Download PDF | John N. Miksic - Singapore and the Silk Road of the Sea, 1300–1800-National University of Singapore Press (2013).
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POREWORD
This publication, Singapore and the Silk Road of the Sea, 1300-1800, by Dr. John N. Miksic is the outcome of a partnership between the National Museum of Singapore (NMS) and the National University of Singapore Press (NUS Press). ‘The NMS has been actively involved in supporting archaeo- logical excavations undertaken in Singapore in recent decades. Some artefacts excavated with support from the NMS are on permanent display in the NMS’ Singapore History Gallery.
In retrospect, the singular contribution of archaeology in the Singapore context has been to establish the fact that Singapore’s history does not begin with the arrival of the British in 1819; it was preceded by a precolonial past. Dr. Miksic has brought that past into the open with a definitive account of the period, supported by wide-ranging research and meticulous documentation. As a result, we now have a deeper understanding of the precolonial history of Singapore particularly during the period 1300-1800. New perspectives emerge in this publication, foremost among which is an understanding of Singapore’s historic position and role in the aptly-named “Silk Road of the Sea”. This perspective containing a longue durée narrative has the potential to contribute to the incorporation of the precolonial period with the full extent of Singapore’s history.
Singapore and the Silk Road of the Sea also demonstrates that the archaeological encounter with Singapore’s precolonial past can indeed be a stimulating and thought-provoking venture into the texture of the island’s palimpsest. The “Silk Road of the Sea” as a world category may well indicate that the time has come to return to the spirit of Fernand Braudel, to a vision of the past not as a foreign country but as a mobile and well-connected world with a resonance echoing into the present.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to acknowledge many people who have contributed to archaeological [== in Singapore since 1984, and apologize that I cannot name all of them here. In total, about 1,000 volunteers have contributed to the accumulation of data summarized in this book. I have chosen a few specific names to represent the whole community of Singapore archaeological workers.
In particular, I would like to acknowledge Ms. Lise Young Lai, who was the backbone of my fieldwork for years. I would not have been able to manage the tasks of organizing the early excavations without her constant support, encouragement, and advice. She deserves a special place in the annals of Singapore archaeology.
The Parks and Recreation Department (P&R) and its successor organization, the National Parks Board (NParks), have gone out of their way to facilitate my research. I am particularly grateful for the laboratory facilities that they have provided. Mr. Lee Sing Kong, Dr. Tan Wee Kiat, Mr. Koh Poo Kiong, Ms. Kalthom Abdul Latiff, Mr. Rahmat, and other staff members have been constant supporters of my research. P&R and NParks provided funds for several years to hire a historical research team, members of which included Ms. Rajwant Kaur, Ms. Uma Devi, Ms. Aziani, Dr. Saroja Devi, Ms. Lucille Yap, Mr. Shah Alam, and Ms. Tan Teng Teng. The Asia Research Institute and American Express provided funding that enabled me to compensate the labours of Mr. Roeland Stulemeijer, Mr. Lim Chen Sian, Mr. Andrew Cowan, and Mr. Richard Gibson.
Many other students and teachers from NUS and other Singapore institutions of learning, from primary schools to junior colleges, have made significant contributions to Singapore archaeology; I hope they have benefited too. In 2011 the Archaeology Unit of the Nalanda-Sriwijaya Centre, Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, was inaugurated. This institution will be instrumental in writing the future chapters in the archaeology of Singapore and Southeast Asia. I wish to express my gratitude to Ambassador K. Kesavapany, director of ISEAS; Prof. Tansen Sen, head of the Nalanda-Sriwyaya Centre; and Mr. Lim Chen Sian and Mrs. Foo Shu Tieng, my co-workers in the Archaeology Unit, for their continuing contributions to the field of Singapore archacology.
The Southeast Asian Ceramic Society has been another principal source of support for Singapore archaeology. Among the many members of the Society who have helped, I would like to mention in Mrs. Marjorie Chu and Mr. Alvin Chia, past Presidents of the Society, and the late Dr. Earl Lu, whose good offices enabled me to obtain several grants from the Lee Foundation, to which I would also like to express my sincere gratitude. The National Heritage Board has been another important supporter of archaeological research. Mr. Ng Ching Huei of the National Museum of Singapore has inspired many volunteers from Singapore’s Chinese-speaking community. Ms. Cheryl-Ann Low Mei Gek worked for years to whip this book into shape; her imprint is to be found on every page of this work. Ms. Lee Chor Lin, former head of the National Museum; Mr. Iskander Mydin, Senior Curator; and Dr. Kenson Kwok, former head of the Asian Civilisations Museum, also deserve my gratitude.
Mrs. Constance Sheares and Mr. Kwa Chong Guan of the former National Museum invited me to come to Singapore in 1984 for the first expedition to Fort Canning, which was sponsored by Royal Dutch Shell. Mr. Lam Pin Foo was instrumental in convincing the company to support the first excavation. Messrs. Kwa and Lam have been major sources of support for Singapore archaeology ever since 1984. Singaporeans owe a debt of gratitude to their vision and initiative.
The Friends of the National Museum have provided indispensable support over the years. My talks to the Friends have been a small price to pay for the thousands of hours of assistance that the members of this organization have provided. Other names that deserve to be recorded for their service in making this book possible include Mrs. Julia Oh and the late Mrs. Sue Hixson, who took leading roles in several early excavations. Mr. Marvin Hixson and his company, AMKCO Process Equipment Pte Ltd, Singapore, loaned me a particle separator in 2000 that made it possible to sieve through about 30 tons of dirt and recover several thousand beads and other small artifacts. That contribution was greatly appreciated.
Officers of the Urban Redevelopment Authority have also been kind supporters through the years. I would especially like to acknowledge the assistance of Mr. Nelson Chia, Mr. Michael Lee, and Mr. Kelvin Ang. Other organizations who are owed major debts of gratitude for facilitating specific research projects include St. Andrew’s Cathedral, the Secretary of Parliament, Singapore Management University, and the Tanjong Pagar Community Centre.
Other scholars who have very kindly shared their knowledge with me include Dr. Yolanda Crowe on Islamic ceramics, and Dr. Ivo Vasiljev who discussed the fourteenth-century Vietnamese reference to Temasik with me. Finally, I would like to mention Dr. Geoff Wade, who discussed the DYZL exhaustively with me, and Mrs. Erika Lambsdorff, who contributed drawings of artifacts. Dr. Goh Geok Yian, assistant professor at Nanyang Technological University has participated in many excavations in Singapore since 1991, including directing several of them; translated several Chinese documents, drew many of the artifact illustrations, maps, and diagrams in this book, and supervised volunteers from the Friends of the Museum and students from numerous institutions. Her assistance has likewise been invaluable in the development of Singapore archaeology.
THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF SINGAPORE: FORGOTTEN HINTS
If the Indian Ocean, the South China Sea, and the Java Sea are the arteries |: Asian sea trade, the Straits of Melaka is its heart. Commerce has flowed steadily through these arteries for more than 2,000 years. This introduction will show how an ancient maritime trade network evolved in Southeast Asia and gradually spread westward to India and eastward to China, forming an immense network linking millions of people spread along a coastline measuring more than 10,000 kilometres. This sea route is over 2,000 years old.
Several names have been suggested for this seaborne network. In this book, the name “Silk Road of the Sea” has been chosen. The term “Silk Road” has long been used to refer to the overland trade route from the Mediterranean across central Asia to China. Most who hear the term easily conjure up images of strings of heavily-laden camels, empty deserts, isolated caravanserais, constant threats of banditry, and doughty merchants willing to undergo immense hardships in order to reach the great civilization of China and return with precious luxuries to make themselves rich for life. The commodity that symbolizes this trade is silk: light, delicate, durable, and worth its weight in gold in western lands (Warmington 1928: 175).
Historical sources tell us that silk was also shipped to the West by sea by the first century AD (Warmington 1928). Few pieces of ancient silk have survived on land; none in the ocean. It was not one of the original commodities traded in south coastal Asia; nevertheless, desire for silk was one of the main forces that led to the great expansion of the network beginning in the seventh century. The combination of the familiar term “silk road” with “the sea” underlines the notion that, despite the fact that the overland route was much better known, in ancient times much of the trade and communication between East and West occurred over water.
This book enables readers to appreciate the importance of another route that was much more important—from both commercial and cultural points of view—than the overland road, fabled though it was. Replace the camel with the ship, change the dusty dry deserts to an immensity of water; instead of the caravanserai, imagine a chain of seaports on the edge of the great Asian landmass; instead of nomadic robbers, think of pirates. Most of all, instead of small stocks of lightweight items like cloth, envision shipping 50,000 ceramic bowls, glass bottles of perfume, and hundreds of passengers all in one vessel, and you will begin to understand why the Silk Road of the Sea deserves more attention than it has received.
The famous Silk Road that ran across central Asia has received a great deal of attention. The Silk Road of the Sea, by contrast, has been almost completely ignored. This illustrates the ignorance that until recently characterized the field of early seaborne commerce in Asia. As part of a long process of evolution, ancient Singapore played a role in the overall development of maritime trade in Asia. Only when readers are equipped with an understanding of the development of shipping and ports in early Southeast Asia will they be able to appreciate the complexity of the network that stimulated Singapore’s foundation in around 1300.
THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF SINGAPORE: FORGOTTEN HINTS
Many people believe that Singapore’s history began with the arrival of Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles in 1819. Raffles himself was under no such illusion: he was going to revive an ancient seaport that already had a glorious history.
Upon landing on the island, he immediately found ancient remains that reassured him of Singapore’s earlier significance. Raffles expounded upon the glory of ancient Singapura to his friends even before he visited the island. It was probably one topic of conversation at dinners in the cabin of the Indiana (Fig 0.01), Raffles’ expeditionary vessel that first brought him to this shore.
Raffles’ own shipmates were rather skeptical of his theory that Singapore was an ancient place. John Crawford (a ship’s captain who was part of Raffles’ party in January 1819), looked around the area that is now called the Padang, and wrote:
Where the tents are pitched, the ground is level above one mile, partly cleared of the jungle, with a transparent fresh water brook or rivulet running through it... . This spot of ground is the site of the very ancient city and fort of Singapore. . .. No remnants of its former grandeur exist, not the slightest vestige of it has ever been discovered. As for the strength of the fortifications, no remains are to be seen excepting by those possessing a fertile imagination and can trace the foundation or parts of earthen bastions in a mound of earth that lines the beach and winds round the margins of the creek. ... Sir Stamford found accounts of itin a very old Malay work. (Moore 1969: 20)
According to Sophia, Raffles’ second wife, he had decided even before leaving England in 1817 that Singapore would be the most advantageous place for a stopping-off point for British ships between India and China. Why Singapore? After all, Col. William Farquhar, who had substantial experience in the region, favoured Karimun Island, which was in the middle of the south entrance to the Straits of Malacca. However, as one of Raffles’ biographers wrote about him, “it was characteristic of Raffles that in his political planning he loved to have a historic background for his actions” (Wurtzburg 1984: 454). At that time, the Dutch possessed Malacca, which dated to the fifteenth century and also had aprestigious history among Southeast Asians. Raffles probably hoped to outshine the Dutch by attracting Malay trade to Malacca’s predecessor—Singapore. On 12 December 1818, Raffles wrote to his aged friend William Marsden, who had lived for years in Bencoolen, Sumatra: “you must not be surprised if my next letter to you 1s dated from the site of the ancient city of Singapura”.
Raffles collected manuscripts in the course of his constant study of Southeast Asian history and culture. The most famous is known as Raffles Manuscript 18, the oldest known version of the work commonly known as the Sejarah Melayu or “Malay Annals”. Manuscript 18 describes the origins of the Malay royal family in Palembang, and its migrations to Singapore, Malacca, Johor, and Riau. Singapore plays a major role in the Malay Annals: it was described as the first great Malay trading port. Numerous seminal developments and events that shaped Malay culture in the reigns of first five Malay kings are set in this city. According to the Annals, the Malays only moved their capital to Melaka when forced to do so when Singapura was attached by Java.
Raffles was quite satisfied with the evidence of Singapore’s antiquity that he found there. He wrote to his patroness Princess Charlotte, the Duchess of Somerset: [i]n Marsden’s map of Sumatra you will observe an Island to the north of these straits called Singapura; this is the spot, the site of the ancient maritime capital of the Malays, and within the walls of these fortifications, raised not less than six centuries ago, on which I have planted the British flag. (Moore 1969: 31)
Raffles and Archaeology
Antiquities were one of Raffles’ many interests. Although the science of archaeology did not exist yet, Raffles was more perceptive than many of his contemporaries, who sometimes collected antiques but thought of them as mere curiosities. Raffles had a truly anthropological cast of mind. He saw the remains of the art and culture of past peoples of Southeast Asia as a means to understanding their descendants.
During his term as the head of government in Java from 1811 to 1816, Raffles encouraged people to scour the forests for natural samples and bring him relics of the past. He organized teams of draftsmen to sketch ancient ruins. He attempted to decipher inscriptions and manuscripts. The result of this research occupies a large part of the History of Java (1817). His choice of Singapore as a site for a new port makes perfect sense when seen in this context.
Discoveries in the Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries
John Crawfurd, whose name is confusingly similar to that of the skeptical sea captain mentioned earlier (John Crawford), performed the closest thing to an archaeological survey ever conducted in Singapore. On February 3, 1821, while calling at Singapore in the course of a diplomatic mission to Siam and Cochin China (south Vietnam), Crawfurd took a morning stroll. His description of this walk was published in London in 1828 [reprinted in Wheatley’s The Golden Khersonese (1960): 120-2. Crawfurd’s Descriptive Dictionary of the Indian Archipelago (1856): 402 contains much of the same information; see also R. Braddell 1969: app., 22-3]. Crawfurd mistakenly assumed that the long axis of Fort Canning Hill ran from east to west.
It is in fact oriented north-northwest to south-southeast. Crawfurd described the greater part of the northern and western sides of the hill as being covered with brick ruins. The only ruin in Crawfurd’s account the location of which can be determined today is the Keramat Iskandar Shah, which is on the east side of the hill. Therefore, it seems to make more sense to replace “west” with “north”, and so on. This is what I have done in the following summary: Crawfurd set off on his walk from the centre of the early British enclave, the flat ground north of the Singapore River today called the Padang. At the northeast edge of the Padang (now Stamford Road) was a substantial earth wall 16 feet (5 metres) wide at its base and 8 or 9 feet (2.5 metres) high, with a small brook flowing beside it. This feature, which Raffles and Captain Crawford referred to as a “fortification” or “bastion”, is clearly labeled on a map drawn in 1822, as the “Old Lines of Singapore”; the brook is called the Freshwater Stream (see Fig. 0.07).
A small black-painted iron plaque on the north side of Stamford Road, opposite the Singapore Sports Club, commemorates a bridge that once crossed the Freshwater Stream. Pedestrians who read the plaque must be puzzled by the absence not only of a bridge, but also of a visible stream. The Freshwater Stream still exists, but now its lower course flows through an artificial underground channel. The upstream portion can still be seen near Mount Sophia, at the junction of Stamford Road and Bras Basah Road, near the site of the former Cathay Building.
The Dutch scholar G. P. Rouffaer, who speculated about Singapore’s ancient history in 1918, was apparently aware of the existence of the 1822 map. Although he does not mention it, the geographer Paul Wheatley probably knew of the map, since he shows the wall in the same location as the 1822 map in his book The Golden Khersonese (1961, Fig. 15). I had not yet seen this map in 1985 when I wrote my first book on ancient Singapore, and had supposed that the wall joined the southeast rather than northeast side of Fort Canning Hill. I now know that I was mistaken. However, I still believe that the “palace and temple precinct” was not on the west slope of the hill as Wheatley’s map and Crawfurd’s account indicate, but on the north and east, near the present Keramat. The southwest slope facing River Valley Road is very steep, and surveys and test excavations there have yielded no remains compared with the dense archaeological deposits, including fragments of ancient brick buildings, found on the northeast slope.
A Chinese visitor, Wang Dayuan, mentions an attack by Siamese in about 1330 when the people of Temasik “shut up their gates”. The Malay Annals also mention that ancient Singapore had a city wall with a gate. Crawfurd reports that the earthen rampart was a continuous embankment with no sign of any gaps. Gates were probably unnecessary since the wall only ran along one side of the city rather than completely around it; the other three sides of the site had natural defences consisting of water or hills. Excavation in Bras Basah Park (now the site of Singapore Management University) yielded no evidence of any ancient settlement north of the wall, so that no gate would have been necessary. Perhaps the royal residence on Fort Canning Hill had a palisaded stockade with a gate.
Crawfurd saw no ruins on the plain. Aside from the Old Lines, the other sites of antiquities in Singapore lay on the hill and at the mouth of the Singapore River. On the hill were “a sepulchre” and a supposed temple, and at the river’s mouth, a boulder, artificially split, with an ancient inscription carved on it.
Singapore’s inhabitants in 1819 called the hill Bukit Larangan, “Forbidden Hill”. The Aikayat Abdullah, written by Raffles’ Malay teacher, recounts a conversation between Col. Farquhar and Tengku Abdul Rachman, the local official or temenggong who controlled Singapore on behalf of the Sultanate of Riau. Abdullah’s account of this conversation echoes another in the Malay Annals between Indra Bopal, representing the established island dwellers, and Sri Tri Buana, the leader of a group of newcomers. The Tengku described the hill as the site of an ancient palace to which common people were not allowed to ascend. Bukit Larangan was also regarded with awe because of strange sounds that emitted from there, and the presence of ghosts whom locals, even in the 1920s, believed haunted the hill. Crawfurd found that brick foundations covered “the greatest part” of two sides of the hill. Around the foundations, he saw fragments of Chinese and local pottery “in great abundance”, as well as Chinese coins with dates as early as 967. These do not prove that a settlement existed in Singapore at that time. Such coins remained in circulation for centuries in Southeast Asia. At Kota Cina, northeast Sumatra, site of a Song-Yuan period trading port, coins from the Sui, Tang, Five Dynasties, and Song periods were used in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries (Edwards McKinnon 1977). Very few copper coins were minted during the Yuan period, when paper money came into general use in China (Kuwabara 1928).
The largest ruin, a square structure measuring about 12 metres on each side, lay on a terrace near the summit of the hill. Near the Telecoms Building, which is now at the southeast end of Fort Canning Hill, Crawfurd saw square sandstone blocks resembling pillar bases found on ancient sites in Indonesia and Malaysia. These were probably remains of a pavilion with wooden pillars supporting a roof. He also found a circular heap of stones enclosed by a low square wall.
Wang Dayuan, in the fourteenth century, and Tomé Pires, a Portuguese official in Melaka in 1515, both reported that Malay palaces were customarily situated on terraced hills. The remains in Fort Canning Park probably marked the site of an ancient palace. Malay palaces usually had an audience pavilion facing the area where commoners lived; the pillared structure may have been such a pavilion, called a pendopo in Bahasa Indonesia.
Crawfurd was told that another terrace, almost as large, was the grave of “a ruler”. He did not record any further details about the spot. “A rude structure” was quickly built at the site, which is now known as the Keramat Iskandar Shah (Figs. 0.08-0.12). When Rouffaer visited the Keramat in 1909, he found a dome similar to tombs in south Sulawesi which are no older than the seventeenth century. There was no inscription to identify the supposed occupant of the tomb (Rouffaer 1921: 64, 380). Sir Roland Braddell published a photograph in the early twentieth century captioned “the tomb of Iskandar Shah, Singapore” (Braddell 1982: opposite p. 57). The photograph shows a wooden bridge across a moat, beyond which a set of pillars forms the entrance to the compound where a low square-roofed structure stands. A guidebook of 1892 instructs visitors that, “crossing part of the old moat [the parit Singapura] by a wooden bridge, the visitor enters the said place [i.e., the Keramat]” (Reith 1892: 60).
According to the Hikayat Abdullah, a spring of water flowed from the west side of the hill in 1819 (Hill 1962: 42). This was known as pancur larangan, “the forbidden spring”. According to legend, women of the ruler’s household in ancient times bathed there. Ancient bathing sites are well-known in Indonesian archacology. Some had brick or stone walls and works of art such as statuary, ornamental water spouts, and relief carvings. No remains were recorded from the pancur larangan, but soon after the British discovered it, they constructed an aqueduct that carried water from the spring to a tank on the river bank, near the present junction of River Valley Road and Hill Street. This spring supplied all the water needed by visiting ships through the 1820s. Ships in the harbour sent their skiffs up the Singapore River with barrels that could be filled from the tank without the need to step ashore.
By the 1830s the demand for water outstripped the spring’s capacity, and wells were dug around the foot of the hill. This apparently killed off the spring. By 1857the government had constructed a pair of tanks for water supply on the west side of the hill; thus the name “Tank Road” was given to a street at the north foot of the hill, now called Clemenceau Avenue. After Singapore became independent, the site became a large municipal swimming pool, keeping the 700-year-old tradition alive. The swimming pool in turn was replaced by the Fort Canning office of the National Parks Board at a spot now called The Foothills.
Crawfurd found a grove of very old fruit trees growing on the south side of the hill. Another common feature of old Southeast Asian palaces consists of royal gardens with fruit trees and flowering plants. Numerous examples still exist in Cirebon, Yogyakarta, Surakarta, Bali, and Lombok (Figs. 0.14, 0.15). A seventh-century inscription from the vicinity of Palembang, which according to the Malay Annals was the origin of Singapore’s ruling family, announced that the ruler had founded a park for the pleasure of humankind.
The Aikayat Abdullah also mentions that the old garden at the lower slope of Fort Ganning/Forbidden Hill included old trees of varieties such as duku, lime, pomelo, langsat, petai, and jering (Hill 1960: 168). These must have stood forth prominently in the scenery of early nineteenth-century Singapore, for, according to contemporary descriptions, few large trees then grew on the hill. On the shore near the mouth of the Singapore River grew kamunting (Rhodomyrtus spp.) and kadadu (Melastoma malabathricum?), both small shrubs which grow in abandoned clearings. Thus the site of the ancient city was covered not by virgin jungle, but by secondary growth.
The Malay Annals tells the story of a strongman, Badang, who threw a large stone from the ruler’s palace (probably Fort Canning Hill) to Singapore Point, the mouth of the Singapore River. Exactly at the latter spot, Crawfurd saw a large sandstone boulder. J. W. Laidlay, second secretary of the Asiatic Society of Bengal described the discovery of the stone in June 1819, “on the rocky point on the south side of the entrance of the Singapore Creek. That point was covered with forest trees and jungle in 1819, and the stone was brought to notice by some Bengal clashees” (1848: 70). According to Abdullah Munshi, the stone was found while rocks were being collected to fill in the swamp where Raffles Place now stands. Another nearby stone was called Batu Kepala Todak, “Garfish Head Rock”, by the orang laut (boat-dwelling sea nomads) (for more information about them, see chapter 1) who considered it a significant religious object. Abdullah observed that “they are accustomed to make all their solemn agreements [at the rock], as they hold it in reverence. They also pay great respect to the rock, decorating it with flags” (Hill 1960: 145, 165-6). Rouffaer (1921: 33) mistakenly inferred that the Singapore Stone and the Batu Kepala Todak were the same rock.
The boulder was split in two. Since a round boulder that is split into two pieces will normally crack along a straight line, thus producing two opposing and relatively flat surfaces (Fig. 0.16), the people who split the stone probably wanted to create a flat surface suitable for carving an inscription. The rock was three metres high and three metres wide; one side had been carved to leave a raised rim which enclosed 50 or 52 lines of writing in an unknown script on an area 2.1 metres wide and 1.5 metres high. J. Prinsep, an orientalist in Calcutta, studied a rubbing of the stone and noted that 40 lines were discernible, but that about 12 lines at the beginning had been rubbed off; he does not attempt to explain why or how [Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal 6 (1837): 681, cited by Rouffaer 1918: 36].
The stone was blown up in 1843 when the site was requisitioned by the army to build quarters for the commander of Fort Fullerton. The site has been subsequently known by various names: Artillery Point, Fort Fullerton, and the Master Attendant’s Office (Gibson-Hill 1956: 24; Rouffaer 1921: 35 has a slightly different account). When Singapore became independent, a new monument, the Merlion, was erected at the same spot, before it was moved about 100 meters south in the early twenty-first century.
Col. James Low, a British army officer with an interest in antiquities, arrived just after the stone had been demolished and managed to salvage several fragments of it, which he hired a Chinese worker to carve into smaller slabs. As Low wrote, “It happens, however, that the smaller fragments only contain the most legible (if the term is even here really applicable) parts of the inscription”; he sent three slabs to Calcutta, where they arrived in about June 1848 (Low 1848: 65-6).
Another officer, Col. W. J. Butterworth (governor of Singapore from 1843 to 1855), found another fragment across the river, on the verandah of the Singapore Treasury, now Empress Place, where guards were using it as a bench. He ordered the fragment to be taken to his house on Government Hill (later Fort Canning), and later sent to Calcutta. It seems that more pieces were saved, but were later lost. For example, W. H. Read saw a large fragment of the inscription “at the corner of Government House, where Fort Canning is now; but during the absence of the Governor at Penang on one occasion, the convicts, requiring stone to replace the road, chipped up the valuable relic of antiquity” (cited in Rouffaer 1921: 54). Pieces of the ancient stone are thus now scattered over a wide area of Singapore, stretching from the river all the way to Fort Canning Hill.
In 1918 the Committee of Management of the Raffles Museum and Library asked to have the fragments of the stone returned to Singapore, and the Calcutta Museum agreed to send them back on an extended loan [Rouffaer 1921: 59 citing One Hundred Years of Singapore (1921), vol. 1, 57]. The Annual Report on the Raffles Museum and Library For the Year 1919 [cf. J. C. Moulton, Singapore: Government Printing Office (1921), 3] notes that a fragment of the Singapore Stone had arrived on indefinite loan from the Trustees of the Indian Museum. In 2013, at the time this was written, it was on display in the National Museum of Singapore (Fig 0.17). The other pieces are presumed to be still in Calcutta.
In 1989, Mr. Kwa Chong Guan, then head of the Singapore National Museum, and I visited the director of the Calcutta Museum’s successor, the Indian Museum, and inquired about the location of the other two pieces. We were told that they was probably somewhere in the Museum’s storage area, but that they had no definite knowledge of it. One imagines the final scene of the movie Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, with the fragments of the stone kept in the storage area of the Indian Museum, which is a huge warehouse. It is hoped that these fragments will someday be rediscovered.
No important discoveries were added to the inventory of archaeological finds from Singapore for the next 85 years. The summit of the hill, which was originally cone-shaped, was flattened when Fort Canning was built in the late 1850s. Despite the probability that the hilltop would have been rich in antiquities, no discoveries were reported. In 1928, the fort was demolished and a reservoir covering seven acres (three hectares) was dug. During this operation, a cache of gold ornaments, including an armlet, ear ornaments, and a ring with designs of distinctive character, were found at a depth of ten feet (three metres) just below the original ground surface (i.e., that existing before the hilltop was leveled) (see chapter 5).
The ring bore an incised design of a goose, one of the regalia of the royal house of Surakarta (central Java), and the symbol of the vehicle of Brahma, one of the three principal gods of the Hindu trinity. Two armlets were found, of which only one remains; the other, along with the finger ring, disappeared during the 1940s. The armlets depict the face of a demon often known as Aala. In Hindu mythology, Kala stole the elixir of immortality and tried to drink it. The god Vishnu chopped his head off with a sword, but the top half of Aala’s head had already touched the elixir and therefore could not die. The head of Aala therefore symbolizes immortality. Aa/a heads were popular motifs in Javanese temples of the eighth through fifteenth centuries, and as ornamentation on statuary. A large
mage from West Sumatra carved in the fourteenth century is depicted wearing a very similar ornament (Fig 0.18). P. V. van Stein Callenfels, a Dutch archaeologist with extensive experience in Java, stated that the gold ornaments found on Fort Canning reminded him of the best fourteenth-century Javanese craftsmanship (Winstedt 1969).
Pauline Scheurleer, a contemporary scholar specializing in ancient Javanese metalwork, in a letter dated 22 August 2001, informed me that she was not convinced of the antiquity of the kala head (Fig. 0.19). Regarding the objects from the hoard, she writes:
They are of a type of ornaments I know well from Java; except, however, for one of them: the pair of bracelets with the clasp in the shape of a karttumukha [another name for the kala motif]. Iam pretty certain that this pair was made in South India and to me they look somewhat ‘late’. I do not know how late, but perhaps 18th century, but I may be wrong. Compare the kirttimukha with Usha R. Bala Krishnan and Meera Sushil Kumar, Dance of the Peacock, Delhi 1999, pl. no. 152 (20th cent.), and with p. 36 above (early 19th cent.) M. L. Nigam, Indian Jewellery, New Delhi 1999, and compare the type of bracelet with M. L. Nigam, Indian Jewellery, p. 85 (Mughal style in Rajasthan, 18th cent).
It is true that the kala head armlet looks very “Indian”. The intricacy of the design, the protruding knobs around the face, and the form of the face itself, have a definitive character that appears more Indian than Javanese. The armlets also have a very complicated system of clasps that allows them to be opened and closed to facilitate putting them on and off. On the other hand, all the items were found in the same spot, according to the report, so they should be of the same approximate date. No one has yet argued that the finger ring and ear ornaments are recent.
The difference in style may indicate that the kala ornament was made in a different location than the “Javanese-style” gold. Nothing is known of fourteenth-century gold artistry in Sumatra. An inscription in an Indian language (Tamil) has been found in West Sumatra, near the fourteenth-century palace of Adityawarman, who styled himself Aanakamedinindra (“Gold Land Lord”). Indian jewellery may have reached Singapore in the fourteenth century; alternatively, goldwork in the Sumatra-Singapore area may have shared stylistic traits with Indian work. Yet another possibility is that the Sumatran-Malay gold artistry actually influenced Indian craft; Indian folklore preserves the story of at least one Sumatran goldsmith who went to India.
These objects were found only a few metres from the Keramat. The site of the 1928 discovery now lies within a fence surrounding the service reservoir atop Fort Canning Hill (Fig. 0.20). The exact spot is marked by a small concrete-block structure (Fig. 0.21), and is off-limits to archaeological investigation.
The gold finds of 1928 were the last relics of Singaporean antiquity to attract public notice. During the next few decades the Old Lines, the Singapore Stone, and even the golden hoard were forgotten. The general public grew accustomed to the assumption that Singapore was “founded” by Sir Stamford Raffles in January 1819. Ironically, he himself never claimed this role. He always characterized his formation of a British settlement in Singapore as an attempt to revive an ancient trading port.
Excavations in Singapore during a period of 28 years from 1984 to 2012 have shed new light on the people who inhabited the south-central area of this island during the fourteenth through sixteenth centuries, a particularly interesting period in history. These archaeological remains allow us to confirm ancient texts that suggest that Singapore became a port of some significance soon after 1300. This research proves that a settlement along the Singapore River grew rapidly and reached a high level of prosperity that lasted for most of the fourteenth century. Several kinds of manufacturing activity were conducted along the riverbank. Inhabitants of Singapore then imported a wide assortment of items from China and India, some of very high quality. The settlement shrank during the Melaka sultanate in the fifteenth century, but continued to be an official outpost of Melaka and its successor, Johor-Riau, until early in the seventeenth century.
A quarter century of archaeological and historical research has transformed our knowledge of ancient Singapore. It is now the best-known fourteenth-century city in Southeast Asia. It is also the oldest confirmed site of an ancient overseas Chinese community. Future research can build upon the work in Singapore to study the effects of early Chinese immigration on Southeast Asian society in general. Archacological data suggests that collaboration between Chinese immigrants, local officials, and traders from many parts of Southeast Asia brought about the rapid development of this port strategically located at the confluence of Asian maritime trade routes.
Ancient Singapore shared several general characteristics with other early ports in the Straits of Melaka, but also possessed some unique features. These features may be due to a particularly close relationship with China and the development of a settled Chinese community ruled by people we now call Malays [the term “Malay” has gone through many shifts of meaning over the centuries, see the Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 32, | (2001)]. Itis highly probable that traders from other parts of Asia, including Indonesia, India, and Sri Lanka, also resided in Singapore, creating a multiethnic population similar to that which developed after Raffles revived the ancient port. There is no evidence of cultural conflict in this period. The different communities in ancient Singapore seem to have developed a symbiotic relationship in which all understood the benefits of collaboration and cooperation.
Singapore’s golden age came to an abrupt end just before 1400. Archaeological remains however prove that the island was not abandoned. A settlement with external trading connections continued to survive along the Singapore River until around 1600. Thereafter a historical and archaeological vacuum ensues, lasting until approximately 1800. Around 1811, the river was reoccupied by a small population affiliated with the Riau Sultanate on Bintan Island.
Thus matters stood when Raffles arrived. His goal was not to found a new port; it was to revive the glory that he believed Singapore had once possessed as the first great Malay trading centre. Although he was partly mistaken in this belief (Malay entrepots in south Sumatra were several centuries older), he was not completely wrong either. It has however taken almost two centuries to show how close he came to being right.
This book begins by describing the first major ports in Southeast Asia (chapter 1). This background is necessary to put ancient Singapore in historical perspective. Ancient Singapore was never a major political centre, but Southeast Asian empires fought to control it. Perhaps it was Singapore’s geographically and politically marginal position that attracted early Chinese settlers. In contrast to the restrictions on foreigners typical of major ports in Sumatra and Java, traders in smaller ports may have been allowed more latitude to conduct their activities.
The South China Sea has been compared to the Mediterranean as a cradle of culture. This comparison may be apt in some ways, but fails to do justice to Southeast Asia’s complexity. Urbanization in Singapore’s environs took a different course from Europe or other major Asian regions. Southeast Asia’s sparse population and high ecological diversity favoured a different trajectory of development.
Scholars are still grappling with the need to think creatively about the evolutionary processes that led to the formation of Southeast Asian settlements, which people now recognize as cities. Singapore is one of the oldest urban sites in Southeast Asia for which we have detailed information about the distribution of people, artifacts, and activities over a large area. By telling the stories encapsulated in these artifacts, we can create a portrait of life in ancient Singapore. Readers can judge for themselves whether they would have found the atmosphere and lifestyle of this place strange or strangely familiar. Ancient Singapore played a role in the overall development of maritime trade in Asia and its emergence in the fourteenth century was the result of a long-term process of development. Chapters | to 3 of this book summarize important recent discoveries regarding the Silk Road of the Sea that laid the foundation for Singapore’s appearance on the scene.
Chapter 4 summarizes historical sources on ancient Singapore. More knowledge about fourteenth-century Singapore now comes from archacological discoveries. Chapters 5 through 11 provide a history of the first 25 years of archaeological research in Singapore, and descriptions of the major finds. Research is still in progress, and many new facets of life in this ancient city will be revealed by future discoveries. We already have over 500,000 artifacts from ancient Singapore, more than enough to draw detailed conclusions about this city.
For the benefit of the specialist, considerable space has been devoted to the technical description of the way archaeological research has been conducted here, how data has been acquired, and the different inferences that could be drawn from the evidence. Some readers may find this tedious, but this process will clarify why many assumptions about Singapore’s history are now considered wrong. I have endeavored to make the discussion as accessible as possible to the general reader, while at the same time including enough scientific material to enable archacologists to judge the reliability of the conclusions advanced here. No doubt some of these will be modified by future research.
The socioeconomic complexity of ancient Singapore has been slowly revealed through the gradual accumulation of tens of thousands of small fragments over 28 years. Very few intact items have been discovered. No burials have yet come to light. All artifacts found here represent thrash discarded when deemed no longer useful. Such remains are difficult for the unspecialized eye to discern. This is why ancient Singapore was able to evade detection for so long.
Information on ancient Singapore after 1400 is less comprehensive than for the fourteenth century, but we can use the little data we have to build a general picture of the settlement during the period of the Melaka sultanate and its successors in Johor and Riau up to about 1600. After a hiatus of about 200 years, Singapore revived when a new settlement was founded around the river mouth in 1811, followed by the start of the colonial period in 1819. While the archaeology of nineteenth- and early-twentieth-century Singapore is a separate topic, comparisons between precolonial and colonial Singapore show how life in a port with a sizeable overseas Chinese community differed between two eras separated by 500 years. Colonial archaeology is the subject of chapter 12 of this book.
Archaeological research in Singapore has three major lessons to teach. First is the fact that Singapore has an impressive archaeological record to explore. This possibility was not considered until 1984, and even now few Singaporeans appreciate the potential of their country to contribute important data to the general study of the past of humankind. Second, ancient Singapore was advanced for its time: it was fortified, a rare feature in this time and region, and its inhabitants possessed several types of rare artifacts which have not yet been found anywhere else. Third, Singapore was a small but densely-populated city where a wide range of ethnic groups, occupations, and imports flourished. In this respect, it compares favourably with famous contemporary trading ports in the Mediterranean Sea.
The first Chinese “diaspora” may have begun before Singapore became a port, but we know almost nothing about the history, stability, or even locations of earlier overseas Chinese settlements. Singapore’s data give us the first reliable picture of what the earliest such settlements might have looked like. Singapore also gives us a clearer picture of pre-European trading systems in Southeast Asia, a subject on which much has been written, but for which few historical sources exist. The huge database produced by 28 years of excavations in Singapore allows scholars to probe such questions such as the range of goods traded and the interaction between long-distance and local trading systems.
Singapore is one of the oldest urban sites in Southeast Asia to have been thoroughly excavated. The data collected can be applied to the study of precolonial urbanization in Southeast Asia, and in the tropics in general, subjects that are still in a stage of infancy.
I hope that the publication of this book will serve to raise Singaporeans’ awareness of the fact that the rise of their small island nation is not a recent historical accident; it has a long tradition that deserves to be more widely appreciated. Singapore is one of the oldest capital cities of Southeast Asia: older than Jakarta, older than Ayutthaya, older than Manila or Yangon. Despite the discontinuous nature of this tradition due to the 200-year-long gap in occupation from 1600 to 1800, most societies find it comforting to learn that their identity has historical depth. Singapore’s ancient past is a potential source of wonder and enlightenment, appreciation of which has the potential to inspire many. It is to be hoped that this description of Singapore’s archaeology will enable more people to experience the joy that comes from imagining what one’s life might have been like had it been lived in the same place but in a different time.
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