TOWN OF CHAIAPUME--JOURNEY TO THE TOWN OF KORAT--THE
PROVINCE OF KORAT--TEMPLE OF PENOM-WAT--RETURN TO
CHAIAPUME--POUKIÉAU--MONANG-MOUNE-WA--NAM-KANE--LOUANG PRABANG,
CAPITAL OF WEST LAOS.
On the 28th February, 1863, I arrived at the town of Chaiapume, and
presented myself before the governor to request his permission to hire
some elephants or oxen to enable me to continue my journey. I showed
him my French passport, and also gave him the letter from Khrom Luang,
and another from the Governor of Korat; but all in vain. He replied
that, if I wanted oxen or elephants, there were plenty in the forest.
I might easily have done without the assistance of this functionary,
and procured animals from people in the village; but they would have
made me pay two or three times the ordinary price, and my purse was too
slenderly filled to allow of my submitting to this extortion, which
would probably be repeated at every station.
RETURN TO BANGKOK.
The only thing left me to do, therefore, was to retrace my steps,
and, leaving one of my servants at Korat with my baggage, to return
to Bangkok and claim aid from the consul, the ministers, or the king
himself; for there is a treaty between the Governments of Siam and
France, concluded by M. de Montigny, which obliges the king to afford
assistance and protection to the French, and especially to missionaries
and naturalists. It was a sad loss of time for me, and might occasion
me serious inconvenience; for, if I were delayed, the rainy season
might surprise me in the midst of the forests before I could reach a
healthier region, and the consequences might be fatal. However, I was
forced to submit, and I returned to Bangkok.
It cost me some time and trouble, and I found it needful to make
some valuable presents before I succeeded in my object; but at last
I obtained more stringent letters to the governors of the provinces
of Laos, and left Bangkok once more, after having experienced for a
fortnight the kind hospitality of my friend Dr. Campbell, one of the
best men I ever met with: his goodness, friendliness, and British
frankness, won my heart and my esteem.
[Illustration:
Drawn by M. Catenacci, from a Photograph.
BUILDING ERECTED AT THE FUNERAL OF THE QUEEN OF SIAM.]
After all this loss of time and great expense I went again to Korat,
where I was well received by the governor; and he gave me, in addition
to my other letters, one for the mandarins of all provinces under his
jurisdiction, commanding them to furnish me with as many oxen and
elephants as I might require. The greater part of the inhabitants,
with Phrai at their head, came out to meet me, and several gave me
presents--sacks of rice, fish, fruits, or tobacco, all in abundance.
Speaking to me of his journey to Korat, Dr. House, the most
enterprising of the American missionaries at Bangkok, and the only
white man who has penetrated so far for many years, told me that he
found everything disappointing. I could have said the same, if, like
him, I had started with any illusions; but I had a good idea of the
forest, which I had already passed at several points, as at Phrabat,
Khao Khoc, and Kenne Khoé, and amidst whose deleterious shades I had
already spent one night. Nor did I expect to find towns amidst its
thick and almost impenetrable masses of foliage, through which one can
distinguish nothing beyond a distance of a few feet.
JOURNEY THROUGH THE FOREST.
I have lately again passed ten successive nights in this forest. During
our journey through it, all the Chinese in the caravan, happy to find
themselves still among the living, at every halting-place hastened
to draw from their baskets an abundance of provisions wherewith to
make a comfortable repast: then choosing, for want of an altar, some
large tree, they laid out their dishes, lighted their matches, burned
a quantity of gilt paper, and, kneeling down, murmured their prayers.
Both on entering and leaving the forest they erected a shed of leaves
and sticks interwoven, and raised upon four bamboo stakes, intended as
a sort of chapel, in which they placed a number of offerings, in order,
as they said, to drive away demons and save them from death.
As for the Laotians, I have found them, although superstitious, very
courageous, especially those who traverse this forest eight or ten
times a year. Some of them even venture to awake the “King of Fire”
by bringing down game or shooting at robbers: yet death, even in the
best season, carries off one or two out of every ten who travel here.
I think the number of those who fall victims to this terrible journey
must be considerable in the rainy season, when every torrent overflows
its bounds; the whole soil is soaked, the pathways nothing but bogs,
and the rice-grounds covered with several feet of water. After five or
six days’ walking through all this, with feet in the mud, the body in a
profuse perspiration, and breathing a fetid atmosphere, hot as a stove
and reeking with putrid miasma, what wonder that many sink and die?
ARRIVAL AT KORAT.
Two Chinese in our caravan arrived at Korat in a frightful state of
fever. One I was able to save by administering quinine in good time,
but the other, who appeared the strongest, was dead almost as soon as I
heard of his being ill.
We halted at five o’clock in the evening and encamped on a little hill,
where, in the absence of grass, our poor oxen could only appease their
hunger with leaves from the shrubs. The river, which flows down from
these hills, is the same which runs near Korat, and on the opposite
bank was encamped another caravan with more than 200 oxen.
TRIBE OF KARIANS.
In a gorge of the mountain, and on the almost inaccessible heights, I
found a small tribe of Karians who formerly inhabited the environs of
Patawi, and who, for the sake of preserving their independence, live
here in seclusion; for the dread of fever prevents the Siamese from
penetrating to their haunts. They have neither temples nor priests;
they raise magnificent crops of rice, and cultivate several kinds of
bananas, which are only found among tribes of the same origin. Many of
the inhabitants of the neighbouring districts appear to be ignorant of
their very existence. It is true they are of migratory habits; others
say that they pay a tribute in gum-lac, but the Governor of Korat and
several chiefs of the province of Saraburi, seemed to me profoundly
ignorant on the subject.
The following morning, an hour before sunrise, after having counted the
oxen dead from fatigue and exhaustion, which would serve for food to
the wild beasts, and repacked our goods, we resumed our march. Towards
eleven o’clock, having quitted Dong Phya Phai, we entered a long tract
of ground filled with brushwood and tall grass and swarming with deer,
and here, before long, we halted near a stream.
The next day, after making a détour of some miles to the north to
find a pass, we ascended a new chain of hills running parallel to the
last, and covered with blocks of sandstone; and here the vegetation
was extremely luxuriant. The air was fresh and pure, and, thanks to
repeated ablutions in the running streams, those of the party whose
feet had suffered most at the beginning of the journey found them
greatly improved.
The monkeys and hornbills began to be heard again, and I killed several
pheasants and peacocks, and an eagle, on which our guides feasted.
Beyond these mountains the soil becomes sandy again and vegetation
scanty. We encamped once more on the banks of the river of Korat,
300 metres from a village dignified by the name of chief town of the
district.
The last range of hills which we crossed still displays itself like a
sombre rampart, above which tower the dome-like and pyramidal summits
of others farther in the distance.
Our guides are all Laotians from the neighbourhood of Korat, and their
leader is unremitting in his care and attention towards me. Every
evening he prepares my place for the night, levelling the ground and
cutting down branches which he covers with leaves, and I am thus
raised from the earth and protected from the dew. These guides lead a
hard life, tramping in all seasons along these wretched roads, having
scarcely time, morning and evening, to swallow a little rice, and
having but little sleep at nights, tormented by ants, and exposed to
the attacks of robbers, against whom they have constantly to be on
their guard.
PROVINCE OF KORAT.
Every day we met one or two caravans of from eighty to a hundred oxen,
laden with stag and panther skins, raw silk from Laos, _langoutis_ of
cotton and silk, peacocks’ tails, ivory, elephants’ bones, and sugar;
but this latter article is scarce.
The country presented much the same kind of aspect for four days after
leaving the forest. We passed through several considerable villages,
in one of which, Sikiéou, are kept six hundred oxen belonging to the
king. The journey from Keng-Koë to Korat occupied ten days. The Chinese
quarter of this latter town contains sixty or seventy houses, built
with bricks dried in the sun, and surrounded by palisades nine feet
high, and as strong as those of a rampart.
TOWN OF KORAT.
These precautions are very necessary, for Korat is a nest of robbers
and assassins, the resort of all the scum of the Laotian and Siamese
races. Bandits and vagrants, escaped from slavery or from prison,
gather here like the vultures and wolves which follow armies and
caravans. It is not that they enjoy complete immunity, for the
governor, son of Bodine, the general who conquered Battambong and the
revolted provinces, is viceroy of the state, has absolute power of
life and death, and is, they say, very severe, cutting off a head or
a hand with little compunction. But still it is Siamese justice, “non
inviola:” there are neither gendarmes nor police; the person robbed
must himself arrest the offender and bring him before the judge. Even
his neighbour will give no assistance in the capture.
It was necessary to look out for a dwelling, and I applied to the
Chinese, hoping to find a house rather larger than the one where Phrai
had settled himself with my luggage, and I had not much difficulty in
doing so.
At the end of the Chinese quarter, which is the bazaar, commences the
town properly so called, which is enclosed by a wall of ferruginous
stone and sandstone, brought from the distant mountain--a work which
I at once recognised as that of the Khmerdôm. Within is the residence
of the governor and those of the other authorities, several pagodas, a
caravanserai, and a number of other houses. A stream of water, eight
metres wide, crosses the town and is bordered by little plantations of
betel and cocoa-nut trees.
The real town of Korat does not contain more than five or six thousand
inhabitants, including six hundred Chinese. The Siamese I found
impertinent and disagreeable, the Chinese friendly and kind. It was
the contrast between civilization and barbarism--between the mass of
vices engendered by idleness, and the good qualities cultivated by
habits of industry. Unfortunately, however, the money acquired by these
indefatigable merchants furnishes the means of gratifying their baneful
propensities, gambling and opium-smoking.
Stretched on a carpet in some shed they lie, thin and
emaciated-looking, playing at cards, or else, plunged in a kind of
lethargy, they surrender themselves to the influence of the seductive
drug in their dark and filthy hovels, lighted only by a single lamp.
Yet, in spite of their gambling, most of them grow rich, though they
generally begin poor, and with goods lent to them by some countryman
from his shop, and a few voyages frequently suffice to make their
fortunes.
The merchants who bring silk, which, though of inferior quality, is
an important article of commerce, come from Laos, Oubone, Bassac, and
Jasoutone.
CONDITION OF THE PROVINCE.
The entire province of Korat comprises a number of villages, and more
than eleven towns, some containing as many as fifty or sixty thousand
inhabitants. This little state is simply tributary, but on condition of
furnishing the first and most considerable levy of men in case of war.
The tribute consists of gold or silver, and in several districts,
amongst others those of Chaiapume and Poukiéan, amounts to eight ticals
a head. Some pay in silk, which is weighed by the mandarins, who, as
with the cardamom at Pursat, and the _langoutis_ at Battambong, buy a
further quantity on their own account, and at their own price.
Elephants are numerous, and a great many are brought from the north
of Laos as far as Muang-Lang. I should think there must be more than
a thousand of these animals in each province. Oxen and buffaloes were
formerly exceedingly cheap, but the distemper, which has for some years
committed great ravages among the herds, has doubled or tripled the
price. They are brought southward from the extreme north of East Laos,
and even from the frontiers of Tonquin.
PENOM-WAT.
I went to see a temple nine miles east of Korat, called Penom-Wat. It
is very remarkable, although much inferior in grandeur and beauty
to those of Ongcor. The second governor lent me a pony and guide,
and, after crossing extensive rice plantations, under a vertical and
fiery sun, we reached the spot to which my curiosity had attracted me,
and which, like an oasis, could be recognised a long way off by the
freshness of its cocoa-trees and its rich verdure. I did not arrive
there, however, without having taken an involuntary bath. In crossing
the Tekon, which is nearly four feet deep, I, in order to escape a
wetting, tried to imitate Franconi, by standing on my saddle; but,
unluckily, according to the custom of the country, this was fastened
on by two pieces of string, and in the middle of the stream it turned
and sent me head foremost into the water. But there was no worse result
from the accident than my having to remain for half an hour afterwards
dressed in Siamese fashion.
[Illustration:
Drawn by M. Catenacci, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.
RUINS AT PAN BRANG, CHAIAPUME.]
Penom-Wat is an interesting temple 36 metres long by 40 wide, and the
plan resembles a cross with tolerable exactness. It is composed of two
pavilions, with vaulted stone roofs and elegant porticoes. The roofs
are from seven to eight metres in height, the gallery three metres wide
in the interior, and the walls a metre thick. At each façade of the
gallery are two windows with twisted bars.
This temple is built of red and grey sandstone, coarse in the grain,
and in some places beginning to decay. On one of the doors is a long
inscription, and above are sculptures representing nearly the same
subjects as those at Ongcor and Bassette.
In one of the pavilions are several Buddhist idols in stone, the
largest of which is 2 metres 50 centimetres high, and actually covered
with rags.
You might here easily imagine yourself among the ruins of Ongcor.
There is the same style of architecture, the same taste displayed, the
same immense blocks polished like marble, and so beautifully fitted
together, that I can only compare it to the joining and planing of so
many planks.
The whole building is, without doubt, the work of the Khmerdôm, and not
an imitation, and must be as old as the illustrious reigns which have
left the traces of their grandeur in different parts of the empire.
The exterior is not equal to the interior. Penom was the temple of the
Queen, so say the Siamese; that of the King, her husband, is at Pimaïe,
a district about 30 miles east of Korat.
To consult any existing maps of Indo-China for my guidance in the
interior of Laos would have been a folly, no traveller, at least to my
knowledge, having penetrated into east Laos, or published any authentic
information respecting it. To question the natives about places more
than a degree distant would have been useless. My desire was to reach
Louang-Prabang by land, to visit the northern tribes dependent on
that state, and then again to descend the Mekong to Cambodia. Setting
out from Korat, I had but to proceed northwards as long as I found
practicable roads and inhabited places; and if I could not go by a
direct route to Louang-Prabang, I should only have to diverge to the
east when I judged it necessary.
RETURN TO CHAIAPUME.
I was again delayed a few days at Korat before I could obtain
elephants, in consequence of the absence of the viceroy; but on his
return he received me in a friendly manner, and gave me a letter of
introduction to the governors of the provinces under his jurisdiction.
He likewise furnished me with two elephants for myself and servants,
and two others for my baggage; so at last I was able to set out for
Chaiapume. Before I started, the Chinese with whom I lodged gave me
the following advice:--“Buy a tam-tam, and, wherever you halt, sound
it. They will say, ‘Here is an officer of the king;’ robbers will keep
aloof, and the authorities will respect you. If this does not answer,
the only plan to get rid of all the difficulties which the Laotian
officials will be sure to throw in your way is to have a good stick,
the longer the better. Try it on the back of any mandarin who makes the
least resistance and will not do what you wish. Put all delicacy aside.
Laos is not like a country of the whites. Follow my advice, and you
will find it good.”
I was, however, much better received on my second visit to Chaiapume,
and required neither tam-tam nor cane. The sight of the elephants and
the order from the viceroy of Korat made the mandarin as supple as a
glove, and he provided me with other elephants for a visit to some
ruins existing about 3 leagues north of the town, at the foot of a
mountain. The superstitious Laotians say that these ruins contain
gold, but that every one who has sought for it has been struck with
madness.
JOURNEY TO POUKIEAN.
Two roads lead from Chaiapume to Poukiéan; the first, across the
mountains, is so excessively difficult, that I decided on taking
the other, which, however, is much longer. The first day we started
at 1 o’clock, and reached a village named Non Jasiea, where we were
overtaken by a fearful storm. We sheltered ourselves as well as we
could, and arrived before night at the entrance of a forest where we
slept.
For five days we were compelled to remain in the forest on account of
the weather; it rained great part of the day, and throughout the night;
the torrents overflowed, and the earth was nothing but a sea of mud. I
never in my life passed such wretched nights, as all the time we had to
remain with our wet clothes on our backs, and I cannot describe what we
suffered. The snow hurricanes, so frequent in Russia, and which nearly
killed me when in that country, seemed trifling miseries in comparison.
My poor Phrai was seized with a dreadful fever two days before reaching
Poukiéan, and I myself felt very ill.
The passage of the mountains was easy, and the ascent very gradual;
blocks of stone obstruct the road in various parts, but our oxen and
elephants made their way without much difficulty. I had bought a horse
for myself at Korat.
The vegetation, though not thick, is beautiful: the trees, many of
which are resinous, are slender, the stems being seldom more than
a foot or two in diameter, and often 25, 30, and even 40 metres in
height. Under their shade are to be seen great numbers of deer, and
tigers are not uncommonly met with. In the mountains are many elephants
and rhinoceros. We found immense beds of stone, and in some places saw
small brick buildings containing idols. During the journey one of my
chests was thrown to the ground by the movements of the elephant, and
broken to pieces, as, unfortunately, were all the contents, consisting
of instruments, and bottles of spirit of wine containing serpents and
fishes.
POUKIEAN.
Poukiéan is a smaller village than Chaiapume. I met with a friendly
reception from the governor, who had just returned from Korat, and had
heard of my intended journey. Poverty and misery reign here; we cannot
find even a fish to purchase; nothing but rice; and as soon as my
faithful Phrai is on his legs again we shall leave the place.
Tine-Tine attracts the most attention. The people do not, as we pass,
cry out first, “Look at the white stranger,” but “A little dog!” and
every one runs to see this curiosity. My turn comes afterwards.
In these mountains the Laotians make offerings to the local genii of
sticks and stones.
The same chain of hills which, from the banks of the Menam, in the
province of Saraburi, extends on one side to the southern extremity
of the peninsula, on the other encircles Cambodia like a belt, runs
along the shores of the gulf, and forms a hundred islands; stretches
directly northwards, continually increasing in size, and spreading
its ramifications towards the east, where they form a hundred narrow
valleys, the streams flowing through which empty themselves into the
Mekong.
The rains had commenced on my second entrance into Dong Phya Phai, and
I was greeted by a perfect deluge, which continued with intervals of
two or three days; but this did not stop me, although I had to pass
through a country still more to be dreaded than this forest, and where
no one goes willingly.
[Illustration:
Drawn by M. Bocourt, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot
ELEPHANTS BATHING.]
THE ELEPHANT.
In all this mountainous region elephants are the only means of
transport. Every village possesses some, several as many as fifty or
a hundred. Without this intelligent animal no communication would be
possible during seven months of the year, while, with his assistance,
there is scarcely a place to which you cannot penetrate.
The elephant ought to be seen on these roads, which I can only call
devil’s pathways, and are nothing but ravines, ruts two or three feet
deep, full of mud; sometimes sliding with his feet close together on
the wet clay of the steep slopes, sometimes half buried in mire, an
instant afterwards mounted on sharp rocks, where one would think a
Blondin alone could stand; striding across enormous trunks of fallen
trees, crushing down the smaller trees and bamboos which oppose his
progress, or lying down flat on his stomach that the cornacs (drivers)
may the easier place the saddle on his back; a hundred times a day
making his way, without injuring them, between trees where there
is barely room to pass; sounding with his trunk the depth of the
water in the streams or marshes; constantly kneeling down and rising
again, and never making a false step. It is necessary, I repeat, to
see him at work like this in his own country, to form any idea of
his intelligence, docility, and strength, or how all those wonderful
joints of his are adapted to their work--fully to understand that this
colossus is no rough specimen of nature’s handiwork, but a creature of
especial amiability and sagacity, designed for the service of man.
We must not, however, exaggerate his merits. Probably the saddles used
by the Laotians are capable of great improvement; but I must admit that
the load of three small oxen, that is to say, about 250 or 300 pounds,
is all that I ever saw the largest elephants carry easily, and 18 miles
is the longest distance they can accomplish with an ordinary load. Ten
or twelve miles are the usual day’s work. With four, five, or sometimes
seven elephants, I travelled over all the mountain country from the
borders of Laos to Louang-Prabang, a distance of nearly 500 miles.
[Illustration:
Drawn by M. Bocourt, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.
CARAVAN OF ELEPHANTS CROSSING THE MOUNTAINS OF LAOS.]
All this eastern portion, with the exception of a few villages filled
with “black-bellied savages”--so called from the manner in which they
tattoo themselves--is inhabited by the same race, the “white-bellied
Laotians,” who call themselves Laos, and are known by this name to all
the Siamese, Chinese, and surrounding nations.
WESTERN LAOTIANS.
The black-bellied or western Laotians are called by their eastern
brethren by the same name which, in Siam and Cambodia, is bestowed on
the Annamites, Zuène, Lao-Zuène. The only thing that distinguishes
them is, that they tattoo the under part of the body, principally the
thighs, and frequently wear the hair long and knotted on the top of
their heads. Their language is nearly the same, and differs little
from the Siamese and Eastern Laos, except in the pronunciation, and in
certain expressions no longer in use among the former.
I soon found that, but for the letter from the governor of Korat, I
should have met everywhere with the same reception as at Chaiapume;
however, this missive was very positively worded. Wherever I went, the
authorities were ordered to furnish me with elephants, and supply me
with all necessary provisions, as if I were a king’s envoy. I was much
amused to see these petty provincial chiefs executing the orders of my
servants, and evidently in dread lest, following the Siamese custom, I
should use the stick.
One of my men, to give himself importance, had tied one of these
bugbears to the arms which he carried, and the sight of it alone
sufficed, with the sound of the tam-tam, to inspire fear, whilst small
presents judiciously distributed, and a little money to the cornacs,
procured me the sympathy of the people.
SUFFERINGS OF TRAVELLERS.
Most of the villages are situated about a day’s journey from one
another, but frequently you have to travel for three or four days
without seeing a single habitation, and then you have no alternative
but to sleep in the jungle. This might be pleasant in the dry season,
but, during the rains, nothing can give an idea of the sufferings
of travellers at night, under a miserable shelter of leaves hastily
spread over a rough framework of branches, assaulted by myriads of
mosquitoes attracted by the light of the fires and torches, by legions
of ox-flies, which, after sunset, attack human beings as well as
elephants, and by fleas so minute as to be almost invisible, which
assemble about you in swarms, and whose bites are excessively painful,
and raise enormous blisters.
To these enemies add the leeches, which, after the least rain, come
out of the ground, scent a man twenty feet off, and hasten to suck his
blood with wonderful avidity. To coat your legs with a layer of lime
when travelling is the only way to prevent them covering your whole
body.
I had left Bangkok on the 12th of April, and on the 16th of May I
reached Leuye, the chief town of a district belonging to two provinces,
Petchaboune and Lôme. It is situated in a narrow valley, like all the
towns and villages through which I have passed since I left Chaiapume.
[Illustration:
Drawn by M. Thérond, from a Photograph.
“PARK” OF ELEPHANTS, EXTERNAL VIEW.]
MINERALS.
This is the district of Siam richest in minerals; one of its mountains
contains immense beds of magnetic iron of a remarkably good quality.
Others yield antimony, argentiferous copper, and tin. The iron only
is worked, and this population, half agriculturists, half artisans,
furnish spades and cutlasses to all the surrounding provinces, even
beyond Korat. Yet they have neither foundries nor steam-engines, and
it is curious to see how little it costs an iron-worker to establish
himself in a hole about a yard and a half square hollowed out close to
the mountain.
They pile up and smelt the mineral with charcoal: the liquified iron
deposits itself in the bottom of the cavity, and there hollows out a
bed, whence they withdraw it when the operation is completed, and carry
it home. There, in another cavity they make a fire, which a child keeps
alive by means of a couple of bellows, which are simply two trunks of
hollow trees buried in the ground, and upon which play alternately two
stopples surrounded by cotton. These are fixed to a small board, and
have long sticks for handles, to which are attached two bamboo hollow
canes which conduct the air into the cavity.
In several localities I discovered auriferous sand, but only in small
quantity. In some of the villages the inhabitants employ their leisure
time in searching for gold, but they told me that they hardly gained by
this work sufficient to pay for the rice they ate.
In this journey I have passed through sixty villages, numbering from
twenty to fifty houses each; and six small towns, with a population of
from four to six hundred inhabitants. I have made a map of all this
part of the country.
RIVERS.
Since leaving Korat I have crossed five large rivers which fall into
the Mekon, the bed of which is more or less full according to the
season. The first of these, 35 metres wide, is called the Menam Chie,
lat. 15° 45′; second, the Menam Leuye, 90 metres wide, lat. 18° 3′;
third, the Menam Ouan, at Kenne-Tao, 100 metres in width, lat. 18° 35′;
fourth, the Nam Pouye, 60 metres, lat. 19°; fifth, the Nam-Houn, 80 or
100 metres wide, lat. 20°.
The Chie is navigable, as far up as the latitude of Korat, from May
to December; the Leuye, the Ouan, and the Houn are only navigable for
a very short distance on account of their numerous rapids; neither is
there any water-communication between the Menam and the Mekon in Laos
or Cambodia, the mountains which separate them forming insurmountable
obstacles to cutting canals.
The Laotians much resemble the Siamese: a different pronunciation and
slow manner of speech being all that distinguishes their language. The
women wear petticoats, and keep their hair long, which, when combed,
gives the younger ones a more interesting appearance than those have
who live on the banks of the Menam; but, at an advanced age, with their
unkempt locks thrown negligently over one temple, and their immense
goîtres, which they admire, they are repulsively ugly.
[Illustration:
Drawn by M. Bocourt, from a Photograph.
LAOTIAN GIRLS.]
Little commerce is carried on in this part of Laos. The Chinese
inhabiting Siam do not come as far, owing to the enormous expense of
transporting all their merchandise on elephants. Nearly every year
a caravan arrives from Yunnan and Quangsee, composed of about a
hundred persons and several hundred mules. Some go to Kenne Thao,
others to M. Nâne and Chieng Maï. They arrive in February, and leave in
March or April.
The mulberry does not thrive in these mountains; but in some localities
this tree is cultivated for the sake of furnishing food to a particular
insect which lives upon its leaves, and from which is obtained the
lague or Chinese varnish.
All the gum-benzoin which is sold at Bangkok comes from the northern
extremity of the state of Louang Prabang, and from a district tributary
both to Cochin China and Siam, and peopled rather by Tonquinites than
Laotians.
PAKLAIE--THE MEKON.
On the 24th of June I arrived at Paklaïe, lat. 19° 16′ 58″, the first
small town on my northward route. It is situated on the Mekon, and is a
charming place; the inhabitants seem well off; the houses elegant and
spacious,--larger, indeed, than I have seen before in this country;
and everything betokens a degree of prosperity which I have also
remarked wherever I have stopped since. The Mekon at this place is
much larger than the Menam at Bangkok, and forces its way between the
lofty mountains with a noise resembling the roaring of the sea and the
impetuosity of a torrent, seeming scarcely able to keep within its bed.
There are many rapids between Paklaïe and Louang Prabang, which is ten
or fifteen days’ painful travelling.
I was tired of my long journey on elephants, and was anxious to hire
a boat here, but the chief and some of the inhabitants, fearing that I
might meet with some accident, advised me to continue my route by land.
I therefore proceeded as far as Thadua, ninety miles farther north,
and during eight days passed through much the same style of country as
before, changing one valley for another, and crossing mountains which
became more and more elevated, and being more than ever annoyed by the
leeches. We were, however, no longer compelled to sleep in the jungle,
for every evening we reached some hamlet or village, where we found
shelter either in a pagoda or caravanserai.
PREVALENCE OF GOÎTRE.
As among the Grisons or the mountains of the Valais, the whole
population, from Dong Phya Phai to this district, who drink the water
of the mountain rivulets, are disfigured by immense goîtres; but the
men are not so subject to them as the women, who rarely escape.
I have only passed through one village where any serious ravages are
committed by the tigers. There is one danger, which may be serious,
incident to travelling with elephants in a region like this. Usually,
among the caravan there are one or two females, followed by their
young, who run about from one side to another, playing or browsing. Now
and then one of them stumbles and falls into a ravine, and immediately
the whole troop jump down after him to draw him out.
In a letter which I wrote from Cambodia I described the Mekon river as
imposing, but monotonous and unpicturesque; but in this part of the
country it presents a very different appearance. Where it is narrowest
the width is above 1000 metres, and it everywhere runs between lofty
mountains, down whose sides flow torrents, all bringing their tribute.
There is almost an excess of grandeur. The eye rests constantly on
these mountain slopes, clothed in the richest and thickest verdure.
LOUANG PRABANG.
On the 25th of July I reached Louang Prabang, a delightful little town,
covering a square mile of ground, and containing a population, not, as
Mgr. Pallegoix says in his work on Siam, of 80,000, but of 7000 or 8000
only. The situation is very pleasant. The mountains which, above and
below this town, enclose the Mekon, form here a kind of circular valley
or amphitheatre, nine miles in diameter, and which, there can be no
doubt, was anciently a lake. It was a charming picture, reminding one
of the beautiful lakes of Como and Geneva. Were it not for the constant
blaze of a tropical sun, or if the mid-day heat were tempered by a
gentle breeze, the place would be a little paradise.
The town is built on both banks of the stream, though the greater
number of the houses are built on the left bank. The most considerable
part of the town surrounds an isolated mount, more than a hundred
metres in height, at the top of which is a pagoda.
Were they not restrained by fear of the Siamese, and their horror of
the jungles so prolific of death, this principality would soon fall
into the hands of the Annamites, who now dare not advance nearer than
seven days’ journey off. A beautiful stream, 100 metres wide, unites
with the great river to the north-east of the town, and leads to some
Laotian and savage villages bearing the name of _Fie_. These are no
other than the tribes called _Penoms_ by the Cambodians, _Khu_ by the
Siamese, and _Moï_ by the Annamites,--all words simply signifying
“savages.”
MOUNTAIN TRIBES.
The whole chain of mountains which extends from the north of Tonquin
to the south of Cochin China, about 100 miles north of Saigon, is
inhabited by this primitive people, divided into tribes speaking
different dialects, but whose manners and customs are the same. All the
villages in the immediate neighbourhood are tributary; those nearest to
the town supply workmen for buildings erected for the king and princes,
and these are heavily taxed. Others pay their tribute in rice.
Their habitations are in the thickest parts of the forests, where they
only can find a path. Their cultivated grounds are to be seen on the
tops and sides of the mountains; in fact, they employ the same means as
wild animals to escape from their enemies, and to preserve that liberty
and independence which are to them, as to all God’s creatures, their
supreme good.
Yesterday, and the day previous, I was presented to the princes who
govern this little state, and who bear the title of kings. I know not
why, but they displayed for my benefit all they could devise of pomp
and splendour.
The Laotians of Leuye appear to me more industrious than the Siamese,
and, above all, possess a much more adventurous and mercantile spirit;
and although, both physically and morally, there are great points of
resemblance, yet there exist shades of difference which distinguish
them at once, and are apparent in their dialect, or rather patois,
and in their manners, which are more simple and affable. They are all
much alike in features; the women have round faces, small noses, large
almond-shaped eyes, thick hair, the mouth large and strongly-marked;
but the men do not exhibit so great a diversity of race as they do in
Siam.
Alas! what a journey my fragile collection of specimens, so difficult
to gather together, has still to take, and what various accidents may
befall them! Those who in museums contemplate the works of Nature do
not think of all the perseverance, trouble, and anxiety required before
they are safely brought home.
THE LAOTIANS.
The Laotians have not the curiosity of the Siamese, and ask me fewer
questions. I find them more intelligent than either the latter race or
the Cambodians, and among the villagers especially there is a curious
mixture of cunning and simplicity. They do not as yet seem to me to
merit their reputation for hospitality,--a virtue which appeared to be
much more practised in Siam. I should never have obtained any means
of conveyance without the letter from the Viceroy of Korat, and my
experience has been that they are less respectful, but at the same time
less importunate, than the Siamese.
The ground between Leuye and Kenne Thao is hilly, but traversed without
difficulty. The formations are calcareous rocks, sandstone, slaty
sandstone, and lime mixed with clay; the sandstone in long beds, not
in blocks. In the streams I found stones, not boulders, but with sharp
angles.
The Chinese and Indians alone traffic here; it requires a day’s journey
to conclude the smallest bargain, and a whole village is assembled to
make sure that the money is not spurious. On my route here I have not
met a single Siamese, but in every village have seen Birmans, Kariens,
and people from Western Laos. I have found men in Lao-Pouene moulded
like athletes and of herculean strength, and thought that the King of
Siam might raise in this province a fine regiment of grenadiers. In
all the villages I have visited, the inhabitants, including even the
priests, set to work to collect insects for me, glad to receive in
return a few copper buttons, glass beads, or a little red cloth.
At Paklaïe, which I have already mentioned as a pretty town, I had
the pleasure of again seeing the beautiful stream, which now seems to
me like an old friend: I have so long drunk of its waters, it has so
long either cradled me on its bosom or tried my patience, at one time
flowing majestically among the mountains, at another muddy and yellow
as the Arno at Florence.
ROAD FROM KENNE THAO TO PAKLAÏE.
The road between Kenne Thao and Paklaïe is dreadful. You have to force
your way along a narrow path, through a thick jungle, and sometimes
there is no path at all, or else it is obstructed by bamboos and
branches which interlace and often catch hold of your saddle. Every
moment you are in danger of being hurt by them; our hands and faces
were covered with scratches, and my clothes torn to pieces.
Muang-Moune-Wa.--This place is surrounded by mountains. I am very
feverish and tremble with cold, although the thermometer shows 80
degrees of heat. I am getting tired of these people, a race of
children, heartless and unenergetic. I sigh and look everywhere for
a man, and cannot find one; here all tremble at the stick, and the
enervating climate makes them incredibly apathetic.
15th August, 1861.--Nam Kane. A splendid night; the moon shines with
extraordinary brilliancy, silvering the surface of this lovely river,
bordered by high mountains, looking like a grand and gloomy rampart.
The chirp of the crickets alone breaks the stillness. In my little
cottage all is calm and tranquil; the view from my window is charming,
but I cannot appreciate or enjoy it. I am sad and anxious; I long for
my native land, for a little life; to be always alone weighs on my
spirits.
LOUANG PRABANG.
Louang Prabang, 29th August, 1861.--My third servant, Song, whom I
had engaged at Pakpriau, begged me to allow him to return to Bangkok
in the suite of the Prince of Louang Prabang, who was going there to
pay tribute. I did all I could to induce him to remain with me, but he
seemed to have made up his mind to go; so I paid him his wages, and
gave him a letter authorising him to receive a further sum at Bangkok
for the time occupied by his return journey.
DEPARTURE OF SONG.
Same date. Song is gone. How changeable we are! He was always
complaining of cold or had some other grievance, and I cared less
for him than for my other servants--but then I had not had him long.
Yesterday, however, when he asked permission to go, I was vexed. Either
he has really suffered much here from illness, or has not been happy
with me; perhaps both. I hired a boat to take him to the town, and my
good Phrai accompanied him there this morning, and recommended him from
me to a mandarin whom I knew. I gave him all that was necessary for his
journey, even if it lasts three months, and on his arrival at Bangkok
he will receive his money. On taking leave he prostrated himself before
me; I took hold of his hands and raised him up, and then he burst into
tears. And I, in my turn, when I had bid him farewell, felt my eyes
fill, nor do I know when I shall be quite calm, for I have before me,
day and night, the poor lad, ill in the woods, among indifferent or
cruel people. He has a great dread of fever, and, if he had been taken
ill here and died, I should have reproached myself for keeping him; and
yet, if it were to come over again, I almost fancy I would not yield
to his desire to leave me. He was confided to me by the good Father
Larmandy. May God protect the poor boy, and preserve him from all
sickness and accidents during his journey!
[Illustration:
Drawn by M. Janet Lange, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.
RECEPTION OF M. MOUHOT BY THE KINGS OF LAOS.]
I reached Louang Prabang on the 25th of July. On the 3rd of August I
was presented to the King and to his cousin. On the 9th of August I
left Louang Prabang and travelled eastwards.
THE TEMPERATURE.
26th.--The thermometer rose to 92° Fahr. This is the maximum I have
noted this month, 71° being the minimum.