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