The island of Penang, together with the strip of the mainland opposite, was leased by us from the Sultan of Kedah, over a hundred years ago, at a time when the rest of the coast was more or less under the influence of the Dutch. The rent is still paid regularly to the Sultan for the time being. In 1824, we came to an agreement with the Dutch who withdrew all claim to the Straits, while we left them undisturbed in the island region further south. This withdrawal of the Dutch, and the possession of Singapore, gave us the entire control of the Straits of Malacca. Since that time there have been some small additions to the area of British territory, but our chief work has been to bring the native States within our Sphere of Influence. The result in the last century, as we have already seen, was the formation of the Federated Malay States, governed by their native rulers with the advice and assistance of British officials. A British Civil Service, with native and Indian police, and a regiment of Indian soldiers, under British officers, assist in the work of administering the Federation. It is an interesting experiment, crowned by complete success, in the application of Western ideas and methods of organization to a semi-civilized people; and a similar system is gradually being introduced into the other Protected States. Here is a group of these native 18 rulers and British officials, representing the two sides of the combined administration.
Though we read a great deal about piracy and misrule in the old days, we must not think of the natives of Malaya as wholly given over to barbarism. The States, just as in India, had their own form of government and social organization, long before they came under our influence. They had their courts, palaces and public 19 buildings. The palace of the Sultan of Selangor, which we see here, reminds us strongly of some of the magnificent buildings in India. Side by side with it a British 20 Residency in the neighbouring State of Pahang seems an insignificant hut; but the hut represents efficiency in administration, while the Sikh sentry who guards it stands for the law and order which we have introduced.
Malay Peninsula: Physical.
The past development and future prospects of the 21 Peninsula can only be understood in the light of its geography. It has a great length of coastline, so that no part is very far from the sea, while access to the coast is easy on the west. But a mountain chain, stretching continuously from north to south, though nearer the west coast than the east, forms a difficult barrier between the States on either side, except in Johor, where it spreads out and becomes lower. The rainfall is heavy all the year round and the temperature rather like that of the palm house at Kew Gardens. As a result of these conditions, forty years ago the whole region of the lowland was a great jungle, with the Malay inhabitants living in scattered villages and clearings along the streams which offered the only means of movement. Before we 22 came there were no roads except the forest tracks such as we see here, formed by wild animals and used mainly by hunters. Now there are good roads all over the western side of the Peninsula, with rest-houses at intervals, maintained by Government for the benefit of travellers. These roads connect the towns of the interior with the sea or with the lower reaches of the rivers where they are navigable for large boats; while a trunk road now runs over the mountains, linking the railway in Selangor with Kuala Lipis on the Pahang river. Here 23 we have a scene on this road, with the old native bullock cart and the modern motor-car side by side. We can imagine that travel will be slow in these carts; and so it is; but off the road all movement whatever is impossible. Besides the roads there is now the completed trunk railway, running from Johor Bharu, where it (1) connects by steam ferry with the short line in Singapore island, right along the west of the Peninsula to the coast opposite Penang. The railway, like the roads, has branches connecting with ports on the coast, and on the east side a line is being pushed forward into the State of Pahang; this will ultimately pass through Kelantan and connect with the Siamese system. About half-way along the trunk line, in the State of Selangor, is Kuala Lumpur, the administrative centre of the Federated States.
When road and rail are not available, our sole resource is the water, which has always been a vital element in Malay life. We may travel in canoes of various kinds, and for long journeys we may hire a roomy houseboat, 24 such as we see here on the Pahang river. If no boats are to be had, we may build a raft of bamboo and 25 on it drift down stream. Our journey will not be without excitement, as there may be rapids to be negotiated, and we must be careful where we bathe, as there are 26 crocodiles in plenty. Near the river mouths and along the coast we find sailing boats, often of the junk type, which remind us of China; and the larger ports have their coasting steamers, owned in some cases by Chinese capitalists in Singapore.
Malaya, with its warmth, ample rainfall and many streams, is naturally the land of the rice swamp and coconut palm. As we travel southwards from Penang, the rice fields stretch monotonously mile after mile over the flat lands between the railway and the sea. These 27 great levels do not make good pictures, but here is one of them. The native in the foreground is beckoning eastern fashion, with the hand pointed downwards. The ditch beside him is an irrigation channel. The water is impounded in rough reservoirs on the valley slopes and allowed to flow down to these channels; sometimes, too, it is raised from a lower level by a primitive water wheel, with bamboo tubes fixed on its rim as buckets. Experience has made the native skilful in irrigation work of this kind.
The rice field, the coconut palm and the river provide the Malay with an easy living, supplemented in the past by the proceeds of occasional piracy. He was not likely to be industrious so long as his property was liable to be seized at any moment by his rulers or their deputies. The Malay, as we find him all over the East India Islands, will hunt, fish, sail a boat or fight with considerable energy and skill, but he takes ordinary life in an easy fashion. He has no desire for the business of money-making and prefers to live in his simple fashion in his own homestead or kampong. Let us look at some of 28 these native houses. They are all raised above the ground on piles, and usually have a kind of verandah 29 on one side; the interior is dark, as the native is not fond of windows. We notice the bamboo and the coconut palm near every house and shall probably come on the stream not very far away. This is the real Malaya: the aspect of the towns is very different. Here we find streets of houses and shops, but these are largely given 30 up to the natives of India or China, as we may guess from the signboards in the picture before us. Here, on the 31 other hand, we see the typical Malay, in his national costume, the bright coloured sarong or petticoat which 32 is worn both by men and women, with a light jacket of some kind to complete the dress. The Malays are Mohammedans, though not perhaps of a very rigid type. Here 33 we see the new mosque at Kuala Lumpur, fit to stand side by side with a palace; but the simple thatched or tiled 34 buildings which we find everywhere in the villages seem to agree better with our pictures of ordinary Malay life.
Though the Malay is largely occupied in agriculture, yet he has taken only a small share in the most important of recent movements, the artificial cultivation of rubber. All along the railway, outside the rice swamps, we find our view shut in by the tall trees of the forest. Here 35 is a glimpse where the forest has been thinned out a little, and here again is a corner of the jungle showing 36 the dense growth of fern and creeper. The constant rainfall and high temperature which give us the jungle have been found to be well suited to the growth of the Brazilian rubber tree. So here and there from the train we catch sight of a great clearing, with perhaps the young 37 rubber trees growing amid the roots and fallen trunks of the older forest. Or again we pass a plantation in a 38 more advanced stage; and if we pay the planter a visit we may see the coolies tapping the trees by slicing 39 the bark, and collecting the milky latex which when coagulated and smoked becomes rubber as we know it. The planter is English, perhaps from Ceylon; the coolies 40 who cluster round the bungalow to receive their pay are probably Tamils from India, since the Malay, though useful in the rough work of clearing to which he is accustomed, does not take readily to the steady work of cultivation.