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.
During the two days I have been here I have lodged in the boat of a Chinese who was at first afraid to receive me; and I may consider myself fortunate in meeting with any resting-place. Yesterday I paid a visit to the governor, who resides in an old hut, repulsively dirty, about two miles from the spot where I landed. Although this is the most important place in Saraburi, this wretched dwelling, and a few scattered huts belonging to agriculturists, are all the houses I have seen; there is no bazaar, and no floating shops. From time to time petty merchants come to sell or exchange salt and other articles of absolute necessity; or a few Chinese with small stocks of langoutis, arrack, cloth, Siamese dresses, and bowls, which they barter for skins, horns, or rice. These dealers sometimes go as far as Boatioume.
The current was so strong, that in a quarter of an hour we reached the residence of the mandarin whose acquaintance I had made on my former journey, and who, in return for a present I had given him, had promised me, in the event of my going to Korat, to furnish me with even a hundred attendants, if I needed as many. I announced to him my intention of visiting Khao-Khoc, fixed upon two years ago by the King of Siam as a desirable place for a fortress to which he might retire, in case the too active Europeans should seize upon his capital—which, let me whisper, would be very easy to do, and would only require a handful of our brave Zouaves accustomed to an African sun.
I was all the better received by the mandarin, that I asked for nothing; for I had already engaged a boat, the owner of which wished to return to Khao-Khoc in two days. I had projected a trip to Patawi, but at this season the roads are impassable, so that I was forced to abandon the idea.
A great number of the inhabitants of this province are natives of Laos, and are principally captives brought from Vien Chang after the insurrection there. The provinces of Boatioume and Petchaboune are peopled by Siamese, for Laos proper only commences at M’Lôm. Boatioume, Petchaboune, Sôm, and some other provinces in the north and east, are governed by Siamese mandarins of rank more or less elevated; that is to say, several of them have the power of life and death, and are then considered as viceroys. The most distant provinces belong to the empire of Siam, and form a part of it.
Petchaboune is particularly noted for its tobacco, which is reckoned the best in Siam; and a commerce in this article is carried on with Bangkok in spite of the extreme difficulty of communication; for in the time of the inundations, when boats of some size are able to come up here, the contending against a very strong current is the labour of a month; while in the dry season only very small boats can be used, as, frequently, they have to be dragged over the sand, or carried past the rocks, which in many places cause rapids and obstruct the navigation. This commerce is chiefly in the hands of the Siamese of Petchaboune, who arrive at Pakpriau towards the end of the rainy season, to exchange their tobacco for betel and other articles.
The province of Saraburi is very populous, and in the southern districts a great quantity of rice is produced, but the quality of it is inferior to that of Pechaburi, which is considered very good, and is regularly bought by the Siamese dealers, who afterwards carry it to Bangkok. As is the case all over the country, there is great difficulty in arriving at a correct estimate of the population, which is scattered along the banks of the stream.
Saohaïe is the starting-point for all the caravans going to Korat. Another road, from Muang-Kabuic, also leads to this ancient Cambodian town; but it is little frequented, except by the Laotians of the locality.
VISIT FROM THE GOVERNOR.
Whilst writing I was interrupted by the unexpected visit of the governor, who was on his way to a pagoda to make an offering of dried fruits, and passed an hour in my cabin. He was in a large and elegant pirogue more than 30 metres long, for which I would have given his house and all its appurtenances. He sent for the owner of the boat which was to take me to Khao-Khoc, and gave him some instructions for the chief of that place, adding, “I have sent no letter, because I know that M. Mouhot made himself respected when here two years ago, and will doubtless do the same there.” I could not but offer him some small presents in acknowledgment of this slight service, which might or might not be of use to me. I therefore gave him a pair of spectacles mounted in tortoiseshell, a bottle of scent, and one of brandy; and I prepared for him a sedative mixture, as he begged for some medicine for his rheumatism. Happy Raspail! who, with his “system,” can assuage suffering even in these distant lands.
In return, he promised to give me a pony when I wanted to go to Korat, besides other useless things; but he will probably forget these promises, for here it is the custom of the rich to accept everything even from the poorest, but very rarely to give away. However, were it not for peculation and presents, how could these mandarins live? Their salary—when they have one—would condemn them to a state of leanness which would not only drive them to despair, but cause them to be looked upon as unsuitable for their places.