One of the first things that attracted our attention on landing was the
motley appearance of the people on the quay.
There were the Europeans, some in black frock coat and pot hat--a
ridiculous costume for a hot climate--others more sensibly clad in white
linen suits and pith helmets. But when we turned to the coloured people
who formed the larger proportion of the loiterers, we found ourselves at
a loss to say how many different nationalities they represented, and
certainly did not know which to pick out as the representatives of the
native African.
They were of all colours and all garbs, from the simple costume of rags
which distinguishes the Hottentot loafer to the gorgeous silk robes of
the Malay priest. It was not till we had been in the colony some time
that we were able to distinguish from one another the Kafir and the
negro from the west coast and the Hottentot and the Malay.
Having passed our baggage through the custom-house at the entrance to
the dock, we took a cab, a regular London hansom with a Malay driver,
and drove along a white dusty road to the town, distant a mile from the
docks. As is the case on going behind the scenes of a theatre, much of
the beauty that had impressed us from the sea disappeared when we came
to the town itself. The houses, which had looked spotlessly white and
very pretty from the steamer, we found to be little, old-fashioned,
square, tumbledown edifices, evidently some of the original Dutch
homesteads.
Presently, however, we came to a handsome street of fine stores, and an
imposing railroad station, and, rounding the market square, a large
rectangular piece of open land in the middle of the town, drove up to
the Royal Hotel, where we were received by the proprietor and wife, who
were Germans, and made very comfortable. As soon as we had rested, Eva
and I sallied forth to view the town.
Our first impression of Cape Town, with its sixty thousand inhabitants,
black and white, was that it was composed principally of old-fashioned
Dutch houses with individual steps, so that the pedestrian had the
choice of either dancing up and down the steps or walking in the middle
of the road. We found that although the older houses preponderated,
there were several streets of handsome residences. The streets were
actually dirtier than those of New York.
The principal business streets run parallel with each other from the sea
to the mountain, and are crossed at right angles by narrower streets.
On Adderley Street, which is the Broadway of Cape Town, are the elegant
Standard Bank Building, the Commercial Exchange and Reading-room, and,
at the further end, the large Dutch Reformed Church, which is the church
found in every town in Africa. There are many other imposing buildings,
beautifully decorated and built with all the modern improvements
architecture can offer. Adjoining Adderley Street is Saint George's
Street, with the towering Saint George's Cathedral rising at the end of
the street; here are to be found the Post-office, club-houses, banks,
and the leading newspaper office, the Cape _Times_. Branching off of
these streets, the old-fashioned Dutch mansions of the early settlers
may be seen.
They are situated in the midst of beautiful grounds overrun with
tropical vines and flowers. Near by are the charming modern English
villas and cottages. But the most beautiful and admired suburban houses
are to be found at Rondebosch, Wynberg, and Constantia, on the east side
of Table Mountain, connected by railway with Cape Town; they lie at an
elevation from the town and are delightfully cool during the summer
months. A drive through the groves of grand old pine and oak trees,
with a glimpse of mountain, precipice and sea, beautiful houses on
terraced heights, with vineyards beyond, is a delightful event; these
features make it a veritable paradise, not imagined by the English
traveller; instead of hot, dry, sandy Africa, we have here majestic
scenery, dense forests with a wild beauty of their own, and an
atmosphere so clear that every object is distinctly revealed. There is
a quaint old castle down by the sea, originally erected by the Dutch,
who founded the town about 1650. It is square and podgy, like the
pictures we have seen of its founders. The Dutch built many forts along
the base of the mountain, possibly to keep off the wild beasts that used
to prowl about the back windows of His Excellency, the Governor; these
forts lie in ruins.
At the upper end of the town are the Public Gardens, a kind of half
park, half Botanical Gardens, and a very pleasant, shady, sleepy,
restful place it is, in which to spend an hour on a hot afternoon.
There is also a capital museum, full of curiosities, and a handsome
public library, containing over forty thousand volumes and all the
leading English periodicals of the day.
The House of Parliament is a fine building, and the legislators are
Dutch, English, Scotch, Irish, everything but American. The Government
house is situated in the midst of beautiful grounds facing the Botanical
Gardens, and is a long, low building covering much ground. We attended
an afternoon reception there. The guests, after being presented to the
Governor and his wife, passed through the rooms into the large,
park-like grounds, where some of the musicians of a Highland regiment,
dressed in the Scotch dress, were playing on the bagpipes. Some people
call it music; it may be music in the Highlands.
A second military band was stationed in another part of the grounds.
The gathering was a distinguished one; the ladies displayed great taste
in their toilets, making the scene appear quite like an English garden
party. But the interest of the traveller is not in the pale-faced
colonist, but in the dusky, many-hued, coloured inhabitants.
The Malays, although originally coming from the Malay Peninsula in Asia,
are natives of Cape Town and have been there for several generations,
being the descendants of the former slaves of the Dutch East India
Company and its servants. They seem to have retained all their national
characteristics and are as distinct from the Hottentot and the Kafirs as
is the white man. They are peculiarly a feature of Cape Town, being
seldom met elsewhere in the country, except in small numbers at Port
Elizabeth; they have adopted Dutch, the language of the old colonists,
as their tongue, are generally strict Mohammedans and sober, clever
mechanics. They are as noticeable in the town as on the quay. The
picturesque, dusky-coloured Malay woman, with her really beautiful
features, her rich-coloured, full skirts hanging straight from the
waist, and containing from fifteen to eighteen yards of material, and
her bright red, yellow and variegated silk handkerchiefs tied around the
head and shoulders, looks like a gorgeous balloon sailing down the
street in the wind. The balloon, however, is kept to earth by wooden
sandals, held to the foot by a wooden peg between the big and second
toes, which make a clattering noise as she walks along the street.
She is generally loaded down with gold and silver ornaments; her whole
person is scrupulously neat and clean. The Malay women are the
washerwomen and upper servants of the household.
The men dress in blue cloth coat and trousers, coloured vests, a
bright-hued handkerchief around the neck, and a huge straw hat. They
drive cabs, sell fruit and fish, and are waiters at hotel tables. The
opinion they have of themselves is not to be crushed out by anything a
colonist may have to say to them, and it is best for the newcomer to let
them alone.
Then the Mohammedan grandee is interesting, with his finely chiselled
features and tall form robed in a long, coloured, embroidered silk and
satin gown of great value, whilst round his head, wound in graceful
folds, is a soft white scarf of the finest cambric. The costume of the
coolie woman from India, who sells fruit, is a picture; it consists of
bright-hued handkerchiefs draped in the shape of a divided skirt on her
small figure, a low-necked, sleeveless waist, over which is thrown a
velvet low-necked, sleeveless jacket, cut short under the arms, trimmed
with golden braid and dangling ornaments. Her small bare ankles are
ornamented with solid silver anklets; bangles are on her arms above the
elbow; there is a gold ring through the nose, and earrings around the
edges of the ears. The rings adorn a dusky face, which has eyes that
reflect the warmth of the atmosphere and is crowned by a wealth of
jet-black hair, glossy as the raven's wing. The whole makes a picture
for the painter's brush.
The holy woman who has made a pilgrimage to Mecca is seen with her head
and face covered, leaving only the eyes free to gaze upon the things of
the world. These odd people, through their contrast to the quiet
Dutchman, make the town look as if in holiday attire.