The former “Jardin d’Espagne,” now the Lý Tự Trọng Park

In 1927, after being abandoned for more than 60 years by its Spanish owners, the “Jardin d’Espagne” (today’s Lý Tự Trọng Park) seemed set to become the new home of the British Consulate General in Saigon… but it was not to be.

The participation of Spanish naval forces in the 1859 French conquest of Cochinchina is well documented. The event which had triggered the expedition was the execution on 20 July 1857 of the Spanish bishop of Tonkin, Monsignor José Sanjurjo Diaz, and in response, the invasion fleet incorporated a large contingent of Spanish troops drawn largely from the Philippines.

The “Jardin d’Espagne” on a 1923 map of Saigon

In the aftermath of the conquest, several streets in Saigon were named in honour of Spain, including rues Isabella, Isabella II and Palanca.

The French authorities also granted the Spanish government a plot of land on which to build a consulate. According to the Colonial Council minutes dated 8 November 1928, the Conventions of 15 May 1864 signed by Spanish Acting Consul Manuel M Caballero, and of 31 January 1866 signed by his successor Fédérico Taque, ceded to the Spanish government “a 3,000m² plot of land on the north side of the junction between rues Lagrandière and Mac-Mahon [now Lý Tự Trọng and Nam Kỳ Khởi Nghĩa].” The concession of this land, now part of Lý Tự Trọng Park, was “made free of charge, but under the provision that the land is allocated solely for installation of a Spanish consulate and cannot be used for any other purpose.”

For a short while, an “old Annamite house” on the site was occupied by a group of Spanish naval officers. However, when the Spanish delegation eventually departed from Saigon, it had “failed to take effective possession of this land and abandoned the project of constructing a consulate in Saigon.” Thereafter, Spanish diplomatic affairs in Cochinchina were handled through the Consular Agent of Portugal.

The “Jardin d’Espagne” may be seen on the right of this early 20th century postcard of the Lieutenant Governor’s Palace

Over the next half-century, as the surrounding streets were transformed into the so-called “Triangle of Power” (comprising the Law Courts, the Central Prison and the Palace of the Lieutenant Governor), this little piece of Spanish territory was christened the “Jardin d’Espagne.” During this period, it was looked after carefully by the staff of the Botanical and Zoological Gardens, who installed lawns and flowerbeds and took great care of its ancient banyan tree.

By 1919, the Consulate-General of Great Britain had outgrown its premises at 4 rue Georges-Guynemer [Hồ Tùng Mậu], and the search began for a suitable plot of land on which to build a larger diplomatic mission. The Jardin d’Espagne seemed to fit the bill perfectly, and later that year the British Consul-General wrote to the Director of Local Administration asking if the French government “would be disposed to give its consent to the cession of this land from the Spanish government to the British government, which proposes to build a consulate there.”

The three-way negotiations between France, Spain and Great Britain continued for another eight years, but finally on 10 November 1927, “the Consular Agent of Portugal, M Brodeur, in the name of the Spanish government, ceded and abandoned to the Consulate General of Great Britain represented by Mr F Grosvenor Gorton, its rights to the Jardin d’Espagne.”

The “Jardin d’Espagne” may be seen on the left of this early 20th century postcard of the Lieutenant Governor’s Palace

For its part, the Cochinchina government agreed that Great Britain would be substituted for Spain in the conditional rights to the land, which were once again linked exclusively to the construction of a consulate.

Had things proceeded as planned, the British Consulate in Hồ Chí Minh City might now be in a very different location and Saigon would have lost a valuable green space to redevelopment. But that wasn’t quite the end of the story.

After commissioning a long-overdue survey of the Jardin d’Espagne in December 1927, the British “encountered problems and communicated these to the Cochinchina authorities.” On 21 January 1928, Cochinchina Governor Paul Blanchard de la Brosse wrote to Grosvenor Gorton: “On the occasion of the transfer, you pointed out to me the inadequacy of the said land area with regard to its function, which is the construction of your consulate, and informed me that you would consider favorably the principle of exchange against another city lot administered through the Domaine locale.”

A subsequent report to the Colonial Council by Blanchard de la Brosse sheds further light on the problems encountered, and also reveals the alternative lot which had been identified:

A plan of the 3,548m² Lot 7 on boulevard Norodom, which the British Consulate General was granted in exchange for the “Jardin d’Espagne”

“The Consul General of Great Britain has noted that the area of this land is too small for construction of a [consulate] building, and secondly that the Jardin d’Espagne does not seem favorable for the installation of a consulate. For our part, the local administration believes that there is interest in maintaining the current function of the Jardin as a convenient square for walkers and children’s games in the very central area where it is located. Therefore, the principle of exchange of this land against Lot 7 of the subdivision plan of boulevard Norodom is being considered. This latter terrain, situated between boulevard Norodom [Lê Duẩn] and the rues de Massiges [Mạc Đĩnh Chi] and Lucien Mossard [Nguyễn Du], has an area of 3,548m² and its market value is equal to that of the land known as the Jardin d’Espagne.”

A formal offer was made, and on 25 April 1928, British Consul General F Grosvenor Gorton wrote to the Governor accepting the substituted plot on boulevard Norodom. This undoubtedly pleased the French – another report dated 26 November 1928 says of the Jardin d’Espagne that “its situation right in front of the Governor of Cochinchina’s Palace, from which it is separated only by the rue Lagrandière, is not appropriate for the installation of a consulate.”

“Saigon – Perspective du Boulevard Norodom”

On 6 October 1928 Les Annales coloniales carried an article entitled “The future British Consulate in Saigon,” reporting the exchange of the Jardin d’Espagne for the new plot on boulevard Norodom, and explaining that “the plans, drawn up in London, will be executed in Saigon under the supervision of one or more architects who will come all the way from England. The design will be a reproduction of those buildings already constructed to serve the same purpose in Bangkok and some major cities in China; or rather, it will be a ‘Cochinchina adaptation’ of the commonly adopted type.”

The replacement lot was formally ceded by the Domaine locale on 21 December 1928, but the new British Consulate General at 21 boulevard Norodom [now 25 Lê Duẩn] took several years to construct and was not inaugurated until 1934. Sadly, no photographs have survived of this building.

In 1944, this building was severely damaged by Allied bombing. Then in the 1950s, it became the British Embassy to the State of Việt Nam and later to the Republic of Việt Nam. In 1959, it was completely rebuilt according to an attractive modernist design by architect Phạm Văn Thâng of the famous Hoa-Thâng-Nhạc architectural partnership. It served until 1975 as the British Embassy in Việt Nam.

The 1958-1959 British Embassy building designed by modernist architect Phạm Văn Thâng, now the British Consulate General in Hồ Chí Minh City

Crucially, the land exchange of 1928 returned the Jardin d’Espagne to the Domaine locale and it became a small municipal park.

After 1955 it was renamed Công Vien Liên Hiệp (Union Park) and after 1975 Công Vien Lý Tự Trọng. Then in the early 1980s, the buildings which had stood on the adjacent plot of land were demolished and the park was doubled in size, so that today it stretches the entire length of the block between Nam Kỳ Khởi Nghĩa and Pasteur streets.

Abandoned by the Spanish and rejected by the British, the Jardin d’Espagne was eventually transformed into one of Saigon’s best-loved parks.

In the early 1980s, the buildings which had stood on the adjacent plot of land were demolished and the park was doubled in size, so that today it stretches the entire length of the block between Nam Kỳ Khởi Nghĩa and Pasteur streets

The view of the former Lieutenant Governor’s Palace, now the Hồ Chí Minh City Museum, from Lý Tự Trọng Park. Note the ancient banyan tree.

Lý Tự Trọng Park marked on the modern city map

Tim Doling is the author of the guidebook Exploring Saigon-Chợ Lớn – Vanishing heritage of Hồ Chí Minh City (Nhà Xuất Bản Thế Giới, Hà Nội, 2019)

A full index of all Tim’s blog articles since November 2013 is now available here.

Join the Facebook group pages Saigon-Chợ Lớn Then & Now to see historic photographs juxtaposed with new ones taken in the same locations, and Đài Quan sát Di sản Sài Gòn – Saigon Heritage Observatory for up-to-date information on conservation issues in Saigon and Chợ Lớn.

The Pétrus Ký Mausoleum

This article was published previously in Saigoneer http://saigoneer.com

Not yet recognised as a heritage site, the Mausoleum and Memorial House of Pétrus Ký, one of Việt Nam’s greatest intellects, has fallen into a state of disrepair.

Jean-Baptiste Pétrus Trương Vĩnh Ký (1837-1898)

Jean-Baptiste Pétrus Trương Vĩnh Ký (1837-1898) is widely recognised as one of the greatest Vietnamese scholars of the 19th century.

Having initially trained for the priesthood, Ký was employed in the early 1860s as an interpreter by the Société des Missions Étrangères de Paris (MEP). He later entered colonial service, becoming professor of oriental languages at the Collège des Interprètes, the École normale and the Collège des administrateurs stagiaires in Saigon.

Said to be fluent in at least 10 languages, Pétrus Ký left a remarkable legacy of over 100 works of literature, history and geography, as well as various dictionaries and translated works. He also wrote grammar study books on a wide range of oriental languages, including Chinese, Khmer, Lao, Malay, Siamese (Thai), Cham, Burmese, Tamil and Hindustani. As early as 1873-1874, Ký was cited by the Grand Larousse du XIXe siècle encyclopaedic dictionary as one of 18 world-famous writers of the 19th century.

Pétrus Ký’s house in Chợ Quàn, drawn in 1889

Ký was the editor of the academic journal Miscellanées and helped lay the foundations for the development of Vietnamese-language newspaper journalism.

After his death, Pétrus Ký was buried in the garden of his wooden-framed house in Chợ Quán which he had built in 1861.

In 1927, a bronze statue of Pétrus Ký by French sculptor Constant Roux was unveiled in the park behind the Saigon Cathedral. Then in 1935-1937, as the centenary of his birth approached, the Société d’enseignement mutuel de la Cochinchine built a western classical-style Mausoleum in Ký’s honour, enclosing his grave. During this period, his old wooden residence was restored and transformed into a Memorial House – for more details see Petrus Ky Mausoleum and Memorial House.

The same view of Pétrus Ký’s house in Chợ Quàn today, with a café blocking the view

Since 1975, the Memorial House has been occupied by two families, and in recent years a café has been installed in the Mausoleum grounds.

After Reunification, the Pétrus Ký statue behind the Cathedral was removed, but it has survived intact and currently stands in the rear compound of the Hồ Chí Minh City Fine Art Museum. The remains of its plinth, which suffered extensive damage during removal, are now stored in the front garden of the Hồ Chí Minh City Museum.

Over the past few years, the Pétrus Ký Mausoleum and Memorial House has become an increasingly popular destination for foreign visitors, due to its historical significance and the quality of its ancient architecture. In particular, the 154-year-old Memorial House is now one of the oldest surviving traditional-style houses in southern Việt Nam. However, the site has not yet been recognised by the Vietnamese authorities as Municipal or National Heritage and is currently in poor condition.

The Mausoleum and Memorial House roofs have both suffered serious damage from moisture and mould

Speaking for one branch of Pétrus Ký’s family, great grandson Richard Trương Vĩnh Tông, who lives in France, pointed out that the wooden frame of the Memorial House and the roofs of both buildings have suffered serious damage from moisture and mould and are in urgent need of repair. Many antique tiles have been broken or displaced, encouraging further water infiltration. The walls of both buildings and the outer wall of the compound also require urgent maintenance.

Legal documents passed down by Richard Trương’s grandfather Nicolas Trương Vĩnh Tông (the youngest of Ký’s nine children, who died in France in 1974) show that the “usufruct” rights to this site were granted to family members only for hương hoa (ceremonial offerings for the purposes of ancestor worship), and not for the purpose of residence.

“The Pétrus Ký Mausoleum and Memorial House should be preserved only as a place of tranquility, memory and respect.” (Pétrus Ký’s great grandson Richard Trương Vĩnh Tông)

“The café and adjacent motor cycle parking area, with all their associated detritus, are unsightly and noisy,” he said. “They contribute to the ongoing problem of deterioration and degredation. The Pétrus Ký Mausoleum and Memorial House should be preserved only as a place of tranquility, memory and respect.”

Over the years, overseas family members have contributed generously to the upkeep and repair of the compound, but its current lack of heritage status makes it difficult to prevent inappropriate usage. Richard Trương believes that recognition of the compound as a Municipal or National Heritage Site could not only afford legal protection but also make it possible to develop the Mausoleum and Memorial House as a visitors’ centre where cultural tourists can learn about the life and works of Pétrus Ký. Such a scheme could include the relocation of the 1927 bronze statue of Ký to the Chợ Quán compound.

Pétrus Ký made an important contribution to Vietnamese scholarship. It is to be hoped that a way can be found to preserve his Mausoleum and Memorial House as a heritage site for future generations to appreciate.

For other articles relating to Petrus Ky, see:
“A Visit to Petrus-Ky,” from En Indo-Chine 1894-1895
Old Saigon Building of the Week – Petrus Ky Mausoleum and Memorial House, 1937
Petrus Ky – Historical Memories of Saigon and its Environs, 1885, Part 1
Petrus Ky – Historical Memories of Saigon and its Environs, 1885, Part 2
Petrus Ky – Historical Memories of Saigon and its Environs, 1885, Part 3

A large part of the compound is used for motorcycle parking

Moisture and mould has damaged the wooden house frame

This official nomination (sắc phong) of King Bảo Đại consecrating the mausoleum and memorial house is in poor condition

The Mausoleum and Memorial House roofs have both suffered serious damage from moisture and mould

The damaged plinth of the Pétrus Ký statue is currently stored in the front garden of the Hồ Chí Minh City Museum.

The Pétrus Ký statue, currently located in the rear compound of the Hồ Chí Minh City Fine Art Museum

The interior of the Pétrus Ký Memorial House

The interior of the Pétrus Ký Mausoleum

Tim Doling is the author of the guidebook Exploring Saigon-Chợ Lớn – Vanishing heritage of Hồ Chí Minh City (Nhà Xuất Bản Thế Giới, Hà Nội, 2019)

A full index of all Tim’s blog articles since November 2013 is now available here.

Join the Facebook group pages Saigon-Chợ Lớn Then & Now to see historic photographs juxtaposed with new ones taken in the same locations, and Đài Quan sát Di sản Sài Gòn – Saigon Heritage Observatory for up-to-date information on conservation issues in Saigon and Chợ Lớn.

Plan of the city of Saigon, 1790

Published in 1917 by the Saigon municipal government, Notice historique, administrative et politique sur la ville de Saïgon includes this colonial perspective on the history of Saigon.

Writers do not agree on the origins of the name “Saigon.” Some say that the name comes from the two words “Sai,” the Chinese character that means wood, and “Gon,” the Annamite word for cotton. “This name,” wrote Pétrus Ky, “comes from the quantity of cotton which the Cambodians planted around their ancient earthworks, traces of which still remain in the vicinity of the Cay-Mai pagoda.”

A Vietnamese farm outside Saigon

According to others, Saigon is derived from the term “Tai-Ngon,” the name given by Chinese settlers from My-Tho to the city later known as Cholon, which they founded on the arroyo-Chinois in around 1775, when, frightened by the depredations and cruelties of the Tay-Son, they thought it prudent to live closer to the capital “Ben Nghe” (current Saigon), where they would be safer.

Nevertheless, all agree – and we should note this in order to avoid confusion – that until the Franco-Spanish expedition to Cochinchina, the name “Saigon” designated the Chinese city (now Cholon), while the current city of Saigon was known as Ben-Nghe, “after the rach Ben-Nghe which the French named the arroyo-Chinois, having noticed that this arroyo led to the city of Cholon whose most numerous inhabitants were Chinese traders.” (Pétrus Ky).

The name Ben Nghe-applied to the area between the arroyo-de-l’Avalanche [Thị Nghè creek], the Saigon river and the current arroyo-Chinois [Bến Nghé creek]. It was also called Gia-Dinh, a name which, by extension, also served for a time to designate the entire eastern part of Lower Cochinchina.

Pétrus Ký

According to Pétrus Ky, before the reign of Gia-Long, Saigon was nothing more than a Cambodian village. However, it must have been quite an important centre, for history relates that towards the end of the 17th century, and during the course of the 18th century, it was the residence of the Second King of Cambodia.

Indeed, until 1684, Lower Cochinchina, which was part of the Khmer kingdom, was governed by its second king, while the first king resided in Udong, which had become the capital of the kingdom.

At that time, civil war broke out in Lower Cochinchina. The king of Annam, at the request of the second king of Cambodia, who, as we have said, lived in Ben-Nghe (Saigon), became the arbiter of the dispute between the Cambodian sovereign and the Chinese settlers in My-Tho and Bien-Hoa. He dispatched to the area the Annamite Governor of Khanh-Hoa, who, after defeating the Chinese at My-Tho, concluded a treaty with the king of Cambodia. However, when the latter was unfaithful to the treaty, the king of Hue sent the mandarin Nguyen-Huu-Hao to Lower Cochinchina to bring him to justice.

The campaign did not last long. The first king of Cambodia was taken prisoner and died shortly after his arrival in Saigon. The second king, gripped by fear, killed himself.

A two-masted Chinese junk, from the Tiangong Kaiwu of Song Yingxing (1637)

Before his death, the king of Cambodia had to accept the overlordship of the court of Hue, and also lost his nominal sovereignty over Lower Cochinchina, which was later (1689) definitively taken from him.

In the meantime, eager to escape the Manchu domination, three Chinese generals of the imperial Ming army, followed by several thousand soldiers, asked to settle in Cochinchina in order to exploit its vast uncultivated lands. In fact, they came with the approval of the court of Hue, with the hidden intention to conquer the country on behalf of the king of Annam. They settled in the provinces of Bien-Hoa and My-Tho, where they wasted no time driving out the indigenous population in concert with the Annamite infiltrators. Another Chinese, the adventurer Mac Cuu, seized the country of Ha-Tien, simultaneously paying homage to the emperor of Annam.

Thus was formed the Annamite colony of Lower Cochinchina, its population bolstered by the mass transportation of all the vagabonds of the kingdom. At the head of its administration was placed a kinh-luoc (viceroy), who established his residence in Ben-Nghe (Saigon), from which the Cambodian community were expelled.

Pigneau de Béhaine, Bishop of Adran

During the Tay-Son war, Saigon was taken and retaken several times, sometimes by Nguyen-Anh, legitimate heir of the Nguyen, and sometimes by the Tay-Son. Eventually, thanks to the support of Bishop Pigneau de Béhaine and the brave French officers who came after him, the chua (lord) of Cochinchina could definitively chase out the usurpers and consolidate his power over all of Lower Cochinchina (1790).

Nguyen-Anh – who later proclaimed himself emperor of Annam under the name Gia-Long – chose Saigon as his imperial residence until 1811, when he left to settle in Hue, leaving as governor of Cochinchina the ta-quan (left marshal) Lè-Van-Duyet, a grand dignitary of the court of Annam, known to history as the “great eunuch.” It was also in Saigon that Le-Van-Duyet established his residence.

Saigon under Gia-Long

“The city was laid out and fortified in 1790 by Colonel Victor Olivier. It stretched, as today, from the right bank of the river, between the rach Ben-Nghe and the rach Thi-Nghe (which we named the arroyo-Chinois and the arroyo-de-l’Avalanche). Laid out regularly, there were over forty straight roads, 15 to 20 metres wide and generally perpendicular or parallel to the riverbank. Two canals advanced into the heart of the city, and naturally, there were some wetlands, particularly in the terrain which later became rue de Canton, and also between the old route de Cholon and the arroyo-Chinois (the marais Boresse).

Plan of Saigon, 1793

In the centre was the citadel, a huge square bastion with a perimeter of 2,500 metres. Access was gained through two gates on each side, and the main axis of the structure was in line with the present-day road leading to the Third Avalanche bridge, the rue Paul Blanchy [Hai Bà Trưng].

The citadel walls enclosed many buildings. In the middle was the royal palace, and in front of that were the military parade ground and the field artillery park. A monumental flagpole stood in the centre of the bastion, looking out towards the river. On the left of the royal palace was the residence of the crown prince. At its rear was the residence of the queen. On the right of the royal palace were the arsenal, the forges and ten workshop buildings. The bastions at the centre of the northeast, northwest and southwest faces contained the powder magazines. Between the residence of the queen and the northwest powder magazine was the hospital. On the left, behind the royal palace and the residence of the crown prince, were the army stores (nine buildings).

With its ramparts, ditches and glacis [earthen banks], the citadel covered an area of about 65 hectares; moreover, on the northwest side, at the foot of the glacis, were barracks, straddling the road to the Third Avalanche bridge [the Kiệu bridge].

Plan of the 1790 citadel

The city itself was also encircled by a fortified wall – probably an earthen embankment – with forts at regular intervals. Facing the Plain of Tombs, it ran from the Second Avalanche bridge [the Bông bridge], following the right bank of the river and then heading west, intersecting the route de Thuan-Kieu and continuing to Cholon.

Down river from Saigon, on both banks, stood strong bastions which we called the “fort du Sud” (on the right bank), and the “fort du Nord” (on the left bank) – the second more important than the first – which defended the approaches to the city.

On the bank of the arroyo-de-l’Avalanche, before reaching the First Avalanche bridge [Thị Nghè bridge], were the shipbuilding yards. It was lower down from here, on the Saigon river, that after our arrival we set up the naval barracks and artillery. Among the workshops on the arroyo-de-l’Avalanche we installed a dry dock.

Towards the location of the current central prison was the royal treasury. It was on the site of the royal brick kilns that we built our market, which will soon be abandoned. The food stores were in Cho-Quan.

The Pigneau de Béhaine mausoleum, demolished in 1983

Since we are trying to describe the Saigon of Gia-Long and Victor Ollivier – the Saigon which saw the uprising of Khoi and the subsequent destruction by Minh Mang, just a dozen years after the death of Gia-Long – we may be permitted to add a few more interesting details for those who are concerned about the past of our Indochina.

This Gia-Dinh (Saigon) had about 50,000 souls, living in forty villages or hamlets clustered around the citadel, in the territory that extended as far as Cholon (big market). Between the northeast face of the Citadel and the arroyo-de-l’Avalanche there was a community of native Christians, clustered around the house of the bishop of Adran; this community was located around 200 metres beyond the glacis, not far from the land on which our first general food stores were later built. It was to here in 1799 that the coffin of Pigneau de Béhaine was brought to be placed on view, and it was from here that the funeral procession, with Gia-Long at its head, processed along the northeast and northwest sides of the citadel to the place of burial, now the national monument that we all know [see Lăng Cha Cả – from mausoleum…. to roundabout!].

Marshal Lê Văn Duyệt

After the recapture of Saigon by the troops of Minh-Mang, the Christian community and the house of the Bishop of Adran were destroyed and the Christians were driven across to the left bank of rach Thi-Nghe, where there is now a hospital of the Sisters of the Sainte-Enfance.” (Extract from Revue Indochinoise: “l’Insurrection de Giadinh,” by M J Silvestre).

Saigon under Minh-Mang, Thieu-Tri and Tu-Duc

On the death of Gia Long (1820). Le-Van-Duyet, who was then still the governor general of Lower Cochinchina, went to Hue for the coronation celebrations. Minh Mang thought to get rid of Le-Van-Duyet because his actions thwarted the accomplishment of the king’s designs, and especially because he knew Le-Van-Duyet to be favourable to the French and the Christians. Having failed in his criminal enterprise, he let him go back to Saigon. But when he learned of his death, the Emperor abolished his charge and divided Lower Cochinchina into six provinces, with as many Governors. That of Saigon (Gia-Dinh) instituted a court under the king’s presidency for the posthumous trial of the deceased.

This outrage deeply wounded the officers of the old marshal. In addition, the governor of Gia-Dinh accused one of those officers, Pho-Ve-Huy (Lieutenant Colonel) Le-Huu-Khoi, of having exploited the forests for his own use, and demoted him. This was the signal for revolt.

King Minh Mạng

Minh-Mang sent troops by land and sea to fight the rebellion, and on 8 September 1835, the imperial army took by storm the citadel of Saigon, where the besieged were entrenched. The repression was terrible. More than a thousand people were massacred, with the exception of the five main leaders and the French missionary Father Marchand, who, found in the citadel, was considered to be an accomplice of the rebels.

These six prisoners were locked in cages and sent to Hue, where they were tried. After enduring torture, they were sentenced to the “execution of one hundred cuts.”

“The taking of the citadel of Gia Long, called Phan-Yen, had been very difficult and the siege had lasted two years. Afterwards it was razed to the ground by order of Minh Mang, and in its place was built the fortress of lesser dimensions which we captured when we took Saigon in 1859.

In 1879, one could still see the remains of ditches behind the old Camp des lettrés, close to the rue Chasseloup-Laubat, and by marking the location of these half-filled ditches, one could trace the footprint of Gia-Long’s huge 1790 citadel. One of its faces, starting from a point located to the northeast of the Pagode Barbé and descending southeastward to the residence of the Director of Engineering, measured approximately 900 metres in a straight line. The northwest bastion extended outwards from the spot which today forms the intersection of rue Chasseloup-Laubat [Nguyễn Thị Minh Khai] and rue Pellerin [Pasteur].

The Franco-Spanish fleet in Tourane, 1859

During the construction of the Saigon Cathedral, we had to remove a considerable amount of rubble to lay the foundations for that monument, and when we did so, we discovered a layer of ash and charred debris, thirty centimetres thick. This was probably the remains of Khoi’s supplies stores, burned to the ground when the citadel fell. Amongst this debris, we found masses of copper coins, welded together by the heat, plus large quantities of iron and stone cannon balls, as well as the bodies of children buried in sealed jars. In fact, the Cathedral site is located in the area between the south and west bastions of the ancient citadel, close to the southwest face.” (M J Silvestre).

Saigon from conquest to the present day

Under the Emperors Minh-Mang, Thieu-Tri and Tu-Duc, foreigners were systematically rebuffed and Christians persecuted. “After the murder of Spanish bishop Monsignor Diaz and the outrageous reception prepared for the French ship Catinat in the Bay of Tourane, France and Spain decided to act in a forceful way.” (Géographie générale de l’Indochine by P. Alinot).

The capture of the second Gia Định Citadel in 1859

An expedition entrusted to Admiral Rigault de Genouilly was sent to Cochinchina (1857). After occupying Tourane (1858), the Admiral, at the head of a naval division, went to Lower Cochinchina and arrived on 15 February 1859 in the city of Saigon. The citadel, which was taken on 17 February, gave us possession of considerable matériel.

The following 1 November, Admiral de Genouilly, recalled to France at his own request, was replaced by Rear Admiral Page. Sent shortly after to China, he left in Saigon a garrison of 800 men, including 200 Spanish Tagals and a small fleet of two corvettes and four sloops. The command was given to Captain Ariès, supported by Spanish Colonel Palanca Guittierez.

The Annamites, profiting from our numerical weakness, tried by incessant skirmishes to tire the expeditionary force. It was besieged in Saigon and not until the end of the China campaign could we resume operations with vigour.

Vice Admiral Charner arrived in Saigon on 7 February 1861, and a few days later, after brilliant feats of arms by his soldiers, he took the famous “Lines of Ky-Hoa,” where the Annamites had been entrenched.

The capture of the “Lines of Ky-Hoa” in 1862

The siege of Saigon finally raised, we could devote attention to the organisation of the conquest.

“The retail trade and the mooring of large junks gave a certain significance to our Saigon: many shops were established in Ben-Nghe and in Cho-Moi. At that time, along the banks of the Saigon river and the arroyo-Chinois, there existed two long streets lined with houses with tiled roofs. Today these buildings have disappeared and the country certainly has no reason to complain. We made a clean sweep of the old town and its location. Everything has changed: we levelled heights and filled ponds, dug canals, and replaced the waterside huts with large forty metre quays. European houses gradually succeeded the old Annamite huts. Today, the beautiful trees planted along our main streets make us forget the verdant groves of areca which were slaughtered for the purpose of building and sanitation. Soon, iron bridges will replace the old wooden ones.

Saigon port in the early 20th century

Although only five years separate us from the era when this transformation began, it would be very difficult today, even for those who have not left the colony since 1861, to find traces of the ancient city, to recognise the terrain and to replicate exactly the original look of the place.” (M H Blaquière, writing in the Courrier Saigonnais on 20 January 1868).

These lines were written, nearly fifty years ago. How many more changes have taken place since then?

M H Blaquière continues: “Fifty years ago, the Saigon area was a muddy plain, crossed by meandering arroyos, the natural result of the Boresse marsh, and dominated by an Annamite citadel enclosed by walls of earth and foul ditches.”

“Today,” add the Annales coloniales, “Saigon is the ‘Pearl of the Far East,’ with many roads leading to other pretty towns such as Bien-Hoa, Cholon, My-Tho, Baria, etc. If we take into account the relatively short time of our occupation compared to the neighbouring British colonies which date back more than a century, or the Dutch colonies which have already celebrated their tercentenary, one will be amazed at the progress that our ancestors have achieved in a region once so unhealthy, where every task was the task of Titan.”

Tim Doling is the author of the guidebook Exploring Saigon-Chợ Lớn – Vanishing heritage of Hồ Chí Minh City (Nhà Xuất Bản Thế Giới, Hà Nội, 2019)

A full index of all Tim’s blog articles since November 2013 is now available here.

Join the Facebook group pages Saigon-Chợ Lớn Then & Now to see historic photographs juxtaposed with new ones taken in the same locations, and Đài Quan sát Di sản Sài Gòn – Saigon Heritage Observatory for up-to-date information on conservation issues in Saigon and Chợ Lớn.

Ba Sơn Shipyard, photograph kindly supplied by Alexandre Garel

This article was published previously in Saigoneer http://saigoneer.com

According to a recent article in Thanh Niên newspaper, the Ba Son Shipyard – Saigon’s oldest and most important maritime heritage site, recognised by the Ministry of Culture and Information in 1993 as a National Historic Monument (Decision 1034-QĐ/BT) – is likely to be sold off to a South Korean investor for redevelopment.

Nguyễn Phúc Ánh, founder of the Chu Sư royal naval workshop in Bến Nghé (Saigon)

The site, which has been under threat for many years and has already been partially demolished to make way for the new Thủ Thiêm Bridge, was described in the book Di Tích Lịch Sử-Văn Hóa Thành Phố Hồ Chí Minh (Nhà Xuất Bản Trẻ, 1998) as “an important vestige of one of Saigon’s earliest industries and the cradle of the working class struggle movement in Saigon.”

The shipyard’s founder was Nguyễn Phúc Ánh who, after reoccupying Gia Định in 1790, established the Chu Sư royal naval workshop in Bến Nghé (Saigon) to assemble a fleet of modern warships. Military mandarin and local hero Võ Di Nguy (1745-1801) is believed to have presided over its early development and masterminded the subsequent successful Nguyễn naval campaigns against the Tây Sơn, which paved the way for the final victory of 1801.

After Nguyễn Phúc Ánh ascended to the throne as King Gia Long (1802-1820), Chu Sư was expanded into a large shipbuilding facility and cannon foundry, which at its height employed several thousand workers of various professions.

“Xưởng Thủy” (Naval Workshop) was marked prominently on this 1815 map by Trần Văn Học

In his Geography of Gia Định (Gia Định thành thông chí, 嘉定城通志), penned during the final years of Gia Long’s reign, Trịnh Hoài Đức wrote:

“The Chu Sư workshop, located approximately 1 li [c 500m] east of the Citadel along the Tân Bình [Saigon] river, next to the Bình Trị river [Thị Nghè creek], is a factory which makes seagoing ships of the navy, a military workshop 3 li in length.”

During this same period, the “Xưởng Thủy” (Naval Workshop) was marked prominently on an 1815 map by Trần Văn Học.

Visiting Gia Định in 1819, American mariner John White was so impressed by the facilities of the royal shipyard that he “made frequent visits” and devoted considerable space to it in his memoirs, A Voyage to Cochinchina (1824):

An early Nguyễn dynasty warship

“In the north-eastern part of the city, on the banks of a deep creek, is the navy yard and naval arsenal, where, in the time of rebellion, some large war-junks were built; and two frigates of European construction, under the superintendance of French officers. This establishment does more honour to the Annamites than any other object in their country; indeed, it may vie with many of the naval establishments in Europe. There were no large vessels built, or building, but there were simple materials of the most excellent kind, for several frigates. The ship-timber and planks excelled anything I had ever seen….
There were about one hundred and fifty galleys, of most beautiful construction, hauled up under sheds; they were from forty to one hundred feet long, some of them mounting sixteen guns of three pounds calibre. Others mounted four or six guns each, from four to twelve pounds calibre, all brass, and most beautiful pieces. There were besides these about forty other galleys afloat, preparing for an excursion that the viceroy [Le Văn Duyệt] was to make up the river on his return from Hue…

The right bank of the Saigon river

The Annamites are certainly most skilful naval architects, and finish their works with great neatness…
Cochin China is perhaps, of all the powers in Asia, the best adapted to maritime adventure; from her local situation in respect to other powers; from her facilities towards the production of a powerful navy to protect her commerce; from the excellence of her harbors; and from the aquatic nature of her population on the seaboard, the Annamites rivalling even the Chinese as sailors.”

However, the fact that the French were able to sail up the Sài Gòn river in 1859 and capture the town with little resistance has led some scholars to conclude that after 1820, under the centralising policies of Gia Long’s successors, there was a slow deterioration in the condition of both the Chu Sư arsenal and the naval fleet stationed there.

Soon after the arrival of the French in 1859, Chu Sư was upgraded. As early as 1861, Admiral-Governor Bonard ordered the construction of a 72m dry dock facility, but because of difficulties encountered (due to the nature of the soil), it was not completed until 6 April 1864.

A view of the Arsenal in the late 19th century

On 28 April 1864, the French formally established the “Arsenal de Saigon” which, according to P Cultru’s Histoire de la Cochinchine française des origines à 1883 (1910), initially incorporated a metal workshop, a rope-making atelier, a kiln, a carpentry workshop and a boat repair dock. The nearby Naval Artillery supplied a 10-tonne crane and set up a machine centre and forge.

On 16 August 1866, in order to cope with increasing demand from the French navy, the Arsenal acquired a floating dry dock made from iron and measuring 91.44m L x 28.65m W. It was supplied by Randolph Elder and Co of Glasgow, which had just delivered a similar one to the Dutch arsenal in Surabaya. Embarrassingly, according to Leon Caubert (Souvenirs chinois, 1891), this installation sank on 1 September 1881.

For many years, in the absence of a dry dock large enough to accommodate its heavy cruisers and battleships, the French navy in the Far East was obliged to rely on the British Navy’s facilities in Singapore and Hong Kong.

The dry dock under construction in 1886

Finally in May 1884, additional land “between the jardin Botanique and the route de Bien-Hoa” was ceded, in order that a new dry dock facility could be built. It took nearly four years to construct and was inaugurated on 3 January 1888.

According to Eugène Bonhoure (Indo-Chine, 1900), “The dry dock is 168 metres long and can receive the largest ships of war, ensuring our squadrons a perfectly safe and convenient refuelling and rehabilitation point.” The French name for dry dock, “bassin de radoub,” is said to have given rise to the Arsenal’s Vietnamese name, “Ba Son.”

From the mid 1880s onwards, the Arsenal’s workshop facilities were completely rebuilt and re-equipped. In the words of Bonhoure: “The Arsenal has all the tools necessary for the most difficult repairs – there is a power hammer of two tonnes which can even forge a propellor shaft…. The new work that has been implemented significantly increases the defensive value of this installation.”

The École des mécaniciens Asiatiques, opened on 20 February 1906

Further expansion followed the reorganisation of the French navy in 1902, which created the “Naval Forces of the Oriental Seas” under the control of a Vice Admiral, comprising 38 vessels, 183 officers and 3,630 troops. In 1904-1906, the Arsenal “received many improvements,” including new facilities for the construction of S-type destroyers and a replacement floating dock, rendering it “able to meet all the demands of the full squadron of the Far East” (Situation de l’Indo-Chine de 1902 à 1907, ed Imprimerie M. Rey).

In 1906 the School of Asian Mechanics (École des mécaniciens Asiatiques, now the Cao Thắng Technical College) was set up to train its staff.

By 1913, the Arsenal was even being promoted as a “place of interest” in the Madrolle tourist guidebook:

An aerial view of the Arsenal de Saigon in the early 20th century

“The Naval Arsenal stands at the confluence of the arroyo-de-l’Avalanche [Thị Nghè creek] and the Saigon river, on the site of the ancient Annamite shipyard. This property is the main base of the French fleet in the Far East and has an area of 22 hectares, including a 168 metre dry dock.
The workshops, forges and power-hammers here are used to perform major repairs and even to build destroyers. Its employees include 1,500 Annamite and Chinese workers under the supervision of specialist foremen. On the river, several warships are anchored.” (Claudius Madrolle, Vers Angkor. Saïgon. Phnom-penh, 1913)

Yet another major upgrade was carried out 1918, enabling the Arsenal to build ships of up to 3,500 tonnes. The first of these “giants of the sea,” the Albert Sarraut, was launched with great fanfare in April 1921.

However, plans for the construction of a second large dry dock facility never materialised, and after the French government signed the “Pacific Pact” in 1922 (the Washington Naval Treaty, which limited the construction of battleships, battle cruisers and aircraft carriers by the signatories), the steady reduction in the French Far East fleet and increasing concerns about the Arsenal’s cost (by 1920 it was incurring an annual deficit of around 280,000 piastres) marked the start of a long period of decline. In the late 1920s, several attempts were made to privatise the Arsenal, but these failed, and in subsequent years, lacking investment, it became increasingly run-down.

The launch of the Albert Sarraut (85 metres) in 1921

However, the 1920s were a period of increased activity among the growing Vietnamese working class, and it was at the Arsenal de Saigon, from August-November 1925, that naval mechanic and revolutionary activist Tôn Đức Thắng (1888-1980) organised a major strike which delayed the repair of the French flagship Jules Michelet, then on its way to China.

According to the book Di Tích Lịch Sử-Văn Hóa Thành Phố Hồ Chí Minh (Nhà Xuất Bản Trẻ, 1998), “The mechanical workshop at 323 road 12 in the Ba Son compound was the workplace of mechanic Tôn Đức Thắng (later President of Việt Nam from 1969 to 30 August 1980), who took part in the Revolution during the years 1915-1928.”

Tôn Đức Thắng subsequently made a crucial contribution to the Revolution in the south by founding the Southern Executive Committee of the Việt Nam Revolutionary Youth League (Ủy viên Ban Chấp hành Kỳ bộ Nam Kỳ) in 1926-1927.

An aerial reconnaissance photograph taken in advance of the 1944-1945 Allied bombing campaign

Parts of the Arsenal de Saigon suffered damage during the Allied bombing campaign of 1944-1945, but repairs were carried out in 1948-1949.

In the wake of the Geneva Convention of 1954, the French fleet withdrew from Sài Gòn, and on 12 September 1956, the Arsenal de Saigon was transferred to the Republic of Việt Nam Ministry of National Defence. After Reunification in 1975 it was renamed the “Ba Son Federated Enterprise” (Xí nghiệp Liên hiệp Ba Son). However, over the past few years, ship repair and construction has been gradually relocated to Thị Vải (Bà Rịa-Vũng Tàu).

Today, the Ba Son Naval Arsenal preserves many original French workshop buildings, including several excellent examples of industrial architecture dating from the 1880s. On 12 August 1993, because of its historical, architectural and revolutionary importance, it was recognised as a national historic monument by the Ministry of Culture and Information in accordance with Decision 1034-QĐ/BT.

The Ba Son Naval Arsenal Heritage Centre, set up in the 1990s and closed in around 2005

In the 1990s, the Ba Son Naval Arsenal Heritage Centre (Nhà truyền thống Hải quân công xưởng Ba Son) was set up outside the compound to document the history of the shipyard and its association with the young revolutionary Tôn Đức Thắng. However it was closed in around 2005 and all of its contents have since been relocated to the Tôn Đức Thắng Museum at 5 Tôn Đức Thắng.

In recent years, several travel and tourism experts have expressed the hope that the old buildings of the Ba Son naval shipyard might one day be transformed into an important leisure and heritage complex, along the lines of New York’s South Street Seaport. The latest news appears to dash all hopes that this will happen.

Tim Russell, former Việt Nam tour operator and Thailand-based Marketing Director for luxury Asia travel specialist Remote Lands, gave his reaction to the news that the site would be completely redeveloped:

“I’ve been saying for years that Ba Son shipyard would make a perfect heritage zone for Saigon. The city lacks a dedicated entertainment district, and Ba Son would be perfect – colonial buildings ideal for converting into bars, restaurants, shops and cafes; city centre/riverside location; and a fully-enclosed area perfect for pedestrianisation.

The main entrance to the Ba Son Shipyard today

It would also be the perfect location for exhibits on the city’s history, which is in danger of being completely forgotten in the insane rush to modernise. Sadly, none of the above is likely to happen – as usual, money will talk, the old shipyard buildings will be demolished, and we’ll get more high-rise office buildings and empty shopping malls, and one of the last few drops of Saigon’s charm will disappear into the river…”

Mark Bowyer, founder of respected independent travel website Rusty Compass, added:

“Ba Son shipyard is the last opportunity Saigon’s leaders have to create a downtown space of scale with a strong heritage sensibility and strong public amenity. But this isn’t just a heritage issue, it’s an economic issue. Saigon’s reckless heritage destruction hurts tourism – but even worse, it hurts the city’s liveability, its global brand and in turn, its long term economic interests. Heritage is no longer a niche interest for foreigners in Vietnam. Vietnamese people are now very concerned about the destruction of their city. The next generation will rue these decisions.”

Time is now running out for this historic site. According to Thanh Niên, the city authorities are awaiting the state government’s opinion on the US$5 billion project proposed by South Korean developers, who hope to begin work on 2 September 2015.

The main gate of the Arsenal de Saigon in the early 20th century

Another view of the main gate of the Arsenal de Saigon in the early 20th century

The Arsenal de Saigon viewed from the river in the early 20th century

Construction of a torpedo boat in 1906

The dry dock at the Arsenal de Saigon in the early 20th century

The Albert Sarraut, built at the Arsenal de Saigon in 1920-1921

A ship under repair in the dry dock at the Arsenal de Saigon in 1931

A ship entering the dry dock at the Arsenal de Saigon in the 1930s

Tim Doling is the author of the guidebook Exploring Saigon-Chợ Lớn – Vanishing heritage of Hồ Chí Minh City (Nhà Xuất Bản Thế Giới, Hà Nội, 2019)

A full index of all Tim’s blog articles since November 2013 is now available here.

Join the Facebook group pages Saigon-Chợ Lớn Then & Now to see historic photographs juxtaposed with new ones taken in the same locations, and Đài Quan sát Di sản Sài Gòn – Saigon Heritage Observatory for up-to-date information on conservation issues in Saigon and Chợ Lớn.

The main building of Bót Dây Thép

It’s surely only a matter of time before the Bót dây thép (“Steel Wire” Police Station), situated next to a main road in Hồ Chí Minh City’s District 9 east of Thủ Đức, joins the pantheon of so-called “dark tourism” destinations along with other infamous places of torture like the Medieval Crime Museum in Rothenburg, the Prison Gate Museum in The Hague and the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum in Phnom Penh.

Inside Bót Dây Thép

The complex originated in the 1920s as a French radio communications station, popularly known in Vietnamese as Nhà dây thép (literally “steel wire house”). The three 70m high steel antenna which once stood outside the complex have long since disappeared, but an old French water tower may still be seen near the entrance to the compound, which currently belongs to the District 9 People’s Committee.

The main former police station building has been converted into a small museum, while its rear ground floor section is currently used as the District 9 Public Library.

The entrance to the temporary internment cellar

Bót dây thép was placed under the command of one Lieutenant Pirolet and his psychopathic deputy Ác râu (“Evil Beard”), who in 1946-1947 is said to have tortured and killed over 700 hundred Vietnamese political prisoners within its walls. The plaque outside the main building may be translated as follows:

After taking over the station in 1945, at the start of 1946 Lieutenant Pirolet transformed it into a police station which would bring horror to the people of Tăng Nhơn Phú and neighbouring districts.

The exterior of Bót dây thép

Under the authority of Pirolet and the bloodthirsty “Evil Beard,” the French set out every morning to the villages where they searched, pillaged and raped; they used barbed wire to bind together groups of innocent villagers, then they brought them back to the police station where they were imprisoned and subjected to various savage and barbarous tortures, turning this place into a hell on earth. They poured soapy water into the victims’ noses and mouths, hung them upside down from the ceiling and used red hot iron chopsticks to burn their bodies, hoping to find out about the activities of revolutionary soldiers. Though often tortured to death, the stubborn spirit of loyalty and steadfastness helped prisoners to remain silent to the last, making the French soldiers all the more furious because they could not achieve their objective. The bodies of the dead prisoners were decapitated and carried to Bến Nọc Bridge, where they were thrown into the river. Their severed heads were displayed on bamboo stakes outside the main gate of Bót dây thép to frighten the local community into submission. The remaining prisoners were then forced to lick the blood and eat the ears of the dead. Whoever refused to do this was also beheaded….

An ox cart used by the French to convey the decapitated bodies to the river for disposal

The main ground floor exhibition area incorporates a stairway which leads down into a small surviving section of the Hầm tạm giam (temporary internment cellar) and also displays a barrel used to hold the soapy water which was poured into the prisoners’ mouths and noses during interrogation sessions, a piece of wood (formerly part of a bed) used to hold prisoners’ heads in place so that “Evil Beard” could decapitate them, an ox cart used by the French to convey the decapitated bodies to the river for disposal and a boat used by local people to recover the bodies for burial.

The Special internment cellar

To the rear of the building is a small room which provides access to another former chamber of horrors, the Hầm biệt giam (Special internment cellar). The Vietnamese sign here reads:

This is a place in which the crimes of the French colonialists against the people of Tăng Nhơn Phú Ward and neighbouring areas have left a dark imprint.
A cover was installed over the cellar with a hole measuring 0.4m x 0.4m, just large enough for someone to be lowered in. Whenever they conducted interrogations, the French would lower the prisoners into this cellar with a rope lasso around their necks. Although the space below was very small, the French also held many people here at one time, in humid and putrid conditions, so that their bodies quickly became debilitated, then they were pulled up by ropes around their necks so that they could not breath.
The savage acts perpetrated by the French caused much tragic pain and injury to innocent people.

The upper floor of the building, which served from 1945 to 1947 as the main offices of the French police station, houses a meeting room and two small exhibition areas – one dedicated to District 9’s “Heroic Mothers” and the other to the victims of Pirolet and “Evil Beard.”

The final bas-relief on the wall of the Bến Nọc Memorial Temple shows Pirolet and “Evil Beard” being shot by revolutionary forces

Here visitors can see ropes, barbed wire and other items used to torture prisoners, spikes on which prisoners’ heads were impaled and personal details of many of the revolutionaries who died within the walls of the compound. This room also presents photographs, maps and artefacts outlining the anti-French revolutionary campaign conducted within the Thủ Đức area.

Around two kilometres east down the hill, next to the modern Bến Nọc Bridge, stands the Bến Nọc Memorial Temple (signposted Đền tưởng niệm Bến Nọc), erected in the 1990s in memory of the victims of Bót dây thép. The exterior walls of the temple are decorated with eight bas-reliefs which illustrate the entire story of the police station under Pirolet and “Evil Beard.” In the final panel we learn that they eventually got their come-uppance – both were killed by revolutionary forces during an attack on the compound.

Getting there
Address: Bót Dây Thép, Khu phố 2, Đường Lê Văn Việt, Phường Tăng Nhơn Phú A, Quận 9, Thành phố Hồ Chí Minh
Telephone: 84 (0) 8 3897 3064 (Mrs Thu Vân), 84 (0) 98 545 0654 (Mr Hưng)
Opening hours: On request 7.30am-11.30am, 2pm-5pm daily

Tim Doling is the author of the guidebook Exploring Saigon-Chợ Lớn – Vanishing heritage of Hồ Chí Minh City (Nhà Xuất Bản Thế Giới, Hà Nội, 2019)

A full index of all Tim’s blog articles since November 2013 is now available here.

Join the Facebook group pages Saigon-Chợ Lớn Then & Now to see historic photographs juxtaposed with new ones taken in the same locations, and Đài Quan sát Di sản Sài Gòn – Saigon Heritage Observatory for up-to-date information on conservation issues in Saigon and Chợ Lớn.

32 Hàm Nghi today

This article was published previously in Saigoneer http://saigoneer.com

Notwithstanding its early 1940s makeover, the flat iron building at the corner of Hàm Nghi and Hồ Tùng Mậu street is still one of the city’s most attractive colonial relics.

Octave Homberg, pictured in New York in 1915

The building at 32 Hàm Nghi was originally constructed in 1925-1926 as the headquarters of the Société financière française et coloniale (French and Colonial Finance Corporation, SFFC), a large holding company founded in 1920 with capital of 30 million Francs by billionaire businessman and former diplomat Octave Homberg (1876-1941).

At its height before the economic crash of 1929, Homberg’s SFFC had nearly 30 affiliates. Working mainly in the fields of agricultural and forestry exploitation, mining, utilities and credit, they included the Société des Caoutchoucs de l’Indochine, the Société française des Distilleries, the Société des Anthracites du Tonkin, the Société des Eaux et Electricité de l’Indochine, the Société des Sucreries et Raffineries de l’Indochine, and Energie Electrique Indochinoise.

The Société Financière Française et Coloniale (SFFC) building in the late 1920s

Such was the economic power and influence of the man they called the “Midas of the Colonies,” that in 1926, a publication entitled La France devant le Pacifique. La Comédie Indochinoise jokingly asked: “Indochina: French colony or Homberg’s colony?”

SFFC’s first Saigon office was at 93 boulevard de la Somme, but on 18 April 1926, its new building at 32 boulevard de la Somme [Hàm Nghi boulevard] was inaugurated.

According to an article in the newspaper L’Éveil économique de l’Indochine, “This important building will permit the SFFC to house in its own premises a certain number of its affiliates, amongst others the Crédit Foncier de l’Indochine.”

Another view of the SFFC building in the late 1920s

The article also noted that the SFFC’s new premises would permit the company to expand its operations by offering personal and commercial banking services.

“This inauguration marks the starting point of a new phase, the development of the SFFC’s Saigon operations. Previously, because of the smallness of its premises, the SFFC’s activities were almost exclusively for the benefit of companies in its own group. Now, it is able to serve the Saigon public by offering full banking operations in its own premises, with maximum facilities. In this connection, it should especially be noted that the SFFC now rents safes to its customers, housed in vaults of excellent design. This is a very welcome development, since no such service has previously existed in our banks.”

According to the Bulletin économique de l’Indo-Chine, the building also incorporated a plant analysis laboratory to assist its affiliate companies with crop management.

The Banque Franco-Chinoise pour le commerce et l’industrie (BFC) building in around 1945

The SFFC  was hit very hard by the Great Depression, and in 1930 it narrowly avoided insolvency thanks to the intervention of French prime minister André Tardieu, who persuaded the Banque de l’Indochine to save it. In the general downsizing which followed, it ceased to operate as a bank.

During the 1930s, the name of the Crédit Foncier de l’Indochine (CFI), former affiliate of the Société financière française et coloniale (SFFC), replaced that of SFFC on the façade of the building.

Then in 1939, the SFFC headquarters building was sold to the Banque Franco-Chinoise pour le commerce et l’industrie (the Franco-Chinese Commerce and Industry Bank, BFC, 法国和中国 工商银行), which had formerly been based at 160 rue Mac-Mahon [Nam Kỳ Khởi Nghĩa]. Relocating all of its Saigon operations to 32 boulevard de la Somme, the BFC took the opportunity to expand its operations, subsequently removing the building’s old domed roof to make way for an additional floor. The “BFC” logos which still form part of the building’s ornate wrought-iron gateway and window grills date from this period.

Even after the BFC took over the building, the SFFC (known after 1949 as the Société Financière pour la France et les pays d’Outre-mer, SOFFO) and some of its affiliates continued to rent offices on the upper floors of the building until the end of the colonial era.

The BFC building in 1965 (Michael Mittelmann Collection, Vietnam Center and Archive)

The Banque Franco-Chinoise remained at this address (known from 1955 onwards as 32 Hàm Nghi) until 1975. After Reunification, the building was occupied by a variety of organisations, including numerous departments of the Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Development.

Since 1997, 32 Hàm Nghi has functioned principally as the headquarters of the Mekong Housing Bank (MHB).

As rumours circulate of plans to construct a 40-storey tower on the site, the future of this old building – like that of so many others in Saigon –currently hangs in the balance.

The author would like to thank Elvis Chan and Huỳnh Trung for their assistance in researching this article

Another view of 32 Hàm Nghi today

The “BFC” logos which still form part of the building’s ornate wrought-iron gateway and window grills date from 1939-1940

The view looking up from the rear yard of 32 Hàm Nghi

A stairway in 32 Hàm Nghi

A corridor within 32 Hàm Nghi

Tim Doling is the author of the guidebook Exploring Saigon-Chợ Lớn – Vanishing heritage of Hồ Chí Minh City (Nhà Xuất Bản Thế Giới, Hà Nội, 2019)

A full index of all Tim’s blog articles since November 2013 is now available here.

Join the Facebook group pages Saigon-Chợ Lớn Then & Now to see historic photographs juxtaposed with new ones taken in the same locations, and Đài Quan sát Di sản Sài Gòn – Saigon Heritage Observatory for up-to-date information on conservation issues in Saigon and Chợ Lớn.

Saigon port in the 1920s

Though arrogant and condescending in its tone, A Desbordes’ 1919 assessment of what’s wrong with tourism in Saigon – published in his journal Les Affiches saïgonnaises on 10 October 1919 – nonetheless sheds light on the appalling conditions suffered by many poor people in the “Pearl of the Orient”

How many cruise ships of the large foreign shipping lines ever stop in Saigon? Not one! Shouldn’t there be some way to reroute them, so that they bring us their tourists? In theory, yes. But given the current state of our port, no!

Sampan boatmen in Saigon

We must develop our port, dredging the river and building new docks, so that these giants of the seas can moor. Better still, we should to reduce the horrifying five hour journey up river from Cap-Saint-Jacques by digging a direct canal from the Cap to Saigon, in order to facilitate the journeys of these ships. After all, they not only bring travellers, but also come to load up with our products. We must give proper consideration to commercial needs and create what does not currently exist – modern equipment for loading and unloading ships, and above all, the facilities of a large, modern commercial port.

We have already addressed this matter in previous issues, and we promised to return to it. However, we’ll stop there and say no more about it. Instead, let’s ask ourselves, do we really want to carry out all these works?

When our tourist wants to venture beyond Saigon and go on an excursion, will he be able to find the level of physical comfort he can enjoy on board the steamships of the Messageries maritimes and in our Saigon hotels? Again, we must say, no, a thousand times, no. Far from it.

So, away from our beautiful roads which lead nowhere, let’s review the means of transport at our disposal. Comfort, we must admit, is rather absent.

The interior of the Continental Hotel, early 20th century

Outside Phnom Penh, in what other centre of Cochinchina, Annam and Cambodia visited by the tourist can he hope to find the comfort he needs? In Angkor, and also in Dalat, such comfort is unknown; even more so in Tourcham [Tháp Chàm], a place where our tourist may be forced to spend a night or day. There, he will have to stay in a one-room apartment without water or shower, make use of a dubious laundry service and suffer the vulgar cuisine of a spoil-the broth Chinese cook. The train which will convey him from Saigon to Langbian [Đà Lạt] doesn’t even offer him facilities to quench his thirst or sate his hunger. Can we call that comfort?

But let’s return to Saigon, for it could be that the tourist has decided not to go any further, not to stay here any longer, but to leave quickly.

Let’s consider what awaits our great tourist when his ship arrives.

If he arrives on a Messageries vessel, it moors in the quay of the Messageries, but if he arrives on a foreign vessel, it is moored in the open river against a buoy and he is transferred to land by sampan (first trouble).

We meet him and join him on his journey to the hotel, which he has chosen at random. At our exit of the “seigneurial domain” of the Messageries maritimes, we find the path leading to the swing bridge crowded with vehicles of all kinds, so instead, we continue straight on.

Housing alongside the arroyo-Chinois

On his left, the tourist – who after all came here to take in the sights – sees a few remnants of the earliest European homes, of the kind one often encounters in and around the equatorial ports, adding a bit of local colour. There is a house and an attractive restaurant on stilts; but our tourist’s attention is immediately drawn by the wild shouts and savage screams of a group of children on his right, more or less dressed, but each dirtier than the other. His olfactory nerve having detected a disagreeable aroma, he spies in the damp mud in front of the row of “compartments” (a word consecrated by the owners to designate buildings slightly taller but little more comfortable than a cowshed) a ditch full of sewage.

The ditch is loosely covered with boards, and into the gaps between them, local residents throw everything they can no longer keep in their homes. Part of what lies underneath is visible through the gaps, and further scrutiny reveals that there are children under there, buried up to their waists in the filthy mud. As they stir it, the mud emits sufficient stench to generate an outbreak of plague. They are fishing with both hands for crabs and small fish, which are either eaten, taken to the market, or sold to restaurants, some of which occupy riverside dwellings alongside fruit merchants, tailors and hairdressers.

Our tourist suppresses the urge to retch and leads us on quickly, not without noticing that each of the houses contains an average of 15 to 20 people, a number which at night is doubled if not tripled, in an area of just 20 square metres and a height of just 3 metres!

More housing alongside the arroyo-Chinois

A little further along the left, the spectacle is more or less the same, except that the buildings are made of wood and have at their rear a large cesspit, into which all kinds of rotting carcasses –dogs, cats, pigs, etc – are constantly thrown.

Our first contact with the “Pearl of the Orient” is, as we confess with shame, rather painful, and our tourist, who remembers having heard that cholera and plague are latent in Saigon, begins to be convinced.

Arriving on the bridge [pont des Messageries maritimes], our view of the banks of the arroyo (the name applies well) suggests to us that their maintenance does not much encumber the budget. The ramp which we follow to descend the bridge presents the curiosity of two tiny sidewalks, unusable for pedestrians from one end of the year to the other, since they are always crowded with heaps of garbage – that is, when the latter, in all its forms, is not scattered everywhere, which is far from being an attractive sight.

To avoid this spectacle, we take instead the staircase which descends from the other side of the bridge to the quai de Belgique [Võ Văn Kiệt]. Here we find our steps less congested, but unfortunately, the smell of ammonia is such that even a blind man could identify this as the quarter’s public urinal.

The swing bridge, viewed from the ramp of the pont des Messageries maritimes

We stop for a moment at a bank on the corner of rue d’Adran [Hồ Tùng Mậu], and then we immediately head out onto that street again, to avoid the dust on the quayside produced by vehicles travelling from the ship.

However, since the pavement on our right hand side is crowded, we are obliged to walk in the street, where mud reigns from one end of the year to the next, even in the driest period.

Hardly have we resumed our journey than another awful, unbearable smell seizes our nostrils. Our friends the Chinese merchants, selling dried or rotting fish, force us to run away as fast as possible. These gentlemen of special refinement have chosen our banking and consulates district as the location for their warehouses and shophouses!

By now, our companion – a tourist, let’s not forget – can bear it no more and asks to be taken away from all of these noxious and unhealthy odours. We rejoin the quayside as quickly as possible, heading for the rue Catinat [Đồng Khởi], the name of which is not unknown to him.

A view looking up the rue Catinat

Wanting to see everything, our companion choses the left pavement, onto which we step slowly. As we walk, we pass countless money changers, tailors and shoemakers, which follow each other almost without interruption.

I have nothing to say about this – except firstly that there are far too many of them and they would be better accommodated in the smaller adjacent streets. They certainly do not embellish our main city artery in which, every day, the European element is seen to be increasingly repressed.

Secondly, the foreigner does not hide his surprise to observe in this street some rather dirty groups of children playing on the sidewalk, and also to breathe the puffs of air wafting from the back rooms of these shops. The latter is nothing to celebrate, because it reminds us uncannily of the smell that emanates from a pigsty. That is not surprising, because everyone knows that the Chinese like to raise ducklings and piglets in their own back yards.

A stop near the Theatre and a short visit to his apartment appears to satisfy our tourist, but despite his politeness, he can’t conceal from us the fact that his stay in Saigon hasn’t made him smile a great deal and he has the urge to get back on the boat.

The road to Thủ Đức

Yet, the hot hours having ended, and wishing to see more of Saigon, we decide to take a trip by car. This hunting promenade seems to compensate for the bad impression given to him on our arrival, but the next morning, everything seems to have been compromised again.

Our tourist does indeed want to go back on board ship. We ask to accompany him. We hire a pousse-pousse, and this time we take the swing bridge. Alas for this crossing! The view of the ditch which borders the street leading to the Messageries, and the awful smell emanating from the stagnating mud which workers are at that moment attempting to move, blocking the pathway reserved for pedestrians, once more evokes a negative reaction. Again, we fear that our visitor will decide to leave us at the earliest opportunity.

We will not dwell longer on these curiosities of our “Pearl,” but can we really believe that such a state of things, with such a lack of moral comfort and the constant apprehension of an epidemic, is any way to recommend a city which is so nice and welcoming in other ways. It’s not for us here to identify those responsible for all this, nor to suggest ways to address it, but a local government worthy of the name should aim to rectify the problems as quickly as possible.

The swing bridge in the 1920s by Leon Ropion

Let’s just say that, as long as all these drawbacks remain, Saigon will never be thought of as a favourite stopover for tourism or grand touring. How much effort, how many initiatives will be needed by the tourist office and the official tourism bureau in order to change all of this, and how many years will it take to get there, taking into account all of the various vested interests.

Of all necessity, however, these pestilential nests must be destroyed and sanitised, because like it or not, such warts never constitute an attractive sight. Despite the authorities’ lack of concern about public health, and despite of all the difficulties as well as the indifference of some, are we prepared to act?

We ask this question, and if we are afraid to encroach on the political field, we should say that this must be the first programme of any candidate in the upcoming elections. The voters can speak and say what they want: a clean and comfortable city, a modern port or an Asian city!

A Desbordes

Tim Doling is the author of the guidebook Exploring Saigon-Chợ Lớn – Vanishing heritage of Hồ Chí Minh City (Nhà Xuất Bản Thế Giới, Hà Nội, 2019)

A full index of all Tim’s blog articles since November 2013 is now available here.

Join the Facebook group pages Saigon-Chợ Lớn Then & Now to see historic photographs juxtaposed with new ones taken in the same locations, and Đài Quan sát Di sản Sài Gòn – Saigon Heritage Observatory for up-to-date information on conservation issues in Saigon and Chợ Lớn.

Underground display at Secret Cellar “B,” 122/351 Ngô Gia Tự

With so many other destinations to visit, Hồ Chí Minh City is often regarded as little more than a convenient starting or finishing point for a tour of Việt Nam. However, there is a wealth of untapped touristic resources that could help turn this city into a great deal more than a brief stopover. Prominent amongst them are the little-known registered historic buildings that form the city’s underground tunnel and cellar network.

Underground at the Phú Thọ Hoà Tunnels

Secret passageways and compartments may be found throughout the world, but it’s hard to think of anywhere else where underground tunnels and cellars have been put to such extensive or indeed effective wartime use as Hồ Chí Minh City. Which makes it all the more surprising that, in this age of mass tourism, such a prime touristic resource remains unexploited.

The story of Vietnamese reliance on underground hideouts during the struggle for independence may be traced back to the period immediately after World War II, when the French returned to Sài Gòn, driving Việt Minh forces into the hinterland. In the years that followed, the revolutionary command in the south came up with an ingenious solution to the problem of concealing their activities from French eyes – hiding men and weapons underground.

The prototype for many subsequent revolutionary tunnel complexes was the Phú Thọ Hoà Tunnels in Sài Gòn’s northwest suburb of Tân Phú, where, early in 1947, Việt Nam’s first network of interconnected underground caverns was dug beneath cassava fields to serve as a guerilla base and storage facility.

A tunnel entrance at Phú Thọ Hoà

Packed with weapons, food and medical supplies, they played a crucial role in the First Indochina War. However, their close proximity to the French high command in Sài Gòn proved something of a mixed blessing and revolutionary activity soon switched to the more remote Củ Chi underground base, construction of which had got underway soon after the completion of the Phú Thọ Hoà complex.

The development of the Củ Chi Tunnels after 1962 and of residential tunnel networks at Vịnh Mốc, Vĩnh Linh, Mụ Giai and Kỳ Anh in the heavily-bombed “DMZ” after 1965 is of course the stuff of legend. Yet few people realise that Hồ Chí Minh City is also home to an extraordinary network of secret cellars, which were dug under residential buildings from the late 1940s onwards to serve as covert printing houses, weapons stores or safe houses.

Covert publishing

Underground display at Secret Cellar “B,” 122/351 Ngô Gia Tự

Propaganda was crucial to the success of the revolution, and both the Việt Minh and later the National Liberation Front (NLF) went to great lengths to keep the population informed about events in the north.

Built to replace an earlier and less secure cellar under a house near Bà Chiểu Market, Secret Cellar “B” (122/351 Ngô Gia Tự, Q 10) was dug under cover of darkness between February and May 1952 by a team of operatives led by Hà Minh Lân, who set up a shrine-making business as daytime cover for the operation. Highly sophisticated in both design and construction, the cellar housed a covert printing press that functioned for over five years, publishing in leaflet form the latest news transcribed from northern radio broadcasts.

The ingenious layout of Secret Cellar “B”

The cellar was abandoned in December 1957 for security reasons and decommissioned in 1959 by stuffing it with soil-filled containers that preserved the structure intact until after Reunification.

As the insurgency gathered pace in the early 1960s, several other covert printing presses were set up in the city. One of these, the Secret Printing Cellar of the Chinese-language Propaganda and Training Committee in Chợ Lớn, was originally established at 81 Gò Công. However, after several years of operation that address was deemed insecure, so in mid-1965 it was relocated to a quiet back-alley house at 341/10 Gia Phú in District 6. An 11-member NLF team, once more posing as a family, dug two cellars below the house and installed printing machinery. Metal stamping machinery was also acquired to manufacture school bag locks above ground as cover and drown out the clatter of the printing press below their feet. The underground printing press on Gia Phú operated without discovery until 1970, when it moved to another location.

Weapons storage

The weapons storage cellar at 183/4 3 Tháng 2

The NLF also dug numerous secret cellars to store weapons and explosives brought from rural bases such as Củ Chi, particularly in the run-up to the 1968 Tết Offensive. One of the earliest examples was dug in 1965 by shoemaker and seasoned revolutionary Đỗ Văn Căn under his house at 183/4 3 Tháng 2. Over the four-month period from July to October 1965, Căn secretly collected 50kg of explosive and detonators, 50 grenades, seven AK47 sub machine guns, several pistols, 21,000 bullets and a number of other items of weaponry from a warehouse in An Đông, transporting them back to his house concealed in bales of rubber.

They were stored in his secret cellar until January 1968, when plans were made to use them in an attack on the city Police Headquarters. However, the operation was aborted and the weapons and explosives remained undiscovered in the cellar. In April 1975, as PLA forces approached Sài Gòn, they were unpacked and prepared for an attack on the nearby nearby ARVN barracks, “Camp Lê Văn Duyệt.” However, the Sài Gòn government surrendered before the attack could take place.

The weapons storage cellar at 287/70 Nguyễn Đình Chiểu

Unlike the munitions in the cellar on 3 Tháng 2, those stashed beneath the house at 287/70 Nguyễn Đình Chiểu did see combat. Early in 1967 the house’s owner, NLF operative Trần Văn Lai, dug two cellars underneath the house and from June 1967 onwards, pistols, rifles, grenades and over 350kg of TNT were transported there in hollowed-out boxes and specially-adapted wickerwork baskets and plant pots.

On the evening of 30 January 1968, the 19-strong Special Forces Team 5 collected them and launched an attack on the heavily-defended south gate of the Independence Palace. The attack failed and all of the team members lost their lives, but despite a subsequent search of the address, the secret cellar was never discovered.

Concealment

91 Phạm Văn Chí in District 6

Some of the secret cellars established in Sài Gòn and Chợ Lớn during the 1960s were intended not as printing houses or munitions stores, but rather for concealing revolutionary activists.

In 1963 a Chợ Lớn businessman known as Lưu Vinh Phong purchased a house at 91 Phạm Văn Chí, right opposite the District 6 Police Station and Courthouse. He then proceeded to dig a secret cellar under the floor and also created a secret compartment behind a false wall at mezzanine level to hide revolutionary cadres.

From late 1967, many members of the National Chinese Language Committee of the South were successfully hidden in these two spaces, facilitating preparations for the Tết Offensive of 1968. As with other covert bases in the city, a craft workshop was set up here to provide cover.

Phong Phú Communal House in District 9 won its revolutionary spurs during the struggle against the French – its remote location made it an ideal spot to train revolutionary youth militia groups and assemble supplies, food and weapons for the armed struggle against colonialism.

Phong Phú Communal House in District 9

The Communal House was destroyed by the Việt Minh during a scorched earth campaign in 1948, but it was rebuilt in 1952 and later played a key role, becoming the headquarters of revolutionary forces in the Thủ Đức area. In 1960 the entire Communal House Association was arrested on suspicion of ties with the revolution. However, they would not be shaken from their efforts and continued to channel money and supplies to revolutionary forces for the duration of the war. After suffering further damage in 1969, the Communal House had to be rebuilt yet again, this time with a secret cellar underneath a bathroom to hide revolutionary cadres during raids.

Hot-footing it from the palace

Yet it wasn’t just revolutionaries who dug secret cellars. When South Vietnamese President Ngô Đình Diệm ordered the construction of a new Independence Palace in February 1962 after the bombing of the original Norodom Palace, the plans by architect Ngô Viết Thụ included a network of underground tunnels, reinforced to withstand the impact of 500kg bombs.

The underground tunnels built for South Vietnamese President Ngô Đình Diệm at the Independence Palace

At the start of the four-year construction period, Diệm took up temporary residence in the Gia Long Palace – the former French Lieutenant Governor’s Palace, now the Hồ Chí Minh City Museum at 65 Lý Tự Trọng in District 1 – and immediately ordered the construction of a second network of tunnels under that building, so that he could take shelter and if necessary escape in the event of a further coup attempt.

The fact that the tunnels under the Gia Long Palace were also designed by architect Ngô Viết Thụ accounts for the persistent rumour that a connecting tunnel was built between the two palaces. Both sets of tunnels may now be visited by tourists, but with sections of each still cordoned off, that rumour remains alive and well!

Recently-unearthed US photographs and documents (see Saigon’s mystery tunnels) suggest that Diệm also commissioned the construction of at least two other tunnels, leading from the Gia Long Palace all the way to the Mạc Đĩnh Chi Cemetery [now Lê Văn Tám Park] and the Saigon Zoo.

Ironically, when the final coup did take place in November 1963, Diệm only made use of the tunnels under the Gia Long Palace to escape out the back door onto Lê Thánh Tôn street and flee by car to Chợ Lớn, where he and his brother Nhu were assassinated the following day.

The tunnels built for South Vietnamese President Ngô Đình Diệm under the Gia Long Palace, now the Hồ Chí Minh City Museum

Collectively, the secret tunnels and cellars of Sài Gòn represent a unique type of “revolutionary architecture” which played a crucial role in the fight for independence. Those examples which have survived stand as a tribute to their creators and to the unsung heroes who lived and worked in them.

And for Hồ Chí Minh City’s tourism companies, they provide an opportunity to breathe new life into the city’s tourism industry.

Getting there

Phú Thọ Hòa Tunnels (Khu Di tích Địa đạo Phú Thọ Hòa) at 139 Phú Thọ Hoà, Q Tân Phú are open daily from 7.30am-11.30am and 2pm-5pm.

Secret Cellar “B” – Printing Office of the Patriotic Support Association (Hầm bí mật “B” – Cơ sở In ấn của Hội Ủng hộ Vệ Quốc đoàn) at 122/351 Ngô Gia Tự, Q 10 and the Secret Weapons Hiding Place (Hầm bí mật chứa vũ khí) at 183/4 Ba Tháng Hai, Q 10 may be viewed by special arrangement with the District 10 Office of Culture, Sports and Tourism, 474 Đường 3 Tháng 2, Phường 14, Quận 10, TP.HCM

Secret Printing Cellar of the Chinese-language Propaganda and Training Committee (Hầm bí mật in tài liệu của Ban Tuyên huấn Hoa vận) at 341/10 Gia Phú, Q 6 and Sài Gòn-Gia Định Special Region Committee Secret Headquarters (Cơ sở bí mật của Thành ủy Sài Gòn-Gia Định) at 91 Phạm Văn Chí, Q 6 may be viewed by special arrangement with the District 6 Office of Culture, Sports and Tourism, UBND Quận 6, 107 Cao Văn Lầu, Phường 1, Quận 6, TP.HCM

Secret Weapons Hiding Place Museum (Bảo tàng Hầm bí mật chứa vũ khí) at 287/70 Nguyễn Đình Chiểu, Q 3 opens Mon-Fri on request from 7.30am-11.30am and 2pm-5pm.

Phong Phú Communal House (Đình Phong Phú) at Khu phố 3, Phường Tăng Nhơn Phú B, Q 9 is open daily from 7am-6pm.

Unification Palace (the former Independence Palace, Dinh Thống nhất) at 135 Nam Kỳ Khởi Nghĩa, Q 1 opens daily at 7.30am-11am, 1pm-4pm, admission Đ30,000 adults, Đ3,000 children.

Hồ Chí Minh City Museum (Bảo tàng Thành Phố Hồ Chí Minh) at 65 Lý Tự Trọng, Q 1, opens daily from 8am-4pm, admission Đ15,000.

Tim Doling is the author of the guidebook Exploring Saigon-Chợ Lớn – Vanishing heritage of Hồ Chí Minh City (Nhà Xuất Bản Thế Giới, Hà Nội, 2019)

A full index of all Tim’s blog articles since November 2013 is now available here.

Join the Facebook group pages Saigon-Chợ Lớn Then & Now to see historic photographs juxtaposed with new ones taken in the same locations, and Đài Quan sát Di sản Sài Gòn – Saigon Heritage Observatory for up-to-date information on conservation issues in Saigon and Chợ Lớn.

The Children’s Hospital 2

This article was published previously in Saigoneer http://saigoneer.com

One of the oldest hospitals in Asia, the Children’s Hospital 2 (Bệnh viện Nhi đồng 2) at 14 Lý Tự Trọng began life as a French military hospital.

The original location of the hospital is marked clearly on this 1864 map

Founded in 1862 by Admiral-Governor Louis-Adolphe Bonard (1805-1867), the Hôpital Militaire was originally located at the southeast corner of the rue Nationale [Hai Bà Trưng] and boulevard Norodom [Lê Duẩn] intersection, where the Kumho Asiana Plaza now stands.

Its primary function was to serve the marine infantry, who were then garrisoned in makeshift accommodation on the northern side of the same junction. However, from the outset it treated colonial civil servants as well as French and Vietnamese soldiers.

The hospital was staffed by French military doctors, with nursing support provided by the Sisters of Saint-Paul de Chartres.

Published in 1900, Les missions catholiques françaises au XIXe siècle, a history of the French Catholic foreign missions in the 19th century, describes the facilities of this early Military Hospital:

“Naturally, the first Military Hospital was nothing like the magnificent property that exists today: there were just three small rooms for the sick, a cramped room for the Sisters, and another tiny room of the same size for the administrator and doctors – that was all! The furniture was no better; biscuit boxes served as chairs, empty bottles as chandeliers. But the good Sisters hardly thought of comfort; their main concern was looking after the sick.”

The Military Hospital in the early 20th century

In the late 1870s, the hospital was rebuilt at its current location, 14, rue Lagrandière [14 Lý Tự Trọng], to plans by Lieutenant-Colonel J Varaigne, Director of the Marine Infantry Engineering Corps, and his deputy, Captain A A Dupommier.

Their design for the Colonial Infantry Barracks (1870-1873) had already attracted considerable acclaim, and it was therefore decided that the hospital buildings should be built in identical style.

The hospital buildings comprised a series of large pavilions, built from cast iron and brick on raised granite platforms. Linked to each other by gangways, they overlooked a central tree-lined avenue and incorporated peripheric verandas to enhance ventilation and optimise sanitary conditions. All of the construction materials were transported from France.

The main entrance to the Military Hospital in the early 20th century

In his memoirs of 1905, former Indochina Governor-General Paul Doumer (1897-1902) described the Military Hospital and the Colonial Infantry Barracks as “models of their kind…. The Hospital in particular, with its huge buildings and gardens lined with trees, plants and flowers, gives an impression of serene beauty that should make pain more bearable, and death sweeter for those who will die – too many, alas!”

It was in one of the hospital’s smaller pavilions that Albert Calmette (1863-1933), tasked with developing vaccines against rabies and smallpox, founded the first Pasteur-Institut outside France in 1891.

In 1904, when Alexandre Yersin (1863-1943) set up a larger Pasteur-Institut in Nha Trang, the Pasteur-Institut in Saigon became its annex. It was relocated to its current address, 167 rue Pellerin [Pasteur], in 1905.

The Grall Hospital in 1951

In 1925, the Hôpital Militaire was transformed into a general hospital and renamed the Hôpital Grall (Grall Hospital), in honour of the former Cochinchina Inspector-General of Medicine, Dr Charles Grall.

During the late colonial period, the hospital’s facilities continued to expand, and by the early 1950s, the Grall offered in excess of 500 beds and was recognised as a flagship of French medicine in Southeast Asia.

After the withdrawal of the last French troops from Indochina in April 1956, an agreement was signed between the French and RVN Foreign Ministries, permitting the French to continue running the hospital. During the 1960s, the hospital’s French medical staff ran training programmes at several universities and teaching hospitals, set up leprosy and polio treatment centres, and conducted several important research projects on Southeast Asian pathology.

The stele honouring the memory of scientists Calmette and Yersin

In 1963, a stele was set up in the hospital grounds, honouring the memory of scientists Calmette and Yersin, founders of the Pasteur-Institut in Việt Nam, which began life at the Military Hospital.

Following Reunification, the Grall Hospital resumed operation as a general hospital, but on 19 May 1978, it was transformed into a specialist pediatric hospital.

In May 1990, the Association des Anciens et des Amis de l’Hôpital Grall (Alumni and Friends Association of the Grall Hospital) was set up. Five months later, a Memorandum of Understanding was signed between France and Việt Nam, providing for “the Rehabilitation of Children’s Hospital No. 2 in Hồ Chí Minh City, known as the Grall Hospital,” including the upgrading of buildings and the improvement of medical and surgical equipment.

The main entrance to the Children’s Hospital 2 today

Carried out in stages between 1991 and 1995, this major project restored the old hospital pavilions sympathetically, adding an additional floor to what had previously been two-storey buildings, yet retaining all of the original architectural features.

Set amidst lush gardens and shady trees, the Children’s Hospital 2 has been cited as a prime example of how good architecture can make a healthcare environment welcoming to patients and their families, rather than treating them as victims in a stark and sterile space.

The design of the 11th Colonial Infantry Barracks buildings became the model for those in the Military Hospital

The Military Hospital in the late 19th century

A patient being cared for by one of the Sisters of Saint-Paul de Chartres in the Military Hospital in the early 20th century

The hospital chapel, now used as a store

In 1925, the Hôpital Militaire was renamed the Hôpital Grall, after former Inspector-General of Medicine, Dr Charles Grall

An art deco hospital building, added in the early 1930s

Part of the Grall Hospital in the 1940s

Nurses attend to a patient in 1947

Tim Doling is the author of the guidebook Exploring Saigon-Chợ Lớn – Vanishing heritage of Hồ Chí Minh City (Nhà Xuất Bản Thế Giới, Hà Nội, 2019)

A full index of all Tim’s blog articles since November 2013 is now available here.

Join the Facebook group pages Saigon-Chợ Lớn Then & Now to see historic photographs juxtaposed with new ones taken in the same locations, and Đài Quan sát Di sản Sài Gòn – Saigon Heritage Observatory for up-to-date information on conservation issues in Saigon and Chợ Lớn.

The 4-6-0 “Ten wheel” locomotive, which could haul trains of 300 tonnes at up to 40kph, or trains of 370 tonnes at 20-25kph

As Vietnam Railways draws up plans for a major upgrade of its network, let’s see how that network looked 88 years ago, as described in the February 1927 article “Quelques données techniques sur les chemins de fer de l’Indochine” (Some technical data on the railways of Indochina), published in the Bulletin de l’Agence générale des colonies.

The railway network in Indochina is equipped with 1m gauge track; the width of the track bed is 4.4m, a measurement which was set in anticipation of rolling stock with a body width of 2.8m.

Floods on the Lạng Sơn line in August 1904

The minimum curve radius is 100m and the maximum gradient is generally 15mm/m, except on some portions of the Saigon-Mytho line, and on the cog rail sections of the line from Krongpha to Dalat. Substantial portions of the line from Lao-Kay to Yunnan-fu have gradients which reach 25mm/m.

In general, small structures such as culvert bridges with openings of less than 6m are built using ordinary masonry. Major bridges have metal decks, because they usually provide passage not only for railway trains, but also for road traffic.

On the lines currently under construction, reinforced concrete is widely used, facilitating bridge spans of up to 15m on the Vinh to Dong-Ha section. The maximum bridge span will be increased to 25m on the new Tan-Ap-Thakhek line and other railways currently under development.

a) Track

The rails are laid on ballast made of crushed stones, 0.50m thick with a 2.40m base width. They are of the flat-bottomed “Vignoles” type, made from steel of 20, 25 or 27kg/m, according to the line. They are laid in sections of 8-12m.

Dĩ An Station in the colonial era

The weight of the rails will be increased to 30kg/m on those parts of the Transindochinois [North-South line] which remain to built, and this heavier rail will gradually replace the existing rails on other sections which have already been completed.

Fishplates are of a standard type, ranging from 5.5-6kg in weight. They are used to connect two sections of rail by means of four bolts positioned laterally.

Metal sleepers are employed throughout the Yunnan network and on most of the other lines. They have been very successful, although it is still impossible to indicate what their duration may be. Two types of metal sleeper have been used:

(i) Ménélik sleepers, made from soft steel, straight with curved ends: the rails are secured using steel crapauds, sleeper clips, nuts and bolts.

(ii) Micheville sleepers, also made from soft steel: housings to accommodate the rails are welded to their upper surface.

The weight of a sleeper, including accessories, is 40kg, and 1,250 of them may be laid per km of track.

A train runs along the Gianh River in Quảng Bình Province in the 1920s

In forest areas, wooden sleepers were preferred to metal sleepers because of the lower cost of purchase at the time the lines were constructed. They are made from dense and hard woods (cay nghien, cay sao) and are generally 1.80m long, 0.18m wide and 0.12m high.

However, the increasing difficulty of supplying wooden sleepers and the obvious superiority of metal sleepers have led to a gradual decrease in the use of wooden ones.

(b) Buildings

Most stations and halts are small, comprising only one building with facilities for both passengers and freight. Larger, more important stations have a variety of buildings and outbuildings of different types, including the lodgings of European or indigenous staff.

Workshops and depots are distributed throughout different parts of each network according to need. No construction workshop in the proper sense exists in Indochina. Rolling stock parts usually arrive ready-manufactured from Europe, leaving just the assembly, carpentry and interior work to be carried out in the colony.

Gia Lâm Works in the colonial era (ETHBIB Bildarchiv)

Some small guard huts have been built at level crossings, especially in built-up areas and at entrances to combined road and railway bridges and passing loops.

(c) Fixed equipment

The supply of water has not, in most cases, caused any difficulty. Facilities for the supply of water by gravity are limited and water pumps are used almost everywhere. Tanks, pipes and water cranes are of the current type.

It is the same with swing bridges and weighbridges. However, signalling apparatus is still rather limited: a general modification of signalling, necessitated by the steady increase in traffic, is currently being studied.

(d) Rolling stock

The most commonly-used type of locomotive has three pairs of coupled driving wheels, an adhesion weight of 30 tonnes and can haul trains of 300 tonnes at up to 40kph, or trains of 370 tonnes at 20-25kph.

More powerful locomotives (four pairs of coupled driving wheels with 40 tonnes adhesion weight) are used on the long 25mm/m gradients of the Yunnan railway. The section of the Langbian railway currently under construction will make use of special mixed adhesion and cog rail locomotives.

One of the second-generation superheated 4-6-0 “Ten wheel” locomotives delivered in the 1920s

Coal firing is used exclusively in Tonkin and in Yunnan, where this fuel is abundant.

In contrast, the Southern and Annam-Central networks burn wood, which is more economical for them.

On all of the various networks, travellers are divided into four classes.

For the first three classes, the carriages in service are usually mixed, with two 1st-class compartments, two 2nd-class compartments and four 3rd-class compartments. The carriages have gangways between the compartments. There are also cars comprising only 3rd-class compartments.

The 4th class is used almost exclusively by indigenous people. The carriages in this class have benches along the side walls, while the central area is kept free for transporting the passengers’ luggage, which is not allowed in the freight vans.

All passenger carriages have two bogies and a weight of around 16 tonnes.

Freight rolling stock includes covered wagons, gondola wagons and flat wagons; this rolling stock is of the current type for 1m gauge railways.

The interior of a 4th-class railway carriage in the 1920s

Covered wagons of 5 tonnes, 10 tonnes and 20 tonnes are currently in use.

The vehicles currently in service on the networks of the colony have simple vacuum brakes, which do not give sufficient security in the event of one of the hoses connecting the vehicles becoming displaced or broken. As these vehicles are used on some sections of track where the gradient is severe, prudence requires the adoption of automatic vacuum brakes. The current brakes must therefore be replaced with automatic brakes.

Signalling is almost non-existent at the moment. However, the increase in the circulation of trains necessitates the installation of protection discs some 500 to 800m before the points of restriction, at least on those parts of line where traffic is highest.

The installation of these disc signals would be most useful on the lines between Phu-Lang-Thuong and Vinh on the Northern network and between Saigon and Muong-Man on the Southern network. On other sections of line, their installation can be temporarily deferred.

The more intense traffic and the use of heavier trains also demands the reinforcement of existing rails. Renewals will be made annually, according to resources, with rails of the 30kg/m type being used for those sections of Transindochinois which remain to be built.

Freight being loaded at Bắc Lệ Station

Metal sleepers will also be substituted for the wooden ones which are still in use on major routes in the Northern and Southern networks as soon as the latter need replacing.

Finally, various complementary works, such as creating or lengthening loop lines and sidings and improving water supplies, will be carried out at various stations.

Tim Doling is the author of The Railways and Tramways of Việt Nam (White Lotus Press, Bangkok, 2012) and also gives talks on Việt Nam railway history to visiting groups.

A full index of all Tim’s blog articles since November 2013 is now available here.

Join the Facebook group Rail Thing – Railways and Tramways of Việt Nam for more information about Việt Nam’s railway and tramway history and all the latest news from Vietnam Railways.

You may also be interested in these articles on the railways and tramways of Việt Nam, Cambodia and Laos:

A Relic of the Steam Railway Age in Da Nang
By Tram to Hoi An
Date with the Wrecking Ball – Vietnam Railways Building
Derailing Saigon’s 1966 Monorail Dream
Dong Nai Forestry Tramway
Full Steam Ahead on Cambodia’s Toll Royal Railway
Goodbye to Steam at Thai Nguyen Steel Works
Ha Noi Tramway Network
Indochina Railways in 1928
“It Seems that One Network is being Stripped to Re-equip Another” – The Controversial CFI Locomotive Exchange of 1935-1936
Phu Ninh Giang-Cam Giang Tramway
Saigon Tramway Network
Saigon’s Rubber Line
The Changing Faces of Sai Gon Railway Station, 1885-1983
The Langbian Cog Railway
The Long Bien Bridge – “A Misshapen but Essential Component of Ha Noi’s Heritage”
The Lost Railway Works of Truong Thi
The Mysterious Khon Island Portage Railway
The Railway which Became an Aerial Tramway
The Saigon-My Tho Railway Line