The Buddhist Art of Gandhara: The Story of the Early School, its Birth, Growth and Decline c14.2

c14.2

What is meant by ‘maturity’ in art? The question is one on which views may easily differ. They do so in regard to the art of most countries, ancient and modern; and in the case of Gandhāra art the question is complicated by the fact that the two widely differing types of art, the Indian and the Hellenistic, out of the union of which it was evolved, had long since passed their zenith when it came into being. In consequence of this it happens that some of the earliest reliefs carved for the Buddhists in Gandhāra are, from a plastic and technical point of view, also some of the most perfect. Consider, for example, the group of water deities in fig. 47. There is no later sculpture that can boast of finer workmanship than this; and at one time, indeed, it was regarded as the high-water mark of the Gandhāra School. But the truth is that it is not an example of Gandhāra art at all. Notwithstanding that it was produced on the soil of Gandhāra and carved out of a local stone, it was essentially a work of provincial Greek art, and might properly find a place in any history of that art. This and other reliefs like it are admittedly of great value for the light they shed on the beginnings of Gandhāra art, but only on its beginnings. Gandhāra art is, first and foremost, a Buddhist art, and must be judged by its success in fulfilling its purpose as a sacred art, designed to illustrate the history and legends of the Buddhist faith and to glorify the memory of its Founder. It reached its maturity only when it had evolved a distinctive style and character of its own, and when its sculptors had developed their technical skill and powers of imagination sufficiently to give worthy expression to the traditions and ideals of Buddhism. But the dividing line between adolescence and maturity is, at best, a very hazy one, and arguments might easily be found for shifting it further back or further forward than I have done. Take, for instance, figs. 54 and 55, which come from the same monument and doubtless from the same atelier. Both these reliefs fulfil the requirements of mature art. In both, the workmanship is highly refined and, though they manifestly owe much to Hellenistic teaching, they are already steeped in the spirit of Buddhism and able to tell their stories in a simple, dignified language that well becomes a sacred art. But these reliefs are quite exceptional. They are the work of a school of which we have no other contemporary examples. Had I included them in the present chapter, I should logically have felt constrained to include in it a large number of reliefs of a later date which fall far short of the standard of maturity.