January 24th.—It was night when the Salasie came in sight of Singapore. We are going to stop here about a fortnight, waiting for the Laos, a French boat, bound to Colombo and Marseilles. We put up again at the Hôtel d’Europe.
January 25th.—An English officer and his family occupy the apartment next door to ours. The children are shamefully spoilt by their mother, who never reproves them. They can’t keep quiet one minute and get into everybody’s way, getting hideous sounds out of two combs, and beating the drum into our ears. When they were attacked by a fit of bad humour, nobody could approach them in safety. They lay down on the floor and kicked and howled. Their manners at table d’hôte were of the worst, for they made as much noise as they could with their spoons and knives. I found this morning the youngest of the family, the best-loved child, an extremely troublesome little Saxon, beating his ayah (nurse) with the leg of his rocking-horse, which had come off. That insupportable brat has been instantly dispatched to bed by his father. The room opposite to us is occupied by a Dutch opera-singer, who is going on a tour to Siam. I heard her practising her exercises the whole morning.
January 26th.—Our Consul, Mr. Kleimenoff, is awfully nice to me. To-day he sent to me a bottle of milk, a rarity in these parts.
January 28th.—It is dreadfully hot. The tropical rain, which falls from time to time, does not refresh the air. Sergy intended to make an excursion to Bankok, but the signals of tempest are hoisted in the port, and I am wickedly pleased, for Sergy will remain at home.
January 29th.—The young Sultan of Johore paid an unexpected call to us in the afternoon, a fabulous creature, all covered with diamonds. This Hindoo prince is enormously rich, the greatest part of Malacca belonging to him.
Opposite our windows spreads a spacious lawn and pleasure grounds, where Englishmen, who carry their habits with them in all parts of the world, give themselves up to every kind of outdoor sport: golf, cricket, tennis, etc. The players look very nice in their white flannels and blue caps.
In Singapore it is the Chinese who possess the largest fortunes; the whole commerce of the place is in their hands. Every evening the Chinese merchants, after having ended their business in the city, drive round the Esplanade in smart carriages, drawn by big Australian horses, with a white groom on the back seat.
February 5th.—It is my birthday to-day. Our Consul gave me for my birthday gift a large basket with enormous cocoa-nuts filled with milk. This native beverage is very cool and refreshing.
The Hindoo colony of Singapore invited us to be present at a great annual festivity in honour of Siva, the god of good and evil. The whole town rushed to the famous heathen temple from which the procession was to proceed. We saw an enormous chariot of carved silver advancing, drawn by two sacred white bulls covered with rich clothes, shining with gold embroideries and spangles, their legs and horns decorated with bracelets. We were told that the chariot cost eighty thousand dollars. It held the statue of the Hindoo Trinity—Brahma, Vishnu and Siva—crowned with flowers. A great throng of natives, their faces and hands daubed with ashes, in the simplest of costumes—a mere white linen band, five fingers wide, passing round the hips, escorted the chariot, holding lighted torches. We left our shoes in charge of a turbaned man, and proceeded to the temple to which many thousands of people came from all parts to pay their vows. Thousands of pilgrims crowded through the gates, all straining towards the enclosure of the temple. About sixty men, dressed in white, beat tom-toms and howled in a piercing voice. We were deafened by the hideous music. We entered a magnificent hall, full of enormous columns, lit by Arabian lamps with glass panes framed in carved copper. On the floor stood a big copper incense-burner, loading the atmosphere with perfume. The interior of the temple is a veritable bazaar. A fantastic crowd surrounded us; they beat the drums, they sang, they danced. A group of bonzes (priests), naked to the waist, girded with a thick cord, came up to pour strong perfume on our hands, and offered us armfuls of fragrant jasmine, which spread a violent odour all over the temple. I was somewhat scared by all this noise, and giddy with the scent of crushed flowers heaped on the floor.
February 6th.—To-day my husband went with his suite to visit the Rajah of Johore in his dominions on the coast of Malacca. It took them two hours to reach his States. They crossed the strait that divides Singapore from Johore in a steamboat, and made the rest of the journey in rikshas. The Rajah wasn’t at home; my husband, nevertheless, was shown over the Palace, which had nothing remarkable about it. Numbers of articles, without any artistic value, were heaped up in the apartments. Sergy lunched at the Johore Club, from which he sent me a letter with a Johore post stamp for my collection.