[Illustration: THE TAJ MAHAL FROM THE RIVER.]
LIFE AND TRAVEL IN INDIA
BEING RECOLLECTIONS OF A JOURNEY
BEFORE THE DAYS OF RAILROADS
BY
ANNA HARRIETTE LEONOWENS
_Author of "Siam and the Siamese"_
_ILLUSTRATED_
PHILADELPHIA
HENRY T. COATES & CO.
1897
Copyright, 1884,
BY PORTER & COATES.
THIS LITTLE VOLUME OF TRAVELS
Is Inscribed to
MR. AND MRS. WILLIAM W. JUSTICE,
IN
GRATEFUL APPRECIATION OF THEIR FRIENDSHIP,
BY
THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
The Island of Bambâ Dèvi.--Sights and Scenes round about Bombay 7
CHAPTER II.
Malabar Hill, and Domestic Life of the English in Bombay 39
CHAPTER III.
The Island of Shastee, commonly called Salsette.--Gharipoore,
"the Town of Purification," or the Island and Caves of Elephanta 51
CHAPTER IV.
Sampwallas, or Serpent-Charmers.--Jâdoowallahs, or
Miracle-Performers.--Nuzer-Bundyânâ, Mesmerizers.--Yogees,
Spiritual Jugglers, and Naga-Poojmi, or Serpent-Worship, in India 65
CHAPTER V.
The Parsees, or Fire-Worshippers, of Bombay.--A Visit to a
Fire-Priest and Astrologer.--His Astral Predictions.--The Gâthas.
--Zoroaster.--His Life and Religion.--History of the Settlement
of the Parsees in India 79
CHAPTER VI.
Domestic Life of the Fire-Worshippers.--The Zend-Avesta.--Parsee
Rites and Ceremonies at Birth, Marriage, Death, and Final
Consignment to the Tower of Silence 105
CHAPTER VII.
Hindoo Treatment of the Sick.--Pundit's House Defiled.--Its
Purification.--Short Sketch of the Different Races and of
the Origin of Castes and Creeds among the People of Hindostan 129
CHAPTER VIII.
A Visit to the House of Baboo Ram Chunder.--His Wife.--Rajpoot
Wrestlers.--Nautchnees, or Hindoo Ballet-Girls.--A
Hindoo Drama.--Visit to a Nautchnees' School.--Bayahdiers,
or Dancing-Girls, attached to the Hindoo Temples.--Profession,
Education, Dress, Character, Fate in Old Age and After
Death.--Cusbans, or Common Women.--Marked Differences
between these three Classes of Public Women 173
CHAPTER IX.
From Bombay to Poonah, the Capital of the Maha Rastra, or the
great Indian Kings.--Campooly.--The Ascent of the Bhor
Ghauts.--Khondala.--Caves of Carlee or Karli.--"Puja Chakra,"
or the famous Wheel-Worship of the Brahmans.--Poonah.--Kirki.--A
Visit to the Peishwa's Palace.--Temple of Parvati.--The Pundit
and the Brahmin Priest at Prayer.--Sanscrit and English Colleges
at Poonah.--Suttee Monuments at Sangam.--Hindoo Bankers, etc. 208
CHAPTER X.
The beautiful Hindoo Village of Wye.--The Mahabaleshwar
Hills.--The Temple of the Gods.--The Couch of Krishna.--The
Stone Image of the Cow from whose Mouth the Five Rivers
of this Region are said to Spring.--The Holy Tank.--Satarah,
the Star City of the Mahratta Empire.--The Fort.--The Palace
of Sivaji.--Jejureh, the famous Hill-Temples where the
Dancing-Girls of the Country are Recruited.--The Mad Gossain,
and the Story of his Ill-Fated Love.--The Dancing-Girl
Krayâhnee 228
CHAPTER XI.
From Satarah, the Star City of the great Mahratta Kings, to
Dowlutabâd, the Abode of Fortune, and Aurungabâd, the Golden
City of the Mohgul Emperors.--Tombs of Boorhan Ood Deen
and Aurungzebe.--Mausoleum of Rhabea Duranee.--Sketch
of the Mohgul Invasion of India.--Manners, Customs, and
Religious Ceremonies of the Mohammedans of Hindostan 243
CHAPTER XII.
The Temples of Ellora, the Holy Place of the Deccan.--Nashik,
the Land of the Râmâyanâ.--Sights and Scenes on the Banks of the
Godaveri.--Damaun, the most famous of the Indo-Portuguese Towns 270
CHAPTER XIII.
The Taptee River.--Surat and its Environs.--The Borahs and
Kholees of Guzerat.--Baroda, the Capital of the
Guicowars.--Fakeers, or Relic-Carriers, of Baroda.--Cambay.
--Mount Aboo.--Jain Temples on Mount Aboo, etc. 286
CHAPTER XIV.
Calcutta, the City of the Black Venus, Kali.--The River
Hoogley.--Cremation Towers.--Chowringee, the Fashionable Suburb
of Calcutta.--The Black Hole.--Battles of Plassey and
Assaye.--The Brahmo-Somaj.--Temple of Kali.--Feast of
Juggurnath.--Benares and the Taj Mahal 303
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
THE TAJ MAHAL FROM THE RIVER, Frontispiece
BANYAN TREE, 36
CAVES OF ELEPHANTA, 53
NATIVE SNAKE CHARMERS, 66
A PARSEE LADY, 106
BOMBAY. UNIVERSITY AND ESPLANADE, 128
BUDDHIST PRIEST PREACHING AT THE DOOR OF A TEMPLE, 161
BULLOCK CART, 208
TOMB OF RAHBEA DHOORANE, AT AURANGABÂD, 250
ROCK CUT TEMPLES OF ELLORA, 270
NATIVE PASSENGER BOAT ON THE HOOGLY, 302
THE MUNIKURNIKA GHAT, ONE OF THE BURNING GHATS
OF BENARES, 322
PREFACE.
In the following pages, gathered from voluminous notes of early travel,
I have tried to give a faithful account of life in India, as well as of
the sights and scenes visited by me, with my husband, before the days of
railroad travel.
It is well known that the introduction of the railroad into India has in
no sense affected the life of the people, and has only very slightly
modified the general appearance of the country. India is still what it
was in the Vèdic period, a land of peasant classes; she still invokes,
as did the ancient Aryans in the Rig Vèda, the "Khe-tra-pati," or the
divinity of the soil, for blessings on the land. The Hindoo to-day
lives, as did his forefathers, close to the heart of Nature, deifying
the mountains, streams, woods, and lakes, while the sun, moon, stars,
fire, water, earth, air, sky, and corn are his highest deities. The most
beautiful personification in the Ramâyânâ of womanly grace and virtue is
called _Sita_, "a furrow," showing how deep was the national reverence
paid to the plough; and to this day at the _Rathsaptimi_, the day on
which the new sun is supposed to mount his heavenly chariot, a feast is
observed in honor of the sun, and the ryots on this occasion decorate
with flowers and paint their ploughs, and worship them as the saviors of
the land.
I do not, however, mean to say that India has made no progress whatever
in all these years--her imaginative and glorious youth has no doubt been
succeeded by the calm reason of mature age--but this transition has been
gradual and progressive rather than fitful and sudden.
The transfer of India by the East India Company to the British Crown,
and the recent laws for the protection of the ryot--or more properly the
_raiyat_, a leaser of land held in perpetuity--against the oppressions
of the zemindars, or governmental landlords, with the right of
underletting the land, have to an extraordinary degree awakened the
inborn desire of the Hindoo to become possessor of the soil and to
return to his hereditary occupation of agriculture. To these may be
added the security which England has conferred upon India, now that she
is no longer disturbed by frequent wars, which desolated the land, and
every now and then forced the people to abandon their villages and fly
to the jungles and mountains for safety, under the Afghans, Mohguls,
Mahrattas, and other predatory chiefs. Among the lasting benefits to
India it may be mentioned that sutteeism, infanticide, self-immolation
to the idols, Thuggism, and slavery have all been partially, if not
quite, abolished by the strong arm of the law. Railroads have been
built, the country has been opened, schools established, civil service
appointments thrown open to the natives and Europeans alike, good roads
made, canals and huge reservoirs for water excavated, ancient
water-courses reopened, giving an impetus to private enterprise and
industry in every direction. All these happy changes have been the
result of the more liberal policy of England toward India since the days
of the terrible mutiny of 1857; and it may fairly be hoped that British
India has before her as glorious a future as her brilliant youth and
maturity have foreshadowed for her.
A. H. L.
SUNNYSIDE, Halifax, Nova Scotia, }
August 7, 1884. }
LIFE AND TRAVEL IN INDIA
CHAPTER I.
The Island of Bambâ Dèvi.--Sights and Scenes round about Bombay.
In that most delightful of all Indian months, the cool month of
November, with the distant booming of a great gun that announced its
arrival, the steamer from Aden came to anchor in the harbor of Bombay,
bringing me among its many passengers. Here I was in this strange land,
a young girl fresh from school, now entering upon a life so different,
one which I was to lead through a long term of years.
The sun shone through the mists and haze of the early dawn, and I could
see from my cabin window, with a sense of mingled wonder and curiosity,
the great stone quays and the long flights of stone steps which led to
the beautiful island of Bombay, lying there like a gem in the water, and
of which I knew nothing whatever, save that it was once the
marriage-dowry of a queen of England.
According to some authorities, it takes its name from two Portuguese
words, "Buon Bahia," Good Bay; but in reality it has a still more
ancient origin, being called after a very beautiful Hindoo queen,
afterward deified as Bambâ Dèvi, who long before the days of Alexander
the Great was the presiding genius of the land. She was worshipped as
"Mahimâ Dèvi," or the Great Mother, in one of the oldest and largest
Hindoo temples which formerly stood in the great plain now called the
Esplanade. It was pulled down about a hundred years ago, and rebuilt
near the Bhendee Bazaar, and is to this day called by her name and set
apart to her peculiar service.
The longer I looked on that bay, and on those ancient islands with their
towers and spires, both pagan and Christian, gleaming in the pure
morning sunlight, the more I felt that it was one of the loveliest
scenes in the world and one of the best worth admiring.
The harbor is not only one of the safest known to navigators from all
parts of the world, affording in its hollow rock-bound cup entire
shelter from sudden storms to vessels of all burthens, large and small
crafts of every imaginable size and color, but it is in itself a bit of
landlocked water unrivalled in picturesqueness, furnishing a variety of
beautiful views at every point, and, one might almost say, at every
passing moment.
Its peculiar interest, however, depends much on the season of the year,
the brightness of the lights, the softness of the shadows, and the
picturesque character of the numberless native boats, which, with their
well-filled lateen sails, skim like white sea-birds on the surface of
the waters.
The islands of Salsette, Elephanta, and Versovah, abounding in luxuriant
vegetation, rise like huge green temples out of the bay. A great part of
its beauty, however, is derived from the singularly shaped hills that
are found in its vicinity. Old as the world, they appear to have gone
through the hands of some gigantic architect--some so exquisitely
rounded, some regularly terraced, and others, again, sharply pointed,
not unlike spires. Lifting themselves proudly above the broad glittering
sea that bathes their palm-fringed base, they help to make the scenery
distinct from that of any other bay in the world. Then, beyond question,
there is nothing to equal in grace and beauty the palm forest. The
cocoanut, the sago, the betel, the date, the wild plantain, and the
palmyra, all cluster in such profusion here and there along the seashore
that the whole seems too beautiful to be real, and you half expect to
see the island melt away like a dream before you.
While I look on from the cabin window things take clearer shape and
form. Far away is the dim outline of the mighty Ghauts, towering amid
soft fleecy-white clouds, and extending farther than the eye can reach
in the purple distance. The striking views of the adjoining mainland,
with ruins innumerable of chapels, convents, and monasteries erected by
the Portuguese conquerors, all covered with a rich tangle of tropical
foliage; the strange shapes of pagan temples, each in its own peculiar
style of architecture, Hindoo, Parsee, Jain, and Mohammedan; the noble
remains of the old Mahratta[1] forts and castles, which in former days
were the habitations of the famous Rajpoots, with a long line of native
and European palaces,--gradually unfold themselves under the golden haze
of an Indian atmosphere.
One sees in no other part of the world just such an assemblage as the
passengers on an Indian-bound steamer. In the vessel that took me to
Bombay the most touching object to my mind was a young married woman,
who was looking anxiously out for her husband, a missionary in whose
labors she was now about to share for the first time. He was weak,
haggard, and spiritless, worn out, no doubt, by his combined efforts to
acquire a foreign language, convince an obstinate people, and bear the
enervating influence of a hot, muggy climate; all of which was enough to
break down the stoutest of frames and the most hopeful of spirits that
England has ever produced. A number of officers, civil and military,
some in light-brown coats of China silk and wide-brimmed straw hats,
others in frogged blue frocks and military caps, were seen pressing
through the crowd. A young cadet just out rushed into the open arms of a
handsome officer, like himself, but older by twenty or thirty years. The
deck was being fast cleared of its eager crowd. Everywhere the
passengers were separating amid almost sad adieux, enlivened only by the
oft-repeated promises to write to each other regularly--promises which
are never fulfilled. On the great continent of Asia all nations meet and
hail each other as friends, only to part, perhaps never to meet again,
as vessels do at sea. But we were all sincere enough at the moment,
which is all that can be expected from travellers scattering over the
vast unknown land of India. I remember I was very greatly troubled
because I was about to part from a gentle, blue-eyed young friend, a
frank, bright, innocent young Scotch girl, who had become very dear to
me during the most tedious and sultry part of our voyage from Aden to
Bombay.
We were thrown a good deal together, and were almost of the same age.
One day, while passing through the Red Sea, we exchanged vows of eternal
friendship. There was on board a sprightly young officer, Ensign W----,
to whom she was already secretly betrothed. Why secretly she would not
confide to me, or perhaps explain even to herself, for every one on the
vessel knew it, and of her naturally tender and loving disposition, as
well as of her peculiarly lonely position on board, being sent out
under the charge of the captain. I only know that I shared her
happiness and her anxiety, for she would have to break the news almost
immediately to her father, whom she was expecting momentarily on board.
She informed me that her father was a widower--that she had come out to
India expressly to keep house for him in some remote inland province
somewhere in Guzerat.
At last her father appeared on board, a fat, sun-burnt, frowzy-looking
man, and inquired from the captain as to which was his daughter, in
order to assert his ownership over her. Instead of rushing to greet a
father, she shrank back and nervously clutched my arm; and it was not
strange. She had not seen him for many years; in the mean time her
mother had died, her little brothers and sisters had all died in their
infancy; she alone had survived, and had been sent home to Scotland,
where she had been educated by an aunt. Here, then, she was alone in the
presence of an almost entire stranger, although he was her father; and
this is not an isolated case, but the fate of the thousands of European
children who are born in India.
No blood-relationship avails anything in such cases. The mysterious
sanctities of a young girl's nature, be they more or less profound,
interpose themselves as barriers between father and daughter at the best
of times and under the happiest of circumstances. Those dim nooks and
corners of her budding sentiment can only be reached by a mother, so
justly called the mediator in the most ancient language of the heart.
Years after I learned that my young Scotch friend had married Ensign
W----, the young officer to whom she had engaged herself on her voyage
out to India. But in one short year after her sweet blue eyes were
closed for ever on this world. She died in giving birth to a daughter,
who sleeps side by side with her young mother in the quiet little
European burial-ground at Deesa, a British station on the confines of
the great province of Guzerat.
Very little was known about India until Alexander the Great led his
conquering army across the Punjaub (or, more properly, "Panch jeeb," or
five tongues, from the five rivers that water this portion of Northern
India) to the banks of the Hydaspes and the Hyphasis. The armies of
Alexander had hitherto visited no country which was so fertile,
populous, and abounding in the most valuable productions of nature and
art as that portion of India through which they marched. Fortunately for
the Greeks, Alexander had with him a few men who were admirably
qualified to observe and describe the country. At the mouth of the Indus
the army and fleet of Alexander parted company. The troops proceeded by
land. Nearchus took charge of the ships, sailed down the Indus, and from
its mouth, round the southern coast of Asia, to the mouth of the
Euphrates. The results of his observations during the voyage were taken
down and preserved. This expedition, undertaken 325 B .C., furnished a
vast amount of information in regard to India, its extent and wonderful
resources. Rome and most of her prosperous and civilized provinces were
also very familiar with the silks, brocades, fine muslins, gems of great
value, spices, and many other manufactures and products of the remote
East. The Latin name of rice, _Oryza sativa_, is derived from the
country, Orissa, whence the Romans first obtained it. During the
so-called Dark Ages which followed the subversion of their Western
Empire the trade with India was greatly diminished, though it never
entirely ceased in parts of Europe, especially as some of the
productions of the East had been consecrated to the services of the
Roman Catholic ritual, and have ever since continued in request with the
Christian churches of Greece and Rome. Even in the remote island of
Great Britain, and in the semi-barbaric Saxon period, some of the
precious spices and scented woods of India had been carefully treasured
by the Venerable Bede and his co-laborers in their bleak northern
monastery at Jarrow. In fact, at the very dawn of European civilization,
under the good and wise Alfred the Great, English missionaries are said
to have found their way to the coast of Malabar.
The great seat of Eastern trade was, down to the eleventh century, the
city of Constantine the Great. Amalfi, Venice, and many other
enterprising Italian republics acquired about this time great commercial
importance, owing to their Eastern trade, which they extended to Egypt
and the Persian Gulf.
In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries some of the more adventurous
Italians found their way to various parts of Hindostan. One of these,
the famous Marco Paulo, has given to the world much curious information
about the regions which lie between the Himalaya Mountains, the Indian
Ocean, and the numerous islands bordering on the Celestial Empire and on
India proper.
The first European traveller who has given us an account of the country
near the island of Bombay was an Italian friar named Odoricus, who
passed nearly a month at Tana--or more properly Thanah--where four of
his family fell victims to the intolerant spirit of the natives, and
suffered martyrdom. His narrative was published in Latin in 1330 A. D.
by William de Solanga. The first Englishman who visited the western
coast of India was Thomas Stephens, of New College, Oxford. He reached
Goa in October, 1579, and in the year 1608 Pryard de Laval mentions him
at the time as rector of a college at Salsette.
It was during the early career of the famous Zehir-ed Deen Mohammed, a
descendant of the renowned Genghis-khân, and the founder of the
so-called Mohgul dynasty, better known by his common name of Bâber, or
"the Tiger," that the Portuguese, whose maritime discoveries were
beginning to produce an important revolution in the commercial world,
succeeded in accomplishing their long-desired object of finding a
passage by the Cape of Good Hope to India. In the year 1498, just ten
months and two days after leaving the port of Lisbon, Vasco da Gama
landed on the coast of Malabar at Calicut, or more properly Kale Khoda,
"City of the Black Goddess." Calicut was at that period not only a very
ancient seaport, but an extensive territory, which, stretching along the
western coast of Southern India, reached from Bombay and the adjacent
islands to Cape Comorin. It was, at an early period, so famous for its
weaving and dyeing of cotton cloth that its name became identified with
the manufactured fabric, whence the name _calico_. The dyeing of cotton
cloths seems to have been in practice in India in very remote ages.
Pliny as early as the first century mentions in his _Natural History_
that there existed in Egypt a wonderful method of dyeing white cloth. It
is now generally admitted that this ingenious art originated in India,
and from that country found its way into Egypt. It was not till toward
the middle of the seventeenth century that calico-printing was
introduced into Europe. A knowledge of the art was acquired by some of
the servants in the service of the Dutch East India Company, and carried
to Holland, whence it was introduced in London in the year 1676.
The town of Calicut, though repeatedly burnt and destroyed by Portuguese
and Mohammedan conquerors, still stands, as it has done for many
hundreds of years, on the seashore, in a somewhat low and exposed
position, possessing neither a river nor any harbor within several
miles of it, so that ships are compelled to cast anchor five or six
miles from the landing-place, almost in mid-ocean. Its want of a
convenient harbor does not seem to have detracted from its commercial
importance. At the very beginning of the Eastern trade, when
Constantinople was attracting to itself all the commerce of the East,
Calicut was visited by vessels from Asia Minor, Egypt, and Arabia. It
was so well known to the Arabians that in the seventeenth century a
fanatical sect of Mohammedans named Moplahs immigrated to Calicut, and
entered with great success into the commercial life of the city, and
occupy in it, even to this day, a most important place, carrying on a
very profitable trade between Calicut, the Red Sea, the Persian Gulf,
and various parts of India, its chief exports being rice, cocoanut,
ginger, cardamoms, and sandal- and teak-wood. At the time of the landing
of the Portuguese, Calicut is described as a fine city, with numerous
magnificent buildings, among which a Brahmanical temple and college are
especially mentioned, so remarkable were they for their size and
architectural adornments.
It would be out of place to enter into particulars of the long struggle
that ensued, or the disgraceful acts of treachery and cruelty that
attended the conquests of the Portuguese. It will suffice to say that in
a very few years they were firmly established in the south of India.
Having possessed themselves of the large maritime city of Goa, they
formed a regular government, headed by a viceroy appointed by the king
of Portugal. They soon turned the trade of Hindostan and the Deccan into
new and more profitable channels, thus depriving the Venetians, Genoese,
and many other nations of all the advantages derived from their
long-established European commerce between the Persian Gulf, the Red
Sea, Egypt, and the Mediterranean Sea. From that time the Italians
began to decline in wealth, influence, and prosperity until the close of
the sixteenth and in the beginning of the seventeenth century, when the
English, Dutch, and French, sailing round by the Cape of Good Hope,
began to appear upon the scene. No sooner was this accomplished than the
Portuguese, who had monopolized the commerce with Europe during the
sixteenth century, lost (almost as rapidly as they had acquired it)
their immense influence in the East.
In 1585, Thomas Cavendish, one of the boldest and most adventurous
navigators in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, had accomplished
successfully a two years' voyage round the world. Among other places, he
had visited and explored the spice islands called the Moluccas, but his
discoveries resulted in no permanent benefit to the British traders. In
the year following an English expedition consisting of three vessels,
under the command of Captain Raymond, was sent out to India, but its
object was rather more warlike than commercial, as it was intended to
cruise against the Portuguese. Sickness, shipwreck, and other disasters
overtook the vessels; Captain Raymond, one of the most spirited men of
his time, was lost without even having seen the Eldorado of his dreams,
and Captain Lancaster, his second in command, returned home a sad and
almost ruined man. Francis Drake, afterward knighted by Queen Elizabeth
for his many remarkable exploits at sea, succeeded in capturing five
Portuguese vessels laden with the rich products of India. These, with
the successes of the Levant Company and the accumulating information
obtained from private sources, contributed to keep alive the excitement
and to increase to an inordinate degree the desire of English traders
and merchants for a more immediate participation in the Eastern
commerce. Nevertheless, the ambition and jealousy of the British
merchants were not fully aroused until they heard that the Dutch in
1595 had fitted out and despatched four ships to trade with India.
Then the British merchants immediately set to work. A fund was raised by
subscriptions of a number of individuals amounting to £30,133 6s. 8d., a
company was formed, and a committee of fifteen able men was elected to
manage it, which was the origin of the "East India Company." On the 31st
of December, 1600, just two hundred and eighty-four years ago, a royal
charter of privileges was granted, conditionally for fifteen years, to
the company. By means of this charter, and furnished with letters from
Queen Elizabeth to various Eastern rajahs, who were probably unconscious
of her existence, a squadron of five ships sailed on the 2d of May,
1601, from Torbay. It was placed under the command of Captain Lancaster,
the companion of the unfortunate Raymond. Fortune now appeared to favor
the brave Lancaster. The very first place which he and his crews visited
was Acheen in the island of Sumatra. Owing to the fact that Northern
Sumatra had already been repeatedly visited by European travellers,
among whom were Marco Paulo, Friar Odoricus, and Nicolo Conti, Captain
Lancaster was remarkably well received by Alaudin Shah, the then
reigning sovereign; and, to add to his good fortune, while cruising in
the Straits of Malacca he succeeded in capturing a large and
heavily-laden Portuguese vessel having on board a cargo of fine
calicoes, spices, and some of the fine gold for which Acheen was then
celebrated. Thus unexpectedly enriched, he sailed away, and, entering
the Straits of Angeer, landed at Bantam in the island of Java, where he
established an agency--the first germ of the great East India Company's
factories--and returned in safety to England in the autumn of the year
1603. For many years following the trading vessels of the East India
Company made successful voyages to many of the best-known islands in the
Indian Ocean, realizing immense profits, and returning home to enrich
the company to such an extent as to excite the jealousy of the British
government, which vainly attempted to limit the privileges of the royal
charter granted to it by Queen Elizabeth. Not many years after the
success of the company was assured by a firman of the great Mohgul
emperor, confirming to them certain privileges, and, above all,
authorizing their establishment of factories at some of the most
important ports of Hindostan.
The Dutch, who had dispossessed the Portuguese of their factory in
Amboyna, one of the largest of the spice islands in the Molucca group,
now began to regard the English traders with much jealousy. These, only
eighteen in number, had established themselves in a defenceless house in
town, trusting to the agreements and treaties they had made with the
Dutch traders. The Dutch invited them in a friendly manner to pay a
visit to their castle, fortified and garrisoned by two hundred men. The
unsuspecting English had no sooner entered the castle than they were
seized, put to the rack and torture, and ten of the number, holding out
firmly to the last, were put to death.
During the memorable conflict between Charles I. and the Parliament
nearly all foreign enterprise flagged. Distracted by the great civil war
that followed, the East India Company sank into comparative inaction.
But no sooner was the great Oliver Cromwell at the head of affairs than
he reconfirmed the privileges of the company, and gave every
encouragement to its trade; he also compelled the Dutch government to
pay the sum of £300,000, together with a grant of one of the smaller
spice islands, as some compensation to the descendants of those who
suffered in the "Amboyna massacre."
A new charter was granted to the company by Charles II. in 1661, in
which, in addition to the old privileges, new and important ones were
given to them. They were vested with the right of full civil
jurisdiction and military authority over all Europeans in their
employment, as well as with the power of making war and concluding peace
with the "infidels of India." In 1662, Charles II. married Catharine,
princess of Portugal, who brought him a million pounds sterling and
gifts of the island of Bombay and the fortress of Tangiers. In 1668, at
the request of the company, Charles sold to them for a trifling sum of
money the island of Bombay, granting to them shortly after the island of
St. Helena, an equally convenient station for their merchantmen; and at
length, induced by the defensible character of the island and its
convenient and most commodious harbor, the company transferred from
Surat to Bombay the seat of their government. Thus the island of Bombay
became the presidency over all their settlements, and from that moment
numerous Oriental nations were attracted to the island, commerce rapidly
increased, the native town began to spread, and the foundation of a
great empire in India was securely laid.
In no other part of the world are found so many races and peoples living
side by side as in the island of Bombay. In the spacious streets and
bazaars one meets Buddhists, Jains, Brahmans, Hindoos, Chinese,
Musulmans (both Persians and Arabs), Seedees or Africans,
Indo-Portuguese, Indo-Britons, Jews, Armenians, Afghans, Caucasians,
Parsees, Americans, and Europeans of all nationalities. The most
important of all these are undoubtedly the Parsees. They are as a class
the richest, most industrious, and most honorable of all the native
populations. They are the most extensive merchants and land-owners in
the island; they share largely in foreign speculation both in the
European and mercantile houses. They hold to two principles as
indispensable to their permanent success and efficiency in trade: First,
that every Parsee in any part of the Indian empire shall be subject to
the established government, whatever it may be. By this means they
diffuse a spirit of obedience and promptitude among their
co-religionists, whether in India, Persia, China, or Egypt, and are at
once able to secure the co-operation of one and every member of the
faith in any emergency that may demand the combined efforts of the
entire sect. Secondly, that every Parsee, no matter what the accident of
his birth, is the equal of his more prosperous fellow-laborers.
The island of Bombay is separated from the mainland by an arm of the
sea, and forms, in conjunction with the adjacent islands of Salsette on
the north, Colabah and Old Woman's Island on the south, a magnificent
and well-sheltered harbor. Handsome causeways raised above the sea at
high water span the narrow channels on the south, and connect Bombay
with two of the most picturesque islands I have ever seen. To the north,
Bombay is again connected with Salsette by a causeway with a fine arched
stone bridge, and yet another causeway has been thrown over the strait,
so as to connect the great India Peninsular Railway with the mainland.
Thus Bombay and the islands which surround it form a continuous
breakwater extending from north to south for several miles. Toward the
east lies the celebrated island of Elephanta; just opposite to the mouth
of the harbor lies a thickly-wooded island of little elevation, with the
exception of two remarkable projections which are shot upward almost
perpendicularly from the level of the land, called Great and Little
Caranja Hills.
One of our first drives was to the fort and town of Bombay. The latter
is situated within the fort, and is almost a mile in length from the
Apollo Gate to that of the bazaar, but hardly a quarter of a mile in
its broadest part, from the Custom-house across the great Green to what
is called Church gate. It is now called Fort George, and with its moats,
drawbridges, and gateways is still in tolerably good repair. There are
two gateways facing the beautiful harbor, having commodious wharfs and
cranes built out from each, with a fine broad stone quay or
landing-place for passengers. Passing through these gates, we visited
the famous Bombay Castle, a regular quadrangle built of hard stone. In
one of the bastions we saw a spacious reservoir for water. The
fortifications are sufficiently formidable, and are frequently repaired,
if not improved. Dungarree Hill, which commands the town, has now been
included within the fort, by which accession the seaward points of the
island are rendered extremely strong, the harbor being completely
commanded by successive ranges of batteries placed one above the other.
The Government House, a showy but a most inconvenient building, the old
church, and a spacious Maidan, or Common, are also situated within the
fort.
The rise of the tides has been found such as to admit of the
construction of docks on a truly magnificent scale. Indeed, the dry-dock
of Bombay is said to be unequalled in the East for its immense size and
convenience. It has been built with three divisions, each of which is
furnished with a pair of strong gates, so that it is capable of
receiving three ships-of-the-line at a time. This operation is generally
entrusted to Parsees, and executed with great rapidity and skill. These
docks have sprung up here since the days when the island passed into the
possession of the East India Company. Another remarkable feature of this
part of Bombay is the so-called ropewalk, which is said to be equal to
any in England (with the single exception of the king's yard at
Portsmouth). Here rope cables and every variety of lesser cordage are
manufactured in great abundance. The workmen can be seen seated under
covered awnings diligently plying their respective occupations--some
cleaning the caiah, or cocoanut-husks, others plaiting, and yet again
others twisting heavy ropes and cords.
The Bombay dockyard is also worth visiting; it is admirably contrived,
and abounds in fine stone warehouses well stocked with timber for
building and repairing vessels and ships of all kinds and sizes, with
forges, and well-instructed Parsees, who, among other qualifications,
are counted the best ship-carpenters to be found in the East. Many of
the merchantmen and ships-of-the-line in the service of the late East
India Company have been built here from time to time, and are still
built, of Malabar and Mylonghee teak-wood, which is much esteemed
throughout India. One of the most magnificent teak forests, from which
supplies of wood are obtained, lies on the north-western boundaries of
the kingdom of Siam; the other on the western side of the Ghauts and all
along the mountains lying north and east of the old Portuguese town of
Bassein. They are floated down to Bombay by means of the numerous
streams which descend from these mountain-ridges.
Another curious feature is the celebrated cotton-press, of which there
are a great many in use here--marvellous in themselves, but more
striking amid the mountains of cotton piled up waiting to be pressed
before transportation to Europe, China, and other parts of the world.
Not very far from these one comes upon a square around which cluster
most of the European warehouses and the banks, huge blocks of masonry,
dark and dismal as the tomb, impregnated with the odors of tea, coffee,
spices, and every other known Indian commodity or manufacture.
It was my first initiation to the commerce of the world to visit this
spot. Previous to this day I had hardly so much as purchased a ribbon
for myself, and could not conceive what trade really meant. But, driving
here about ten o'clock one morning, the whole scene dawned upon me with
peculiar force. The great square was thronged with a motley crowd of
dark- and white-faced foreigners, all eager, jostling, and contending
with each amid the confused hubbub of all languages and all manner of
dialects. Here were strange specimens of every nationality and every
phase of life, from the lordly English and Scotch merchants, the skilful
and assiduous Parsees, to the half-nude, wretched-looking fakeers and
beggars who haunt this spot in the hope of getting a few pice.[2]
For six hours these masses of humanity struggle, work, barter, buy and
sell, load and unload, and carry on the strangely-exciting warfare, not
of flesh and blood, but of pounds, shillings, and pence, straining every
nerve each to outdo his neighbor, to enrich himself, at great sacrifice
of life, health, and at times even of honor, in the hope of returning to
his native land to enjoy the spoils--a hope which, alas! is realized
only in rare instances.
But at four o'clock, as if by magic, the eager, bustling, jostling crowd
suddenly vanishes; the din and confusion cease. Long lines of carriages
and handsome equipages drive up to the great stone warehouses, and dash
away with their white-faced occupants. Where is now the commerce of the
world? Gone with the powerful, all-grasping white man. A silence
profound as the grave succeeds to the rush, noise, and turmoil of the
day. In less than half an hour not a human being is to be seen anywhere,
save the solitary begrimed watchmen seated here and there in dim nooks
and corners, and the armed white-faced sentinels standing grim and
silent at their posts.
On this first visit we were the last to quit the scene. Nothing ever
made so deep and, I might truly say, so depressing an impression on my
mind as the fierce and unnatural activity which pervaded this spot.
A day or two after we drove through the markets or bazaars of the
Parsees, or Fire-worshippers, and another and peculiar class of native
traders called the Borahs--the two most enterprising of the many
different peoples who occupy this island. These markets, nearly three
miles in extent, are perhaps the most picturesque in the world, composed
entirely of lofty, handsome Oriental houses, with projecting lattice
windows and wooden balconies elaborately carved and hung in many places
with rich tapestries. The upper stories of the houses are the dwellings
of the merchants and their families; the lower portions are given up to
stalls, shops, and alcoves where the most delicate fabrics and the most
exquisite work of all kinds are manufactured by native artisans--boxes,
fans, drinking-cups carved out of cocoanut-shells, with stools, tables,
chairs, and other articles of furniture for the homes of European
residents, as well as for exportation. Here are made kinkaubs, or cloths
of gold; mulmuls, or muslins, of such transparent texture as to be
called "running waters;" and many other articles are wrought out here by
half-nude, savage-looking men and women with tools of the rudest and
most primitive kind. Nearly all the Oriental work done here, though very
beautiful and delicate of its kind, is imitative, and it lacks that
freedom and diversity so peculiar to European manufacture.
The street that Europeans most visit in this quarter, and the best worth
seeing for its unmixed and purely Oriental character, is called the
"Bhendee Bazaar." It abounds in the queerest and most picturesque
sights--solemn merchants, turbaned and with long flowing robes, seated
cross-legged in their dens smoking long hookas; native women, handsomely
dressed, in a variety of costumes, and half-nude beggars, who seem to
beg for fun or for a wager; cripples, vagabonds; coolies with great
heavy burdens on their backs, beneath which head and shoulders have
disappeared, and only two bare legs can be seen struggling along amid
the crowd; peddlers yelling like fiends; turbaned Mohammedans; Hindoo
and Parsee ladies closely veiled, either on foot or in draped carriages
drawn by milk-white bullocks instead of horses; indolent loungers
sleeping in the shade; dogs yelping and native soldiers crushing through
this great crowded aisle of the Bhendee Bazaar. It is not only full of
everything Oriental, but everything Occidental, even to the idols so
largely manufactured in Europe for the Indian markets--from the
costliest gems from the mines of Punnah and Golconda to the commonest
English prints; and since the introduction of free trade one can
absolutely purchase English goods cheaper in this market than in the
cities where they are manufactured.
After visiting Bhendee we came one day upon a most interesting portion
of the bazaar, the Arabian horse-markets. Long lines of stables stretch
along for some distance, making a noble display of goodly Arabian
steeds. These splendid high-bred creatures are greatly esteemed by the
native traders, nawabs, and princes, as well as by the rich English
merchants, and often bring fabulous prices. It was very pleasant to go
through these stables and see the care and attention bestowed upon the
horses by the native grooms, who, while washing, feeding, and rubbing
them down, talk to them as if they were children. Our Hindoo _scyce_, or
groom, while grooming his horse always told him everything that had
happened to him during his absence on the previous evening, opening the
conversation with, "Kaisah hai paiyarah?--How art thou, beloved?"
Not far off there is a less picturesque but much more densely-crowded
market called the "Chine Bazaar." It runs along the filthiest part of
the city, and leads to a stone pier devoted to the native population and
to the loading and unloading of native craft and vessels. The people who
inhabit this part of the city are chiefly Lascars, or native sailors,
and foreigners from different parts of the East. On any day and at any
hour one may see what seems the entire produce of the East piled on this
stone wharf; merchandise and mankind are in great masses here. Every
inch of ground is thronged with moving forms, presenting a wild
masquerade of extravagant dress and of the most perfect undress.
Everywhere there is more filth and dirt than is possible to conceive at
first sight; odors of ghee, or clarified butter, and fish in every stage
of decomposition, assail you amid all manner of deafening sounds.
On one occasion, when visiting this part of Bombay, I saw the landing of
some pilgrims from Mecca--a dirty, ill-looking set of men, but the
moment they touched land the crowd was hushed; they walked in file
counting their beads through the parted crowds, who almost to a man
salââmed in abject reverence to the holy strangers.
I also saw some beautiful girls landed here, and that they were slaves,
brought for private sale among the rich natives, I could not doubt. I
afterward learned that women were brought here every year, and disposed
of privately to fill the hareems of the rich Musulman merchants in spite
of British laws. Riding through these bazaars, it has impressed me that
whatever Great Britain might do for the improvement of the island of
Bambâ Dèvi in the way of governing it, it would take very many centuries
before she could destroy its purely Oriental character.
At one time a very curious organization existed in Bombay for upward of
thirty years, consisting of a body of forty or more individuals who
bound themselves into a sort of secret society, the sole object of which
was systematic plunder. This society had in its employment about three
hundred men as subordinates, instructed to receive goods stolen from the
merchants' ships. The harbor was the chief scene of their secret
operations. Here those of the members who were on duty were ordered to
distribute themselves at the various wharves and piers, whence boats
went off to ships either when loading or unloading. These employés of
the secret society either detained the boats' crews in conversation, and
thus purloined goods, or hired themselves for a very low sum of money to
work with them for the night. In this way they managed to drop into the
water or into another and confederate boat some of the goods
surreptitiously obtained. The plunder was then conveyed openly to the
shore, and sold by auction next morning, without any attempt at
concealment, so far as the natives were concerned; and as few Europeans
frequented this part of the native town, they had no fear of detection.
It is said that the books of this robber society were scrupulously kept,
the division of the profits made with strict honesty, and, what is more
remarkable still, two shares of the profits were bestowed on charitable
institutions among the various tribes and castes of Bombay. It was not
until the year 1843 that this secret robber society was detected in some
wholesale plunder; the chiefs concerned in it were brought to justice
and the whole thing broken up.
The late East India Company, in order to protect the trade of the
country against such societies, as well as against the hordes of pirates
who have ever since the days of Alexander the Great infested the western
coast of India, found it necessary to maintain an armed marine force.
Not far from the extreme point of the Oriental bazaars, so full of
mystery, romance, and dirt, is a spot I have often visited, called
Colabah--more properly Kaláaba, or Black Water--where the sea is of the
deepest blue, and where an entirely different picture is presented to
the eye. Bungalows, as the better class of Indian houses are called,
with broad, open, and shady verandahs, each with its beautifully kept
garden, stretch along this promontory, making a charming scene. These
are the residences of some of the wealthiest inhabitants of the island.
Bright, airy-looking dwellings, nestling amid the most graceful
evergreen foliage, and standing as they do between two bays, they occupy
the most beautiful spot in Bombay.
At the extreme end of this promontory are the European barracks, built
with reference to the exigencies of the climate and replete with comfort
for the British soldiers and their officers. It is really both pleasing
and interesting to see that these are well cared for in this foreign
land; but the curiosity and charm born in the native parts of the
island, and especially in the bazaars, lessen by sure degrees as you see
your countrymen quietly and comfortably established in a spot with which
they seem so out of harmony in form and color. On the southern extremity
of Colabah is the lighthouse, a graceful circular building standing on a
desolate rock which stretches far into the sea and commands the entrance
to the fort. It rises from the sea-level one hundred and fifty feet,
flashing its light to the distance of twenty-one miles. I remember going
to the top of it one moonlight night. We remained there two or three
hours, and saw the moon rise higher and higher, silently scattering the
deep shadows one by one, revealing the half-hidden beauties of that
strange shore; and at length, when she climbed over head and looked down
in the full splendor of her light, the mountain-ridges, feathered with
wavy palms, the glimmering peaks and spires of the land, were all
magnificently pictured in richest and softest colors in the polished
mirror of the sea.
The "Maidan," or Plain, is a fine esplanade in front of the fort. Here
passing European officers, and those Europeans who are obliged by
business or any other circumstance to live within the fort during the
cool months, erect bungalows; some of these are remarkably elegant
buildings, but wholly unfit to resist the violence of the monsoon. At
the moment that the early showers of rain announce the wet season these
temporary homes vanish and their place is very soon occupied by a vast
sheet of water. The Esplanade serves to separate the European from the
native part of the island, the latter being vulgarly called the "Black
Town."
Toward the north of the island are scattered many picturesque and
thriving villages amid native groves of mangoes, palms, and fine timber
trees, cities of the dead, and some very interesting ruined portions
once occupied by the Portuguese conquerors.
The village of Girgaum, to the south of the island, is, however, the
most picturesque and most densely populated of all these native
settlements. No other part of the island is so fascinating as night
approaches. A blaze of light flashing on the surface of huge reservoirs
of water, on citron- and orange-groves, flooding flagged courtyards
surrounded with blooming tropical fruits and flowers, the brilliant
colors and varieties of dress of the numerous attendants, male and
female, together with the groups formed by different parties arriving or
departing, with the sounds of all kinds of music and midnight
revelry,--altogether formed a _coup d'oeil_ which I can never forget,
and which can be only seen in a tropical climate. Parts of this village,
I am told, are entirely given up to the dissipated and pleasure-seeking
youths who may happen to be beguiled by these outward appearances. It
presents a very different aspect in the morning light; the cottages amid
its palm-groves look so quiet and secluded that it is still more
attractive. In some parts there are vast plantations of cocoanut trees,
with the neat little huts, here and there, of native planters stretching
toward a portion of the island called the Back Bay.
Lying on the opposite side of the palm-groves of Mazagaum, a fishing
village, about an hour's drive over a beautiful strand brings us to an
interesting spot called Breach Candy. On our way, especially in the
afternoon, we meet carriages full of handsome Parsee ladies, generally
brilliantly attired in their peculiar costumes, surrounded by numbers of
happy-looking children, taking their evening airing. Grand mohguls and
nabobs, driving out in magnificent European equipages, drawn by two and
not infrequently by four spirited Arabian horses, pass rapidly by. At
length, leaving the grand and princely occupants of all these brilliant
equipages, we arrive at a spot desolate and yet peaceful beyond
description--the cemeteries of the dead of all peoples and all creeds.
No sound is heard. One solitary Hindoo, robed in pure white, with his
bare shaved head, is praying over a smouldering spot covered with hot
ashes, which shows signs of a body having been recently burned there.
These graves are separated, it is true, but hardly distinguishable from
one another. Desolate homes of the dead, we cannot tell which are
Christian and which pagan. All sleep quietly in the same dust. But kind
nature has decked them in tender living green, with here and there a
beautiful wild flower, while the ever-encroaching sea washes away every
year, bit by bit, the tombs of Hindoo, Moslem, Jain, Buddhist, and
Christian alike.
There is one place that one should not miss seeing in Bombay, and that
is the Pinjrapoore, or the Jain hospital for animals. It is one of the
most peculiarly Oriental institutions in the East, and the largest to be
found in India--pagan in everything, even in that disposition which has
become almost a natural instinct to the Hindoos, the Buddhists, and the
Jains,[3] to feel respect not alone for what is stronger and more
beautiful than themselves, but for what is weaker and more helpless, and
even hideous. The Pinjrapoore is situated in one of the most
densely-populated portions of the native town.
We were conducted by two very civil men, low-caste Jains, into what
appeared a large courtyard. A number of low sheds and several other
courts ran all round it. I must confess I was greatly disappointed in
the appearance of the building itself; it was mean and wretchedly
dirty. But as for the aspect of the inmates, it was at once both
ludicrous and pathetic. I felt inclined to laugh and cry by turns. Never
was such a medley of sick and aged animals seen anywhere else. A number
of sick oxen were undergoing treatment at the hands of several native
physicians who live near the hospital, and whose sole care is to attend
to its inmates. One poor old, lean cow was having her leg dressed, and
she seemed to be pretty conscious of the physician's kind intentions,
for she stood perfectly still and quiet during the operation, which must
have lasted an hour at least. The other aged and sick cattle, some
blind, others scarred, not a few with bandages over their eyes or with
halting steps, presented a singularly pathetic sight. We passed into
several small courtyards where cats and dogs and many aged greyhounds
find a pleasant home. Some of these were old and infirm to such a degree
that it was painful to look at them. One big dog was pointed out to me
by one of the men as the "bura kahnah wallah," one who delighted in big
dinners; they certainly did not aid in fattening him, for he was the
leanest creature I have ever seen.
The monkey part of the hospital was the most entertaining. A big ape
supported itself on crutches; another sick inmate was lying stretched
full length on the floor, gazing most piteously into the keeper's face.
It seemed to be an object of deep interest to all the other monkeys, who
clustered around it. The native doctor shook his head solemnly, and if
it had been a human being he could not have said more tenderly,
"Bachara! bachara! whoo murta hai" ("Poor thing! poor thing! she is
dying"). Almost all of the infirm inmates looked on their dying comrade
with peculiar intelligence in their faces, as if they had a sort of
vague idea of what was happening. As I looked on, I could not doubt but
that each one had somehow divined the meaning of the doctor's
foreboding shake of the head.
In these compartments were collected, as it almost seemed, every known
quadruped and biped on the face of the globe. Old elephants, dilapidated
buffaloes, deplumed ravens, vultures, and buzzards hobnobbed together
with gray-bearded goats and most foolish-looking old rams; rats, mice,
rabbits, hens, herons, lame ducks, forlorn old cocks, and sparrows,
jackals, old owls, and geese, live here in harmony side by side. I have
been shown through palaces which interested me less.
We waited to see this curious medley of inmates dine. When the food
which suited each class was being conveyed by a band of attendant boys
to their various pens, troughs, etc., the noise and confusion were
deafening. The monkeys in particular, with the peacocks--birds the most
sacred to the Hindoos and Jains--raised such a howl and were so
importunate to be served first that we were glad to escape. Such is the
extreme limit to which Oriental charity is carried. At first sight it
seemed absurd beyond words.
Nevertheless, there is something very noble and touching about this
"infirmary" for the brute creation. Every one who finds any animal
wounded, sick, aged, or dying is authorized to bring it here, and here
it is really well cared for until death comes to relieve it from all
suffering. Who can estimate the power of an institution that is
continually caring for the dumb mutes of the animal kingdom, who bear
not only man's burdens, but his harshness and neglect, with the patience
of almost sanctified beings?
In my first week in Bombay I received an invitation to a grand
dinner-party to be given at the house of a rich East Indian lady, a Mrs.
C----, the widow of what is called in British India an uncovenanted
officer. So great is the prestige attached to the word "officer" in the
East that every man is an officer of some sort or other, from the
brigadier to the private soldier. A civilian, consequently, is an
uncovenanted officer, and as for the merchants, they are Mohguls,
nabobs, Badishas, or Kudawunds. Mrs. C----'s house was situated near
Parel, formerly "Nonpareil," a most lovely part of the island. Our
carriage drove through a long wide avenue of fine trees, and brought us
before a large one-storied stone building, pillared and with a spacious
flight of stone steps leading to it. On the steps were half a dozen
handsomely-dressed servants in long flowing white robes called
"angrakas," crimson-and-gold striped turbans, and bright blue-and-gold
cumberbunds, or scarfs, folded round their waists; the effect was
certainly striking. These salââmed to us, and with stately dignity
advanced and helped us to alight. We were then shown by another band of
ushers, magnificently dressed, into a sumptuously furnished apartment,
where we laid aside our light wrappings. A fresh troop of dusky-hued,
richly-draped, and turbaned individuals marshalled us into the grand
drawing-room, where we found the rich widow seated on a yellow satin
ottoman surrounded by a bevy of ladies and gentlemen. The ladies all
wore low-necked dresses of the most exquisitely delicate Indian fabrics,
Chinese crapes, gauzes, mulmuls, and silks; and some of them were young
and beautiful.
At dinner numbers of dusky-hued attendants moved about us so softly that
they did not seem to touch the floor with their feet; gliding
noiselessly in and out, offering us costly viands and sparkling wines,
laying down plates and removing them so dexterously as not to make the
faintest sound, they seemed even to repress their breathing. Everything
was done with magical effect. The punkahs overhead moved softly to and
fro; the light fell from cocoanut-oil chandeliers in peculiarly
softened splendor on the rare flowers, the glass, and the silver below.
Everything went on with the ease and precision of clockwork, without the
faintest echo of a click or sound. Even those domestics who did not wait
at dinner-table stood with arms folded across their breasts under the
shadows of doors or pillars, waiting their turn to serve, and so still
and motionless were they that they might almost, save for the glitter in
their eyes, have passed for bronze statues.
They impressed me very unpleasantly, and that in spite of all the
laughter and merriment, the exaltation of British power and British
supremacy in India. I had, somehow, a feeling of reserved force
pervading those mute, motionless figures around us, and I involuntarily
felt, for the first time, that it was a very solemn affair for the
Briton to be in India luxuriating on her soil and on her spoils.
With those dark, restless eyes watching every turn, motion, and
expression of our faces, in vain were the delicious coffee and the
sumptuous dinner, the music of the fountains playing before each window.
I was anxious to escape. If I laughed or talked or moved, those dark
eyes seemed to observe me, even when they were seemingly fixed on
vacancy. If I had dared, I believe I should have risen and gone away.
But of course this would have been a shocking breach of etiquette, so I
sat still, hushing secret perturbations and longing for dinner to end.
The conversation continued in a lively strain. I noticed that every one
seemed to have a pet theory about home government and how it could best
be administered; all of which I was then too young to comprehend, but I
did comprehend, and that very painfully, that no one seemed to mind
those dark, silent, stationary figures any more than if they had been
hewn out of stone. On coming out of that house I drew a long deep sigh
of relief and felt just as if I had escaped from some imminent danger.
There are no less than three government residences in the island of
Bombay. One is within the walls of the fort, used for holding special
meetings of the council durbars, or assemblies, and for various other
public business. It has little or no architectural beauty, and looks
more like a stadthouse in a German free city. The one at Malabar Point
is a charming English cottage, situated on a rocky and well-wooded
promontory, commanding a beautiful view of the sea, and is often washed
by the sea-spray during stormy weather. The third is at Parel--a
magnificent building, said to have been founded on the remains of an old
Jesuit college which flourished here during the Portuguese supremacy in
India. It was bought by a Parsee, from whom it was purchased by the East
India government about a century ago and fitted up in its present style.
A noble flight of stone steps leads to the entrance-hall, whence a fine
staircase opens into two of the most spacious rooms I have ever seen in
Bombay, about eighty feet long, one above the other, and each very
handsomely furnished. It commands a fine view of the town and harbor.
There is a curious rock at the extreme point of Malabar Hill which is
very difficult to approach at high tide. Here are the remains of an
ancient Hindoo temple, and a hole famous as a place of resort for Hindoo
devotees, who endure great hardships in order to get access to the hole
and pass through it, believing that in doing so they are regenerated,
born again, and purified from all their sins.
[Illustration: BANYAN TREE.]
Among the places worth attention in the neighborhood of Bombay are
Byculla and Mazagaum. The former has a fine English school-house for all
classes of children. It is placed under the supervision of a number of
English ladies of high rank, who take turns in visiting it.
Mazagaum is a very old part of the island of Bombay, formerly a fishing
village, which its name indicates, but now a densely-populated town,
inhabited chiefly by the descendants of the early Portuguese settlers.
The Roman Catholic church here is a most venerable and picturesque
building, standing under the shadow of great forest trees. Their foliage
is certainly magnificent beyond description. The mango, the tamarind,
the graceful peepul, and the banyan attain great height and breadth, and
are covered with marvellous specimens of huge parasitic creepers and
plants forming miles of sheltered walks. The fruit-bearing trees come to
great perfection here. But with all its beauty the spot is considered so
unhealthy that it is often called the "white man's grave."
I have seldom seen a pleasanter sight than that which is presented at
Mazagaum on every Sunday morning in the year, when the whole native
Christian population turns out to church almost simultaneously. The
streets are filled with handsome women and children. The women in their
long flowing mantles and costumes, half Hindoo and half European, are
very picturesque. But the men and boys present an appearance at once
both grotesque and ludicrous. Most of them are dressed as Europeans, and
not a few as English and Portuguese generals; gold lace, plumed hats,
helmets, and striped pantaloons are the prevailing fashion. They seem to
have no idea of the fitness of things. Their passion for European dress
is carried to such an extreme that I have seen a native[4] Portuguese
sailing down the lane without any shoes on his feet, but sporting the
military dress, with the cocked hat and feathers, of some English
general. This love of dress is exceedingly queer, but it is quite as
much a characteristic of the Portuguese men of education and culture in
India as of the more ignorant and illiterate.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The name Mahratta is applied to all the Indo-European races who
dwell in that portion of India extending from the Arabian Sea on the
west to the Satpura Mountains in the north, to which in ancient times
was given the Sanskrit name of Maharashtra, or "the good country." The
Mahrattas are Hindoos, divided like them into four castes--the Brahmans,
priests and professors; the Kumbis, cultivators of the soil; the
Rajpoots, or warriors; and the Sudras, or menials. The Mahratta Brahmans
are remarkable for the high physical, intellectual, and moral qualities
of that caste. Their language, a fine sonorous and flexible tongue, is a
dialect of the Sanskrit, called Mahratti.
[2] Pieces of money each of the value of one-fourth of a penny.
[3] The Jains, a very curious sect found in India proper to-day, and
known only to the learned in Europe as the sole representatives in
Hindostan of the once-numerous adherents to the tenets of Buddhism in
that region, hold an intermediate place between Buddhists and Brahmans,
but approach more closely to the Buddhists. They hold that Mahavira the
hero, their greatest teacher, and the last of a number of deified
spiritual legislators called by them Tirthankaras, was the preceptor of
the great Gautama, the Buddha, whose followers embrace nearly
three-fourths of the human race even to-day. They have, like the
Brahmans, castes, and abstain most rigorously from flesh of all kinds.
But, on the other hand, like the Buddhists of Siam, Burmah, Japan, etc.,
they disavow the sacredness of the Vèdas and the Hindoo gods, but in
their place worship twenty-four sanctified legislators or Tirthankaras.
[4] The descendants of the early Portuguese settlers who have
intermarried with the Hindoos and other castes of India, and now form a
very large portion of the population of Bombay and Goa.