To M. Charles Mouhot.
Saraburi (Siam), 24th February, 1861.
You will be astonished, my dear friend, to see my letter dated from Saraburi, instead of from Laos. When I reached Chaiapume, I went to the governor with my letters, and asked him to lend me elephants to enable me to continue my journey, that being the only method of travelling among these mountains; but he refused me decidedly, and consequently I have been forced to retrace my steps. Here one can do nothing without the help of the people in power.
I therefore returned to Korat, and established Phrai in a hut which I hired of a Chinese; and went myself to Bangkok, to procure from the authorities orders to the different governors of provinces to aid me instead of throwing obstacles in my way.
From Korat I had the pleasure of travelling with an amiable mandarin of Bangkok, who had been to fetch a white elephant from Laos, and who had conceived a great friendship for me. He travelled in great style; the caravan was magnificent; we had more than sixty elephants, two of which were placed at my disposal, one for my own use, and one for my servants.
Finding myself in the good graces of this mandarin, I told him why I was going to Bangkok, and he promised to obtain for me all I wanted.
When I reached Saraburi I found all the governors of Laos and the first mandarins of Bangkok assembled there to take care of the white elephant. The Siamese, being very superstitious, and believing in metempsychosis, think that the soul of some prince or king has passed into the white elephant; they have the same belief as to white apes and albinoes, consequently they hold them all in great respect. They do not worship them, for the Siamese recognise no God, not even Buddha, but they believe that a white elephant brings luck to the country.
During the whole journey the men were busy cutting down branches to make his passage easy; two mandarins fed him with different kinds of cakes in golden dishes, and the King came out to meet him.
I owe, therefore, to the white elephant the most satisfactory letters which I have obtained, and which have cost me my best gun and nearly 300 francs in presents; but I might have had to give much more, and, as I am going to Bangkok, I can replenish my stock. As for the poor elephant, he was so much cared for and so well fed, that he died of indigestion.
It is a terrible affliction, and all the mandarins and other dignitaries collected here are in great grief about it.
To Madame Mouhot (his Wife).
Saraburi, 24th February, 1861.
My dear Annette,
You will be much surprised on receiving this letter to see it dated from Saraburi, for if you have received the one I wrote in January, you must believe me to be already in Laos. But man proposes, and God disposes. However, to reassure you, I must begin by saying that I am in perfect health, and full of strength and hope. All goes well with me.
I had in fact reached Laos. I arrived at Korat after a tedious and troublesome journey, for I had only a few oxen for my baggage, and was forced to walk myself. From there I went to Chaiapume, and here an animal of the mandarin species made himself great, and under the pretext of having no elephants refused me the means of going further, and was so rude and impolite to me that I determined at once to return and protest against the very insufficient protection which had been granted to me. Indeed, I could do nothing else, not being able to go on. The elephant which had brought me to Chaiapume took me back to Korat, and there I found a mandarin from Bangkok, who had been sent to fetch a white elephant which had been taken in Laos. I begged him to let me join his party, and he lent me two elephants, one for my servant and luggage, and one for myself. I left Phrai at Korat, with the greater part of my possessions, having hired a room for him in the house of a Chinese, and a week afterwards found myself back at Saraburi, in company with this strange divinity (who, by the way, had more black than white about him), and of the grand personage who had been sent to escort him, and who had showered on him every kind of attention during the journey. He had an escort of fifty foot soldiers and several on horseback. As for me, I wanted for nothing; at every halt the mandarin sent me ducks, fish, fruit, sweetmeats, &c., and he was also kind enough to allow me eight men as night-guards to watch round my fire. In return, I discovered for him in the mountains large quantities of copper, and even gold, which delighted him.
The whole province of Saraburi was in motion to do honour to the white elephant; the King and all his court are coming here; the ministers are here already to watch over him. I decided, therefore, to apply to the Siamese, hoping to obtain more from them than from the Europeans; and yesterday, hearing of the arrival of Khrom Luang, the King’s brother, I hastened to address myself to him. He, however, had only passed through, and was gone to Prabat, to join the King. However, I found here the man I wanted, the mandarin who has most interest in Laos, and without a letter from whom it would have been difficult to proceed. I did not know him, but I went to him to ask about the Prince, and told him what I wanted. “I am your man,” said he; “the Prince can only give an order for me to write a letter, such as I will give you, if you like.” I accepted gladly, and promised him in return my double-barrelled gun, which I could easily replace, “if he would only furnish me with the means of travelling through Laos without expense, and would bring the Chaiapume mandarin to reason.” The poor governor of Saraburi was with us, and had to remain more than an hour amidst a number of others kneeling on the bare ground, while I was seated on the mat of the mandarin, by his side, eating sweetmeats and drinking tea, while he dictated a letter in which he called the governor of Chaiapume a fool, and threatened to deprive him of his office, and of this letter I was to be the bearer; and he promised me another general one on the morrow, in which he stated that if I did not receive efficient aid it might bring on a war; and this he also repeated to all the chiefs present. My cause was gained, and I could plainly see that our affairs must be going on well in Cochin China; the echo of the cannon had its effect in Siam. However, I had promised him my gun, and evidently he wished to have it before he gave me the letters. This morning, therefore, I took it to him all cleaned and furbished up. He was delighted with it, and gave me at once the letter for Korat and Chaiapume, and to-morrow I am to have one which will carry me all through Laos without any expense but a few ticals to the cornacs. Without this, judging by what I had to pay for an elephant from Korat to Chaiapume, my purse would have been exhausted by the time I reached the north of Laos, and I should not have had the means of returning without sending to Bangkok to ask for help, which would have been a work of difficulty, and, what is worse, I should have been exposed all along the route to the insolence of these arrogant mandarins. Now, they will all humble themselves before me, taking me for some important personage sent by the Emperor Napoleon or Queen Victoria to collect butterflies, insects, and birds for them. I shall no longer travel on foot, but on elephants, and shall want for nothing. Agree, then, with me, that out of evil comes good, or rather, that God does all for the best. When at Chaiapume I found myself obliged to retrace my steps, after so many fatigues, and so great a waste of money, I was only downcast for a few minutes; God almost immediately inspired me with the idea that all would turn to my advantage, and this persuasion never left me again. Unaccountably to myself, I was gayer on my return than I had been in coming, although then I was everywhere well received and kindly treated by the people. Even after my discourteous reception at Chaiapume, all the inhabitants came to see me, to bring me little presents, and to express their regret that they could not aid me from fear of their chief. The head of the monastery took me to see some ruins similar to those in Cambodia, and gave me a tiger-skin; and all along the road I experienced the same kindness, and numbers came to me to ask for advice and various remedies.
The Chinese are all my friends. When I returned to this town, you should have seen them all run out to see me, and those at whose houses I had stopped were full of inquiries as to my affairs, and crying out “Ah! here is the gentleman back again.” The next day would be their New Year’s Day, which they keep as a feast as we do Christmas. “I have come back to feast with you to-morrow,” replied I; and the next day I was so loaded with cakes and other good things that I have not finished them yet.
You must arm yourself with patience, dear Annette, for I have not yet finished. I learned this morning that a French ship of war is at Paknam, I presume for the purpose of taking back the Siamese Ambassador who has been so long expected in France. The king must be delighted, for he has a great dread of any quarrel with France or England now that he has seen their power. They may very probably come here, and at the risk of losing three days I shall wait and see, for, doubtless, the officer would receive me well, and do more for me than the Consul did. After that, I shall go to Bangkok, where I shall remain only a day, in order to buy a few necessaries in which I was beginning to run short, such as camphor, shoes, cloth, and a gun, and to get a little money, 50 or 100 ticals, from M. Adamson, who will willingly advance it to me, as he promised; and above all, to receive all the dear letters from home, of which a number must be lying at Dr. Campbell’s.
My useless voyage to Chaiapume diminished my resources, and it would be great pity that the want of a few hundred francs should force me to return before I have completed my journey, and before I have finished collecting what will amply repay all my expenses.
In a few days I will add a line to this letter to tell you the result of my interview with the officer, and of my journey to Bangkok. I shall hear news also from your letters; let them only be good, and I shall be happy. I must now close my letter for to-day, my dear Annette; some day you will see my journal, and read all my adventures in detail. I can write no more to-day, but only repeat my assurance that I am perfectly well, in spite of all trials, thanks to my prudence and sobriety. Show this letter or anything that is interesting in it to all friends. I speak only of my own affairs, but you know I am not changed. And yet a few words of love would doubtless be more prized by you, but were I to write a thousand I could not express half the love with which my heart is filled for you all; indeed I fear to begin, for that would have no end. I write all this on my knees; my back aches, and now I must go and seek some repose. Au revoir! I trust soon to send you still better news than this. I embrace you a thousand times from the bottom of my heart, as well as all those dear to us, and am ever
Your devoted husband,
H. Mouhot.
To Madame Mouhot.
Saraburi, 25th February, 1861.
My very dear Annette,
I reached Korat two days ago, and in four more I hope to be able to proceed northward. I have been obliged to travel on foot, not having been able to procure elephants at Saraburi; my baggage was carried by oxen. I feel perfectly well, and experience so little fatigue that on the day of my arrival here I walked about till evening.
I write you these few lines only to set your mind at ease, for—surrounded from morning till night by curious gazers who have never before seen a European—it would be difficult to enter into details, but, in truth, my journey furnished but few. I travelled with Laotians, and found them very kind; in a few days I shall be in the heart of their country, and think I shall find them superior to the Siamese. I regret that this letter will be short, but I have little to tell since I wrote last; when I am quietly settled in some little hut in the midst of a village, I can write at my ease if an opportunity presents itself.
Be easy on my account, dear Annie, and feel sure that God will not abandon me; all my confidence is in Him, and this will never deceive me. He will sustain and protect you also, and this assurance gives me strength.
Adieu, my good Annette; take great care of yourself. I embrace you tenderly, and am ever your devoted and affectionate husband,
H. Mouhot.
P.S.—I shall set off to-morrow. Yesterday I visited an old pagoda; there is another, but to which I shall not be able to go, as it would cost me 9 ticals, and take several days, and I shall be obliged to be excessively economical. Yesterday I had a visit from a mandarin, the viceroy of the province. He was very amiable, and promised me a letter, but the people are so kind that I have really no need of it, and even the disagreeable ones I manage to gain over.
Adieu, my love. Do not forget me, but do not be uneasy. May God grant to you the same tranquillity and confidence that I feel and make you as happy as I am. Do not complain of the shortness of this letter; you cannot imagine how I am pestered by gazers and idlers.
Embrace your dear mamma for me, to whom I wish good health; say everything kind to Kate, &c. Once more, adieu, and au revoir! Your devoted Henri. I shall write whenever I find an opportunity.
To Madame Charles Mouhot.
Louang Prabang (Laos), 23rd July, 1861.
Now, my dear Jenny, let us converse together. Do you know of what I often think when every one around me is asleep, and I, lying wrapped in my mosquito-curtains, let my thoughts wander back to all the members of my family? Then I seem to hear again the charming voice of my little Jenny, and to be listening once more to ‘La Traviata,’ ‘The Death of Nelson,’ or some other of the airs that I loved so much to hear you sing. I then feel regret, mingled with joy, at the souvenirs of the happy—oh, how happy!—past. Then I open the gauze curtains, light my pipe, and gaze out upon the stars, humming softly the ‘Pâtre’ of Béranger, or the ‘Old Sergeant,’ and thinking that one day I may return Corporal or Sergeant of the battalion of Naturalists.
Perhaps all this does not interest you, but you may feel sure that I do not forget you nor your children; so let me, my dear child, talk to you as we used to talk in the old times as we sat by the fire. When shall we do so again?
In another year, or perhaps two, dear Jenny, I shall think of returning to you all for some time. Shall you be very angry, my dear little sister, when I say that it will be with regret?—for I should wish to visit the whole of the mountains that I can see from my window. I say “window,” but here such a luxury is unknown: I live in a shed without either doors or windows—a room open to every wind.
I would wish, I repeat, to cross the whole network of mountains which extend northward, see what lies beyond them, visit China or Thibet, and see the Calmucks or the Irkoutsk. But, alas! I cannot trust my dear insects. I say “my dear insects” as you would say “my dear children” to the king of Louang Prabang.
How does all go on at Jersey?—for I hope that you are still there. Your children form your happiness, and you can dispense easily with travelling, or with those people commonly called “friends”—nothing is so general as the name, or so rare as the reality—and you are right; yet I consider a true friend as a real treasure. I may be wrong, for man is so constituted as always to long for what he has not, but I wish I had friends around me here; these places, now often gloomy, would please me more.
I hoped that at the king’s return I should have the happiness of hearing from you; but I am told that his journey will occupy a year, and before that time I shall be away from here.
I hope, my little friend, that all is well with you. Embrace your dear children for me, and talk to them sometimes about their uncle “Barberousse,” who often thinks of them in this distant land, and is collecting stories for their amusement on his return. Ask C—— what I shall bring him—a monkey, a sabre to cut off M——’s dolls’ heads—no, that would give him warlike ideas, and I do not like our modern soldiers—or a tiger-skin for a carpet. I have several. And your pretty little M——, will she have an ape, a fan, some Chinese slippers (for she must have feet which would be small even in China), some marabout feathers, or a cane to keep her brothers in order?
Adieu, adieu! Au revoir! Do not forget me.
To Madame Mouhot.
Laos, Louang Prabang, 27th July, 1861.
During my journey through the forests I enjoyed in anticipation the pleasure I should enjoy on reaching Louang Prabang, the capital of the province of Laos, in writing you good long letters containing all details of my journey; but I reckoned without my host, and it will be several weeks before I can enjoy any repose, or carry my wishes into execution.
In the villages through which I passed no great degree of curiosity was manifested; but here, where the population is greater, I am surrounded by a compact and curious crowd, which extends even to the walls of a pagoda adjoining the caravanserai where I am lodged by the favour of his Majesty the King. Besides, I, in my turn, see people of various nations and tribes who excite my curiosity. Judge, therefore, if it be easy to collect my ideas. However, I profit by the occasion of the king’s departure for Bangkok in a few days to pay his tribute, and who has offered to take charge of any letters for me, to give some signs of life to you.
You will be happy to hear that I have accomplished this troublesome journey satisfactorily, without the loss of a single man, and without any personal illness. Indeed, my health has been very good, which is more than I can say for my servants, who are so kind and devoted to me. I am even astonished at myself, having gone through the mountainous district which separates the basin of the Menam from that of the Mekon, a place much dreaded by the Siamese, and covered with virgin-forests like those of Dong Phya Phia, without having had a single touch of fever, or, indeed, any indisposition, with the exception of migraine, caused by the heat of the sun, and having my feet in a very bad state.
I bless God for the favour granted to me of having accomplished these perilous journeys, and trust wholly to His goodness for the future.
I am now more than 250 leagues north of the place where two years ago I first drank the waters of the Mekon. This immense stream, which is larger here than the Menam at Bangkok or the Thames below London Bridge, flows between high mountains with the rapidity of a torrent, tearing up in the rainy season the trees along the banks, and breaking with a noise like that of a stormy sea against the rocks, which form a number of frightful rapids.
I arrived here only the day before yesterday, after a journey of four months and ten days; but I stopped in several places, for I often found fields ready to cut in the rice-grounds that the mountaineers cultivate on the slopes of the mountains, and when the crops are cut down insects abound.
My collections made during the journey are very valuable and beautiful, and I have a great number of new species, both entomological and conchological, with which, if they only reach London in safety, our friends will be delighted. All the beautiful kinds that I was asked for, but which elsewhere are so rare that with great trouble I was only able to procure one or two specimens, I have now in great abundance, and also many new sorts. Here I hope to do still better.
They are all savages in this province, and I have just received a visit from two young princes remarkable for their stupidity.
I have suffered little from the heat, in spite of the season, which is easy to understand, as I have been always amidst thick forests or on mountains. In the valleys the air is heavy, and the heat overwhelming; but everywhere the nights were so fresh that my wraps were useful and almost indispensable. In a few months we shall probably want fire. I prefer this climate to that of the South; there are few mosquitoes (that plague of the tropics and especially of Siam) in comparison with other places—indeed, in some of these parts I have not found any.
Thanks to the Governor of Korat, who gave me an excellent letter to the mandarins, I have travelled at little expense; without it, I should have paid much more, and have suffered every kind of inconvenience. Everywhere I have been furnished with elephants (as many as seven in some provinces), an escort, guard, and plenty of provisions.
I had this morning an audience of the great body of State Mandarins, like the House of Peers with us. Twenty of them were assembled in a vast caravanserai, and presided over by the eldest prince. You may form some idea of the dignity of these gentlemen by the drawing which I will send to you.
My plan is to pass six or eight months of the good season in the neighbouring villages, in order to complete my collection, and next January or March I will try to go north or east, where I shall pass a few more months amidst the Laotian tribes. Probably I shall go no farther, for China would be a barrier to me on the north, and Cochin China on the east. I shall then return here, and go down the Mekon in July or August, 1862, the time when the waters are high, and shall thus reach Korat in a few weeks. I am yet uncertain whether I shall stop there, whether I shall explore the eastern part of the river, or whether I shall go to Cambodia. All my movements depend upon circumstances that may arise. I shall try to profit by all that are favourable, and that will contribute to give interest to my journey.
Do not be anxious when you think of your poor friend the traveller, for you know that up to the present time everything has prospered with him: and truly I experience a degree of contentment, strength of soul, and internal peace, which I have never known before.
[Same Letter.]
Louang Prabang, 8th August, 1861.
No event could have caused more sensation here than the arrival of “the long-bearded stranger.” From the humblest to the greatest—for even here are distinctions of rank—every one looks on a “white” as a natural curiosity, and they are not yet satisfied with looking—nothing is talked of but the stranger. When I pass through the town in my white dress, to go to the market or to visit the pagodas or other interesting places, the people crowd round me, and look after me as long as they can catch a glimpse of me. Everywhere I go complete silence reigns, and I am treated as though I were a sovereign or prince, and the council, by order of the king, have given to me as to them power of life or death over his subjects. Poor people! why can I not raise you from the abasement into which you have fallen—I am overwhelmed with presents of all kinds in return for the slightest favour shown to these unfortunate people. They seem to me some of the most to be pitied that I have seen; even the women and children are opium-eaters: they might really be called a nation of cretins.
The heat is greater here than any I have felt; when the sun shines, and there has been no rain for several days, I find it worse than at Bangkok; still the nights are generally pleasant, and from the month of December to the end of March I am told that it is really cold.