Who has not heard of the Himalayas--those Titanic masses of mountains
that interpose themselves between the hot plains of India and the cold
table-lands of Thibet--a worthy barrier between the two greatest empires
in the world, the Mogul and the Celestial? The veriest tyro in
geography can tell you that they are the tallest mountains on the
surface of the earth; that their summits--a half-dozen of them at
least--surmount the sea-level by more than five miles of perpendicular
height; that more than thirty of them rise above twenty thousand feet,
and carry upon their tops the eternal snow!
The more skilled geographer, or _geognosist_, could communicate hundreds
of other interesting facts in relation to these majestic mountains; vast
volumes might be filled with most attractive details of them--their
_fauna_, their _sylva_, and their _flora_. But here, my reader, we have
only space to speak of a few of the more salient points, that may enable
you to form some idea of the Titanic grandeur of these mighty masses of
snow-crowned rock, which, towering aloft, frown or smile, as the case
may be, on our grand empire of Ind.
It is the language of writers to call the Himalayas a "chain of
mountains." Spanish geographers would call them a "sierra" (saw)--a
phrase which they have applied to the Andes of America. Either term is
inappropriate, when speaking of the Himalayas: for the vast tract
occupied by these mountains--over 200,000 square miles, or three times
the size of Great Britain--in shape bears no resemblance to a chain.
Its length is only six or seven times greater than its breadth--the
former being about a thousand miles, while the latter in many places
extends through two degrees of the earth's latitude.
Moreover, from the western termination of the Himalayas, in the country
of Cabul, to their eastern declension near the banks of the
Burrampooter, there is no continuity that would entitle them to the
appellation of a "chain of mountains." Between these two points they
are cut transversely--and in many places--by stupendous valleys, that
form the channels of great rivers, which, instead of running east and
west, as the mountains themselves were supposed to trend, have their
courses in the transverse direction--often flowing due north or south.
It is true that, to a traveller approaching the Himalayas from any part
of the great plain of India, these mountains present the appearance of a
single range, stretching continuously along the horizon from east to
west. This, however, is a mere optical illusion; and, instead of one
range, the Himalayas may be regarded as a _congeries_ of mountain
ridges, covering a superficies of 200,000 square miles, and running in
as many different directions as there are points in the compass.
Within the circumference of this vast mountain tract there is great
variety of climate, soil, and productions. Among the lower hills--those
contiguous to the plains of India--as well as in some of the more
profound valleys of the interior--the flora is of a tropical or
subtropical character. The palm, the tree fern, and bamboo here
flourish in free luxuriance. Higher up appears the vegetation of the
temperate zone, represented by forests of gigantic oaks of various
species, by sycamores, pines, walnut, and chestnut trees. Still higher
are the rhododendrons, the birches, and heaths; succeeded by a region of
herbaceous vegetation--by slopes, and even table-plains, covered with
rich grasses. Stretching onward and upward to the line of the eternal
snow, there are encountered the _Cryptogamia_--the lichens and mosses of
Alpine growth--just as they are found within the limits of the polar
circle; so that the traveller, who passes from the plains of India
towards the high ridges of the Himalayas, or who climbs out of one of
the deeper valleys up to some snow-clad summit that surmounts it, may
experience within a journey of a few hours' duration every degree of
climate, and observe a representative of every species of vegetation
known upon the face of the earth!
The Himalayas are not uninhabited. On the contrary, one considerable
kingdom (Nepaul), with many petty states and communities (as Bhotan,
Sikhim, Gurwhal, Kumaon, and the famed Cashmere), are found within their
boundaries--some enjoying a sort of political independence, but most of
them living under the protection either of the Anglo-Indian empire, on
the one side, or that of China upon the other. The inhabitants of these
several states are of mixed races, and very different from the people of
Hindostan. Towards the east--in Bhotan and Sikhim--they are chiefly of
the Mongolian stock, in customs and manners resembling the people of
Thibet, and, like them, practising the religion of the Lamas. In the
western Himalayas there is an admixture of Ghoorka mountaineers, Hindoos
from the south, Sikhs from Lahore, and Mahometans from the old empire of
the Moguls; and here, also, are to be found, in full profession, the
three great representative religions of Asia--Mahometan, Buddhist, and
Brahmin.
The population, however, is exceedingly small compared with the surface
over which it is distributed; and there are many tracts in the Himalayan
hills, thousands of square miles in extent, where no human being
dwells--where no chimney sends up its smoke. Indeed, there are vast
tracts, especially among the high snow-covered summits, that have either
never been explored, or only very rarely, by the adventurous hunter.
Others there are quite inaccessible; and it is needless to say, that the
highest peaks--such as Chumulari, Kinchinjunga, Donkia, Dawalghisi, and
the like--are far beyond the reach of even the most daring climber.
Perhaps no one has ever ascended to the height of five miles above the
level of the sea; and it is a question whether at that elevation a human
being could exist. At such a height it is probable that animal life
would become extinct, by reason either of the extreme cold or the rarity
of the atmosphere.
Though the Himalaya mountains have been known from the earliest historic
times--for they are the _Imaus_ and _Emodus_ of the ancient writers--it
is only within the present century that we in Europe have obtained any
definite knowledge of them. The Portuguese and Dutch--the first
European colonists of India--have told us very little about them; and
even our own Anglo-Indian writers were long silent upon this interesting
theme. Exaggerated accounts of the hostility and cruelty of the
Himalayan highlanders--more especially the Ghoorkas--prevented private
explorations; and with the exception of some half-dozen books, most of
them referring to the western section of the Himalayas, and
comparatively valueless, from the want of scientific knowledge on the
part of their authors, this vast tract has remained almost a _terra
incognita_ up to the present time.
Of late, however, we have obtained a better acquaintance with this
interesting portion of the earth's surface. The botanist, lured thither
by its magnificent _flora_, has opened to us a new world of vegetation.
Royle and Hooker have ably achieved this task. The zoologist, equally
attracted by its varied _fauna_, has made us acquainted with new forms
of animal life. Hodgson and Wallich are the historians in this
department. Scarcely less are we indebted to the sportsman and hunter--
to Markham, Dunlop, and Wilson the "mountaineer."
But in addition to these names, that have become famous through the
published reports of their explorations, there are others that still
remain unrecorded. The _plant-hunter_--the humble but useful
commissioner of the enterprising nurseryman--has found his way into the
Himalayas; has penetrated their most remote gorges; has climbed their
steepest declivities; and wandered along the limit of their eternal
snow. In search of new forms of leaf and flower, he has forded the
turbid stream, braved the roaring torrent, dared the dangerous
avalanche, and crossed the dread crevasse of the glistening glacier; and
though no printed book may record his adventurous experience, not the
less has he contributed to our knowledge of this great mountain world.
His lessons may be read on the parterre, in the flowers of the purple
magnolia, the deodar, the rhododendron. They may be found in the
greenhouse, in the eccentric blossoms of the orchis, and curious form of
the screw-pine--in the garden, in many a valuable root and fruit,
destined ere long to become favourites of the dessert-table. It is ours
to chronicle the story of an humble expedition of this kind--the
adventures of a young plant-hunter, the _employe_ of an enterprising
"seedsman" well-known in the world's metropolis.