* * * * *
BOMBAY.
* * * * *
Contrast between landing at Bombay and at Calcutta--First feelings
those of disappointment--Aspect of the place improves--Scenery of the
Island magnificent, abounding with fine Landscapes--Luxuriance and
elegance of the Palms--Profusion and contrast of the Trees--Multitude
of large Houses in Gardens--Squalid, dirty appearance of the
Native Crowd--Costume of the Natives--Inferior to the Costume of
Bengal--Countenances not so handsome--The Drive to the Fort--The
Burrah Bazaar--Parsee Houses--"God-shops" of the Jains--General use
of Chairs amongst the Natives--Interior of the Native Houses--The
Sailors' Home--The Native Town--Improvements--The Streets animated
and picturesque--Number of Vehicles--The Native Females--The Parsee
Women--The Esplanade--Tents and Bungalows--The Fort--The China
Bazaar--A Native School--Visit to a Parsee Warehouse--Seal ornamental
China-ware--Apprehension of Fire in the Fort--Houses fired by
Rats--Illumination of Native Houses--Discordant noise of Native
Magic--The great variety of Religions in Bombay productive of
lamp-lighting and drumming.
The bunder, or pier, where passengers disembark upon their arrival in
Bombay, though well-built and convenient, offers a strong contrast
to the splendours of Chandpaul Ghaut in Calcutta; neither are the
bunder-boats at all equal in elegance to the budgerows, bohlias, and
other small craft, which we find upon the Hooghley. There is nothing
to indicate the wealth or the importance of the presidency to be
seen at a glance; the Scottish church, a white-washed building of no
pretensions, being the most striking object from the sea. Landward, a
range of handsome houses flank so dense a mass of buildings, occupying
the interior of the Fort, as to make the whole appear more like a
fortified town than a place of arms, as the name would denote. The
tower of the cathedral, rising in the centre, is the only feature in
the scene which boasts any architectural charm; and the Esplanade,
a wide plain, stretching from the ramparts to the sea, is totally
destitute of picturesque beauty.
The first feelings, therefore, are those of disappointment, and it
is not until the eye has been accustomed to the view, that it becomes
pleased with many of the details; the interest increasing with the
development of other and more agreeable features, either not seen at
all, or seen through an unfavourable medium. The aspect of the place
improved, as, after crossing the Esplanade or plain, the carriage
drove along roads cut through palm-tree woods, and at length, when I
reached my place of destination, I thought that I had never seen any
thing half so beautiful.
The apartments which, through the kindness of hospitable friends, I
called my own, commanded an infinite variety of the most magnificent
scenery imaginable. To the left, through a wide vista between two
hills, which seemed cleft for the purpose of admitting the view, lay
the placid waters of the ocean, land-locked, as it were, by the
bold bluff of distant islands, and dotted by a fairy fleet of
fishing-boats, with their white sails glittering in the sun. In front,
over a beautifully-planted fore-ground, I looked down upon a perfect
sea of palms, the taller palmyras lifting their proud heads above the
rest, and all so intermingled with other foliage, as to produce the
richest variety of hues. This fine wood, a spur of what may be termed
a forest further to the right, skirted a broad plain which stretched
out to the beach, the bright waters beyond expanding and melting
into the horizon, while to the right it was bounded by a hilly ridge
feathered with palm-trees, the whole bathed in sunshine, and forming
altogether a perfect Paradise.
Every period of the day, and every variation in the state of the
atmosphere, serve to bring out new beauties in this enchanting scene;
and the freshness and delicious balm of the morning, the gorgeous
splendour of mid-day, the crimson and amber pomps of evening, and the
pale moonlight, tipping every palm-tree top with silver, produce an
endless succession of magical effects. In walking about the garden and
grounds of this delightful residence, we are continually finding
some new point from which the view appears to be more beautiful than
before. Upon arriving at the verge of the cleft between the two hills,
we look down from a considerable elevation over rocky precipitous
ground, with a village (Mazagong) skirting the beach, while the
prospect, widening, shows the whole of the harbour, with the high
ghauts forming the back-ground.
Turning to the other side, behind the hill which shuts out the sea,
the landscape is of the richest description--roads winding through
thick plantations, houses peeping from embowering trees, and an
umbrageous forest beyond. The whole of Bombay abounds with landscapes
which, if not equal to that from Chintapooglee Hill, which I have,
vainly I fear, attempted to describe, boast beauties peculiarly their
own, the distinguishing feature being the palm-tree. It is impossible
to imagine the luxuriance and elegance of this truly regal family as
it grows in Bombay, each separate stage, from the first appearance
of the different species, tufting the earth with those stately crowns
which afterwards shoot up so grandly, being marked with beauty. The
variety of the foliage of the coco-nut, the brab, and others,
the manner of their growth, differing according to the different
directions taken, and the exquisite grouping which continually occurs,
prevent the monotony which their profusion might otherwise create,
the general effect being, under all circumstances, absolutely perfect.
Though the principal, the palm is far from being the only tree, and
while frequently forming whole groves, it is as frequently blended
with two species of cypress, the peepul, mango, banian, wild cinnamon,
and several others.
In addition to the splendour of its wood and water, Bombay is
embellished by fragments of dark rock, which force themselves through
the soil, roughening the sides of the hills, and giving beauty to
the precipitous heights and shelving beach. Though the island is
comparatively small, extensively cultivated and thickly inhabited,
it possesses its wild and solitary places, its rains deeply seated
in thick forests, and its lonely hills covered with rock, and thinly
wooded by the eternal palm-tree; hills which, in consequence of
the broken nature of the ground, and their cavernous recesses, are
difficult of access. It is in these fastnesses that the hyenas find
secure retreats, and the Parsees construct their "towers of silence."
There is little, or indeed nothing, in the scenery that comes under
the denomination of jungle, the island being intersected in every
part with excellent roads, macadamized with the stone that abounds
so conveniently for the purpose. These roads are sometimes skirted by
walls of dark stone, which harmonize well with the trees that
never fail to spread their shade above; at others, with beautiful
hedge-rows, while across the flats and along the Esplanade, a
water-course or a paling forms the enclosures.
The multitude of large houses, each situated in the midst of gardens
or ornamented grounds, gives a very cheerful appearance to the roads
of Bombay; but what the stranger on his first arrival in India is
said to be most struck with is, the number and beauty of the
native population. Probably, had I never seen Bengal, I might
have experienced similar delight and astonishment; but with the
recollections of Calcutta fresh in my mind, I felt disappointed.
Accustomed to multitudes of fine-looking well-dressed people, with
their ample and elegant drapery of spotless white muslin, I could not
help contrasting them with the squalid, dirty appearance of the
native crowd of Bombay. Nor is it so easy at first to distinguish the
varieties of the costume through the one grand characteristic of dirt;
nor, with the exception of the peculiar Parsee turban, which is very
ugly, the Persian cap, and the wild garb of the Arab, do they differ
so widely as I expected. For instance; the Hindus and Mohamedans are
not so easily recognized as in Bengal. The vest in ordinary wear,
instead of being fitted tightly to the figure, and having that
peculiarly elegant cut which renders it so graceful, seems nothing
more than a loose bed-gown, coarse in materials and tasteless in
shape: this forms the most common costume. The higher classes of
Parsees wear an ample and not unbecoming dress; the upper garment
of white cambric muslin fits tightly to the waist, where it is bound
round with a sash or cummurbund of white muslin; it then descends in
an exceedingly full skirt to the feet, covering a pair of handsome
silk trowsers. A Parsee group, thus attired, in despite of their mean
and unbecoming head-dress, make a good appearance.
The Arabs wear handkerchiefs or shawls, striped with red, yellow, and
blue, bound round their heads, or hanging in a fanciful manner over
their turbans. The Persian dress is grave and handsome, and there
are, besides, Nubians, Chinese, and many others; but the well-dressed
people must be looked for in the carriages, few of the same
description are to be seen on foot, which gives to a crowd in Bengal
so striking an appearance. In fact, a Bengallee may be recognized at
a glance by his superior costume, and in no place is the contrast more
remarkable than in the halls and entrances of Anglo-Indian houses. The
servants, if not in livery--and it is difficult to get them to
wear one, the dignity of caste interfering--are almost invariably
ill-dressed and slovenly in their appearance. We see none of the
beautifully plaited and unsullied white turbans; none of the fine
muslin dresses and well-folded cummurbunds; the garments being
coarse, dirty, scanty, and not put on to advantage. Neither are the
countenances so handsome or the forms so fine; for though a very
considerable degree of beauty is to be found of person and feature
amid many classes of Parsees, Jews, Hindus, and Mohamedans, it is not
so general as in Bengal, where the features are usually so finely cut,
and the eyes so splendid.
Nevertheless, although my admiration has never been so strongly
excited, and I was in the first instance greatly disappointed, every
time I go abroad I become more reconciled to this change, and more
gratified by the various objects which attract my attention; and there
are few things that please me more than a drive to the Fort.
It is very difficult, perhaps impossible, to convey any idea of
the lively scene which is presented in this excursion, or the great
variety of features which it embraces. Enclosures sprinkled over with
palm-trees, and filled with a herd of buffaloes, occur close to a
farm-house, which looks absolutely English; then we come to a
cluster of huts of the most miserable description, occupying some low
situation, placed absolutely on the ground, and scantily thatched with
palm branches; stately mansions now arise to view, and then there is
a row of small but apparently comfortable dwellings, habitations being
thickly scattered over fields and gardens, until we reach what has
been denominated the Black Town, but which is now generally known as
the Burrah Bazaar. This is now a broad street, and, without exception,
one of the most curious places I have ever beheld. It is said to have
been much improved during late administrations, and, forming the high
road to the Fort, is the avenue most frequented in the native town
by Europeans. The buildings on either side are very irregular, and of
various descriptions; some consist of ranges of small shops, with
a story above in a very dilapidated and tumble-down condition. Then
comes a row of large mansions of three floors, which look very much
like the toy baby-houses constructed for children in England, the
windows being so close together, and the interiors so public;
others intervene, larger, more solid, and irregular, but exceedingly
picturesque.
Most of the better kind of houses are ascended by a flight of
steps, which leads to a sort of verandah, formed by the floor above
projecting over it, and being supported by wooden pillars or other
frame-work in front. In the Parsee houses of this kind, there is
usually a niche in this lower portion for a lamp, which is kept always
burning. In some places, the houses are enclosed in courtyards, and
at others a range of dwellings, not very unlike the alms-houses in
England, are divided from the road by a low wall, placed a few yards
in the front, and entered at either end by gateways. These houses have
a very comfortable appearance, and the shading of a few palm-trees
completes a rather pretty picture. There are two mosques, one on
either side of this street, which are handsomely constructed, and
would be great embellishments to the scene, were they not so painfully
whiter-washed.
A peculiar class of Hindus, the Jains, have also what have not been
inappropriately termed "god-shops," for they certainly have not the
slightest appearance of temples. These pagodas, if they may be so
styled, are nothing more than large houses, of three floors, with
balconies running in front, the heavy wooden frame-work that supports
them being painted a dark dingy red, and the walk adorned with
representations of deities, executed in a variety of colours, and of
the most nondescript character. The interiors appear to be decorated
in the same manner, as they are seen through the open windows and by
the light of many lamps suspended from the ceilings. The ringing
of bells, and the full attendance of priests and worshippers of an
evening, show the purpose to which these houses are dedicated, and
superstition is here exhibited in its most revolting aspect, for there
is no illusion to cheat the fancy--no beautiful sequestered pagoda,
with its shadowing trees and flower-strewed courts, to excite poetical
ideas--all being coarse, vulgar, and contemptible.
Great numbers of artizans are to be seen at work in their respective
shops in this bazaar, copper-smiths particularly, who seem an
industrious race, toiling by lamp-light long after the day has
completely closed. There are also _caravanserais_ and _cafés_, where
the country and religion of the owner may be known by the guests
congregated about his gate. Groups of Persians are seen seated on the
outside smoking; the beautiful cats, which they have brought down
for sale, sporting at their feet. A few yards farther on, the Arab
horse-dealers, in front of their stables, are equally conspicuous, and
it is easy to perceive, by the eager glances with which some of these
men survey the English carriages bearing fair freights of ladies
along, that they have never visited an European settlement before.
My former visit to India enabling me to observe the differences
between two of our presidencies, I was particularly struck, on my
arrival at Bombay, with the general use of chairs among the natives;
none but the very meanest description of houses seem to be entirely
destitute of an article of furniture scarcely known in the native
habitations of Bengal; and these seats seem to be preferred to
the more primitive method of squatting on the ground, which
still prevails, the number of chairs in each mansion being rather
circumscribed, excepting in the best houses, where they abound. Sofas
and divans, though seen, are not so common as in Egypt, and perhaps
the divan, properly speaking, is not very usual.
The cheapness of oil, and in all probability the example shown by the
Parsees, render lamps very abundant. The common kind of hall-lamp of
England, of different sizes and different colours, is the prevailing
article; these are supplied with a tumbler half-filled with water,
having a layer of oil upon the top, and two cotton-wicks. As I lose
no opportunity whatever of looking into the interiors of the native
houses, I have been often surprised to see one of these lamps
suspended in a very mean apartment of a cottage, boasting few other
articles of furniture, which, nevertheless, in consequence of its
cleanliness, and the excellence of the light afforded, possessed
an air of comfort. In fact, many of the houses, whose exteriors are
anything but promising, are very well fitted up in the inside; many
of the apartments are panelled with wood, handsomely carved, and have
ceilings and floors of the same, either painted of a dark colour, or
highly polished. In the evening, the windows being all open, and the
lamps lighted, a foil view may be obtained of these apartments.
Many of the houses appear to be kept entirely for show, since in
all my peregrinations I have never seen any human being in the upper
chambers, although illuminated every night. In others, there can be
no doubt concerning the fact of their having inhabitants, since the
owners do not scruple to go to bed with the windows open and the lamps
burning, not disturbed in their repose by the certainty of being seen
by every passer-by, or by the noise and bustle of the street.
The bazaar ends at the commencement of the Esplanade, in a large
building, wooden-fronted, of a circular form, and not unhandsome,
which is decorated with a flag upon the roof, and is called "The
Sailors' Home." Its verandahs and open windows often display our
jovial tars enjoying themselves in an asylum which, though evil has
been spoken against it, is said to be well-conducted, and to prevent a
very thoughtless class of persons from falling into worse hands.
The native town extends considerably on either side of the principal
avenue, one road leading through the coco-nut gardens, presenting a
great variety of very interesting features; that to the left is more
densely crowded, there being a large and well-frequented cloth bazaar,
besides a vast number of shops and native houses, apparently of
considerable importance. Here the indications shown of wealth and
industry are exceedingly gratifying to an eye delighting in the sight
of a happy and flourishing population. There are considerable spaces
of ground between these leading thoroughfares, which, by occasional
peeps down intersecting lanes, seem to be covered with a huddled
confusion of buildings, and, until the improvements which have
recently taken place, the whole of the town seems to have been nearly
in the same state.
The processes of widening, draining, pulling down, and rebuilding,
appear to have been carried on very extensively; and though much,
perhaps, remains to be done in the back settlements, where buffaloes
may be seen wading through the stagnant pools, the eye is seldom
offended, or the other senses disagreeably assailed, in passing
through this populous district. The season is, however, so favourable,
the heat being tempered by cool airs, which render the sunshine
endurable, that Bombay, under its present aspect, may be very
different from the Bombay of the rains or of the very hot weather. The
continual palm-trees, which, shooting up in all directions, add grace
and beauty to every scene, must form terrible receptacles for malaria;
the fog and mist are said to cling to their branches and hang round
them like a cloud, when dispersed by sun or wind elsewhere; the very
idea suggesting fever and ague.
Though, as I have before remarked, the contrast between the muslined
millions of Bengal and the less tastefully clad populace of Bombay is
unfavourable, still the crowds that fill the streets here are animated
and picturesque. There is a great display of the liveliest colours,
the turbans being frequently of the brightest of yellows, crimsons, or
greens.
The number of vehicles employed is quite extraordinary, those of the
merely respectable classes being chiefly bullock-carts; these are of
various descriptions, the greater number being of an oblong square,
and furnished with seats across (after the fashion of our taxed
carts), in which twelve persons, including women and children, are
frequently accommodated. It is most amusing to see the quantity of
heads squeezed close together in a vehicle of this kind, and the
various contrivances resorted to in order to accommodate a more than
sufficient number of personages in other conveyances, not so well
calculated to hold them. Four in a buggy is a common complement, and
six or nine persons will cram themselves into so small a space, that
you wonder how the vehicle can possibly contain the bodies of all the
heads seen looking out of it. The carts are chiefly open, but there
are a few covered _rhuts_, the conveyances probably of rich Hindu or
Mohamedan ladies, who do not content themselves, like the Parsees,
with merely covering their heads with the veil.
Young Parsee women of the better class are frequently to be seen in
carriages with their male relations, nor do they object to appear
publicly in the streets following wedding processions. They are the
only well-dressed or nice-looking women who drive or walk about the
streets or roads. The lower classes of females in Bombay are the most
unprepossessing people I ever saw. In Bengal, the _saree_, though
rather too scanty, is a graceful costume, and at a little distance
appears to be a modest covering. Here it is worn very differently, and
without the slightest attempt at delicacy or grace, the drapery being
in itself insufficient, and rendered more offensive by the method of
its arrangement.
The Parsee women are, generally speaking, of fair complexions, with
small features, and a very sweet expression of countenance; many
of them are exceedingly pretty, and they all dress gracefully and
becomingly. Very respectable females of this class are to be seen
walking about, showing by their conduct that propriety of behaviour
does not consist in seclusion, or the concealment of the face.
There is an innate delicacy and refinement about Parsee women which
commands respect, and their value is known and acknowledged by
their male relatives, who treat them with a degree of deference and
consideration which is highly creditable to both parties. Though the
men are found in service in every European family, they do not allow
their wives and daughters to become domestics to foreigners, and they
are only permitted to become servants to their own people. The higher
classes of natives have adopted European equipages, and are the owners
of the handsomest carriages and horses in Bombay. Chariots, barouches,
britschkas, and buggies, appear in great numbers, filled with
Mohamedan, Hindu, or Parsee gentlemen. The less fashionable use the
palanquin carriage, common in Bengal, but which at this place is
called a _shigram_; these are often crammed full of servants and
children.
Upon emerging from the bazaar, we enter upon the wide plain called the
Esplanade. To the left, across an extensive parade-ground, appears the
Fort, which is seen to the best advantage from this point; the walls
are low, and afford an ample view of a range of three-storied houses,
having verandahs all the way up, called Rampart Row, and from which
one or two very splendid mansions stand out conspicuously. To the
right, there is a whole encampment of tents, these canvas dwellings
being the sole refuge for the destitute. They may be hired in any
number and of every degree of elegance, none, however, quite reaching
to the refinements of Bengal, or being supplied with glass doors and
windows. Beyond the tents, and quite close to the beach, is the
space allotted for the temporary bungalows erected during the cold
season--singular places, which will be more fully described under the
head of Anglo-Indian residences. In front, and close to the warf or
bunder, are immense irregular piles of cotton in bales, which at a
distance appear like fortifications, and upon a nearer approach assume
somewhat of a picturesque air.
The Fort is surrounded on the land-side with a moat, and is entered
through some very shabby gateways. The interior of this extensive work
presents a busy, bustling scene; its numerous houses being arranged
with some degree of regularity in streets and open places. Those
who content themselves, however, with driving through the European
portion, will have very little idea of the true character of the
place. Rampart Row--the avenues leading into a large open space, in
which stand the cathedral, the town-hall, the mint, a cavalry
barrack, &c.--and the immediate environs, are composed of lofty,
well-constructed houses, some standing a little apart in courtyards,
and others with a narrow platform in front, ascended by steps, and
roofed by the story above. This, as I have previously stated, is the
general method of building in Bombay. These streets have somewhat of
an European, though not an English, air, but are for the most part
tenanted by natives, who may be seen at the windows of every floor,
and who apparently are better lodged, at least according to our idea,
than the same class in Calcutta. In this part of the Fort there
are several shops, or rather warehouses, for the sale of European
goods--dingy places, having a melancholy assortment of faded articles
in dim glass cases, freshness and variety in the merchandize depending
upon shipping arrivals.
Earthenware, glass, and cutlery, are abundant; but, altogether, there
is nothing at present to compare with the first-rate establishments of
Calcutta--such as Tulloh's, for instance--the whole style being dirty
and slovenly. A very civil native, named Muncherjee, who calls
himself a milliner, has, I am informed, very frequently well-chosen
investments to dispose of, but upon my visits I have seen nothing
wearable in the shape of bonnets and caps. An English milliner resides
in his neighbourhood, who possesses both skill and taste, and makes
up her silks and gauzes after the best French models; but necessarily,
perhaps, the purchases made at her rooms are rather expensive.
There is quite enough of bustle and animation in this quarter of the
Fort to engage the attention, but it seems silent and deserted when
compared with the crowd of the more exclusively native portions.
Here the streets literally swarm with life--men, women, children, and
bullocks, filling them almost to suffocation. Ranges of open shops
appear on each side, raised a foot or two from the ground, the
occupant being seated upon a ledge in front, in the midst of
his wares. Here, too, immense quantities of English glass and
crockery-ware are exhibited, which may be purchased at a much cheaper
rate than in shops styled, _par distinction_, European.
One or two opportunities offering for a visit to what is called the
China Bazaar, I gladly availed myself of them, and was much amused,
as the carriage made its slow way through the multitudes that thronged
the streets, to observe the employments of the people, buying,
selling, manufacturing their goods, or, for want of something else to
do, dragging little children in carts, which, by some contrivance, ran
back across the floor of the narrow apartment, and were then impelled
forward again by means of a string. This I found to be a favourite
occupation, and I never in any place saw more fondness manifested
towards children by their parents than in Bombay, or a greater desire
to associate them in all their amusements. At length, the carriage
stopped at a gateway, and upon alighting, I found myself in the midst
of a crowd of little children--an infant school, in fact, composed
indiscriminately of boys and girls. They were, generally speaking,
very pretty, and all well-dressed, many being adorned with very
handsome jewels.
The pedagogue--a Parsee, and rather a young man--with the barbarity
common to his class, was in the act of inflicting corporal punishment
upon a poor little creature, whom he beat upon the feet (ornamented,
by the way, with rich anclets) with a rod of split bamboo. I commanded
him to forbear, but speaking half in English and half in Hindustanee,
made myself better understood by look and gesture than by words. The
unhappy infant seemed to know that I interfered in its behalf, for
it gazed upon me with a piteous but grateful expression; it could not
have been more than three years old, and was really very pretty
and interesting in its tears. It was evidently the child of wealthy
parents, being dressed in a silk shirt embroidered and trimmed with
silver, a cap of the same upon its head, and numerous jewels besides.
The whole of the Lilliputian assembly uttered their lesson as I
passed, all raising their voices at the same time, and rendering it, I
imagine, rather difficult to determine whether each pupil repeated his
or her part correctly.
I would fain have lingered for a few minutes, but my attendants
officiously showing the way, I walked across a paved yard and up two
flights of steps to the shop of which I came in search, which was kept
by a good-looking Parsee. The trade of this person was designated
as that of a _bottlee wallah_, which being literally rendered means
'bottle-fellow,' but, according to a more free translation, a dealer
in glass, lamps, candlesticks, preserved meats in tin-cases, &c. &c.
I found a vast stock of the articles most in request in Indian
housekeeping, such as wall-shades, and all descriptions of earthen and
hard-ware, all of which he sold at very moderate prices, but having
executed the part of my commission which related to candlesticks, I
was unable to find the more _recherché_ articles of which I came in
quest.
I had been told that a great variety of ornamental china, the real
product of the Celestial Empire, was to be seen in the native shops
in Bombay. Though showy in appearance, this sort of china is of little
value, except to mark how much the manufacture has degenerated since
Europeans have learned to make their own teacups. I wished to obtain
a few specimens, but could not succeed. My friend, the bottlee wallah,
though very civil, could not afford me the information I required,
nor have I yet been able to obtain it. I have seen some handsome jars,
plates such as are used in England for the deposit of visitors' cards,
&c., which were purchased for a few annas, and have been told that
I might procure any quantity I pleased, but the where is still a
mystery.
All the information obtainable in Bombay must be fished out in an
extraordinary manner, both natives and Europeans seeming to make it a
rule never to commit themselves by a direct reply to any question;
in every single instance, up to the present time, I have always, upon
making an inquiry, been referred to somebody else. Neither do I
find the same zeal manifested in the servants, which amounts to
officiousness on the other side of India. I have sent them to purchase
the china, but can get nothing but rubbish, knowing all the while that
there are plenty of a better description to be had.
Upon my return, the bottlee wallah accompanied me to the carriage in
waiting, and as I paused to notice some of the children in the school,
introduced me to a group of his own sons and daughters, well decked
out in jewels, and otherwise richly dressed. The instruction given at
these schools I understood to be merely oral, the repetition of a few
verses, intended rather to pass away the time and keep the children
out of mischief, than as a foundation of more useful studies. I
hope that the system will be improved, for the pupils seemed to be
extremely intelligent, and capable of better things.
Returning home, I passed several shops, in which the artizans of a
very beautiful manufacture, peculiar to Bombay, were at work. Desks,
dressing-cases, work-boxes, card-cases, ink-stands, and a variety of
other ornamental fancy articles, are made of sandal-wood, covered and
inlaid with ivory, ebony, and a material resembling silver. They copy
the best patterns, and produce exceedingly elegant appendages for
the drawing or dressing-room tables. A desk, handsomely fitted up and
lined with velvet, is sold for seven or eight pounds; large ink-stands
and blotting books for twenty rupees, and card-cases for six or eight.
It is impossible, while perambulating the Fort of Bombay, to avoid
a feeling of apprehension concerning a catastrophe, which sooner or
later seems certain to happen, and which nothing short of a miracle
appears to prevent from taking place every night; I mean the
destruction of the whole by fire. All the houses are constructed of
the most combustible materials, and the greater number belonging to
the native quarter are thatched. Though contrary to law, many of the
warehouses contain gunpowder, while the immense quantity of oil
and spirits stored up in them would render a conflagration, once
commenced, most fearful. Few or no precautions seem to be taken by the
natives against fire. There are lights burning in every room of every
house, fires are continually made outside, whence a single spark
might set the whole in flames; and added to these dangers, are the
prejudices of the great number of the inhabitants, whose religious
feelings would prevent them from making the slightest endeavour to
stay the progress of the element which they worship. Nor would the
destruction of property be the sole danger. It is terrible to think
of the fearful risk of life in a place in which escape would be so
difficult. The gates of the Fort are few in number, and of narrow
dimensions; a new one is now constructing, probably with some view
to an emergence of the kind. The natives, upon the occasion of its
proposal, evinced their readiness to assist in the execution of a plan
so advantageous to the place of their abode, and immediately advanced
half the sum which this necessary improvement would cost--namely,
thirty thousand rupees--which were subscribed and paid into the
treasury in the course of a week.
In 1803 or 1804, a very destructive conflagration actually took place
in the Fort of Bombay, and upon that occasion, in order to save the
castle, which did then, and does now, contain an immense quantity of
gunpowder, the authorities were obliged to bring out cannon to batter
down the surrounding houses, for the purpose of arresting the progress
of the flames. When the place was rebuilt, many salutary regulations
were made to prevent the recurrence of so great a calamity, and could
all the plans of Government have been accomplished, the danger which
now threatens Bombay would have been very considerably lessened; but
it was found impossible to carry out all the objects contemplated,
in consequence of the great value of the property which they would
affect.
The land within the walls of the Fort has become in a great measure
private property, and the convenience of its contiguity to the harbour
is so great, and the natives entertain so strong an idea of security
in a residence in a fortified place, however disqualified to resist
a hostile force, that nothing would prevail upon them to relinquish
their houses. The higher classes are well aware of the hazards they
incur, but, like the dwellers in the neighbourhood of a volcano, are
unwilling to quit a place endeared to them by long residence, though
they know not the hour in which they may be buried beneath its smoking
ruins. There are only a few Europeans who continue to inhabit the
Fort, but it must contain a very considerable portion of the property
of those merchants who have their offices and warehouses within its
walls. The British authorities have taken all the precautions in
their power, the fire-engines have been placed in a state of greater
efficiency than heretofore, while, should an extensive fire take
place, everything that European strength and skill could accomplish
would be attempted.
Amongst the various accidents to which houses in Bombay are subjected,
the one to be most apprehended, that of fire, is often brought about
by rats. They will carry off a lighted candle at every convenient
opportunity, setting fire to dwellings by this means. They have been
also known to upset tumblers containing oil, which is thus spread
abroad and likely to be ignited by the falling wick. It is, perhaps,
impossible totally to exterminate this race of vermin, which in the
Fort set cats completely at defiance, but something might be done to
keep the population down. I have been told that there are places in
the more crowded portion rendered perfectly impassable at night in
consequence of the effluvia arising from the immense quantities of
musk rats, which, together with the common sort, and bandicoots of an
incredible size, abound, the narrow close lanes being apparently
built for the purpose of affording accommodation to vermin of every
description. Nevertheless, some of the native houses of the Fort would
form very agreeable residences to persons accustomed to the utmost
refinement. Being exceedingly lofty, the upper apartments have the
advantage of every breeze that blows, while the views both of sea and
land are splendid.
The immense size of these houses, and the elegance of their
decorations, evince the spirit and wealth of their owners; they become
absolutely beacons at night, in consequence of the frequency and the
extent of their illuminations. Numerous are the occasions, either of
holidays or other rejoicings, in which the natives of Bombay light
up their houses; rows of lamps hung along the wide fronts of the
verandahs, upon every floor, produce a good effect, which is often
heightened by the flood of light poured out of apartments decorated
with chandeliers and lamps of every description.
In passing through the bazaar at night, every third or fourth house
is lit up upon some festive occasion; one favourite and very pretty
method consists of a number of small lamps, arranged to resemble
bunches of grapes, and hung up in the trees of a court-yard. Sometimes
in the evening, a sort of market is held in the native town beyond
the Esplanade, and every stall is profusely lighted; the hawkers,
who carry about their goods in a more humble way upon their heads in
baskets, have them stuck with candles, and the wild shadowy effects
produced, amid the quaint buildings thus partially lighted, afford a
continual phantasmagoria.
They must be destitute of imagination, indeed, who cannot find
pleasure in the contemplation of the night-scenes of Bombay, either
from its native crowds, or the delicious solitudes of its sylvan
shades. The ear is the only organ absolutely unblest in this sunny
island, the noises being incessant, and most discordant; the shrieking
of jackals by night is music compared to that from native instruments,
which, in the most remote places, are continually striking up:
the drums, trumpets, bells, and squeaking pipes, of a neighbouring
village, are now inflicting their torments upon my distracted brain
in the most barbarous manner possible. The exertions of the performers
never appear to relax, and by night or day, it is all the same; they
make themselves heard at any distance, parading along the roads for
the sole purpose, it should seem, of annoying the more peaceable
inhabitants. Certainly, the sister arts of music and painting have
yet to make their way in India, the taste for both being at present
perfectly barbarous.
The European bands, when playing on the Esplanade, attract a very
considerable number of natives; but whether congregated for the
purpose of listening to the music, or merely for the sake of
passing the time, seems very doubtful. A few, certainly, manifest
a predilection for "concord of sweet sounds," and no difficulty is
experienced by band-masters in recruiting their forces from natives,
the boys learning readily, and acquitting themselves very well
upon instruments foreign to the country. There is, however, no
manifestation at present of the spread of a refined taste, and many
years will probably elapse before any thing like good music will be
common in this part of Asia.
The great variety of religions extant in Bombay, each being
distinguished by numerous festivals, all celebrated in the same
manner--that is, by noise and illuminations--sufficiently accounts
for the perpetual recurrence of lamp-lighting and drumming in all
directions. Every week brings round the anniversary of some day of
rejoicing of the Mohamedans, Hindus, Parsees, Jews, Roman Catholics,
or Armenians, and Bombay may therefore be said to present one
universal holiday. Passing the other evening one of the handsomest
pagodas in the island, an oblong square building of yellow stone,
with a mitre-shaped tower at one end, I was surprised by the number
of European carriages in waiting. The exterior had all the air of
a Christian church, the situation beautiful, a platform of rock
overlooking the sea; and I could not help indulging the hope, that the
substitution of chariots and buggies for palanquins and _rhuts_ would
lead to the introduction of a purer and better creed.