gateway to the Far East; the one city which everyone encircling the
globe is forced to visit, at least for a day. Hongkong streets may have
seemed to present an unparalleled mixture of races; Canton's narrow
alleys may have appeared strange and exotic; but Singapore surpasses
Honkong in the number and picturesqueness of the races represented in
its streets, as it easily surpasses Canton in strange sights and in
swarming toilers from many lands that fill the boats on its canals and
the narrow, crooked streets that at night glow with light and resound
with the clamor of alien tongues.
Singapore is built on an island which adjoins the extreme end of the
Malay Peninsula. It is about sixty miles from the equator, and it has a
climate that varies only a few degrees from seventy during the entire
year. This heat would not be debilitating were it not for the extreme
humidity of the atmosphere. To a stranger, especially if he comes from
the Pacific Coast, the place seems like a Turkish bath. The slightest
physical exertion makes the perspiration stand out in beads on the face.
Singapore has a population of over three hundred thousand people; it has
a great commercial business, which is growing every year; it already has
the largest dry dock in the world. Its bund is not so imposing as that
of Hongkong, but it has more public squares and its government buildings
are far more handsome. As Hongkong owes much of its splendid
architecture and its air of stability to Sir Paul Chator, so Singapore
owes its spacious avenues, its fine buildings, its many parks, its
interesting museum and its famous botanical gardens to Sir Stamford
Raffles, one of the British empire-builders who have left indelibly
impressed on the Orient their genius for founding cities and
constructing great public enterprises. Yet, Singapore, with far more
business than Manila, is destitute of a proper sewer system, and the
streets in its native quarters reek with foul odors.
The feature of Singapore that first impresses the stranger is the
variety of races seen in any of the streets, and this continues to
impress him so long as he remains in the city. My stay in Singapore was
four days, due to the fact that it was necessary to wait here for the
departure of the British West India Company's steamer for Rangoon and
Calcutta. In jinrikishas and pony carts I saw all quarters of the town,
and my wonder grew every day at the remarkable show of costumes
presented by the different races. One day, late in the afternoon, I sat
down on a coping of the wall that surrounds a pretty park on Orchard
road, and in the space of a half hour watched the moving show that
passed by. At this hour all Singapore takes its outing to the Botanical
Gardens, and one may study the people who have leisure and money.
The favorite rig is still the victoria drawn by high-stepping horses,
with coachman and postilion, but the automobile is evidently making
rapid strides in popular favor, despite the fact that the heavy, humid
air makes the odor of gasoline cling to the roadway. A high-class Arab,
with his keen, intellectual face, rides by with a bright Malay driving
the machine. Then comes a fat and prosperous-looking Parsee in his
carriage, followed by a rich Chinese merchant arrayed in spotless white,
seated in a motor car, his family about him, and some relative or
servant at the wheel. Along moves a rickshaw with an East Indian woman,
the sun flashing on the heavy gold rings in her ears, while a carriage
follows with a pretty blonde girl with golden hair, seated beside her
Chinese ayah, or nurse. A score of young Britons come next in rickshaws,
some carrying tennis racquets, and others reading books or the afternoon
paper. The rickshaws here, unlike those of Japan or China, carry two
people. They are pulled by husky Chinese coolies, who have as remarkable
development of the leg muscles as their Japanese brothers, with far
better chests. In fact, the average Chinese rickshaw coolie of Singapore
is a fine physical type, and he will draw for hours with little show of
suffering a rickshaw containing two people. The pony cart of Singapore
is another unique institution. It is a four-wheeled cart, seating four
people, drawn by a pony no larger than the average Shetland. The driver
sits on a little box in front, and at the end of the wagon is a basket
in which rests the pony's allowance of green grass for the day. The pony
cart is popular with parties of three or four and, as most of
Singapore's streets are level, the burden on the animal is not severe.
This moving procession of the races goes on until eleven-thirty o'clock,
the popular dinner hour all along the Chinese coast. It is varied by the
occasional appearance of a bullock cart, which has probably changed very
little in hundreds of years. The bullocks have a pronounced hump at the
shoulders, and are of the color and size of a Jersey cow. The neckyoke
is a mere bar of wood fastened to the pole, and the cart is heavy and
ungainly. Nowhere in Singapore does one find coolies straining at huge
loads as in China and Japan, as this labor is given over to bullocks.
Here, however, both men and women carry heavy burdens on their heads,
while the Chinese use the pole and baskets, so familiar to all
Californians.
The Malays and East Indians furnish the most picturesque feature of all
street crowds. The Malays, dark of skin, with keen faces, wear the
sarong, a skirt of bright-colored silk or cotton wrapped about the loins
and falling almost to the shoe. The sarong is scant and reminds one
strongly of the hobble-skirt, as no Malay is able to take a full stride
in it. The skirt and jacket of the Malay may vary, but the sarong is
always of the same style, and the brighter the color the more it seems
to please the wearer. The East Indians are of many kinds. The Sikhs, who
are the police of Hongkong, here share such duty with Tamils from
southern India and some Chinese.
No Malay is ever seen in any low, menial employment. The Malay is well
represented on the electric cars, where he serves usually as conductor
and sometimes as motorman. He is also an expert boatman and fisherman.
He is very proud and is said to be extremely loyal to foreigners who
treat him with justice and consideration. The Malay, however, can not be
depended on for labor on the rubber or cocoanut plantations, as he will
not work unless he can make considerable money. Ordinary wages do not
appeal to a man in a country where eight cents is the cost of
maintenance on rice and fish, with plenty of tea. The Malay is a
gentleman, even when in reduced circumstances, and he must be treated
with consideration that would be lost or wasted on the ordinary Chinese.
The Chinese occupy a peculiar position in Singapore. It is the only
British crown colony in which the Chinese is accorded any equality with
white men. Here in the early days the Chinese were welcomed not only for
their ability to do rough pioneer work, but because of their commercial
ability. From the outset they have controlled the trade with their
countrymen in the Malayan States, while at the same time they have
handled all the produce raised by Chinese. They have never done much in
the export trade, nor have they proved successful in carrying on the
steamship business, because they can not be taught the value of keeping
vessels in fine condition and of catering to the tastes of the foreign
traveling public. On the other hand, the great Chinese merchants of
Singapore have amassed large fortunes and have built homes which surpass
those of rich Europeans. On Orchard road, which leads to the Botanical
Gardens, are several Chinese residences which excite the traveler's
wonder, because of the beauty of the buildings and grounds and the
lavishness of ornament and decorations. These merchants, whose names are
known throughout the Malay States and as far as Hongkong and Manila,
represent the Chinese at his best, freed from all restrictions and
permitted to give his commercial genius full play.
STRANGE NIGHT SCENES IN THE CITY OF SINGAPORE
The Chinese element in Singapore is so overwhelming that it arrests the
attention of the most careless tourist, but no one appreciates the
enormous number of the Mongolians in Singapore until he visits the
Chinese and Malay districts at night. With a friend I started out one
night about eight o'clock. It was the first night in Singapore that one
could walk with any comfort. We went down North Bridge road, one of the
main avenues on which an electric car line runs. After walking a
half-mile we struck off to the right where the lights were bright. Just
as soon as we left the main avenue we began to see life as it is in
Singapore after dark. The first native street was devoted to small
hawkers, who lined both sides of the narrow thoroughfare. Each had about
six feet of space, and each had his name and his number as a licensed
vender. The goods were of every description and of the cheapest quality.
They had been brought in small boxes, and on these sat the Chinese
merchant and frequently his wife and children. A flare or two from cheap
nut oil illuminated the scene.
Passing in front of these stands was a constantly moving crowd of
Chinese, Malays and East Indians of many races, all chaffering and
talking at the top of their voices. At frequent intervals were street
tea counters, where food was sold, evidently at very low prices. Ranged
along on benches were men eating rice and various stews that were taken
piping hot from kettles resting on charcoal stoves. One old Chinese
woman had a very condensed cooking apparatus. Over two small braziers
she had two copper pots, each divided into four compartments and in each
of these different food was cooking.
Back of the street peddlers were the regular stores, all of which were
open and apparently doing a good business. As in Hongkong, the Chinese
workmen labor until ten or eleven o'clock at night, even carpenters and
basket-makers working a full force by the light of gas or electricity.
The recent events in China had their reflex here. All the makers of
shirts and clothing were feverishly busy cutting up and sewing the new
flag of the revolution. Long lines of red and blue bunting ran up and
down these rooms, and each workman was driving his machine like mad,
turning out a flag every few minutes. The fronts of most of these stores
were decorated with flags of the revolution.
The most conspicuous places of business on these streets were the large
restaurants, where hundreds of Chinese were eating their chow at small
tables. The din was terrific, and the lights flashing on the naked
yellow skins, wet with perspiration, made a strange spectacle. Next to
these eating houses in number were handsomely decorated places in which
Chinese women plied the most ancient trade known to history. Some of
these women were very comely, but few were finely dressed, as in this
quarter cheapness seemed to be the rule in everything. Around some of
these places crowds of Chinese gathered and exchanged comment apparently
on attractive new arrivals in these resorts of vice. Many of the inmates
were young girls, fourteen or sixteen years old.
Less numerous than these houses were the opium dens, scattered
throughout all these streets. These haunts of the drug that enslaves
were long and narrow rooms, with a central passage and a long, low
platform on each side. This platform was made of fine hardwood, and by
constant use shone like old mahogany. Ranged along on these platforms
wide enough for two men, facing each other and using a common lamp, were
scores of opium smokers. As many as fifty men could be accommodated in
each of these large establishments. The opium was served as a sticky
mass, and each man rolled some of it on a metal pin and cooked it over
the lamp. When cooked, the ball of opium was thrust into a small hole in
the bamboo opium pipe. Then the smoker, lying on his side, drew the
flame of the lamp against this opium and the smoke came up through the
bamboo tube of the pipe and was inhaled. One cooking of opium makes
never more than three whiffs of the pipe, sometimes only two. The effect
on the novice is very exhilarating, but the seasoned smoker is forced to
consume more and more of the drug to secure the desired effect. In one
of these dens we watched a large Chinese prepare his opium. He took only
two whiffs, but the second one was so deep that the smoke made the tears
run out of his eyes. His companion was so far under the influence of the
drug that his eyes were glazed and he was staring at some vision called
up by the powerful narcotic. One old Chinese, seeing our interest in the
spectacle, shook his head and said: "Opium very bad for Chinaman; make
him poor; make him weak." Further along in this quarter we came upon
several huge Chinese restaurants, ablaze with light and noisy with
music. We were told that dinners were being given in honor of
revolutionist victories.
In all our night ramble through the Chinese and Malay quarters of
Singapore we saw not a single European, yet we met only courteous
treatment everywhere, and our curiosity was taken as a compliment.
Singapore is well policed by various races, among which the Sikhs and
Bengali predominate. An occasional Malay is met acting as a police
officer, but it is evident that such work does not appeal to the native
of the Straits Settlements.
On our return to the hotel we crossed a large estuary which is spanned
by several bridges. Here were hundreds of small boats moored to the
shore, the homes of thousands of river people. This business of
transportation on the water is in the hands of the Malays, who are most
expert boatmen. It is a pleasure to watch one of these men handle a huge
cargo boat. With his large oar he will scull rapidly, while his
assistant uses a long pole.
One of the sights of Singapore is the Botanical Gardens, about three and
one-half miles from town. The route is along Orchard road and Tanglin
road, two beautiful avenues that are lined with comfortable bungalows of
Europeans, and magnificent mansions of Chinese millionaires. The gardens
occupy a commanding position overlooking the surrounding country, and
they have been laid out with much skill. The drives are bordered with
ornamental trees from all lands. The most beautiful of all the palms is
the Traveler's tree from Madagascar. It is a palm the fronds of which
grow up like a regular fan. At a little distance it looks like a
peacock's tail spread to the full extent. It is so light, graceful and
feathery that it satisfies the eye as no other palm does. Of other palms
there are legion, from the Mountain Cabbage palm of the West Indies to
endless varieties from Malay, Madagascar and western Africa.
CHARACTERISTIC SIGHTS IN BURMA'S LARGEST CITY
One of the characteristic sights of Rangoon is that of the big Siamese
elephants piling teak in the lumber yards along Rangoon river. It is the
same sight that Kipling pictured in the lines in his perfect ballad,
_Mandalay_, which an Englishman who knows his Burma well says is "the
finest ballad in the world, with all the local color wrong."
These lumber yards are strung along the river, but are easily reached by
an electric car. Several are conducted by Chinese, but the finest yard
is in charge of the government. At the first Chinese yard was the
largest elephant in the city, a huge animal fifty-five years old, with
great tusks admirably fitted for lifting large logs. A dozen tourists
were grouped about the yard in the early morning, for these elephants
are only worked in the morning and evening hours, when it is cool. An
East Indian coolie was mounted on his back, or rather just back of his
ears, with his legs dangling loose. With his naked feet he indicated
whether the elephant was to go to the right or left, and when he wished
to emphasize an order he hit the beast a blow upon the head with a heavy
steel rod.
Much of the work which this elephant did was spectacular, as it showed
the enormous strength of the animal as well as his great intelligence.
He took up on his tusks a log of teak, the native wood of this country,
as hard as hickory and much heavier, and, with the aid of his trunk,
stood with it at attention until every camera fiend had taken his
picture. Then his driver made the huge beast move a large log of teak
from a muddy hole by sheer force of the head and neck. The animal
dropped almost to his knees, and then putting forth all his strength he
actually pushed the log, which weighed about a ton and one-half, through
the mud up to the gangplank of the saw. Then he piled several huge logs
one upon the other, to show his skill in this work.
Leaving this yard the party walked about a half-mile through trails,
with marshy land on each side, to the big government timber yard. Here
were thousands of logs which had been cut far up in the teak forests of
the interior, dragged through the swamps of the Irrawaddy by elephants,
then floated down the great river to Rangoon. All the logs in this yard
were marked with a red cross to signify that they belonged to the
government. Down by the river shore, where the ground was so soft that
their feet sank deep into the slimy mud, were five elephants engaged in
hauling logs up from the river to the dry ground near the shore.
The chief object of interest in Rangoon is the great Shwe Dagon pagoda,
which dominates the whole city. Its golden summit may be seen for many
miles gleaming above dull green masses of foliage. This pagoda is the
center of the Buddhist faith, as it is said to contain veritable relics
of Gautama as well as of the three Buddhas who came before him.
Thousands of pilgrims from all parts of Burmah, Siam, Cochin-China,
Korea, Ceylon and other Oriental countries visit the pagoda every year
and their offerings at the various shrines amount to millions of
dollars. The pagoda differs absolutely from the temples of Japan and
China in form, material and the arrangement of lesser shrines; but its
impressiveness is greatly injured by the presence of hundreds of
hucksters, who sell not only curios and souvenirs of the pagoda, but
food and drink.
The pagoda, which is about two miles from the business center of
Rangoon, is built upon a mound. The circumference is thirteen hundred
and fifty-five feet and the total height from the base is three hundred
and seventy feet. It is constructed in circular style, its concentric
rings gradually lessening in size until the top is reached. This is
surmounted by a gilt iron work or "ti" on which little bells are hung.
This "ti" was a gift from the late king of Burmah, who spent a quarter
of a million dollars on its decoration with gold and precious stones.
The mound on which the pagoda stands is divided into two rectangular
terraces. The upper terrace, nine hundred feet by six hundred and
eighty-five, is one hundred and sixty-six feet above the level of the
ground. The ascent is by three flights of brick stairs, the fourth
flight at the back being closed to permit of the building of
fortifications by which the English may defend the pagoda in any
emergency. The southern or main entrance is made conspicuous by two
enormous leogryphs, which are of plastered brick.
Up these steep stairs the visitor climbs, pestered by loathsome beggars
and importuned on every hand to buy relics, flowers and articles of gold
and silver. One would fancy he was in a great bazar rather than in the
entrance hall of the finest monument in the world erected in honor of
Buddha. The four chapels ranged around the rectangular terrace are
ornamented by figures of the sitting Buddha. Then one visits a score of
magnificently decorated shrines, in which are Buddhas in every variety
of position. In one is the reclining Gautama in alabaster, in whose
honor the pagoda was built. In others are Gautamas of brass, ivory,
glass, clay and wood. Before many of these shrines candles are burning
and devotees are seated or are praying with their faces bowed to the
stone pavement. On one side of the platform is a row of miniature
pagodas, all encrusted with decoration of gold and precious stones, the
gifts of thousands of pious devotees. Among these shrines are many small
bells which are rung by worshippers when they deposit their offerings,
and one great bell (the third largest in the world, weighing forty-two
and one-fourth tons), given by King Tharrawaddy.
The eyes of the visitor are wearied with the splendid decoration of the
chapels, the gilding, the carving, the inlaid glass work. It seems as
though there was no end to the rows on rows of Buddhas in every
conceivable position. Interspersed among them are tall poles from which
float long streamers of bamboo bearing painted historical pictures,
including those of the capture of the pagoda by the British. Thousands
crowd these platforms. Some offer gifts to various shrines, others say
prayer after prayer, still others strike bells to give warning to evil
spirits that they have offered up their petitions to Buddha, others hang
eagerly on the words of fortune tellers. All buy food and drink and the
whole place suggests in its good cheer a country picnic rather than a
pilgrimage to the greatest Buddhist shrine in the world.
When one has left the pagoda he bears the memory of magnificent
decorations, of vast crowds, but of little real reverence. The great
golden pagoda itself is the dominating feature in every view of Rangoon,
just as the Washington monument dominates all other structures in
Washington.
[Illustration: PLATE XXV
Queen's Road in
Hongkong. This is One
of the Most Picturesque
Streets in the Orient,
With Large Stores and
Splendid Gilded Signs on
Each Side. The Buildings
Are so Constructed
That the Sidewalk
Becomes a Shaded
Arcade]
[Illustration: PLATE XXVI
Flower Market in a
Hongkong Street--One
of the Prettiest
Sights in Hongkong, as
Orchids, Irises, Lilies
and Other Blossoms Are
Always on Sale]
[Illustration: PLATE XXVII
Coolies Carrying
Burdens at Hongkong.
Chinese Coolies Using
the Bamboo Pole Are
a Common Sight in
Hongkong. They Carry
Several Hundred
Pounds, Moving at
a Dog Trot]
[Illustration: PLATE XXVIII
The Spacious Foreign
Bund at Hongkong,
With the Row of Lofty
Business Buildings.
The Ferry Takes One
to Kowloon, the
Native City, Opposite
Hongkong]
[Illustration: PLATE XXIX
Chinese Junks in
Hongkong Harbor, These
Junks, With Their
Curious Sails of Matting
and Bamboo Spars,
Form One of the
Features of Every
Chinese Harbour or
Sea View]
[Illustration: PLATE XXX
View of the Water-front
at Canton. This General
View of the Pearl
River and the Canton
Bund, or Water-front,
Shows the Enormous
Floating Population
on the River]
[Illustration: PLATE XXXI
The New Chinese Bund
at Canton. The Chinese
Recently Completed
This Bund.
It Contrasts Strongly
With the Ancient
Walled City, a Stone's
Throw in the Rear]
[Illustration: PLATE XXXII
A Confucian Festival at
Singapore. This Shows
the Elaborate Street
Decorations to
Commemorate the
Festival of
Confucius in the
Chinese Quarter]
[Illustration: PLATE XXXIII
A Main Street in the
Native Quarter of
Singapore. The Shops
Are Small and the
Shopkeepers Live in
the Rooms Above. The
Flags Displayed Are
Those of the New
Chinese Republic]
[Illustration: PLATE XXXIV
The Y. M. C. A.
Building at Singapore.
This Fine Structure Has
Many Counterparts in
the Chief Oriental
Cities, Where the
Association is Doing a
Great Work]
[Illustration: PLATE XXXV
The Great Shwe Dagon Pagoda at Rangoon.
The Finest Buddhist Temple in all Indo-China, Containing
Alleged Relics of Gautama. It is Gilded from Base
to Summit and May be Seen Forty Miles at Sea]
[Illustration: PLATE XXXVI
Entrance to the Shwe Dagon Pagoda.
On Each Side is an Enormous Leogryph, Built of
Brick and Covered With Plaster. The
Porch Has a Superbly Carved
Roof]
[Illustration: PLATE XXXVII
Burmese
Worshipping Before
Shrine in the Pagoda at
Rangoon. These Figures,
Mainly Women and
Children, Show the
National Dress. Note
the Richness of
Decoration of the
Shrines.]
[Illustration: PLATE XXXVIII
Riverside Scene at
Rangoon. Here Are the
Native Cargo Boats
Which Bring Rice and
Other Products Down
the Irrawaddy.
Rangoon Has a Trade
Second Only to That
of Calcutta and
Bombay]
[Illustration: PLATE XXXIX