IX.
Madras.
Duration of Stay from 30th January to 10th February, 1858.
"Catamarans" and "Massuli" boats.—Difficulty of disembarkation, and plans for remedying it.—History.—Brahminism.—Festival in honour of Vishnu.—Employment of Heathens under a Christian Government.—Politics and Religion.—Laws of Brahminic faith.—The Observatory.—Museum of Natural History and Zoological Garden.—Academy of Fine Arts.—Medical School.—Infirmary.—Orphan Asylum.—Dr. Bell.—Lancastrian Method of Teaching Children first applied in Madras.—Colonel Mackenzie's Collection of Indian Inscriptions and Manuscripts.—The Palace of the former Nabob of the Coromandel Coast.—Journey by rail to Vellore.—Fête given by the Governor in Guindy Park.—Visit to the Monolithic Monuments of Mahamalaipuram.—Excursion to Pulicat Lake.—Madras Club.—Fête in honour of the members of the Novara Expedition.—"Tiffin" and dance on board.—Departure from Madras.—Zodiacal light.—Shrove Tuesday in the tropics.—Arrival at the Island of Kar-Nicobar.
The morning after our arrival in Madras Roads, a native boat came alongside, of the sort known as "Catamarans," having on board two natives, who brought off from the authorities of the port the customary papers to be filled up. This extraordinary and very primitive boat consists of merely two or three trunks of trees bound together raft-fashion, on which these daring boatmen kneel. As a great part of their body is necessarily under water, they carry the papers and letters entrusted to them for transmission to the ships in the Roads, in turban-like wrappings which envelope their heads. Ordinarily, these men are excellent swimmers, a most requisite accomplishment to enable them to regain their boats, in the event of being swept off by the waves, or to save themselves and others from the innumerable sharks, which frequent the entire Coromandel coast, and render it eminently dangerous. About noon, a larger boat approached us, manned by from 15 to 20 natives, who offered their services as caterers, washers, agents, servants, in short as "Dubashes" a sort of Hindoo factotum; while each individual, shrieking and vociferating at the top of his voice, held high in the air, with outstretched arm, a number of written testimonials of ship-captains that had already employed him. These boats, called "Massuli," or "Musli" boats (from Muchly—fish), about 36 feet long by 5 or 6 in width, and in which alone it is possible to bring passengers and goods to land, are light, as flexible as if made of leather, and are fastened together with the elastic fibres of the cocoa-nut, being in every particular specially adapted to yield to the tremendous blows of the heavy surf, which a boat of ordinary construction could not possibly live through. They are for the most part pretty deep, and are usually manned with from 12 to 15 naked natives, who make use of an exceedingly smooth pallette-shaped paddle. In one of these boats, the officers of the frigate on leave, and the naturalists of the Expedition, were conveyed to land in the midst of a fresh breeze from the N.E. The more we approached the shore, the more formidable was the appearance of the tumultuous tempest-driven waves. Amid frightful yells and hurrahs, we passed in safety the first and second lines of surf. But we had yet to encounter the third, and by far the most furious. The boatmen spread a couple of cloths over our heads, to prevent our getting a soaking; the boat made several violent plunges forward, and was for an instant apparently covered by the tremendous foaming billows, but seemed to glide in a most extraordinary manner over these, and finally was neatly laid alongside the beach on the crest of the last breaker. This is the critical moment, and the most disagreeable, because the boat is, by this manipulation, thrown on its side, and one feels disposed to rush out, ere the returning wave throws the boat high and dry on the sand. The noisy shrieks of the boat's crew and Coolies, or Lascars (Indian porters), with which the disembarkation is accompanied, combine to render it still more annoying and unpleasant. One feels a sensation of satisfaction at having gone through this remarkable, and to some extent wholly peculiar, experience; but no one was ever known to encounter it voluntarily a second time. The glowing picture, which numbers of travellers have drawn of the landing at Madras, might impress many readers with the idea that their representations were most probably tinged somewhat with a colouring of romance; but, in view of our own experience at what is confessedly the pleasantest season of the year, there can be at certain times no description, however vividly sketched, but what must lag behind the reality.
There could hardly have been selected a more unsuitable site for a city, than that of Madras, and it is only the circumstance that the entire Coromandel coast presents no more eligible haven, as also the importance of the place as the chief city of the Carnatic, which alone has a population of 5,000,000, that has enabled Madras to boast a population of 700,000 inhabitants, and a commerce of such magnitude that 6000 vessels, British and foreign, are annually[101] cleared inwards and outwards, laden with upwards of 650,000 tons of produce and goods of a total value of more than £8,000,000 sterling.
[101] In the year 1857, the number of trading vessels was 6241, carrying 652,146 tons merchandise, of which 1438 were square-sailed ships; and 4803 native boats and Chinese junks. The imports of goods and metals amounted to Rs. 40,563,826 (about £4,050,000 in round numbers); the exports to Rs. 40,060,656 (about £4,000,000 in round numbers). We are indebted to the kindness of Dr. Balfour for a variety of interesting statistical data, the information contained in which must be transferred to the statistical portion of the Novara publications.
The spot at which vessels anchor can by no stretch of terms be called a roadstead, being in fact nothing but an open strip of coast running nearly due north and south, so that during the N.E. monsoons, the sea that sets in is something extraordinary, and produces a tremendous surf. At no season of the year is it practicable to reach the shore by ordinary ship-boats, because the beach, being utterly unprovided with any artificial appliances, is left in its natural state—that is to say, covered with fine sand, which lies so level that the depth is only nine fathoms two miles out at sea! Singular to say, no steps have to this day been taken to carry out the proposition, made many long years ago, of remedying this difficulty in reaching land, by the construction of a mole or pier, although three or four plans have already been presented by distinguished engineers. The last and most feasible scheme, and the most likely to be put in execution, consists in constructing a mole 1000 feet in length and 60 feet in breadth, to be erected upon iron piles driven into the sand, and with a cross-piece at the seaward extremity—the mole construction resembling the letter T. On either side of the mole, tramways will be laid down to facilitate the transport of goods that have been discharged. The entire cost of this undertaking would be about £100,000—an entirely disproportionate, and, indeed, insignificant amount, when one takes into consideration the important consequences which must result to trade and passenger traffic on the completion of this erection.
The earliest British settlement was at Armegon, about 36 miles north of Pulicat (or about 78 miles N. by W. of Madras). The cession of a piece of land by the native Rajah of Besnayor induced the president of the old factory at Armegon, Mr. Francis Day, to abandon the latter, and in the year 1639, the Fort of St. George was erected at the newly-selected station, where formerly stood the little Hindoo village of Ischinapatam. This fort formed the nucleus, at a later period, of the city of Madras, which is built on the flat alluvial soil along the coast, and at present comprises an area of about 30 (English) square miles. Its extent along the beach from north to south is about 9 miles by an extreme width of 3¾ miles. Madras, like all the rest, consists of a White town, exclusively inhabited by Europeans, and a Black town, or Pettah, in which the natives and all coloured residents carry on business.
The White town, which, however, presents none of the carefully laid-out streets and compact blocks of houses involuntarily suggested by the word "town," but rather resembles a gigantic park, in which are situated a vast number of comfortable ornamental villas, rises at its highest point 20 feet above the sea; whereas the Black town, at several points—for instance, Popham's Broadway—is hardly 8 feet above the level of spring floods.