Notes of an Overland Journey Through France and Egypt to Bombay by Miss Emma Roberts
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Miss Emma Roberts >> Notes of an Overland Journey Through France and Egypt to Bombay
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We are proud of our virtues, not unjustly giving ourselves credit for
many that elevate and refine the human character; but even the most
solid and the most dazzling can scarcely compensate for that one
universal sin, that want of charity, which leads English people
upon all occasions to undervalue and disparage their most intimate
acquaintance. How few will scruple to point out to others the follies
and foibles of their dearest friends, weaknesses which they have
discovered during long and familiar intercourse; and how few will
hesitate to impute the very worst motives for actions which may spring
from a laudable source, or be merely the result of thoughtlessness!
In our most Christian country, the spirit of the Christian religion is
still to be sought, and until we see stronger proofs of its influence
than can at present be shown throughout the United Kingdom, we must
not single out a remote colony as a specimen of the indulgence of a
vice common to us all.
The great evil, which Bombay must share with other communities
similarly constituted, is the want of family ties, and the consequent
loss of all the gentle affections which spring amid a wide domestic
circle. Neither the very old nor the very young are to be found in an
Indian colony; there are few connecting links to bind the sojourners
of a foreign land together; each has a separate interest, and the
result is seen in a general want of sympathy; no one seems to enter
into the views, feelings, hopes, or objects of another. I employ
the word _seems_, since, as a stranger, I can only give my first
impressions upon the subject.
The style of living is more easily described, and its relative
advantages determined. The Anglo-Indian residents of Bombay are,
for the most part, scattered all over the island, living in very
comfortable houses, of no great pretensions to exterior elegance,
yet having for the most part an air of home enjoyment, which suggests
pleasing ideas. One feature is very striking, the porticoes and
verandahs of many being completely covered with luxuriant flowering
creepers, which in Bengal are never suffered to be near the house, in
consequence of the harbour they are supposed to give to insects
and reptiles. The approach to these beautiful screens is, however,
frequently through a cabbage-garden, the expedience of planting out
the unsightly but useful vegetables destined for the kitchen not
having been as yet considered; neither can the gardens at this period
of the year, the cold season, compare with those of Bengal, the
expense of irrigation preventing the inhabitants from devoting so much
time and attention to their improvement, while as yet the natives
have not been encouraged to fill the bazaars with European vegetables.
Pease are spoken of as not being uncommon, but I have only seen them
once, even at the best tables. Neither have cauliflowers, French
beans, or asparagus, made their appearance--vegetables common at
Christmas all over the Bengal presidency.
The interiors of the houses are, generally speaking, more embellished
than those of Calcutta; the greater part have handsome ceilings, and
the doorways and windows are decorated with mouldings, and otherwise
better finished. The walls also are coloured, and often very
tastefully picked out with white or some other harmonizing tint. The
reception-rooms, therefore, have not the barn-like air which detracts
from the magnitude of those of Bengal, and the furniture, if not
always equally splendid, is shown off to greater advantage; but here I
should say the superiority ends.
Some of the small bungalows are very neatly fitted up with boarded
ceilings, a great improvement upon the cloth which conceals the
rafters in those of Bengal; others, however, are canopied with
cloth, and some there are which appear more like summer-houses
than habitations intended for Europeans throughout the year, being
destitute of glass windows, and open to all the winds of heaven.
The frequent changes of the atmosphere which occur in Bombay, and
the danger of a touch of the land-wind, render the absence of glass
windows a very serious evil; they are, however, unknown in the
temporary bungalows erected upon the Esplanade, which seem to be
favourite residences of people who could lodge themselves more
substantially if they pleased. The barn-like thatched roofs of these
dwellings make them rather unsightly objects, though some are redeemed
by a thick drapery of creepers; but the interiors of many are of a
very pavilion-like description, and the singularity of all renders
them interesting to a stranger.
These houses usually consist of two or more principal apartments,
united with each other by means of verandahs, and formed chiefly
of wooden frame-work panelled with canvas, with here and there a
partition of wattle and dab. They have generally large porticoes of
trellice-work in front, sufficiently spacious to allow a carriage to
drive under them, which is thus screened from the sun; these porticoes
being mantled with flowering creepers of many beautiful kinds. A sort
of garden is also formed by plants in tubs, and there is sometimes a
cultivated oval or circular space, which, in such a climate, a very
few weeks will render luxuriant. The fronts of these bungalows
face the sea, and have all the benefit of its breezes, while the
intervening space between the fort forms the parade-ground of the
garrison, and the most esteemed evening drive.
Those who inhabit these bungalows, and who do not rise before the sun,
are subjected to all the inconveniences attending upon field practice,
the firing of musquetry and the war of cannon close to their ears, and
though favourite residences, they seem better suited to persons well
accustomed to all the vicissitudes of Anglo-Indian life than to a
stranger. For my own part, I confess a prejudice in favour of brick
and mortar, glass windows, and chimneys; and though perfectly content,
while travelling, to put up with any accommodation that may offer,
would never willingly settle down for a season in a mansion of canvas,
mat, and bamboo, where the rats have free ingress, and the atmosphere
is filled with innumerable winged insects.
Before the general setting-in of the rains, these bungalows, I am
informed, assume a very damp and tatterdemalion appearance, and when
the skies open their flood-gates, they are obliged to be taken down
and warehoused until the following year. Some of these bungalows are
private property, others are erected by the natives and let to
their tenants at a monthly rent. In some, the sleeping and sitting
apartments are under different roofs; all have a considerable piece of
ground enclosed round them, the allotments to each party being made by
Government, and appertaining to certain appointments in the service.
Beyond these bungalows is the encamping ground, in which certain
temporary sojourners in Bombay either pitch or hire a tent or tents,
the accommodation differing according to the expense incurred. The
superior tents--such, for instance, as that engaged by the late
admiral--are spacious and convenient; a handsome suite of apartments,
consisting of ante-room, drawing-room, and dining-room, partitioned
off by canvas curtains, which could be rolled up at pleasure, were
lighted by chandeliers suspended from the cross-poles and girandoles
against those that supported the roof; the walls were handsomely
lined, the floors covered with thick mats and carpets; nothing being
wanted to render this canvas dwelling equal in comfort and elegance to
the tents of Bengal, excepting glass doors.
The weather, during the cold season in this part of India, is not
nearly so inclement as in Calcutta and the north-western provinces;
nevertheless, it is very desirable to shut out the keen and cutting
wind, which frequently blows during the night. The people here,
however, seem fond of living in tents, and it often happens that
gentlemen especially, who have had good houses of their own over their
heads, go to very considerable expense for the purpose of enjoying the
free air of a camp.
I had an opportunity of seeing the facility and despatch with which
such a change of residence is managed in Bombay. Driving one evening
round the foot of a conical hill overlooking the sea, we met a party
of gentlemen who said that they were looking out for a good place to
pitch their tents, and invited us to dine with them on the following
evening at seven o'clock. As the hill was in our neighbourhood, we
ascertained at eleven o'clock the next morning that there was not a
symptom of habitation upon it; however, we were determined to keep our
engagement, and accordingly arrived at the appointed hour at the point
of the road at which a rude pathway opened.
It was perfectly dark, but we found the place indicated by a cluster
of lamps hanging like a bunch of grapes from a tree; a palanquin was
also in waiting to carry the ladies up the hill in turn. I preferred
walking; and though my shoes and the hem of my gown were covered with
prickles and thorns, which interweaved themselves in an extraordinary
manner through a satin dress, I enjoyed the walk amazingly. A man
with a lanthorn led the way, a precaution always taken in Bombay, on
account of the alleged multitude of the snakes, and at every three or
four yards' distance, another cluster of lamps suspended from a tree
pointed out the way.
In a few minutes we arrived at a platform of table-land on the summit
of the hill, prettily sprinkled with palm-trees, and came upon a scene
full of life, picture, and movement. The white outline of the smaller
tents had a sort of phantom look in the ambiguous light, but the open
doors of the principal one showed a strong illumination. A table,
which we might have supposed to be raised by the hand of an enchanter,
gleaming with silver, cut glass, and wax candles, was absolutely
framed in by the darkness around. Two or three horses picketed under
the trees with their grooms, cowering over fires made upon the ground,
looked very like unearthly chargers, just emerged with their grim
attendants from some subterranean kingdom; while the red glare from
the cooking tents, and the dusky figures moving about, could scarcely
be recognised as belonging to human and every-day life--the whole
scene having a supernatural air.
The interior of the tents was extremely picturesque, fitted up with
odds and ends of foreign products, and looking very like the temporary
haunt of some pirate; tiger skins, rich soft thick rugs of Persian
manufacture, interspersed with Indian mats, covered the floors; the
tents were lined with flags, favouring the notion that the corsair's
bark lay anchored in some creek below; while daggers, and pistols, and
weapons of all kinds, helped out a fanciful imagination to a tale of
wild adventure. The butler of our host had enacted more wonders than
a man; under such circumstances, a repast of fish and curry might
have been considered a great achievement, but we had the three regular
courses, and those, too, of a most _recherche_ kind, with a dessert to
match, all sent up to the point of perfection.
After coffee, I went out to look upon the sea, which lay like a mirror
below the perpendicular height on which I stood; and as my eyes
became accustomed to the darkness of a moonless night, I saw under
new aspects the sombre outlines of those soft hills, whose purple
loveliness I had admired so much during the day.
I spent several pleasant evenings in these tents, which were engaged
by a young nobleman upon his travels for the purpose of escaping from
the annoyances of the Fort, and who, during his short residence under
canvas, had the advantage of the companionship of a friend, to
whose experienced servants he was indebted for the excellence of the
arrangements.
When it is considered that these tents were pitched upon a lonely
spot, upwards of four miles from Bombay and from the bazaars, the
celerity and success with which every thing was managed will appear
quite wonderful. The tents were found to be so cold, that a gentleman
who afterwards joined the party slept in his palanquin; they were
subsequently removed, and now the palm-tree waves its broad leaves
over the lonely hill, and the prowling jackal seeks his meal
elsewhere. Tents such as those now described form the rarer and
brighter specimens, their usual character being very different.
On the Esplanade we step at once from the ground upon a settrinjee,
which bears all the marks of having been well trodden by sandy feet;
an opening at the farther extremity shows the sea, glaring on the eye
with a hot dazzle; a table, a few chairs, with some books and papers,
perhaps, upon the ground, complete the arrangements that are visible;
while, if proceeding farther, we find ourselves in a room fitted up
as a bed-chamber, nearly as small and inconvenient as the cabin of a
ship, with a square aperture in the thin canvas wall for a window.
These tents are dreadfully warm during the day, and exceedingly cold
at night; they are, moreover, notwithstanding their proximity to
the sea, and the benefit of its breezes, filled with mosquitoes, or
sand-flies, which are equally troublesome. Persons who contemplate a
long residence in them, keep out of the cold and heat by erecting a
chopper, or roof, formed of thatch, over them; but, in my opinion,
they are but uncomfortable residences. Many strangers, however,
arriving at Bombay, have no alternative, there being no other place
where they can find equally good accommodation.
An hotel, it appears, has been established in the Fort, but not of a
description to suit private families or ladies; the constant arrival
of steamers full of passengers fills the houses of the residents
with a succession of guests, who would gladly put up at an hotel or
boarding-house, if such could be found, while there are besides
many ladies now in Bombay, whose husbands are in the army, living
uncomfortably either alone or going about from friend to friend's
houses, who would rejoice to be quietly and comfortably established in
a respectable boarding-house. Nothing of the kind, however, appears to
be at present in contemplation, and Bombay can never, with any
degree of justice, presume to call itself England, until it can offer
suitable accommodation to the vast numbers of strangers who land upon
its shores.
European foreigners, who visit Bombay in a commercial capacity, find
it exceedingly _triste_; independently of private society, there is
absolutely no amusement--no play, no concert, no public assembly
of any kind; nor would it be advisable to attempt to establish an
entertainment of this nature, since there would be no chance of its
support. There is a fine building, the Town Hall, well adapted for the
purpose, but its most spacious saloon is suffered to remain empty and
unfurnished; the expense which must be incurred in the purchase
of chandeliers proving sufficient to deter the community from an
undertaking which would serve to add gaiety to a sombre scene.
Those who have visited the Town Hall of Calcutta, and who retain a
recollection of the brilliance of its re-unions, with all their gay
variety of concert, opera, and acted charade, cannot help seeing
that Bombay lags very far behind; it is, therefore, unwise to provoke
comparisons, and the society here should rather pride itself upon what
it will do, than upon what it has done. It is, perhaps, little to be
lamented that merely frivolous amusements should be wholly confined to
the private circles of social life, but there are others which might
be cultivated with infinite advantage to the community at large, and
for which the great room at the Town Hall seems to be most admirably
adapted.
Whether the native ear is sufficiently refined to relish the superior
performances of music, seems doubtful; but when we see so large
a portion of the society of Bombay composed of Parsee, Hindu, and
Mohamedan gentlemen, we cannot help wishing that some entertainment
should be provided for them which would attract and interest, while
it expanded the mind. A series of lectures upon popular subjects,
illustrated by entertaining experiments, might, I should think, be
introduced with good effect. The wonders of the microscope, laid open
to the eyes of intelligent persons who perfectly understand and
speak English, could scarcely fail to delight and instruct, while
the secrets of phantasmagoria, the astonishing effects produced by
electricity, the movements of the heavenly bodies exhibited in an
orrery, and, indeed, all the arcana of science, agreeably laid open,
would furnish inexhaustible funds of amusement, and lead to inquiries
of the most useful nature. Lectures, also, upon horticulture,
floriculture, &c., might be followed by much practical good; and as
there are many scientific men at the presidency who could assist one
or more lecturers engaged for the purpose, the expense of such an
institution would be materially lessened, while, if it were once
established, the probabilities are in favour of its being supported
by contributions of the necessary models, implements, &c., from the
capitals of Europe.
It is certainly very pleasing to see the numbers of native gentlemen
of all religious persuasions, who enter into the private society
of Bombay, but I could wish that we should offer them some better
entertainment than that of looking on at the eternal quadrille, waltz,
or galoppe. They are too much accustomed to our method of amusing
ourselves to view it in the light in which it is looked upon in many
other parts of India; still, they will never, in all probability,
reconcile it to their ideas of propriety, and it is a pity that we do
not show ourselves capable of something better. Conversation at these
parties is necessarily restricted to a few commonplaces; nothing is
gained but the mere interchange of civility, and the native spectators
gladly depart, perhaps to recreate themselves with more debasing
amusements, without having gained a single new idea.
If meetings once a fortnight, or once a month, could be held at the
Town Hall, for the purpose of diffusing useful knowledge in a popular
manner, they would not only afford amusement at the time, but subjects
also of conversation for the future. Such meetings would give no
offence to that part of the community who are averse, upon religious
principles, to cards and dancing, or dramatic amusements; and if not
rendered too abstruse, and consequently tiresome and incomprehensible
to the general auditor, must necessarily become a favourite method of
passing time now too frequently lost or mis-spent.
The literary and scientific _conversaziones_ given by Lord Auckland,
in Calcutta, afford a precedent for an institution of the kind; the
successful features might be copied, and if there should have been any
failures, the experience thus gained would prevent similar hazards.
There seems to be no good reason why ladies should be excluded, since
the more general and extensive a plan of the kind could be made,
the greater chance there would be of a beneficial exercise of its
influence over society.
There is a very good library attached to the Town Hall, and the germ
of a museum, which would furnish materials for much intellectual
entertainment; and there can be little doubt that, if the proposition
were judiciously made, and properly supported, the wealthy portion
of the native community would subscribe very liberally towards an
establishment so eminently calculated to interest and amuse the youth
of their families. The greater number of the sons of respectable
natives are now receiving their education at the Elphinstone College,
and these young people would understand and appreciate the advantages
of a literary and scientific institution, for the discussion and
illustration of subjects intimately connected with the end and aim
of their studies. In the course of a few years, or even less, many
of these young men would be qualified to take a leading part in the
establishment, and perhaps there would be no greater incentive to the
continuation of studies now frequently abandoned too early, for the
sake of some money-getting pursuit, than the hope that the scientific
acquirements attained at college might be turned to useful account.
A small salary would allure many natives, who, in consequence of the
necessity which they are under of gaining their own bread, are
obliged to engage in some, perhaps not very lucrative, trade, and
who, engrossed in the gathering together o petty gains, lose all the
advantages they might otherwise have derived from a liberal education.
The difficulties which in other parts of our Asiatic territories
stand in the way of the participation of natives in the studies and
amusements of Anglo-Indian residents, in consequence of the difference
of language, are not felt in Bombay.
All the superior classes of natives speak excellent English, the
larger portion expressing themselves with great fluency, and even
elegance. English is spoken in every shop frequented by Europeans, and
there are generally one or two servants in every family who can make
themselves understood in it. The natives form, in fact, a very
large portion of the wealth and intelligence of Bombay, and become,
consequently, an important part of its society. They are the owners
of nearly all the best houses in the island, which are not commonly
either built or purchased, as in Calcutta, by their European tenants.
Many rich native merchants, who reside usually in the Fort, possess
splendid country mansions, to which they retire occasionally, or which
are used merely for the purpose of giving parties to their friends.
These mansions are to be recognised by the abundance of ornament, by
gateways surmounted by nondescript monsters, after the fashion of
the lions or bears of carved stone, which are sometimes seen at the
entrance of a nobleman's grounds in England. At others, they are gaily
painted in a variety of colours, while a profusion of many-coloured
lamps, hanging in the verandah and porticoes on the occasion of every
fete, shed great brilliance on the evening scene. These residences are
scattered all over Bombay, the interiors being all richly furnished,
and many fitted up with infinite taste and elegance.
Although, as I have before remarked, these scattered houses impart an
air of rural enjoyment to the island, yet their being spread over
its whole surface prevents Bombay from appearing to be so important a
place as it is in reality. There is nothing approaching to the idea
of a city to be seen, nothing solid or substantial to indicate
the presence of wealth or of extensive commerce. Calcutta, on the
contrary, offers to the stranger's eye an aspect so striking and
imposing, brings so strongly to the mind the notion that its merchants
are princes, and that it ranks crowned heads amongst its vassals and
its tributaries, that we see at once that it must be the seat of a
powerful and permanently established government. Nor does it seem
possible, even in the event of Bombay taking the ascendance as the
capital of British India, that the proud City of Palaces shall upon
that account dwindle and sink into decay. Stranger things, and even
more melancholy destinies, have befallen the mighty Babylons of the
earth; but with all its faults of situation and of climate, I should
at least, for one, regret the fate that would render the glories of
a city so distinct in its character, and so proudly vying with the
capitals of Europe, a tale of the past. A new direction in the course
of the Ganges may reduce it to a swamp, and its palaces and pleasant
places may be left to desolate creatures, but it will never be
rivalled by any modern creation. The days of Anglo-Indian magnificence
are gone by, and though we may hope for all that is conveyed by the
words _comfort_ and _prosperity_, splendour will no longer form a
feature in the scene.
The climate of Bombay is said to be superior in point of salubrity to
that of Bengal; what is termed the cold season, however, can
scarcely merit the name, there being nothing like the bracing weather
experienced at the same period of the year in the neighbouring
presidency. One peculiarity of Bombay consists in the wind blowing hot
and cold at the same time, so that persons who are liable to rheumatic
pains are obliged to wrap themselves up much more warmly than is
agreeable. While enduring a very uncomfortable degree of heat, a puff
of wind from the land or the sea will produce a sudden revulsion, and
in these alternations the whole day will pass away, while at night
they become still more dangerous. It is said that the hot season
is not so hot as in Bengal, and the absence of punkahs in the
drawing-rooms and bed-chambers favours the statement; but if the
atmosphere be much more sultry in the hot season than it is in what is
by courtesy called cold, it must be rather difficult to bear.
To a stranger in Bombay, it is a great convenience to find so many
persons who speak English, the objection to the engagement of domestic
servants who have acquired the language of their Christian masters not
existing to the same extent here as in Bengal, where, in most cases,
it is a proof of utter worthlessness. Numbers of very respectable
servants, who are found in old established families at this
presidency, speak English, and the greater portion take a pride in
knowing a little of their masters' language. These smatterers are
fond of showing off their acquirements upon all occasions, replying
in English, as far as they are able, to every question asked in
Hindostanee, and delivering their messages in all the words that they
can muster. With few exceptions, the pronunciation of the language
they have acquired is correct; these exceptions consist in the prefix
of _e_ to all words beginning with an _s_, and the addition of the
same letter to every termination to which it can be tacked. Thus they
will ask you to take some _fowlee-stew;_ and if you object to any
thing, say they will bring you _anotheree_. Though very respectful
when addressing their superiors in their native language, the same
degree of propriety is not maintained under the disadvantage of an
incompetent acquaintance with English. Instead of the _khana tear hi_,
'dinner is ready,' they will very unintentionally substitute an abrupt
summons. I was much amused one day, when, being rather late at my
toilette, a servant made his appearance at the door of my apartment,
just as I was quitting it, and said, "You come to dinner." He had been
sent to tell me that it was served, and had not the least idea that he
had not delivered his message with the greatest propriety.
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