wide strands of golden sand; here and there among the rice-fields the palms and bamboos are less crowded. in the moist air, that grows hotter and hotter, the daylight is blinding, hardly tolerable through the blue glass of the windows. scorched, russet rocks stand up from the short grass, tremulous in the noontide heat. the cattle, the very birds, silent and motionless, have sought shelter in the shade; all the people have gone within doors. and then, towards evening, in an oasis of gigantic trees, amid bamboos and feathery reeds, behold the huge temples of madura, in sharp outline against a rosy sky.
the sun had just set, a violet haze was rising and enwrapping every object. fires were being lighted in the villages on the road to the holy place. tom-toms were rattling in the distance,[pg 115] and nearer at hand a vina, gently touched by an invisible player, murmured a tune on three notes.
the temples were already closed, but my servant, abibulla, diverted the attention of the gatekeeper, and i stole unseen into the outer precincts.
within the gateway, carved all over with foliage and rosettes, a footway, paved with bright mosaic, leads to the interior of the temple. all along a corridor, enormous prancing horses, mounted by men-at-arms, support the roof which is deeply carved all over, and at the foot of these giants a sacred tank reflects the sky. in front of us were gaps of black shadow, and far, far away, lamps, shrouded in incense, were twinkling behind the gratings.
figures draped in pale muslins brushed past us, hastening to the door. flower-sellers, in one of the arcades, were hurrying to finish their garlands; and suddenly, close before us—a mass that looked as if it were part of the temple itself—an enormous elephant started into sight, passed on and vanished in the darkness.
in the depths of little recesses the lamps twinkled feebly before images crowned with flowers. at the entrances to shrines little glass lamps, like a mysterious fairy illumination, followed the lines[pg 116] of the arabesques, sparkling like glowworms, without lighting up the passages which remained dark, and in which, in fact, we finally lost ourselves.
near the statues, which are placed in a row close to the wall, other statues, finer, slenderer, and more graceful, stood before the pedestals, anointing the stone with some oil which in time soaks in and blackens it, or else hanging lanterns up over the divinities. these were the temple servants, wearing nothing but the langouti tied round their loins; they either shuffle about barefoot, or remain motionless in rapt ecstasy before the little niches where the idols grin or scowl among branches of roses and amaryllis.
in one brilliantly-lighted hall, priests, dressed in long yellow dalmatics, were adoring idols, elephants, anantas; and from an enormous gold lotus sprang the mandeel, rising through the dome, its tip standing in the outer air to bear the white flag that is hoisted on high festivals. at the entrance to this shrine parrots in cages suddenly set up a hostile outcry as i passed them, and were only pacified by the coming of a priest, who gave them some food. the clatter, however, had attracted other brahmins; one of them desired me to leave, "and[pg 117] at once." i declined to obey, so he sent for the elephant who does duty as police, to turn me out.
and as the priests knew that the beast would need no help they again left me to myself. up came the elephant at a brisk trot, flourishing his trunk and hooting; within two yards of me he stopped and stood still. he accepted a four-anna piece that i offered him, and handed it up for his driver, but finding no one on his back he put the coin back into my pocket, and sniffing all over my coat found a biscuit, ate it, and then quietly went back to his stable.
a muffled sound of instruments, mingling in confusion in the myriad echoes, came dying on my ear, hardly audible. a gleam of light flashed in the corridor and then went out. then some lights seemed to be coming towards me, and again all was gloom. an orchestra of bagpipes, of kemanches and darboukhas sounded close by me, and then was lost in the distance, and the phantasmagoria of lights still went on. at last, at the further end of the arcade where i was standing, two men raised green-flamed torches at the end of long poles, followed by two drummers and musicians playing on bagpipes and viols. children squatting on the ground lighted coloured fire that[pg 118] made a bright blaze, and died out in stifling smoke, shrouding the priests—a cloud hardly tinted by the torches.
a golden mass, an enormous shrine chased all over and starred with tapers, now came forward, borne by a score of naked men. against the gold background, in a perfect glory of diamonds and pearls, sat vishnu, decked out with flowers and jewels, his head bare with a huge brilliant in his forehead.
the music played louder, light flashed out on all sides, the god stood still, and bayadères performed their worship. with slow gestures, their hands first hollowed and held to the brow, then their arms flung out, they bowed before the idol with a snake-like, gliding motion, while the music played very softly and the lights burnt faintly. the nauchnees, in dark muslin drapery spangled with gold, bangles on their arms, their necks, and their ankles, and rings on their toes, swayed as they danced, and swung long, light garlands of flowers which hung about their necks. and there were flowers in their hair, in a bunch on each side of the head, above two gold plates from which hung strings of beads. the flying, impalpable gauze looked like a swirl of mist about their limbs.
[pg 119]
very gradually the measure quickened, the pitch grew shriller, and with faster and freer movements the bayadères were almost leaping in a sort of delirium produced by the increasing noise, and the constantly growing number of lights.
then, in a blaze of coloured fire, a fortissimo of music, and a whirlwind of drapery, they stopped exhausted in front of the idol. the lights were put out, the tom-toms were the only sound, and the procession moved on, escorting the shrine which glittered for some time yet, till it disappeared at an angle, leaving the temple in darkness just tinted blue by the moon.
a different scene indeed next day, with none of the magnificence of yesterday, was the temple of magical lights. there was a dense crowd of shouting and begging pilgrims. along the pyramidal roofs, as at srirangam, there were rows of painted gods, but in softer and more harmonious hues. over the tank for ablutions was a balcony decorated in fresco, representing in very artless imagery the marriage of siva and parvati. the couple are seen holding hands under a tree; he a martial figure, very upright, she looking silly, her lips pursed, an ingénue. in another place siva sits with his[pg 120] wife on his knees, she has still the same school-girl expression. finally, on the ceiling, is their apotheosis: they are enthroned with all the gods of ramayana around them, and she looks just the same. the red and green, subdued by the reflected light from the water, were almost endurable.
immediately on entering we were in the maze of vaults, sanctuaries, great halls and arcades, where stall-keepers sell their goods, priests keep school, and flower-sellers wander. statues, repeated in long rows, lead up to temples all alike, of a bewildering uniformity of architecture and identical decoration.
elephants, freshly painted, go past begging.
making my way among the too numerous gods in relief against the overwrought walls heavy with carving, i came to a wonderful balcony where, in broken cages, i found the parrots that had betrayed me, and among them an exquisite pale yellow cockatoo of great rarity.
one after another i made my salaam to siva, seated on a peacock; to ganesa, looking calm and knowing; to parvati, riding a bull; to siva again, this time pinning a dragon to the ground with a fork, a writhing reptile with gaping jaws and outspread wings; the same god again, with a child in[pg 121] his arms; and again, holding his leg like a musket up against his shoulder with one of his four hands, the other three lifting a bull, a sceptre, and a trophy of weapons above his head.
in a central space was a hideous rajah, a benefactor, with his six wives, all gaudily coloured with jewels in coloured paper stuck on to the images, and all kneeling in attitudes of idiotic ecstasy, doubly absurd under the daubing of vermilion and indigo. these were greatly admired by my servant, a convinced connoisseur in indian art. further on we saw, on the ceiling of a polychrome corridor, monsters carved to fit the shape of squared beams ending in a griffin's or a bird's head.
in a dirty stable, strewn with withered plants, stood some forlorn, sickly-looking beasts, the sacred bulls of madura.
here again the cars of the gods were neglected in the open air, and one of them, older than the rest, was fast being transfigured into a pyramid of shrubs and flowers.
two men were quarrelling; one had robbed the other. the dispute went on endlessly, and no one, not the priest even, had succeeded in pacifying them. at last an elephant was fetched; he came up without being noticed by the disputants, and trumpeted[pg 122] loudly just behind them. the thief, convinced that the animal in its wisdom had discovered his crime, took to his heels and fled.
in the afternoon, while it was still broad daylight and very bright outside, it was already dusk under the arches of the temple, and bats were flitting about.
and under an arcade priests were hanging the shrine with wreaths of pink and yellow flowers, in preparation for its nocturnal progress, while an old woman, all alone, was bathing in the tank, with much splashing and noise of waters.
the old palace of the kings is now yellow-ochre, coated with plaster and lime-wash over the splendid antique marble walls.
the rajah's sleeping-room has at one end a dais ascended by three steps; here the sovereign's bed used to be spread; and here, now, the judges of the supreme court have their seats. in the middle of the room was a confused array of benches and tables, and against the walls, also washed with yellow, hung a series of portraits of bewigged worthies.
from the roof, consisting of terraces between cupolas, there is a view of many temples glorified in the golden sunset, and nearer at hand stand ten[pg 123] imposing columns, very tall—the last remaining vestiges of the rajah's elephant-house.
