_BOMBAY._
I looked out of the carriage window for some time upon the distant
ghauts, and the nearer and fantastically shaped rocks with their
tropical vegetation, now bathed in moonlight, until at last I happily
dropped off to sleep, and remember nothing more until we reached
Bombay at 7 A.M.
There we found Mr. Kindred and the men from the yacht waiting to meet
us. Leaving them to look after the luggage, the Doctor and I got our
two invalids into gharries, and drove at once to Malabar Point to stay
with the Governor and Lady Reay. Tom shortly afterwards appeared and
surprised us by his description of the unprecedentedly quick run of
the 'Sunbeam' from Kurrachee. Then Lady Reay and Captain Hamilton came
to welcome us, having just returned from their morning ride. Breakfast
over, the rest of the morning was busily spent in writing and in
getting things into order.
In the afternoon we drove with Captain Hamilton along the Breach Candy
road to the famous Towers of Silence, or Parsee cemetery, where we
were met by Sir Jamsetjee Jejeebhoy's secretary, who conducted us over
this most interesting place and explained fully the Parsee method of
disposing of their dead and the religious motives which led to its
adoption. Much as the explanation interested me, I will not repeat it
here; but I must notice the beauty of the view from the Prayer-rooms,
and the solemn stillness of the garden below, where the relatives of
the departed come to talk peacefully over their memories. However
admirable the arrangement may be from a sanitary point of view, I
never could get reconciled to the presence of the vultures, though
they were not at all unpicturesque, for their unwieldy copper-coloured
bodies contrasted well with the massive and brilliant foliage.
From the Towers of Silence we drove in a kind of quadruple dog-cart,
with four seats facing alternately outwards, forwards, and backwards,
and drawn by a fiery pair of horses, through the native town to the
yacht. The view from the road, cut, as it is, in the side of the
Malabar hill, was both beautiful and striking. It looks down upon a
perfect sea of palm-leaves, gently waving in the breeze, which
conceal, save where the tower of some tall building peeps forth, a
city of more than 800,000 inhabitants.
[Illustration: The Ghauts, Bombay]
Four o'clock of the morning of February 16th found me in the verandah
outside our bungalow, listening to the roaring of the cannon, which
ushered in the day on which was to be celebrated in India the Jubilee
of Victoria, its Queen and Empress. The hours are early here, and at a
quarter to eight Lady Reay, Captain Gordon, Tom, and I started to
'assist' at the grand ceremony at the Town Hall, followed later by the
Governor and his aides-de-camp. As we neared the city the crowd became
greater, everyone being dressed in holiday attire, and all apparently
in a great state of enthusiasm and excitement. It looked like a
many-tinted bed of flowers; for the Parsee ladies, unlike their
Mahomedan and Hindoo sisters, have no dislike to display their
toilettes in public, and are always clad in the gayest colours,
arranged with perfect taste. The only specially distinctive mark in
their costume is a rather unbecoming white band drawn tightly over the
brow. In many cases, however, this had been judiciously pushed back so
far as nearly to disappear under the bright-coloured silk sari which
only partly concealed their jet-black and glossy tresses. Every Parsee
has to wear the sacred shirt of cotton gauze, and the Kusti, or cord
of seventy-two woollen threads, representing, like the divisions of
the Towers of Silence, the numbers of the chapters of one of the
sacred books.
Near the Town Hall the scene became still more animated, and the
applause of the multitude, though much more subdued in tone than the
roar of an English crowd, was quite as enthusiastic. The men from
H.M.S. 'Bacchante' lined the approaches to the building, and the
Bombay Volunteers acted as a guard-of-honour. We were ushered into the
gallery, where chairs were placed for Lady Reay and myself close to
the Governor's throne. The sight from this 'coign of vantage' was
indeed imposing. Immediately in front stretched a fine flight of
steps, covered with red cloth, and crowded with European and native
officials in every variety of costume. The approach to the steps was
through a pretty garden, where the wealth of tropical vegetation was
set off by flags and gaily coloured banners. A dense crowd of natives
ringed this enclosure round, whilst lofty houses, their gaily draped
balconies and windows filled with bright and happy faces, made a
brilliant background. Presently the Governor was seen approaching,
escorted by his own bodyguard and a company of mounted volunteers (now
called the Bombay Light Horse), who looked very picturesque and
soldierlike as they dashed through the crowd. All dismounted at the
west entrance to the garden, where a procession was formed, at the
head of which the Governor advanced and, amid a flourish of trumpets,
took his stand in front of the throne to receive the addresses and
telegrams presented by, or on behalf of, various classes of the
community in the Bombay Presidency. No less than fifty-eight
congratulatory telegrams from public bodies in the Mofussil had been
received, and, after leave asked and granted, a number of deputations
were introduced, who presented their documents enclosed in handsome
caskets or in kincob bags. Almost the first telegram came from his
Highness Aga Sultan Mahomed Shah, a potentate who is regarded by his
followers with great awe and reverence. Then followed a message from
the Rao of Cutch, enclosed in a beautifully embroidered bag, succeeded
by many others. Fortunately all save two were 'taken as read,' the
exceptions being the address presented by the inhabitants of Bombay
and by the Senate of the University. The presentation of the caskets,
some of which were quite works of art, occupied a long, long time. One
casket seemed to be covered with a sort of lacework of ivory and
ebony, and was still further ornamented by wreaths studded with gold
and exquisitely modelled figures of elephants and wild beasts. Others,
again, were of ebony profusely inlaid with silver.
[Illustration: Bodyguard and Peon, Malabar Point]
The Governor's replies to the addresses were most happy, and evidently
touched the feelings of his hearers. As he uttered his final words two
young middies, perched on a dangerous-looking corner of the parapet,
scrambled on to the roof, and, at a given signal, smartly unfurled an
immense Royal Standard, amid the thunder of an imperial salute of 101
guns. The effect of the whole scene was deeply impressive, as well as
suggestive. I have seen many ceremonies both at home and abroad, but
never one more picturesque or of more thrilling interest.
From the town hall we went, still in procession, to the cathedral,
which stands close to the Elphinstone Garden, where a musical service
was held. 'God save the Queen' was magnificently rendered, and the two
specially written verses which were added to the National Anthem were
most effective.
After service the Governor and Lady Reay, with their aides-de-camp, in
one carriage, and we in another, returned to Malabar Point, where we
were only too glad to put off our finery and rest quietly indoors
until half-past four, precisely at which hour we had to resume our
war-paint and go, again in procession, to Parel, to meet their Royal
Highnesses, the Duke and Duchess of Connaught. The road lay through
the poorer part of the city, but was made gay and interesting by the
crowd of people through which we passed, and by the preparations which
all were busily making to take part in the Jubilee.
Parel is the official residence of the Governor of Bombay; much larger
than, but not nearly so agreeable as, the house at Malabar Point;
however, each successive Governor appears to entertain a different
opinion on this subject, and Lord Reay's predecessor preferred Parel.
The garden, with its fine trees and luxuriant vegetation, is pretty,
but not very private; for a Hindoo house, much used for marriages,
stands on one side of the tank which borders it, while the tramway
almost touches it on the other. The house itself, originally a
Portuguese chapel and monastery, is three-storeyed, and contains some
fine spacious rooms. The present Governor intends to give up Parel for
the use of the Victoria Technical Institute till a more suitable
building can be found.
In the adjoining bungalow a substantial tea, with all sorts of cooling
drinks, was temptingly arranged among masses of flowers and greenery.
The servants from Malabar Point seemed to have arrived by magic, and
their picturesque liveries added much to the brilliancy of the scene.
The refreshments proved not to be by any means useless, for the Duke
and Duchess of Connaught had commenced the day at Poonah by inspecting
the troops on horseback at 7 A.M.; and this was closely followed by
the opening of the Poultry Show and several other functions, to say
nothing of a railway journey of six hours in the heat of the day from
Poonah to Bombay.
In a pleasant, informal way, we were then told off to carriages from
which to see the illuminations, an escort of cavalry and of the
bodyguard being provided to prevent, as far as possible, our small
procession being broken up by the crowd. In the suburbs the
illuminations were general but simple in design. There was a more
pretentious display in front of the Veterinary Hospital, consisting of
transparent pictures of horses and cows. This hospital was established
by Sir Dinshaw Manockjee Petit, one of the largest mill-owners of
Bombay, who has received the honour of knighthood as a Jubilee gift.
[Illustration: PATIALA ELEPHANTS: THE DRIVE]
Presently the crowd became more numerous, and began to run alongside
the carriages, shouting, and carrying blue lights, a compliment with
which we could well have dispensed; for the smoke, the clouds of
powder which they occasionally threw into the air, the dust raised as
they rushed along, and the general heat and want of air in the narrow
streets, had a stifling effect. The illuminations were not only
artistically beautiful, but afforded a proof that members of every
religion and class had united to do honour to their Sovereign. Among
the most striking buildings were a Mahomedan Mosque, the lines of
which were clearly defined against the starlit sky by rows of pure
white lanterns; a Hindoo temple, where court within court was lighted
in a simple and effective manner by _butties_ filled with cocoa-nut
oil; and several Jain temples brightly illuminated with coloured
lights. In the native quarter the houses were lighted up in the
peculiar Indian fashion by chandeliers suspended from the windows or
across the streets--perhaps the most wonderful part of the scene.
After driving through the crowded streets we proceeded to the Apollo
Bunder--now officially called the Wellington Pier--to witness the
illumination of the harbour and the grand display of fireworks. The
harbour, with its thousands and thousands of twinkling lights, was a
sight to be remembered. Even the little 'Sunbeam,' though somewhat
overshadowed by the huge 'Bacchante,' displayed with good effect a row
of coloured lights from stem to stern.
As we drove home we much admired the illumination of the public
gardens on the Malabar Hill. The name 'Victoria' was written in lines
of fire on its steep slopes, and was reflected with beautiful effect
in the still waters of the bay.
Just before reaching home the horses in our carriage took to jibbing,
and after nearly being precipitated over a wall and down an embankment
we thought it better to get out and walk, which made us rather late
for dinner. We were not alone in misfortune, however, for another of
the carriages had collided with a tramcar; and a horse in yet another
vehicle, in which the A.D.C.'s were driving, severely injured itself.
The next morning (Thursday, February 17th) we were all rather
late--that is to say, for this part of the world. Personally, I began
to work between seven and eight o'clock, and consequently got through
a good deal before breakfast. Afterwards a succession of visitors
arrived, friendly, complimentary, and on business, among the latter
being many tradesmen, anxious to press their wares upon us. The
verandah was soon crowded by box-wallahs, who squatted in the midst of
their piles of brilliantly coloured silks, gauze, and muslins, or
arrived laden with specimens of heavy lacquered-work, carved ivory,
sandal-wood, Poonah inlaid work, arms, and jewels. A verandah at the
back of the chief bungalow, containing the reception-rooms, had
meanwhile been completely filled by a long table, on which was
displayed a magnificent collection of jewels belonging to a well-known
jeweller and diamond merchant. Brilliants of the size of walnuts were
there by the dozen, side by side with huge emeralds; bracelets
composed of hundreds of shining gems; a tiara of diamonds formerly
belonging to the Empress of the French; rings with precious stones of
such dimensions that none but a large finger could wear them; and
altogether such a mixture of Oriental and European splendour, and
ancient and modern fashions, as one would scarcely have imagined it
possible to collect together. We made no purchases, but the wealthy
jeweller was quite pleased to have the opportunity of displaying his
splendid wares. A compliment from the Governor seemed to satisfy him
completely; and before we had been five minutes at lunch the whole of
his valuable stock was stowed away in two or three common-looking
little boxes, tied up in cloth, and so transported back to his strong
box. I do not profess to be a judge of jewels, but those who knew more
of such things than I did estimated the value of the collection at
over a million sterling.
Early in the afternoon I had to hurry off to the yacht to receive a
large party on board. In the evening a ball was given by the Governor
at Malabar Hill. It was a brilliant entertainment in celebration of
the Jubilee.
[Illustration: The Apollo Bunder]
Everything had been well arranged: the drawing-room with its perfect
floor formed a beautiful ball-room, whilst in both verandahs stood
plenty of sofas and lounges. On each side of the house the garden
paths leading to the water's edge were illuminated, fireworks being
discharged from boats at intervals. The ships in the harbour were also
dressed with fire instead of bunting. Above all, the air felt
deliciously cool. On one side of the house bountiful supper-tables,
decorated with large baskets of flowers, had been laid out under
awnings spread beneath the trees. The band was perfect, and though the
ball was by no means over at that hour, it must have been quite three
o'clock before we all retired.
On Friday, February 18th, we had another busy morning, making various
arrangements for sea. Mr. McLean had been pronounced well enough to go
home by to-day's P. & O. steamer, which he was anxious to do, for he
is to row in the Oxford Eight. Pratt, the steward, who has been with
us during our journey through India, has been unwell for some time
past, and is therefore recommended by the Doctor to return at the same
time. We had always intended to send home my dear and clever poodle
'Sir Roger' from Bombay; his place on the steamer had been secured,
and all his little belongings sent on board. Mabelle and I went off to
the yacht in the morning. About three o'clock Tom arrived, and at once
went off with Mr. McLean and Pratt. They found 'Sir Roger' already
established on board the steamer, but looking so utterly miserable
that, knowing well how sorry we were to part with him, Tom insisted on
bringing him back again. The poor dog has seemed quite crestfallen for
some days past, and yesterday, instead of remaining quietly in my room
at Government House, as he always does when I go out without him, he
escaped and hid himself under the Governor's chair, only giving
occasional notice of his presence by a short, nervous bark.
After the departure of the steamer Mabelle and I had only just
sufficient time to reach Government House to be present at Lady Reay's
_purdah_ party, to which only ladies are admitted. The entertainment
derives its name from the _purdah_, or curtain, behind which Mahomedan
and Hindoo ladies are supposed to live, veiled from the sight of men.
Lady Reay's visitors were all dressed in their best, and seemed full
of delight at this pleasant incident in their monotonous life; but
their ways of showing enjoyment were various and amusing. Some wanted
only to look on; others were glad to talk to any English lady who
could converse with them, while others again were much taken up with
the sweetmeats and ices. The behaviour of two ladies amused me
immensely. Their servant having awkwardly upset and broken a glass,
spilling the contents on the floor, they immediately flew at her and
slapped her so hard that the sound of the blows could be plainly heard
all over the room. The woman did not seem to resent this treatment in
the least, for she only laughed and proceeded to pick up the pieces.
[Illustration: Bombay Harbour]
Several of these ladies asked me to allow them to go on board the
yacht; and when the others found that I had promised to try to make
arrangements to preserve the _purdah_ properly, they all wanted to
come. I found, therefore, there was nothing for it but to give a large
party on the only vacant day left to us before our departure from
Bombay. Mrs. H. Ali was specially interested in the matter when she
found that we intended to call, if possible, at Jinjeera on our way
to Ceylon, and to see the Nawab, who has married her youngest daughter
as his second wife.
[Illustration: Omnibus-horse Tope]
Some of the dresses were quite gorgeous, and would take long to
describe. The Parsees looked slim and graceful as Greek girls, their
_saris_ of bright satin or silk hanging in light folds and showing the
strips of delicate narrow embroidery with which they were ornamented.
The Hindoo ladies draped their _saris_ around them; while the
Mahomedans, with their bright-coloured trousers, skirts, and yashmaks,
made a vivid contrast to the other guests. The skirts of some of the
ladies were so full that they stuck out further than any crinoline
ever seen, and must, I am sure, have had more than a hundred yards of
satin in them. When it was time to leave, it was curious to see how
closely all the ladies veiled. Some of the attendants were provided
with bundles which proved to be immense veils. These they threw over
their mistresses, shrouding completely both face and figure.
When this reception was over I had to dress and hurry down to the
yacht to receive a party of my own friends, after which we all
returned to Malabar Point to dinner.
The Byculla Club Ball, at which their Royal Highnesses the Duke and
Duchess of Connaught were present, took place in the evening; a
splendid affair, held in spacious well-arranged rooms.
[Illustration: Hindoo Girl]
Next morning early the children went for a ride with their father and
Captain Hamilton, and after breakfast there arrived a continuous
stream of box-wallahs and visitors until midday. The Guicowar of
Baroda called to see the Governor, while Lady Reay and I sat in the
verandah chatting with Captain Elliot, who has been till recently the
Prince's tutor. The Guicowar speaks English well, not only correctly
and fluently, but idiomatically. He is loyal to British rule, and the
object of the present visit was to obtain a further supply of arms for
his soldiers; it having been considered desirable policy to encourage
him to form a large force of cavalry, which might be found valuable as
auxiliaries. His adopted mother, too, is a remarkable woman. During
the last Russian scare she offered to equip a band of Amazons for
service in the field.
After this visit many preparations had to be made for resuming our
voyage; but they were finished in time to allow Tom and me,
accompanied by Mrs. Keating, Captain Hamilton, and the children, to
drive down early in the afternoon to see the annual race-meeting at
Byculla. The races are almost entirely in the hands of Arabs, and are
as a rule well worth seeing.
One of the most interesting sights to me was a group of horse-dealers
from Arabia and the Persian Gulf. They have handsome faces and clear
olive complexions, soft silky hair and moustache, and beautifully
trimmed beards. These picturesquely attired men import large
quantities of horses into India, and easily sell them, either singly
or in batches, to other dealers.
From the racecourse we drove to the Oval, where 15,000 schoolchildren
were to be feasted in celebration of the Jubilee. Being rather late,
we met many of them coming away singing hymns and songs.
[Illustration: At the Children's Ball]
After this short glimpse of the children's festival we hurried on
board to receive the Duke and Duchess of Connaught at dinner, and the
Governor and Lady Reay. Captain Moore kindly sent the band of the
'Bacchante' to play to us, and after dinner several middies from the
flagship joined our little party. It was truly delightful to sit on
deck in the cool evening breeze and listen to the sweet strains of the
music. At half-past ten we embarked in the steam-launch to look at
the fireworks and the illumination of the shipping.
[Illustration: RELIGIOUS FESTIVAL, MALABAR POINT]
_February 20th._--Attended the beautiful evening service in the
cathedral. The crew of the 'Sunbeam' accompanied us. The cool drive
back to charming Malabar Point was most refreshing, and we enjoyed our
quiet dinner and pleasant chat afterwards in the verandah,
notwithstanding the sad reflection that it was our last evening with
our dear and kind friends.
_February 21st._--This morning the children went out early with a
large riding party. After breakfast I had to hurry on board to make
the final arrangements for the visit of the _purdah_ ladies, and for
our start this evening. It was rather a difficult matter to get our
visitors on board the big steam-launch and other boats without visible
masculine assistance; but all was accomplished safely and
satisfactorily, and they mustered in great force. I think they all
enjoyed this little expedition, with its novel experiences, greatly.
As soon as the last lady had departed we hurried off to attend the St.
John's Ambulance Meeting at the Secretariate, at which the Governor
kindly presided. I earnestly hope it may be the means of reviving in
Bombay some interest in the rather languishing local branch of a very
useful institution. Many influential people were present, including
doctors, large mill-owners, railway and police officials, and
employers of labour generally, all of whom appeared warmly disposed to
support the movement.
Directly after this meeting, Tom, who had intended to go on board the
yacht with Lord Reay, was carried off by the bishop to see the
Sailors' Institute. I therefore returned to the 'Sunbeam' alone, to
see to various matters, and, later on, went back to Government House,
where, as is nearly always the case, we had to dress for dinner in a
desperate hurry. There was a large party assembled, among others being
Sir Lepel Griffin.
All too soon came the last parting; and, in a long procession of
barouches, phaetons, tandems, and dog-carts, we drove down to the
Bunder, descending the steps for the last time with Maude Laurence
(who is shortly returning to England), Captain Hamilton, Mr. Herbert,
Major Gilchrist, and several other friends who had come to see us off.
It was a sad business.
[Illustration: Map of India]
[Illustration: The Arch of the Viceroys, Goa]