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- Herausgeber: Booksell-Verlag
- Kategorie: Lebensstil
- Sprache: Englisch
In the Far East by W. H. Davenport Adams is a captivating travel narrative that intricately weaves together rich descriptions of the cultures, landscapes, and peoples of Eastern Asia. Adams employs a vivid, lyrical style that captures the colors and textures of his experiences while simultaneously providing insightful commentary on the socio-political dynamics of the region during the late 19th century. The book serves as both a personal memoir and a broader historical document, reflecting the colonial attitudes of its time, thus enriching the reader's understanding of the complexities of East-West interactions. W. H. Davenport Adams was a noted writer and journalist, whose extensive travels inspired his literary works. His background in literature and journalism, combined with his keen interest in geography and culture, positioned him uniquely to observe and convey the intricacies of the world beyond Europe. Adams's passion for exploration and knowledge shines through his prose, making his observations profoundly engaging and insightful, reflecting the zeitgeist of his era. This compelling volume is highly recommended for readers interested in travel literature, cultural studies, and the historical context of Western encounters with the East. Adams's pioneering insights and evocative storytelling offer a timeless exploration of a world on the cusp of change, making In the Far East an essential read for anyone seeking to understand the enduring legacies of colonialism and cultural exchange. In this enriched edition, we have carefully created added value for your reading experience: - Hand‐picked Memorable Quotes shine a spotlight on moments of literary brilliance. - Interactive footnotes clarify unusual references, historical allusions, and archaic phrases for an effortless, more informed read.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
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In the Far East
Table of Contents
In the Far East
CHAPTER I.THROUGH LAOS TO CHINA.
A considerable portion of the Indo-Chinese peninsula is occupied by the extensive country of Cambodia, or Camboja, known to the natives as Kan-pou-chi. It extends from lat. 8° 47′ to 15° N., along the basin of the Mekong[1], Makiang, or Cambodia river; and is bounded on the north by Laos; on the south, by the Gulf of Siam and the China Sea; on the east, by Cochin-China; and on the west, by Siam. Formerly it was independent; but since 1809 it has been included within the empire of Annam, except the province of Battabang, which belongs to the kingdom of Siam. But since the French established themselves at Saigon in 1858, and have gradually obtained a controlling power in Annam (or Cochin-China), their influence has also extended to Cambodia.
The largest river of Cambodia, and of the whole Indo-Chinese peninsula, is the Mekong, Makiang, or Cambodia, which, rising in the mountains of China, under the name of the Lan-tsan-kiang, flows in a south-easterly direction across the province of Yunnan; thence, under the name of the Kiou-long, traverses the territory of Laos; and afterwards, as the Mekong, intersects Cambodia, dividing the Annam portion from that which belongs to Siam; separates into several branches, and finally falls into the China Sea, after a fertilizing course of about fifteen hundred miles. Its two principal mouths are those of the Japanese and Oubequum channels. There are several smaller mouths, however, the southernmost of which is situated in lat. 9° 30′ N., and long. 106° 20′ E.
Very little was known of this great river until the French had made themselves masters of Saigon. It has since been explored in parts of its course by M. Mouhot, Lieutenant Garnier[2], and others. The country which it waters possesses many features of interest; and the scenery through which it flows is often of a romantic and beautiful character.[2q] The manners and customs of the people dwelling on its banks are not unworthy of consideration;[1q] and we propose, therefore, to carry the reader with us on a voyage up this magnificent stream,—penetrating, under the guidance of Lieutenant Garnier, into hitherto unexplored parts of Cambodia, and even into China itself.
In 1866 the French Government determined on despatching an expedition to explore the upper valley of the great Cambodian river, and placed it in charge of M. de Lagrée, a captain in the French navy. M. Thorel, a surgeon, was attached to it as botanist; M. Delaporte, as artist; Dr. Joubert, as physician and geologist; and among the other members were Lieutenant Garnier, to whose record of the expedition we are about to be indebted, and M. de Carné. After a visit to Ongcor, the capital of the ancient kingdom of the Khmers, with those vast memorials of antiquity described so graphically by M. Mouhot, the expedition proceeded to ascend the great river, passing the busy villages of Compong Luong and Pnom Penh—the latter the residence of the king of Cambodia. Here they abandoned the gun-brigs which had brought them from Saigon, and embarked themselves and their stores on board boats better fitted for river navigation.
These boats or canoes are manned, according to their size, by a crew of six to ten men. Each is armed with a long bamboo, one end of which terminates with an iron hook, the other with a small fork. The men take up their station on a small platform in the fore part of the boat, plant their bamboos against some projection on the river-bank, tree or stone, and then march towards the stern; returning afterwards on the opposite side to repeat the process. This strange kind of circular motion suffices to impel the boat at the rate of a man walking at full speed, when the boatmen are skilful at their work, and the river-bank is straight and well defined. The master’s attention is wholly occupied, meanwhile, in keeping the bow of the canoe in the direction of the current, or rather slightly headed towards the shore. It is obvious that such a mode of navigation is liable to many interruptions, and cannot be commended on the score of swiftness or convenience.
SCENE ON THE MEKONG
On the 13th of July the canoes took their departure from Cratieh, and soon afterwards arrived at Sombor. They then effected the passage of the rapids of Sombor-Sombor—no great difficulty being experienced, owing to the rise of the waters. Beyond this point the broad bed of the great river was encumbered with a multitude of islands, low and green, while the banks were covered with magnificent forests. The voyagers noticed here some trees of great value—the yao; the ban-courg, the wood of which makes capital oars; and the lam-xe, which should be highly prized by the European cabinet-makers.
On the 16th of July the voyagers again fell in with a series of formidable rapids. The sharp and clearly-defined shores of the islands which had hitherto enclosed the arm of the river they were navigating were suddenly effaced. The Cambodia was covered with innumerable clumps of trees, half under water; its muddy torrent rolled impetuously through a thousand canals, forming an inextricable labyrinth. Huge blocks of sandstone rose at intervals along the left bank, and indicated that strata of the same rock extended across the river-bed. At a considerable distance from the shore the poles of the boatmen found a depth of fully ten feet; and it was with extreme difficulty the canoes made way against the strong, fierce current, which in some confined channels attained a velocity of five miles an hour.
Storms of wind and rain contributed to render the voyage more wearisome and the progress slower. It was no easy task at night to find a secure haven for the boats; and the sudden floods of the little streams at the mouth of which the voyagers sought shelter, several times subjected them to the risk of being carried away during their sleep, and cast all unexpectedly into the mid-current of the great river. They slept on board their boats, because the roof was some protection from the furious rains; but these soon soaked through the mats and leaves of which it was composed. The weather was warm, and thus these douche-baths were not wholly insupportable; and when the voyagers could not sleep, they found some consolation in admiring the fantastic illumination which the incessant lightnings kindled in the gloomy arcades of the forest, and in listening to the peals of thunder, repeated by a thousand echoes, and mingling with the hoarse continuous growl of the angry waters.
Such are some of the features of the navigation of the lower part of the Cambodia. But our limits compel us to pass over several chapters of Lieutenant Garnier’s narrative, and to take it up after the voyagers had crossed the boundaries of Siam and Cambodia and entered Laos.
Lieutenant Garnier describes the Laotians as generally well made and robust. Their physiognomy, he says, is characterized by a singular combination of cunning and apathy, benevolence and timorousness. Their eyes are less regular, their cheeks less prominent, the nose straighter, than is the case with other peoples of Mongolian origin; and but for their much paler complexion, which closely approaches that of the Chinese, we should be tempted to credit them with a considerable admixture of Hindu blood. The male Laotian shaves his head, and, like the Siamese, preserves only a small tuft of very short hair on the summit. LAOTIAN COSTUME. He dresses himself tastefully, and can wear the finest stuffs with ease and dignity. He chooses always the liveliest colours; and the effect of a group of Laotians, with the brilliant hues of their costume set off by their copper-tinted skin, is very striking. The common people wear an exceedingly simple garb—the langouti[3], a piece of cotton stuff passed between the legs and around the waist. For those of higher rank the langouti is of silk; and is frequently accompanied by a small vest buttoned over the chest, with very narrow sleeves, and another piece of silk folded round the waist as a girdle, or round the neck as a scarf. Head-gear and foot-gear are things little used in Laos; but the labourers and boatmen, when working or rowing under a burning sun, protect the head with an immense straw hat, almost flat, much like a parasol. Personages of high rank, when they are in “full dress,” wear a kind of slipper, which appears to inconvenience them greatly, and is thrown off at the earliest opportunity.
Most of the Laotians tattoo themselves on the stomach or legs, though the practice is much more prevalent in the north than in the south. The Laotian women do not wear much more clothing than their husbands. The langouti, instead of being brought up between the legs, is fastened round the waist, and allowed to hang down like a short tight petticoat below the knees. Generally, a second piece of stuff is worn over the bosom, and thrown back across either the right or left shoulder. The hair, always of a splendid jetty blackness, is twisted up in a chignon on the top of the head, and kept in its place by a small strip of cotton or plaited straw, frequently embellished with a few flowers. Every woman ornaments her neck, arms, and legs with rings of gold, silver, or copper, sometimes heaped one upon another in considerable quantity. The very poor are content with belts of cotton or silk; to which, in the case of children, are suspended little amulets given by the priests as talismans against witchcraft or remedies against disease.
Strictly speaking, polygamy[4] does not exist in Laos. Only the well-to-do indulge in the embarrassing luxury of more wives than one; and even with these a favoured individual is recognized as the lawful spouse.
Unhappily, slavery prevails, as it does in Siam and Cambodia. A debtor may be enslaved, by judicial confiscation; but the “peculiar institution” is chiefly recruited from the wild tribes in the eastern provinces. The slaves are employed in tilling the fields, and in domestic labours; they are treated with great kindness. They often live so intimately and so familiarly with their masters, that, but for their long hair and characteristic physiognomy, it would be difficult to distinguish them in the midst of a Laotian “interior.”
The Laotians are a slothful people, and, when not rich enough to own slaves, leave the best part of the day’s work to be done by the women, who not only perform the household labour, but pound the rice, till the fields, paddle the canoes. Hunting and fishing are almost the only occupations reserved for the stronger sex.
We have not space to describe all the engines employed for catching fish, which, next to rice, is the principal food of all the riverine populations of the Mekong valley, and is furnished by the great river in almost inexhaustible quantities. The most common are large tubes of bamboo and ratan, having one or more funnel-shaped necks, the edges of which prevent the fish from escaping after they have once entered. These apparatus are firmly attached, with their openings towards the current, to a tree on the river-bank, or, by means of some heavy stones, are completely submerged. Every second or third day their owner visits them, and empties them of their finny victims. The Laotians also make use of an ingenious system of floats, which support a row of hooks, and realize the European “fishing by line,” without the help of the fisherman. There are various other methods adopted, such as the net and the harpoon; and in the employment of all these the Laotians display considerable activity and address.
Let us now accompany our French voyagers in their further ascent of the river. As we have already hinted, its navigation is not without its inconveniences, and even its dangers.
One evening, for example, they dropped anchor at the mouth of a small stream which, in foam and spray, came tumbling down from the mountains of Cambodia. After supper they lay down to rest on the mats which covered the deck of their vessels. Black was the sky, hot and oppressive the air; all around were visible the portents of a coming storm. The distant roar of the hurricane failed, however, to disturb the sleepers, who were spent and overcome with the fatigues of the day. But at last they were wakened effectually by a “thunder-plump,” which quickly flooded their canoes, and drove them upon deck.
In the midst of the elemental disorder, they became aware of a hoarse growling sound; the waters were violently agitated, and a great crest of foam rapidly advanced towards their feeble barks. In a few moments it was upon them. It swept clean over the voyagers and their canoes, and those of the latter which had been carelessly moored were borne down the rushing tide. At first an indescribable disorder prevailed; cries of distress rose in every direction; the canoes dashed violently against one another, or came into collision with uprooted trunks floating on the surface of the storm-tossed waters. THE FLOOD SUBSIDES. Fortunately, the danger was quickly over; and as every boat had contrived to grapple some branch or rock, the voyagers discovered at daybreak that, whatever injuries these had sustained, no lives had been lost. The furious gale they had heard in the distance had raised the waters some twelve feet during the night; but the inundation subsided as rapidly as it had risen.
Under the shade of wide-branching trees, and closely hugging the shore, the expedition continued its voyage. The neighbouring forests were remarkable for their luxuriant vegetation; troops of apes and squirrels of various species gambolled among the mighty trees, among which rose conspicuous the superb yao, the king of these forests, the trunk of which shoots up, free from knot or bough, to a height of eighty or one hundred feet; and out of which the Laotians hollow their piraguas. In the morning a wild beast now and then came down to the river to drink; and night was rendered hideous by the cries and trumpetings of deer, and tigers, and elephants.
At length the voyagers came within hearing of the tremendous roar of the Khon cataract. Their boatmen, brisker than on ordinary occasions, hauled or propelled their vessels through a very labyrinth of rocks, submerged trees, and prostrate trunks still clinging to earth by their many roots. They knew that their hard labour was nearly at an end, and that at Khon the expedition would dismiss them, as fresh boats would be required above the cataract. As for their homeward voyage, what was it? To ascend the river had been the work of a week; the swift current would bear them back in less than a day.
The cataract of Khon is really a series of magnificent falls, of which one of the grandest is caused by the confluence of the Papheng. There, in the midst of rocks and grassy islets, an enormous sheet of water leaps headlong from a height of seventy feet, to fall back in floods of foam, again to descend from crag to crag, and finally glide away beneath the dense vegetation of the forest. As the river at this point is about one thousand yards in width, the effect is singularly striking. But still more imposing is the Salaphe fall, which extends over a breadth of a mile and a half, at the very foot of the mountains. In order to examine it at leisure, Lieutenant Garnier engaged a Laotian to conduct him to an island lying just above it. Before starting, the guide made certain preparations, of which Garnier could not understand the necessity, in spite of the Laotian’s efforts to explain them. Rolling up about his waist the light langouti, he plastered his feet and legs with a composition of lime and areca juice. This precaution proved to be far from useless; for, on landing on the island, they found the soil covered with thousands of leeches, some no larger than needles, but others two inches and a half to three inches in length. On the approach of the strangers, they reared themselves erect upon each dead leaf and blade of grass; they leaped, so to speak, upon them from every side. The thick coating which the Laotian guide had so prudently assumed preserved him from their bites; but Garnier, in a few moments, was victimized by dozens of these blood-suckers, which crawled up his legs and bled him in spite of all his efforts. He found it impossible to get rid of his determined antagonists; for one leech which he tore off, two fresh assailants seized upon him. Glad was he when he caught sight of a tall tree. He made towards it, scaled its trunk, and, when out of reach of his foes, set to work to deliver himself from the creatures which were feasting at his expense. Throwing off his clothes, he removed the leeches one by one, though it was not without difficulty that he loosened their hold. Even his waistband had not arrested their march, for he found that one audacious persecutor had actually reached his chest.
