He set out for Louang-Prabang on 15th October, and on the 18th halted at H—— (the name is unfinished in the manuscript); the next day he felt the first symptoms of the fever to which he fell a victim. From the 29th October he wrote nothing. The last words in the journal, “Have pity on me, O my God,” show the religious principles which had guided his life.
All that we know of his last days and his lamentable end, was learned from his two native servants, who were strongly attached to him; and through Sir R. Schomburgh, the English Consul at Bangkok, and Dr. Campbell, Surgeon R.N., who was attached to the British consulate, and who returned shortly afterwards to England, when he placed all the papers, notes, and drawings left by M. Mouhot in the hands of his widow and of M. Charles Mouhot, whose task it has been to arrange this legacy as methodically as possible, considering the great difficulty of finding the connecting links of his various descriptions.
The ‘Athenæum’ and the ‘Illustrated London News’[1] both inserted an account of the death of M. H. Mouhot; and the latter journal justly designated his death as another addition to the long list of martyrs to science. It likewise gave a short sketch of the discoveries and scientific services of this intrepid traveller.
Ornithology, entomology, and other branches of natural history, were represented in the collection sent by M. Mouhot to his agent, Mr. S. Stevens, of Bloomsbury Street, London, and were the subject of several papers by Dr. Gray, Dr. Gunter, Dr. Louis Pfeiffer, and other naturalists, members of the Zoological Society of London, and published in the ‘Annals and Magazine of Natural History.’ At a meeting of the Royal Geographical Society on the 10th of March, 1862, Sir R. Murchison seized the occasion of reading some letters from the traveller relating to the topography of Cambodia, to pay a tribute of gratitude to his merit as a zoological collector and explorer. “His loss,” he observed, “will be much felt by men of science, and a long time may elapse before another man will be found bold enough to follow his steps in that country of virgin forests and fever, and to the exploring of which he sacrificed his home, his health, and his life.”
Mr. Stevens, in acquainting the brother of the traveller with the fact of his having received a new zoological collection which had been consigned to him, says, “I can truly say that the insects and shells equal, if they do not surpass, any in the most beautiful collections I have ever received, and show clearly what a marvellously rich country for the naturalist lies between Siam and Cochin-China.” A splendid scarabæus was also sent to Mr. Stevens, who remarks, that “this insect was described in the ‘Zoological Review’ of Paris under the name of Mouhotia gloriosa, as a mark of respect to the late M. Mouhot, and stated to be one of the most magnificent known.”
The Society of Montbéliard hastened, on the first news of his death, to write to his brother, and the letter contains these words:—“His work was left unfinished, but it was gloriously commenced, and his name will not perish!”
Amidst all these eulogiums of a life, short but well spent, one of the most touching is a letter from M. Marie Ch. Fontaine, missionary at Saigon in Cochin-China, who was in Paris in August, 1862, and saw in a newspaper the death of the man whom he had met in Siam and Cambodia, which was soon confirmed by a letter from his brother. This worthy missionary addressed to M. Charles Mouhot a letter, of which the whole should be read; we only extract the following passage:—“I learned, when on my mission, the death of my father, and then that of my mother. I assure you that these two cruel blows scarcely made more impression on me than the news of the death of a man whose equal I had not met with during the twenty years that I have inhabited that country; and to hear of his dying without any help, and having no one near him but his servants throughout his illness, in a country so barbarous, was more than sufficient to make tears flow at the memory of this good and benevolent friend. Be assured, my dear Sir, that my sentiments are shared by all here who knew M. Mouhot. The natives themselves must have felt regret at his loss, for all whom he came near praised him for his behaviour towards them, and his gentleness and generosity; qualities invaluable in the eyes of that people.”
In a letter recently addressed by Sir R. Schomburgh to M. C. Mouhot, enclosing the portraits of the King and Queen of Siam, that gentleman thus expresses himself:—“I admired the zeal and knowledge of your late brother; and his manners were so amiable and modest that one would have thought that every one with whom he came in contact would have exercised all their influence to assist him in his plans. I often regretted that he was not an English subject, that I might have been able to do more for him. I shall look impatiently for the publication of his book, and have given orders that the French edition may be forwarded to me at once.”
I can add nothing to these touching testimonies, which paint faithfully the man as I knew him in Holland. The affectionate heart of Henri Mouhot awakened in others an affection which the tomb does not destroy, but which grows stronger with time.
J. J. Belinfante.