“THUD! Thud!” I rap the antique door knocker firmly twice and then wait. The residence at the upscale Bukit Timah area is surprisingly easy to locate.
The door is flanked on both sides with numerous potted plants. The door suddenly opens just as I’m in the midst of admiring a ceramic pot decorated with pictures of colourful birds all around.
A middle aged Chinese woman dressed in a white short sleeved T-shirt over black pants materialises.
“I’m here for the interview,” I mutter nervously, my hands holding tightly on to my file and camera.
She smiles and promptly leads me to the living room where I’m instructed to wait.
The place is simply charming, with lovely oil paintings adorning the walls and glittering silver keepsakes lining the top of several Victorian era side tables. Very British indeed.
While waiting, I stand by the window to enjoy the sweeping views of the quiet garden outside.
It’s not long before the man I’ve come to see makes his appearance. My first impression of Richard Hale is that of a very unassuming man despite having spent a long career in international commercial banking before retiring in 1995.
Living in Singapore for more than 30 years, he has recently added “research into Singapore’s mercantile history in the 19th century” to his existing interests in ornithology and philately.
Gesturing for me to sit, he settles himself on the sofa nearby. I begin by congratulating him on his latest book, The Balestiers: The First American Residents of Singapore.
His response, after a lengthy pause, gives me a foretaste of what’s to come.
“Don’t congratulate me just yet. I still have a pile of notes as high as this table for books and articles which I hope will come out in time for Singapore’s modern bicentenary in 2019. Come and see me next year and I may have more to show you,” he replies wryly.
In an enigmatic start to his book, Hale confides: “The foreign Caucasian merchants who set up in Singapore between 1820 and 1850 were but few and out of these even fewer names remain in our consciousness today. People like Guthrie, Boustead, Fraser and Little may strike a chord but little more.”
He continues, recounting his delight coming across, in America, a substantial file of personal letters written by Maria Balestier from Singapore between her arrival in 1834 and her death in 1847.
“In them, Maria described to her sister and sister-in-law in Massachusetts the daily life led by her family and the varied people they met and knew. No one in Singapore today knew of the existence of these letters,” he adds.
Transcribing her handwriting, Hale discovered Maria’s first hand and unrestrained comments on individuals and their ways of life in early 19th century Singapore. He describes them as nothing less than invaluable.
Had it not been for his publishers, he confides that he’d have preferred to call his book, “Mrs Maria Revere Balestier and her husband Joseph”, taking into account Maria’s true stoic qualities, heroism and strength of will in addition to kindness to those in need.
THE GOOD WIFE
During her time in Singapore, Maria proved to be an invaluable and trustworthy companion to her husband.
At times she had to assume the role of a counsellor to Joseph, oftentimes bolstering his lagging spirits whenever he was depressed or worried.
His face brightening, Hale recalls an incident when Maria was nursing Joseph back to health after he suffered a serious accident to his leg.
In that particular letter, Maria wrote of some native merchants who were quite astonished to see her waiting upon her husband. One of them paid her a very peculiar compliment: “Mem was a very good wife, did so much for Tuan, she was as good as a coolie,” reads Hale, with a chuckle. Smiling, Hale reveals that he became as impatient as Maria’s sister to read the next instalment when he was transcribing her (Maria’s) letters.
“Her letters brought home to me the most painful sense of isolation and home-sickness that Maria felt in this new island home, without good friends or letters of introduction, with hardly any money but a compelling need to keep up appearances,” he recollects.
He shares with me that in those days, letters from home took six months to arrive and answers to Maria’s letters would at times take up to a year to reach her!
His book in his hand, Hale continues to narrate what hospitality was like in early Singapore.
“Maria’s letters are full of references to and descriptions of her guests. In those days, it was usual for travellers to bring with them letters of introduction. As the so-called hotels were of doubtful quality even if they existed, the recipient would put them up at home.
“According to Maria, some of her guests were not easy to please. On occasions, while trying to make them feel at home, she undoubtedly wished that they were at home!”
SUGAR CANE KING
Invited to his study upstairs as the story moves on to Joseph, I notice antique oil paintings lining the walls as we make our way up.
They look very old judging from the crackling paint surface and veneer on the frames. The study is lined with book-filled shelves from floor to ceiling.
The portrait of a very young Queen Elizabeth II beside the desk top computer reminds me that Hale remains a steadfast monarchist while holding permanent residence in Singapore.
“Grab a chair and come sit with me by the computer. I want to show you a picture of what Joseph’s sugarcane plantation would’ve looked like.”
Hale’s voice seems louder than usual in this very quiet part of his home. Over the next few minutes, I learn that Joseph had very quickly realised that his merchant and agency business was risky and not stable.
He subsequently leased a thousand acres of uncleared land near present-day Kallang, where sugar cane became a success.
According to Hale, nearly 180 years ago when the system of Greenwich Mean time had not yet been instituted, dawn in this part of the world was at about five in the morning.
“Joseph would go out to the plantation early, come home for breakfast and then attend to his office until 4pm. He’d dine quickly and then ride out to the plantation again until dark. Dusk fell at about 5.30 or 6 in those days. That would today be half past seven.”
Even though a Doctor Wright of the USS Constellation took some Daguerreotype images of Balestier’s plantation in 1841 and Maria sent one showing their house to her sister in her letter of Jan 4, 1842, Hale professes that he hasn’t been able to trace whether or not it still exists.
Even more frustrating is that despite all his extensive research, there’s no record of the features of Joseph, Maria and their son Revere at all.
“We’re left to our imagination when it comes to this,” he adds, disappointment in his voice.
On what remains of the Balestiers in Singapore apart from the road named after them, Hale tells me about a bell which Maria ordered and presented to be hung in the tower of St Andrew’s church. It was cast at her family’s foundry in Canton, Massachusetts. The bell remains in Singapore to this day.
SADNESS AND GLOOM
Towards the end, the Balestiers’ world collapsed with the unexpected death of Revere, aged 24, at the beginning of March 1844.
He, according to Hale, was the hope of their lives and without him they began to question their struggle trying to make the plantation profitable enough to pay off their debts.
“Maria was 58 and Joseph 55 then, both far from good health but they couldn’t afford to retire. Nobody would buy the plantation and they were stuck. Maria doted on her son,” adds Hale, before assuring me that if I read her letters at this period in his book I would, in all probability, need a large collection of handkerchiefs.
Her later letters tell of how she’d often go around dusk to the cemetery on Government Hill (Fort Canning Hill today) to sit by her son’s grave. This overwhelming sadness made her feel her age and in early August 1846, she fell seriously ill.
“To everyone’s surprise, she pulled through but didn’t regain much strength,” shares Hale, before disclosing that the couple took a short sea voyage in the Government steamer Hooghly up to Melaka and back.
“In her letters, she wrote about how much she enjoyed it and was glad she didn’t feel seasick. Unfortunately, her health didn’t improve. A few weeks later she went to stay with friends at their house on Penang Hill. It was hoped that the cooler climate might help with her recovery,” he explains.
In her last letter to Harriet, Maria expressed hope for a swift recovery so that she could be of use again in the house.
Unfortunately, that was never to be and she went steadily downhill and died, aged 62, on Aug 22, 1847. She was buried beside her son and her obituary appeared in the paper four days later mentioning among other things: “She treated her servants like sons, her friends and neighbours as brethren. She left us an example it would be well for us to take heed of.”
Disasters never come singly and in December, the unprecedented heavy rains which fell non-stop for two weeks destroyed the entire sugar cane crop on the plantation as it was flooded to the depth of two feet. A few weeks later, Joseph had a complete nervous breakdown.
His creditors moved in and on March 15, a writ against him was issued by the sheriff. He was briefly locked up in the debtors’ prison and all his personal possessions were auctioned off on March 20, 1848. The plantation was advertised for sale on April 5 but there were no takers. Joseph left for America on May 8. Hale smiles widely when my penultimate question revolves around Maria’s other relatives in the United States. “I was hoping you’d ask that,” he exclaims.
It turns out that Maria’s father was none other than the famous Paul Revere who was immortalised by the poet Longfellow as the man who, in April 1775, rode off at midnight to Lexington and Concord to warn the Minutemen Hancock and Adams of the approaching British troops. Maria was born 10 years after this ride.
Concluding, Hale says poignantly: “What we’ve discussed this afternoon is just a smattering of things. There are still lots of interesting bits in my book I’ve not had time to tell you about today. I’m hoping that further research can be done about Joseph’s early and last days in America. One day...”