“The Vakeel at my desire addressed the Rajah, explaining fully my wishes, and M. de Körös resolved to remain here, pending a reply from Sikkim. He was full of hope as to the favourable result of the reference, and in the most enthusiastic manner would dilate on the delight he expected to derive from coming in contact with some of the learned men of the East (Lassa), as the Lamas of Ladak and Kanum, with whom alone he had previous communion, were confessedly inferior in learning to those of Eastern Tibet. He was modest and almost silent on the benefits which might accrue to general knowledge from the results of his contemplated journey; but ‘what would Hodgson, Turnour, and some of the philosophers of Europe not give to be in my place when I get to Lassa?’ was a frequent exclamation of his during the conversations I had with him previous to his illness. He had arranged, in the event of his getting permission to proceed, to leave with me all his books, papers, and bank-notes to the amount of 300 rupees, to be cared for on his behalf; and a complete copy of the ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society,’ which he had received from the Society, he said he should ask me to keep, in the event of his never returning. How soon were all his enthusiastic anticipations clouded, and his journeyings stopped for ever!
“On the 6th instant I called on him, and found him feverish, with foul tongue, dry skin, and headache. I urged him to take some medicine, but in vain. He said he had suffered often from fever and other ailments, from which he had recovered without physic; that rhubarb was the only thing of the sort he had ever used, except tartar emetic. The former had been recommended to him by Moorcroft, and the latter by a Persian doctor. [[148]]He took out of his box a small bit of decayed rhubarb and a phial of tartar emetic, and said, with apparent distrust in their virtues, ‘As you wish it, I will take some to-morrow, if I am not better; it is too late to-day, the sun is going down.’ I sent him some weak soup, and returned to see him on the 7th. He was then much better, got off his pallet, entered into conversation, chatted animatedly with me for an hour on his favourite subjects of thought and inquiry. For the first time since I had seen him, he this day showed how sensitive he was to the applause of the world as a reward to his labours and privations. He went over the whole of his travels in Tibet with fluent rapidity; and in noticing each stage of the results of his studies, he mentioned the distinguished notice that had been accorded in Europe and India to the facts and doctrines brought to light by him. He seemed especially gratified with an editorial article by Prof. Wilson in the supplement to the ‘Government Gazette’ of 9th July 1829, which he produced, and bid me read; it related to the extreme hardships he had undergone while at the monastery of Zanskar, where, with the thermometer below zero, for more than four months he was precluded by the severity of the weather from stirring out of a room nine feet square; yet in this situation he read from morning till evening without a fire, the ground forming his bed, and the walls of the building his protection against the rigours of the climate, and still he collected and arranged forty thousand words of the language of Tibet, and nearly completed his Dictionary and Grammar.[3] Passing from this subject, he said, in a playful mood, ‘I will show you something very curious,’ and he produced another number of Wilson’s paper of September 10, 1827, and pointing to one editorial paragraph, desired me to read it first, and then hear the explanation.[4] It runs thus (after [[149]]noticing some communications to the Asiatic Society from Mr Hodgson): ‘In connection with the literature and religion of Tibet, and indeed of the whole of the Bhoti countries, we are happy to learn that the patronage of the Government has enabled the Hungarian traveller, Csoma de Körös, to proceed to Upper Besarh to prosecute his Tibetan studies for three years, in which period he engages to prepare a comprehensive Grammar and Vocabulary of the language, with an account of the history and literature of the country.
“ ‘These objects are the more desirable, as we understand M. de Körös considers the recent labours of Klaproth and Rémusat, with regard to the language and literature of Tibet, as altogether erroneous. Monsieur Rémusat, indeed, admits the imperfectness of his materials, but Klaproth, as usual, pronounces ex cathedrâ, and treats the notion of any successful study of Tibetan by the English in India with ineffable contempt.’ ‘Now, I do not recollect,’ said M. de Körös, ‘that I gave my opinion of Klaproth as it is given here, but, oh! Wilson was very, very,’ and he shook his head significantly, ‘against Klaproth, and he took this opportunity to pull him down, and favour Rémusat. It is very curious;’ and he laughed heartily. Not being of the initiated in the curiosities of Tibetan literature, I did not fully appreciate the jest, but others probably will; and I was greatly interested with the keen enjoyment produced in the mind of the Ascetic by this subject.
“At the same visit he produced Hodgson’s ‘Illustrations of the Literature and Religion of the Buddhists,’ and asked me if I had seen it. On being told that I had a copy, and had been familiar with its contents in progress of collection, although unversed in the subject, he said, ‘He sent me this copy; it is a wonderful combination of knowledge on a new subject, with the deepest philosophical speculations, and will astonish the people of Europe. There are, however, some mistakes in it.’ I [[150]]think he then said: ‘In your paper on the Limboos you asked if the appellation “Hung,” distinctive of families of that tribe, had any reference to the original “Huns,” the objects of my search in Asia. It is a curious similarity, but your “Hungs” are a small tribe, and the people who passed from Asia, as the progenitors of the Hungarians, were a great nation.’ I replied, that as the original country of the Limboo ‘Hungs’ was undoubtedly north of the Himalaya, and as he believed the same to be the case as regarded the ‘Huns,’ it was at all events possible that the ‘Hungs’ of this neighbourhood might have been an offshoot from the same nation. ‘Yes, yes,’ he rejoined, ‘it is very possible; but I do not think it is the case.’ And then, as if preferring to luxuriate in remote speculations on his beloved subjects rather than in attempting to put an end to them by a discovery at hand, he gave a rapid summary of the manner in which he believed his native land was possessed by the original ‘Huns,’ and his reasons for tracing them to Central or Eastern Asia. This was all done in the most enthusiastic strain; but the texture of the story was too complicated for me to take connected note of it. I gathered, however, from his conversation of this day, and of the previous ones since our acquaintance, that all his hopes of attaining the object of the long and laborious search were centered in the discovery of the country of the ‘Yoogars.’ This land he believed to be to the east and north of Lassa and the province of Kham, and on the western confines of China. To reach it was the goal of his most ardent wishes, and there he fully expected to find the tribes he had hitherto sought in vain. The foundation of his hopes, to any one not deeply imbued with enthusiasm, or accustomed to put faith in philological affinities, will probably appear vague and insecure. It was as follows, in so far as I could gather from his repeated conversations:—In the dialects of Europe—the Sclavonic, Celtic, Saxon, and German—I believe the people who gave their [[151]]name to the country now called Hungary, were styled ‘Hunger’ or ‘Ungur,’ ‘Oongar’ or ‘Yoongar,’ and in Arabic, Turkish, and Persian works there are notices of a nation in Central Asia resembling in many respects the people who came from the East into Hungary. In these languages they are styled ‘Oogur,’ ‘Woogur,’ ‘Voogur,’ or ‘Yoogur,’ according to the pronunciation of the Persian letter; and from the same works it might be inferred, he said, that the country of the ‘Yoogurs’ was situated as above noted. There were collateral reasons which led him to this conclusion, but he did not lay much stress on them, and they have escaped my memory. It has since occurred to me, that at the time of the conversations now detailed, M. de Körös had some presentiment that death was near him, for on no former occasion was he so communicative, nor did he express opinions as if he was very anxious they should be remembered. On this day he certainly did so, and I feel it due to his memory to record them, even in this imperfect manner. To give his opinions point, it would require a knowledge of the subjects on which he discoursed, to which I cannot pretend; yet such as they are, they may, as the last words of an extraordinary man, be prized by those who honoured him for his acquirements, and admired him for his unwearied exertions in the cause of literature, languages, and history.
“Although so much better on the 7th than on the previous day, I dreaded that a return of fever was impending, and I again urged him to take medicine, but in vain. On the 8th I did not see him, but on the morning of the 9th, on visiting him with Dr. Griffith, I found that fever had returned; he was confused and slightly delirious, his countenance was sunken, anxious, and yellow, and altogether his state was bad and dangerous. After much trouble, we got him to swallow some medicine, and had his temples rubbed with blistering fluid. On the morning of the 10th he was somewhat better, but still unable to talk [[152]]connectedly or distinctly; towards evening he became comatose, and continued so until 5 A.M. of the 11th, when he expired without a groan or struggle. On the 12th, at 8 A.M., his remains were interred in the burial-ground of this station. I read the funeral service over him in the presence of almost all the gentlemen at the place.
“The effects consisted of four boxes of books and papers, the suit of blue clothes which he always wore, and in which he died, a few sheets, and one cooking-pot. His food was confined to tea, of which he was very fond, and plain boiled rice, of which he ate very little. On a mat on the floor, with a box of books on the four sides, he sat, ate, slept, and studied, never undressed at night, and rarely went out during the day. He never drank wine or spirits, or used tobacco or other stimulants.
“Annexed is a detailed list of the contents of the boxes. Among his papers were found the bank-notes for 300 rupees, to which he alluded before his death, and a memorandum regarding Government papers for 5000 rupees, which is stated in transcript of a letter to the Government, dated 8th February 1842, it was his wish to leave at his death to the Asiatic Society of Bengal for any literary purpose. Cash to the number of 224 rupees of various coinage, and a waist-belt containing 26 gold pieces (Dutch ducats, I believe), complete the money part of his effects. From this I shall deduct the funeral expenses and wages due to his Lepcha servant, and retain the remainder, along with the books and papers, until I receive the orders of Government for disposing of them. As the deceased was not a British subject, I have not made the usual advertisement of the possession of his effects, nor have I taken charge of them in the civil court, but in my capacity of political officer in this direction.
“From a letter of James Prinsep’s among the papers, I gather that he was a native of the town of Pest, or [[153]]Pesth, in the province of Transylvania,[5] and I have found transcript of a letter addressed by him to the Austrian Ambassador in London, apparently on matters connected with his native country; I presume, therefore, that the proper mode of making his death known to his relations, if such there be, and of disposing of the money not willed by him, will be through the Austrian Ambassador at the British Court. In some documents I found his address to be Körösi Csoma Sandor.”
In a footnote Mr. Henry Torrens remarks as follows: “I may add to Mr. Campbell’s interesting paper such information as my memory enables me to give of the opinion held by the deceased philologist on the origin of the Huns, which, with singular opinions on the Buddhist faith, constituted his most favourite speculations. He, on more than one occasion entered on the subject with me at great length, detailing in particular the Sanskrit origin of existing names of places and hill-ranges in Hungary. My constant request at the close of these conversations used to be that he would record these speculations. He invariably refused, alluding darkly to the possibility of his one day having it in his power to publish to the world something sounder than speculation. In proportion as I pressed him on the subject, he became more reserved with me on these particular questions. He seemed to have an antipathy to his opinions being published. I remember his giving me one day a quantity of curious speculation on the derivation of geographical names in Central Asia. Some months afterwards I had occasion to annotate on a theory of the nomenclature of the Oxus, and, writing to him, recapitulated his opinion on the subject, and begged to be allowed to publish it. His answer was that ‘he did not remember.’
“His exceeding diffidence on the subjects on which he might have dictated to the learned world of Europe and Asia was the most surprising trait in him. He was very [[154]]deeply read in general literature independently of his Tibetan lore, but never did such acquirements centre in one who made such modest use of them.”