The Saiva Temple.
The chief temple evinces the same skill and taste as the structures of Barolli, and the embellishments are similar. We here recognize the groups of Mahadeva and Parbati, with the griffins (grasda), the Naginis, half serpent, half female, etc., though not in so finished a style as at Barolli. Whatever be the age of this temple (and we found on the pavement the name of a votary with the date S. 1011, or A.D. 955), it is many centuries more recent than those which surround it, in whose massive simplicity we [717] have a fine specimen of the primitive architecture of the Hindus. Even of these, we can trace varieties. That of which we present a drawing (vide Plate) shows, in its fluted columns, a more ambitious, though not a better taste, than the plainer supporters of the pyramidal roofs, which cover all the ancient temples of Bal-Siva. Five of these small shrines filled up each face of the quadrangle, but with the exception of those on the east side, all are in ruins. The doors of those which possess an enclosed sanctum face inwards towards the larger shrine: and each has a simple low altar, on which are ranged the attendant divinities of Mahadeva. The sculpture of all these is of a much later date than the specimens at Barolli, and of inferior execution, though far superior to anything that the Hindu sculptor of modern days can fabricate. They may possibly be of the date found inscribed (the tenth century), posterior to which no good Hindu sculpture is to be found. As this spot is now utterly deserted, and the tiger and wild boar are the only inhabitants that visit the groves of Gangabheva, I shall be guilty of no sacrilege in removing a few of these specimens of early art.[[3]]
Nature has co-operated with the ruthless Turk in destroying the oldest specimens of the art. Wherever there is a chink or crevice, vegetation fixes itself. Of this we had a fine specimen in a gigantic but now mouldering kur, which had implanted itself in the mandap of the principal temple, and rent it to its foundation. On examining its immense roots, large slabs were actually encased with the wood, the bark of which nearly covers a whole regiment of petty gods. This fact alone attests the longevity of this species of tree, which is said to live a thousand years. The fountain temple has, in a similar way, been levelled by another of these kur-trees, the branches of which had gradually pressed in and overwhelmed it. The Singar-chaori, or nuptial hall, is also nearly unroofed; and although the portico may yet survive for ages, time is rapidly consuming the rest.
I should have said that there are two distinct enclosures, an interior and exterior, and it is the first which is crowded with the noblest trees, everywhere clustered by the Amarvela, ‘the garland of eternity,’ sacred to Mahadeva, which shades the shrine, overhanging it in festoons. This is the giant of the parasitic tribe, its main stem being as thick near the root as my body. I counted sixty joints, each apparently denoting a year’s growth, yet not half-way up the tree on which it climbed. That [718] highly-scented shrub, the ketaki,[[4]] grew in great profusion near the kund, and a bevy of monkeys were gambolling about them, the sole inhabitants of the grove. The more remote enclosure contained many altars, sacred to the manes of the faithful wives who became Satis for the salvation of their lords. On some of these altars were three and four putlis, or images, denoting the number of devotees. It would require a month’s halt and a company of pioneers to turn over these ruins, and then we might not be rewarded for our pains. We have therefore set to work to clear a path, that we may emerge from these wilds.
SMALLER GROUP OF TEMPLES AT GANGA BHEVA.
To face page 1768.
Nauli, December 5; twelve miles.—The road runs through one continued forest, which would have been utterly impassable but for the hatchet. Half-way is the boundary between Bhainsror and Bhanpura, also an ancient appanage of Mewar, but now belonging to Holkar. Nauli is a comfortable village, having the remains of a fort to the westward.
In the evening I went to visit Takaji-ka-kund, or ‘fountain of the snake-king.’ It is about two miles east of Nauli; the road, through a jungle, over the flat highland or Patar, presents no indication of the object of research, until you suddenly find yourself on the brink of a precipice nearly two hundred feet in depth, crowded with noble trees, on which the knotted kur was again conspicuous. The descent to this glen was over masses of rock; and about half-way down, on a small platform, are two shrines; one containing the statue of Takshak, the snake-king; the other of Dhanvantari, the physician, who was produced at the “churning of the ocean.” The kund, or fountain, at the southern extremity of the abyss, is about two hundred yards in circumference, and termed athah, or ‘unfathomable,’ according to my guide, and if we may judge from its dark sea-green lustre, it must be of considerable depth. It is filled by a cascade of full one hundred feet perpendicular height, under which is a stone seat, sacred to the genius of the spot. At the west side issues a rivulet, called the Takhaili, or serpentine, which, after pursuing a winding course for many miles, some hundred feet below the surface of the Patar, washes the eastern face of Hinglajgarh, and ultimately joins the Amjar. Ghasi, my native artist, is busy with the effigy of the snake-king, and Dhanvantari, the Vaidya. From the summit of the plateau we had a view of the castle of Hinglaj, celebrated in Lord Lake’s war with the Mahrattas, and which was taken by Captain Hutchinson with a few men of the Bengal artillery.[[5]]
Bhānpura, December 6, eight miles.—This was a delightful march, presenting [719] pictures at every step. Two miles, through jungle, brought us to the abrupt crest of the Patar. For some distance the route was over a neck or chine, with deep perpendicular dells on each side, which, at its extremity, the point of descent, termed the ghat or pass, became a valley, gradually expanding until we reached Bhanpura. At the ghat are the remains of a very ancient fortress, named Indorgarh, which must have been one of the strongholds of this region long anterior to the Chandrawat feudatories of Mewar. Some fragments of sculpture indicate the presence of the artist of Barolli; but all search for inscriptions was fruitless. From hence we saw the well-defined skirts of the plateau stretching westward by Rampura to the Lasaughat, Tarapur, and Jawad, the point of our ascent last year.
It was pleasing, after a week’s incarceration amidst these ruins and scenes of natural grandeur, where European foot had never trod, to see verdant fields and inhabitants of the plains; such alternations make each delightful in its turn. We had been satiated with the interminable flats and unvarying cornfields of Haraoti, and it was a relief to quit that tame tranquillity for the whirlpools of the Chambal, the kunds of Ganga, and the snake-king in the regions of the inaccessible Durga.