The Buddhist Art of Gandhara: The Story of the Early School, its Birth, Growth and Decline c13: Chapter 7. Adolescence (continued)

The Buddhist Art of Gandhāra: The Story of the Early School, its Birth, Growth and Decline c13

Language: English

c13.s1 (a) The Sanghao-Nathu Group — 13 parts
c13.s2 (b) The Sikri Group — 16 parts

Chapter 7. Adolescence (continued)

(a) The Sanghao-Nathu Group

The sculptures of the Mardān group described in the preceding chapter represent the main stream of Gandhāra art during its adolescence. Besides these there are other contemporary groups which, though of a more provincial character, nevertheless contributed materially to the development of that art. One such group was centred in the hilly country around Sanghao, Nathu, and Miyān Khān on the north-west border of Buner. Another is known to us chiefly from the reliefs of the well-known stūpa at Sikri some ten miles north of Shāhbāz-Garhī; others from miscellaneous sculptures whose provenance is often uncertain. These various groups came into being in different places and at different times, and each had its own traditions, its own style, its own technique. We must be careful, therefore, how we make use of particular features, whether stylistic, technical or iconographic, as criteria of date, since it is manifest that such features could seldom have made their appearance simultaneously in different groups.

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Of the minor groups named above, the Sanghao-Nathu group is represented by a variety of sculptures, some belonging to the adolescent stage, others to the periods of maturity or decline. Of the adolescent ones I have chosen four typical examples for illustration (figs. 69-72). The stone of which they are made is said to be greyish-white micaceous schist, but my information on this point needs verification. Each of the four slabs seems to have come from a different structure, though there is a close affinity in style and workmanship between figs. 69 and 70 on the one hand and figs. 71 and 72 on the other.

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Fig. 69, which is in the Bombay Museum, depicts the submission of the Nāga Apalāla. Though the workmanship is rough, the story is told simply and effectively—more effectively, I think, than in some of the later and more sophisticated versions. To the left, in the foreground, are the Nāga-rāja and his wife, emerging from the waters of a tank. Above them, among the rocks, is a dwarf-like yaksha, smiting the mountain with a vajra and making the earth tremble. On the right is the figure of the Buddha in a protective pose, and behind him the Vajrapāṇi, here clad in a monk’s robe like the Master himself, while above him, in the background, appear the head and shoulders of another monk. On the forehead of the Vajrapāṇi is a curious mark, which appears to be a third eye, suggesting an Indian origin. This Vajrapāṇi beside the Buddha is quite distinct from the yaksha engaged in smiting the mountain side. The fact that the latter has a vajra in his hand does not make a Vajrapāṇi of him. Primarily the vajra or thunderbolt was an attribute of Indra, as, from time immemorial, it had been of the Greek Zeus. But, as the weapon par excellence of irresistible force, it was put into the hands of other deities or superhuman beings, of Athene and Poseidon, for example, among the Greeks; of the Vajrapāṇi and of this earth-shaking yaksha among the Buddhists.

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A feature of the Sanghao-Nathu reliefs is the obvious difficulty which the artists experienced over the modelling of the eyes. The common practice, well illustrated in figs. 69 and 70, was to make the eye-balls unnaturally large and protruding, like those of people afflicted with exophthalmic goitre. But in some cases, as in the Buddha of fig. 71, the sculptor hardly attempted to carve the eye-balls at all. Doubtless this very amateurish use of the chisel was due to the same lack of technical experience as the wide-open staring eyes which characterized the Graeco-Śaka sculptures of an earlier date, but the resulting treatment of the eyes differed in the two cases and there is no reason to assume any direct connexion between them.

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Another notable feature of these reliefs, well exemplified in fig. 69, is the treatment of the drapery. Admittedly the workmanship is rough and perfunctory, and the standard is incomparably below that of the Partho-Hellenistic work of an older generation, but the artist does not content himself, except very rarely, with merely indicating the folds by a series of incised lines such as we have observed in some of the other groups. He models them boldly and not ungracefully, in such a way as to bring out their substance and depth or, in technical phraseology, their tri-dimensional effect.

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Fig. 70, representing the Worship of the Three Jewels, or, possibly, the First Sermon, is a very dull and uninspired composition compared with fig. 59. The design of the triratna and the grouping of the adoring monks exhibit none of the imagination or inventive effort visible in the Loriyān Tangai fragment. Indeed, the only feature in which this relief shows to advantage is the treatment of the monks’ robes, which, though rough and summary, shows a more realistic and correct sense for plastic form.

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Fig. 71 depicts Gautama with two Brāhman ascetics. The subject recalls fig. 66, but in this panel, in spite of obvious shortcomings, the scene is altogether more developed and expressive. Here the aged Brāhman, a spare, emaciated figure, is sitting at the side of a hut, which faces front instead of the usual sideways, and inside of which his companion is seated in deep thought, in an attitude which reminds us of Rodin’s ‘Le penseur’. Though the execution is rough and sketchy, I regard this figure as exceptionally telling. The other figures, on the right of the panel, are less successful. Gautama himself is facing front, without any apparent concern in the Brāhman by his side; and his attendant Vajrapāṇi, who here takes the form of a Brahmacārin, is hardly less detached. Apart from the general character of this relief there are a few minor details worth noting. One is the unusually youthful appearance of the Buddha, which would be wholly appropriate to him at the time when this particular episode took place. And, indeed, it is possible that the artist had this fact in mind. On the other hand, it is noteworthy that the Buddha is just as youthful on his death-bed in fig. 72, and it looks therefore as if this may have been a stock type of the Buddha in the particular atelier from which this relief emanated.

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Another point worth noting is that, in contrast with the Buddha of fig. 69, the Buddha here is devoid of his usual halo. It is the same in the Nirvāṇa scene of fig. 72, but in the latter the omission might conceivably be due to the awkwardness of a halo when the head is resting on a pillow. Here, no such explanation is possible and we can only infer that the artist responsible for these reliefs did not regard the halo as indispensable.

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Yet another small point is that the deva, if deva he is, at the right-hand top corner is provided with an uṣṇīṣa (or with a top-knot exactly resembling an uṣṇīṣa) on the crown of his head. I mention this detail only because a theory, quite unsubstantiated, has been advanced that figures with the uṣṇīṣa must be either the Buddha himself or a sort of spiritual double of the Buddha, which this adoring figure clearly is not.

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Finally, it should be observed that the Corinthian pilaster on the right of this panel has a flat shaft instead of the rounded one more familiar at this time, and that the face of the shaft is relieved with the roughly drawn figure of a monk. From remains unearthed in the city of Sirkap at Taxila we know that as far back as the reign of Azes II, that is, the beginning of the Christian era, the same stūpas were adorned with both types of Corinthian pilasters—the rounded and the flat, and there was no reason why one more than another of these types should subsequently have been preferred by the sculptors of Gandhāra. It is a fact, however, and a rather surprising one, that the rounded type is commonly found in the earlier reliefs, the flat one in the later. I say surprising, because a rounded shaft is so much more difficult to carve than a flat one. In the case of the Sanghao-Nathu group, however, the flat type seems to have been preferred from the outset, or at least as far back as we can trace the history of this group. Possibly it was to the influence of this group that the flat type subsequently owed its widespread popularity.

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The death of the Buddha (fig. 72) was one of the earliest and most familiar subjects of Gandhāra art. One version of it we have already discussed (fig. 68); others we shall discuss in later chapters (figs. 87, 127-9). In all of them the essential elements were well established by tradition and unalterable, namely, the Buddha stretched at full length on his couch, the Vajrapāṇi, the sorrowing monks, the devas, the śāla trees in the background, and frequently but not invariably the Malla chiefs. But in the treatment of the individual figures and their grouping there was plenty of scope for the imagination and skill of the artist. Thus, if we compare this relief from the Lower monastery at Nathu with fig. 68, we observe several significant differences. Here, the form of the Buddha is somewhat more rigid, though not so rigid and statuesque as in later versions; the Vajrapāṇi here is standing at the further side of the couch instead of at its head, with three devas (?) on his right, three monks on his left, while Ananda, who has collapsed in front of the couch, is being helped to his feet by a brother bhikshu at the head of the couch. In this relief, too, the Malla chiefs are omitted; and so, also, are the dryads of the śāla trees. Of the three figures on the right of the Vajrapāṇi, Brahmā is recognizable in the figure with flowing locks at the edge of the panel, and the one next to him is presumably Indra though there is nothing special by which to identify him. But what of the charming young figure between the latter and the Vajrapāṇi? His strange head-covering looks in the photo like a canopy of snake hoods, but I must leave it to someone else to examine the original and decide whether he is a Nāga-rāja or not. For other figures in this relief, the reader may consult Foucher, *A.G.-B.G.*, vol. 1, p. 565 and fig. 281.

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From what has been said above it will be apparent that there is something strangely anomalous about the art of this Sanghao-Nathu School. On the one hand, the workmanship, that is, the actual carving of the stone, is for the most part coarse and unskilful—so much so that one might conclude from it that the School had but recently come into being when these sculptures were executed. On the other hand, the technique of the relief-work, the modelling of individual figures and the handling of the group compositions—all demonstrate a stage of development far removed from the primitive. And the orthodox way in which the sacred legends are set forth also goes to show that the School already had well-established traditions behind it. Although, therefore, these sculptures happen to be the earliest examples of this group known to us, it is clear that they must have been preceded by many still earlier efforts going back to the early part of the first century A.D.

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All things considered, I incline to assign these panels to the latter part of the Adolescent Period, i.e. to the last quarter of the first century A.D. In the next chapter we shall encounter some further examples of the Sanghao-Nathu School, which illustrate its art in a more mature form (figs. 87-89 and 91).

(b) The Sikri Group

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Most of the sculptures belonging to this group come from the small site of Sikri, and chiefly from a single stūpa whose remains are now in the Lahore Museum. It seems likely, therefore, that they may have been the work of an atelier situated somewhere in the neighbourhood of Shāhbāz-Garhī. Though of relatively little artistic merit, the sculptures furnish valuable data both for the history of Gandhāra art and for Buddhist iconography. Their style, generally, is prosaic, the figures formal and stilted, the composition uninspired. But the quality of the carvings is not uniform. In some panels the figures are not without a measure of grace and comeliness; in others they are ungainly and even ugly. In some, the folds of the draperies are modelled with a correct appreciation of form and substance; in others they are sketchily indicated by incised lines. These and other differences of design and workmanship were manifestly due to the varying abilities of the sculptors engaged on the decoration of this monument, and must not be taken as evidence of any differences in the age of the reliefs.

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Various features of the Sikri carvings combine to show that they cannot be far removed in date from those already described in this and the preceding chapter. Prominent among such features are the Corinthian pilasters with rounded shafts set in countersunk panels, the ungainly-looking figures of the Buddha with their outsize and frequently rimmed haloes, and the presence of *śāla* trees in scenes with which they have no legendary connexion. Taken together these features are a significant index to the approximate age of the carvings and justify their inclusion in the Adolescent Period. On the other hand, there are other and no less significant features which point to a somewhat later date than that to which we have assigned the Mardān and Sanghao-Nathu groups. Thus, the youthful Vajrapāṇi of figs. 75 and 76 is a type that we have so far not met with but with which we shall become familiar in the period of Maturity. Similarly, the heavy canopy of pipal leaves over the head of the Buddha in fig. 77 is an outstanding characteristic of certain reliefs of this class dating from the early years of the Mature period. And the neat, trim figures of the *devas*, with their carefully tailored costumes and schematic grouping, point to the deepening influence of Early Indian art and the development of the Mature style in Gandhāra which resulted from it. Taking everything into consideration, I think that we shall not be far wrong if we place the Sikri carvings near the end of the first century A.D., where they mark at once the close of the Adolescent Period of Gandhāra art and the advent of its maturity.

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The panels which adorn the circular base of the Sikri Stūpa are thirteen in number, and carved from the same stone as the rest of its facing—a dark grey, almost black, carbonaceous schist. Of the five selected for illustration, fig. 73 depicts the Dīpaṅkara Jātaka. It is the first version of this familiar story that we have encountered, but we shall encounter others later. Here we see the Dīpaṅkara Buddha as much the same ungainly figure as the Gautama Buddha was in the Mardān and Sanghao-Nathu reliefs, with the same robes, the same *uṣṇīṣa*, and the same expansive halo. The only difference is that in the intervening years his stature has grown a little taller in proportion to the people around him, and his *uṣṇīṣa* a little smaller. We also observe that, in this relief, he is attended, not by the usual Vajrapāṇi, but by a *bhikshu*. In later versions of this scene, however, he has his own Vajrapāṇi. In front of the Dīpaṅkara the young Sumati (or Sumedha) is repeated four times: first bargaining with the flower-seller in the gateway of the city, then throwing his lotus flowers in the air, then prostrating himself at the feet of the Master, and lastly suspended like the lotus flowers in the air. Two minor points in this carving that are worth noting are the small cut made in the arris of the base for the foot of Sumati (a very unusual device), and the heavy wreath worn by the flower-seller—a survival from the Graeco-Parthian period.

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Fig. 74 portrays the Bodhisattva in the Tushita heaven, deliberating on his impending earthly birth, a suggestion of which is provided by his lotus throne. His attire is similar to that of the trim-looking gods beside him. The celestial beings above the heads of the Tushita gods are distinguished by a simpler dress, *uṣṇīṣa* and halo. In other panels of this stūpa some of the *devas* wear jewelled head-dresses and ornaments, but in every case they are provided with a halo. In reliefs of the Early Indian School such celestial beings usually appear floating like birds in the air, and it is thus that they are occasionally depicted by the sculptors of Gandhāra. But the more usual practice in Gandhāra is to portray them at full length in a standing posture, with their lower limbs hidden behind the heads and shoulders of the figures below them, thus avoiding the incongruous appearance of one row of figures standing on the heads of another. At Sikri, most of the reliefs, including the one we are discussing, are marred by this patent defect, but fig. 76 is a notable exception to the general rule.

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In fig. 75 the Buddha is listening to the prophecy of the Nāga king Kālika and his queen. The composition is formal and unimaginative but the workmanship is conscientious and refined, and the figures of the two Nāgas and of the *devas* above, who appear actually to be moving in flight through the air, are not lacking in grace and charm. Observe the conventional *śāla* trees in the background and the youthful *brahmacārin*-type of Vajrapāṇi—a type destined to become familiar in later sculpture.

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Compared with the preceding panel fig. 76 makes but a poor showing. It portrays the Bodhisattva in the act of receiving from the grass-cutter, Svastika, a bundle of grass wherewith to strew his seat beneath the bodhi tree. In point of composition the group is much the same as its neighbours; the Vajrapāṇi behind the Buddha is of a similar type to the one in fig. 75, and the celestial *devas* also resemble those in other panels though, as already noted, they are disposed more convincingly. But the workmanship here is decidedly inferior, particularly in the handling of the draperies. Whereas in figs. 74 and 75, for example, the form and substance of the drapery folds are modelled realistically in the stone, here the modelling has been scamped, and the folds, for the most part, merely sketched in with the point of the chisel. Notice, too, the faulty drawing of the Bodhisattva’s right hand and the perfunctory, wig-like treatment of the *deva*’s hair in the right-hand top corner, which calls to mind the decadent carving in some of the later Graeco-Śaka toilet-trays. In fairness to the sculptor of this relief, however, it should be added that the photograph of it reproduced in fig. 76 makes the workmanship appear worse than it really is.

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The episode illustrated in fig. 77 is the presentation to the Buddha, immediately after his Enlightenment, of the four begging-bowls by the Regents of the Four Quarters. As set out by the artist, the scene is a very conventional and schematic one, but the workmanship is careful and competent. I have included this panel among my illustrations of the Sikri Stūpa chiefly because the figure of the seated Buddha beneath its heavy canopy of pipal leaves affords a specific link with a number of sculptures of this class which date from the beginning of the mature period of Gandhāra art (cf. figs. 100, 101), and thus corroborate the conclusion as to its date arrived at on stylistic and other grounds.

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(c) MISCELLANEOUS SCULPTURES OF THE ADOLESCENT PERIOD To complete our survey of Gandhāra sculpture in its Adolescent stage, I append some miscellaneous pieces which admirably illustrate the way in which, from about the middle of the first century onwards, the newly revived Hellenistic art became blended with the Indian. So far as my information goes all the sculptures in this miscellaneous group are made either of grey micaceous schist or of chloritic micaceous schist. The first of them (fig. 78) used to be in the possession of the Church Missionary Society at Peshāwar, but has now, I understand, been donated to the Peshāwar Museum. It is made of grey micaceous schist and appears to be the lowest block of a jamb belonging to a false niche. The grape-vine scrolls and the bead-and-reel and imbricated leaf-moulding are purely Greek patterns, but there are two features which have clearly been inspired by Buddhist work of the Early Indian School. One is the palmette-like lotus plant at the base of the outer vine-scroll on the left. This is the abbreviated form of the Lotus Tree of Life and Fortune, frequently seen on monuments of the Early Indian School, like the gateways of the Great Stūpa at Sāñchī. The other is the male figure at the base of the larger vine-scroll, who despite his Greek tunic is obviously meant for a yaksha of the same class as those portrayed on the gateways at Sāñchī with gift-bearing lotuses either held in their hands or issuing from their mouths or navels.

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In fig. 79, which comes from the Dharmarājikā Stūpa at Taxila, Indian influence is more pronounced. This, also, is a fragmentary jamb, and made of chloritized micaceous schist. As in the preceding example, the elaborate mouldings enriching the surface and the Corinthian pilasters and cornices framing the panels are indisputably Greek, but the vertical line of superposed panels is a familiar motif of Early Indian art (cf. figs. 9 above and 149 below) which has persisted down to the present day. And the pairs of figures in each of the panels are also characteristically Indian and attired in Indian costumes (cf. Taxila, vol. II, p. 704, no. 23).

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The same blending of Greek and Indian features is to be seen in the highly ornate fragment of a frieze reproduced in fig. 80. This, too, comes from the Dharmarājikā Stūpa and, like the foregoing, is made of chloritized micaceous schist. In the upper section is a richly carved vine-scroll of a typically Greek pattern and of great beauty.¹ Below, is an arcade of three pointed arches resting on dwarf Corinthian pilasters. The busts in Indian attire beneath the arches evidently represent gods looking out from the balcony of heaven, as in other Gandhāra reliefs, the figure with long hair under the central arch being Brahmā, and the one on the left Indra, who is wearing the same head-dress as in fig. 84. In the triangular spaces above the haunches of the arches are birds facing front with outspread wings—a common motif in Gandhāra art.

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¹ For somewhat similar scroll-work in Apulia, almost certainly inspired by Greek originals, see A. W. Lawrence, Later Greek Sculpture, pl. 90b.

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The next piece, fig. 81, is another fragment of a frieze, enriched with pure Greek ornament. Although it shows no trace of Indianization I have included it here, because it comes from the same find-spot and is made of the same chloritic micaceous schist as the last two specimens, and because the ornament is of a peculiarly distinctive pattern. On the face of the frieze are two intertwined vine-stems forming a nodus herculeus, with four-petalled flowers in the spaces between; and above this, at the dividing line between frieze and cornice, is a band of the tongue-and-dart pattern surmounted by a narrower bead-and-reel moulding.

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The above reliefs may be judged to belong to the early part of the Adolescent Period, that is, to about the middle or third quarter of the first century A.D. In the two following pieces (figs. 82, 83), the process of Indianization has gone substantially further. The two are companion pieces from a monument at Kāfir-kot, and are in precisely the same style, and made of the same grey micaceous schist. In fig. 82, a Nāga-rāja is seen seated on his throne beneath his canopy of multiple snake heads, with nāgī musicians and attendants to right and left, each distinguished by the single hood behind her head. The hoods are not very convincing but a comparison with other sculptures of the same kind leaves no doubt as to what they were intended to represent. The other piece (fig. 83) is a drinking scene of the favourite type, with the Nāga-rāja and his queen seated in the centre, holding wine-cups in their hands, while attendant nāgīs on either side are bringing other vessels to supply their needs. Nāgas and nāgīs are, of course, essentially Indian concepts, but both of these scenes are clearly inspired by the drinking and musical scenes of Graeco-Parthian art (e.g. figs. 40, 41, 49, 50, 51 supra). Observe that in both reliefs the attendants are wearing Graeco-Parthian wreaths on their heads, and that one of them (next to the Nāga-rāja in fig. 83) is holding up a characteristic Parthian goblet in her fingers in the same peculiar way as one of the male drinkers (third from right) in fig. 40, while another has a drinking horn in her hand. Observe also in fig. 83 the Greek-looking krater on the ground, and the man next to it wearing a short Greek chiton and carrying a familiar wine-skin over his shoulder. All these features are clearly inspired by Graeco-Parthian prototypes; but on the other hand the dress of both nāgas and nāgīs is Indian rather than Greek, and the anklets worn by the women are typically Indian. Note that the musical instruments are partly Greek, partly Indian.

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In the relief which follows (fig. 84) we see once more the essentially Buddhist character of this art beginning to prevail. The slab portrays the Bodhisattva as a starving and emaciated ascetic before he found true enlightenment. He is seated, yogi-fashion, on a grass-covered throne. The halo behind his head is large and rimmed, like the haloes of the early Buddhas in the Mardān group (e.g. figs. 61, 63, 66), but so far as the mutilation permits one to judge, his *uṣṇīṣa* appears to be smaller than in those examples. On his left is Brahmā and, behind Brahmā, Indra—recognizable by his distinctive head-dress (cf. fig. 80). Observe his charming, almost girlish, face and the offering of ambrosia which he bears in his hand for the starving Bodhisattva. The lady on the right of the Bodhisattva is no doubt Sujātā, as Foucher rightly divined, with an offering of more human food in her hands. Like Brahmā opposite to her, she is dressed in Greek *chiton* and *himation*, the *chiton* in her case reaching, as usual, to the feet. Behind Sujātā is the Vajrapāṇi in the guise of a Silenus (?), bearded and wreathed with the grape-vine. The workmanship in this relief is a little perfunctory, particularly in respect of the hands and the folds of the drapery. On the other hand, much care and feeling have been expended on the delineation of the faces, and the group as a whole is very attractive—the finest, I think, as it is also the earliest, version of this episode that has come down to us.

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I close this chapter on the Adolescent Period with two standing images of the Buddha in the round—the earliest of their kind that the Gandhāra School has bequeathed to us (figs. 85, 86). In the sandstone image, fig. 28, we saw what is probably the earliest of all the known effigies of the Great Teacher, and, in the stucco figures 38 and 39, the earliest known heads of the Bodhisattva. But these were found east of the Indus at Taxila, not west of the river in Gandhāra, and although they throw significant light on the rise of the Gandhāra School, they are not actually products of that School. In Gandhāra itself the oldest representation we possess of the Buddha is the one appearing in fig. 53, where he is distinguished from his companions by nothing more than his halo. That relief, which is essentially Hellenistic in style, dates, as we have seen, from about the middle of the first century A.D. or a little later, i.e. from about the same period as the stucco images of the Bodhisattva referred to above. Approximately contemporary with it, are the figures of the infant Bodhisattva to be seen in figs. 55, 57, 58. Then, a decade or so later, comes the Mardān group of reliefs, which show us how the Buddha and Bodhisattva types were beginning to take shape in the hands of local Buddhist sculptors. It is from the Buddha type as illustrated in those early reliefs that the two statues reproduced in figs. 85 and 86 derive their parentage. The relationship is, indeed, unmistakable. In the statues, as in the reliefs, the Buddha is portrayed wearing a moustache, with eyes wide-open and unduly large *uṣṇīṣa*. In both, too, his monastic robe is draped in the same way, with its edge falling from wrist or hand in a stiff, straight, or almost straight, line. On the other hand, there are some marked differences. In the reliefs, the halo is of moderate size, while the *uṣṇīṣa* is so large as to appear top-heavy. In the statues, the halo is disproportionately large, but the *uṣṇīṣa* is substantially flatter. In the reliefs, again, the drapery folds are roughly modelled and coarsely chiselled; in the statues, the carving is done with great care and precision and with a fine sense for the form beneath the robes. For these differences which are, no doubt, due to improving technique and changing taste, I do not think that more than a couple of decades need be postulated. The Mardān reliefs I ascribe to the beginning of the Adolescent Period, the two statues to a date prior to the Sikri reliefs, which I place at the very end of this period.

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These two statues (figs. 85, 86) are so alike that we may well believe that they came from the same atelier, if not from the hand of the same artist. Both the better preserved one (fig. 85) and the other statue (fig. 86), which has lost its halo, part of its *uṣṇīṣa* and its hands and feet, are in the Lahore Museum.