Picturesque Nepal/Chapter 5

by Percy Brown

Colour Painting, signed Muriel Brown, of the main street of Katmandu, with a square, three-tiered building at the far end.

THE MAIN STREET KATMANDU. (p. 62).

CHAPTER V

THE CITIES OF THE VALLEY

Katmandu—Legendary Plan—History—The Durbar—Bhim Sen's Tower—Bhatgaon—The Durbar Square—The Golden Gate—Nyatpola Deval or the Temple of the Five Stages—The Taumari Tol—Patau—Its Decay—The Durbar Square—Principal Buildings of Patau—Kirtipur.

The three main cities of Nepal are Katmandu, Bhatgaon, and Patan, all situated in the valley, and each within a few miles of one another. When the country consisted of several principalities, each of these was a capital in itself, self-governed and self-contained, but since the Gurkha conquest in 1767 Katmandu has been retained as the seat of the present Government of the State. Owing to this turn of events, the two ancient cities of Bhatgaon and Patan have fallen gradually into partial decay, but all these capitals, whether ancient or modern, are picturesque in the extreme, and full of artistic relics of a bygone age.

The immediate outskirts of Katmandu are somewhat dull and unimpressive, as this city is approached through long roads bounded by high walls—the confines of estates surrounding the palaces of various princes—but the monotony of this acts as a foil to the interesting character of the streets within. As one turns into the chief bazaar, it is soon realized that there is only one word to describe the city of Katmandu, and that is "picturesque." It is hardly artistic, as the best art and architecture are to be found at Bhatgaon and Patau, nor are its buildings, with one or two exceptions, anciently interesting, but on account of being the living capital of Nepal and bustling with brightly garbed people on business intent, it has an air and vitality of its own, which distinguishes it from its two sister cities of the past. An impressionistic picture of Katmandu is a medley of tumbled wood-carving—here and there painted in crude colours, mellowed by time into harmonious effects,—brass grotesques sprawling over uneven pavements, quaint overshadowing roofs surmounting rich red brickwork walls, and ever and about a moving variegated crowd, the whole combination in its confusion of decoration, buildings, and people presenting a scene of unrivalled Orientalism—a piece of the medieval east itself. But a closer investigation indicates that this is but a screen to still more wonderful effects which lie behind these picturesque bazaars. For here and there, through carved and corrugated old archways, are glimpses of courtyards and shrines, containing idols smeared with vermilion and ghee, festooned with flowers, and framed with burnished brass ornament which rambles and riots over the temple fronts—"this way and that in many a wild festoon"—delightful conglomerations of bright colour, rich shadows, flickering sunlight, religious devotion and unmitigated dirt, the last not the least striking of them all.

The graphic imagination of the Newar has enabled him to see in the plan of each of these cities a religious symbol; Bhatgaon is said to resemble the conch or shell of Vishnu Narayan, Patan being a round compact city is likened to the wheel or chakra of Buddha, while Katmandu is recorded to have been built in the shape of the sword of its great founder, Manjusri. There is also a Hindu legend that this was the scimitar which Devi carried in one of her many hands. The handle or blunt extremity of this traditionary weapon lies to the south, towards the confluence of the Baghmatti and Vishnumatti Rivers, while its apex points to the north, and terminates in the suburb of Timmale, which stretches round or rests upon it, according to the Buddhists, as the chhattra of cloth does upon the point of Manjusri's sword. The greatest length of the city of Katmandu from north to south is about a mile, and its breadth varies from one-fourth to one-third of a mile. The present population is 40,000 souls. Originally each city was surrounded by a wall, but these defences, being allowed to fall into decay, have almost entirely disappeared, together with many of the large gateways. The general plan of a Nepalese city consists of a number of features which custom has made common to

Black and white photograph of a door, surmounted by an ornamental lintel and flanked by statues on either side. The wall features two windows high above with an ornate balcony.

Entrance to the durbar at Pataon.

The projections at the sides of windows and doors are a characteristic feature of Newar architecture.

all the large towns of the State. In the centre is a large irregularly shaped public square, on one side of which is the royal palace or "durbar." The remaining sides of this open space are occupied with temples and shrines sacred to the locality. Irregularly distributed around the durbar square are various smaller squares (tols), containing less important buildings, and connected with one another, and also with the main square, by streets and lanes, while compassing the whole city was a wall pierced by several gateways.

History states that Katmandu was founded in 724 A.D., and near the durbar square is an ancient wooden building, from which the city is said to take its name. Externally it is a somewhat ramshackle erection, and the inside is dark and mysterious—"no light but rather a transpicuous gloom." It is used as a house of accommodation for travelling devotees, and was built in 1596 A.D. by the Raja Lachminna Sing Mai. The Newars still allude to this building as Katmandu, the legend being that the whole of it was constructed from the wood of one monster tree, hence the name, kath being "wood," and mandu "edifice, house, or temple." Thus has been evolved its modern designation, but originally this city was called Manju Pattan after its founder, Manjusri.

The most attractive building in Katmandu is the durbar palace, the stately pagoda roofs of which rise high above the walls and subsidiary edifices with which it is surrounded. In design it is a confused labyrinth of quadrangles, passages, and chambers—"a mighty maze without a plan," and consists of a collection of forty or fifty courts of different sizes, each having a separate name. Oldfield remarks that these courts "communicate one with another by small doorways only, which can easily be secured, so that, in case of danger or disturbance, by closing them the inmates of the palace may shut themselves into the different parts of the building, and defend themselves with ease against a large number of assailants."

Close to this palace on the north is the royal temple of Taleju, the most notable of the temples and pagodas in the durbar square, and devoted entirely to the use of royalty. The goddess Taleju, or Tulaja devi, is the protectress of the ruling family of Nepal, and it is related that Prithi Narain, the Gurkha conqueror of Katmandu, having offered a human sacrifice in this temple, was visited in a dream by this deity, who expressed her displeasure at the act.

Towards the centre of the city there arises, far above all other buildings, a stone tower or column, the most striking, but probably least interesting erection in Katmandu. It is about 200 feet high, and is a notable landmark from all parts of the valley. Built by the Gurkha General Bhim Sen, it was not raised for any particular purpose but merely as a freak, and has since been called Bhim Sen's folly. A legend, repeated with great solemnity with regard to this building, maintains that Jung Bahadur, the great hero of all the Gurkhas, for a wager jumped his horse from the top of the column to the pavement below, the animal being killed, but the reckless rider escaping unhurt. The true account of this act—for the tradition is based on an actual episode—states that during the course of construction of this tower, and while it was far from reaching its present height, Jung out of bravado offered to jump with his horse from the unfinished top of the building to the ground. This he accomplished, but how much of the tower was really built at the time of this performance is left to the imagination of the breathless listener. Prosaic westerners have also recorded the fact that the pavement was heaped high with straw and similar materials, being specially prepared for the occasion, but the loyal Nepali still clings to the simple story that Jung, mounted on his charger, leapt from top to bottom, and his faith in this version remains unshaken.

About seven miles south-east of Katmandu is the city of Bhatgaon, one of the old Newar capitals of Nepal. From the distant hills it lies like a ruddy brown patch among the green rice fields, and from a height it is not difficult to trace a rough similarity in its general plan to the legendary conch-shell of Vishnu, which it is supposed to resemble.

The approach to Bhatgaon is like that of most Oriental cities, through dirty suburbs of sordid streets and mean dwellings, with here and there a lattice window, carved doorway, or quaint hanging lamp, holding out a promise of better things. At a cross street a shrine comes into view, with crimson draperies, bright brass entrance, glittering metal pinnacle, painted woodwork, brackets of caryatid deities bristling with arms, and a large bronze bell supported by rampant dragons. This is the first introduction to the real Bhatgaon, the ancient seat of the Newar kings. From this one passes through winding streets of old wood and brick houses, each dwelling displaying some different form of ornate carving in window or doorway, and each placed at an apparently fortuitous angle. Gradually the buildings become larger and more important, and the decoration more profuse as the centre of the city is reached. Then a whole street of overhanging balconies and wooden colonnades comes into view, with doorways crowned by heavily carved tympanums of deities and devils, and lattice windows with peacocks cunningly carved posing in the centres, until we suddenly debouch into the durbar square and are confronted with the culminating effect of the combined arts of the Newars, probably the most entrancingly picturesque city scene in Nepal. Around a rambling open space of flagged pavement, temples are irregularly grouped, most of them on terraced plinths, their pagoda roofs of red tiles and golden finials climbing into the blue sky. Some of these are approached by steep flights of steps, flanked by stone statues of humans in elaborate costumes, elephants, horses, and rhinos, gaily caparisoned and heavily chained to their pedestals, and monstrous fauna of the nether world. Truly the architect of these buildings felt that his creations were so fantastic that they did

⁠"need the guard
Of dragon-watch with unenchanted eye."

Other edifices forming part of this scene are covered with a confusion of wood-carving picked out with colours or scintillating with brass incrustations. On a solid platform towards the centre of the square is a colossal bell, and overlooking this, on a high stone column surmounted by an immense lotus, kneels a magnificent metal effigy of Raja Bhupatindra Mall, the greatest of the rulers of Bhatgaon. One of the finest conceptions of the Newar artist was that of erecting on a single column in front of the building, with which his name was principally associated, a statue in metal of the founder or benefactor posed in a solemn and dignified attitude, usually kneeling and with hands together as in prayer. Sometimes grouped around this individual, but all on the same pedestal, are placed smaller statues of his children, the whole being surmounted by a metal umbrella or a canopy of snakes. Many of these are to be seen in the city squares of Nepal, and probably one of the most beautiful and imposing is this of Raja Bhupatindra Mall. Crowning the graceful lotus pillar, the burnished gold figure looks down gravely on the finest building of his reign, the Durbar Hall of Bhatgaon. Immediately in front of the statue is the entrance to this edifice, a doorway of brick and embossed copper gilt, the richest piece of art work in the whole kingdom, and placed like a jewel flashing innumerable facets in the handsome setting of its surroundings. To adequately describe this feature, either from its artistic or religious aspects, is an impossibility, and no reproduction can give any idea of its gorgeous effect, owing to the brilliancy of the material in which it is executed. In the bright sunlight of the country, the burnished figures take on an added power, and by their great projection, reaching out from the composition, seem to sear themselves into the imagination. The crawling lizard of gilded bronze on the moulding palpitates like a living thing in the heat, and the many arms of the great god in the trefoil tympanum are full of a movement and action which seem real. But apart from this view of its magnificence, the religious meaning in the whole conception is stupendous. Complete volumes of Hindu and Buddhist thought are embodied in its design, and the meanest member of either of these faiths is able to read in almost any part of it some simple story that he can understand, or extract therefrom some attractive allegory which may stimulate his mind. The artist, whether of the east or west, who has

Black and white photograph of a large gate, which includes a smaller, partially open entrance way in the centre. The gate features a surface decoration of regular hemispheres. It is set between ornately carved pillars with an even more ornate lintel above. The sloped roof and the building can be seen at the top of the photograph.

THE GOLDEN GATE OF THE DURBAR HALL AT BHATGAON.—Page 72.

achieved this has not lived in vain, and the artificer of this wonderful doorway has proved in this great work that he was not only a past-master of his craft, but a high priest of his cult. There are many other beautiful and absorbing features on the various buildings in the durbar square of Bhatgaon, but this "Door of Gold"—molten, graven, hammered, and roll'd——forces these into comparative insignificance by its depth of meaning, richness of design, wealth of material, and the excellence of its workmanship. As a specimen of man's handicraft it creates a standard whereby may be measured the intellect, artistic and religious, of the old Newars.

Near the durbar hall, but in an adjacent square, is another very fine building, also the work of Raja Bhupatindra Mall. It is called the Nyatpola Deval, or the Temple of the Five Stages, and stands on five terraces penetrated by a fine flight of steps. Colossal figures, carved in stone, and picked out with brilliant colours, are on each side of this stairway, the lowest pair being statues of two historic giants—the Gog and Magog of the Newars—really, two wrestlers in the service of the king, Jaya Mall and Phatta, and reported to have had the strength of ten ordinary men. Above these are two elephants with ten times the power of the foregoing, and on a stage higher in the same muscular proportion two lions, similarly two griffins, and at the top two deities, Singhini and Vyaghini, reputed the most powerful of all. Locally this temple is designated the "Bhairon," as, owing to these monstrous creatures occupying the most prominent position in its design, they are thought to be "Bhairavas" or "the Terribles." These are divinities of a secondary order in the Pantheon of the Newars, and are supposed to be the great enemies of the demons of evil, whom they trample under foot. In a sense they are the equivalents of St. George or St. Michael of Christendom. The temple itself, an ornate and imposing building erected on the uppermost of these stages, was originally intended to be a shrine for the occupation of a secret Tantric divinity, but at the present day it appears to be unoccupied. It is recorded that at the time of the founding of this building in 1700 A.D., as an example to his subjects the king himself brought three bricks towards its erection, and this act so stimulated the citizens of Bhatgaon that in five days the whole of the materials for its construction were forthcoming.

On the opposite side of this square, which is called the Taumari Tol, is a very richly decorated temple, dedicated to Bhavani, having a shrine at the front guarded by two magnificent metal dragons of ferocious mien, and rendered more fierce by being touched up with vermilion. Great plates of brass, embossed with bold patterns centring around religious symbols, cover the brickwork, and on a lotus pillar on each side of the façade a gilt lion rampant supports a double flaming banner, the burnished gold of which flashes in the sunlight. Running around this building are fantastic mouldings, from which depend borders of strange beasts' heads, all picked out in the most gaudy colours, while the lattice windows instead of being made of wood are formed of strips of metal gilt. The shrine itself, or at least the visible portion of it, which occupies the place of the door to the temple, is a conglomeration of metal work, but so obscured with thick grease, applied in the form of offerings by devotees, as to be almost indistinguishable. Children sprawl about its pedestal, and one small imp sits triumphantly astride one of the great dragons, whose expression almost seems to enter grimly into the humour of the situation. A pretty girl in brightly coloured robes, with marigolds in her hair, approaches the shrine carrying a brass tray with offerings. She scatters a few grains of rice on the thickly daubed door, touches her forehead, joins her hands together for one moment, and then, with a rapt expression on her face, moves away. One of the smallest of the children clinging to the dragon, falls, and commences to cry. She comforts it by giving it a flower from her hair. A grey hen with several chicks fusses into the shrine, and speedily pecks up the offering of rice.

Of these cities of the valley, Patau is the one which principally proclaims the melancholy

Colour painting of a beggar sitting in front of a golden statue of a lion on a plinth. There is a small child standing behind the beggar. Off to one side, a woman is ringing a large bell suspended from a rectangular arch.

Entrance to the Bhavani Temple at Bhatgaon.(p. 75).

fact that its "glory has departed." There is much that is left in the squares and streets of this ancient capital which still preserves its original beauty, but at the same time it carries the air of a city whose prosperity is a thing of the past. Situated about two miles to the south-east of Katmandu, in size it is still the largest of the towns of Nepal, but is only a ghost of its former self when it was a wealthy, powerful, and important place, the residence of one of the Newar kings. For now Patan "sleeps in the dust," and although boasting of 20,000 inhabitants, there is none of the bustle, activity, and opulence which are visible throughout Katmandu and Bhatgaon. It is "a city of conquered Newars and vanquished Buddhism." In 1768 Patan surrendered to the Gurkhas, and like Babylon

⁠"set wide her two-leav'd brass
To let the military deluge pass,"

and the city was given up to plunder. History relates that this was accompanied by great barbarities, the nobility and principal families being put to the sword, while the unfortunate population, "being mostly Buddhists, received but little mercy at the hands of their Hindu conquerors. The royal palace was dismantled; the dwellings of the wealthy citizens were robbed of everything valuable that they contained, and even the temples were not spared." And Patan has never recovered from this dreadful blow, which still appears imprinted on the visages of its people as on the façades of its buildings. Time also has assisted in this ruin, and laid its hand heavily on much of the architecture of this city, so that deserted shrines, broken archways, mutilated sculptures, and relics overgrown by rank vegetation greet the eye at every turn. Hodgson himself states that "it is often requisite to walk heedfully over the classic fields of the valley of Nepal, lest perchance you break your shins against an image of a Buddha." But the great central square with its public buildings and temples still bravely stands, and endeavours to give the lie to those who maintain that she is utterly cast down. Sylvain Levi's recent observations on this portion of Patan are graphic and interesting: "La place du darbar est une merveille qui défie la description; sous la vive clarté d'un ciel qui n'éblouit pas, le palais royal étale sa façade ouvragée, sculptée, bariolée à plaisir, où les ors, les bleus, les rouges éclairent le ton sombre des boiseries; vis-à-vis, comme enfanté par un caprice d'artiste, un monde de pierre rayonnant de blancheur, piliers que couronnent des images de bronze, colonnades ajourées temples de rêves, légers et frêles, sous la garde d'une armée de chimêres et de griffons."

Seen from any point of view this aspect of Patan is most picturesque, and when it is realized that the background to this scene is bold mountains and snowclad peaks, the beauty of the tout ensemble can be imagined. From this central square narrow alleys radiate in all directions, and these lead to shrines, temples, and pagodas in endless succession. In the narrowest of lanes some of the most remarkable buildings are to be found, one temple standing in a particularly unsavoury gully, attracting attention on account of being plated from pavement to pinnacle with sheets of embossed copper gilt. Near this, and almost blocking up the passage, is a shrine to Ganesh, with the attributes of this popular divinity in the shape of two colossal bronze rats crouching on pedestals in front. Many of these religious edifices are entered from mean and dirty thoroughfares, through gloomy portals leading into great courtyards, which are museums of artistic and religious symbolism in every conceivable material. Massive metal "overdoors" are clamped above the entrance of every shrine, with the divinity to whom the building is dedicated spiritedly embossed in the centre. Above this figure, and protecting it with outstretched wings, is usually a fearsome garuda, part bird, part human, part beast, while projecting from each side is a makara, that mythical monster—seen in all Oriental art from Java to Kashmir—fulminating great gouts of foliage from his nostrils, which disseminates itself into a rippling background to the whole design. Metal lions, garudas, peacocks, elephants, and fishes occupy commanding positions on carved stone pillars, and huge bronze lotus thrones (dharm-dhātu-mandal) act as pedestals to those weighty

Black and white photograph of the corner of a building. The second or third storey, half way up the wall, features a set of three windows projected out from the wall and covered by grilles. Other windows are not projected, some open and some with grilles.

AN ORIEL WINDOW IN BHATGAON.

decorative emblems known as the "Thunderbolts of Indra." Every shrine is doubly, and often trebly, guarded by pairs of grotesque beasts, whose appearance suggests that they resemble more the advanced outposts of the infernal regions rather than defenders of a sanctuary.

A city of the name of Kirtipur, situated some three miles to the north of Katmandu, contains also much that is interesting, and many records of the old order that has now changed. Its history is one of the most gruesome in the annals of the State, and is contained in the one word—the name which it was condemned to bear by its ruthless conquerors—Naskatpur, or "the City of the Cut Noses." Owing to its almost impregnable position on the crest of a hill between two and three hundred feet above the level of the surrounding plain, and also to the bravery of its citizens, it made a gallant resistance against the Gurkha invaders in 1765, but was eventually betrayed into the hands of the enemy. In one of the engagements, Surpratap Sah, a brother of the Gurkha leader, Prithi Narain, lost one of his eyes, and this, together with the protracted nature of the siege, so enraged the conqueror that he ordered the noses and lips of every male in the town, above twelve years of age, to be cut off; those only being spared who could play on wind instruments, and who therefore might be of use as musicians in the army of the victor. In connection with this episode an indigenous history, with an eye to picturesque facts, adds that "these noses weighed seventeen dharnis (about 80 lb.), and the people thus mutilated were 865."

Needless to relate that Kirtipur never recovered from this conquest, and now is little better than a collection of ruins, inhabited by only 4000 souls. But what remains indicates that this city boasted of many fine buildings embellished with the characteristic art of the Newars. The durbar is much damaged, but the principal temple is in a good state, and is unique, inasmuch as it is dedicated to Bagh Bhairab—Bhairava as a tiger—the shrine containing an effigy of this animal, which is here regarded as very sacred. Grouped about are many other edifices, carved with religious symbols and approached by rows of monsters and divinities, but Kirtipur hardly compares with the other cities of the valley in the extent of its artistic and architectural remains.