The Old Pootung Cemetery

A Scene of Sad Desolation

It is probably due to its out-of-the-way situation that Pootung Cemetery is so little known. Perhaps that is just as well, for a more depressing spectacle than this decaying place of sepulture cannot be well imagined, especially in the Far East where most burial grounds of the foreigner are things of remarkable beauty.

But this cemetery, once in the open country on Pootung Point, has been crowded into insignificance; the church, which once graced it, has gone; the unloveliness of iron shipbuilding has stifled it, and it has become a dismal backwater of which the hurrying current of Shanghai commercialism knows nothing.

It was the mention of the cemetery on a map which first aroused curiosity, as to this relic of old Shanghai. Then a little reminiscent gossip strengthened the writer's determination to see the place. It was not as easily found as the map would seem to suggest and the first attempt was a failure. A second endeavour succeeded, but only with the advice of someone who knew the place.

The sampan coolie was told to go to "Church jetty" and he at once knew his destination, of course there is no church there, not even are the remains of the foundations visible; nor does the jetty exist, but the Chinese knew the name and the location it fitted and disembarked his passenger on a short strip of foreshore which gave the first impression of dismal dinginess which the journery produced.

There must have been a jetty there at one time for a tar-paved road starts abruptly from the beach and leads through what might once have been a decent avenue of small trees to a gate in a bamboo fence. Pools of stagnant water lay on either side of the path, with a heap or two of earth, or a bedded anchor from which a strong chain leads to one or other of the derricks in the adjacent dockyard.

Inside the gate a picture of orderly desolation meets the eye. The tarred path runs right through the ground, the flatness of which is broken by an occasional tree and clump of bush putting forth the tender leaves of that hope which the rest of the cemetery signally fails to produce. Amongst the grass, which fitfully struggles for life on an unhealthy looking soil, bright dandelions raise their yellow heads, while a closer inspection reveals clusters of violets expressive of what the cemetery and its inhabitants now lack - remembrance.

The cemetery was practically a sailors' place of interment, as the majority of the few stones testify. To the right of the entrance where, presumably, the church once stood, the ground is raised and better kept than the rest. It is flat too, and grows rather more grass, but the rest is given over to mouldering heaps fast returning to the natural level of the ground, aided by the elements and the burrowings of the small obscene land crab. In one or two instances the earth no longer covers the stone slabs which top the shallow vaults, but this is not frequent.

Stories From the Stones

Headstones are few and weather beaten, and in most cases the only indication of a grave is a slight undulation of the ground. The stones however, are interesting. They speak mainly of the tragedies of the Huangpu, of men drowned, of sailors dying aboard ship, of a ship's boy, who at the early age of 17 came all the way to Shanghai to die of smallpox. In one grave lie two captains, masters of sailing ships, who were drowned off Shanghai on June 15, 1866.

The most pretentious monument is one which recalls memories of the Taiping Rebellion. It was erected to the memory of 30 N.C.O.'s and men of H.B.M. 31st Regiment who died in Shanghai, 1862. The stone was placed there by the officers of the regiment which was here for purposes of defence against the rebels and were, the writer is informed, stationed where now is the Peking Road. Men from Ayrshire, and from Devon, from France, Norway, and, indeed, from all the countries of the foreigner are commemorated on the stones, but most of the graves are nameless and hardly distinguishable from the surrounding ground.

Yet there was not a plant on view, but was there by chance; all wild things, save for a patch where some diligent Chinese grows his own vegetables. There was a coolie reducing the number of dandelions, but no indication was there of flowers or flower beds to relieve the drab surroundings. There should be flowers, the mounds should either be made up or levelled, and the whole should be turfed. It should be the concern of the whole community that such a spot should be well preserved and kept beautiful as much as possible. It was done in a Crown Colony, when a similar case was made known, with voluntary contributions by the soldiers of the garrison - it was a military burial ground and a British soldier abroad has little enough in all conscience, without having such charges to meet. Here, where a few hundred dollars per annum would brighten this dreary desolation it is unthinkable that apparently so little has been done.

Contributed by Eric Politzer