Part 16
From Dhunchi there is a road to Kerung, one day’s journey north. This has lately been ceded to the Chinese by the governors of Nepal.
Considerable illustrations of this route up the Trisulgangga, by Nayakot to Nilkantha, and Kerung, {195} may be found in the 5th Chapter of Kirkpatrick’s Account of Nepaul, page 107, etc.
I have already given an account of the Newars, and of the mineral productions of the valley of Nepal, and now proceed to treat of some other circumstances, relating partly to the former, and partly to the present state of things, when Nepal has become the seat of a foreign government; although by this arrangement, I must here detail much of what I have to state concerning the family which now reigns, and to which I must afterwards return.
The following is the route to Kathmandu, by which I went to that city, and which is the one most frequented by merchants from the low country, especially by those trading to Patna, which is the principal mart for this commerce.
From the Company’s boundary near the Bera river are about ten miles to Gar Pasara, over an open plain, little of which is cultivated. An old fort, and many plantations of Mango trees, show that formerly it has been in a better state. We crossed the Bera, and passed some way along the banks of another river. Even in the end of March, these rivers are full of water, and contain no large banks of sand, as is usual in India. With industry, they might be applied most advantageously to irrigate the fields. The water is dirty, and owing to the quantity of rotten vegetable matter which it brings from the forest, and which at this season is little diluted, it is reckoned very unwholesome. Gar Pasara is a small village with a large tank. Near it is a brick house built by Singha Pratap, the present Raja of Gorkha’s grandfather, who in the cold season sometimes resided in the Tariyani, on the improvement of which he bestowed considerable attention.
From Gar Pasara to Bichhakor is about fourteen miles. The three first miles are clear, the remainder passes through a stately forest, with little or no underwood, but some long grass and reeds. For seven miles the ground in the forest is nearly level, and a very little trouble would make the road fit for carts. The remaining road passes along the lower part of some small hills, which are rather stony, and it crosses the rough and wide channels of some torrents, which in the cold season are perfectly dry; yet a small labour would render the whole way from Gar Pasara to Bichhakor passable for carts. At present it is perfectly good for laden cattle. There is no water by the way. Bichhakor contains about a dozen huts, and affords no supplies except wood and water, of which last there is a very fine spring, and several small streams in a very wide stony channel, the only clear place in the vicinity.
Bichhakor derives its name from the place abounding in scorpions. There is no cultivation near it, and the only inhabitants are a few Parbatiyas, or mountain Hindus. They reside at the place to collect some duties, and for the accommodation of travellers, and by long habit have become inured to the climate, and enabled to resist its baneful influence, which, from the end of March, till the beginning of December, is exceedingly destructive to all strangers. The temperature of the air at Bichhakor is sensibly cooler than at Gar Pasara, and we found the heat of the spring to be 74° Fahrenheit’s thermometer, which may be considered as the average heat of the place.
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.