Drawn by W. Daniel A.. Entrance to the Cave of. Eepharbor. Published by The Tegg 73.Cheapside. Jan 1.1844 413 ENTRANCE TO THE CAVE OF ELEPHANTA. Here lingering drops from mineral roofs distil, And latent metals innocently glow. WITH the exception of the ancient Druids, the majority of self-constituted priests amongst the unchristianised portion of the world, appear desirous of attaching mystery to their religions, and of celebrating their orgies either in a lightless temple above ground, or a dark cavern beneath it. The employment of caves as sepulchres in olden time, may have contributed in some degree to this superstitious sentiment; but certainly its prevalence has been very widely extended over the world, and observed for an unusually lengthened period of time. Even in our Western primitive churches of any magnitude, a feeling favourable to the jealous admission of light is observable; and the narrow lancet windows of the early Gothic, and the few and deep-sunk Norman arches, were tributary to that solemnity which accompanies a partial intromission of mid-day rays. The first chapels in the British Islands were probably stone-roofed, and lighted only by a few loop-holes. The famous Sistine Chapel of the Vatican is without windows. The most interesting Roman Catholic shrine in Europe, that of St. Rosalia, at Palermo, is in a cavern of Mount Pelegrino. Tombs and whole cities were excavated in the rocks of Upper Egypt: and, whether from an irremovable prejudice for early institutions, or an idea that it is more impressive, in the Roman Catholic church much seems sacrificed to sensible effect; the service, on great festivals of the church, is performed by the red rays of torch-light, when the long shadows of the clustered columns that are cast from the choir, throw half the vast area of the sacred building into utter darkness. In oriental countries there are numerous instances of windowless temples and religious caves; the Bhuddists in China have a celebrated sanctuary, in the natural cavern of a lofty rock that impends over the Yang-tse-keang; and, as they imported their worship from India, it is probable their cavernous predilection accompanied the introduction. There is an islet in the harbour of Bombay, which the native Hindoos call Ghampon, but Europeans Elephanta, about five miles distant from the Mahratta shore. It is nearly five miles in circumference, is generally occupied by about a hundred inhabitants, all miserably poor, and is traversed by a deep rocky ravine, that seems, when viewed from a distance, to cleave the islet into two nearly equal eminences. At a little distance from the landing-place, the figure of an elephant, of colossal dimensions, admirable proportions, and polished black marble, stood for many years; and, very possibly, the Portuguese, who first called the island by the name it now retains from this monstrous effigy, committed those mutilations which rendered its quality undistinguishable by their followers. The violence of iconoclasts is evidenced by the quantity of fractured sculptures in our own native isle; and the inconsistency of the Portuguese at that period-they who retain images, pictures, and relics in their churches-is perfectly well authenticated. A great block of stone, overgrown with brushwood, is all that now remains of the once great emblem of national power, which adorned the precincts of this Isle of Temples. From the corner where the stone monument stood, the ascent to the temples in the rock is steep and fatiguing. They are situated in the front of one of the cliffs that enclose the deep dividing ravine, already mentioned, and the face-entrance commands a pleasing view down its vista towards the sea. The lower cave is within a porch, or colonnade, an oratory perhaps, consisting of but one cell, and that a shallow one, the roof of which is sustained by two massive pillars. Still higher up the steep and rugged ascent is the entrance of the principal temple, nearly a mile distant from the level of the defile at the foot of the mountain. The approach is by a narrow pathway enclosed by shrubwood and trees, and the low colonnade at the termination of the vista looks rather agreeable, cheerful, and comfortable, than displaying those grand features the report of whose ancient glories attracts travellers to this Holy Isle. This disappointment, however, is soon remedied: on a nearer approach four rows of columns, low but immensely massive, forming a truly Samsonian structure, present themselves. The overtopping rock is broken, rugged and crumbling, so that apprehension of descending ruin at once suggests itself to the spectator. On looking down the three grand intercolumnar avenues, the view is most imposing and effective. An area, two hundred and twenty feet in length, with a breadth of one hundred and fifty, and fifteen feet in height, is divided by four rows of ponderous columns into three great aisles. These heavy, massive, unyielding fulcra are of the finest proportions; and while the mind is occupied in surveying their herculean diameter, the eye is unconsciously carried up to their beautiful capitals. There the perfection of art is accomplished by its close resemblance to nature, for each capital appears like a torus or pillow, or cushion of mollient material, that had yielded beneath the pressure of the superincumbent mountain, and was almost flattened in its passive obedience to irresistible power. The chamber itself has been excavated from the solid rock, the pillars being left as supports to the roof, in the way that miners practise in their vast subterranean galleries. An ambulatory is formed between the columns and the mural pilasters, the walls of which are carved all over with figures, designs, and emblems, in alto relievo, borrowed from the Hindoo mythology. At the innermost extremity of the central aisle, in a deep and lofty niche, higher than the other parts of the temple, is a colossal bust with three heads, the form of each being five feet in length, and the whole composition about eighteen. The most obvious explanation of this monstrosity is, that it is a palpable representation of the Hindoo triad, -Brama, Vishnu, and Siva,-but the hypercritical antiquaries, who occasionally visit these shadowy halls, have imagined that these three mystic faces meant something more. This is but affectation of superior discernment; for a triad (obviously stolen from the Holy Scriptures, and surreptitiously imported into all the Eastern and other countries) was a systematic theory amongst the founders of religions in ages past. In China we find Confucius, Fo, and Laou Tze, in Hindoo, Brama, Vishnu, and Siva.- In the colder climate of the old Hyperborean plains we find Odin, Woden, and Thor. It would be too great an instance perhaps of the bathos in ancient lore, to quote Cerberus, the keeper of the nether world, whom he of Elephanta most especially resembles. Six-and-twenty noble pillars sustain the roof, and sixteen grand pilasters adorn the enclosing wall. The mural hieroglyphics refer to the national mythology. "This temple," writes Mr. Moore, 66 may be called a complete pantheon,-for, among the hundreds, I may say thousands, of figures there sculptured, every principal Hindoo deity is found. Many deified heroes in the more modern mythological romances, contained in some of the Puranes and Tantras, will have been exalted since the excavation of this wonderful cavern: but I strongly believe that all the gods of the Vedas, or, if I may so term them, all the legitimate Hindoo deities, will be found in its different compartments, if not, indeed, too much defaced for recognition." One specimen of the art of sculpture reflects much credit on the artists of this, not pantheon, but pandemonium; it is a colossal figure of the Siva Vindex of India. How characteristic of the propensities and position of this terrible god is the poet's picture," Arise, black Vengeance! from thy hollow cell." Nothing daunted by his shivering look, the intolerant Portuguese fractured and mutilated the limbs of this eminent deity so wantonly, that scarcely enough remains to prove the justice which the sculptor did to his godship. The countenance, still distinct, is expressive of hauteur, and indicates a heart swelling with tyrannous hate," and a voice about to speak with "aspics' tongues." That he might be the better enabled to execute his vindictive desires, the artist appropriately furnished him with eight powerful arms; but, as these emblems of omnipotence were made, so were they also broken by human hands, and now only illustrate imbecility. Deities less dignified decorate other parts, and fill other recesses of these sculptured walls, but never of such exquisite workmanship, or so attractive as this God of Vengeance. 66 If authority were wanting to establish the reputation of this subterranean temple for beauty and curiosity of workmanship, we might summon the virtuous Heber to our court. "The dimensions, proportions, and sculpture, of the cave of Elephanta," writes this learned and amiable prelate, "seemed to me to be of a more noble character, a more elegant execution, than I had been led to suppose. Even the statues are executed with great spirit, and some of them are of no common beauty, considering their dilapidated condition and the coarseness of the material.” Had the reverend author paused at the close of this burst of admiration, and been content with the local legends, instead of framing an hypothesis to account for the origin of the temple, his fame as an antiquary would not have been deteriorated, and his imperfect acquaintance with Hindoo worship left less exposed to observation. Had he visited these interesting caves at a later period of his life, when he was more familiar with Indian idolatry, he would not have hazarded the following conjecture:-"The rock, out of which the temple is carved, is by no means calculated to resist, for any length of time, the ravages of the weather. It evidently suffers much from the annual rains ; a great number of the pillars, nearly one-third of the whole, have been undermined by the accumulation of water in the cavern; and the capitals of some, and parts of the shafts of others, remain suspended from the roof like huge stalactites, the bases having completely mouldered away. The ravages are said to have greatly increased in the memory of persons now resident in Bombay, though, for many years back, the cave has been protected from wanton dilapidation, and though the sculptures, rather than the pillars, would probably have suffered from the vulgar love of knickknacks and specimens, which prevails among the English, more than most nations of the world. On the whole, in the entire absence of any inscription or tradition which might guide us, we may assign to Elephanta any date we please. It may be as old as the Parthenon, or it may be as modern as Henry VIIth's Chapel; but, though the truth, probably, lies between the two, I am certainly not disposed to assign to it any great degree of antiquity." Had the Bishop's conclusion been less dogmatical, it would have accorded better with the mildness of his nature-had it been accompanied by more cogent reasons, it would have been more consonant to his character as a sound philosopher; but in both respects it is deficient. The rock is not of a mouldering nature, but has resisted the abrading power of time from time immemorial; the apparent decay of the pillars has not arisen from the distillation of water, but from actual manual violence, chargeable upon the Portuguese invaders and English visitors. The former, in their zeal for their own religion-which, if they understood, would not teach them cruelty and illiberality-lighted fires in the cave to heat the pillars, and when they conceived them to be most susceptible of injury from the infliction, threw cold water upon them. It is from the effects of this blistering, that the pillars have suffered so much, and that laminæ of stone even still constantly flake off, and fall into the little pools of water at their feet. Time has not caused the decadence of these columns, because his effects would have been equally unsparing on all; and many of them, exposed to the same septic atmosphere as their ruined brethren, are just as perfect as when the chisel of the devotee imparted to them their form and symmetry. It is probable that the caves of Elephanta are more than two thousand years old. It is the opinion of the Hindoos-it accords with the antiquity of Hindoo works of art and religion-there is no record to |