On the 2nd July, having taken our usual morning repast of rice, we were ready to set off, and were only waiting for the waggons and elephants promised me by the king. They were not long in arriving, and we passed through the city amidst an immense crowd of people who had come from all quarters to witness our departure. We were mounted on our elephants, and escorted by several of the royal pages as far as the road to PinhalÚ; all the population prostrating themselves as before the king, doubtless because he had paid me such marked attention.

We proceeded, at the rate of about three miles an hour, on a good road, which was in some places raised more than ten feet above the level of the wooded but marshy plain which extends to the great arm of the Mekon.

Now and then we crossed handsome bridges built of stone or wood, which certainly give a more favourable idea of the state of engineering in Cambodia than in Siam; for, even at Bangkok, the streams and canals are spanned by thin, narrow planks, or by trunks of trees thrown across by the inhabitants, and not by the authorities.

About two kilometres from Udong is a sort of rampart formed of earth, in the form of a horseshoe. It environs a portion of the town, and was intended to defend the place in case of an invasion by the Annamites, an event which is yearly looked for at the time of the floods.

We met many pedestrians laden, probably, with provisions for the market. The road is bordered with miserable bamboo huts, like poultry-houses, raised on piles, which serve for dwellings for the unlucky ThiÂmes, who were transported here by the king, a twelvemonth since, from the plains to the east of the Mekon, as a punishment for an attempted revolt which they were accused of.

We arrived early the same day at PinhalÚ, a village of some size, situated on the right bank of the stream, many of the inhabitants of which are the descendants of Portuguese and Annamite refugees. It is the residence of a French bishop, Monsignor Miche, Vicar-apostolic of the mission to Cambodia and Laos. He was absent, but I found three good and benevolent missionaries, who begged me to wait for his return, and received me in that cordial and affectionate manner which is so pleasant to meet with in a strange land, and especially from fellow-countrymen. M. Fontaine, the eldest of the three, though still in the prime of life, had been a missionary for nearly twenty years. He was formerly attached to the mission at Cochin China, and I had seen him on my visit to Bangkok, where he remained some time before going to Cambodia. He was then feeble and suffering, but I was glad now to find him stronger and full of animation. I felt a true respect for this worthy man; may there be many labourers in the same vocation resembling him!

The second priest, M. Arnoux, was not only a fellow-countryman, but our birthplaces were only distant from each other a few leagues. He was born in the department of Russey, and I in that of MontbÉliard (Doubs), so that I had two reasons for being drawn towards him. He belongs to the Cochin China mission, and had come from among the savage StiÊns to renew his stock of provisions; but, having been attacked by dysentery, owing to the fatigue of the journey, he had been unable to return. These two valiant soldiers of the Church, with good and pure hearts, iron wills, and the energy and courage of heroes, or, rather, of martyrs, had formerly lived together, at a distant station, among the savage Benous, and had suffered there terribly from fevers, dysentery, scurvy, and other diseases. Among the fifty Annamites who were with them in that refuge of Christianity, there frequently was not a single one able to cook their rice, all being in the hospital. On hearing these brave and worthy sons of our dear country describe their past and present misery, I was sometimes as much amused as affected, with so much liveliness was the narration given; but it is the characteristic of our dauntless nation that her sons suffer and die gaily, and with smiles on their lips.

Four days flew by rapidly in the society of these friends, by whom I was detained till the return of their bishop, whose acquaintance I much desired to make. I knew that I should find in him a man of very superior character; but I did not expect to find in this eminent missionary a simplicity and humility equal to his talents and strength of mind. Monsignor Miche is short and slight; but under his frail exterior exist extraordinary energy and endurance. The annals of the Cochin China mission, as well as of that to Cambodia, must contain many a page filled with the noble actions of this distinguished pioneer of Christianity, and with the persecution and captivity he has suffered. When a simple missionary, he and one of his companions were imprisoned and beaten with rods—a fearful punishment, which, at each blow, cut open the flesh and made the blood flow. They were then conducted to their cells, in order that the torture might be repeated on the following day, when their wounds were beginning to heal, for the Annamites are skilled in the refinements of cruelty.

“The suffering is dreadful,” said his companion to M. Miche; “I do not believe I can bear it a second time.”

“Be easy,” he replied; “I will ask to receive your blows for you.” He did request this, and actually did receive them.

Here the missionary is everything to the poor Christians, physician to the body as well as the soul; and every day he passes hours in listening to their disputes, and acting as peacemaker.

The rule here is, that if a man cannot pay a debt, he and his family become the slaves of the creditor. “You are my slave,” said a person to a young girl whom he met.

“How so? I do not know you.”

“Your father owed me money, and never paid me.”

“I never knew my father; he died before I was born.”

“Will you go to law?”

“Yes.”

The man then consulted some mandarin, gave him a present, promised him others, won his cause, and the unfortunate girl, having no means to do the same, became a slave. It is the story of Appius and Virginia reproduced in the East. Corruption and barbarity are general in Cambodia.

I now determined to visit the savage tribes living to the east of the great river, 104° east long. from Paris, and of whom I had heard M. Arnoux speak; he had promised me a welcome from M. Guilloux, the missionary there. I sent Niou back to Udong to ask the king for the letter he had promised. He soon returned with it in due form, and on the 22nd July I quitted PinhalÚ in a small boat with two rowers, which I hired as far as PemptiÉlan, situated on the Mekon river, about forty miles to the north of PÉnom-Peuh.

Ever since I had been in Cambodia my servants had been in a state of alarm, and it reached its height when I informed them that we were about to set out on an expedition to the savage tribes. Cambodia is much dreaded by the Siamese: and the mountains, and, still more, the forests, inhabited by the StiÊns, have a reputation for unhealthiness, among both Cambodians and Annamites, equal to that which, in France, is enjoyed by Cayenne, whither condemned political offenders and malefactors from the galleys are sent to die. I doubt very much if I could have met with any other men who would have remained with me.

On descending the great arm of the Mekon, which is here 1200 metres wide, I was astonished at seeing the current running from south to north instead of following the course of the river into which it falls. The banks of this river are peopled by the same race of ThiÂmes whom I saw on my route from Udong to PinhalÚ.

The ThiÂmes are the same as the ancient Tsiampois; but these Tsiampois, whence came they? What is the origin of this strange people, whom the conquests of the Annamites drove back, doubtless from the south of Cochin China to Cambodia, but who form alliances with neither of the races whose country they share, and who preserve their own language, manners, and religion? On looking over the Life of the AbbÉ Gagelin, one of the martyrs in Cochin China, written with talent and eloquence by the learned AbbÉ Jacquenet, I found what I had long been in search of, and I extract the following passage:—

“In the midst of Cochin China properly so called, between the seas which surround it on all sides except on the west, where it touches Cambodia, is the ancient kingdom of Tsiampa. The inhabitants are a singular race; they never ally themselves with the Cochin Chinese, their character, religion, and language raising insuperable barriers between them. On submitting to the yoke of the conqueror, the sovereign simply changed his title from king to mandarin, but the constitution and ancient laws remained in full vigour in his states, and he continued to exercise absolute authority over his subjects.[16] It is difficult for strangers to observe the domestic life of these people; but it is said that they practise circumcision, observe the Sabbath, abstain from the flesh of pork, and offer the sacrifice of the red calf.[17] It is even said that they possess the Pentateuch, but this I dare not affirm. Strangely, however, all these observances, imitated no one knows whence, are only vain ceremonies to these men, enigmas to which they have lost the clue. They have not even retained a distinct idea of the true God; and their worship, although mixed up with some of the rites of the Mosaic law, is a real idolatry. One wonders whence come this people. Are they an ancient colony of Ishmaelites or Idumeans? Are they an offshoot of Judaism thrown on to these shores? These questions are worthy of consideration. However it may be, their care to preserve their traditions pure from all alloy, and their obstinate persistence in error, render them worthy of a Jewish origin. The Jews, in the days of their prosperity, did not guard their faith more religiously than do these people theirs in their new Palestine; and, in order to avoid intercourse with strangers, and escape the proselyting efforts of the missionaries, they have relinquished to the Cochin Chinese all the advantages of the seashore, and retired to the mountains and the interior of the country.

“On the eve of the Assumption I bent my steps towards the interior, to visit the Tsiampois, and find out whether they would still reject the good news of salvation. After a few days’ walking I arrived, I dare not say at one of their towns, but at one of their principal dwelling-places. These singular people have retained none of the power ascribed to them by ancient tradition, according to which they have held sway over Cambodia, Cochin China, Tong King, and even Pegu, as far as the province of Canton. Their governor has to pay a small tribute, but remains as much ruler over his own people as before the conquest.

“I was anxious to find out the truth about their religion, but could only obtain scraps of tradition which a Christian could manage to put into form. One of these traditions teaches that the founder of their religion was a great man, a famous warrior, who worked marvels with a rod which is carefully preserved among them. I had the signal honour of being allowed to see it: it is about ten feet long, and is covered with a kind of red stuff, studded with yellow stars, having at one end an iron blade about an inch in length. With this rod in his hand, the founder of their faith controlled the elements, divided the waters, and calmed tempests; and it is pretended that this instrument still preserves its virtue of working miracles. They have, they say, a precious volume left them by this great chief. Their religious practices consist in the scrupulous observance of a seventh day of rest, in abstaining from certain food, especially pork, which they hold in abhorrence, and in the rite of circumcision which the male children undergo at the age of fifteen. When the girls arrive at the same age, the hair over the forehead is cut. They preserve a remembrance of certain days on which it was not lawful to work, nor even to leave their houses before sunset. Their prayers end with the word ‘Amin,’ much the same as the Amen of the Hebrews. They seem to have lost the idea of a Creator of heaven and earth, but worship the sky and the stars; there are, however, no idols in their temples. The priests who officiate there light candles on a table, burn incense, and, at certain times of the year, as in April and May, pass a month without going out of doors. Clear away from this account,” says the AbbÉ Jacquenet, “the mists of ages, and it is easy to recognise the traces of an Israelitish origin. Comparing this with other missionary accounts, and the traces of these people found elsewhere, who will doubt that the torch of truth, which shone formerly between the great sea and Jordan, also shed its light over the extreme East? Whether, to explain these facts, we consider the commercial relations of the Jews with these countries, particularly when, in the height of their power, the combined fleets of Solomon and Hiram went to seek the treasures of Ophir (a generic name used perhaps to designate the two Indies), or whether we come lower down, to the dispersion of the Ten Tribes, who, instead of returning from captivity, set out from the banks of the Euphrates and reached the shores of the ocean—whatever ground of explanation we resolve upon, the shining of the light of revelation in the far East is not the less incontestable. Join to this light, those traditional truths carried with them as a sacred heritage by the families who were dispersed at Babel; and say what becomes of the extravagant praises lavished on Eastern wisdom by the sect of philosophers? Passion and presumptuous ignorance joining hands tried to oppose wisdom from on high, and have left behind only a faint reflection of it.”