Chapter I: Introductory

CONTENTS.

Temple at Buchropully--Kirti Stambha at Worangul--Temples at Somnathpûr and Baillûr--The Kait Iswara at Hullabîd--Temple at Hullabîd.

Of the three styles into which Hindu architecture naturally divides itself, the Chalukyan is neither the least extensive nor the least beautiful, but it certainly is the least known. The very name of the people was hardly recognised by early writers on Indian subjects, and the first clear ideas regarding them were put forward, in 1826, in a paper by Sir Walter Elliot, in the fourth volume of the ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society.’ To this he added another paper, in the twentieth volume of the ‘Madras Journal:’ and since then numerous inscriptions of this dynasty and of its allied families have been found, and translated by General Le Grand, Jacob and others, in the ‘Bombay Journal,’ and by Professor Dowson in the ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society’ here.[401]

From all this we gather that early in the sixth century of our era[402] this family rose into importance at Kalyan--in what is now the Nizam’s territory--and spread eastward as far as the shores of the Bay of Bengal, in the neighbourhood of the mouths of the Kistnah and Godavery. They extended, in fact, from shore to shore, right across the peninsula, and occupied a considerable portion of the country now known as Mysore, and northward extended as far, at least, as Dowlutabad.

Beyond this, they seem to have been closely allied with the Ballabhi dynasty of Gujerat, and afterwards to be the parent stems from which the Hoisala Bellalas of Dwarasamudra took their rise.

Their affiliations and descents are more easily traced than their origin. Jaya Singa, the founder of the Kalyan dynasty (A.D. 500?), claims to be of the Solar race of Rajputs, and descended from kings reigning in Ayodhya 1000 years (fifty-nine generations) before his time. This, however, seems as likely to be a reminiscence of the origin of their religion as of their race; for, though we are not yet in a position to prove it, it seems likely that the Chalukyas were originally Jains. At all events, it seems clear that the extension of the Jaina religion is nearly conterminous with that of Chalukyan sway, and the time at which the religion spread over India was also coincident with their rise and fall.

It would, of course, be too much to assert that the Chalukyas were either the revivors of the Jaina faith or even its principal propagators; but, during the early part of their history, this form of faith is inextricably mixed up with the more orthodox religions as practised by them, and prevails to the present day, in the countries where they ruled. The style of architecture which they invented when Jains was, it is true, practised afterwards by them both as Vaishnavas and Saivas; but it seems to have had its origin in the earlier form of faith.

Like all dynasties of Central and Northern India, the Chalukyas suffered eclipse in the dark ages that intervened between A.D. 750 and 950;[403] and the difficulty is to know whether we have any temples in their style before that period. Those at Aiwulli and Purudkul described above (Woodcuts Nos. 121 and 189), belong to their age, and may have been erected by early kings of this race; but they do not belong to their style. Their sikras, or towers, either show the curvilinear outline of the northern style, or the storeyed pyramids of the Dravidians. It is as if this intrusive race adopted hesitatingly the styles of earlier inhabitants of the country, but that it was not till they had consolidated their power, and developed peculiar institutions of their own, that they expressed them in the style to which their name has been affixed.

It is more than probable that the materials exist for settling these and all other questions connected with this style; but, unfortunately, if it is so, they exist in the Nizam’s territory, and that is _terra incognita_ to us in so far as architecture is concerned. No one has yet passed through it who had any knowledge of the art, or was even aware that any interest attached to the forms or age of the buildings. It thus happens that, but for a few stray photographs, it must have been passed over as a style less known, from an artistic point of view, than that of almost any civilized country in the world. The rulers of the Hydrabad territory being bigoted Mahomedans, it is to be feared that great destruction of native temples may have taken place; but the real cause of our ignorance on the subject is the indifference and apathy to such matters in those who rule the rulers, and who, if they chose, could clear up the whole mystery in a few months or years, and with little expense to themselves, beyond expressing a wish that it should be done.

It may be, however, that the remains have perished. The line of Mahomedan capitals--Bijapur, Kalburgah, Bidar, and Hydrabad--which have long occupied the native country of the Chalukyas, is painfully suggestive of the destruction of Hindu temples; but still the wealth of remains that exists in Dharwar on the south and west, and the Berars on the north of the Nizam’s territories, is so great that all certainly cannot have perished, and many will probably be found to solve the historical enigmas, though they may not be sufficient to restore the style in its integrity.

Whether Kalyani itself has escaped is by no means clear. In a list of remains in the Bombay Presidency, prepared by Mr. Burgess, dated 1873, there are the following entries:--“Three miles to the south-east of town, some fine temples and other ruins;” and further on, on the authority of the late Bhau Daji, it is stated, “has extensive ruins for miles around. There are caves in the hills, called Hazar Khotri, or Thousand Chambers. Pir Padshah Musjid is probably part of a Hindu temple.” If this is so, the history of the style is probably all there, and only awaits the advent of some one capable of reading it.

The simplest and most typical example of the style that I know, and the one, consequently, which will serve best to explain its peculiarities, is at a place called Buchropully, not far from Hydrabad. It probably is also one of the oldest, and may even date before the cataclysm; but this is only a guess. I have no such real knowledge of the early form of the style as would enable me to feel sure on such a subject. As will be observed, the temple itself is polygonal, or star-shaped, of twenty-four sides (Woodcut No. 216). These, however, are not obtained, as in the northern style, by increments added flatly to a square, as will be explained hereafter, but are points touching a circle, in this instance apparently right angles, but afterwards were either more acute or flatter than a right angle. There are four principal faces, however, larger than the others: three occupied by niches, the fourth by the entrance. The roof is in steps, and with a flat band on each face in continuation of the larger face below. The summit ornament is a flower or vase, in this instance apparently incomplete. The porch is simple, consisting only of sixteen pillars, disposed equidistantly, without any attempt at the octagonal dome of the Jains or the varied arrangements subsequently attempted.

Although of no great magnificence in itself, this temple is interesting as possessing all the features which distinguish the Chalukyan style from those that surround it either on the north or south. Instead of their square plans, this one is practically star-shaped. The sikra is a straight-lined cone, and its decorations in steps is as unlike the Dravidian spire in storeys as it is to the curvilinear outline of the Jaina or northern temples. The porch, too, is open, and consists of columns spaced equidistantly over its floor, without either the bracketing arrangements of the southern or the domical forms of the northern styles. Situated as it was locally, half-way between the Dravidian and northern styles, the Chalukyan borrowed occasionally a feature or form from one or from the other, but never to such an extent as to obliterate its individuality, or to prevent its being recognised as a separate and distinct style of architecture.

When the Nizam’s territory is examined, we shall probably be able to trace all the steps by which this simple village example developed into the metropolitan temple of Hammoncondah, the old capital, six miles north of Worangul. According to an inscription on its walls, this temple was erected, in A.D. 1163, by Pratapa Rudra,[404]

who, though not exactly himself a Chalukya in blood, succeeded to their possessions and their style. The temple itself is triple, having three detached cells of very considerable dimensions, in front of which is a portico, supported by between 240 or 300 pillars, disposed in a varied and complicated pattern,[405] but without any sign, so far as I can trace, of the Jaina octagonal arrangement for a dome. Like most of these late temples, this one was never finished. It was too extensive for one king’s reign, even for one so powerful as he was who undertook it, and before it was heartily taken up again the Mahomedans were upon them (in A.D. 1309), and there was an end of Hindu greatness and of Hindu art.

Some of its details, however, are of great beauty, especially the entrances, which are objects on which the architects generally lavished their utmost skill. The preceding woodcut (No. 217) will explain the form of those of the great temple, as well as the general ordinances of the pillars of the great portico. Nothing in Hindu art is more pleasing than the pierced slabs which the Chalukyas used for windows. They are not, so far as I recollect, used--certainly, not extensively--in any other style, but as used by them are highly ornamental and appropriate, both externally and internally.

The pillars, too, are rich, without being overdone; and as it is only in pairs that they are of the same design, the effect of the whole is singularly varied, but at the same time pleasing and elegant.

There are at Hammoncondah or Worangul a great number of smaller temples and shrines, in the same style as the great temple, and, like it, apparently all dedicated to Siva, from the constant presence of his bull everywhere. Most are ruined; but whether this is owing to Moslem bigotry or faulty construction, it is difficult to say. Judging from appearances, I am inclined to believe the latter was the true cause. The mode of building is without mortar, and the joints are by no means well fitted. The style is also remarkably free from figure-sculpture, which is generally the thing that most easily excites the iconoclastic feelings of the followers of the Prophet.

In Worangul there are four Kirti Stambhas, as they are called, facing one another, as if they formed the entrances to a square enclosure (Woodcut No. 218). No wall is there, however, nor is there anything inside; so the object of their erection is by no means apparent. They were set up by the same Pratapa Rudra who built the great temple in the old capital, and built several others in this new city. It cannot be said they are particularly elegant specimens of art. Their main interest lies in their being the lineal descendants of the four gateways at Sanchi (Woodcut No. 33), and they may have been erected to replace some wooden or frailer structure which had fallen into decay. Whether this is so or not, they are curious as exemplifying how, in the course of a thousand years or thereabouts, a wooden style of building may lose all traces of its origin and become as essentially lithic as these, but still betray its origin as clearly as they do; for it seems most unlikely that any such form could have been invented by any one using stone constructions, and that only.

MYSORE.

It is in the province of Mysore, however, that the Chalukyan style attained its fullest development and highest degree of perfection during the three centuries--A.D. 1000 to 1300--in which the Hoisala Bellalas had supreme sway in that country. Three temples, or rather groups of temples, were erected by them--the first at a place called Somnathpûr, south of Mysore, by Vinaditya Bellala, who ascended the throne A.D. 1043; the second at Baillûr, in the centre of the province, owed its origin apparently to Vishnu Verddhana, in or about A.D. 1114; the last and greatest at a place they called Dwarsamudra--the Gate of the Sea--now known as Hullabîd, not far from the last-named, from which the capital was removed by Vijaya Narsinha, in 1145. It continued to be the metropolis of the kingdom, till it was destroyed and the building of the great temple stopped by the Mahomedan invasion in A.D. 1310-1311.[406]

Even in this short series we see evidence of that downward progress of art, especially in sculpture, which is everywhere the characteristic of Hindu art. Though the design is the grandest, the sculpture and details of Hullabîd are inferior to those of Baillûr, and Somnathpûr seems superior to both. We consequently long to trace back the history of the style to some more distant date, when we might find it emerging in purity and elegance from some unknown prototype. Unfortunately, we are not at present able to do this. We are obliged to leap over the dark ages to the caves and temples of Badami and Aiwulli, and have no intermediate examples to connect the two. It is more than probable that they do exist, and will be found when looked for. Meanwhile, however, we can only assume that the star-like plans and peculiar details of the style were elaborated between the 6th and the 10th centuries in Central and Western India, but where and by whom remains still to be discovered.

Like the great temple at Hammoncondah, that at Somnathpûr is triple, the cells, with their sikras, being attached to a square pillared hall, to the fourth side of which a portico is attached, in this instance of very moderate dimensions.[407] The whole stands in a square cloistered court, and has the usual accompaniments of entrance-porches, stambhas, &c.

The following illustration (No. 219) will give an idea--an imperfect one, it must be confessed--of the elegance of outline and marvellous elaboration of detail that characterises these shrines. Judging from the figure of a man in one of the photographs, its height seems to be only about 30 ft., which, if it stood in the open, would be almost too small for architectural effect; but in the centre of an enclosed court, and where there are no larger objects to contrast with it, it is sufficient, when judiciously treated, to produce a considerable impression of grandeur, and apparently does so in this instance.

The temple at Somnathpûr is a single but complete whole; that at Baillûr, on the other hand, consists of one principal temple, surrounded by four or five others and numerous subordinate buildings, enclosed in a court by a high wall measuring 360 ft. by 440 ft., and having two very fine gateways or gopuras in its eastern front. As will be seen from the following plan (Woodcut No. 220), the great temple consists of a very solid vimana, with an anterala, or porch; and in front of this a porch of the usual star-like form, measuring 90 ft. across. The whole length of the temple, from the east door to the back of cell, is 115 ft., and the whole stands on a terrace about 3 ft. high, and from 10 ft. to 15 ft. wide. This is one of the characteristic features of Chalukyan design, and adds very considerably to the effect of their temples.

The arrangements of the pillars have much of that pleasing subordination and variety of spacing which is found in those of the Jains, but we miss here the octagonal dome, which gives such poetry and meaning to the arrangements they adopted. Instead of that, we have only an exaggerated compartment in the centre, which fits nothing, and, though it does give dignity to the centre, it does it so clumsily as to be almost offensive in an architectural sense.

It is not, however, either to its dimensions, or the disposition of its plan, that this temple owes its pre-eminence among others of its class, but to the marvellous elaboration and beauty of its details. The effect of these, it is true, has been, in modern times, considerably marred by the repeated coats of whitewash which the present low order of priests consider the most appropriate way of adding to the beauty of the most delicate sculptures. Notwithstanding this, however, their outline can always be traced, and where the whitewash has not been applied, or has been worn off, their beauty comes out with wonderful sharpness.

The following woodcut (No. 221) will convey some idea of the richness and variety of pattern displayed in the windows of the porch. These are twenty-eight in number, and all are different. Some are pierced with merely conventional patterns, generally star-shaped, and with foliaged bands between; others are interspersed with figures and mythological subjects--the nearest one, for instance, on the left, in the woodcut, represents the Varaha Avatar, and others different scenes connected with the worship of Vishnu, to whom the temple is dedicated. The pierced slabs themselves, however, are hardly so remarkable as the richly-carved base on which they rest, and the deep cornice which overshadows and protects them. The amount of labour, indeed, which each facet of this porch displays is such as, I believe, never was bestowed on any surface of equal extent in any building in the world; and though the design is not of the highest order of art, it is elegant and appropriate, and never offends against good taste.

The sculptures of the base of the vimana, which have not been whitewashed, are as elaborate as those of the porch, in some places more so; and the mode in which the undersides of the cornices have been elaborated and adorned is such as is only to be found in temples of this class. The upper part of the tower is anomalous. It may be that it has been whitewashed and repaired till it has assumed its present discordant appearance, which renders it certainly a blot on the whole design. My own impression rather is, that, like many others of its class, it was left unfinished, and the upper part added at subsequent periods. Its original form most probably was that of the little pavilions that adorn its portals, one of which is represented in the following woodcut (No. 222), which has all the peculiar features of the style--the flat band on each face, the three star-like projections between, and the peculiar crowning ornament of the style. The plan of the great tower, and the presence of the pavilions where they stand, seems to prove almost beyond doubt that this was the original design; but the design may have been altered as it progressed, or it may, as I suspect, have been changed afterwards.

There seems to be little or no doubt about the date of this temple. It was erected by Vishnu Verddhana, the fourth king of the race, to commemorate his conversion by the celebrated Rama Anuja from the Jaina to the Hindu faith. He ascended the throne A.D. 1114, and his conversion took place soon afterwards; but it is possible he did not live to finish the temple, and as the capital was removed by the next king to Hullabîd, it is possible that the vimana of the great temple, and the erection of some at least of the smaller shrines, may belong to a subsequent period.

HULLABÎD.

The earliest temple known to exist at Hullabîd is a small detached shrine, known by the inexplicable name of Kait Iswara, dedicated to Siva, and probably erected by Vijaya, the fifth king of the Bellala dynasty. Its general appearance will be understood from the next woodcut (No. 223). It is star-shaped in plan, with sixteen points, and had a porch, now so entirely ruined and covered up with vegetation that it is difficult to make out its plan. Its roof is conical, and from the basement to the summit it is covered with sculptures of the very best class of Indian art, and these so arranged as not materially to interfere with the outlines of the building, while they impart to it an amount of richness only to be found among specimens of Hindu art.[408] If it were possible to illustrate this little temple in anything like completeness, there is probably nothing in India which would convey a better idea of what its architects were capable of accomplishing.

It is, however, surpassed in size and magnificence by its neighbour, the great temple at Hullabîd, which, had it been completed, is one of the buildings on which the advocate of Hindu architecture would desire to take his stand. Unfortunately, it never was finished, the works having been stopped by the Mahomedan conquest in 1310 A.D., after they had been in progress apparently for eighty-six years. It is instructive to observe that the single century that elapsed between the execution of the sculpture of the Kait Iswara and of this temple, was sufficient to demonstrate the decay in style which we have already noticed as an inherent characteristic of Indian art. The sculptures of Hullabîd are inferior to those of the Kait Iswara, and those of that temple, again, to those at Baillûr.

The general arrangements of the building are given on the annexed plan (Woodcut No. 224), from which it will be perceived that it is a double temple. If it were cut into halves, each part would be complete with a pillared porch of the same type as that at Baillûr, above referred to, an anterala or intermediate porch, and a sanctuary containing a lingam, the emblem of Siva. Besides this, each half would have in front of it a detached, pillared porch as a shrine for the Bull Nundi, which, of course, was not required in a Vaishnava temple. Such double temples are by no means uncommon in India, but the two sanctuaries usually face each other, and have the porch between them. Its dimensions may roughly be stated as 200 ft. square over all, including all the detached pavilions. The temple itself is 160 ft. north and south, by 122 ft. east and west. Its height, as it now remains, to the cornice is about 25 ft. from the terrace on which it stands. It cannot, therefore, be considered by any means as a large building, though large enough for effect. This, however, can hardly be judged of as it now stands, for there is no doubt but that it was intended to raise two pyramidal spires over the sanctuaries, four smaller ones in front of these, and two more, one over each of the two central pavilions. Thus completed, the temple would have assumed something like the outline shown in the woodcut (No. 225), and if carried out with the richness of detail exhibited in the Kait Iswara (Woodcut No. 223) would have made up a whole which it would be difficult to rival anywhere.

The material out of which this temple is erected is an indurated potstone, of volcanic origin, found in the neighbourhood. This stone is said to be soft when first quarried, and easily cut in that state, though hardening on exposure to the atmosphere. Even this, however, will not diminish our admiration of the amount of labour bestowed on the temple, for, from the number of parts still unfinished, it is evident that, like most others of its class, it was built in block, and carved long after the stone had become hard. As we now see it, the stone is of a pleasing creamy colour, and so close-grained as to take a polish like marble. The pillars of the great Nundi pavilion, which look as if they had been turned in a lathe, are so polished as to exhibit what the natives call a double reflection--in other words, to reflect light from each other. The enduring qualities of the stone seem to be unrivalled, for, though neglected and exposed to all the vicissitudes of a tropical climate for more than six centuries, the minutest details are as clear and sharp as the day they were finished. Except from the splitting of the stone arising from bad masonry, the building is as perfect as when its erection was stopped by the Mahomedan conquest.

It is, of course, impossible to illustrate completely so complicated and so varied a design; but the following woodcut (No. 226) will suffice to explain the general ordonnance of its elevation. The building stands on a terrace ranging from 5 ft. to 6 ft. in height, and paved with large slabs. On this stands a frieze of elephants, following all the sinuosities of the plan and extending to some 710 ft. in length, and containing not less than 2000 elephants, most of them with riders and trappings, sculptured as only an Oriental can represent the wisest of brutes. Above these is a frieze of “shardalas,” or conventional lions--the emblems of the Hoisala Bellalas who built the temple. Then comes a scroll of infinite beauty and variety of design; over this a frieze of horsemen and another scroll; over which is a bas-relief of scenes from the ‘Ramayana,’ representing the conquest of Ceylon and all the varied incidents of that epic. This, like the other, is about 700 ft. long. (The frieze of the Parthenon is less than 550 ft.) Then come celestial beasts and celestial birds, and all along the east front a frieze of groups from human life, and then a cornice, with a rail, divided into panels, each containing two figures. Over this are windows of pierced slabs, like those of Baillûr, though not so rich or varied. These windows will be observed on the right and left of the woodcut. In the centre, in place of the windows, is first a scroll, and then a frieze of gods and heavenly apsaras--dancing girls and other objects of Hindu mythology. This frieze, which is about 5 ft. 6 in. in height, is continued all round the western front of the building, and extends to some 400 ft. in length. Siva, with his consort Parvati seated on his knee, is repeated at least fourteen times; Vishnu in his nine Avatars even oftener. Brahma occurs three or four times, and every great god of the Hindu Pantheon finds his place. Some of these are carved with a minute elaboration of detail which can only be reproduced by photography, and may probably be considered as one of the most marvellous exhibitions of human labour to be found even in the patient East.

It must not, however, be considered that it is only for patient industry that this building is remarkable. The mode in which the eastern face is broken up by the larger masses, so as to give height and play of light and shade, is a better way of accomplishing what the Gothic architects attempted by their transepts and projections. This, however, is surpassed by the western front, where the variety of outline, and the arrangement and subordination of the various facets in which it is disposed, must be considered as a masterpiece of design in its class. If the frieze of gods were spread along a plain surface it

would lose more than half its effect, while the vertical angles, without interfering with the continuity of the frieze, give height and strength to the whole composition. The disposition of the horizontal lines of the lower friezes is equally effective. Here again the artistic combination of horizontal with vertical lines, and the play of outline and of light and shade, far surpass anything in Gothic art. The effects are just what the mediæval architects were often aiming at, but which they never attained so perfectly as was done at Hullabîd.

Before leaving Hullabîd, it may be well again to call attention to the order of superposition of the different animal friezes, alluded to already, when speaking of the rock-cut monastery described by the Chinese Pilgrims (_ante_, p. 135). There, as here, the lowest were the elephants; then the lions; above these came the horses; then the oxen; and the fifth storey was in the shape of a pigeon. The oxen here is replaced by a conventional animal, and the pigeon also by a bird of a species that would puzzle a naturalist. The succession, however, is the same, and, as mentioned above, the same five genera of living things form the ornaments of the moonstones of the various monuments in Ceylon. Sometimes in modern Hindu temples only two or three animal friezes are found, but the succession is always the same, the elephants being the lowest, next above them are the lions, and then the horses, &c. When we know the cause of it, it seems as if this curious selection and succession might lead to some very suggestive conclusions. At present we can only call attention to it in hopes that further investigation may afford the means of solving the mystery.

If it were possible to illustrate the Hullabîd temple to such an extent as to render its peculiarities familiar, there would be few things more interesting or more instructive than to institute a comparison between it and the Parthenon at Athens. Not that the two buildings are at all like one another; on the contrary, they form the two opposite poles--the alpha and omega of architectural design; but they are the best examples of their class, and between these two extremes lies the whole range of the art. The Parthenon is the best example we know of pure refined intellectual power applied to the production of an architectural design. Every part and every effect is calculated with mathematical exactness, and executed with a mechanical precision that never was equalled. All the curves are hyperbolas, parabolas, or other developments of the highest mathematical forms--every optical defect is foreseen and provided for, and every part has a relation to every other part in so recondite a proportion that we feel inclined to call it fanciful, because we can hardly rise to its appreciation. The sculpture is exquisitely designed to aid the perfection of the masonry--severe and godlike, but with no condescension to the lower feelings of humanity.

The Hullabîd temple is the opposite of all this. It is regular, but with a studied variety of outline in plan, and even greater variety in detail. All the pillars of the Parthenon are identical, while no two facets of the Indian temple are the same; every convolution of every scroll is different. No two canopies in the whole building are alike, and every part exhibits a joyous exuberance of fancy scorning every mechanical restraint. All that is wild in human faith or warm in human feeling is found portrayed on these walls; but of pure intellect there is little--less than there is of human feeling in the Parthenon.

It would be possible to arrange all the buildings of the world between these two extremes, as they tended toward the severe intellectual purity of the one, or to the playful exuberant fancy of the other; but perfection, if it existed, would be somewhere near the mean. My own impression is, that if the so-called Gothic architects had been able to maintain for two or three hundred years more the rate of progress they achieved between the 11th and the 14th century, they might have hit upon that happy mean between severe constructive propriety and playful decorative imaginings which would have combined into something more perfect than the world has yet seen. The system, however, as I have endeavoured to point out elsewhere, broke down before it had acquired the requisite degree of refinement, and that hope was blighted never to be revived. If architecture ever again assumes an onward path, it will not be by leaning too strongly towards either of the extremes just named, but by grasping somewhere the happy mean between the two.

For our present purpose, the great value of the study of these Indian examples is that it widens so immensely our basis for architectural criticism. It is only by becoming familiar with forms so utterly dissimilar from those we have hitherto been conversant with, that we perceive how narrow is the purview that is content with one form or one passing fashion. By rising to this wider range we shall perceive that architecture is as many-sided as human nature itself, and learn how few feelings and how few aspirations of the human heart and brain there are that cannot be expressed by its means. On the other hand, it is only by taking this wide survey that we appreciate how worthless any product of architectural art becomes which does not honestly represent the thoughts and feelings of those who built it, or the height of their loftiest aspirations.

* * * * *

To return, however, from this digression. There are some eight or nine different temples in this style illustrated by photographs in the great work on the ‘Architecture of Dharwar and Mysore,’[409] which exhibit the peculiarities of this style in more or less detail; but none of these plates are accompanied by plans or details that throw new light on the subject, and none of the temples are either so large or so beautiful as those just described, so that the enumeration of their unfamiliar names would add very little to the interest of the subject.

It would be very interesting, however, if we could adduce some northern examples of the style from either the capital city of the Ballabhis, or some town in their kingdom. For about two centuries--A.D. 500 to 700--they were a leading power in India, and closely allied to the Chalukyas; and their style, if any examples could be found, would throw great light on that of their southern allies just at the period when it is most wanted. Unfortunately, however, even the site of their capital is unknown. If it were at Wulleh, near Gogo, on the shores of the Gulf of Cambay, as is generally supposed, it has perished root and branch. Not one vestige of its architecture now remains, and what antiquities have been found seem all to belong to a much more modern period, when a city bearing that name may have existed on the spot. If it were situated near Anhulwarra Puttun, which seems far more probable, it has been quarried to supply materials for the successive capitals which from that time forward have occupied that favoured neighbourhood, and it would require the keen eye of a practised archæologist to detect Chalukyan details in the temples and mosques that have been erected there during the last 800 years. Nothing of the sort has yet been attempted, and no materials consequently exist for the elucidation of one of the most interesting chapters in the history of Indian art.