The news of my arrival soon reached the ears of the king, and two pages were sent to request me to wait at once on his Majesty; but my luggage was not yet forthcoming, and I objected that I could not visit him in my travelling-dress. “Oh, that is nothing; the king has no dress at all, and he will be delighted to see you,” was the reply. Scarcely had my waggons arrived when a chamberlain, followed by a page, came to say that the king was waiting for me. I went, therefore, to the palace, before the entrance of which were a dozen dismounted cannon, in whose mouths the sparrows had built their nests. Further off a crowd of vultures were devouring the remains from the table of the king and his courtiers. I was ushered into the audience-chamber, which communicates with his Majesty’s private apartments, and is paved with large Chinese tiles, the walls being whitened with chalk. A number of Siamese pages, fine young men from twenty-five to thirty years of age, uniformly dressed in a langouti of red silk, were standing in groups, or seated in Oriental fashion, waiting the king’s appearance. A few minutes after my arrival he entered, and every forehead was bowed to the ground. I rose, and he advanced towards me, with an air at once easy and distinguished.
Drawn, by M. Janet Lange, from a Photograph.
PORTRAIT OF THE SECOND KING OF CAMBODIA
(NOW THE FIRST KING).
“Sire,” said I, “I had the honour of an interview with the first King at Komput, and of being favoured by him with permission to visit Udong.”
“Are you French or English?” he asked, examining me attentively.
“I am a Frenchman, Sire.”
“You are not a merchant; why do you come to Cambodia?”
“Sire, I came through Siam to see your country, and to hunt here, if allowed.”
“Very good. You have been in Siam? I also have visited Bangkok. Come and see me again.”
“As often as my presence will be agreeable to your Majesty.”
After a few more minutes’ conversation, the king held out to me his hand, which I kissed, and I then retired; but had not proceeded far when several officials ran after me, exclaiming, “The king is enchanted with you; he wants to see you often.”
The following day I devoted to making an investigation of the city. The houses are built of bamboos or planks, and the market-place, occupied by the Chinese, is as dirty as all the others of which I have made mention. The longest street, or rather the only one, is a mile in length; and in the environs reside the agriculturists, as well as the mandarins and other Government officers. The entire population numbers about 12,000 souls.
The many Cambodians living in the immediate vicinity, and, still more, the number of chiefs who resort to Udong for business or pleasure, or are passing through it on their way from one province to another, contribute to give animation to this capital. Every moment I met mandarins, either borne in litters or on foot, followed by a crowd of slaves carrying various articles; some, yellow or scarlet parasols, more or less large according to the rank of the person; others, boxes with betel. I also encountered horsemen, mounted on pretty, spirited little animals, richly caparisoned and covered with bells, ambling along, while a troop of attendants, covered with dust and sweltering with heat, ran after them. Light carts, drawn by a couple of small oxen, trotting along rapidly and noisily, were here and there to be seen. Occasionally a large elephant passed majestically by. On this side were numerous processions to the pagoda, marching to the sound of music; there, again, was a band of ecclesiastics in single file, seeking alms, draped in their yellow cloaks, and with the holy vessels on their backs.
The third day after my arrival at Udong the court of justice was noisily opened at eight o’clock in the morning; and the loud voices of the judges and advocates were still resounding through the hall at five in the afternoon, having never for an instant been hushed, when suddenly two pages came out of the court of the palace, crying out, “The King!” A thunderbolt falling in the hall could not have caused a greater sensation than this announcement; there was a general hurryscurry; judges, advocates, accused, and spectators fled pell-mell, taking refuge in the corners with their faces to the ground. I laughed to see the legal functionaries, and the Chinamen with their long queues, rushing against each other in their eagerness to escape at the king’s approach. His Majesty, who was on foot, now appeared at the entrance, followed by his pages. He waved his hand and called me to him. Immediately two attendants brought chairs and placed them on the grass opposite to each other. The king offered me one, and then entered into conversation with me, while the whole escort and every one near us remained prostrate on the ground; as far as the eye could reach, not a soul was standing.
“How do you like my city?”[14] asked the king.
“Sire, it is splendid, and presents an appearance such as I have never seen elsewhere.”
“All the palaces and pagodas which you see from here have been built in one year since my return from Siam: in another year all will be finished. Formerly Cambodia was very extensive; but the Annamites have deprived us of many provinces.”
“Sire, the time has arrived for you to retake them. The French are assailing them on one side; do you attack them on the other.” His Majesty did not reply, but offered me a cigar, and inquired my age.
“I am twenty-three,” he said to me. “I recognise you; you were at Siam with M. de Montigny.”
“No, sire; your Majesty is mistaken. I have only been in Siam a twelvemonth.”
I then sent for an elegant small Minié rifle, which the king’s officers had examined in the morning, and presented it to him, asking him if he would deign to accept it. He desired me to load it, which I did. “It is done, sire,” said I.
“Is it possible? Fire, then.”
He chose for a target a post some way off, and pointed out the place he wished me to hit. I fired, and immediately his Majesty and the pages went to satisfy themselves that the aim was true.
“When do you wish to leave Udong?”
“Sire, I should like to depart, the day after to-morrow, for Pinhalu and the other provinces.”
“If you could remain one day longer, it would give me pleasure. To-morrow you will dine with me; on the day after I will take you to see the town of the first king, and in the evening we will have a play.”
The play, I thought, will be curious, and therefore I decided to remain; and, after I had thanked the king for his kindness to me, he shook hands with me, and we separated. Evidently I was in high favour. On the following morning messengers came from the king to place horses at my disposal, should I be inclined to ride; but the heat was too great. About four in the afternoon he again did me the honour of sending a horse to bring me to the palace. I wore a white coat, vest, and trousers; a helmet made of cork,[15] after the fashion of the ancient Romans, and covered with white muslin, completed my singular toilet.
I was introduced by the chamberlain into one of the king’s private apartments, a pretty room furnished in the European style. His Majesty sat waiting for me, smoking, near a table covered with refreshments; and as soon as I entered he rose, and holding out his hand, and smiling, he begged me to sit down and begin my repast. I perceived that he intended, after the manner of the country, to do me honour by being present at the meal without partaking of it himself.
After introducing me, with much courtesy and friendliness, to his brother, a young man of fifteen, who was kneeling by his side, the king said, “I have had this fowl and duck cooked in the European fashion; tell me if they are to your taste.”
All had been really exceedingly well prepared; the fish, particularly, was capital.
“Good brandy,” said the king, in English (the only words he knew in that language), as he pointed to a bottle of cognac. “Drink,” continued he.
The attendants then placed before me jellies and exquisitely preserved fruits, bananas, and excellent mangoes. Afterwards tea was served, of which the king also partook, having first offered me a Manilla cigar. He then wound up a musical-box, and put it on the table. The first air gave me great pleasure, all the more because I was unprepared to hear it in a royal palace. It was the Marseillaise. The king took my start and look of astonishment for admiration. “Do you know that air?” he asked.
“Yes, sire.”
Then followed another scarcely less familiar, the air of the Girondins, Mourir pour la patrie.
“Do you also know that?”
As an answer, I accompanied the air with the words. “Does your Majesty like this air?” I inquired.
“Not so well as the first.”
“Your Majesty is right; most European sovereigns have the same taste.”
“Napoleon, for instance?”
“Napoleon, particularly.”
My Annamite was with me, and filled the office of interpreter, with a perfect tact which pleased the king. The young prince now asked permission to retire, and saluted his brother by bowing to the earth and raising his clasped hands above his head. The king desired him to return the next morning, and accompany us to the palace of the first king; and the prince, passing out into the courtyard, was lifted astride on the shoulders of an attendant, and carried to his palace.
His Majesty then displayed to me his European furniture, mahogany tables covered with china vases and other ornaments of a commonplace description; above all, he pointed out, as worthy of notice, two old looking-glasses in gilt frames, a sofa, and various similar articles. “I am but beginning,” said he; “in a few years my palace will be beautiful.”
He afterwards took me into his garden, where were some rare and curious plants, and a miniature artificial rock. Then, on returning to the sitting-room, he conducted me past the inmates of his seraglio, at least a hundred in number, whom curiosity had brought out to gaze at the stranger.
“You are the first foreigner who has ever been admitted here,” he said to me. “In Cambodia, as in Siam, no one but the people on duty can penetrate into the king’s private apartments.”
I thanked him for the honour he had done me, and took leave. He told me to ask for all I wanted, and he would refuse no request. The only thing I desired was to have my journey facilitated; and to this end I begged him to furnish me with letters to the chiefs of the different provinces of his dominions, and one or two elephants. This he promised to do. This young sovereign is the presumptive heir to the crown. His father, who owes his throne to the King of Siam, is not permitted by that monarch to leave his own country; and as a guarantee of his fidelity, one or two of his sons have always been retained as hostages at the Siamese Court. It was thus that the young king passed many years at Bangkok, where, doubtless, he learnt the art of government, and whence he was not allowed to return to his own kingdom till it was apparent that he would prove a submissive and obedient tributary. Another brother, a prince of twenty-one, paid me a visit at night, unknown to his relatives, hoping to receive a present. He was very childish for his age, and wanted everything he saw; he was, however, gentle and amiable, and of superior manners.
The next morning the king sent for me at ten o’clock. I found him seated on a sofa in the reception-hall, giving orders to his pages about the order of march to be observed in going and returning. When all was ready, he entered a sedan-chair or palanquin magnificently carved and painted. His head and feet were bare, his hair cut in the Siamese fashion, and he wore a superb langouti of yellow silk, with a girdle of the same material, but of a lighter shade. The palanquin was borne on the shoulders of four attendants, and another held up an enormous red parasol with a gilt handle upwards of twelve feet long. The youngest prince, carrying the king’s sabre, walked beside him; I was on the other side, and his Majesty often turned towards me to point out any striking object, and trying to read in my face what I thought of the effect produced on the people by his appearance. He sat in a careless attitude, one leg hanging out of the palanquin, and with his elbow resting on the morocco cushions.
At the approach of the procession all the collected population bowed themselves to the ground. In front marched three lictors, bearing in their hands bundles of rattans (the emblems of power); behind the palanquin came, two and two, the chamberlains and pages, numbering more than thirty, all dressed in red, and bearing on their shoulders pikes, sabres, or guns in cases. In this order we arrived at the outer entrance of the palace of the first king.
His Majesty here descended from his palanquin, and, still in the same order of march, we proceeded along an avenue about half a mile in length, planted with young trees, and bounded on either side by a wooden fence. The ground slopes gradually from hence, and is laid out in gardens and lawns, encircling which are a hundred little cottages with walls of clay and thatched roofs. “All these houses are inhabited by my father’s wives; there is not a man in them,” said the young king.
Farther on was a lake surrounded with rich and luxuriant verdure. On its banks, buried in foliage, which is reflected in the clear water, stands the royal residence, part of which is of bamboo, the rest being whitewashed. We went through several apartments, in which poor Annamite women were weaving silk, and, after passing in front of the treasury and the king’s magazines, finally reached a vast hall which, here, is peculiarly called the palace. The interior does not come up to what might be expected from an outside view. It is stocked like a bazaar with glass bottles, vases filled with artificial flowers and covered by glass shades, cushions of all colours and sizes, boxes, slippers, old sofas, looking-glasses, washing-stands, and a variety of European articles, piled upon tables and shelves, and on the floor. As the young king was to spend the day at the palace, he now dismissed me, appointing one of his chamberlains to escort me home.
A little after sunset the people collected in crowds to witness the play which was to be performed on the king’s return, expected at seven o’clock. The multitude was so dense that not a single inch of ground in the courtyard was unoccupied, and the walls, even, were all covered. At these festivities the people are apparently permitted to depart from the customary posture of humility, for every one was seated in Oriental fashion. The play was simply a phantasmagoria tolerably well managed, and accompanied by music more noisy than harmonious; but which appeared perfectly to satisfy the public.
CHAPTER VIII.
Departure from Udong—Train of Elephants—Pinhalu—Kind treatment by the Missionaries—The Great Lake of Cambodia—Touli Sap—The Thiâmes—Speculations as to their Origin—Ancient Kingdom of Tsiampa—Israelite Traditions of the Thiâmes or Tsiampois.
On the 2nd July, having taken our usual morning repast of rice, we were ready to set off, and were only waiting for the waggons and elephants promised me by the king. They were not long in arriving, and we passed through the city amidst an immense crowd of people who had come from all quarters to witness our departure. We were mounted on our elephants, and escorted by several of the royal pages as far as the road to Pinhalú; all the population prostrating themselves as before the king, doubtless because he had paid me such marked attention.
We proceeded, at the rate of about three miles an hour, on a good road, which was in some places raised more than ten feet above the level of the wooded but marshy plain which extends to the great arm of the Mekon.
Now and then we crossed handsome bridges built of stone or wood, which certainly give a more favourable idea of the state of engineering in Cambodia than in Siam; for, even at Bangkok, the streams and canals are spanned by thin, narrow planks, or by trunks of trees thrown across by the inhabitants, and not by the authorities.
About two kilometres from Udong is a sort of rampart formed of earth, in the form of a horseshoe. It environs a portion of the town, and was intended to defend the place in case of an invasion by the Annamites, an event which is yearly looked for at the time of the floods.
We met many pedestrians laden, probably, with provisions for the market. The road is bordered with miserable bamboo huts, like poultry-houses, raised on piles, which serve for dwellings for the unlucky Thiâmes, who were transported here by the king, a twelvemonth since, from the plains to the east of the Mekon, as a punishment for an attempted revolt which they were accused of.
We arrived early the same day at Pinhalú, a village of some size, situated on the right bank of the stream, many of the inhabitants of which are the descendants of Portuguese and Annamite refugees. It is the residence of a French bishop, Monsignor Miche, Vicar-apostolic of the mission to Cambodia and Laos. He was absent, but I found three good and benevolent missionaries, who begged me to wait for his return, and received me in that cordial and affectionate manner which is so pleasant to meet with in a strange land, and especially from fellow-countrymen. M. Fontaine, the eldest of the three, though still in the prime of life, had been a missionary for nearly twenty years. He was formerly attached to the mission at Cochin China, and I had seen him on my visit to Bangkok, where he remained some time before going to Cambodia. He was then feeble and suffering, but I was glad now to find him stronger and full of animation. I felt a true respect for this worthy man; may there be many labourers in the same vocation resembling him!
The second priest, M. Arnoux, was not only a fellow-countryman, but our birthplaces were only distant from each other a few leagues. He was born in the department of Russey, and I in that of Montbéliard (Doubs), so that I had two reasons for being drawn towards him. He belongs to the Cochin China mission, and had come from among the savage Stiêns to renew his stock of provisions; but, having been attacked by dysentery, owing to the fatigue of the journey, he had been unable to return. These two valiant soldiers of the Church, with good and pure hearts, iron wills, and the energy and courage of heroes, or, rather, of martyrs, had formerly lived together, at a distant station, among the savage Benous, and had suffered there terribly from fevers, dysentery, scurvy, and other diseases. Among the fifty Annamites who were with them in that refuge of Christianity, there frequently was not a single one able to cook their rice, all being in the hospital. On hearing these brave and worthy sons of our dear country describe their past and present misery, I was sometimes as much amused as affected, with so much liveliness was the narration given; but it is the characteristic of our dauntless nation that her sons suffer and die gaily, and with smiles on their lips.
Four days flew by rapidly in the society of these friends, by whom I was detained till the return of their bishop, whose acquaintance I much desired to make. I knew that I should find in him a man of very superior character; but I did not expect to find in this eminent missionary a simplicity and humility equal to his talents and strength of mind. Monsignor Miche is short and slight; but under his frail exterior exist extraordinary energy and endurance. The annals of the Cochin China mission, as well as of that to Cambodia, must contain many a page filled with the noble actions of this distinguished pioneer of Christianity, and with the persecution and captivity he has suffered. When a simple missionary, he and one of his companions were imprisoned and beaten with rods—a fearful punishment, which, at each blow, cut open the flesh and made the blood flow. They were then conducted to their cells, in order that the torture might be repeated on the following day, when their wounds were beginning to heal, for the Annamites are skilled in the refinements of cruelty.
“The suffering is dreadful,” said his companion to M. Miche; “I do not believe I can bear it a second time.”
“Be easy,” he replied; “I will ask to receive your blows for you.” He did request this, and actually did receive them.
Here the missionary is everything to the poor Christians, physician to the body as well as the soul; and every day he passes hours in listening to their disputes, and acting as peacemaker.
The rule here is, that if a man cannot pay a debt, he and his family become the slaves of the creditor. “You are my slave,” said a person to a young girl whom he met.
“How so? I do not know you.”
“Your father owed me money, and never paid me.”
“I never knew my father; he died before I was born.”
“Will you go to law?”
“Yes.”
The man then consulted some mandarin, gave him a present, promised him others, won his cause, and the unfortunate girl, having no means to do the same, became a slave. It is the story of Appius and Virginia reproduced in the East. Corruption and barbarity are general in Cambodia.
I now determined to visit the savage tribes living to the east of the great river, 104° east long. from Paris, and of whom I had heard M. Arnoux speak; he had promised me a welcome from M. Guilloux, the missionary there. I sent Niou back to Udong to ask the king for the letter he had promised. He soon returned with it in due form, and on the 22nd July I quitted Pinhalú in a small boat with two rowers, which I hired as far as Pemptiélan, situated on the Mekon river, about forty miles to the north of Pénom-Peuh.
Ever since I had been in Cambodia my servants had been in a state of alarm, and it reached its height when I informed them that we were about to set out on an expedition to the savage tribes. Cambodia is much dreaded by the Siamese: and the mountains, and, still more, the forests, inhabited by the Stiêns, have a reputation for unhealthiness, among both Cambodians and Annamites, equal to that which, in France, is enjoyed by Cayenne, whither condemned political offenders and malefactors from the galleys are sent to die. I doubt very much if I could have met with any other men who would have remained with me.
On descending the great arm of the Mekon, which is here 1200 metres wide, I was astonished at seeing the current running from south to north instead of following the course of the river into which it falls. The banks of this river are peopled by the same race of Thiâmes whom I saw on my route from Udong to Pinhalú.
During more than five months of the year, the great lake of Cambodia, Touli-Sap, covers an immense space of ground: after that period there is a diminution in depth owing to the great evaporation, but its width remains nearly unaltered. Although its waters increase in volume during the rainy season, these are not swelled by the streams from the mountains on its western boundary, but by the strength of the current from the Mekon which pours into it its overflow.
As for the Malays, or Thiâmes, as the Cambodians call them, I made endeavours to investigate their origin, and also the traces which I supposed to exist in Cambodia of Israelite migrations. Monsignor Miche told me that he had never met with any Jews in the country, but that he had found, in one of the sacred books of the Cambodians, the judgment of Solomon exactly recorded, and attributed to one of their kings who had become a god, after having been, according to their ideas of metempsychosis, an ape, an elephant, &c.
The Thiâmes are the same as the ancient Tsiampois; but these Tsiampois, whence came they? What is the origin of this strange people, whom the conquests of the Annamites drove back, doubtless from the south of Cochin China to Cambodia, but who form alliances with neither of the races whose country they share, and who preserve their own language, manners, and religion? On looking over the Life of the Abbé Gagelin, one of the martyrs in Cochin China, written with talent and eloquence by the learned Abbé Jacquenet, I found what I had long been in search of, and I extract the following passage:—
“In the midst of Cochin China properly so called, between the seas which surround it on all sides except on the west, where it touches Cambodia, is the ancient kingdom of Tsiampa. The inhabitants are a singular race; they never ally themselves with the Cochin Chinese, their character, religion, and language raising insuperable barriers between them. On submitting to the yoke of the conqueror, the sovereign simply changed his title from king to mandarin, but the constitution and ancient laws remained in full vigour in his states, and he continued to exercise absolute authority over his subjects.[16] It is difficult for strangers to observe the domestic life of these people; but it is said that they practise circumcision, observe the Sabbath, abstain from the flesh of pork, and offer the sacrifice of the red calf.[17] It is even said that they possess the Pentateuch, but this I dare not affirm. Strangely, however, all these observances, imitated no one knows whence, are only vain ceremonies to these men, enigmas to which they have lost the clue. They have not even retained a distinct idea of the true God; and their worship, although mixed up with some of the rites of the Mosaic law, is a real idolatry. One wonders whence come this people. Are they an ancient colony of Ishmaelites or Idumeans? Are they an offshoot of Judaism thrown on to these shores? These questions are worthy of consideration. However it may be, their care to preserve their traditions pure from all alloy, and their obstinate persistence in error, render them worthy of a Jewish origin. The Jews, in the days of their prosperity, did not guard their faith more religiously than do these people theirs in their new Palestine; and, in order to avoid intercourse with strangers, and escape the proselyting efforts of the missionaries, they have relinquished to the Cochin Chinese all the advantages of the seashore, and retired to the mountains and the interior of the country.
“On the eve of the Assumption I bent my steps towards the interior, to visit the Tsiampois, and find out whether they would still reject the good news of salvation. After a few days’ walking I arrived, I dare not say at one of their towns, but at one of their principal dwelling-places. These singular people have retained none of the power ascribed to them by ancient tradition, according to which they have held sway over Cambodia, Cochin China, Tong King, and even Pegu, as far as the province of Canton. Their governor has to pay a small tribute, but remains as much ruler over his own people as before the conquest.
“I was anxious to find out the truth about their religion, but could only obtain scraps of tradition which a Christian could manage to put into form. One of these traditions teaches that the founder of their religion was a great man, a famous warrior, who worked marvels with a rod which is carefully preserved among them. I had the signal honour of being allowed to see it: it is about ten feet long, and is covered with a kind of red stuff, studded with yellow stars, having at one end an iron blade about an inch in length. With this rod in his hand, the founder of their faith controlled the elements, divided the waters, and calmed tempests; and it is pretended that this instrument still preserves its virtue of working miracles. They have, they say, a precious volume left them by this great chief. Their religious practices consist in the scrupulous observance of a seventh day of rest, in abstaining from certain food, especially pork, which they hold in abhorrence, and in the rite of circumcision which the male children undergo at the age of fifteen. When the girls arrive at the same age, the hair over the forehead is cut. They preserve a remembrance of certain days on which it was not lawful to work, nor even to leave their houses before sunset. Their prayers end with the word ‘Amin,’ much the same as the Amen of the Hebrews. They seem to have lost the idea of a Creator of heaven and earth, but worship the sky and the stars; there are, however, no idols in their temples. The priests who officiate there light candles on a table, burn incense, and, at certain times of the year, as in April and May, pass a month without going out of doors. Clear away from this account,” says the Abbé Jacquenet, “the mists of ages, and it is easy to recognise the traces of an Israelitish origin. Comparing this with other missionary accounts, and the traces of these people found elsewhere, who will doubt that the torch of truth, which shone formerly between the great sea and Jordan, also shed its light over the extreme East? Whether, to explain these facts, we consider the commercial relations of the Jews with these countries, particularly when, in the height of their power, the combined fleets of Solomon and Hiram went to seek the treasures of Ophir (a generic name used perhaps to designate the two Indies), or whether we come lower down, to the dispersion of the Ten Tribes, who, instead of returning from captivity, set out from the banks of the Euphrates and reached the shores of the ocean—whatever ground of explanation we resolve upon, the shining of the light of revelation in the far East is not the less incontestable. Join to this light, those traditional truths carried with them as a sacred heritage by the families who were dispersed at Babel; and say what becomes of the extravagant praises lavished on Eastern wisdom by the sect of philosophers? Passion and presumptuous ignorance joining hands tried to oppose wisdom from on high, and have left behind only a faint reflection of it.”
CHAPTER IX.
The Great Bazaar of Cambodia, Penom-Peuh—The River Mekon—The Island Ko-Sutin—Pemptiélan—Pump-Ka-Daye, on the Borders of Cambodia—Some further Notes on the Country—Father Guilloux—Journey to Brelum and the Neighbouring Country inhabited by the Savage Stiêns.
We left Pinhalú at eleven, and by evening had reached the great bazaar of Cambodia, the distance being about eighteen miles. I had little to buy, for M. Miche and M. Arnoux had insisted on filling my boat with rice and dried fish, sufficient to last not only for my voyage but during the whole period I proposed to remain among the Stiêns.
I stopped a whole day to see the city, and make a few purchases of glass, brass wire, and cotton yarn, articles which would be useful as barter among the savages. The town is situated at the confluence of two great streams, and contains about 10,000 inhabitants, almost all Chinese; but it has a floating population of more than double that number, composed of Cambodians and Cochin-Chinese, living in their boats. It was the time when most of the fishermen, returning from the great lake, stop at Penom-Peuh to sell part of their fish, and when a crowd of small merchants flock there to buy cotton, which is gathered in before the rains. Having traversed the city, which was long and dirty, I arrived at an eminence on which was built a pagoda, possessing neither beauty nor interest, but from whence there is an extensive view over a large tract of country.
On one side extend, like two long and wide ribands, across an immense wooded plain, the Mekon and its tributary; on the other, another plain and thick forest, bounded on the north-west and south by small chains of mountains.
Although the missionaries often pass through Penom-Peuh, my presence excited much curiosity among the people. The war in Cochin-China was the subject of all conversations, and in every one’s thoughts. The reports of the Chinese and Annamites who had seen the taking of the town of Saigou were not flattering to the pride of a Frenchman. I had not seen the glorious bulletins of our Admiral, but had the pain of hearing our enemies stigmatise us as barbarians, and, describing the burning of the market, and the conduct of the soldiery towards defenceless women, speak of it as “the behaviour of savages.” Thus the evil deeds of a less civilized ally were visited upon us, and our whole nation judged of by isolated acts, all but inevitable in time of war, especially in a country where the soldier suffers from the climate and privations of all kinds.
The people, perhaps the most corrupted in all the East, expected to find in us men superior, morally, as well as intellectually and physically; and I dare to flatter myself that before long they will learn to distinguish between the characters of the true French soldiers and their allies, and that in every respect we shall recover our ancient prestige.
The next day, descending the river toward the southern extremity of the city, we passed a floating town, composed of more than 500 boats, most of them of large size. They serve as an entrepôt for some merchants, and residences for others. All their money and the greater part of their merchandize is here kept, that, in case of alarm, they may be ready to take flight at a moment’s warning.
Shortly afterwards we entered the Mekon, which was only now beginning to rise, as, throughout the country the drought had been excessive, lasting much longer than usual. This great river, the name of which signifies “Mother of Rivers,” recalled to my mind the Menam, north of Bangkok, but its aspect is less gay; yet there is something very imposing in this expanse of water running with all the rapidity of a torrent. A few boats, scarcely distinguishable, toiled along: the banks, generally about 18 or 20 feet high, seemed almost deserted; and the forests were indistinctly discernible more than a mile beyond. In Siam the elegant foliage of the bamboos and palm-trees shows out strikingly against the blue sky, while the songs of the birds charm the ear: here, shoals of porpoises sail along with their noses to the wind, frequently bounding out of the water; pelicans sport on the margins of the stream, and herons and storks fly silently from among the reeds at our approach. These are the sole objects of interest.
We passed the great island of Ko-Sutin, which is distant about 40 miles from Penom-Peuh, after five days’ difficult and laborious travelling. The current was so strong that at every turn in the stream we were obliged, in addition to redoubling our efforts at the oars, to hold on by the reeds to prevent our being carried away.
The farther north we went the more rapidly the stream ran; so that when the waters are high two miles a day are the usual rate of progress; and it is a common occurrence for the boatmen to seek fuel for their evening fire in the same spot where they had cooked their rice in the morning.
About 25 or 30 leagues north of Ko-Sutin, on the confines of Laos, commence the rapids and cataracts: it is then necessary to leave the boats and take to pirogues, which, as well as the luggage, have often to be carried on men’s backs. I made a halt of only a few hours, in order to see another voluntary exile, M. Cordier, a priest of great worth, from the Cambodian mission, who resides here.
I felt great compassion for this good man, on entering the chapel which he had built, and seeing the poverty and nakedness around. He came to meet me, and invited me to share his repast. For the last three years the poor missionary has been suffering from a dysentery, which has become chronic. However, he complains neither of his bad health nor of his poverty: the only thing that grieved him was the small number of converts he was called on to baptize, so deeply are the Cambodians attached to their idols.
“But you,” said he to me; “do you know whither you are going? I am astonished that they allowed you to leave Pinhalú. Ask the Cambodians what they think of the forests of the Stiêns, and propose to some of them to accompany you: you would not find one. The rains have begun, and you are going to almost certain death, or will at least catch a fever, which will be followed by years of languor and suffering. I have had the jungle fever, and it is something terrible: even to the tips of my nails I felt a heat which I can only call infernal: sometimes an icy coldness would take its place: generally people sink under it: witness M. Lafitte, a young missionary, who a short time ago took the same journey; M. Comte, who died of exhaustion; and many others.”
This account was not reassuring, nevertheless I had determined on my route: I knew that I should find there land and fresh-water shells which I could find nowhere else,[18] and that this tribe of almost unknown savages would afford me a curious and interesting study; and these considerations were sufficient to determine me to proceed. I trusted in God, and went on my way, M. Cordier’s last words being, “May God be with the poor traveller!”
Twelve miles higher up I left the river, and set off on my land journey at two o’clock in the afternoon, hoping to arrive the same day at Pemptiélan, a large village, where lived the mandarin to whom the king’s letter was addressed. We did not, however, get there till eleven the next morning, having to pass the night at the foot of a tree, where we lighted a fire. I waited at once upon the mandarin, who is governor of the district, and he received me very well, in spite of the small value of the presents I made him, and immediately gave orders for waggons to be made ready for me. He then presented me with a quantity of tobacco and betel. His manners were, for a Cambodian, gentle and polished; and he questioned me much as to the war in Cochin-China, as well as about Europe, how long it took to get there, &c.