Chapter 16

From Bichhakor to Hethaura is about sixteen miles. For the first seven miles the channel serves as a road; but both sides consist of low steep hills and precipices; the former covered with thick woods, among which are many pines. The ascent on the whole is considerable, but is nowhere steep; and with a little pains, the road might be made very good for loaded oxen, or even for light carriages. Even now, cattle convey along it on their backs the usual burthen of grain. About seven miles from Bichhakor, the road proceeds to the right from the channel, through a very strong pass called Chiriyaghat, or bird passage. It is commanded by two hills, which are less than a mile from the river, and which, although steep, are not high. The road between them is narrow, but in other respects is not bad. Colonel Kirkpatrick {197} considers Chiriyaghat as the name of the whole ridge, and not as that of the pass, as the name would seem to imply, and as I understood. From Chiriyaghat to Hethaura, the road is very good for loaded cattle, and might be easily rendered fit for carts. It descends gently through a country that rises into small swells, and has few trees, but is intersected by several dry water courses. About a mile from Hethaura, the Karara, coming from the east, passes the road. The ford is perfectly easy, and the road from thence to Hethaura is good, leading through a stately forest. From Chiriyaghat to Hethaura, there is no water except the Karara, a dirty black stream, which it is unsafe to drink, being black and unwholesome.

The route to Hethaura above described by Gar Pasara, or as he writes it Goolpussra, {198a} or Goorpussra, {198b} according to Colonel Kirkpatrick, possesses decided advantages over that by the Bhareh pass, situated farther east.

Hethaura stands on a fine plain, about a mile wide, which is bounded on the north by the Raputi, and on the south by the Karara. The soil of this plain is good, but none of it is cultivated, and most of it is covered with stately forests of the Sakhuya or Sal, which are kept clear of underwood, by burning at this season the fallen leaves and dry grass. This is done to all the forests in the neighbourhood, and every night of my stay, the surrounding hills were illuminated in a very grand manner.

The Raputi is a beautiful rapid clear stream, which, having come from the north, turns here to the west, and after having been joined by the Karara some way below, passes till it joins the Gandaki, through a valley, the lower part of which is cultivated, but all near Hethaura is waste, although the plain there would admit of a considerable extent of cultivation, should ever the jealousy of the Nepal government be so far removed as to allow the forests to be cleared. This, however, is not likely soon to be the case, as these forests increase the insalubrity of the air at Hethaura, which is one of the most important stations that could be chosen by invaders coming from the south. All kind of stores and provisions can be transported to it with ease, and it is a fine situation, admitting of a large camp. This might be secured by taking Makwanpur, a fortress situated about five miles to the eastward on a high hill. The people of Nepal are very jealous concerning Makwanpur, Hariharpur, and Sinduli, as the possession of these would give an enemy the entire command of the Tariyani.

The heat at Hethaura is much more temperate than that of the Tariyani; but, as the warm season advances, the air becomes exceedingly unhealthy, which seems to be chiefly owing to the want of cultivation.

For the accommodation of merchants, Hethaura has a brick building, which surrounds a square court. There are also a few shops.

From Hethaura to Bhimphedi is a distance of about eighteen miles, leading through a narrow defile, between high and steep hills, overgrown with thick woods. The Raputi winds through the defile in an extraordinary manner, so that it is crossed twenty-two times by the way. It is a strong, rapid, clear stream, not too deep to prevent it from being easily forded, so far as the water is concerned; but the channel is filled with rounded slippery stones, that render the fords very bad; when we went, bridges had therefore been constructed of trees laid from stone to stone, and covered with earth, so that cattle might have passed with tolerable ease, nor is the road very bad. From Hethaura to Bhimphedi is usually reckoned one day’s journey; but in returning, I halted by the way, on a clear space, called Maka Paka, which, although of small extent, and uneven, afforded abundance of wood and water; while at Bhimphedi the supply of the latter is scanty, and it is practicable from Maka Paka to go over the hill of Chisapani, and in one day to reach the fine rivulet called Panauni, which is on its north side. Between Maka Paka and Hethaura are a few cleared spots, like it cultivated by rude tribes, who shun all communication with travellers, and dwell in the recesses of forests which protect them from the Gorkhalese.

About fourteen miles from Hethaura, and a little way from Maka Paka, the road leaves the immediate bank of the Raputi, and ascends a very steep and strong bank, called Dokaphedi, from whence to Bhimphedi there is a fine level.

At Bhimphedi, the valley of the Raputi entirely ceases, and the high mountains called Lama Dangra divide it from the country on the north watered by the branches of the Vagmati. A large channel, one of the branches of the Raputi, passes Bhimphedi; but in the dry season it contains no water, and the inhabitants receive a scanty supply from a small spring. Water, however, might probably be procured in abundance, by digging wells in the channel of the torrent.

The height of Bhimphedi, above Hethaura, is very considerable, and the influence of the Ayul is much later in extending there, owing to the coolness of the air. At sunrise, on the 8th April, while the thermometer in the air was at 67° of Fahrenheit’s scale, it sunk to 63° upon being immersed into the spring. This may be considered as the average heat of the place, which is about 27° 30′ of north latitude. Here the mercury in our barometer sunk out of sight below the scale, which descended only to twenty-six inches; nor during our stay in Nepal did the mercury ever reach that height. At Bhimphedi, the vegetable productions put on a strong resemblance to those of Europe. It is a small village inhabited by Parbatiyas, and where some public buildings have been erected for the accommodation of passengers. Some shops afford grain, and such articles of consumption as Hindu travellers usually require.

From Bhimphedi to the copper mine (Tamrakhani) on the Panauni, is about 5½ miles over the chain of mountains called Lamadangra, and by the pass called Chisapani. The mountain is of great elevation, and very steep, but not very rugged; nor are the woods thick, although the trees are lofty. Except in steepness, the road is not bad.

About a mile and a half from Bhimphedi, I came to a fort called Chisapani, considered as the bulwark of Nepal; but it is by no means fitted to inspire us with respect for the skill of the engineers of Gorkha. It is situated on the declivity of the hill, so that an assailant might go round by the right, and when he had got above it, even with musquetry, the garrison could not show their faces on the works. Its form will be understood from the sketch.

[Picture: Chisapani Fort]

The center in which the gates are is commanded by the two wings. The whole is built of brick, without any ditch. The wall on the upper side is about thirteen feet high; but on the lower front, the height of the parapet being carried round on a level, the elevation may be eighteen feet. This fort is always guarded by a company of seapoys; and, if fully garrisoned, might contain two hundred men. Round the fort a space has been cleared from trees; but so steep is the hill, that an enemy resting at the edge of the forest, and within two hundred yards of the fort, is not from thence visible. Immediately above the fort is a small village and market, (bazar;) but the Hindu engineers have been so improvident, that the only supply of water is about half a mile higher up the mountain. There, near the road, is a small spring of fine clear water, like that at Bhimphedi. It is called Chisa Pani, or the cold water, and is reckoned unwholesome, probably from people having suffered by drinking it rashly, when they have been heated by ascending the hill: for being a pure spring, it is probably excellent water.

For about a mile beyond the spring, the road continues to ascend, although with a more moderate declivity than below the fort. At the summit of the hill are some old fortifications, which were said to form the boundary between Nepal Proper and Makwanpur. The view from thence is said to be very grand, but a thick haze in all directions hindered me from seeing any thing except the neighbouring hills.

From this summit to the Panauni river, there is a very steep descent of about two miles through a beautiful forest of oaks, which is clear from underwood, and ornamented with the purple flowers of a large rhododendron, and with innumerable parasitical plants, having splendid and odorous flowers. In this forest, on account of its northern exposure, the pine does not thrive. The road over this mountain called Chisapani, is on the whole fatiguing; nor will it admit of any load being transported by cattle. To conduct a road over such a mountain, with proper slopes, so as to enable carriages to pass, is a work not to be expected from the natives, who, even if they were able to contrive such a work, would be afraid to put it in execution; as they would consider it as likely to afford too free an intercourse with their more powerful neighbours; and jealousy of strangers is the predominant principle in the Nepal government.

The Panauni is a clear rapid stream, with various branches, which come from the west and north, and water the country called Lahuri, or Little Nepal. All these branches unite where the road descends from Chisapani, and run to the east to join the Vagmati. Having crossed the Panauni twice, and observed in its channel numerous large masses of grey granite, I halted to breakfast at a small village named Tamra Khani. Near it is a productive copper mine, which the jealousy of the people hindered me from seeing, nor could I procure any of the ore, except a few small fragments. Tamra Khani, or the copper mine, is a small village inhabited by mountain Hindus, (Parbatiyas,) and situated in a very narrow part of the valley, which is straitened by an insulated hill on the north side of the river. Although its situation is low, yet being subject to continual high winds, this place is by the natives considered as very cold.

From thence I proceeded about six miles, and having at first followed the principal stream of the Panauni, and then one of its branches, I halted a little beyond Chitlong, after having had a good view of Lahuri Nepal. Except in dimensions, this so much resembles the larger valley, that I need not take up much time in its description. The road through it frequently crosses the river, and ascends a steep hill above a village named Marku; but this might be in a great measure avoided. The whole valley is not only clear of woods, but very bare. Its surface is extremely uneven, but is finely watered by numerous springs and rivulets, so that it is well cultivated, and produces much grain. The whole appearance of Lahuri Nepal, and its vegetable productions, strongly resemble those of the wilder parts of Britain; and, during my stay, I was entertained with the note of an old acquaintance, the cuckoo. The air of the higher part of the valley where we encamped is much cooler than that of Kathmandu, and was so sharp to our relaxed habits, that our winter clothing became comfortable, although Chitlong is situated nearly in twenty-seven degrees and a half of north latitude. I judge from the temperature of the springs, as they issue from the earth, that its mean heat is 58½ degrees of Fahrenheit’s scale. The winters, however, are never severe; and at that season the fields produce a crop of wheat, while in summer they yield one of rice. The great inferiority of this country, when compared with the mountains of Europe, consists in its pasture, which is very poor. It is, however, of a more nourishing quality than the rank grass of the Tariyani; for the cattle of Chitlong are in excellent condition when compared with those below the mountains.

Lahuri Nepal formerly belonged to the Raja of Lalita Patan. Its chief town called Chitlong, is well built, and its inhabitants are mostly Newars.

From Chitlong is about four miles to Thankot in the greater valley of Nepal. The road is very bad and rough, and conducts through forests over a mountain named Chandangiri, and nearly as difficult of ascent and descent as Chisapani. It derives its name, signifying sandal mountain, from one of the fables in the Hindu mythology, which states, that the goddess Parwati, the wife of Siva, rubbed herself with the powder of this fragrant wood while she sat on the mountain. Colonel Kirkpatrick calls this Chandraghiri, or the Mountain of the Moon. {204} On the highest part of the pass a house has been built for the accommodation of passengers. In the wooden carved work of this building are some very indecent figures, which by the natives are considered as fit ornaments, even in places erected from religious motives, as all these houses for the accommodation of travellers are.

Thankot is a small town, finely supplied with wood and water. It stands on a rocky eminence at the south west corner of the valley of Nepal, in a district separated from the other parts of the plain by a low ridge of hills. On the most conspicuous part of this ridge stands Kirtipur, a considerable town. This part of the valley seems to be a good deal elevated above the portion which contains Kathmandu; and I found the heat of a spring in a small wood above Thankot to be 59½ degrees of Fahrenheit’s thermometer. From Thankot to Kathmandu is about seven miles over very uneven cultivated fields, with no roads but foot-paths.

The larger valley of Nepal is somewhat of a circular form, and is watered by numerous branches of the Vagmati, which flow from the surrounding hills towards the centre, and unite into one stream a little way south from the capital. From the place of junction the Vagmati runs south, and goes to the Tariyani, after having forced a passage through the mountains. Taken in the largest sense, therefore, the valley of Nepal comprehends all the grounds watered by these branches of the Vagmati, and, according to this definition, it is about twenty-two miles from east to west, and twenty miles from north to south. This extent is every where bounded by a chain of hills, all of which are steep, and some of them rise into high mountains. Of these the most remarkable are Shiva, or Siwapuri, on the north, Nagarjun on the west, Chandangiri on the south-west, Pulihu on the south east, and Devikot on the east. It must be observed, that from these hills, various branches reach a considerable way into the plain, and separate from it small vallies, most of which are considerably elevated above the general level, and from these vallies issue the various streams by which the country is irrigated. The larger valley, reduced by these branches, may be about fourteen miles each way. A person placed in the centre of this extent would consider the whole as one great level, but on travelling about, he frequently comes to very deep hollows, excavated by the various branches of the river, which flow with a very gentle current in large sandy channels. Except after heavy rains, these are almost always fordable, and are commonly sunk fifty or sixty feet perpendicular below the general level of the plain.

It appears evident to me, that Colonel Kirkpatrick {206} judged rightly in supposing that this valley has formerly been a lake, which has gradually deposited all the alluvial matter that now forms the different substrata of the plain. The extent of the lake may in all places be traced by that of the alluvial matters, above the edges of which generally appear irregularly shaped large stones, which, having rolled down from the hills, stopped at the water’s edge as usual in the lakes of hilly countries. The memory of the lake is preserved in the fables contained in the books of the natives, which mention the deity by whom the mountain was cleft to drain off the water, together with numerous circumstances connected with this event. The following is an account of these fables that was communicated to me by Colonel Crawford. When the valley of Nepal was an immense lake, an incarnation of Buddha was born in that country. A petition was therefore made to the gods requesting that the lake might be drained, that the valley might be filled with inhabitants, and that thus the number of the followers of Buddha might increase. The gods attended to this petition, and ordered Menjoo Dev’ to evacuate the waters by making a cut through the mountains. This he performed with one blow of his scimitar, and ever since, the waters of the Vagmati have flowed through the gap, which he then formed. The spirit who had presided over the lake was a large serpent, who, finding his water become scanty, and the dry land beginning every where to appear, became exceedingly wroth, but he was pacified by the gods, who formed for his residence a miraculous tank, which is situated a little to the southward of Lalita Patan. This tank has a number of angles, all of which cannot be seen at once from any station; they can only, therefore, be numbered by walking round the tank; the miraculous nature of which, in the opinion of the natives, is fully demonstrated by no two persons who make the attempt to number these angles, being able to agree concerning this important point.

The Brahmans, it must be observed, have invented another story, equally extravagant, and attribute the blow which cleared the valley to Anirudha, the grandson of Krishna, who at the same time killed Sangkhasur, who until then had been lord of Nepal.

The Vagmati must always have flowed from the valley, to carry away the vast body of water collected in the rainy season, and which evidently was confined by a narrow ledge of rocks, which crosses the channel of the river, where it enters the southern mountainous district. At that time the bottom of the lake must have been a smooth cavity, and it must have been surrounded by small narrow glens, pouring their streams into the lake, as they now do into the valley. As the river gradually wore away the rock, over which it must have been precipitated in a cataract, the water in the lake would subside, and the various streams running from the glens would form deep excavations in the soft matter that had formerly been deposited by the water; and this operation would go on, till the ledge of rock was entirely worn away, and a stop was put to the sinking of the river, by the immerse mass of rock opposed to its influence.

While the lake existed, there must have appeared in it two islands, which now form hills. The one is called Sambhunath, or rather Swayambhunath, as being, in the opinion of the Bouddhists of Nepal and Thibet, a favourite residence of the Supreme Being. It is an elegant hill, with two peaks occupied by religious buildings, and covered with the most stately trees. It is a conspicuous object from almost every part of the valley, and every where appears to great advantage.

The description given of the Temple of Buddha on this hill by Colonel Kirkpatrick {208} is not very accurate, and the drawing is bad, especially in representing the upper part quadrangular, while in reality it is round. It is generally admitted to be the most ancient temple or edifice in Nepal, and, indeed, Colonel Kirkpatrick states, that it was built by Maun Deo, (Mana Deva,) who, according to him, was the sixty-first prince of the country, before the year of Christ 1323. Allowing ten years for each reign, this would place the building of the temple in the beginning of the eighth century, which, from its appearance, is fully as early a date as can be admitted.

The other hill is larger, but not so high, and is greatly celebrated among the followers of the Vedas. It is venerated as being the residence of Siva, under the name of Pasupatinath, and of his wife, under the name of Guhyiswari. The hill is covered with trees, and has a temple dedicated to each of the deities. These temples are frequented by great numbers of pilgrims, who, by visiting the holy place, expect to be ever afterwards secured from being born an animal lower than man. The hill, in a large part of its circumference, is washed by the Vagmati, which is there a holy river; and all the Hindus of Nepal wish to expire with their feet immersed in its stream, and are desirous, that after death they should be burned on its banks.

[Picture: View of Kathmandu and Lalita Patan from the West]

The two copperplate engravings, taken from drawings by Colonel Crawford, will give an idea of the scenery in the valley of Nepal. No. 1. represents the temple of Bouddhama in Kasacheit, the most favourite place of worship with the Khat Bhotiyas, or ancient inhabitants of the country. In the distant parts of the back ground are peaks of the Himaliya mountains rising through the clouds. No. 2 gives a distant view of Kathmandu towards the right, and Lalita Patan towards the left, with the temple of Jagannath between them, and in front of Lalita Patan, the Queen’s Garden, in which the British Embassy was lodged. The town of Kirtipur is seen on a hill behind Kathmandu.

In Nepal Proper, the Parbatiyas are not near so numerous as the Newars. The valley of Nepal seems to be exceedingly populous; but when the natives, as usual, talk of 18,000 houses in Kathmandu, 24,000 in Lalita Patan, and 12,000 in Bhatgang, they certainly grossly exaggerate. The persons of all ages and both sexes may in these towns amount to such numbers, and in Kathmandu may perhaps somewhat exceed this calculation. There are, besides, in this small valley several other considerable towns, such as Timmi, Kirtipur, Dewapatan, Sangghu, and Thankot.

Colonel Kirkpatrick observes, {209} that “we are altogether unfurnished with any documents that would warrant our hazarding even a conjecture on the number of people, the materials we possess for judging of the population of the valley of Nepaul itself being at the best extremely vague, and enabling us only to state it loosely at about half a million.” In p. 161, he reckons 48,000 or 50,000 people in Kathmandu, which seems to me considerably exaggerated.