Source:http://ecs.com.np/archive/mar_08/article_3.htm
To the Memory of...
Kathmandu’s British Cemetery
By Don Messerschmidt
Not only did we want to see this quiet garden with its grey tombstones and
scarlet poinsettias, but we also sought a glimpse of history available through
the names and dates of some who lie buried here. To visit the site we first
sought permission from British Embassy staff who guided us along the narrow
lane behind the Embassy in Lainchaur and down the hill to the edge of
Samakhosi. On the north side of the road we came to a gated archway with a
simple sign: ‘British Embassy, Founded 1816’ (in English and Nepali). The site
is called ‘Kapur Dhara’, which literally translated means ‘camphor waterspout’.
More likely, however, the name is a corruption of kapardar, an old Nepali word
for ‘cemetery’. To passers by the site is known colloquially as the Belaiti
chihan, the ‘British graveyard’, but many who pass this way each day probably
have no idea what, or who, lies within.
Each society has its own way of putting its dead ‘to sleep’, so to speak. Some
cremate, others bury, and some turn the bodies over to vultures to dispose.
Unless a body is buried with a headstone, or a memorial plaque is installed
somewhere to remember the deceased, it is difficult to learn much history from
the disposal of the dead. European and American societies, however, have
cemeteries dedicated to the eternal sleep of the dead by interment, with
engraved headstones to remind visitors who’s who, resting underfoot. The notion
of ‘sleep’ is a common euphemism for the final rest of the deceased and
‘cemetery’ ultimately means just that. It is derived from Middle English
cimitery, with origins traceable back through French and Latin to Greek
koimeterion, or ‘dormitory’, from koiman, ‘put to sleep’.
Apparently, it was early Greek Christians who first applied the term to a
burial ground. The notion of a cemetery as a ‘dormitory’ harks back to an
obsolete meaning of that word as ‘a place for repose of the dead’, from Latin
dormire, meaning ‘to lie dormant’ or ‘sleep’. (I wonder how many college and
university students who reside in ‘dormitories’ know this archaic meaning of
the term—as a place for the dead.)
In recent years, the study of cemeteries has become popular among school
children in the West, and by historians and anthropologists around the world,
all seeking a glimpse into a community’s past. In
Long before a proper embassy, a British Residence was established in
Our first impression upon entering the cemetery gate was of peacefulness in the
midst of the cacophony and commotion of the surrounding neighborhood. Just
outside the gate cars and motorcycles roar by, taxis queue for passengers and
farmers sell produce on the street side. Once we were inside the cemetery gate,
however, Samakhosi seemed far away.
We were aware of several recent burials, from the late 20th century, but were
curious at first about those from the preceding century. We commented on the
fact that several of the graves are for children of early British Residence
staff. One from the early 1800s reads: “Sacred to the memory of Alice Mary
youngest daughter of Captain William Boyd Irwin.” Alice Mary’s tombstone says
that she died 13 days after birth. Life in
Daniel Wright served as the Residence Surgeon, or chief medical officer, for
ten years, 1866 to 1876. He, like others posted to the isolation of
Other early Residence personnel also interred in the cemetery include F.G.F.
Deatker of the Indian Medical Department who died age 51 in 1842, and Hastings
Young of the 63rd Regiment, Bengal Native Infantry, who briefly served as
Assistant Resident. We know nothing more about young
The oldest inscription in the cemetery is that of “Robert Stuart, Esq.”, son of
one Sir John Stuart. Robert served as Assistant to the first British Resident
“At the Court of the Raja of Nipaul”. He died and was buried in March 1820.
Since the cemetery was established in 1816, we assumed that there are graves
older than Robert Stuart’s. We searched and found one small monument on the
knoll that looked very old. It is so badly weathered, however, that no
inscription is discernible. Given its small size, it may also have been for a
child, perhaps the first to have been buried here.
We then turned away from the old gravestones and looked for those, more recent,
whose names and lives were more familiar to us. Here lies our old friend, the
Russian hotelier Boris Lissanevitch. Boris was born in
We knew him in those days, and enjoyed sitting around the Yak and Yeti
fireplace in winter, sipping drinks and listening to Boris, always the
raconteur, telling stories. Later he built the Yak and Yet Hotel in its present
location at Lal Durbar. Boris’ long and eventful life is described in his
biography, Tiger for Breakfast by Michel Peissel (1966). Somewhere along the
way, Boris took British citizenship, which made him eligible for interment in
the British cemetery. Beside him are the graves of his mother and the mother of
his second wife, Inger, who still lives in
Another of
One of the more interesting graves is that of Mike Cheney (1928-1988): “In
loving memory of Micheal John Cheney 10th Gurkha Rifles and Friend of Nepal.”
(Was his name really ‘Micheal’, or is that a misspelling of Michael on the
stone?) In the British Army he rose to the rank of Captain in an artillery
regiment. After retiring, ‘Mike’ stayed on in
Desmond Doig (1921-83) is also here. Born of Anglo-Irish parents in
Although a main requirement for interment in the British cemetery is British
citizenship, there are exceptions. Robert Rieffel (1913-2000) and his wife,
Cécile (1913-85), for example, were French citizens. The Rieffels first came to
expatriates of the past.
We closed the gate behind us when we went out, leaving the deceased to ‘Rest in
Peace’, knowing, full well, that there are many more stories to be told.