The Buddhist Art of Gandhara: The Story of the Early School, its Birth, Growth and Decline c16: Chapter 10. Later Maturity Period: Reliefs

The Buddhist Art of Gandhāra: The Story of the Early School, its Birth, Growth and Decline c16

Language: English

Chapter 10. Later Maturity Period: Reliefs

We have now reached the most fertile and best-known period in the history of Gandhāra art—the period covered by the three generations between A.D. 140 or thereabouts, and the break-up of the Kushān Empire. It was the period that produced the bulk of the sculptures usually found in public and private collections, and we shall see how the vastly increased output was accompanied by a creeping deterioration of style; how originality and inventiveness rapidly gave place to conventionalism, and artistry to craftsmanship. But we shall see, also, that the new craftsmanship retained a perfection undreamt of by earlier sculptors; we shall note many attractive, albeit oft-recurring, motifs and patterns; and we shall be charmed by the pervading prettiness of the faces, divine and human.

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In the series of illustrations which follows, I have given the first two places to figs. 113 and 114, because they appear to mark the transition from the earlier to the later phase of the Maturity Period. The former (fig. 113) is representative of a small but highly interesting group of reliefs, of which, had it been possible, I would gladly have included more examples. Fortunately, four other pieces belonging to this group have already been published elsewhere. One of them, a fragment depicting the ‘Birth Scene’ from Loriyān Tangai, can be seen in Foucher’s *L’art gréco-bouddhique*, vol. I, fig. 154; the remaining three in *Ancient Monuments of India*, figs. 97, 100, 136; fig. 100 was found in the Nathu monastery; the provenance of the others is unknown; but their style is so similar that there can be little doubt but that they and the Loriyān Tangai fragment came from one and the same atelier, and it is highly probable that the atelier was in the Sanghao-Nathu district. Fig. 113, which is now in the Lahore Museum, is a rectangular panel, picturing the miracle of the black snake at Rājagṛiha. The story was that a wealthy miser of Rājagṛiha buried his treasure in his garden. After death he turned into a black snake in order to guard it, and in that form terrorized the neighbourhood. At the request of King Bimbisāra the Buddha subdued the snake, which forthwith crept into his begging-bowl. In the centre of this relief stands the thick-set, stocky figure of the Buddha, holding his begging-bowl in his hand with the snake coiled inside it. Below, is a clump of lotuses growing from a small patch of water, and near by stands Bimbisāra, gazing reverently at the snake. At the Buddha's left side is the Vajrapāṇi—a bearded figure armed with a sword—and round about are courtiers and attendants, four on one side and four on the other. Apart from the bearded Vajrapāṇi there are two distinct types of faces in this relief, namely, a thinnish type with long nose and lips rising at the corners, as seen in the faces of the king and the courtier immediately above him, and a much fuller type with short nose, rounded cheeks and softer mouth, as seen in the Buddha and the two attendant figures next to him. These two facial types are characteristic of all the reliefs belonging to this small group, and so, too, are the elaborate head-dresses of the male and female figures. In point of style and workmanship the reliefs show some disparity, enough at least to prove that they are not all by the same hand. None of them, however, is of a high order. Indeed, the impression they convey is that they are the work of indifferent copyists. As to their date, certain early features, like the elaborate head-dresses, the type of the Buddha in fig. 113 and the heavy leaf canopy in A.M.I. No. 136, might suggest relegating the group to the Early phase of the Maturity Period, but the stylized grouping of the figures and the modelling of some of them individually (e.g. the devas squatting on the acanthus capitals in A.M.I. No. 97) point rather to the Later phase. Probably we shall be near the truth if we place them at the very beginning of that phase.

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With fig. 114 we return to the main current of Gandhāra art. This small upright panel (urdhvapatta) of unknown provenance is now in the Lahore Museum. The main subject, illustrated in the lowest register, is Gautama's Flight from the City. In the centre, unhappily much mutilated, the Bodhisattva is shown de face riding out of Kapilavastu, on his horse Kaṇṭhaka, and beside him, on his left, is the lithe and elegant figure of his groom Chandaka, holding the royal umbrella over his master's head. On the Bodhisattva's right is Māra, the Evil One, who tried in vain to deflect the future Buddha from his purpose by offering him the sovereignty of the world. The identity of the other figures is less certain but the much defaced female on the extreme right is probably the city-goddess of Kapilavastu lamenting over the Bodhisattva’s departure, while the princely figure next to her may well be Indra.

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In the two upper registers are abbreviated clichés of well-known scenes which preceded the Flight. In the middle one the Bodhisattva is shown seated on the side of a couch in the pose normally associated with the ‘Sleeping Women’ scene. On his right are his horse and groom, waiting for him to mount; on his left, a very alert guard, grasping a spear. At the top, the ‘Life of Pleasure’ seems to be symbolized by the royal couple seated side by side on a couch and two of their attendants apparently overcome by sleep or drink.

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The school to which this sculpture belonged had reached its zenith during the first phase of the Maturity Period, and the decline which it had since suffered can be appreciated by comparing this slab with, for example, fig. 92 above. The earlier relief, as we have seen, impresses us with the creative artistry of its author. The grouping, though on traditional lines, is well thought out, the individual figures carefully executed, and a few of them remarkably graceful. In the later relief, the crowd of figures in the lowest tier, though modelled with much skill and charm, are of more conventional types and lose their individual significance by being so closely packed together—a feature which is probably due to increasing Indian influence. For the rest, the poor quality both of the design as a whole and of the figural modelling, seems to betray a marked lack of ability on the part of the sculptor.

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One of the best known and most striking examples of Gandhāra art is a relief of phyllite in the Calcutta Museum which depicts the episodes of the White dog barking at the Buddha and of the Buddha exhibiting the serpent to the Kāśyapa brothers (fig. 115). The first of these episodes occurred when the Buddha was paying a call on a householder named Śuka in the neighbourhood of Śrāvastī. Śuka himself chanced to be out, and his dog, which was eating its food on a couch, barked furiously at the visitor. The Buddha bade it be quiet and told it that it was because it had been so rich in a former life that it had now been brought to its present grievous state. Whereupon the dog crept disconsolate into a corner. When Śuka returned and asked the meaning of it all, the Buddha explained that the dog had been Śuka’s own father in his previous life, and bade Śuka ask the dog where his father’s treasure had been hidden before he died. Śuka obeyed, and thereupon the dog crawled beneath the couch and began to scratch at the floor, and, sure enough, when they dug there, they found the treasure. This episode occupies the left end of the relief and comprises four figures, namely, the Buddha, a much defaced figure of the Vajrapāṇi behind him, the dog barking on a couch, and another partly defaced figure on the farther side of the couch, presumably intended for Śuka. But the dog and couch alone would have been quite enough for a Buddhist to identify the scene.

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The second episode, to the right of the foregoing, took place when the Buddha was staying with the Kāśyapa brothers in their hermitage at Uruvilvā. In a corner of the hermitage was a fire-temple in which there dwelt at the time of the Buddha's visit a particularly fierce and venomous snake, a terror to all around. With the reluctant consent of the Kāśyapas, the Buddha took up his abode in the temple, and the snake, cowed into submission by the mere effulgence of his being, crept meekly into his begging-bowl. In our relief the Buddha is shown holding up the begging-bowl and the snake inside it for the Kāśyapas to see. Beside him is the Vajrapāṇi, here a naked figure, and in front the three Kāśyapas, recognizable at once by the cut of their garments falling in a V-shape below the knees. Above, between the Buddha and the Kāśyapas appears the upper part of a youthful deva with long hair and the pretty type of girlish face which is so characteristic of this period. At the right end of the slab is part of a third group illustrating another episode, which owing to the mutilation of the stone cannot now be identified. In order to make it clear that he was depicting three separate scenes the artist has resorted to the usual device of repeating the figure of the Buddha and his attendant Vajrapāṇi in each one of them. But for this it might have been hard to distinguish between the scenes, since the figures are disposed in an unbroken line across the face of the panel. This was, of course, the Greek method which we have already encountered in a number of earlier reliefs (figs. 40-50), and besides this feature there is much else in this relief to remind us of Hellenistic work. But we have only to compare it with, for example, fig. 41, to realize what a very artificial and mimetic thing the Hellenism of Gandhāra art had become in the intervening century. In the earlier relief, the figures, though strung out in semi-isolation and looking in consequence a little self-conscious, are nevertheless natural and unaffected, each with a convincing personality of its own. Their charm lies in their very simplicity and moderation. By contrast, the later relief appears over-stylized and conventional, Greek in form but not in feeling. Indeed, the sculptor seems bent on showing off his cleverness (which is exceptional) in the modelling of the nude and in the effective display of drapery. It is all very praiseworthy, but all rather over-done. Despite their elegance and vitality, his figures lack altogether the engaging charm of the earlier ones.

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The one unmutilated head of the *deva* in the background belongs to a type that became very familiar in the latter part of the second century A.D. but is quite unlike any *deva* of the preceding century. Were there still any likelihood of this relief being confused (as it used to be) with the earlier work, this head alone would suffice to settle the question. The conventional beauty and superb craftsmanship that distinguish this sculpture are characteristic of a great variety of other sculptures referable to the same age, including many fine architectural pieces and a great array of Buddha and Bodhisattva statues (e.g. figs. 128, 129, 138, 139, 140, 142, etc.).

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The four following pieces, figs. 116-19, afford striking illustrations of the growing formality and stylization which marked the work of this period and of the increasing popularity of the pretty-faced *devas*. Fig. 116 is an upright panel (*urdhvapatta*), about 24 in. high, of greyish-white micaceous schist, which came originally from Jamāl-Garhī and is now in the Calcutta Museum. It depicts three scenes from the story of Nanda, half-brother of the Buddha. Of the bottom one, nothing is now left except four pretty heads of *devas* looking on while Nanda is being enticed from his home by the Buddha. This part of the story is told in fig. 121, where Nanda is shown leaving his lovely wife and starting out, with the Buddha’s begging-bowl in hand, to accompany him back to his monastery. But, alas, for Nanda! No sooner had they arrived there than Nanda, much against his will, had his head shaved by the monks’ barber and was forth-with ordained into the Order. This is the scene depicted in the middle panel where the barber is in the act of shaving Nanda, while the Buddha pours out the ceremonial water. At the Buddha’s right shoulder stands the Vajrapāṇi with beard carefully curled in the fashion of the time; and gazing down benignly on the scene are the angelic faces of four *devas* similar to those in the panel below. From then on Nanda was kept an unwilling prisoner in the monastery, and the top panel depicts one of his many attempts to escape. On this occasion he had been left in sole charge of the monastery, with instructions from the Buddha to close all the cell doors before going out. This he tried to do, but had no sooner shut one door than another flew open. So at last he gave up trying and set out to return to his home. But in vain; for as he made his way stealthily through a wood, the Buddha suddenly appeared, advancing towards him; and when Nanda tried to hide behind a tree, the tree rose into the air, leaving him face to face with the Master, who promptly marched him back to the monastery. The story, as told in the relief, is unmistakable. First, on the extreme right, the figure of Nanda locking one of the monastery doors; then the same figure kneeling at the feet of the Buddha, with the tree suspended in the air above his head, while the Vajrapāṇi and other figures stand by, and the celestials look on from above.

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Looking at the carefully regimented and highly stylized figures of this and the two following pieces, one cannot but admire their suave and elegant beauty and the exquisite delicacy of the carving. But one misses the freshness and originality of the older work: the power to give life and dramatic cohesion to a scene apart from its merely mechanical structure. The charm of these sculptures might fitly be compared with that of ornamental flower-beds which require much skill and good taste on the part of the gardener, but no very high degree of creative talent.

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The three reliefs which follow (figs. 117-19) all come from Loriyān Tangai and are made of the same micaceous schist as the foregoing. The subject of fig. 117 is the Buddha preaching his First Sermon in the Deer Park at Sārnāth. It is the same subject as that depicted in fig. 4, and probably also in fig. 59, but in fig. 4, which belongs to the Early Indian School, there is only a wheel set on the top of a column to symbolize the ‘Wheel of the Law’ (dharmacakra) which, in Buddhist parlance, the Teacher then for the first time set in motion; and below it some deer to symbolize the Deer Park. In this Gandhāran relief (fig. 117) the same symbols are repeated, but the centre of the picture is occupied by the Teacher himself seated on a grass-strewn throne beneath a mango canopy. On his right and left are Kauṇḍinya and his companions—the Band of Five—listening to his immortal words, and beyond them, in symmetrical array, a troupe of celestial figures, with the ever-faithful Vajrapāṇi in the background. Note the strongly characterized face of Kauṇḍinya, seated next to the Buddha on his right, which contrasts so sharply with the doll-like countenances of the devas, all fashioned in one mould. These neat and elegant celestials, substantially smaller in stature than the monks, are, as already noted, an outstanding feature of this period. On the other hand, the portrait-like head of Kauṇḍinya calls vividly to mind the features of the monks in fig. 59. As both these reliefs emanate from Loriyān Tangai and both are made of the same stone, it seems likely that, despite their great difference in age, they may have been products of the same art school.

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The elaborate composition in fig. 118 depicts the familiar scene of Indra's visit to the Buddha at the Indraśaila cave. Within the cave the Buddha is seated in meditation, while tongues of flame, kindled by the radiance of his being, lick the walls around. Beneath him, a lion and a wild pig (?) peer meekly from their lairs among the rocks, and not far away are a deer and a wild sheep besides monkeys, peacocks and other wild animals, all serving to proclaim not only the wildness of the spot but the peace that descends on all nature in the presence of the Blessed One. Outside the cave, Indra, distinguished by his tall hat, approaches reverently from the Buddha's left, and opposite to him, on the Buddha's right, is the harpist Pañcaśikha. To complete the picture, two tree-spirits, ensconced in the foliage of their trees, and a multitude of heavenly beings are casting flowers and paying homage to the Buddha. In conformity with the dictates of long-established tradition, the forms and features of the devas are all of one type. As we saw in connexion with fig. 7, this tradition was observed by sculptors of the Early Indian School as far back as the first century B.C., but although the tradition had been maintained since then, the type itself of these heavenly beings had undergone significant changes in the meantime. Thus, the devas who compose the heavenly host in the scene of Māra's defeat in fig. 7, are neither very young nor very comely. Clean-shaven and with fat cheeks and well-nourished bodies, they are merely replicas of the earthly princes and nobles figured in other scenes on the same gateways, and they are dressed in the same attire. This Indian type was sometimes reproduced by the sculptors of Gandhāra, but during the Adolescent Period the devas usually wore moustaches and had younger and more forceful expressions (e.g. figs. 59, 60, 62, 67). This moustached type was lasted on, along with the moustached type of the Buddha, into the Early Maturity Period, but I cannot recall any later examples than figs. 96, 97. At that time youthful and comely faces, alike for mortals and immortals, were already becoming the fashion. Thus in fig. 84 the god Indra has a particularly girlish and attractive face, and in fig. 87 not only the *devas* but the aged and dying Buddha himself have the same pleasant, half-smiling features. Another striking example is furnished by fig. 107, where the two *devas* at the top, haloed and richly attired, have just the same effeminate countenances as the pair of diving ‘angels’ (a wholly different class of being) who, like them, are showering flowers on the Buddha. By the time fig. 118 was carved, the number of celestials crowding the scene had much increased, and the multiplicity of similar faces could not but have a monotonous effect. Yet, with all their shortcomings, there is much in these and other sculptures of the same School to compel our admiration. For they have a quiet, gentle melody of their own, and they breathe an air of peace and happiness and goodwill that is the soul of Buddhism. What more could a good Buddhist ask for?

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In the last of these examples (fig. 119), which is the latest of the four, we see the same formality in the disposition of the figures, the same sort of prettiness in the faces of the *devas* and *devis*. Indeed, the *devi* at the back of the horse’s head, who is evidently intended for the city-goddess of Kapilavastu (*nagara-devatā*), must be considered beautiful by any standard. But for the most part the figures are like puppets, with heads too big for their bodies, and movements that are stiff and ungainly. The episode here recounted is the same as that in fig. 114, the flight of the Bodhisattva from Kapilavastu, but instead of the young prince and his horse being shown from the front, they are shown in profile, moving from right to left. In the earlier relief the two *yakshas* supporting the horse’s feet are defaced; but here they are well preserved, and so, too, are the other actors in the scene, namely Chandaka the groom, who stands behind the horse holding the royal umbrella over his master, and above him, in the background, the Vajrapāṇi; while in front of the horse is Māra, bow in hand, and at his back the haloed figure of Indra (cf. fig. 114 above).

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The foregoing relief is referable to the close of the Later Maturity Period, in the early part of the third century A.D. Of about the same age, but entirely different in style, is fig. 120, a relief of phyllite stone from Mamāne-Dherī, near Chārsada, which, like fig. 118, features Indra’s visit to the Buddha in the Indraśaila cave. If we compare the two panels, we see at once how widely they differ in detail and in the quality of their artistry. Thus we note that the walls of the cave, which in fig. 118 were flaming with the effulgence of the Buddha’s person, present a hard, almost bare outline in fig. 120; that the Buddha himself is seated on a throne in the former, on the ground in the latter; that the wild animals beneath the front of the cave in the former are replaced by a line of figures in the latter; that Indra is represented in person in the former, by his elephant Airāvata in the latter; and that, whereas in the former the wild and rocky jungle round the cave, with its birds and animals, and adoring *devas* and *devis* and tree-spirits, is shown in one unbroken array, in the latter the scene is parcelled out by narrow ledges into a number of compartments with a small group of figures in each. We note, too, that the *devas* and *devis* in fig. 120 are not distinguished by the stereotype prettiness of feature that characterizes them in fig. 118; and that the execution, particularly of the draperies, in fig. 120 falls far short of that in fig. 118. That these points of difference are not attributable to the personal idiosyncrasies of the artist of the later sculpture, but to the traditions of his school, is proved by another and earlier relief from the Dharmarājikā at Taxila¹ which displays the same traditional features but a livelier and more naturalistic way of handling them. In choosing fig. 120 for illustration in preference to this earlier and more attractive piece from the Dharmarājikā I was influenced by the fact that it bears on its base a Kharoṣṭhī inscription dated in the year 87 of the Kanishka era. According to the now generally accepted chronology of this period, this date falls within a few years of A.D. 224 and it thus confirms the date of this sculpture arrived at on stylistic grounds (cf. *C.I.I.* vol. II, p. 171, and pl. 34).

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¹ Cf. Taxila, vol. II, pp. 718-19, no. 124, and vol. III, pl. 221.

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Love of the decorative was, and still is, inherent in the Indian temperament, and in the Early Indian School it was constantly asserting itself in one direction or another. Thus, among the few selected examples of the Sāñchī sculptures illustrated in figs. 1-12 we drew attention to the decorative design of the lotus plant in fig. 2 and to the decorative handling of the fleeing hosts of Māra in fig. 7. This instinctive feeling for the decorative which is a hall-mark of Indian art at all ages becomes increasingly apparent in the art of Gandhāra in the latter part of the second century A.D., and there can be little doubt that this spread of Indian influence resulted from the closer contacts between India and Gandhāra after the extension of Kushān rule over Central India and Hindustān. The first effect of this influence was to impart a certain quiet charm to compositions which were tending to become stilted and formal—such compositions, I mean, as those illustrated in figs. 117 and 118. But this initial charm soon wore thin, for though the sculptors of Gandhāra might imitate with some success the superficial embellishments of Indian art, they could not absorb the innate genius of the Indian for the decorative, and so, in the long run, Indian influence led to little more than the display of multiple figures in formal, sometimes geometric, array, or to conventional and sterile designs in which architecture played an increasingly dominant part.

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The employment of architecture as a setting for dramatic scenes was, of course, familiar in earlier Gandhāra art, but in fig. 121 the emphasis laid on the setting is out of all proportion to the scene as a whole. This relief, which I judge to date from the Second Maturity Period, comes from Haḍḍa in Southern Afghānistān and is made of the fine limestone found in that region. Its subject is the first or ‘Enticement’ scene in the Conversion of Nanda, half-brother of the Buddha, the later scenes of which we have already encountered in fig. 116. Nanda is here shown as he leaves the chamber of his bride carrying the Buddha’s begging-bowl; to the left he is again shown tendering the bowl to the Buddha, who refuses to take it, thus inducing the prince to return with him to his monastery, where, despite his protestations, he is forthwith shaved and ordained. The figures in the gallery above are the same as those at the top of the lowest panel of fig. 116, namely the devas and devis witnessing the Buddha’s stratagem from aloft. In this relief the architecture is still an integral part of the scene, providing an imaginative and fanciful representation of the prince’s palace. But it is much overdone in relation to the rest of the picture, and is already paving the way for the use of architecture as the principal factor in compositions of an outstandingly decorative character, countless examples of which are to be seen among the Early Indian sculptures of Bhārhut, Bodh-Gayā, Sāñchī and Mathurā. This further stage is well illustrated in figs. 122 and 123, the former from Loriyān Tangai, the latter of schist from Muhammad Nāri. The subject of both pieces is the same as that illustrated in fig. 100, namely, the Miracle of Śrāvastī, when, in order to convert the unbelievers, the Buddha sat preaching in mid-air on a lotus provided by the two Nāga kings, Nanda and Upananda, and caused unending replicas of himself to appear stretching up to Heaven. The canopy above his head was provided by a mango-tree which he caused to grow miraculously from a seed. It is recorded that he preached in mid-air with flames issuing from his shoulders and a stream of water from his feet, and it is also recorded that a special pavilion for the performance of the miracle (*prātihārya-maṇḍapa*) was built by King Prasenajit. This most wonderful of all miracles was a specially favourite theme at this period, and in the normal versions some characteristic details are shown by which the miracle can at once be identified: the lotus, for example, and the Nāga-rājas who produced it, or the replicas of the Buddha imaged in mid-air, or the flames issuing from his head and the water flowing from his feet. But in fig. 122 the only features that remotely connect it with the great miracle are the border of conventional lotus leaves fringing the edge of the stool on which the Buddha is seated and the architectural setting which presumably represents the pavilion built by King Prasenajit. For the rest, it is a matter of guesswork to identify the scene or the actors in it. Indeed, it is not at the performance of the Śrāvastī Miracle that we are invited to wonder so much as at a highly decorative composition in which the figures are of little more consequence than the finely carved columns and balconies, the amorini and garland design adorning the plinth, and the miniature shrines and false windows that crown the roof.

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In fig. 123, another relief referable to the close of this Later Maturity Period, the decorative scheme is much the same, but the architectural features are more fanciful and ornate, and the artist has paid closer attention to the canonical features of the miracle, so that it can be identified at a glance. Thus the lotus whereon the Buddha is seated is a more realistic plant which at once catches the eye; and two of the re-duplicated images are shown beneath the small arches on either side of the Buddha’s head. This representation of the Grand Miracle, it should be noted, is confined to the middle band of the relief, between which and the upper and lower bands there appears to be no more than a decorative, tactile connexion. Of the two small scenes in the false window above the Buddha’s head, the lower is recognizable as the ‘Sleep of the Women’, the upper as the ‘Flight of the Bodhisattva from Kapilavastu’. In the miniature shrines to right and left are seated Bodhisattva figures with an attendant standing on either side. The group at the bottom of the panel is made up of the last Buddha (Śākyamuni) in the centre, with the six previous Buddhas and the future Buddha (Maitreya) on his right and left, and beyond them figures of devotees, including perhaps the donor or donors. The late date of this carving is confirmed by many minor details, both figural and architectural, among them the dressing of Śākyamuni’s hair in tight ringlets and the designs of the yaksha-supported pillars in the middle band.

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By way of contrast with these typical examples of the architectural style, I have appended two more reliefs of the Grand Miracle executed in the more usual style of the period (figs. 124 and 125). Both reliefs are carved out of ordinary phyllite-stone and are characteristic of Gandhāra sculpture towards the end of the second century A.D., when art had become smug and complacent, and even craftsmanship was already on the wane. From an iconographic point of view these two reliefs are also instructive. Fig. 124 shows Śākyamuni seated on a lotus beneath a canopy provided by the miraculous mango tree. Of the four attendant figures the pair at the back are to be identified clearly as Indra and Brahmā, Indra by his high hat and the vajra he is carrying; Brahmā by his head-dress and the flask in his left hand. It follows, then, that the Bodhisattva on the Buddha’s left, who is likewise carrying a flask, must be Maitreya, the future Buddha, while the one on his right is presumably Mañjuśrī or Avalokiteśvara.

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In fig. 125 the figure of Indra is missing, owing to a break in the stone, but the other three attendant figures correspond to those in fig. 124. Two items of this relief that deserve notice are the Nāga elephants supporting the lotus on which the Buddha is seated and the highly elaborated design of the miraculous mango canopy above the Buddha’s head. Emerging from the cluster of leaves in this canopy are little tree-fairies, one about to crown the Buddha with a flowery wreath, two with garlands in their hands, and two in attitudes of adoration. In another example of the same kind of canopy (fig. 126) the wreath is borne by two fairies, while above them is another carrying a garland. The fairies in this relief, but not in fig. 125, are provided with uṣṇīṣas and haloes. That the glorification of the Buddha in these reliefs was inspired by the familiar apotheosis crowning-scenes of Hellenistic art admits of no doubt, but it should also be observed that the miraculous canopy and its tree-spirits are thoroughly Indian while the manner of depicting them is in the best tradition of Gandhāra art at this period. Another good example of the decorative tendency in some of the sculptures of this period is afforded by a comparison of figs. 127-9. All three of these belong to the Later Maturity Period and all depict the same event, namely, the death (*Mahāparinirvāṇa*) of the Buddha. The first of the three, which comes from the Swāt Valley and is now in the Calcutta Museum, might at first sight be thought to be a work of the Adolescent Period. Compare it, for example, with fig. 68, and note the wild sorrow in the faces of the Malla chiefs behind the bier, the grief-stricken figure of Mahākāśyapa at the feet of the Buddha, and the fantastic carvings on the legs of the bier. In spite of the air of artificiality which pervades the whole, these features are more nearly akin to work of the previous century than to that exemplified in figs. 128 and 129. But when we look at the statue-like figure of the dying Buddha himself and at the *deva* behind him with his hand raised in salute, we see at once that the relief could not possibly be earlier than the Later Maturity Period. The fact is that this is an example (of which there are not a few in Gandhāra art) of archaistic work, i.e. of work which was copied from older models. But in this case the sculptor has copied his prototype in part only, and has then lapsed into the smooth, pretty, and conventional style of his own day.

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The next relief (fig. 128) which also comes from Swāt¹ and is now in the Calcutta Museum, is of a very different style. The principle underlying its composition is much the same as that of figs. 127 and 129, but here the decorative element has been accentuated by increasing the number of figures and so arranging them that they produce a tapestry-like pattern of light and dark such as we are familiar with in reliefs of the Sāñchī gateways (cf. figs. 7 and 10*b*, above), though in the earlier work the effect is more natural and spontaneous. That fig. 128 dates from the Later Maturity Period there can be no question. It is patent in every detail: in the border of sea monsters ridden by Amorini; in the line of floating ‘angels’ above the assemblage; in the smooth girlish faces of the celestials showering down their flowers and glorifying the Blessed One; in the statue-like figure on the couch, and in the exquisitely fine carving of the figures—carving such as we have already remarked on the canopies of figs. 125 and 126 and that we shall meet again in many of the contemporary images and architectural members (e.g. figs. 137-9 and 145-7). Such miniature-like carving is more suited to ivory than to stone and it was in all probability imitated from ivory work of the period. As to the actors in this scene, note the unusual appearance and position of the bearded Vajrapāṇi seated beside Subhadra, the Buddha's last convert, in front of the couch, and note the tall monk holding a fly-whisk at the Buddha's head, whom Foucher identifies with Upavāna. The monk holding a staff on the extreme left is no doubt Mahākāśyapa, and the nude figure beside him the Ājivika who had given him the news of the Buddha's death. The monk who has fallen on his knees at the foot of the couch is presumably Ānanda, and the one raising him from the ground Anuruddha. The tall princely-looking couple on the extreme right must, I think, be Indra and his consort, not Malla nobles as Foucher was inclined to think. This I infer from the *vajra* carried by the male figure in his left hand, a detail which Foucher's photograph probably failed to disclose.

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¹ M. Foucher ascribes this to Loriyān Tangai, but that seems to be an error.

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Of fig. 129, which depicts the same scene, little need be said. It is a crude, commonplace piece of work referable to the closing years of the Later Maturity Period and gives us the measure of the degeneration which was taking place in the output of many of the Gandhāra ateliers at this time, though other ateliers were still maintaining a somewhat higher level. And here we may profitably pause for a moment to look back at the earlier representations of the *Parinirvāṇa* illustrated above in figs. 68, 72, 87, 127 and 128, and observe how in the century and more that intervened between the first and last of this series Gandhāra sculpture lost, step by step, its old virile spirit and its power of imaginative expression. Contemplating fig. 72, we are immediately conscious of the dramatic sense of the artist, of the ‘rapture of repose’ portrayed in the lifeless features of the Blessed One, of the crushing sorrow in the tearful faces of the Vajrapāṇi and the monks in the foreground, of the despair of the Malla chiefs in the background, and of the contrasting impassivity of the *deva* at their side. But when we turn to fig. 129, what do we see? On the bed in the centre a figure that looks for all the world like a stone image fallen on its side—and round about the bier a group of puppet-like figures, with smooth, boyish faces as plump and fatuous as that of the corpse itself and indistinguishable from it or from one another. We can recognize the Vajrapāṇi by the *vajra* in his hand, and Mahākāśyapa by the nude ascetic at his side. Whether the other figures are meant to be celestials or Malla chiefs, it would be hard to say.

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LATER MATURITY PERIOD

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Finally, as a tail-piece to this chapter, I have added fig. 130, as another example of the low level to which much Gandhāra sculpture had sunk by the early part of the third century A.D. The scene is one from the Viśvantara Jātaka, with which we have already made acquaintance in fig. 6. It shows the Bodhisattva in the royal chariot with his wife and two children in the act of giving away his purse to the Brāhman. There is a lively fancy in the half-comic figure of the fat, repulsive-looking Brāhman, and there is decorative value in the stylish design of the horses and chariot. But at best it is a crude and artificial piece of work, the very antithesis of the natural, picturesque portrayal of the same Jātaka by an artist of the Early Indian School at Sāñchī (fig. 6).