The Mystery and Mastery of Tan Yeok Nee (Part 6)
The Flight From Johor
The last post saw Tan Yeok Nee scaling heights of affluence and power that few newly arrived immigrants in the region could have ever dreamt of. Within only a couple of decades Tan had risen from being a door-to-door peddler of fabrics to perhaps the most wealthy and influential figure within the Singapore and Johor business and political elites of the time. All the more perplexing then that in 1875, only four years after his elevation to the highest echelons of power, including leadership of the Great Opium Syndicate, Tan apparently vanished from the Johor scene. It was a supposed disappearing act made all the more mysterious by the lack of any kind of explanation as to why. At least that is how some accounts of the events that transpired would have us believe.
The Singapore National Library Board’s Infopedia site says: “In 1875, Tan fled from Johor to Singapore and gave up all his connections in Johor.” Considering Tan’s staggering accumulation of power and wealth, some “political rivals may have conspired to frame him in order to remove him from power.” There is speculation that he may have been perceived, perhaps even by Maharaja Abu Bakar himself, as becoming too closely associated with his Singapore partners in the Great Opium Syndicate. They point out that the Maharaja was conveniently absent from the region when this happened and that following Tan’s “escape,” his assets were repossessed by the Johor government. Even Trocki, the region's leading historian of the 19th-century, appears to be confounded by Tan’s sudden and mysterious disappearance.
This, and much other similar commentary, begs more questions than it answers. For the Major China of Johor, a senior member of the State Council, head of Johor’s only kongsi, advisor and personal friend of the Johor royal family to abandon his assets in a cut and run “escape” suggests there is more to the story. Some sort of indignant or resentful conspiracy carried out while the Maharaja’s back was turned seems intuitively incredulous, especially with the lack of any real evidence. Patricia Lim, an authority on the history of Johor’s Chinese, says that even today there is a believe among the Chinese in Johor Bahru that Abu Bakar and Tan Yeok Nee were sworn blood brothers. Furthermore, as Trocki points out, “His importance to Johor in the years between 1864 and 1875 cannot be underestimated.” At the time an event such as the one suggested above would have been big news, but in fact it wasn’t. There is a conspicuous absence of news reports about the event in the press of the day.
Before attempting to question the conspiracy theories and perhaps piece together a more realistic scenario as to what might have really happened it is worth considering, for the purpose of context, how Tan fared in the immediate years after he “fled” Johor. Presumably, if he did flee, such an exit would have been motivated by some kind of concern for his well-being, in one form or another, had he stayed. But he did not flee very far away: Singapore was his destination. Whatever forces he might have been fleeing from, he obviously felt that their threatening reach would not stretch as far as a mere 40 kilometres away across the Straits of Johor. Furthermore, it would be fair to assume that in light of such a sudden and drastic course of action, if he survived such a daring escape, he might prudently disappear into the mundanity of an unremarkable life, at least until the dust settled. However, he evidently did not feel the need to keep a particularly low profile.
Singapore's Hotel de la Paix was so famous and well known that it adorned postcards around the turn of the century. These two above show the enormity of the building that stood in the very centre of town that Tan selected as his residence soon after departing from Johor in 1875.
Not long after arriving in Singapore, he took over the entire Hotel De la Paix as his personal residence. It was one of the city’s top hotels at the time, occupying a very large and well-known building, (it was the original home of Singapore’s first architect, G.D. Coleman). He remained there until the early 1880s when he then built what was perhaps one of the grandest mansions in a traditional southern Chinese Teochew style the territory had yet seen. A Singapore landmark, it is now known as The House of Tan Yeok Nee. As well as being conspicuous in its architectural style, it was an extravagant flaunting of wealth and status. It is hard to believe that this sequence of events would be purposefully embarked upon if he were on the run from a powerful and threatening nemesis with an alleged, perhaps even sinister, grudge. It just does not seem to be something one would do if one had recently fallen foul of a conspiracy hatched by powerful and resentful rivals.
Tan Yeok Nee: Events Coordinator
This might appear to be inconsistent behaviour: why on earth would you move into one of the highest profile buildings in the city if you were seeking a low profile due to having had to flee? However, such an awkward inconsistency was not only limited to his choice of residence. Tan continued to be a prominent figure in Singapore society, notably taking up a position as a member of the deputation who met Britain’s Prince Albert Victor and Prince George on their arrival at Singapore’s Johnston Pier on 11 January 1882. He was also on the Entertainment Committee convened for the princes visit and put together an agenda for the young royals. This included a two-day jaunt around Singapore and Johor in the company of the Maharaja who went out of his way to entertain them, whisking them away in his four-in-hand carriage to the Singapore races and indulging the boys with memorable visits to both Tyersall House in Singapore and Istana Besar in Johor. Palace of Ghosts tells the story of the princes’ amazing experience as they took shore leave in Singapore and Johor from their round the world voyage. The necessary coordination required between Tan and the Maharaja to organize such an excursion certainly does not suggest there was any bad blood between them. Palace of Ghosts also tells the story of Maharaja Abu Bakar’s lifelong quest for recognition as a sovereign ruler and the hosting of the British princes was of critical importance to his objectives in this respect. Tan would have certainly been acutely aware of the need to impress the princes on behalf of the Maharaja and therefore, by necessity, would have been deeply involved in ensuring that the mission was accomplished.
The Young Princes on their Cruise, Illuminations at Singapore. Illustration for The Graphic, 4 March 1882.
There are few, if any, records supporting claims that Tan was involuntarily stripped of his assets - only rumour and speculation. It does appear that some of those assets ended up, via a circuitous route, in the hands of the Johor government or its officials, but whether or not Tan was compensated in some way as part of the transfer is not recorded. It seems highly unlikely that the Maharaja would forcefully dispossess his lifelong advisor and confidante and then continue to be close friends and collaborator thereafter. Even less likely that he would turn a blind eye while somebody else did the deed, as has been suggested. Moreover, Tan’s extended period of opulent living as the sole resident in Singapore’s top hotel, followed by two decades residing in his own luxurious mansion in Singapore suggests that money was not a problem. Several historians, including Song Ong Siang, the author of One Hundred Years’ History of Chinese in Singapore, points out that the large fortune he had amassed from his time in Johor had been judiciously invested in the purchase of house property situated in what were, and still are, prime property locations in Singapore.
Tan invested in real estate all over Singapore including commercial premises. This 1970s photograph shows commercial shophouses Tan owned in Boat Quay: by then they were already in a run-down condition and have since been demolished.
To summarise: following his departure from Johor, Tan enjoyed an extended period of luxury living as a very wealthy man; a continued role in public life; and a continued close working relationship and friendship with the Maharaja. Then why have conspiracy theories emerged and why did a man with alleged enemies who supposedly schemed against him continue to maintain such a high profile thereafter? Why would a man who led arguably the region’s most powerful Chinese secret society feel compelled to flee? It all doesn’t seem to add up. All these factors considered, what alternative explanation might, then, account for Tan’s sudden withdrawal from his public and business affairs in Johor with no record or reason provided? Could there be another more obvious explanation that many commentators have somehow missed?
The Meilin Lake Palace
It is understandable that conspiracy theories abound, especially when the Johor royals cum politicians and their business interests are intertwined with those of the Chinese secret societies. There would have undoubtedly been some within these hierarchies who envied Tan’s status. That such individuals might have organized a hurried and hushed up departure for Tan while the Maharaja was conveniently absent from Johor could be a reasonable explanation. However, there appears to be no evidence of such shenanigans.
In 1875 Tan was approaching 50 years old and possibly had an eye on the future and on posterity. From his youth as a cloth peddler to securing his first Kangchu rights he had survived by the sheer force of his wit and personality, and perhaps by being in the right place at the right time, learning how to make money through sharp observation of the nuts and bolts of the region’s rapidly developing trade and commerce. At his heart he was a wheeler dealer businessman who knew his stuff: a technocratic manager of high intelligence also, but a businessman and merchant to his core. Thrust directly into the vipers pit of Malay politics relatively late in his career, it is quite likely that he didn’t sit too comfortably in that role.
The promise of a comfortable and secure life, complete with adequate compensation in return for handing his Johor assets back to the various individuals within the Malay hierarchy, while agreeing to exit the political scene would have been an outcome that must have held appeal to him. It is likely that he willingly stepped away from the roles he held, making way for new blood. In fact, Tan’s successor as leader of the Ngee Heng Kongsi was his colleague Lim Ah Siang, the only other Chinese man serving on the Johor State Council. This kind of transition could only have happened at the behest of all other stakeholders, especially the one that mattered the most: Maharaja Abu Bakar. More likely still, therefore, was that his retirement, or at least semi-retirement, from his official roles in Johor was at his own volition. As with many people contemplating their next life stage, he may well have savoured the idea of keeping himself busy with a less stressful mix of business – which in Tan’s case meant serving the Maharaja – and personal projects.
In the same year that he became a leader of the Great Opium Syndicate, Tan began work on a very special personal project thousands of kilometres away in southern China. Song Ong Siang’s comments about Tan’s investment in Singapore real estate notwithstanding, his adopted city was not the only place that Tan invested in property. He was no stranger to the lavish mansions and palaces of Johor and Singapore, and had been planning to build one of his own for years. He planned to build his own new palace, which was also to include an ancestral shrine, in the Teochew village of his birth Jinsha Chao'an, in Guangdong province. It was an unusual decision. Most emigrants from southern China were desperate to escape famine, poverty and war, among other things: of those who made it to their overseas destinations and survived, even prospered, few had intentions to return home. Tan appears to have been an exception. The creation of his grand palace in Jinsha was a pretty clear signal that this was where he intended to return to.
Tan had spent his youth as a habitual gambler, frittering away his family’s savings that were supposed to be used to care for his widowed mother. His departure from China was under a cloud of shame: he seemed to have left without even saying goodbye. He must have been wallowing in self-pity. His period working off his passage debt in a Pahang tin mine must have given him ample opportunity for self- mortification. Eventually arriving hungry and penniless in Singapore, the calming vista from Jinsha over the nearby Meilin Lake at sunset, the distant, hazy dark hills silhouetted serenely on the western horizon, must have seemed a lifetime away. His former neighbours would have been lighting their lamps for the evening wondering, yet unperturbed, by his silent disappearance. Memory of his ignominious departure must have remained at the back of his mind, along with a yearning to be forgiven for the folly of his youth.
As he grew older and his bank account fatter, other considerations may have come into play. His marriage to one of Abu Bakar’s cousins by marriage had made him effectively a family member of Abu Bakar’s clan, the inner circle of his wider band of followers. As “Fan’s consort” he had entered and lived with the family of his wife. In the Chinese context such reference might be considered condescending, even derogatory, if the wife’s family was not of a fitting status and of advantageous financial standing. But this was not the case with Tan: he had joined a royal family whose wealth was ostentatiously displayed at every opportunity. He was already wealthy by this time, but as the right hand man of Maharaja Abu Bakar and now with control of the regions opium farm monopoly, he had entered a different league of prosperity. Here was an opportunity not only to be forgiven, but also to be held in high esteem for his newfound success and status. Family and long passed ancestors alike could be proud of him once more and rest contented.
The idea of a lakeside palace and a shrine honouring his ancestors must have been a siren song, its lure an ever present comforting voice during those many tempestuous and often violent years of money and power in Southeast Asia. It was a loud call and persistent enough to eventually draw him back to Jinsha. The palace was called Zi Zheng Di and today is known as the Cong Xigong Temple. Zi Zheng Di was an honorific title bestowed upon Tan by the Qing authorities for his huge financial contribution to famine relief in Shanxi, the province most affected by the devastating North China famine of 1876-1879. The donation came at a time when the Qing’s treasury financial reserves were at an all-time low. The Qing government bestowed "two bows" upon Tan and a memorial arch was constructed to him in Jinsha with the words "Zealousness for Public Interests" prominently displayed. The Chinese characters “资政第” (“Zi Zheng Di”) appear above the main entrance to let all who see it aware that the house is the residence of a “Qing Dynasty Second Ranked Official.” As well as informing everybody of the owners high rank such an endorsement from the Qing royal court–ultimately from Empress Dowager Cixi herself–further added to his prestige and standing among the local community on his return to his home town.
The huge mansion at the village of Jinsha, Chao'an, built by Tan Yeok Nee and completed in 1884 (this pitcure shows only about one third of its width)
Construction of Tan’s Zi Zheng Di Palace began in 1870 and took 14 years to complete. It was a personal project that must have been of paramount importance. Whatever business considerations might have occupied Tan’s mind at this time, whether in Johor, Singapore or elsewhere, they will have been subordinate to his intentions for his personal legacy and retirement. The construction, and the meticulously thought-out personal plan, which preceded it and which had surely been in the making for years, must have included his present circumstances, the completion of the Zi Zheng Di palace as well as mapping out his future beyond as much as he was able to do with any foresight. It must have therefore included the building of his Singapore mansion The House of Tan Yeok Nee years later in 1885. This mansion also had the words “资政第” (“Zi Zheng Di”) inscribed above its main entrance doorway. Taken together the two buildings were more than just interchangeable residences and holiday homes. They were a statement to anyone who cared to pay attention that Tan was very rich and powerful, and recognized as such by the both Sultan of Johor and the Qing Empress Dowager Cixi of China. This was a man to be taken seriously, not someone who had been unceremoniously booted out of his official duties as a result of petty jealousies or conspiracy.
The main Zi Zheng Di doorway with Chinese characters spelling it out.
The Zi Zheng Di Palace was a significant commitment in terms of both time and funds but it is the amount of money he lavished upon adorning the palace’s centrepiece, the exquisitely decorated ancestral temple, which today displays a portrait of Tan on its main altar, that has earned the building its status as the area’s top modern day tourist attraction outside of the famous nearby ancient city of Chaozhou. The beauty and intricacy of the stone sculpture, wood carvings, murals, inlaid porcelain, and gold lacquer painting takes ones' breath away. These architectural features, as well as the overall design of the building, are considered to be the highest achievement in Chao'an architectural art. Contemporary local journalists puzzle over how much money was spent creating this masterpiece, lamenting that only the super-rich overseas Chinese could have afforded such extravagance in a place like Jinsha. In Tan’s case the personal riches he managed to extract from the Singapore and Johor commercial and trade entrepôts would probably have put him into the same wealth bracket as some of the contemporary members of Qing royal family. (Many of them, the women, lived in poverty within the Forbidden City). Tan's Zi Zheng Di palace by the Meilin Lake, although admittedly not located within Peking’s Imperial City, would compare well in size and style to the palaces of many of the numerous Qing princes and lavishly living out their privileged lives during those final few decades of the Qing empire. Of course, the Manchu elite of the Qing dynasty would not have batted an eyelid at Tan’s presence way down south in Jinsha. However, when Tan’s money replenished their empty coffers it might have caught caught their attention. Later on, when Maharaja Abu Bakar became Sultan Abu Bakar, Tan was even considered to be, perhaps unofficially, Johor’s ambassador to the Qing court. A comfortable and relatively secure existence was all but guaranteed for Tan for his retirement to his motherland.
Overhead viuw of Zi Zheng Di
Jinsha village today is engulfed by an urban sprawl that stretches from Chaozhou city in the north to the port city of Shantou in the south. It is the fifth largest urban conurbation in China, and one of the largest in the world, with a population of over 12.5 million. However, 150 years ago the area looked very different. The whole region south of Chaozhou city was a huge river delta for the Hangjiang River. Another river, the Rongjiang River flows nearby to the west; and yet another river, the Huanggong River, just a few kilometers to the east. This huge delta was a maze of rivers, dykes, canals and lakes interspersed with rice paddies or water-logged pasture lands. Shantou was virtually an island. In the centre of this water world was the Meilin Lake. It is still there today but a shadow of its former self, having shrunk considerably in size. Some claim that in years gone by there was a beach on the lake shore that was overlooked by Jinsha village. The village name itself refers to metal deposits, perhaps even gold, that were to be found in the silt of the lakes and waterways of the delta. It is doubtful that Tan was pushed out of Johor, or could have been unhappy in Singapore thereafter, but it may have been this location that pulled Tan back to China. It may have been his deeply embedded personal family and Teochew cultural context, in addition to the possibility of redemption for his past mistakes or respect for his subsequent riches and success, that drew him back home.
Note: I have included separate posts (immediately following this one) of: (1) some creative photo's of the Meilin Lake that I harvested from some mainland Chinese tourist review travel web sites; and, (2) some great photographs from tourists who have visited the Zi Zheng Di palace and posted their pics on social media in China.
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