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TRAVELS
IN THE
CENTRAL PARTS OF INDO-CHINA
(SIAM),
CAMBODIA, AND LAOS.

TRAVELS
IN THE
CENTRAL PARTS OF INDO-CHINA
(SIAM),
CAMBODIA, AND LAOS,
DURING THE YEARS 1858, 1859, AND 1860.

BY THE LATE
M. HENRI MOUHOT,
FRENCH NATURALIST.

IN TWO VOLUMES.—Vol. II.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.

LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET,
1864.

LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET,
AND CHARING CROSS.

CONTENTS OF VOL. II.

ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOL. II.

TRAVELS IN INDO-CHINA, ETC.

CHAPTER XIII.

Ongcor Thôm (Ongcor the Great)—Surrounding Wall—Triumphal Arch.

ONGCOR THÔM.

Half-a-mile beyond Bakhêng are the ruins of Ongcor-Thôm. A partly-destroyed road, hidden by thick layers of sand and dust, and crossing a large ditch, half filled with blocks of stone, portions of columns, and fragments of sculptured lions and elephants, leads to the gateway of the town, which is built in the style of a triumphal arch.

These remains are in a tolerable state of preservation, and are composed of a central tower, 18 metres high, surrounded by four turrets, and flanked by two other towers connected together by galleries. At the top are four immense heads in the Egyptian style; and every available space is filled with sculpture. At the foot of the great tower is a passage for carriages; and on each side of it are doors and staircases communicating with the walls, the whole building being constructed of sandstone. The outer wall is composed of blocks of ferruginous stone, and extends right and left from the entrance. It is about 24 miles square, 3 met. 80 centimet. thick, and 7 met. high, and serves as a support to a glacis which rises almost from the top. At the four cardinal points are doors, there being two on the east side. Within this vast enclosure, now covered with an almost impenetrable forest, are a vast number of buildings, more or less in ruin, which testify to the ancient splendour of the town. In some places, where the heavy rains have washed away the soil, or where the natives have dug in search for treasure, may be seen immense quantities of porcelain and pottery.

Prea sat Ling poun.

PREA SAT LING POUN.

Within the enclosure of Ongcor Thôm, and two miles from the west gate, are to be seen through the trees the tops of the high towers of a building called by the Cambodians “Prea sat Ling poun,” that is to say, “The Pagoda where they play hide and seek.” It is a collection of 37 towers of unequal size, connected by galleries which cross each other perpetually, and form a labyrinth through which it is not easy to find one’s way. A long shallow ditch, crossed by four roads leading to the principal entrances, surrounds it on all sides. Beyond the ditch rises the wall of a gallery, of which the exterior colonnades and the roof are only a mass of ruins, over which you must climb to reach the interior. This wall is still intact: it is about 120 metres long, and forms a square round the pagoda. About 1 metre from the ground are visible, in places where the blocks fallen from the roof have not hidden everything, various bas-reliefs carved in the thickness of the wall: they are not surmounted by cornices as at Ongcor-Wat, by which it would seem as if they had never been finished.

Besides the four principal entrances there were other doors at unequal distances in this gallery, but singularly enough many of them have been walled up. The gallery was connected with the main body of the building by four smaller ones opposite each of the great doors, and forming a covered way to the interior; but all these galleries are destroyed.

The second enclosure is 65 metres square, and each front is composed of five towers, connected by galleries. The central and corner towers are the largest: they are about 13 metres high. High galleries connect the centre tower with the intermediate ones, which again are connected with those at the corners by galleries of a less elevation.

On each side are seven staircases, of six steps each, and leading either to towers or galleries: these galleries are covered by a triple roof: a central one 7 metres high, resting on an outer wall, and on columns 2 metres in height; an exterior roof on a double row of columns; and a third resting on a very low wall, pierced with numerous large windows looking on to a narrow interior court.

On the exterior of the wall, which on one side sustains the high roof, are a series of bas-reliefs, surrounding the whole gallery. They are sculptured in the thickness of the wall, and are curious from the scenes and costumes they represent. These scenes are drawn more from the sacred books of the people than from their history; for men with ten heads and twenty arms, fantastic animals, griffins and dragons, are favourite subjects. The men all wear the langouti, and often nothing beside, and have the ears pierced and hanging on their shoulders: many have long beards.

In the vestibules of the towers, and in the high galleries near them, are kings and queens seated on a rich dais, with a numerous court, and surrounded by persons carrying parasols, fans, standards, and caskets: there are likewise many musicians with drums, flutes, and harps.

In the galleries are represented several boats’ crews fighting; while underneath are fishes disputing for the bodies of the slain. There are also in the same galleries persons in attitudes of adoration, with clasped hands, before a figure of Samonakodom.

In another part is a long procession: the king is in a large open carriage, divided into three compartments, he being in the centre one, and his wives in the two others. This carriage has six wheels and two shafts, which rest on the shoulders of eight men. The chiefs are mounted on elephants or horses, or seated in carriages drawn by four led horses, and by their side march a numerous company bearing standards, parasols, and caskets.

The bas-reliefs at the east and north sides represent similar scenes, as well as many of the fabulous men and animals which are to be seen in those at Ongcor-Wat. In numerous places the water, trickling through holes in the roof, has so obliterated the carving that the subjects can no longer be recognised. This gallery, with its sixteen towers, is connected with another only 3 metres distant; and this last has five towers on each side, of which the three in the middle face the exterior towers. The interior of the gallery with its three roofs receives no light but by the doors, and is so dark that torches are necessary when it is visited. The gallery, sustained by two rows of columns and by an exterior wall, has no bas-reliefs. The towers, which are built at equal distances, are thus disposed: the largest at the angles, two smaller ones next to them, and one of medium size in the centre.

The middle of the terrace is occupied by a large tower connected with the gallery by two others, only about a metre distant. The central tower is circular at the base, is 20 metres in diameter, and nearly 40 metres high, and has on each side a turret. A colonnade supporting a roof, now in ruins, surrounds it: the columns, each of which is hewn out of a single block of stone more than 40 metres high, are still standing. Four doors lead to the interior. Outside this tower, between each two doors, are three chapels, constructed out of the thickness of the wall, and having no communication with each other, nor with the exterior. In nearly every one of them is a full-length statue of Samanokodom seated on a pedestal.

On visiting this place you behold on every side the tops of these numerous towers, and the roofs of the galleries, intermingled with large trees, creepers, and thistles, which invade the courts, the terraces, and other parts; and you have at first some difficulty in comprehending the arrangements of the different buildings. It is only after a long examination that you perceive the symmetry of them as a whole, and that these thirty-seven towers and numerous galleries are all in regular order. Some parts are in good preservation; others have been dealt hardly with by time, in spite of the immense size of the blocks of stone, and the skill with which they are united; and the condition of this stone, ready to crumble to powder, seems to prove that this structure was anterior to Ongcor-Wat.

Like it, it is built of sandstone, and the roofs are very similar, only that, in place of the pointed stones ranged in courses at Ongcor, these are embellished, at about two-thirds of their height, with four gigantic sculptured heads.

The roof is terminated by a very elegant embrasure, a feature not belonging to the other temple. Every door in the building is sunk, and many of them are admirably carved, displaying scenes full of expression, skilfully arranged, and exquisitely delicate in detail. They represent various subjects: worshippers prostrated before their idols, musicians and comedians performing pantomimes, chariots filled with warriors standing up, and drawn by horses galloping: in some instances they appear to be running races.

Not far from this labyrinth are three platforms close together, each occupied by a colossal idol of stone, and gilt. These idols appear to be of modern date; but at their feet are assembled a number of others, some uninjured, some broken, collected from among the ruins. On one of the platforms are several stones fixed in the ground; on one of which is a long undecipherable inscription.

Phiménan Aca. The Palace of the ancient Kings.

ANCIENT PALACE.

Three walls at some distance from each other, and each bounded by a moat, surround what remains of the palace of the ancient kings. Within the first enclosure are two towers connected by galleries, which form four sides, like a triumphal arch. The walls are of ferruginous stone, and the length of each block forms the thickness of the wall. The towers and galleries are of sandstone.

A hundred metres from the angle of the square formed on the north side by the wall, is a singular building, consisting of two high terraces, and communicating with the outer wall by another terrace half in ruins.

In a cavity recently made by excavations, are visible large sculptured blocks, which seem to have fallen from the top. The walls, still intact, are covered with bas-reliefs, disposed in four rows, one above another, each representing a king seated in the Oriental fashion, with his hands resting on a broken poignard, and by his side a number of women. All these figures are covered with ornaments, such as very long earrings, necklaces, and bracelets. Their costume is the langouti, and all wear high head-dresses terminating in a point, and apparently composed of precious stones, pearls, and gold and silver ornaments.

On another side the bas-reliefs represent combats; and here are children with long hair tied up like the savages of the East. Everything here, however, yields in beauty to the statue of the leprous king, which is at the end of the terrace. The head, admirable in its nobility, regularity of feature, and gentle yet proud expression, must have been the work of the most skilful sculptor of the country, in an age when many, doubtless, evinced great talent. A small moustache covers his upper lip, and his hair falls in long curls over his shoulders; but the whole body is naked, and without ornament. One foot and one hand are broken.

Prea sat sour prôt.

RUINED PAGODAS.

About 1200 metres in front of the building just described is one called “Prea sat sour prôt,” and said to have been the royal treasury. It is square, and consists of sixteen towers connected by galleries, but nearly all in ruins: the doorways and walls are ornamented with sculpture, as in the other remains. It served, they say, as a depository for the crown jewels. The Cambodians also believe that ropes were stretched from one tower to another, on which dancers exercised their skill in the presence of the king, who, seated on one of the neighbouring terraces, enjoyed their performances. All traditions being lost, the natives invent new ones, according to the measure of their capacity.

The centre of the interior of the third enclosure is occupied by an immense esplanade, supported by walls formed of magnificent blocks of stone, sculptured and surrounded by staircases. The ground is level; but in the excavations that had been made I remarked large masses of carved stone.

Not far from this esplanade is a square building in tolerable preservation, the basement composed of great blocks of ferruginous stone, as are the staircases, of which there are four, one on each side; but they are so steep, narrow, and worn away that it is difficult to climb them. The base supports small galleries, very narrow, and having windows with carved bars. The stones and every doorway are covered with inscriptions.

In the centre of the gallery rises a ruined tower, approached by four staircases, as awkward to ascend as the others just mentioned. Near the doors are some figures of women, standing with flowers in their hands. This building appears very old: the stone is crumbling away like rotten wood.

Prea sat Fiao Saïe.

On the banks of the river which skirts the eastern side of Ongcor Thôm are several remains. The first you come to is Fiao Saïe, two or three hundred metres from the water’s edge. Large and deep ditches surround it on all sides; and when these have been crossed you arrive in front of a terrace 45 metres long, and 2 metres 50 centimetres in width. Four rows of columns 1 metre high are all that is left standing. Those in the middle rows are square, the others are fluted, with capitals. This terrace leads to a square formed by four galleries, each 20 metres long: the one facing the terrace has three porticoes with doors and staircases, while in the centre, and at each corner of the gallery, are towers.

Another gallery, 40 metres long, leads from the central tower to another larger one, where, on a high pedestal, is placed the principal idol. On each side of this tower are three staircases, with porticoes projecting four or five metres, and supported by six high columns. All the windows have been ornamented with twisted bars, many of which still remain. By the side of each door are carved columns, every block being cut and polished with infinite patience and art. There are some bas-reliefs portraying a lion devouring a stag, dances, pantomimes, worshippers before idols, &c. As at Ongcor-Wat, the building is entirely composed of great blocks of sandstone.

Prea sat Iheur Manone Tireada, or the Temple of the Angels.

This little pagoda is only about 150 metres from the preceding, and, according to tradition, was formerly a celebrated school for Buddhist theology. At the east is the principal entrance, which consists of a gallery 18 metres long, with a portico in the centre, and staircases. A second gallery, 30 metres long, terminated by a tower, extends from the centre of the other, and at about two-thirds of its length open out on either side porticoes and staircases. There are two other small buildings north and south, and a third behind the tower. That on the south is in good preservation, but receives no light except through a single door. This pagoda has been built with smaller stones than the other temples: in its architecture and details it much resembles Fiao Saïe.

The Bridge.

THE BRIDGE.

Near Iheur Manone Tireada is a bridge of very ancient date, in a fair state of preservation, excepting the parapet and a portion of the roadway, which are a mass of ruins; but the piers and arches still remain. The piers are formed of sandstone, some of the blocks being long, others square, and placed irregularly; a few only are carved.

This bridge, with its fourteen narrow arches, may be about 42 or 43 metres in length, and 45 metres wide.

The river, instead of flowing under its arches, runs now along the side, its bed having been altered by the shifting of the sand, which has so accumulated around the piers and fallen stones, that a great portion of the former is concealed.

This bridge must have served as a communication between Ongcor the Great and the high road, which, traversing the province from east to west, took afterwards a southerly direction.

Prea sat Kéo.

Two hundred metres from the bridge rise, amidst the forest, the imposing ruins of Prea sat Kéo, to reach which you have to cross a deep moat. This done, you arrive at the exterior wall, which has four entrances formed by elegant pavilions, with staircases of eight steps leading to a terrace raised nearly 2 metres from the ground; from this you pass into a low narrow gallery with numerous interior windows ornamented with twisted bars. This gallery surrounds the building, and you ascend to it by a staircase leading to a second terrace. Three other terraces, each more than 3 metres 50 centimetres wide, rise one above another, supported on blocks of well-cut sandstone.

Each terrace forms a perfect square, the sides of the first measuring each 30 metres in length. A staircase, 15 metres high and 3½ metres wide, leads to the top; and a wide parapet to the staircase serves as a pedestal for four statues of lions, more or less injured. In the centre of the upper terrace is a lofty tower, and there are four smaller ones at the corners. Each tower has four porticoes with staircases, which rest on a base 7 metres high, and these towers are reached by staircases of twenty-two steps. From them a magnificent view is obtained over the surrounding forest. They, as well as their bases and staircases, are built of great blocks of granite arranged in regular tiers, and joined together in the most perfect manner. There is little sculpture, and the doorways have been left unfinished. The towers are without roofs, and perhaps never had any. The whole building appears very ancient, judging by the condition of the stone, which in many places is falling to pieces.

Pontéey ta Proum.—Town of Ta Proum.

RUINED TOWNS.

On the road before mentioned are two towns containing some remarkable buildings. These towns, each of which is enclosed by walls forming a square, almost touch each other, being only about 20 metres apart. The walls are of ferruginous stone, surmounted by a coping of carved sandstone resembling a cornice, above which are serrated stones, giving a very finished appearance to the wall.

The smallest of these towns is called Pontéey Kedey (Town of Kedey); the other, Pontéey ta Proum.

The town of Ta Proum has seven gateways in the style of triumphal arches, formed by a central tower at the entrance and by lateral galleries. As at Ongcor the Great, a deep track is worn in the roadway beneath by the passage of vehicles. The interior of the town is completely deserted; no one enters it except the Cambodians from a hamlet outside the enclosure, who cultivate a few rice-plantations. In the centre are the ruins of a large and splendid monument, which has suffered greatly by the hand of time, and perhaps also from barbarous invasions. The ruins are surrounded by a double wall of ferruginous stone and by deep moats; and at every entrance are galleries with porticoes. A long gallery, 120 metres on each side, and with porticoes at the middle and at each end, goes quite round the building. Exteriorly, on each side, are two detached towers about 10 or 15 metres from the ruins. This gallery is formed by an interior wall and colonnades supporting a vaulted roof, which in many places has fallen in, and most of the columns are overthrown.

On the opposite wall are large bas-reliefs, forming series of subjects, set in a magnificent framework, which is in so good a state of preservation that the delicacy of the execution can be appreciated. As for the bas-reliefs themselves, they are much injured, not so much by time as by some barbarous hand, for everywhere are marks of the hammer or pickaxe. Leaving this gallery on the western side, you enter a long court, in which are three detached towers, and on the opposite side are similar towers.

Several of these, which are from 8 to 10 metres high, and well preserved, are real works of art. The mandarins of the provinces of Ongcor and Battambong are at present occupied in taking two of them to pieces, in order to transport them to Bangkok, the king having issued orders to that effect, and appointed one of the mandarins to carry them out.[1]

Beyond, extends a second rectangular gallery, connected with the first by three parallel galleries and two transverse ones. At the points where they intersect are ten towers, placed, like the galleries, in an odd and unsymmetrical fashion. The perfect preservation of several parts of these last, and the ruinous state of others, seem to mark different ages.

One of the towers and several of the galleries are constructed of ferruginous stone, the others of sandstone. The architecture of the galleries is the same as that of Ongcor-Wat, a double roof with colonnades. All the building is on one floor. This temple, which, after Ongcor-Wat, is the largest of all, is situated in a desert place, and lost amidst a forest; an exuberant vegetation has overgrown everything, galleries and towers, so that it is difficult to force a passage.

Ruins in the Province of Battambong.

RUINS OF BATTAMBONG.

The principal ruins of this province are those of Bassette, Banone, and Watêk. I visited Bassette twice, before going to Ongcor and after; but all I could bring away was the design of a bas-relief in perfect preservation, carved on a block of sandstone 1 metre 50 centimetres long, forming the top of a doorway in a brick tower. The whole place is so ruinous, that one might suppose some enemy had done his utmost to demolish it, or that one gazed at the results of an earthquake. A thick vegetation, the haunt of fierce animals, has sprung up, and we found it quite impossible to discover the plan of the buildings. Galleries have disappeared under the ground, and the bases of doorways are to be seen 2 metres above.

The only portion which remains at all perfect is an erection 25 metres long and 6 metres wide, divided in two parts by an interior wall, the ends of which are in the form of a tower. It is built entirely of stone, and the exterior bears traces of fine carving on the tops of the doors and on the cornices; inside, the walls are bare, and almost all the stones chipped and injured. The windows have been ornamented with twisted bars, of which only a few traces remain.

On the ground inside lies a large broken stone, 5 decimetres wide and 2 thick, having on each side inscriptions apparently similar; this, and two small fractured idols are the sole remains of Buddhism at Bassette. The subjects, most frequently occurring over the doors, represent men with long beards, seated, and wearing high conical head-dresses, the hands either resting on the hilt of a poignard or crossed one over another, elephants with four heads, and other fanciful creatures.

A little beyond this enclosure is another, bounded by a wall of sandstone, a single block forming the thickness; it appears to have been only 75 centimetres high, and to have served as a kind of terrace. Within this enclosure are some magnificent columns, some still standing, others overthrown; doorways, the upper portions of which alone are visible above the ground; here and there fragments of sculptured stone, towers and walls nearly destroyed, and a beautiful dry basin, 18 metres square and above 2 metres deep, to which you descend by flights of steps extending the entire length of each side.

BASSETTE—BANONE.

Bassette is believed to have been the occasional residence of the ancient sovereigns. Battambong is comparatively modern. It is scarcely a century since Bassette was the centre of a numerous Cambodian population, which has entirely disappeared in consequence of the frequent hostilities between Cambodia and Siam, the inhabitants being led away captive by the conquerors, who often employed this method of peopling the desert parts of their country. It is thus that, in Siam and Laos, entire provinces are to be found, of which the great mass of the population are of Cambodian origin.

The river which formerly flowed near Bassette has been banked up, and a new settlement, peopled from Penom-Peuh, Udong, and other places, formed in the place now called Battambong. Bassette is nine miles from this place, and about as far from the mountains.

Banone.—Ascending the river again for about forty miles from Battambong in a southerly direction, you arrive at a mountain standing somewhat isolated, but forming part of the ramifications of the great chain of Pursat. At the foot is a miserable pagoda of recent origin, and in the environs a few hamlets, while on the summit are the ruins of Banone.

BANONE—WAT-EK.

Eight towers are connected with galleries, and communicate on two sides by a wall with a central tower nearly 8 metres in diameter. The buildings are all on one floor, and built of sandstone, and appear of the same date as Bassette. Although there is nothing about them especially remarkable, what remains of the galleries displays fine workmanship, and great taste and skill in construction.

Banone must have been a temple, for there are still in the central tower, and in two smaller ones connected by a gallery, a great number of enormous Buddhist idols, probably as ancient as the building itself, and surrounded by many divinities of less size. At the foot of the neighbouring mountains is a deep cavern in the limestone rock, from the roof of which hang some beautiful stalactites. The water dropping from these is considered sacred by the Cambodians, who attribute to it, amongst other virtues, that of imparting a knowledge of the past, present, and future. Devotees consequently resort hither in pilgrimage, from time to time, to gain information as to their own fate or that of their country, and address their prayers to the numerous idols scattered about on the ground or placed in the cavities of the rocks.

WAT-EK.

Wat-Ek.—This temple is about six miles on the other side of Battambong, and is in tolerably good preservation. The architecture of the galleries is full of beauty, and that of the tower very imposing; but neither here nor at Banone are you met by the singular grandeur and magnificence which make so great an impression on you in visiting Ongcor and most of the other ruins.

Wat-Ek is situated in an immense plain, bounded north and east by the beautiful mountains of Pursat and ramifications of those of Chantaboun.

CHAPTER XIV.

Remarks on Cambodia and its Ruins.

REMARKS ON CAMBODIA.

A knowledge of Sanscrit, of “Pali,” and of some modern languages of Hindostan and Indo-China, would be the only means of arriving at the origin of the ancient people of Cambodia who have left all these traces of their civilization, and that of their successors, who appear only to have known how to destroy, never to reconstruct. Until some learned archæologist shall devote himself to this subject, it is not probable that aught but contradictory speculations will be promulgated. Some day, however, the truth will surely appear and put them all to flight. I myself, having nothing but conjecture to rest upon, advance my own theory with diffidence.

Nokhor has been the centre and capital of a wealthy, powerful, and civilized state, and in this assertion I do not fear contradiction from those who have any knowledge of its gigantic ruins. Now, for a country to be rich and powerful, a produce relatively great and an extended commerce must be presumed. Doubtless, Cambodia was formerly thus favoured, and would be so at the present day under a wise government, if labour and agriculture were encouraged instead of despised, if the ruling powers exercised a less absolute despotism, and, above all, if slavery were abolished—that miserable institution which is a bar to all progress, reduces man to the level of the brute, and prevents him from cultivating more than sufficient for his own actual wants.[2]

The greater part of the land is surprisingly fertile, and the rice of Battambong is superior to that of Cochin China. The forests yield precious gums, gum-lac, gamboge, cardamoms, and many others, as well as some useful resins. They likewise produce most valuable timber, both for home use and for exportation, and dye-woods in great variety. The mines afford gold, iron, and copper.

Fruits and vegetables of all kinds abound, and game is in great profusion. Above all, the great lake is a source of wealth to the whole nation; the fish in it are so incredibly abundant that when the water is high they are actually crushed under the boats, and the play of the oars is frequently impeded by them. The quantities taken there every year by a number of enterprising Cochin Chinese are literally miraculous. The river of Battambong is not less plentifully stocked, and I have seen a couple of thousand taken in one net.

Neither must I omit to mention the various productions which form so important a part of the riches of a nation, and which might be here cultivated in the greatest perfection. I would especially instance cotton, coffee, indigo, tobacco, and the mulberry, and such spices as nutmegs, cloves, and ginger. Even now all these are grown to a certain limited extent, and are allowed to be of superior quality. Sufficient cotton is raised to supply all Cochin China, and to allow of some being exported to China itself. From the little island of Ko-Sutin alone, leased to the planters by the King of Cambodia, the transport of the cotton produce employs a hundred vessels. What might not be accomplished if these were colonies belonging to a country such, for example, as England, and were governed as are the dependencies of that great and generous nation?

Battambong and Korat are renowned for their silken “langoutis” of brilliant and varied colours, both the material and the dyes being the produce of the country.

A glance at the map of Cambodia suffices to show that it communicates with the sea by the numerous mouths of the Mekong and the numberless canals of Lower Cochin China, which was formerly subject to it; with Laos and with China, by the great river.

INHABITANTS OF CAMBODIA.

These facts being established, whence came the original inhabitants of this country? Was it from India, the cradle of civilization, or was it from China? The language of the present natives is that of the old Cambodians or Khendome, as they call the people who live retired at the foot of the mountains and on the table-lands, and it is too distinct from Chinese to render the latter supposition possible. But whether this people originally came from the north or from the west, by sea, and gradually making their way up the rivers, or from the land, and descending them, it seems certain that there must have been here other ancient settlers, who introduced Buddhism and civilization. It would appear as though these had been succeeded by some barbarous race, who drove the original inhabitants far into the interior, and destroyed many of their buildings. At all events, it is my belief that, without exaggeration, the date of some of the oldest parts of Ongcor the Great may be fixed at more than 2000 years ago, and the more recent portions not much later. The state of decay of many of these structures would indicate even a greater age; but they probably date from the dispersion of the Indian Buddhists, which took place several centuries before the Christian era, and which led to the expatriation of thousands of individuals.

All that can be said respecting the present Cambodians is, that they are an agricultural people, among whom a certain taste for art still shows itself in the carved work of the boats belonging to the better classes, and their chief characteristic is unbounded conceit.

SAVAGES OF THE EAST.

It is not so among the savages of the east, called by the Cambodians their elder brothers. I passed four months among them, and, arriving direct from Cambodia, it seemed like entering a country comparatively civilized. Great gentleness, politeness, and even sociability—which, to my fancy, bore evidence of a past refinement—struck me in these poor children of nature, buried for centuries in their deep forests, which they believe to be the largest portion of the world, and to which they are so strongly attached that no inducement would tempt them to move. At the risk, then, of this portion of my notes being passed over by many readers, I shall enlarge a little upon these people, my own observations being aided by the information afforded me by the missionaries who have for years resided among their different tribes.

When looking at the figures in the bas-reliefs at Ongcor, I could not avoid remarking the strong resemblance of the faces to those of these savages. And besides the similar regularity of feature, there are the same long beards, straight langoutis, and even the same weapons and musical instruments.

Almost all the fruit-trees of the neighbouring countries are found, though in small numbers, among them; and they have some good species of bananas, which are unknown beyond the limits of their forests.

Having a great taste for music, and being gifted with ears excessively fine, with them originated the tam-tam, so prized among the neighbouring nations; and by uniting its sounds to those of a large drum, they obtain music tolerably harmonious. The art of writing is unknown to them; and as they necessarily lead a wandering life, they seem to have lost nearly all traditions of the past. The only information I could extract from their oldest chiefs was, that far beyond the chain of mountains which crosses the country from north to south are other “people of the high country”—such is the name they give themselves; that of savage wounds them greatly—that they have many relations there, and they even cite names of villages or hamlets as far as the provinces occupied by the Annamite invaders. Their practice is to bury their dead.

THE BANNAVS.

I extract the following account of the Bannavs—which applies to most of the tribes inhabiting the mountains and table-lands between Tonquin and Laos, Cochin China and Cambodia—from a letter of M. Comte, missionary in Cochin China, who recently died amongst them after a residence of several years:—

“To what race do the Bannavs belong? That is the first question I asked myself on arriving here, and I must confess that I cannot yet answer it; all I can say is, that in all points they differ from the Annamites and Chinese; neither do they resemble the Laotians or Cambodians, but appear to have a common origin with the Cédans, Halangs, Reungao, and Giaraïe, their neighbours. Their countenances, costumes, and belief are nearly the same; and the language, although it differs in each tribe, has yet many words common to all; the construction, moreover, is perfectly identical. I have not visited the various tribes of the south, but from all I have heard I conclude that these observations apply to them also, and that all the savages inhabiting the vast country lying between Cochin China, Laos, and Cambodia belong to the same great branch of the human family.

“The language spoken by the Bannavs has nothing in common with that of the Annamites. Very simple in its construction, it is soft, flowing, and easy.

“These people manufacture the saucepans in which they cook their rice and wild herbs, the hatchets, pickaxes, and pruning-bills, which comprise all their agricultural instruments, the sabres which serve them as weapons, and the long-handled knives used for various kinds of work in which they excel. Their clay calumets, tastefully ornamented with leaves or other devices, are the production of the most skilful among the tribe. The women weave pieces of white or black cloth, which they use for coverings, and which, coarse as they are, form the principal article of commerce between the Bannavs and the Cédans.

“The villagers who live on the banks of the river Bla make light canoes, which are both solid and graceful, out of the trunks of trees. Such are the principal articles produced by the Bannavs, who are more backward than any of the other tribes, having little inventive genius.

“The Giaraïe, their neighbours on the south, show much taste and aptness in all they do; their clothes are of a finer texture than those spun by the Bannavs, and are sometimes embellished with designs which would be admired even in Europe. The iron which they forge is also wrought into more elegant forms, and is more finely tempered; and they manufacture some articles in copper. Very superior to the Reungao, they do not perhaps surpass the Halangs.

“The Cédans are a tribe of iron-workers, their country abounding in mines of this metal. The inhabitants of more than seventy villages, when their agricultural labours are over, busy themselves in extracting and working the ore, which they afterwards dispose of in the shape of hatchets, pickaxes, lances, and sabres.

“Amongst all the dwellers in a Bannav village, even more than among the other natives, there exists a very decided spirit of community. Thus, no family will drink wine without inviting others to join them, as long as the quantity will hold out; and on killing a pig, goat, or buffalo, the possessor divides it into as many portions as there are families, reserving for himself a share very little larger than the others. No one is forgotten in this distribution, from the youngest child to the oldest man. The deer and wild boar taken in the chase are divided in the same way, the hunters retaining only a rather larger portion in consideration of their labour and fatigue. I have actually seen a fowl divided into forty or fifty parts. Even if the children catch a serpent, a lizard, or a mouse in their little expeditions, you will see the oldest of them, on returning, portion it with strict impartiality amongst the party. These customs might have been borrowed from the early Christians had these savages ever heard of them. The other tribes also observe them, but less scrupulously.

“Not only does general censure follow any criminal act, but severe penalties, such as slavery or exile, are imposed for lying. Even suicide—instances of which you occasionally find among them—has a stigma affixed to it in their penal code; any one who perishes by his own hand is buried in a corner of the forest far from the graves of his brethren, and all who have assisted in the sepulture are required afterwards to purify themselves in a special manner.

“This legislation is far from being deficient in morality and wisdom, but unfortunately on certain points it is tainted with superstition, and has opened a large door to numberless injustices, and sometimes provoked cruel strife. On the subject of witchcraft they are particularly credulous: nearly every misfortune is attributed by them to the malice of certain persons whom they believe gifted with the power of influencing their fate; superstition serves as a guide to seek out the guilty individual, and when he is supposed to be discovered, he is usually sold for a slave, or a heavy ransom is exacted.

“The Bannavs believe in the existence of a multitude of spirits, some mischievous to man, others beneficent. According to their creed, every large tree, every mountain, every river, every rock, almost everything, has its particular genius; but they seem to have no idea of a superior being, sovereign and Creator of all things.

“If you ask them respecting the origin of mankind, all they tell you is, that the father of the human race was saved from an immense inundation by means of a large chest in which he shut himself up; but of the origin or creator of this father they know nothing. Their traditions do not reach beyond the Deluge; but they will tell you that in the beginning one grain of rice sufficed to fill a saucepan and furnish a repast for a whole family. This is a souvenir of the first age of the world, that fugitive period of innocence and happiness which poets have called the golden age.

“They have no very fixed ideas on the subject of rewards and punishments in a future life. They believe in the immortality of the soul, which, after leaving the body, they imagine wanders about the tombs and adjacent mountains, often terrifying the living by nocturnal appearances, and finally loses itself for ever in the shadowy depths of the regions of the south.

“All their religion consists of sacrifices and vows, vain and endless observances performed in the hope of warding off misfortune, alleviating suffering, and retarding the hour of death; for, as with all Pagans, the foundation of their religion is terror and egotism.”

DIALECTS OF THE SAVAGE TRIBES.

On my return from my excursion amongst the Stiêns, M. Fontaine, whom I met at Pinhalú, was so kind as to present me with his journal, kept during a residence of twenty years among various savage races, and which I hope some day will see the light; and he likewise favoured me with the following remarks on the dialects of several of these tribes:—

“The language of the Giaraïe and that of the Redais bear a strong resemblance to each other: the two tribes are only separated from each other by the river Bong, which flows between them in a westerly direction, after running for some distance from south to north and watering the lands of the Candians or Bihcandians, whose language also resembles in some degree that of the tribes just mentioned. The dialect of the Bonnavs or Menons does not appear to me to have any similitude to the others, nor even to those of the tribes farther north.

“After a sojourn of several years among these tribes, I was forced, on account of my health, to go to Singapore. I was astonished, after a little study of Malayan, to find in that language a number of Giaraïe words, and many more bearing a strong resemblance to words in that dialect; and I doubt not this similarity would be found still more remarkable by any one who thoroughly studied both languages. The resemblance also of the language of the Thiâmes, the ancient inhabitants of Isiampa, now in the province of Annam, to that of these tribes, leads me to believe that they must all have sprung from the same root.”

The information I obtained from the Stiêns accords perfectly with these remarks of M. Fontaine:—“The Thiâmes,” they said, “understand our language very well, but the Kouïs, who live beyond the great river, speak exactly the same language as ourselves.” M. Arnoux, another missionary in Cochin China, who has long resided amongst these savage tribes, speaks in the same way respecting the language. To M. Arnoux also I owe the exact latitude of many places on the map, and a great deal of topographical information about the whole country; and it affords me great pleasure here to express my gratitude and my esteem for his character.

“The languages of the Sedans,” says he, “of the Reungaos, and of the Italhans are almost identical, although often varying slightly even in the same tribe: the dialect of the northern Sedans is somewhat different from that of the southerns, and the Stiengs of Brelum speak differently from those farther to the east.

“The Bannav and the Bannam are nearly the same; the Bannav and Sedan much alike; generally only the terminations differ, but there are words in each not to be found in the other. M. Fontaine found that the Ieboune and Braon strongly resemble the Bannav. I cannot speak personally about the Giaraïe, Nedais, Bonous, and Bih; but doubtless others can.”

I myself remarked many Stiên words like the Cambodian, especially in the western districts, where there exists some commerce between the two countries. To all this must be added that the Siamese, Laotian,[3] and Cambodian seem to be sister languages: more than a fourth part of the words, especially those expressing intellectual things, are exactly the same in each.

In the course of this work I have cited several passages from the Life of the Abbé Gagelin, who died a martyr in Cochin China, and which was published by Abbé Jacquenet: in it mention is made of savage races on the coast of Siam and in the environs of Kompat (Cambodia). I have sought in vain for them, and no one has ever heard them spoken of. Probably the missionary was deceived by his servants, who were Annamites, and they always call the Cambodians and Siamese savages (Noye Uhen, inhabitants of the woods), while they give themselves the appellation of citizens.

Notwithstanding all my efforts to discover the traces of the probable migrations of the Jewish people through Siam and Cambodia, I have met with nothing satisfactory excepting a record of the judgment of Solomon, which, as I before stated, was found by M. Miche, Bishop of Laos and Cambodia, to be preserved verbatim in one of the Cambodian sacred books. To all my questions on this subject I received the same answer, “There are no Jews in the country.” Nevertheless, among the Stiêns, I could not but be struck by the Hebrew character of many of the faces.

LIMITS OF CAMBODIA.

In 1670 Cambodia extended as far as Isiampa; but the provinces of Lower Cochin China, as Bien-hoa, Digne-Theun, Vigue Laon, Ann Djiann, and Ita-Tienne—all at one time conquered and annexed—have, for more than a century, shaken off their dependence on Cambodia; and the language and ancient Cambodian race have entirely disappeared in those districts. The different states have now their limits and sovereigns entirely independent of each other. Cambodia is, however, to a certain extent tributary to Siam, but in no degree to Annam; and I cannot understand how, at the present day, the French newspapers, even the ‘Moniteur de la Flotte,’ still less how our admiral in those seas, should habitually confound these two countries.

RELIGION OF THE THIÂMES.

The suppositions of the Abbé Jacquenet, which I have already quoted and to which I was disposed to give credence, seem to fall before the more accurate information which I have obtained concerning the religion of the Thiâmes or Isiampois. It must be allowed that the only vestiges of Judaism found among them are equally met with amongst Mahometans. They have priests, temples, practise circumcision, abstain from pork, and frequently pronounce, with the greatest veneration, the words Allah and Mahomet. They themselves declare that their present religion was brought to them from Malaisia—that priests still come to them from thence and visit them from time to time. I had this information from some Cambodians of Battambong, who, having been taken prisoners in the wars with the Cochin Chinese, passed eight years in Isiampa. One of them, a blind man, who appeared to me to be remarkable for good sense and judgment—an exceptional case in this country—seemed especially to merit confidence. These facts, and others which I collected regarding the religion of the Thiâmes, who until 1859, the time of their flight, inhabited Cambodia, lead me to infer that the Abbé Gagelin was in error. I was certainly told of two sects into which the tribe was divided; but the only distinguishing point between them was that one ate pork and the other did not.

The Thiâmes must formerly have occupied several important districts in Cambodia, principally on the banks of the tributary of the Me-kong. Thus, on the shores of Touli Sap, or the great lake, not far from Battambong, is a place called Campong Thiâme (shore of the Thiâmes). More to the south, near Campong Tchnam, the village where the custom-house of Cambodia is erected, is an island called Isle of Thiâmes. According to tradition, the whole banks of the river, as far as Penom-Peuh, were formerly inhabited by these people; and to this cause is to be attributed the complete absence of remains in these localities.

MOUNTAIN AND LOWLAND RACES.

The mountains of Dom-rêe, situated a little way to the north of Ongcor, are inhabited by the Khmer-dôme, a gentle and inoffensive race, although looked upon as savages by their brethren of the plain. These latter are the Somrais: they speak the Cambodian language, but with a different pronunciation. Beyond are the provinces, formerly belonging to Cambodia, but now Siamese, of Souréne, Song Kac, Con Khan, Nan Kong, and Ongcor-Eith or Korat.

According to popular belief, the king, if he should cross the great lake, is sure to die in the course of the year.

Whilst the present sovereign was prince he paid a visit to Ongcor, and seeing some of the Somrais, said, “These are my true subjects, and the stock from which my family sprang.” It seems that, in fact, the present dynasty did so.

The Cambodians give the following account of the introduction of Buddhism among them. Samanokodom left Ceylon and went to Thibet, where he was very well received; from thence he went among the savages, but, not meeting with encouragement from them, he took refuge in Cambodia, where he was welcomed by the people.

A circumstance worthy of remark is that the name of Rome is familiar to nearly all the Cambodians: they pronounce it Rouma, and place it at the western end of the world.

THE KINGS OF FIRE AND WATER.

There are among the Giaraïe two great nominal chiefs, called by the Annamites Hoa-Sa and Thorei-Sa, the king of fire and the king of water. The kings of Cambodia and Cochin China send to the former chief, every four or five years, a small tribute as a token of respectful homage, in consideration of the ancient power of which their ancestors have despoiled him. The king of fire, who appears to be the more important of the two, is called Eni (grandfather) by the savages, and the village where he resides bears the same name. When this “grandfather” dies, another is chosen, sometimes one of his sons, sometimes a stranger, the dignity not being hereditary. His extraordinary power is attributed, according to M. Fontaine, to Beurdao, an old sabre wrapped in rags, and having no other sheath. This sabre, say the Giaraïe, is centuries old, and contains a famous spirit (Giang), who must certainly have a good digestion to consume all the pigs, fowls, and other offerings brought to him. It is kept in a certain house, and whoever ventures to look at it dies suddenly, the sole exception being Eni himself, who has the privilege of seeing and handling it unharmed. Every inhabitant of the village has to act as sentinel in turn at this house.

Eni wages war on no one, and is assailed by none; consequently his attendants carry no arms when they go round to collect offerings. Most of the people give something, cloth, wax, pickaxes; anything is accepted.

I have written these few notes on Cambodia, after returning from a long hunting expedition, by the light of a torch, seated on my tiger-skin. On one side of me is the skin of an ape just stripped off; on the other, a box of insects waiting to be arranged and packed; and my employment has not been rendered easier by the sanguinary attacks of mosquitoes and leeches. My desire is, not to impose my opinions on any one, especially with regard to the wonderful architectural remains which I have visited, but simply to disclose the existence of these monuments, which are certainly the most gigantic, and also to my mind display a more perfect taste than any left to us by the ancients; and, moreover, to collect all the facts and traditions possible about these countries, hoping they may be useful to explorers of greater talent and fortune. For, I doubt not, others will follow in my steps, and, aided by their own government and by that of Siam, advantages denied to myself, will gather an abundant harvest where I have but cleared the ground.

LOVE OF NATURAL HISTORY.

But, after all, my principal object is natural history, and with that study I chiefly occupy myself. I have written, as I said before, in leisure hours, when resting from my fatigues, with a desire to implant in the breasts of others a love for the great works of Nature, and to benefit those who, in the quiet of their homes, delight to follow the poor traveller; who, often with the sole object of being useful to his fellow-men, or of discovering some insect, plant, or unknown animal, or verifying some point of latitude, crosses the ocean, and sacrifices family, comfort, health, and, too often, life itself.

THE AUTHOR’S OCCUPATIONS.

But it is pleasant to the man devoted to our good and beautiful mother, Nature, to think that his work, his fatigues, his troubles and dangers, are useful to others, if not to himself. Nature has her lovers, and those alone who have tasted them know the joys she gives. I candidly confess that I have never been more happy than when amidst this grand and beautiful tropical scenery, in the profound solitude of these dense forests, the stillness only broken by the song of birds and the cries of wild animals; and even if destined here to meet my death, I would not change my lot for all the joys and pleasures of the civilised world.

CHAPTER XV.

Khao Samroum—Province of Pechaburi or Phetxaburi.

JOURNEY TO BANGKOK.

After a sojourn of three weeks within the walls of Ongcor-Wat in order to make drawings and plans, I returned to Battambong. There I inquired for some means of transport to Bangkok, but, on different pretexts, I was detained more than two months before I could get away, in spite of the assistance of the viceroy. At last, on the 5th March, I set off with two waggons and two pair of powerful buffaloes, which had been taken wild, and trained up to the yoke, and were strong enough to sustain the fatigues of a journey at this season.

This time I carried along with me a complete menagerie; but of all my prisoners a pretty young chimpanzee, which, after slightly wounding it, we had succeeded in taking alive, was the most amusing. As long as I kept him in my room, and he could amuse himself with the numerous children and other visitors whom curiosity brought to look at him, he was very gentle; but as I was obliged on the journey to fasten him at the back of one of the waggons, he became frightened, and used every effort to break his chain, continually screaming, and trying to hide himself. After a time, however, he got accustomed to his position, and was quiet and docile as before.

Our guns on our shoulders, I and my young Chinese Phrai followed or walked before the waggons, occasionally finding some sport as we skirted the forest. As for my other servant, when we reached Pinhalú he begged to be allowed to return to Bangkok by our former route; so, not wishing to retain him against his will, I paid his expenses home, and wished him happiness.

Scarcely had we proceeded a mile when our drivers asked my permission to stop for supper, saying that afterwards we could set out again, and travel part of the night. I at once consented, knowing it to be a custom with the Cambodians, before departing on a long journey, to make their first halt not far from their village, that they may return home to shed a last tear, and partake of a farewell glass.

Before the oxen were even unyoked, the families of our drivers were all collected round me, the whole party talking at once, and begging me to take care of their relations, to save them from robbers, and give them medicine if they had a headache. They all then took their evening meal together, washing it down with some glasses of arrack which I gave them; after which we resumed our journey by a magnificent moonlight, but treading in a bed of dust which reached to our ankles, and raised a thick cloud round our waggons.

We encamped part of the night near a small piece of water, where some custom-house officers are stationed—three poor wretches—whose duty it is to arrest the depredators who lie in wait for the buffaloes and elephants coming down here from the lake and neighbouring districts. Those among us who had mats, spread them on the ground, and lay down; those who had none, piled up grass and leaves for beds.

For three days we travelled northward until we reached Ongcor-Borige, chief town of a province of the same name; but, surprised by darkness and a heavy storm, we were compelled to halt at the outskirts. The next morning, as we were leaving the place, we fell in with a caravan of thirty waggons conveying rice to Muang-Kabine, whither we were ourselves going; so my Cambodians fraternised with the party, all breakfasting together, and two hours afterwards we set off again at the head of this line of waggons.

There is here an immense plain, almost a desert, which in the best season takes six days to cross with elephants, and twelve with waggons. As for us, we set out on the 5th March, and only reached Muang-Kabine on the 28th; and oh! what we suffered from ennui, from heat, from attacks of mosquitoes, and want of water. In addition to these miseries my feet became like a jelly; and, when we arrived at our destination, I could scarcely drag myself along, or keep up with the slow but regular step of the buffaloes.

Some days before reaching Muang-Kabine we had to ford a small river, the Bang-Chang, and here we obtained some good water; but all the rest of the journey we had nothing but the water from the muddy pools, serving for baths and drinking-places to all the buffaloes of the caravan. When I drank it, or used it for cooking or tea, I purified it with a little alum, a better method than filtering. Every day some accident happened to our waggons, which was one cause of our being so long on the road.

On our arrival at Muang-Kabine we found great excitement prevailing on account of a recent discovery of gold-mines, which had attracted to the place a number of Laotians, Chinese, and Siamese. The mines of Battambong, being less rich, are not so much frequented. From Muang-Kabine I continued my route to Paknam, where I hired a boat to take me to Bangkok.

Drawn by M. Sabatier, from a sketch by M. Mouhot.

VIEW IN THE GULF OF SIAM.

The first day’s navigation was very tedious, the water being shallow, and the sand-banks in many places bare, but the day following we were able to lay aside our poles, and take to the oars. The stream takes a bend towards the south, and empties itself into the gulf a little above Petrin, a district which produces all the sugar of Siam, which is sold at Bangkok.

This canal connects the Menam and the Bang-Chang, which afterwards takes the name of Bang-Pakong; it is nearly sixty miles in length, and was the work of a clever Siamese general, the same who, twenty years ago, retook Battambong from the Cochin-Chinese. He is also noted for having constructed a fine road from Paknam to Ongcor-Borige, the place where the great inundations have their limit. This road I could not make use of, for at this season I should have found neither water nor grass for my oxen.

On the banks of the Bang-Pakong are several Cambodian villages, peopled by prisoners from Battambong; and along the canal, on either side, is a mixed, and for this country numerous population, of Malays, Laotians from the peninsula, and Laotians from Vien-Chan, a district on the banks of the Mekong, north-east of Korat, and now depopulated by frequent revolts.

Although overburdened with taxes, yet, to judge from their clean and comfortable dwellings, and a certain air of well-doing which reigns in these villages, the inhabitants must enjoy some degree of prosperity, especially since the impulse given to commerce by the Europeans settled in the capital.

The water was so thickly covered with weeds that our progress was much impeded, and we were three days in the canal; while, after May, it only takes the same time to go from Paknam to Bangkok.

ARRIVAL AT BANGKOK.

On the 4th April I returned to the capital, after fifteen months’ absence. During the greater part of this time I had never known the comfort of sleeping in a bed; and throughout my wanderings my only food had been rice or dried fish, and I had not once tasted good water. I was astonished at having preserved my health so well, particularly in the forests, where, often wet to the skin, and without a change of clothes, I have had to pass whole nights by a fire at the foot of a tree; yet I have not had a single attack of fever, and been always happy and in good spirits, especially when lucky enough to light upon some novelty. A new shell or insect filled me with a joy which ardent naturalists alone can understand; but they know well how little fatigues and privations of all kinds are cared for when set against the delight experienced in making one discovery after another, and in feeling that one is of some slight assistance to the votaries of science. It pleases me to think that my investigations into the archæology, entomology, and conchology of these lands may be of use to certain members of the great and generous English nation, who kindly encouraged the poor naturalist; whilst France, his own country, remained deaf to his voice.

Drawn by M. Bocourt, from a Sketch taken by M. Mouhot in the residence of the Prime Minister.

CEREMONY, ON A YOUNG SIAMESE COMING OF AGE, OF THE REMOVAL OF THE TUFT.

NEWS FROM EUROPE.

It was another great pleasure to me, after these fifteen months of travelling, during which very few letters from home had reached me, to find, on arriving at Bangkok, an enormous packet, telling me all the news of my distant family and country. It is indeed happiness, after so long a period of solitude, to read the lines traced by the beloved hands of an aged father, of a wife, of a brother. These joys are to be reckoned among the sweetest and purest of life.

We stopped in the centre of the town, at the entrance of a canal, whence there is a view over the busiest part of the Menam. It was almost night, and silence reigned around us; but when at daybreak I rose and saw the ships lying at anchor in the middle of the stream, while the roofs of the palaces and pagodas reflected the first rays of the sun, I thought that Bangkok had never looked so beautiful. However, life here would never suit me, and the mode of locomotion is wearisome after an active existence among the woods and in the chase.

PORT AND TOWN OF BANGKOK.

The river is constantly covered with thousands of boats of different sizes and forms, and the port of Bangkok is certainly one of the finest in the world, without excepting even the justly-renowned harbour of New York. Thousands of vessels can find safe anchorage here.

The town of Bangkok increases in population and extent every day, and there is no doubt but that it will become a very important capital: if France succeeds in taking possession of Annam, the commerce between the two countries will increase. It is scarcely a century old, and yet contains nearly half a million of inhabitants, amongst whom are many Christians. The flag of France floating in Cochin China would improve the position of the missions in all the surrounding countries; and I have reason to hope that Christianity will increase more rapidly than it has hitherto done.

Drawn by M. Sabatier, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

VIEW OF THE PORT AND DOCKS OF BANGKOK.

I had intended to visit the north-east of the country of Laos, crossing Dong Phya Phai (the forest of the King of Fire), and going on to Hieng Naie, on the frontiers of Cochin China; thence to the confines of Tonquin. I had planned to return afterwards by the Nékong to Cambodia, and then to pass through Cochin China, should the arms of France have been victorious there. However, the rainy season having commenced, the whole country was inundated, and the forests impassable; so it was necessary to wait four months before I could put my project in execution. I therefore packed up and sent off all my collections, and after remaining a few weeks in Bangkok I departed for Pechaburi, situated about 13° north lat., and to the north of the Malayan peninsula.

Drawn by M. Bocourt, from a Photograph.

PORTRAIT OF KHROM LUANG, ONE OF THE BROTHERS OF THE KING OF SIAM.

DEPARTURE FOR PECHABURI.

On the 8th May, at five o’clock in the evening, I sailed from Bangkok in a magnificent vessel ornamented with rich gilding and carved-work, belonging to Khrom Luang, one of the king’s brothers, who had kindly lent it to a valued friend of mine. There is no reason for concealing the name of this gentleman, who has proved himself a real friend in the truest meaning of the word; but I rather embrace the opportunity of testifying my affection and gratitude to M. Malherbes, who is a French merchant settled at Bangkok. He insisted on accompanying me for some distance, and the few days he passed with me were most agreeable ones.

The current was favourable, and, with our fifteen rowers, we proceeded rapidly up the stream. Our boat, adorned with all sorts of flags, red streamers, and peacocks’ tails, attracted the attention of all the European residents, whose houses are built along the banks of the stream, and who, from their verandahs, saluted us by cheering and waving their hands. Three days after leaving Bangkok we arrived at Pechaburi.

THE KING’S BROTHER.

The king was expected there the same day, to visit a palace which he has had built on the summit of a hill near the town. Khrom Luang, Kalahom (prime minister), and a large number of mandarins had already assembled. Seeing us arrive, the prince called to us from his pretty little house; and as soon as we had put on more suitable dresses we waited on him, and he entered into conversation with us till breakfast-time. He is an excellent man, and, of all the dignitaries of the country, the one who manifests least reserve and hauteur towards Europeans. In education, both this prince and the king are much advanced, considering the state of the country; but in their manners they have little more refinement than the people generally.

Drawn by M. Thérond, from a Photograph.

HALL OF AUDIENCE, PALACE OF BANGKOK.

PECHABURI.

Our first walk was to the hill on which the palace stands. Seen from a little distance, this building, of European construction, presents a very striking appearance; and the winding path which leads up to it has been admirably contrived amidst the volcanic rocks, basalt, and scoria which cover the surface of this ancient crater.

About twenty-five miles off, stretches from north to south a chain of mountains called Deng, and inhabited by the independent tribes of the primitive Kariens. Beyond these rise a number of still higher peaks. On the low ground are forests, palm-trees, and rice-fields, the whole rich and varied in colour. Lastly, to the south and east, and beyond another plain, lies the gulf, on whose waters, fading away into the horizon, a few scattered sails are just distinguishable.

It was one of those sights not to be soon forgotten, and the king has evinced his taste in the selection of such a spot for his palace. No beings can be less poetical or imaginative than the Indo-Chinese; their hearts never appear to expand to the genial rays of the sun; yet they must have some appreciation of this beautiful scenery, as they always fix upon the finest sites for their pagodas and palaces.

GROTTOES.

Quitting this hill, we proceeded to another, like it an extinct volcano or upheaved crater. Here are four or five grottoes, two of which are of surprising extent, and extremely picturesque. A painting which represented them faithfully would be supposed the offspring of a fertile imagination; no one would believe it to be natural. The rocks, long in a state of fusion, have taken, in cooling, those singular forms peculiar to scoria and basalt. Then, after the sea had retreated—for all these rocks have risen from the bottom of the water—owing to the moisture continually dripping through the damp soil, they have taken the richest and most harmonious colours. These grottoes, moreover, are adorned by such splendid stalactites, which, like columns, seem to sustain the walls and roofs, that one might fancy oneself present at one of the beautiful fairy scenes represented at Christmas in the London theatres.

If the taste of the architect of the king’s palace has failed in the design of its interior, here, at least, he has made the best of all the advantages offered to him by nature. A hammer touching the walls would have disfigured them; he had only to level the ground, and to make staircases to aid the descent into the grottoes, and enable the visitor to see them in all their beauty.

Drawn by M. Bocourt, from a Photograph.

GROTTO AT PECHABURI.

The largest and most picturesque of the caverns has been made into a temple. All along the sides are rows of idols, one of superior size, representing Buddha asleep, being gilt.

We came down from the mountain just at the moment of the king’s arrival. Although his stay was not intended to exceed two days, he was preceded by a hundred slaves carrying an immense number of coffers, boxes, baskets, &c. A disorderly troop of soldiers marched both in front and behind, dressed in the most singular and ridiculous costumes imaginable. The emperor Soulouque himself would have laughed, for certainly his old guard must have made a better appearance than that of his East Indian brother. Nothing could give a better idea of this set of tatterdemalions than the dressed-up monkeys which dance upon the organs of the little Savoyards. Their apparel of coarse red cloth upper garments, which left a part of the body exposed, in every case either too large or too small, too long or too short, with white shakos, and pantaloons of various colours; as for shoes, they were a luxury enjoyed by few.

A few chiefs, whose appearance was quite in keeping with that of their men, were on horseback, leading this band of warriors, whilst the king, attended by slaves, slowly advanced in a little open carriage drawn by a pony.

PLAGUE OF MOSQUITOES.

I visited several hills detached from the great chain Khao Deng, which is only a few miles off. During my stay here it has rained continually, and I have had to wage war with savage foes, from whom I never before suffered so much. Nothing avails against them; they let themselves be massacred, with a courage worthy of nobler beings. I speak of mosquitoes. Thousands of these cruel insects suck our blood night and day. My body, face, and hands are covered with wounds and blisters. I would rather have to deal with the wild beasts of the forest. At times I howl with pain and exasperation. No one can imagine the frightful plague of these little demons, to whom Dante has omitted to assign a place in his infernal regions. I scarcely dare to bathe, for my body is covered before I can get into the water. The natural philosopher who held up these little animals as examples of parental love was certainly not tormented as I have been.

THE LAOTIANS.

About ten miles from Pechaburi I found several villages inhabited by Laotians, who have been settled there for two or three generations. Their costume consists of a long shirt and black pantaloons, like those of the Cochin Chinese, and they have the Siamese tuft of hair. The women wear the same head-dress as the Cambodians. Their songs, and their way of drinking through bamboo pipes, from large jars, a fermented liquor made from rice and herbs, recalled to my mind what I had seen among the savage Stiêns. I also found among them the same baskets and instruments used by those tribes.

The young girls are fair compared with the Siamese, and their features are pretty; but they soon grow coarse, and lose all their charms. Isolated in their villages, these Laotians have preserved their language and customs, and they never mingle with the Siamese.

Drawn by M. Bocourt, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

VIEW OF THE MOUNTAINS OF PECHABURI.

CHAPTER XVI.

Return to Bangkok—Preparations for a new Expedition to the North-East of Laos—Phrabat—Pakpriau—Saohaïe.

After a sojourn of four months among the mountains of Pechaburi, known by the names of Makaon Khao, Panam Knot, Khao Tamoune, and Khao Samroun, the last two of which are 1700 and 1900 feet above the level of the sea, I returned to Bangkok to make the necessary preparations for my new expedition to the north-east of Laos, my intended route being to the basin of the Mekong, towards the frontier of China. I had an additional motive for coming here again, namely, to get cured of that annoying complaint the itch, which I caught at Pechaburi; how, I really cannot guess, for, in spite of the mosquitoes, I bathed regularly two or three times a day; but I hope that a short course of rubbing with sulphur ointment, and proper baths, will effect a cure. This, one of the ills of a traveller’s life, is, however, trifling in comparison with the misfortune of which I have just heard. The steamer ‘Sir James Brooke,’ in which Messrs. Gray, Hamilton, and Co., of Singapore, had sent off all my last boxes of collections, has foundered at the entrance of that port. And so all my poor insects, which have cost me so much care and pains for many months, are lost for ever—some of them rare and valuable specimens, which, alas! I shall probably never be able to replace.

Drawn by M. Thérond, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

PAVILION CONTAINING THE ASHES OF THE LATE KING OF SIAM IN THE GARDENS ATTACHED TO THE PALACE AT BANGKOK.

Two years ago, about this same season, I was nearly in the same place where I now am, on the Menam, some leagues north of Bangkok. The last floating shops, with their almost exclusively Chinese population, are beginning to disappear, and the banks of the river are assuming a monotonous aspect, although from time to time, through the brushwood and foliage of the bananas, the roof of some hut is visible, or the white walls of a pagoda, prettily situated, and surrounded by the modest dwellings of the priests.

FÊTES AT BANGKOK.

It is the season of fêtes; the stream is covered with large and handsome boats, decorated with gilding and carved work, with true oriental gorgeousness; and among them the heavy barges of the rice-merchants, or the small craft of poor women going to the market with bananas and betel-nuts. It is only on festivals, and a few other occasions, that the king, princes, and mandarins display their riches and importance. The king was on his way to a pagoda to offer presents, followed by his whole court. Each of the mandarins was in a splendid barge, the rowers being dressed in the most brilliant colours. A number of pirogues were filled with soldiers in red coats. The royal barge was easily to be distinguished from the rest, by the throne surmounted by a canopy terminating in a pinnacle, and by the immense quantity of carving and gilding about it. At the king’s feet were some of his children, and he waved his hand to every European whom he saw.

Drawn by M. Catenacci, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

CLOCK TOWER AT BANGKOK.

All the ships at anchor were adorned with flags, and every floating house had an altar covered with various objects, and with odoriferous woods burning on them. Amidst all these fine barges, one was remarkable for its simplicity, and the good taste with which the rowers were dressed,—a uniform of white cloth, with red cuffs and collar. It belonged to Khrom Luang, the king’s brother, a good, courteous, and intelligent prince, ever ready to protect Europeans to the utmost of his power; in a word, a gentleman.

Drawn by M. Sabatier, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

THE BAR OF THE RIVER MENAM.

Most of the dignitaries, generally fat men, were lying lazily on triangular embroidered cushions, in their splendid boats, upon a kind of dais, surrounded by officials, women, and children, kneeling, or lying flat, in readiness to hold out the golden urns which serve them for spittoons, or their betel-boxes or teapots, all made of the same precious metals by the goldsmiths of Laos and Ligor. The boats have generally from eighty to a hundred rowers, with the head and greater part of the body bare, but wearing a large white scarf round the loins, and a brilliant red langouti; they all raise their paddles simultaneously, and strike the water in regular time, while at the prow and stern are stationed two other slaves, one dexterously managing a long oar which serves as a rudder, the other on the watch to prevent a collision with any other boat. The rowers continually raise a wild, exulting cry, “Ouah! ouah!” while the steersman utters a louder and more prolonged one, which rises above the voices of the rest. Many boats also are to be seen crowded with women, musicians, or parties carrying presents. The coup d’œil is certainly charming.

Drawn by M. Sabatier, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

SCENE ON THE RIVER MENAM, NEAR BANGKOK.

From time to time appears, amidst the picturesque assemblage, the boat of some European, always to be recognised by his “chimney-pot” or silk hat.

Drawn by M. Sabatier, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

A PRIEST IN HIS BOAT.

All these scenes passed rapidly away, and, before long, I could only hear the distant sounds of the music, and see a few scattered boats adorned with streamers, passing up or down the river, being often skilfully managed by girls and very young children, who amused themselves by racing. It is evident, from the careless gaiety of these people, that they do not suffer the frightful poverty but too often met with in our large cities. When his appetite is satisfied—and, for that, all that is necessary is a bowl of rice, and some fish seasoned with capsicum—the Siamese is lively and happy, and sleeps without care for the morrow; he is, in fact, a kind of Lazzaroni.

Drawn by M. Thérond, from a Photograph.

THE NEW PALACE OF THE KING OF SIAM, BANGKOK.

PAIN OF SEPARATION.

My friend M. Malherbes accompanied me for a few hours’ sail from Bangkok, and then we parted with a warm clasp of the hand, and, I confess, not without tears in both our eyes, trusting that destiny might reunite us here or elsewhere. My friend’s light boat glided rapidly down the stream; in a few minutes he was out of sight, and I was again left alone—for how long a period being quite uncertain. I rarely allow myself to dwell on the subject; but separations are painful to the traveller who has left behind him all he holds most dear in the world,—family, country, home, and friends,—to visit countries inhospitable, and in many ways dangerous, without comfort or companionship. It is equally painful to think that, during long months, his impatient family are living in anxiety, and forming a thousand conjectures as to his fate. I know what awaits me, having been warned both by the missionaries and the natives. During the last twenty-five years, only one man, as far as I know, a French priest, has penetrated to the heart of Laos, and he only returned to die in the arms of the good and venerable prelate, Mgr. Pallegoix. I know the discomfort, fatigue, and tribulations of all sorts to which I am again about to expose myself; the want of roads, the difficulty of finding means of conveyance, and the risk of paying for the slightest imprudence by a dangerous or even fatal illness. And how can one be prudent when compelled to submit to the hardest life of the forest, to suffer many privations, and to brave all inclemencies of the weather? Nevertheless, my destiny urges me on, and I trust in the kind Providence which has watched over me until now.

NEWS FROM EUROPE.

Only a few hours before my departure from Bangkok, the mail arrived, and I received news of my dearly loved family, which consoled me for the misfortune I sustained in the loss of my collections. Thanks, thanks, my good friends, for the pleasure you gave me before starting, by the expression of your warm and constant affection; I shall not forget you in my solitude.

I shall continue during my journey to take notes of all my little adventures, very rare, alas! for I am not one of those travellers who kill a tiger and an elephant at one shot; the smallest unknown shell or insect is more interesting to me; however, on occasion, I do not object to a meeting with the terrible inhabitants of the forest, and more than one have known the range of my rifle and the calibre of my balls.

Every evening, enclosed in my mosquito curtains, either in some cabin or at the foot of a tree, in the jungle or by the river bank, I shall talk to you, my friends; you shall be the companions of my journey, and it will be my greatest pleasure to confide to you my impressions and thoughts.

Drawn by M. Rousseau, from a Photograph.

KUN MOTTE, A SIAMESE NOBLE AND SAVANT.

KINDNESS OF M. MALHERBES.

Scarcely had my friend M. Malherbes left me, when I discovered, in the bottom of my boat, a box, which he had contrived to place, unknown to me, among my packages; a fresh proof of his kindness, for he had already sent me three cases when I was at Pechaburi. I found it to contain some dozens of Bordeaux, as much cognac, boxes of sardines, biscuits, and a number of other things, which would recall to me, were I ever likely to forget it, the true and considerate friendship of my countrymen, so valuable to one far from home.

Drawn by M. Catenacci, from a Photograph.

BUILDING FOR THE INCREMATION OF THE QUEEN OF SIAM.

I also carry with me most agreeable souvenirs of another excellent friend, Dr. Campbell, of the Royal Navy, attached to the British Consulate; and am very grateful to Sir R. Schomberg, the English Consul, who has shown me much attention and sympathy. Here let me, likewise, express my obligations to Mgr. Pallegoix, to the American Protestant missionaries, and, indeed, to most of the Consuls and resident strangers, who have all shown me kindness; and I would particularly mention the name of M. D’Istria, the new French Consul.

Let me say, in passing, that I am cured of the itch, which I suspect my servants had caught in wandering about the villages, and had communicated to me, in spite of my scrupulous cleanliness.

THE TRAVELLER’S SERVANTS.

The banks of the Menam are covered with splendid crops, the periodical inundations rendering them as fertile as those of the Nile. I have four Laotian rowers; one of them was in my service for a month two years ago, and he now begged to be allowed to attend me throughout my journey, telling me I should find him very useful. After a little hesitation I have engaged him, so now I shall have three servants. My good and faithful Phrai has never left me, luckily for me, for I should find it difficult to replace him; and, besides, I am attached to the lad, who is active, intelligent, industrious, and devoted to me.

THE CHINESE “DENG.”

Drawn by M. Bocourt, from a Photograph.

SAYA VISAT, HEAD OF THE CHRISTIANS AT BANGKOK.

DENG’S DRAUGHT.

This attendant of mine has one little defect, but who has not in this world? He now and then takes a drop too much, and I have often found him sucking, through a bamboo cane, the spirit of wine from one of the bottles in which I preserve my reptiles, or laying under contribution the cognac presented to me by my friend Malherbes. A few days ago he was seized with this devouring thirst, and, profiting by my absence for only a few minutes, he opened my chest, and hastily laid hands on the first bottle which presented itself, great part of the contents of which he swallowed at one gulp. I came back just as he was wiping his mouth with his shirt-sleeve, and it would be impossible to describe his contortions and grimaces as he screamed out that he was poisoned.

He had had the bad luck to get hold of my bottle of ink; his face was smeared with it, and his shirt pretty well sprinkled. It was a famous lesson for him, and I think it will be some time before he tries my stores again.

The wages I give at present are ten ticals each per month, which, allowing for exchange, amounts to nearly forty francs per month. This in any other country would be good pay; but here I should find great difficulty in finding any other men to accompany me, were I to offer them a tical a day.

I soon reached the mountains of Nephaburi and Phrabat, with their pure clear atmosphere, the weather being pleasant and a fresh wind blowing. All nature looks smiling, and I feel exhilarated and happy. At Bangkok I felt stifled and oppressed. That town does not awaken my sympathies. Here my heart dilates, and I could fancy I had grown ever so much taller since I arrived. Here I can breathe, I live, amid these beautiful hills and woods; in cities I seem to suffocate, and the sight of so great a number of human beings annoys me.

COMMENCEMENT OF RICE-HARVEST.

I stopped yesterday at Ayuthia to see Father Larmandy, and, after a night passed beneath his hospitable roof, proceeded on my way towards Pakpriau. The whole day after our departure we passed by fields and rice-plantations on both sides of the river. All the country, till within two miles of Ayuthia, is inundated; there, only, the ground begins to rise a foot above the waters. Already, in several places they are beginning to cut the rice, and in a fortnight the whole population, male and female, will be busy with the harvest.

At present most of them are availing themselves of the short time left them to enjoy the “far niente,” or visit the pagodas with offerings to the priests, which consist principally of fruit and yellow cloth; the latter intended to afford a supply of raiment for them while they are travelling; as, during several months of the dry season, they are allowed to quit their monasteries and go where they like.

Drawn by M. Clerget, from a Photograph.

PORTICO OF THE AUDIENCE HALL AT BANGKOK.

VISIT TO KHUN PAKDY.

October 20.—Having reached Thama Triestard at night, we slept at the entrance of the village, and early this morning I stopped my boat before the house of Khun Pakdy, the kind chief who, two years ago, accompanied me to Phrabat. The worthy man was not a little surprised to see me, and could scarcely believe his eyes, for he had heard that I had died at Muang-Kabuic. We soon renewed our acquaintance, and I was pleased to find that his regard for me, especially when stimulated by a glass of cognac, had survived the lapse of time. Poor Khun Pakdy! if I were King of Siam—which Heaven forbid!—I would name you Prince of Phrabat, or rather resign my throne to you.

He gave immediate orders to prepare breakfast for me; then, on finding that I was going to Korat, he remembered that he had promised again to be my companion if I brought him a gun from Bangkok. “If it were only worth three ticals it would do,” said he; but seeing only the same percussion guns, “You have not brought me one,” he observed; “but never mind, I will go with you all the same.” It was only when I told him that I should make but a very short stay at Korat, and intended to proceed farther on into places where he would doubtless have to “tighten his belt,” and that I did not wish him to lose his comfortable mandarin’s embonpoint, that I succeeded in checking his enthusiastic devotion. But when he heard that we should be obliged to sleep among the woods by the light of the stars, he turned the conversation.

As soon as we had breakfasted I returned to my boat to escape his rather too demonstrative conversation, and the noisy eulogiums he continued to pour upon me.

From hence are visible the beautiful chain of hills which extend from Nephaburi, and which, I conjecture, join those of Birmanie and the Deng mountains, which do not appear more than fifteen miles off, and awaken a host of agreeable recollections. I feel sure the fine season has arrived; the air is pure, the sky serene, and the sun shines almost constantly.

SAOHAIE.

Saohaïe, October 22.—I have not yet reached Pakpriau, and already I have met with, and begun to suffer from, the annoyances inevitable in a country like this, inundated during a great part of the year, and in which the means of travelling are so difficult to obtain, particularly when one is burdened with an extra, though indispensable, quantity of luggage.