CAPE-TOWN.
Page 5.
But to return to Table Mountain, the watchtower of Cape Colony. In few other points of the coast-line of any continent are the mountains more representative of the form of the inland country than here. At the foot of the three contiguous mountains, Table Mountain, Devil’s Peak, and Lion’s Head, and guarded, as it were, by their giant mass, reposing, as it might well appear, in one of the most secure and sheltered nooks in the world, lay Cape Town, the scene of my first landing. It is the metropolis of South Africa, the most populous city south of the Zambesi, and the second in importance of all the trade centres in the Anglo-African colonies. Although, perhaps, in actual beauty of situation it cannot rival Funchal, the capital of Madeira, which, with its tiers of terraces on its sloping hillside, we had had the opportunity of admiring in the course of the voyage, yet there is something about Cape Town which is singularly attractive to the eye of a stranger; he seems at once to experience an involuntary feeling of security as he steams slowly along the shores of Table Bay; and as he gazes on the white buildings (not unfrequently surmounted by slender towers) which rise above the verdure of the streets and gardens, he recognizes what must appear a welcome haven of refuge after the stormy perils of a long sea passage. But appearances here, as often elsewhere, are somewhat deceptive; and as matter of fact, both the town and the bay are at some seasons of the year exposed to violent storms, one consequence of which is that the entire region is filled with frightful clouds of dust. Even in calm weather, the dust raised by the ordinary traffic of the place is so dense and annoying that it is scarcely possible to see a hundred yards ahead; and to escape it as much as possible people of sufficient means only come into the town to transact their business, having their residences in the outskirts at the foot of the adjacent mountains.
This disadvantage is likely to attach to the town for some time to come; first, because there are no practicable means of arresting the storms that break in on the south-east from Simon’s Bay; and secondly, because no measures have yet been taken in hand for paving the streets. It must be acknowledged, however, that within the last few years, during Sir Bartle Frere’s administration, the large harbour-works that have been erected have done much to protect the town from the ravages of the ocean,—ravages of which the fragments of wreck that lie scattered along the shores of Table Bay are the silent but incontestable witnesses.
At the time of my arrival, in 1872, our vessel had to be towed very cautiously into the harbour. Mail steamers are now despatched to the colony every week, but at that time they only reached South Africa about twice a month, and it was therefore no wonder that each vessel, as it arrived from the mother-country, should be hailed with delight, and that the signal from the station at the base of the Lion’s Head should attract a considerable crowd to the shore. There were many who were expecting relations or friends; there were the postal officials, with a body of subordinates, waiting to receive the mail; and there were large numbers of the coloured population, Malays, Kaffirs, and Hottentots, as well as many representatives of the cross-breeds of each race, who had come to offer their services as porters. All these had found their way to the water’s edge, and stood in compact line crowded against the pier. In a few minutes the steamer lay to, and the passengers who, after two days, were to go on to Port Elizabeth hurried on shore to make the most of their time in exploring the town.
At a short distance from the shore, we entered Cape Town by the fish-market. Here, every day except Sunday, the Malay fishermen display an immense variety of fish; and lobsters, standing literally in piles, seem especially to find a ready sale. Any visitor who can steel his olfactory nerves against the strong odour that pervades the atmosphere of the place may here find a singularly ample field for ethnographical and other studies. The Malays, who were introduced into the country about ten years since, have remained faithful to their habits and costume. Imported as fishermen, stone-masons, and tailors, they have continued their own lines of handicraft, whilst they have adopted a new pursuit adapted to their new home and have become very successful as horse-breakers.
Passing along, we were interested in noticing the dusky forms of these men as they busily emptied the contents of their boats into baskets. They were dressed in voluminous linen shirts and trousers; and their conical hats of plaited straw, rushes, or bamboo, were made very large, so as to protect their heads effectually from the sun. Their physiognomy is flat, and not particularly pleasing, but their eyes, especially those of the women, are large and bright, and attest their tropical origin. The women, who wore brilliant handkerchiefs upon their heads, and the fullest of white skirts over such a number of petticoats as gave them all the appearance of indulging in crinoline, were assisting their husbands in their work, laughing with high glee over a haul which evidently satisfied them, and chattering, sometimes in their own language and sometimes in Dutch. A black-headed progeny scrambled about amongst their busy elders, the girls looking like pretty dolls in their white linen frocks, the boys dressed in short jackets and trousers, none of them seeming to consider themselves too young to do their best in helping to lug off the fish to the market.
On leaving the fish-market, we made our way along one of the streets which lie parallel to each other, and came to the parade, a place bordered with pines. Inside the town the eye of a stranger is less struck by the buildings, which for the most part are in the old Dutch style, than by the traffic which is going on in the streets, where the mixed breeds predominate. In every corner, in every house, they swarm in the capacity of porters, drivers, or servants, and Malays, Kaffirs, and half-breeds are perpetually lying in wait for a job, which, when found, they are skilful enough in turning to their own advantage. Much as was done during my seven years’ sojourn in the country to improve the external appearance and general condition of the town, this portion of the population seemed never to gain in refinement, and the sole advance that it appeared to make was in the craftiness and exorbitance of its demands. Exceptions, however, were occasionally to be found amongst some of the Malays and half-breeds, who from special circumstances had had the advantage of a somewhat better education.
Cape Town is the headquarters of the Chief Commissioner for the British Possessions and Dependencies in South Africa, as well as for his Council and for the Upper and Lower Houses of Assembly. It is also the see of an Anglican bishop. The town contains sixteen churches and chapels, and amongst its population, which is chiefly coloured, are members of almost every known creed. Amongst the white part of the community, the Dutch element decidedly preponderates.
At the head of the present Government is a man who has gained the highest confidence of the colonists, and who is esteemed as the most liberal-minded and far-seeing governor that England has ever entrusted with the administration of the affairs of her South African possessions. It is confidently maintained that many of Sir Bartle Frere’s measures are destined to bear rich fruit in the future.