A knowledge of Sanscrit, of “Pali,” and of some modern languages of Hindostan and Indo-China, would be the only means of arriving at the origin of the ancient people of Cambodia who have left all these traces of their civilization, and that of their successors, who appear only to have known how to destroy, never to reconstruct. Until some learned archÆologist shall devote himself to this subject, it is not probable that aught but contradictory speculations will be promulgated. Some day, however, the truth will surely appear and put them all to flight. I myself, having nothing but conjecture to rest upon, advance my own theory with diffidence.

Nokhor has been the centre and capital of a wealthy, powerful, and civilized state, and in this assertion I do not fear contradiction from those who have any knowledge of its gigantic ruins. Now, for a country to be rich and powerful, a produce relatively great and an extended commerce must be presumed. Doubtless, Cambodia was formerly thus favoured, and would be so at the present day under a wise government, if labour and agriculture were encouraged instead of despised, if the ruling powers exercised a less absolute despotism, and, above all, if slavery were abolished—that miserable institution which is a bar to all progress, reduces man to the level of the brute, and prevents him from cultivating more than sufficient for his own actual wants.[2]

The greater part of the land is surprisingly fertile, and the rice of Battambong is superior to that of Cochin China. The forests yield precious gums, gum-lac, gamboge, cardamoms, and many others, as well as some useful resins. They likewise produce most valuable timber, both for home use and for exportation, and dye-woods in great variety. The mines afford gold, iron, and copper.

Fruits and vegetables of all kinds abound, and game is in great profusion. Above all, the great lake is a source of wealth to the whole nation; the fish in it are so incredibly abundant that when the water is high they are actually crushed under the boats, and the play of the oars is frequently impeded by them. The quantities taken there every year by a number of enterprising Cochin Chinese are literally miraculous. The river of Battambong is not less plentifully stocked, and I have seen a couple of thousand taken in one net.

Neither must I omit to mention the various productions which form so important a part of the riches of a nation, and which might be here cultivated in the greatest perfection. I would especially instance cotton, coffee, indigo, tobacco, and the mulberry, and such spices as nutmegs, cloves, and ginger. Even now all these are grown to a certain limited extent, and are allowed to be of superior quality. Sufficient cotton is raised to supply all Cochin China, and to allow of some being exported to China itself. From the little island of Ko-Sutin alone, leased to the planters by the King of Cambodia, the transport of the cotton produce employs a hundred vessels. What might not be accomplished if these were colonies belonging to a country such, for example, as England, and were governed as are the dependencies of that great and generous nation?

Battambong and Korat are renowned for their silken “langoutis” of brilliant and varied colours, both the material and the dyes being the produce of the country.

A glance at the map of Cambodia suffices to show that it communicates with the sea by the numerous mouths of the Mekong and the numberless canals of Lower Cochin China, which was formerly subject to it; with Laos and with China, by the great river.

These facts being established, whence came the original inhabitants of this country? Was it from India, the cradle of civilization, or was it from China? The language of the present natives is that of the old Cambodians or Khendome, as they call the people who live retired at the foot of the mountains and on the table-lands, and it is too distinct from Chinese to render the latter supposition possible. But whether this people originally came from the north or from the west, by sea, and gradually making their way up the rivers, or from the land, and descending them, it seems certain that there must have been here other ancient settlers, who introduced Buddhism and civilization. It would appear as though these had been succeeded by some barbarous race, who drove the original inhabitants far into the interior, and destroyed many of their buildings. At all events, it is my belief that, without exaggeration, the date of some of the oldest parts of Ongcor the Great may be fixed at more than 2000 years ago, and the more recent portions not much later. The state of decay of many of these structures would indicate even a greater age; but they probably date from the dispersion of the Indian Buddhists, which took place several centuries before the Christian era, and which led to the expatriation of thousands of individuals.

All that can be said respecting the present Cambodians is, that they are an agricultural people, among whom a certain taste for art still shows itself in the carved work of the boats belonging to the better classes, and their chief characteristic is unbounded conceit.

It is not so among the savages of the east, called by the Cambodians their elder brothers. I passed four months among them, and, arriving direct from Cambodia, it seemed like entering a country comparatively civilized. Great gentleness, politeness, and even sociability—which, to my fancy, bore evidence of a past refinement—struck me in these poor children of nature, buried for centuries in their deep forests, which they believe to be the largest portion of the world, and to which they are so strongly attached that no inducement would tempt them to move. At the risk, then, of this portion of my notes being passed over by many readers, I shall enlarge a little upon these people, my own observations being aided by the information afforded me by the missionaries who have for years resided among their different tribes.

When looking at the figures in the bas-reliefs at Ongcor, I could not avoid remarking the strong resemblance of the faces to those of these savages. And besides the similar regularity of feature, there are the same long beards, straight langoutis, and even the same weapons and musical instruments.

Almost all the fruit-trees of the neighbouring countries are found, though in small numbers, among them; and they have some good species of bananas, which are unknown beyond the limits of their forests.

Having a great taste for music, and being gifted with ears excessively fine, with them originated the tam-tam, so prized among the neighbouring nations; and by uniting its sounds to those of a large drum, they obtain music tolerably harmonious. The art of writing is unknown to them; and as they necessarily lead a wandering life, they seem to have lost nearly all traditions of the past. The only information I could extract from their oldest chiefs was, that far beyond the chain of mountains which crosses the country from north to south are other “people of the high country”—such is the name they give themselves; that of savage wounds them greatly—that they have many relations there, and they even cite names of villages or hamlets as far as the provinces occupied by the Annamite invaders. Their practice is to bury their dead.

I extract the following account of the Bannavs—which applies to most of the tribes inhabiting the mountains and table-lands between Tonquin and Laos, Cochin China and Cambodia—from a letter of M. Comte, missionary in Cochin China, who recently died amongst them after a residence of several years:—

“To what race do the Bannavs belong? That is the first question I asked myself on arriving here, and I must confess that I cannot yet answer it; all I can say is, that in all points they differ from the Annamites and Chinese; neither do they resemble the Laotians or Cambodians, but appear to have a common origin with the CÉdans, Halangs, Reungao, and GiaraÏe, their neighbours. Their countenances, costumes, and belief are nearly the same; and the language, although it differs in each tribe, has yet many words common to all; the construction, moreover, is perfectly identical. I have not visited the various tribes of the south, but from all I have heard I conclude that these observations apply to them also, and that all the savages inhabiting the vast country lying between Cochin China, Laos, and Cambodia belong to the same great branch of the human family.

“The language spoken by the Bannavs has nothing in common with that of the Annamites. Very simple in its construction, it is soft, flowing, and easy.

“These people manufacture the saucepans in which they cook their rice and wild herbs, the hatchets, pickaxes, and pruning-bills, which comprise all their agricultural instruments, the sabres which serve them as weapons, and the long-handled knives used for various kinds of work in which they excel. Their clay calumets, tastefully ornamented with leaves or other devices, are the production of the most skilful among the tribe. The women weave pieces of white or black cloth, which they use for coverings, and which, coarse as they are, form the principal article of commerce between the Bannavs and the CÉdans.

“The villagers who live on the banks of the river Bla make light canoes, which are both solid and graceful, out of the trunks of trees. Such are the principal articles produced by the Bannavs, who are more backward than any of the other tribes, having little inventive genius.

“The GiaraÏe, their neighbours on the south, show much taste and aptness in all they do; their clothes are of a finer texture than those spun by the Bannavs, and are sometimes embellished with designs which would be admired even in Europe. The iron which they forge is also wrought into more elegant forms, and is more finely tempered; and they manufacture some articles in copper. Very superior to the Reungao, they do not perhaps surpass the Halangs.

“The CÉdans are a tribe of iron-workers, their country abounding in mines of this metal. The inhabitants of more than seventy villages, when their agricultural labours are over, busy themselves in extracting and working the ore, which they afterwards dispose of in the shape of hatchets, pickaxes, lances, and sabres.

“Amongst all the dwellers in a Bannav village, even more than among the other natives, there exists a very decided spirit of community. Thus, no family will drink wine without inviting others to join them, as long as the quantity will hold out; and on killing a pig, goat, or buffalo, the possessor divides it into as many portions as there are families, reserving for himself a share very little larger than the others. No one is forgotten in this distribution, from the youngest child to the oldest man. The deer and wild boar taken in the chase are divided in the same way, the hunters retaining only a rather larger portion in consideration of their labour and fatigue. I have actually seen a fowl divided into forty or fifty parts. Even if the children catch a serpent, a lizard, or a mouse in their little expeditions, you will see the oldest of them, on returning, portion it with strict impartiality amongst the party. These customs might have been borrowed from the early Christians had these savages ever heard of them. The other tribes also observe them, but less scrupulously.

“Not only does general censure follow any criminal act, but severe penalties, such as slavery or exile, are imposed for lying. Even suicide—instances of which you occasionally find among them—has a stigma affixed to it in their penal code; any one who perishes by his own hand is buried in a corner of the forest far from the graves of his brethren, and all who have assisted in the sepulture are required afterwards to purify themselves in a special manner.

“This legislation is far from being deficient in morality and wisdom, but unfortunately on certain points it is tainted with superstition, and has opened a large door to numberless injustices, and sometimes provoked cruel strife. On the subject of witchcraft they are particularly credulous: nearly every misfortune is attributed by them to the malice of certain persons whom they believe gifted with the power of influencing their fate; superstition serves as a guide to seek out the guilty individual, and when he is supposed to be discovered, he is usually sold for a slave, or a heavy ransom is exacted.

“The Bannavs believe in the existence of a multitude of spirits, some mischievous to man, others beneficent. According to their creed, every large tree, every mountain, every river, every rock, almost everything, has its particular genius; but they seem to have no idea of a superior being, sovereign and Creator of all things.

“If you ask them respecting the origin of mankind, all they tell you is, that the father of the human race was saved from an immense inundation by means of a large chest in which he shut himself up; but of the origin or creator of this father they know nothing. Their traditions do not reach beyond the Deluge; but they will tell you that in the beginning one grain of rice sufficed to fill a saucepan and furnish a repast for a whole family. This is a souvenir of the first age of the world, that fugitive period of innocence and happiness which poets have called the golden age.

“They have no very fixed ideas on the subject of rewards and punishments in a future life. They believe in the immortality of the soul, which, after leaving the body, they imagine wanders about the tombs and adjacent mountains, often terrifying the living by nocturnal appearances, and finally loses itself for ever in the shadowy depths of the regions of the south.

“All their religion consists of sacrifices and vows, vain and endless observances performed in the hope of warding off misfortune, alleviating suffering, and retarding the hour of death; for, as with all Pagans, the foundation of their religion is terror and egotism.”

On my return from my excursion amongst the StiÊns, M. Fontaine, whom I met at PinhalÚ, was so kind as to present me with his journal, kept during a residence of twenty years among various savage races, and which I hope some day will see the light; and he likewise favoured me with the following remarks on the dialects of several of these tribes:—

“The language of the GiaraÏe and that of the Redais bear a strong resemblance to each other: the two tribes are only separated from each other by the river Bong, which flows between them in a westerly direction, after running for some distance from south to north and watering the lands of the Candians or Bihcandians, whose language also resembles in some degree that of the tribes just mentioned. The dialect of the Bonnavs or Menons does not appear to me to have any similitude to the others, nor even to those of the tribes farther north.

“After a sojourn of several years among these tribes, I was forced, on account of my health, to go to Singapore. I was astonished, after a little study of Malayan, to find in that language a number of GiaraÏe words, and many more bearing a strong resemblance to words in that dialect; and I doubt not this similarity would be found still more remarkable by any one who thoroughly studied both languages. The resemblance also of the language of the ThiÂmes, the ancient inhabitants of Isiampa, now in the province of Annam, to that of these tribes, leads me to believe that they must all have sprung from the same root.”

The information I obtained from the StiÊns accords perfectly with these remarks of M. Fontaine:—“The ThiÂmes,” they said, “understand our language very well, but the KouÏs, who live beyond the great river, speak exactly the same language as ourselves.” M. Arnoux, another missionary in Cochin China, who has long resided amongst these savage tribes, speaks in the same way respecting the language. To M. Arnoux also I owe the exact latitude of many places on the map, and a great deal of topographical information about the whole country; and it affords me great pleasure here to express my gratitude and my esteem for his character.

“The languages of the Sedans,” says he, “of the Reungaos, and of the Italhans are almost identical, although often varying slightly even in the same tribe: the dialect of the northern Sedans is somewhat different from that of the southerns, and the Stiengs of Brelum speak differently from those farther to the east.

“The Bannav and the Bannam are nearly the same; the Bannav and Sedan much alike; generally only the terminations differ, but there are words in each not to be found in the other. M. Fontaine found that the Ieboune and Braon strongly resemble the Bannav. I cannot speak personally about the GiaraÏe, Nedais, Bonous, and Bih; but doubtless others can.”

I myself remarked many StiÊn words like the Cambodian, especially in the western districts, where there exists some commerce between the two countries. To all this must be added that the Siamese, Laotian,[3] and Cambodian seem to be sister languages: more than a fourth part of the words, especially those expressing intellectual things, are exactly the same in each.

In the course of this work I have cited several passages from the Life of the AbbÉ Gagelin, who died a martyr in Cochin China, and which was published by AbbÉ Jacquenet: in it mention is made of savage races on the coast of Siam and in the environs of Kompat (Cambodia). I have sought in vain for them, and no one has ever heard them spoken of. Probably the missionary was deceived by his servants, who were Annamites, and they always call the Cambodians and Siamese savages (Noye Uhen, inhabitants of the woods), while they give themselves the appellation of citizens.

Notwithstanding all my efforts to discover the traces of the probable migrations of the Jewish people through Siam and Cambodia, I have met with nothing satisfactory excepting a record of the judgment of Solomon, which, as I before stated, was found by M. Miche, Bishop of Laos and Cambodia, to be preserved verbatim in one of the Cambodian sacred books. To all my questions on this subject I received the same answer, “There are no Jews in the country.” Nevertheless, among the StiÊns, I could not but be struck by the Hebrew character of many of the faces.

In 1670 Cambodia extended as far as Isiampa; but the provinces of Lower Cochin China, as Bien-hoa, Digne-Theun, Vigue Laon, Ann Djiann, and Ita-Tienne—all at one time conquered and annexed—have, for more than a century, shaken off their dependence on Cambodia; and the language and ancient Cambodian race have entirely disappeared in those districts. The different states have now their limits and sovereigns entirely independent of each other. Cambodia is, however, to a certain extent tributary to Siam, but in no degree to Annam; and I cannot understand how, at the present day, the French newspapers, even the ‘Moniteur de la Flotte,’ still less how our admiral in those seas, should habitually confound these two countries.

The suppositions of the AbbÉ Jacquenet, which I have already quoted and to which I was disposed to give credence, seem to fall before the more accurate information which I have obtained concerning the religion of the ThiÂmes or Isiampois. It must be allowed that the only vestiges of Judaism found among them are equally met with amongst Mahometans. They have priests, temples, practise circumcision, abstain from pork, and frequently pronounce, with the greatest veneration, the words Allah and Mahomet. They themselves declare that their present religion was brought to them from Malaisia—that priests still come to them from thence and visit them from time to time. I had this information from some Cambodians of Battambong, who, having been taken prisoners in the wars with the Cochin Chinese, passed eight years in Isiampa. One of them, a blind man, who appeared to me to be remarkable for good sense and judgment—an exceptional case in this country—seemed especially to merit confidence. These facts, and others which I collected regarding the religion of the ThiÂmes, who until 1859, the time of their flight, inhabited Cambodia, lead me to infer that the AbbÉ Gagelin was in error. I was certainly told of two sects into which the tribe was divided; but the only distinguishing point between them was that one ate pork and the other did not.

The ThiÂmes must formerly have occupied several important districts in Cambodia, principally on the banks of the tributary of the Me-kong. Thus, on the shores of Touli Sap, or the great lake, not far from Battambong, is a place called Campong ThiÂme (shore of the ThiÂmes). More to the south, near Campong Tchnam, the village where the custom-house of Cambodia is erected, is an island called Isle of ThiÂmes. According to tradition, the whole banks of the river, as far as Penom-Peuh, were formerly inhabited by these people; and to this cause is to be attributed the complete absence of remains in these localities.

The mountains of Dom-rÊe, situated a little way to the north of Ongcor, are inhabited by the Khmer-dÔme, a gentle and inoffensive race, although looked upon as savages by their brethren of the plain. These latter are the Somrais: they speak the Cambodian language, but with a different pronunciation. Beyond are the provinces, formerly belonging to Cambodia, but now Siamese, of SourÉne, Song Kac, Con Khan, Nan Kong, and Ongcor-Eith or Korat.

According to popular belief, the king, if he should cross the great lake, is sure to die in the course of the year.

Whilst the present sovereign was prince he paid a visit to Ongcor, and seeing some of the Somrais, said, “These are my true subjects, and the stock from which my family sprang.” It seems that, in fact, the present dynasty did so.

The Cambodians give the following account of the introduction of Buddhism among them. Samanokodom left Ceylon and went to Thibet, where he was very well received; from thence he went among the savages, but, not meeting with encouragement from them, he took refuge in Cambodia, where he was welcomed by the people.

A circumstance worthy of remark is that the name of Rome is familiar to nearly all the Cambodians: they pronounce it Rouma, and place it at the western end of the world.

There are among the GiaraÏe two great nominal chiefs, called by the Annamites Hoa-Sa and Thorei-Sa, the king of fire and the king of water. The kings of Cambodia and Cochin China send to the former chief, every four or five years, a small tribute as a token of respectful homage, in consideration of the ancient power of which their ancestors have despoiled him. The king of fire, who appears to be the more important of the two, is called Eni (grandfather) by the savages, and the village where he resides bears the same name. When this “grandfather” dies, another is chosen, sometimes one of his sons, sometimes a stranger, the dignity not being hereditary. His extraordinary power is attributed, according to M. Fontaine, to Beurdao, an old sabre wrapped in rags, and having no other sheath. This sabre, say the GiaraÏe, is centuries old, and contains a famous spirit (Giang), who must certainly have a good digestion to consume all the pigs, fowls, and other offerings brought to him. It is kept in a certain house, and whoever ventures to look at it dies suddenly, the sole exception being Eni himself, who has the privilege of seeing and handling it unharmed. Every inhabitant of the village has to act as sentinel in turn at this house.

Eni wages war on no one, and is assailed by none; consequently his attendants carry no arms when they go round to collect offerings. Most of the people give something, cloth, wax, pickaxes; anything is accepted.

I have written these few notes on Cambodia, after returning from a long hunting expedition, by the light of a torch, seated on my tiger-skin. On one side of me is the skin of an ape just stripped off; on the other, a box of insects waiting to be arranged and packed; and my employment has not been rendered easier by the sanguinary attacks of mosquitoes and leeches. My desire is, not to impose my opinions on any one, especially with regard to the wonderful architectural remains which I have visited, but simply to disclose the existence of these monuments, which are certainly the most gigantic, and also to my mind display a more perfect taste than any left to us by the ancients; and, moreover, to collect all the facts and traditions possible about these countries, hoping they may be useful to explorers of greater talent and fortune. For, I doubt not, others will follow in my steps, and, aided by their own government and by that of Siam, advantages denied to myself, will gather an abundant harvest where I have but cleared the ground.

But, after all, my principal object is natural history, and with that study I chiefly occupy myself. I have written, as I said before, in leisure hours, when resting from my fatigues, with a desire to implant in the breasts of others a love for the great works of Nature, and to benefit those who, in the quiet of their homes, delight to follow the poor traveller; who, often with the sole object of being useful to his fellow-men, or of discovering some insect, plant, or unknown animal, or verifying some point of latitude, crosses the ocean, and sacrifices family, comfort, health, and, too often, life itself.

But it is pleasant to the man devoted to our good and beautiful mother, Nature, to think that his work, his fatigues, his troubles and dangers, are useful to others, if not to himself. Nature has her lovers, and those alone who have tasted them know the joys she gives. I candidly confess that I have never been more happy than when amidst this grand and beautiful tropical scenery, in the profound solitude of these dense forests, the stillness only broken by the song of birds and the cries of wild animals; and even if destined here to meet my death, I would not change my lot for all the joys and pleasures of the civilised world.