The Lives of Celebrated Travellers, Vol. I.





FAMILY LIBRARY.


The publishers of the Family Library, anxious to obtain and to deserve
the favourable opinion of the public, with pleasure embrace the
present opportunity to express their warm and sincere thanks for the
liberal patronage which has been bestowed upon their undertaking, and
their determination to do all that lies in their power to merit its
continuance. For some time previous to the commencement of the Family
Library, they had entertained thoughts and wishes of reducing the
quantity of merely fictitious writings, which the reading public had made
it their interest to issue from their press; and they were conscious
that this could only be done by substituting for them works that should
be equally entertaining and more instructive. The difficulty was to
find an adequate supply of books possessing these requisites. At this
time the attention of English philanthropists and authors was strongly
turned to the general dissemination of useful knowledge by means of
popular abridgments, convenient in form, afforded at low prices, and as
much as possible simplified in style, so as to be accessible as well to
the means as to the comprehension of “the people,” in contradistinction
to the educated and the wealthy. The result has been the production of
numerous collections, embracing well written works treating of almost
every department of art and science, and, by their simplicity, clearness,
and entire freedom from technicality, exactly calculated to attract and
compensate the attention of the general reader. From these collections,
with additions and improvements, and such alterations as were necessary
to adapt the work to the taste and wants of the American public, HARPER’S
FAMILY LIBRARY has been composed; and it is with pride and pleasure
that the publishers acknowledge the distinguished favour with which it
has been received. The approbation and support that have already been
bestowed upon it are greater than have ever been conferred upon any work
of a similar character published in the United States; and the sale of
every succeeding volume still demonstrates its continually increasing
popularity. In several instances gentlemen of wealth and of excellent
judgment have been so much pleased with the character of the Library,
that they have purchased numbers of complete sets as appropriate and
valuable gifts to the families of their less opulent relatives; and
others have unsolicited, been active in their endeavours to extend its
circulation among their friends and acquaintances. With these strong
inducements to persevere, the publishers are resolved to prosecute
their undertaking with additional zeal, energy, and circumspection.
What has been done they desire their patrons to consider rather in the
light of an experiment, than a specimen of what they hope and intend to
accomplish: they freely and gratefully acknowledge that the circulation
and popularity of the Family Library are now such as to justify them
in disregarding expense, and to demand from them every care and every
exertion. It shall be their study to make such arrangements as shall
warrant them in assuring the friends and patrons of the Library that the
forthcoming volumes, instead of decreasing in interest and value, will be
found still more deserving of the support and approbation of the public
than those which have preceded them.

In order to render it thus meritorious, the proprietors intend
incorporating in it hereafter, selections of the best productions from
the various other Libraries and Miscellanies now publishing in Europe.
Several well-known authors have been engaged to prepare for it also works
of an American character; and _the Family Library, when completed, will
include a volume on every useful and interesting subject_ not embraced in
the other “Libraries” now preparing by the same publishers. The entire
series will be the production of authors of eminence, who have acquired
celebrity by their literary labours, and whose names, as they appear in
succession, will afford the surest guarantee for the satisfactory manner
in which the subjects will be treated.

With these arrangements, the publishers flatter themselves that they will
be able to offer to the American public a work of unparalleled _merit_
and _cheapness_, forming a body of literature which will obtain the
praise of having instructed many, and amused all; and, above every other
species of eulogy, of being fit to be introduced to the domestic circle
without reserve or exception.

THE DRAMATIC SERIES of the Family Library will consist principally of
the works of those Dramatists who flourished contemporaneously with
Shakspeare, in which all such passages as are inconsistent with modern
delicacy will be omitted. The number of volumes will be limited, and
they will be bound and numbered in such a manner as to render it not
essentially necessary to obtain them to complete a set of the Family
Library.

The following opinions, selected from highly respectable Journals, will
enable those who are unacquainted with the Family Library to form an
estimate of its merits. Numerous other notices, equally favourable, and
from sources equally respectable, might be presented if deemed necessary.

“The Family Library.—A very excellent, and always entertaining
Miscellany.”—_Edinburgh Review, No. 103._

“The Family Library presents, in a compendious and convenient form,
well-written histories of popular men, kingdoms, sciences, &c. arranged
and edited by able writers, and drawn entirely from the most correct and
accredited authorities. It is, as it professes to be, a Family Library,
from which, at little expense, a household may prepare themselves for
a consideration of those elementary subjects of education and society,
without a due acquaintance with which neither man nor woman has claim to
be well bred, or to take their proper place among those with whom they
abide.”—_Charleston Gazette._

“We have repeatedly borne testimony to the utility of this work. It is
one of the best that has ever been issued from the American press, and
should be in the library of _every_ family desirous of treasuring up
useful knowledge.”—_Boston Statesman._

“The Family Library should be in the hands of every person. Thus far it
has treated of subjects interesting to all, condensed in a perspicuous
and agreeable style.... We have so repeatedly spoken of the merits of the
design of this work, and of the able manner in which it is edited, that
on this occasion we will only repeat our conviction, that it is worthy
a place in every library in the country, and will prove one of the most
useful as it is one of the most interesting publications which has ever
issued from the American press.”—_N. Y. Courier & Enquirer._

“The Family Library is, what its name implies, a collection of various
original works of the best kind, containing reading, useful and
interesting to the family circle. It is neatly printed, and should be in
every family that can afford it—the price being moderate.”—_New-England
Palladium._

“The Family Library is, in all respects, a valuable work.”—_Pennsylvania
Inquirer._

“We are pleased to see that the publishers have obtained sufficient
encouragement to continue their valuable Family Library.”—_Baltimore
Republican._

“We recommend the whole set of the Family Library as one of the cheapest
means of affording pleasing instruction, and imparting a proper pride in
books, with which we are acquainted.”—_Philadelphia U. S. Gazette._

“It will prove instructing and amusing to all classes. We are pleased to
learn that the works comprising this Library have become, as they ought
to be, quite popular among the heads of Families.”—_N. Y. Gazette._

“It is the duty of every person having a family to put this excellent
Library into the hands of his children.”—_N. Y. Mercantile Advertiser._

“We have so often recommended this enterprising and useful publication
(the Family Library), that we can here only add, that each successive
number appears to confirm its merited popularity.”—_N. Y. American._

“It is so emphatically what it purports to be, that we are anxious to see
it in every family.—It is alike interesting and useful to all classes of
readers.”—_Albany Evening Journal._

“The little volumes of this series truly comport with their title, and
are in themselves a Family Library.”—_N. Y. Commercial Advertiser._

“We have met with no work more interesting and deservedly popular than
this valuable Family Library.”—_Monthly Repository._

“The plan of the Family Library must be acceptable to the American
reading community.”—_N. Y. Journal of Commerce._

“To all portions of the community the entire series may be warmly
recommended.”—_American Traveller._

“It is a delightful publication.”—_Truth Teller._




PROSPECTUS OF THE LIBRARY OF SELECT NOVELS.


Fictitious composition is now admitted to form an extensive and important
portion of literature. Well-wrought novels take their rank by the side
of real narratives, and are appealed to as evidence in all questions
concerning man. In them the customs of countries, the transitions and
shades of character, and even the very peculiarities of costume and
dialect, are curiously preserved; and the imperishable spirit that
surrounds and keeps them for the use of successive generations renders
the rarities for ever fresh and green. In them human life is laid
down as on a map. The strong and vivid exhibitions of passion and of
character which they furnish, acquire and maintain the strongest hold
upon the curiosity, and, it may be added, the affections of every class
of readers; for not only is entertainment in all the various moods
of tragedy and comedy provided in their pages, but he who reads them
attentively may often obtain, without the bitterness and danger of
experience, that knowledge of his fellow-creatures which but for such aid
could, in the majority of cases, be only acquired at a period of life too
late to turn it to account.

This “Library of Select Novels” will embrace none but such as have
received the impress of general approbation, or have been written by
authors of established character; and the publishers hope to receive such
encouragement from the public patronage as will enable them in the course
of time to produce a series of works of uniform appearance, and including
most of the really valuable novels and romances that have been or shall
be issued from the modern English and American press.

There is scarcely any question connected with the interests of literature
which has been more thoroughly discussed and investigated than that of
the utility or evil of novel reading. In its favour much may be and has
been said, and it must be admitted that the reasonings of those who
believe novels to be injurious, or at least useless, are not without
force and plausibility. Yet, if the arguments against novels are closely
examined, it will be found that they are more applicable in general
to excessive indulgence in the pleasures afforded by the perusal of
fictitious adventures than to the works themselves; and that the evils
which can be justly ascribed to them arise almost exclusively, not from
any peculiar noxious qualities that can be fairly attributed to novels as
a species, but from those individual works which in their class must be
pronounced to be indifferent.

But even were it otherwise—were novels of every kind, the good as well
as the bad, the striking and animated not less than the puerile, indeed
liable to the charge of enfeebling or perverting the mind; and were
there no qualities in any which might render them instructive as well
as amusing—the universal acceptation which they have ever received,
and still continue to receive, from all ages and classes of men, would
prove an irresistible incentive to their production. The remonstrances
of moralists and the reasonings of philosophy have ever been, and will
still be found, unavailing against the desire to partake of an enjoyment
so attractive. Men will read novels; and therefore the utmost that wisdom
and philanthropy can do is to cater prudently for the public appetite,
and, as it is hopeless to attempt the exclusion of fictitious writings
from the shelves of the library, to see that they are encumbered with
the least possible number of such as have no other merit than that of
novelty.

“The works of our elder dramatists, _as hitherto edited_, are wholly
unfit to be placed in the hands of young persons, or of females of
any age, or even to be thought of for a moment as furniture for the
drawing-room table, and the parlour-window, or to form the solace of a
family circle at the fireside. What lady will ever confess that she has
read and understood Massinger, or Ford, or even Beaumont and Fletcher?
There is hardly a single piece in any of those authors which does not
contain more abominable passages than the very worst of modern panders
would ever dream of hazarding in print—and there are whole plays in Ford,
and in Beaumont and Fletcher, the very essence and substance of which
is, from beginning to end, one mass of pollution. The works, therefore,
of these immortal men have hitherto been library, not drawing-room
books;—and we have not a doubt, that, down to this moment, they have
been carefully excluded, _in toto_, from the vast majority of those
English houses in which their divine poetry, if stripped of its deforming
accompaniments, would have been ministering the most effectually to the
instruction and delight of our countrymen, and, above all, of our fair
countrywomen.

“We welcome, therefore, the appearance of the _Dramatic Series_ of the
_Family Library_ with no ordinary feelings of satisfaction. We are now
sure that, ere many months elapse, the productions of those distinguished
bards—all of them that is worthy of their genius, their taste, and the
acceptation of a moral and refined people—will be placed within reach of
every circle from which their very names have hitherto been sufficient
to exclude them, in a shape such as must command confidence, and richly
reward it. The text will be presented pure and correct, wherever it
is fit to be presented at all—every word and passage offensive to the
modest ear will be omitted; and means adopted, through the notes, of
preserving the sense and story entire, in spite of these necessary
erasures. If this were all, it would be a great deal—but the editors
undertake much more. They will furnish, in their preliminary notices, and
in their notes, clear accounts of the origin, structure, and object of
every piece, and the substance of all that sound criticism has brought
to their illustration, divested, however, of the personal squabbles
and controversies which so heavily and offensively load the bottoms
of the pages in the best existing editions of our dramatic worthies.
Lives of the authors will be given; and if they be all drawn up with
the skill and elegance which mark the Life of Massinger, in the first
volume, these alone will form a standard addition to our biographical
literature.”—_Literary Gazette._

“The early British Drama forms so important a portion of our literature,
that a ‘_Family Library_’ would be incomplete without it. A formidable
obstacle to the publication of our early plays, however, consists in the
occasional impurity of their dialogue. The editors of the Family Library
have, therefore, judiciously determined on publishing a selection of
old plays, omitting all such passages as are inconsistent with modern
delicacy. The task of separation requires great skill and discretion, but
these qualities we have no apprehension of not finding, in the fullest
degree requisite, in the editors, who, by this purifying process, will
perform a service both to the public and to the authors, whom they will
thereby draw forth from unmerited obscurity.”—_Asiatic Journal._

“The first number of the ‘Dramatic Series’ of this work commences with
the Plays of MASSINGER; and the lovers of poetry and the drama may now,
for the first time, possess the works of all the distinguished writers of
the renowned Elizabethan age, at a cost which most pockets can bear; in
a form and style, too, which would recommend them to the most tasteful
book collector. A portrait of Massinger adorns the first volume; and
what little is known of the dramatist is given in a short account of his
life.”—_Examiner._




FAMILY CLASSICAL LIBRARY.


The Publishers have much pleasure in recording the following testimonials
in recommendation of the Family Classical Library.

“Mr. Valpy has projected a _Family Classical Library_. The idea is
excellent, and the work cannot fail to be acceptable to youth of both
sexes, as well as to a large portion of the reading community, who have
not had the benefit of a learned education.”—_Gentleman’s Magazine, Dec.
1829._

“We have here the commencement of another undertaking for the more
general distribution of knowledge, and one which, if as well conducted
as we may expect, bids fair to occupy an enlarged station in our
immediate literature. The volume before us is a specimen well calculated
to recommend what are to follow. Leland’s Demosthenes is an excellent
work.”—_Lit. Gazette._

“This work will be received with great gratification by every man who
knows the value of classical knowledge. All that we call purity of
taste, vigour of style, and force of thought, has either been taught to
the modern world by the study of the classics, or has been guided and
restrained by those illustrious models. To extend the knowledge of such
works is to do a public service.”—_Court Journal._

“The _Family Classical Library_ is another of those cheap, useful,
and elegant works, which we lately spoke of as forming an era in our
publishing history.”—_Spectator._

“The present era seems destined to be honourably distinguished in
literary history by the high character of the works to which it is
successively giving birth. Proudly independent of the fleeting taste of
the day, they boast substantial worth which can never be disregarded;
they put forth a claim to permanent estimation. The _Family Classical
Library_ is a noble undertaking, which the name of the editor assures
us will be executed in a style worthy of the great originals.”—_Morning
Post._

“This is a very promising speculation; and as the taste of the day runs
just now very strongly in favour of such Miscellanies, we doubt not it
will meet with proportionate success. It needs no adventitious aid,
however influential; it has quite sufficient merit to enable it to stand
on its own foundation, and will doubtless assume a lofty grade in public
favour.”—_Sun._

“This work, published at a low price, is beautifully got up. Though
to profess to be content with translations of the Classics has been
denounced as ‘the thin disguise of indolence,’ there are thousands who
have no leisure for studying the dead languages, who would yet like to
know what was thought and said by the sages and poets of antiquity. To
them this work will be a treasure.”—_Sunday Times._

“This design, which is to communicate a knowledge of the most esteemed
authors of Greece and Rome, by the most approved translations, to those
from whom their treasures, without such assistance, would be hidden,
must surely be approved by every friend of literature, by every lover of
mankind. We shall only say of the first volume, that as the execution
well accords with the design, it must command general approbation.”—_The
Observer._

“We see no reason why this work should not find its way into the boudoir
of the lady, as well as into the library of the learned. It is cheap,
portable, and altogether a work which may safely be placed in the hands
of persons of both sexes.”—_Weekly Free Press._




                     _Harper’s Stereotype Edition._

                                   THE
                                  LIVES
                                   OF
                         CELEBRATED TRAVELLERS.

                                   BY
                        JAMES AUGUSTUS ST. JOHN.

            Wand’ring from clime to clime, observant stray’d,
            Their manners noted and their states survey’d.
                                                POPE’S HOMER.

                            IN THREE VOLUMES.

                                 VOL. I.

                                NEW-YORK:
                PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY J. & J. HARPER,
                          NO. 82 CLIFF-STREET,
            AND SOLD BY THE PRINCIPAL BOOKSELLERS THROUGHOUT
                           THE UNITED STATES.
                                  1832.




ADVERTISEMENT.


Dr. Southey, speaking of the works of travellers, very justly remarks,
that “of such books we cannot have too many!” and adds, with equal truth,
that “because they contribute to the instruction of the learned, their
reputation suffers no diminution by the course of time, but that age
rather enhances their value.” Every man, indeed, whose comprehensive
mind enables him to sympathize with human nature under all its various
aspects, and to detect—through the endless disguises superinduced by
strange religions, policies, manners, or climate—passions, weaknesses,
and virtues akin to his own, must peruse the relations of veracious
travellers with peculiar satisfaction and delight. But there is another
point of view in which the labours of this class of writers may be
contemplated with advantage. Having made use of them as a species of
telescope for bringing remote scenes near our intellectual eye, it may,
perhaps, be of considerable utility to observe the effect of so many
dissimilar and unusual objects, as necessarily present themselves to
travellers, upon the mind, character, and happiness of the individuals
who beheld them. This, in fact, is the business of the biographer; and it
is what I have endeavoured to perform, to the best of my abilities, in
the following “Lives.”

By accompanying the adventurer through his distant enterprises, often
far more bold and useful than any undertaken by king or conqueror, we
insensibly acquire, unless repelled by some base or immoral quality, an
affection, as it were, for his person, and learn to regard his toils and
dangers amid “antres vast and deserts idle,” as something which concerns
us nearly. And when the series of his wanderings in foreign realms are
at an end, our curiosity, unwilling to forsake an agreeable track, still
pursues him in his return to his home, longs to contemplate him when
placed once more in the ordinary ranks of society, and would fain be
informed of the remainder of his tale. By some such mental process as
this I was led to inquire into the lives of celebrated travellers; and
though, in many instances, I have been very far from obtaining all the
information I desired, my researches, I trust, will neither be considered
discreditable to myself nor useless to the public.

In arranging the materials of my work, I have adopted the order of time
for many reasons; but chiefly because, by this means, though pursuing
the adventures of individuals, a kind of general history of travels is
produced, which, with some necessary breaks, brings down the subject
from the middle of the thirteenth century, the era of Marco Polo, to our
own times. The early part of this period is principally occupied with
the enterprises of foreigners, because our countrymen had not then begun
to distinguish themselves greatly in this department of literature. As
we advance, however, the genius and courage of Englishmen will command
a large share of our attention; and from a feeling which, perhaps, is
more than pardonable, I look forward to the execution of that part of my
undertaking with more than ordinary pride and pleasure.

                                                           J. A. ST. JOHN.

Paris, 1831.




CONTENTS.


                          WILLIAM DE RUBRUQUIS.

                  Born 1220.—Died about 1293, or 1294.

    Born in Brabant—Travels into Egypt—Despatched by St. Louis on
    a mission into Tartary—Constantinople—Black Sea—Traverses the
    Crimea—Imagines himself in a new world—Moving city—Extreme
    ugliness of the Tartars—Desert of Kipjak—Tombs of the
    Comans—Crosses the Tanais—Travels on foot—Camp of Sartak—Goes
    to court—Religious procession—Departs—Reaches the camp
    of Batou—Is extremely terrified—Makes a speech to the
    khan—Is commanded to advance farther into Tartary—Suffers
    extraordinary privations—Travels four months over the steppes
    of Tartary—Miraculous old age of the pope—Wild asses—Distant
    view of the Caucasus—Orrighers—Point of prayer—Buddhists—Court
    of Mangou Khan—Audience—Appearance and behaviour of the
    emperor—Karakorum—Disputes with the idolaters—Golden
    fountain—Returns to Syria                                      Page 17

                               MARCO POLO.

                          Born 1250.—Died 1324.

    Departure of the father and uncle of Marco from
    Venice—Bulgaria—Wanders through Turkestan—Sanguinary wars—Cross
    the Gihon and remain three years at Bokhāra—Travels to
    Cathay—Cambalu—Honourably received by Kublai Khan—Return as
    the khan’s ambassador to Italy—Family misfortunes—Return
    with Marco into Asia—Armenia—Persia—The assassins—City of
    Balkh—Falls ill on the road—Is detained a whole year in the
    province of Balashghan—Curious productions of the country,
    and the singular manners of its inhabitants—Khoten—Desert
    of Lop—Wonders of this desert—Shatcheu and Khamil—Barbarous
    custom—Chinchintalas—Salamander linen—Desert of Shomo—Enormous
    cattle—Musk deer—Beautiful cranes—Stupendous palace of
    Chandu—Arrives at Cambalu—Acquires the language of the country,
    and is made an ambassador—Description of Kublai Khan—Imperial
    harem—Nursery of beauty—Palace of Cambalu—Pretension of the
    Chinese to the invention of artillery—Magnificence of the
    khan—Paper-money—Roads—Post-horses—Religion—Fertility—Tibet—Bloody
    footsteps of war—Wild beasts—Abominable manners—Strange
    clothing and money—The Dalai Lama—Murder of travellers—Teeth
    plated with gold—Preposterous custom—Magical
    physicians—Southern China—Emperor Fanfur—Anecdote—Prodigious
    city—Extremes of wealth and poverty—Hackney-coaches and public
    gardens—Manufacture of porcelain—Returns to Italy—The Polos
    are forgotten by their relatives—Curious mode of proving their
    identity—Marco taken prisoner by the Genoese—Writes his travels
    in captivity—Returns to Venice—Dies                                 30

                               IBN BATŪTA.

                    Born about 1300.—Died after 1353.

    Commences his travels—Romantic character—Arrives in
    Egypt—Kalenders—Sweetness of the Nile—Anecdote of an
    Arabian poet—Prophecy—Visits Palestine—Mount Lebanon—Visits
    Mecca—Miracles—Gratitude of Ibn Batūta—Patron of
    Mariners—Visits Yemen—Fish-eating cattle—Use of the
    Betel-leaf—Pearl-divers—Curious brotherhood—Krim Tartary—Land
    of darkness—Greek sultana—Mawaradnahr—Enters India—Arrives at
    Delhi—Loses a daughter, and is made a judge—Is extravagant
    in prosperity—Falls into disgrace, and is near losing his
    head—Becomes a fakeer—Is restored to favour—Sent upon an
    embassy to China—Is taken prisoner—Escapes—Mysterious
    adventure—Travels to Malabar—Is reduced to beggary—Turn of
    fortune—Visits the Maldive Islands—Marries four wives—New
    version of the story of Andromeda—Sees a spectre ship—Visits
    Ceylon—Adam’s Peak—Wonderful rose, with the name of God upon
    it—Sails for Maabar—Is taken by pirates—Visits his son in the
    Maldives—Sails for Sumatra, and China—Paper-money—Meets with
    an old friend—The desire of revisiting home awakened—Returns
    to Tangiers—Visits Spain—Crosses the desert of Sahara—Visits
    Timbuctoo—Settles at Fez                                            69

                             LEO AFRICANUS.

                    Born about 1486.—Died after 1540.

    Born at Grenada—Educated at Fez—Visits Timbuctoo—Anecdote
    of a Mohammedan general—Adventures among the snowy
    wilds of Mount Atlas—Visits the Bedouins of Northern
    Africa—Resides in the kingdom of Morocco—People living in
    baskets—Unknown ruins in Mount Dedas—Troglodytes—Travels
    with a Moorish chief—Visits the city of Murderers—Adventure
    with lions—Clouds of locusts—Is nearly stung to death by
    fleas—Beautiful scenery—Tradition concerning the prophet
    Jonah—Is engaged in a whimsical adventure among the
    mountains—Jew artisans—Hospitality—Witnesses a bloody
    battle—Delightful solitude—Romantic lake—Fishing and
    hunting—Arabic poetry—Excursions through Fez—Ruins of
    Rabat—Visits Telemsan and Algiers—Desert—Antelopes—Elegant
    little city—City of Telemsan—History of a Mohammedan
    saint—Description of Algiers—Barbarossa and Charles
    V.—City of Kosantina—Ancient ruins and gardens—City
    mentioned in Paradise Lost—Carthage—Segelmessa—Crosses
    the Great Desert—Tremendous desolation—Story of two
    merchants—Description of Timbuctoo—Women—Costume—Course
    of the Niger—Bornou—Nubia—Curious poison—Egypt—Ruins of
    Thebes—Cairo—Crime of a Mohammedan saint—Dancing camels and
    asses—Curious anecdote of a mountebank—Ladies of Cairo—Is taken
    by pirates, and sold as a slave—Pope Leo X.—Is converted to
    Christianity—Resides in Italy, and writes his “Description of
    Africa”—Date of his death unknown                                  109

                           PIETRO DELLA VALLE.

                          Born 1586.—Died 1652.

    Born at Rome—Education and early life—Sails from
    Venice—Constantinople—Plain of Troy—Manuscript of Livy—The
    plague—Visits Egypt—Mount Sinai—Palestine—Crosses the northern
    desert of Arabia—An Assyrian beauty—Falls in love from the
    description of a fellow-traveller—Arrives at Bagdad—Tragical
    event—Visits the ruins of Babylon—Marries—Beauty of his
    wife—Departure from Bagdad—Mountains of Kurdistan—Enters
    Persia—Ispahan—Wishes to make a crusade against the
    Turks—Travels, with his harem, towards the Caspian Sea—Tragical
    adventure of Signora della Valle—Arrives at Mazenderan—Enters
    into the service of the shah, and is admitted to an
    audience—Expedition against the Turks—Pietro does not engage
    in the action—Disgusted with war—Returns to Ispahan—Domestic
    misfortunes—Visits the shores of the Persian Gulf—Sickness
    and Maani—Pietro embalms the body of his wife, and carries
    it about with him through all his travels—Sails for India,
    accompanied by a young orphan Georgian girl—Arrives at
    Surat—Cambay—Ahmedabad—Goa—Witnesses a suttee—Returns to the
    Persian Gulf—Muskat—Is robbed in the desert, but preserves the
    body of his wife—Arrives in Italy—Magnificent funeral and tomb
    of Maani—Marries again—Dies at Rome                                149

                        JEAN BAPTISTE TAVERNIER.

                     Born 1602.—Died 1685, or 1686.

    Native of Antwerp—Commences his adventures at a very early
    age—Visits England and Germany—Becomes page to a viceroy
    of Hungary—Visits Italy—Narrowly escapes death at the
    siege of Mantua—Ratisbon—Imperial coronation—Tragical
    event—Turkey—Persia—Hindostan—Anecdote of a Mogul prince—Visits
    the diamond mines—Vast temple—Dancing girls—Mines of Raolconda
    in the Carnatic—Mode of digging out the diamonds—Mode
    of trafficking in jewels—Boy merchants—Anecdote of a
    Banyan—Receives alarming news from Golconda—Returns—Finds
    his property secure—Mines of Colour—Sixty thousand persons
    employed in these mines—Mines of—Sumbhulpoor—Magical
    jugglers—Miraculous tree—Extraordinary accident at
    Ahmedabad—Arrival at Delhi—Palace and jewels of the Great
    Mogul—Crosses the Ganges—Visits the city of Benares—Islands of
    the Indian Ocean—Returns to France—Marries—Sets up an expensive
    establishment—Honoured with letters of nobility—Purchases a
    barony—Dissipates his fortune, and sets out once more for the
    East, at the age of eighty-three—Is lost upon the Volga            180

                            FRANÇOIS BERNIER.

                       Born about 1624.—Died 1688.

    A native of Angers—Educated for the medical profession—Visits
    Syria and Egypt—Is ill of the plague at Rosetta—Anecdote
    of an Arab servant—Visits Mount Sinai—Sails down the Red
    Sea—Mokha—King of Abyssinia—Bargains with a father for his
    own son—Sails for India—Becomes physician to the Great
    Mogul—Is in the train of Dara, brother to Aurungzebe, during
    his disastrous flight towards the Indus—Is deserted by the
    prince—Falls among banditti—Exerts the powers of Esculapius
    among the barbarians—Escapes—Proceeds to Delhi—Becomes
    physician to the favourite of Aurungzebe—Converses with the
    ambassadors of the Usbecks, and dines on horse-flesh—Anecdote
    of a Tartar girl—Description of Delhi—Mussulman music—Enters
    the imperial harem blindfold—Description of the imperial
    palace—The hall of audience, and the peacock throne—Tomb of
    Nourmahal—The emperor departs for Cashmere—Bernier travels
    in the imperial train—Plains of Lahore—Magnificent style
    of travelling—Tremendous heat—Enters Cashmere—Description
    of this earthly paradise—Shawls—Beautiful cascades—Fearful
    accident—Returns to Delhi—Extravagant flattery—Effects
    of an eclipse of the sun—Visits Bengal—Sails up the
    Sunderbund—Fireflies—Lunar rainbows—Returns to France, and
    publishes his travels—Character                                    205

                            SIR JOHN CHARDIN.

                          Born 1643.—Died 1713.

    Born at Paris—Son of a Protestant jeweller—Visits Persia and
    Hindostan—Returns to France—Publishes his History of the
    Coronation of Solyman III.—Again departs for Persia—Visits
    Constantinople—Sails up the Black Sea—Caviare—Salt
    marshes—Beautiful slaves—Arrives in Mingrelia—Tremendous
    anarchy—Is surrounded by dangers—Arrives at a convent
    of Italian monks—Is visited by a princess, and menaced
    with a wife—Buries his wealth—The monastery attacked
    and rifled—His treasures escape—Narrowly escapes with
    life—Leaves his wealth buried in the ground, and sets out
    for Georgia—Returns into Mingrelia with a monk, and the
    property is at length withdrawn—Crosses the Caucasus—Traverses
    Georgia—Armenia—Travels through the Orion—Arrives at Eryvan—Is
    outwitted by a Persian khan—Traverses the plains of ancient
    Media—Druidical monuments—Ruins of Rhe, the Rhages of the
    Scriptures—Kom—An accident—Arrives at Ispahan—Commences
    his negotiations with the court for the disposal of his
    jewels—Modes of dealing in Persia—Character of Sheïkh Ali
    Khan—Anecdote of the shah—Is introduced to the vizier, and
    engaged in a long series of disputes with the nazir respecting
    the value of his jewels—Curious mode of transacting business—Is
    flattered, abused, and cheated by the nazir—Visits the ruins
    of Persepolis—Description of the subterranean passages of
    the palace—Arrives at Bander-Abassi—Is seized with the
    gulf fever—Reduced to the brink of death—Flies from the
    pestilence—Is cured by a Persian physician—Extraordinary
    method of treating fever—Visits the court—Is presented to
    the shah—Returns to Europe—Selects England for his future
    country—Is knighted by Charles II., and sent as envoy to
    Holland—Writes his travels—Dies in the neighborhood of London      233

                           ENGELBERT KÆMPFER.

                          Born 1651.—Died 1716.

    A native of Westphalia—Education and early Life—Becomes
    secretary to the Swedish Embassy to Persia—Visits
    Russia—Crosses the Caspian Sea—Visits the city of Baku—Curious
    adventure—Visits the promontory of Okesra—Burning
    field—Fire worshippers—Curious experiment—Fountains of white
    naphtha—Hall of naphtha—Arrives at Ispahan—Visits the ruins
    of Persepolis—Description of Shiraz—Tombs of Hafiz and
    Saadi—Resides at Bander-Abassi—Is attacked by the endemic
    fever—Recovers—Retires to the mountains of Laristân—Mountains
    of Bonna—Serpent—Chameleons—Animal in whose stomach the bezoar
    is found—Sails for India—Arrives at Batavia—Visits Siam—Sails
    along the coast of China—Strange birds—Storms—Arrival in
    Japan—Journey to Jeddo—Audience of the emperor—Manners
    and customs of the Japanese—Returns to Europe—Marries—Is
    unfortunate—Publishes his “Amœnitates”—Dies—His manuscripts
    published by Sir Hans Sloane                                       271

                            HENRY MAUNDRELL.

    Appointed chaplain to the English factory at Aleppo—Sets out
    on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem—Crosses the Orontes—Wretched
    village—Inhospitable villagers—Takes refuge from a tempest in
    a Mussulman tomb—Distant view of Latichen—Syrian worshippers
    of Venus—Tripoli—River of Adonis—Maronite convents—Palace
    and gardens of Fakreddin—Sidon—Cisterns of Solomon—Mount
    Carmel—Plains of Esdraelon—Dews of Hermon—Jerusalem—Jericho—The
    Jordan—The Dead Sea—Apples of Sodom—Bethlehem—Mount
    Lebanon—Damascus—Baalbec—The cedars—Returns to
    Aleppo—Conclusion                                                  305




THE LIVES OF CELEBRATED TRAVELLERS.




WILLIAM DE RUBRUQUIS.

Born about 1220.—Died after 1293.


The conquests of Genghis Khan and his successors, extending from the
Amoor and the Chinese Wall to the confines of Poland and Hungary, having
excited extraordinary terror in the minds of the Christian princes of
Europe, many of them, and particularly the pope and the King of France,
despatched ambassadors into Tartary, rather as spies to observe the
strength and weakness of the country, and the real character of its
inhabitants, than for any genuine diplomatic purposes. Innocent IV.
commenced those anomalous negotiations, by sending, in 1246 and 1247,
ambassadors into Mongolia to the Great Khan, as well as to his lieutenant
in Persia. These ambassadors, as might be expected, were monks, religious
men being in those times almost the only persons possessing any talent
for observation, or the knowledge necessary to record their observations
for the benefit of those who sent them. The first embassy from the pope
terminated unsuccessfully, as did likewise the maiden effort of St.
Louis; but this pious monarch, whose zeal overpowered his good sense,
still imagined that the conversion of the Great Khan, which formed an
important part of his design, was far from being impracticable; and
upon the idle rumour that one of his nephews had embraced Christianity,
and thus opened a way for the Gospel into his dominions, St. Louis in
1253 despatched a second mission into Tartary, at the head of which was
William de Rubruquis.

This celebrated monk was a native of Brabant, who, having travelled
through France, and several other countries of Europe, had passed
over, perhaps with the army of St. Louis, into Egypt, from whence he
had proceeded to the Holy Land. Of this part of his travels no account
remains. When intrusted, however, with the mission into Tartary, he
repaired to Constantinople, whence, having publicly offered up his
prayers to God in the church of St. Sophia, he departed on the 7th of
May, with his companions, and moving along the southern shore of the
Black Sea, arrived at Sinopia, where he embarked for the Crimea. From an
opinion that any indignities which might be offered to Rubruquis would
compromise the dignity of the king, it had been agreed between Louis and
his agent that, on the way at least, the latter should pretend to no
public character, but feign religious motives, as if he had been urged
by his own private zeal to endeavour the conversion of the khan and his
subjects. Upon reaching Soldaza in the Crimea, however, he discovered
that, secret as their proceedings were supposed to have been, the whole
scheme of the enterprise was perfectly understood; and that, unless as
the envoy of the king, he would not be permitted to continue his journey.

Rubruquis had no sooner entered the dominions of the Tartars than
he imagined himself to be in a new world. The savage aspect of the
people, clad in the most grotesque costume, and eternally on horseback,
together with the strange appearance of the country, the sound of
unknown languages, the practice of unusual customs, and that feeling
of loneliness and desertion which seized upon their minds, caused our
traveller and his companions to credit somewhat too readily the deceptive
testimony of first impressions, which never strictly corresponds with
truth. Travelling in those covered wagons which serve the Tartars for
carriages, tents, and houses, and through immense steppes in which
neither town, village, house, nor any other building, save a few antique
tombs, appeared, they arrived in a few weeks at the camp of Zagatay Khan,
which, from the number of those moving houses there collected, and ranged
in long lines upon the edge of a lake, appeared like an immense city.

Here they remained some days in order to repose themselves, and then
set forward, with guides furnished them by Zagatay, towards the camp
of Sartak, the prince to whom the letters of St. Louis were addressed.
The rude and rapacious manners of the Tartars, rendered somewhat more
insolent than ordinary, perhaps, by the unaccommodating temper of their
guests, appeared so detestable to Rubruquis, that, to use his own
forcible expression, he seemed to be passing through one of the gates of
hell; and his ideas were probably tinged with a more sombre hue by the
hideous features of the people, whose countenances continually kept up in
his mind the notion that he had fallen among a race of demons. As they
approached the Tanais the land rose occasionally into lofty hills, which
were succeeded by plains upon which nothing but the immense tombs of the
Comans, visible at a distance of two leagues, met the eye.

Having crossed the Tanais and entered Asia, they were for several days
compelled to proceed on foot, there being neither horses nor oxen to be
obtained for money. Forests and rivers here diversified the prospect.
The inhabitants, a fierce, uncivilized race, bending beneath the yoke of
pagan superstition, and dwelling in huts scattered through the woods,
were yet hospitable to strangers, and so inaccessible to the feelings
of jealousy that they cared not upon whom their wives bestowed their
favours. Hogs, wax, honey, and furs of various kinds constituted the
whole of their wealth. At length, after a long and a wearisome journey,
which was rendered doubly irksome by their ignorance of the language of
the people, and the stupid and headstrong character of their interpreter,
they arrived on the 1st of July at the camp of Sartak, three days’
journey west of the Volga.

The court of this Tartar prince exhibited that species of magnificence
which may be supposed most congruous with the ideas of barbarians: ample
tents, richly caparisoned horses, and gorgeous apparel.—Rubruquis and
his suit entered the royal tent in solemn procession, with their rich
clerical ornaments, church plate, and illuminated missals borne before
them, holding a splendid copy of the Scriptures in their hands, wearing
their most sumptuous vestments, and thundering forth, as they moved
along, the “Salve Regina!” This pompous movement, which gave the mission
the appearance of being persons of consequence, and thus flattered the
vanity of Sartak, was not altogether impolitic; but it had one evil
consequence; for, although it probably heightened the politeness of their
reception, the sight of their sacred vessels, curious missals, and costly
dresses excited the cupidity of the Nestorian priests, and cost Rubruquis
dearly, many valuable articles being afterward sequestrated when he was
leaving Tartary.

It now appeared that the reports of Sartak’s conversion to Christianity,
which had probably been circulated in Christendom by the vanity of the
Nestorians, were wholly without foundation; and with respect to the other
points touched upon in the letters of the French king, the khan professed
himself unable to make any reply without the counsel of his father
Batou, to whose court, therefore, he directed the ambassadors to proceed.
They accordingly recommenced their journey, and moving towards the east,
crossed the Volga, and traversed the plains of Kipjak, until they arrived
at the camp of this new sovereign, whose mighty name seems never before
to have reached their ears. Rubruquis was singularly astonished, however,
at the sight of this prodigious encampment, which covered the plain for
the space of three or four leagues, the royal tent rising like an immense
dome in the centre, with a vast open space before it on the southern side.

On the morning after their arrival they were presented to the khan. They
found Batou, the description of whose red countenance reminds the reader
of Tacitus’s portrait of Domitian, seated upon a lofty throne glittering
with gold. One of his wives sat near him, and around this lady and the
other wives of Batou, who were all present, his principal courtiers had
taken their station. Rubruquis was now commanded by his conductor to
kneel before the prince. He accordingly bent one knee, and was about to
speak, when his guide informed him by a sign that it was necessary to
bend both. This he did, and then imagining, he says, that he was kneeling
before God, in order to keep up the illusion, he commenced his speech
with an ejaculation. Having prayed that to the earthly gifts which the
Almighty had showered down so abundantly upon the khan, the favour of
Heaven might be added, he proceeded to say, that the spiritual gifts to
which he alluded could be obtained only by becoming a Christian; for
that God himself had said, “He who believeth and is baptized shall be
saved; but he who believeth not shall be damned.” At these words the khan
smiled; but his courtiers, less hospitable and polite, began to clap
their hands, and hoot and mock at the denouncer of celestial vengeance.
The interpreter, who, in all probability, wholly misrepresented the
speeches he attempted to translate, and thus, perhaps, by some
inconceivable blunders excited the derision of the Tartars, now began to
be greatly terrified, as did Rubruquis himself, who probably remembered
that the leader of a former embassy had been menaced with the fate of
St. Bartholomew. Batou, however, who seems to have compassionated his
sufferings, desired him to rise up; and turning the conversation into
another channel, began to make inquiries respecting the French king,
asking what was his name, and whether it was true that he had quitted
his own country for the purpose of carrying on a foreign war. Rubruquis
then endeavoured, but I know not with what success, to explain the
motives of the crusaders, and several other topics upon which Batou
required information. Observing that the ambassador was much dejected,
and apparently filled with terror, the khan commanded him to sit down;
and still more to reassure him and dissipate his apprehensions, ordered
a bowl of mare’s milk, or _koismos_, to be put out before him, which,
as bread and salt among the Arabs, is with them the sacred pledge of
hospitality; but perceiving that even this failed to dispel his gloomy
thoughts, he bade him look up and be of good cheer, giving him clearly to
understand that no injury was designed him.

Notwithstanding the barbaric magnificence of his court, and the terror
with which he had inspired Rubruquis, Batou was but a dependent prince,
who would not for his head have dared to determine good or evil
respecting any ambassador entering Tartary,—every thing in these matters
depending upon the sovereign will of his brother Mangou, the Great
Khan of the Mongols. Batou, in fact, caused so much to be signified to
Rubruquis, informing him, that to obtain a reply to the letters he had
brought, he must repair to the court of the Khe-Khan. When they had been
allowed sufficient time for repose, a Tartar chief was assigned them
as a guide, and being furnished with horses for themselves and their
necessary baggage, the remainder being left behind, and with sheepskin
coats to defend them from the piercing cold, they set forward towards the
camp of Mangou, then pitched near the extreme frontier of Mongolia, at
the distance of four months’ journey.

The privations and fatigue which they endured during this journey were
indescribable. Whenever they changed horses, the wily Tartar impudently
selected the best beast for himself, though Rubruquis was a large heavy
man, and therefore required a powerful animal to support his weight.
If any of their horses flagged on the way, the whip and the stick were
mercilessly plied, to compel him, whether he would or not, to keep pace
with the others, which scoured along over the interminable steppes with
the rapidity of an arrow; and when, as sometimes happened, the beast
totally foundered, the two Franks (for there were now but two, the third
having remained with Sartak) were compelled to mount, the one behind
the other, on the same horse, and thus follow their indefatigable and
unfeeling conductor. Hard riding was not, however, the only hardship
which they had to undergo. Thirst, and hunger, and cold were added
to fatigue; for they were allowed but one meal per day, which they
always ate in the evening, when their day’s journey was over. Their
food, moreover, was not extremely palatable, consisting generally of
the shoulder or ribs of some half-starved sheep, which, to increase
the savouriness of its flavour, was cooked with ox and horse-dung,
and devoured half-raw. As they advanced, their conductor, who at the
commencement regarded them with great contempt, and appears to have
been making the experiment whether hardship would kill them or not,
grew reconciled to his charge, perceiving that they would not die,
and introduced them as they proceeded to various powerful and wealthy
Mongols, who seem to have treated them kindly, offering them, in return
for their prayers, gold, and silver, and costly garments. The Hindoos,
who imagine the East India Company to be an old woman, are a type of
those sagacious Tartars, who, as Rubruquis assures us, supposed that the
pope was an old man whose beard had been blanched by five hundred winters.

On the 31st of October, they turned their horses’ heads towards the
south, and proceeded for eight days through a desert, where they beheld
large droves of wild asses, which, like those seen by the Ten Thousand
in Mesopotamia, were far too swift for the fleetest steeds. During the
seventh day, they perceived on their right the glittering peaks of the
Caucasus towering above the clouds, and arrived on the morrow at Kenkat,
a Mohammedan town, where they tasted of wine, and that delicious liquor
which the orientals extract from rice. At a city which Rubruquis calls
_Egaius_, near Lake Baikal, he found traces of the Persian language; and
shortly afterward entered the country of the Orrighers, an idolatrous, or
at least a pagan race, who worshipped with their faces towards the north,
while the east was at that period the _Kableh_, or praying-point of the
Christians.

Our traveller, though far from being intolerant for his age, had not
attained that pitch of humanity which teaches us to do to others as we
would they should do unto us; for upon entering a temple, which, from his
description, we discover to have been dedicated to Buddha, and finding
the priests engaged in their devotions, he irreverently disturbed them by
asking questions, and endeavouring to enter into conversation with them.
The Buddhists, consistently with the mildness of their religion, rebuked
this intrusion by the most obstinate silence, or by continual repetitions
of the words “Om, Om! hactavi!” which, as he was afterward informed,
signified, “Lord, Lord! thou knowest it!” These priests, like the bonzes
of China, Ava, and Siam, shaved their heads, and wore flowing yellow
garments, probably to show their contempt for the Brahminical race, among
whom yellow is the badge of the most degraded castes. They believed in
one God, and, like their Hindoo forefathers, burned their dead, and
erected pyramids over their ashes.

Continuing their journey with their usual rapidity, they arrived on the
last day of the year at the court of Mangou, who was encamped in a plain
of immeasurable extent, and as level as the sea. Here, notwithstanding
the rigour of the cold, Rubruquis, conformably to the rules of his order,
went to court barefoot,—a piece of affectation for which he afterward
suffered severely. Three or four days’ experience of the cold of Northern
Tartary cured him of this folly, however; so that by the 4th of January,
1254, when he was admitted to an audience of Mangou, he was content to
wear shoes like another person.

On entering the imperial tent, heedless of time and place, Rubruquis
and his companion began to chant the hymn “A Solis Ortu,” which, in all
probability made the khan, who understood not one word of what they said,
and knew the meaning of none of their ceremonies, regard them as madmen.
However, on this point nothing was said; only, before they advanced
into the presence they were carefully searched, lest they should have
concealed knives or daggers under their robes with which they might
assassinate the khan. Even their interpreter was compelled to leave his
belt and kharjar with the porter. Mare’s milk was placed on a low table
near the entrance, close to which they were desired to seat themselves,
upon a kind of long seat, or form, opposite the queen and her ladies. The
floor was covered with cloth of gold, and in the centre of the apartment
was a kind of open stove, in which a fire of thorns, and other dry
sticks, mingled with cow-dung, was burning. The khan, clothed in a robe
of shining fur, something resembling seal-skin, was seated on a small
couch. He was a man of about forty-five, of middling stature, with a
thick flat nose. His queen, a young and beautiful woman, was seated near
him, together with one of his daughters by a former wife, a princess of
marriageable age, and a great number of young children.

The first question put to them by the khan was, what they would drink;
there being upon the table four species of beverage,—wine, cerasine, or
rice-wine, milk, and a sort of metheglin. They replied that they were no
great drinkers, but would readily taste of whatever his majesty might
please to command; upon which the khan directed his cupbearer to place
cerasine before them. The Turcoman interpreter, who was a man of very
different mettle, and perhaps thought it a sin to permit the khan’s
wine to lie idle, had meanwhile conceived a violent affection for the
cupbearer, and had so frequently put his services in requisition, that
whether he was in the imperial tent or in a Frank tavern was to him a
matter of some doubt. Mangou himself had pledged his Christian guests
somewhat too freely; and in order to allow his brain leisure to adjust
itself, and at the same time to excite the wonder of the strangers by
his skill in falconry, commanded various kinds of birds of prey to
be brought, each of which he placed successively upon his hand, and
considered with that steady sagacity which men a little touched with wine
are fond of exhibiting.

Having assiduously regarded the birds long enough to evince his imperial
contempt of politeness, Mangou desired the ambassadors to speak.
Rubruquis obeyed, and delivered an harangue of some length, which,
considering the muddy state of the interpreter’s brain and the extremely
analogous condition of the khan’s, may very safely be supposed to have
been dispersed, like the rejected prayers of the Homeric heroes, in empty
air. In reply, as he wittily observes, Mangou made a speech, from which,
as it was translated to him, the ambassador could infer nothing except
that the interpreter was extremely drunk, and the emperor very little
better. In spite of this cloudy medium, however, he imagined he could
perceive that Mangou intended to express some displeasure at their having
in the first instance repaired to the court of Sartak rather than to his;
but observing that the interpreter’s brain was totally hostile to the
passage of rational ideas, Rubruquis wisely concluded that silence would
be his best friend on the occasion, and he accordingly addressed himself
to that moody and mysterious power, and shortly afterward received
permission to retire.

The ostensible object of Rubruquis was to obtain permission to remain
in Mongolia for the purpose of preaching the Gospel; but whether this
was merely a feint, or that the appearance of the country and people
had cooled his zeal, it is certain that he did not urge the point very
vehemently. However, the khan was easily prevailed upon to allow him to
prolong his stay till the melting of the snows and the warm breezes of
spring should render travelling more agreeable. In the mean while our
ambassador employed himself in acquiring some knowledge of the people and
the country; but the language, without which such knowledge must ever be
superficial, he totally neglected.

About Easter the khan, with his family and smaller tents or pavilions,
quitted the camp, and proceeded towards Karakorum, which might be termed
his capital, for the purpose of examining a marvellous piece of jewelry
in form of a tree, the production of a French goldsmith. This curious
piece of mechanism was set up in the banqueting-hall of his palace, and
from its branches, as from some miraculous fountain, four kinds of wines
and other delicious cordials, gushed forth for the use of the guests.
Rubruquis and his companions followed in the emperor’s train, traversing
a mountainous and steril district, where tempests, bearing snow and
intolerable cold upon their wings, swept and roared around them as they
passed, piercing through their sheep-skins and other coverings to their
very bones.

At Karakorum, a small city, which Rubruquis compares to the town of
St. Denis, near Paris, our ambassador-missionary maintained a public
disputation with certain pagan priests, in the presence of three of
the khan’s secretaries, of whom the first was a Christian, the second
a Mohammedan, and the third a Buddhist. The conduct of the khan was
distinguished by the most perfect toleration, as he commanded under
pain of death that none of the disputants should slander, traduce,
or abuse his adversaries, or endeavour by rumours or insinuations to
excite popular indignation against them; an act of mildness from which
Rubruquis, with the illiberality of a monk, inferred that Mangou was
totally indifferent to all religion. His object, however, seems to have
been to discover the truth; but from the disputes of men who argued with
each other through interpreters wholly ignorant of the subject, and none
of whom could clearly comprehend the doctrines he impugned, no great
instruction was to be derived. Accordingly, the dispute ended, as all
such disputes must, in smoke; and each disputant retired from the field
more fully persuaded than ever of the invulnerable force of his own
system.

At length, perceiving that nothing was to be effected, and having,
indeed, no very definite object to effect, excepting the conversion of
the khan, which to a man who could not even converse with him upon the
most ordinary topic, seemed difficult, Rubruquis took his leave of the
Mongol court, and leaving his companion at Karakorum, turned his face
towards the west. Returning by an easier or more direct route, he reached
the camp of Batou in two months. From thence he proceeded to the city
of Sarai on the Volga, and descending along the course of that river,
entered Danghistan, crossed the Caucasus, and pursued his journey through
Georgia, Armenia, and Asia Minor, to Syria.

Here he discovered that, taught by misfortune or yielding to the force
of circumstances, the French king had relinquished, at least for the
present, his mad project of recovering Palestine. He was therefore
desirous of proceeding to Europe, for the purpose of rendering this
prince an account of his mission; but this being contrary to the wishes
of his superiors, who had assigned him the convent of Acra for his
retreat, he contented himself with drawing up an account of his travels,
which was forwarded, by the first opportunity that occurred, to St. Louis
in France. Rubruquis then retired to his convent, in the gloom of whose
cloisters he thenceforward concealed himself from the eyes of mankind. It
has been ascertained, however, that he was still living in 1293, though
the exact date of his death is unknown.

The work of Rubruquis was originally written in Latin, from which
language a portion of it was translated into English and published by
Hackluyt. Shortly afterward Purchas published a new version of the whole
work in his collection. From this version Bergeron made his translation
into French, with the aid of a Latin manuscript, which Vander Aa and the
“Biographie Universelle” have multiplied into two. In all or any of these
forms, the work may still be read with great pleasure and advantage by
the diligent student of the opinions and manners of mankind.




MARCO POLO.

Born 1250.—Died 1324.


The relations of Ascelin, Carpini, and Rubruquis, which are supposed
by some writers to have opened the way to the discoveries of the Polo
family, are by no means entitled to so high an honour. Carpini did not
return to Italy until the latter end of the year 1248; Ascelin’s return
was still later; and although reports of the strange things they had
beheld no doubt quickly reached Venice, these cannot be supposed to
have exercised any very powerful influence in determining Nicolo and
Maffio to undertake a voyage to Constantinople, the original place of
their destination, from whence they were accidentally led on into the
extremities of Tartary. With respect to Rubruquis, he commenced his
undertaking three years after their departure from Venice, while they
were in Bokhāra; and before his return to Palestine they had already
penetrated into Cathay. The influence of the relations of these monks
upon the movements of the Polos is therefore imaginary.

Nicolo and Maffio Polo, two noble Venetians engaged in commerce, having
freighted a vessel with rich merchandise, sailed from Venice in the year
1250. Traversing the Mediterranean and the Bosphorus, they arrived in
safety at Constantinople, Baldwin II. being then Emperor of the East.
Here they disposed of their cargo, and purchasing rich jewels with the
proceeds, crossed the Black Sea to Soldain, or Sudak, in the Crimea,
from whence they travelled by land to the court of Barkah Khan, a Tartar
prince, whose principal residences were the cities of Al-Serai, and
Bolghar. To this khan they presented a number of their finest jewels,
receiving gifts of still greater value in return. When they had spent
a whole year in the dominions of Barkah, and were beginning to prepare
for their return to Italy, hostilities suddenly broke out between the
khan and his cousin Holagon; which, rendering unsafe all passages
to the west, compelled them to make the circuit of the northern and
eastern frontiers of Kipjak. Having escaped from the scene of war they
crossed Gihon, and then traversing a desert of seventeen days’ journey,
thinly sprinkled with the tents of the wandering tribes, they arrived
at Bokhāra. Here they remained three years. At the termination of this
period an ambassador from Holagon to Kublai Khan passing through Bokhāra,
and happening accidentally to meet with the Polos, who had by this time
acquired a competent knowledge of the Tartar language, was greatly
charmed with their conversation and manners, and by much persuasion
and many magnificent promises prevailed upon them to accompany him to
Cambalu, or Khanbalik, in Cathay. A whole year was consumed in this
journey. At length, however, they arrived at the court of the Great Khan,
who received and treated them with peculiar distinction.

How long the brothers remained at Cambalu is not known; but their
residence, whatever may have been its length, sufficed to impress Kublai
Khan with an exalted opinion of their honour and capacity, so that when
by the advice of his courtiers he determined on sending an embassy to the
pope, Nicolo and Maffio were intrusted with the conduct of the mission.
They accordingly departed from Cambalu, furnished with letters for the
head of the Christian church, a passport or tablet of gold, empowering
them to provide themselves with guides, horses, and provisions throughout
the khan’s dominions, and accompanied by a Tartar nobleman. This Tartar
falling exceedingly ill on the way, they proceeded alone, and, after
three years of toil and dangers, arrived at Venice in 1269.

Nicolo, who, during the many years he had been absent, seems to have
received no intelligence from home, now found that his wife, whom he
had left pregnant at his departure, was dead, but that she had left him
a son, named Marco, then nineteen years old. The pope, likewise, had
died the preceding year; and various intrigues preventing the election
of a successor, they remained in Italy two years, unable to execute the
commission of the khan. At length, fearing that their long absence might
be displeasing to Kublai, and perceiving no probability of a speedy
termination to the intrigues of the conclave, they, in 1271, again set
out for the East, accompanied by young Marco.

Arriving in Palestine, they obtained from the legate Visconti, then at
Acre, letters testifying their fidelity to the Great Khan, and stating
the fact that a new pope had not yet been chosen. At Al-Ajassi, in
Armenia, however, they were overtaken by a messenger from Visconti, who
wrote to inform them that he himself had been elected to fill the papal
throne, and requested that they would either return, or delay their
departure until he could provide them with new letters to the khan. As
soon as these letters and the presents of his holiness arrived, they
continued their journey, and passing through the northern provinces of
Persia, were amused with the extraordinary history of the Assassins, then
recently destroyed by a general of Holagon.

Quitting Persia, they proceeded through a rich and picturesque country
to Balkh, a celebrated city, which they found in ruins and nearly
deserted, its lofty walls and marble palaces having been levelled
with the ground by the devastating armies of the Mongols. The country
in the neighbourhood had likewise been depopulated, the inhabitants
having taken refuge in the mountains from the rapacious cruelty of the
predatory hordes, who roamed over the vast fields which greater robbers
had reaped, gleaning the scanty plunder which had escaped their powerful
predecessors. Though the land was well watered and fertile, and abounding
in game, lions and other wild beasts had begun to establish their
dominion over it, man having disappeared; and therefore, such travellers
as ventured across this new wilderness were constrained to carry along
with them all necessary provisions, nothing whatever being to be found on
the way.

When they had passed this desert, they arrived in a country richly
cultivated and covered with corn, to the south of which there was a ridge
of high mountains, where such prodigious quantities of salt were found
that all the world might have been supplied from those mines. The track
of our travellers through the geographical labyrinth of Tartary it is
impossible to follow. They appear to have been prevented by accidents
from pursuing any regular course, in one place having their passage
impeded by the overflowing of a river, and on other occasions being
turned aside by the raging of bloody wars, by the heat or barrenness, or
extent of deserts, or by their utter inability to procure guides through
tracts covered with impervious forests or perilous morasses.

They next proceeded through a fertile country, inhabited by Mohammedans,
to the town of Scasom, perhaps the Koukan of Arrowsmith, on the Sirr
or Sihon. Numerous castles occupied the fastnesses of the mountains,
while the shepherd tribes, like the troglodytes of old, dwelt with their
herds and flocks in caverns scooped out of the rock. In three days’
journey from hence they reached the province of Balascia, or Balashghan,
where, Marco falling sick, the party were detained during a whole
year, a delay which afforded our illustrious traveller ample leisure
for prosecuting his researches respecting this and the neighbouring
countries. The kings of this petty sovereignty pretended to trace their
descent from the Macedonian conqueror and the daughter of Darius; making
up, by the fabulous splendour of their genealogy, for their want of
actual power. The inhabitants were Mohammedans, and spoke a language
peculiar to themselves. It was said, that not many years previous they
had possessed a race of horses equally illustrious with their kings,
being descended from Bucephalus; but as it was asserted that these noble
animals possessed one great advantage over their kings, that of bearing
upon their foreheads the peculiar mark which distinguished the great
founder of their family, thus proving the purity of the breed, they very
prudently added that the whole race had recently been exterminated.

This country was rich in minerals and precious stones, lead, copper,
silver, lapis lazuli, and rubies abounding in the mountains. The climate
was cold, and that of the plains insalubrious, engendering agues, which
quickly yielded, however, to the bracing air of the hills; where Marco,
after languishing for a whole year with this disorder, recovered his
health in the course of a few days. The horses were large, strong, and
swift, and had hoofs so tough that they could travel unshod over the most
rocky places. Vast flocks of wild sheep, exceedingly difficult to be
taken, were found in the hills.

Marco’s health being restored, our travellers resumed their journey
towards Cathay, and proceeding in a north-easterly direction, arrived
at the roots of a vast mountain, reported by the inhabitants to be the
loftiest in the world. Having continued for three days ascending the
steep approaches to this mountain, they reached an extensive table-land,
hemmed in on both sides by still loftier mountains, and having a great
lake in its centre. A fine river likewise flowed through it, and
maintained so extraordinary a degree of fertility in the pastures upon
its banks, that an ox or horse brought lean to these plains would become
fat in ten days. Great numbers of wild animals were found here, among the
rest a species of wild sheep with horns six spans in length, from which
numerous drinking-vessels were made. This immense plain, notwithstanding
its fertility, was uninhabited, and the severity of the cold prevented
its being frequented by birds. Fire, too, it was asserted, did not here
burn so brightly, or produce the same effect upon food, as in other
places: an observation which has recently been made on the mountains of
Savoy and Switzerland.

From this plain they proceeded along the foot of the Allak mountains
to the country of Kashgar, which, possessing a fertile soil, and an
industrious and ingenious population, was maintained in a high state
of cultivation, and beautified with numerous gardens, orchards, and
vineyards. From Kashgar they travelled to Yarkand, where the inhabitants,
like those of the valleys of the Pyrenees, were subject to the goitres,
or large wens upon the throat. To this province succeeded that of
Khoten, whence our word _cotton_ has been derived. The inhabitants of
this country, an industrious but unwarlike race, were of the Mohammedan
religion, and tributaries to the Great Khan. Proceeding in their
south-easterly direction, they passed through the city of Peym, where,
if a husband or wife were absent from home twenty days, the remaining
moiety might marry again; and pursuing their course through sandy
barren plains, arrived at the country of Sartem. Here the landscape was
enlivened by numerous cities and castles; but when the storm of war burst
upon them, the inhabitants, like the Arabs, relied upon famine as their
principal weapon against the enemy, retiring with their wives, children,
treasures, and provisions, into the desert, whither none could follow
them. To secure their subsistence from plunder, they habitually scooped
out their granaries in the depths of the desert, where, after harvest,
they annually buried their corn in deep pits, over which the wind soon
spread the wavy sand as before, obliterating all traces of their labours.
They themselves, however, possessed some unerring index to the spot,
which enabled them at all times to discover their hoards. Chalcedonies,
jaspers, and other precious stones were found in the rivers of this
province.

Here some insurmountable obstacle preventing their pursuing a direct
course, they deviated towards the north, and in five days arrived at
the city of Lop, on the border of the desert of the same name. This
prodigious wilderness, the most extensive in Asia, could not, as was
reported, be traversed from west to east in less than a year; while,
proceeding from south to north, a month’s journey conducted the traveller
across its whole latitude. Remaining some time at the city of Lop, or
Lok, to make the necessary preparations for the journey, they entered the
desert. In all those fearful scenes where man is constrained to compare
his own insignificance with the magnificent and resistless power of the
elements, legends, accommodated to the nature of the place, abound,
peopling the frozen deep or the “howling wilderness” with poetical
horrors superadded to those which actually exist. On the present occasion
their Tartar companions, or guides, entertained our travellers with the
wild tales current in the country. Having dwelt sufficiently upon the
tremendous sufferings which famine or want of water sometimes inflicted
upon the hapless merchant in those inhospitable wastes, they added, from
their legendary stores, that malignant demons continually hovered in the
cold blast or murky cloud which nightly swept over the sands. Delighting
in mischief, they frequently exerted their supernatural powers in
steeping the senses of travellers in delusion, sometimes calling them
by their names, practising upon their sight, or, by raising up phantom
shapes, leading them astray, and overwhelming them in the sands. Upon
other occasions, the ears of the traveller were delighted with the sounds
of music which these active spirits, like Shakspeare’s Ariel, scattered
through the dusky air; or were saluted with that sweetest of all music,
the voice of friends. Then, suddenly changing their mood, the beat of
drums, the clash of arms, and a stream of footfalls, and of the tramp of
hoofs, were heard, as if whole armies were marching past in the darkness.
Such as were deluded by any of these arts, and separated, whether by
night or day, from their caravan, generally lost themselves in the
pathless wilds, and perished miserably of hunger. To prevent this danger,
travellers kept close together, and suspended little bells about the
necks of their beasts; and when any of their party unfortunately lagged
behind, they carefully fixed up marks along their route, in order to
enable them to follow.

Having safely traversed this mysterious desert, they arrived at the
city of Shatcheu, on the Polonkir, in Tangut. Here the majority of the
inhabitants were pagans and polytheists, and their various gods possessed
numerous temples in different parts of the city. Marco, who was a
diligent inquirer into the creed and religious customs of the nations he
visited, discovered many singular traits of superstition at Shatcheu.
When a son was born in a family, he was immediately consecrated to some
one of their numerous gods; and a sheep, yeaned, perhaps, on the birthday
of the child, was carefully kept and fed in the house during a whole
year: at the expiration of which term both the child and the sheep were
carried to the temple, and offered as a sacrifice to the god. The god,
or, which was the same thing, the priests, accepted the sheep, which
they could eat, in lieu of the boy, whom they could not; and the meat
being dressed in the temple, that the deity might be refreshed with the
sweet-smelling savour, was then conveyed to the father’s dwelling, where
a sumptuous feast ensued, at which it may be safely inferred the servants
of the temple were not forgotten. At all events, the priests received the
head, feet, skin, and entrails, with a portion of the flesh, for their
share. The bones were preserved, probably for purposes of divination.

Their exit from life was celebrated with as much pomp as their entrance
into it. Astrologers, the universal pests of the east, were immediately
consulted; and these, having learned the year, month, day, and hour
in which the deceased was born, interrogated the stars, and by their
mute but significant replies discovered the precise moment on which the
interment was to take place. Sometimes these oracles of the sky became
sullen, and for six months vouchsafed no answer to the astrologers,
during all which time the corpse remained in a species of purgatory,
uncertain of its doom. To prevent the dead from keeping the living in
the same state, however, the body, having been previously embalmed, was
enclosed in a coffin so artificially constructed that no offensive odour
could escape; while, as the soul was supposed to hover all this while
over its ancient tenement, and to require, as formerly, some kind of
earthly sustenance, food was daily placed before the deceased, that the
spirit might satisfy its appetite with the agreeable effluvia. When the
day of interment arrived, the astrologers, who would have lost their
credit had they always allowed things to proceed in a rational way,
sometimes commanded the body to be borne out through an opening made for
the purpose in the wall, professing to be guided in this matter by the
stars, who, having no other employment, were extremely solicitous that
all Tartars should be interred in due form. On the way from the house of
the deceased to the cemetery, wooden cottages with porches covered with
silk were erected at certain intervals, in which the coffin was set down
before a table covered with bread, wine, and other delicacies, that the
spirit might be refreshed with the savour. The procession was accompanied
by all the musical instruments in the city; and along with the body were
borne representations upon paper of servants of both sexes, horses,
camels, money, and costly garments, all of which were consumed with the
corpse on the funeral pile, instead of the realities, which, according to
Herodotus, were anciently offered up as a sacrifice to the manes at the
tombs of the Scythian chiefs.

Turning once more towards the north, they entered the fertile and
agreeable province of Khamil, situated between the vast desert of Lop and
another smaller desert, only three days’ journey across. The natives of
this country, practical disciples of Aristippus, being of opinion that
pleasure is happiness, seemed to live only for amusement, devoting the
whole of their time to singing, dancing, music, and literature. Their
hospitality, like that of the knights of chivalry, was so boundlessly
profuse, that strangers were permitted to share, not only their board,
but their bed, the master of a family departing when a guest arrived, in
order to render him more completely at home with his wife and daughters.
To increase the value of this extraordinary species of hospitality, it is
added that the women of Khamil are beautiful, and as fully disposed as
their lords to promote the happiness of their guests. Mangou Khan, the
predecessor of Kublai, desirous of reforming the morals of his subjects,
whatever might be the fate of his own, abolished this abominable custom;
but years of scarcity and domestic afflictions ensuing, the people
petitioned to have the right of following their ancestral customs
restored to them. “Since you glory in your shame,” said Mangou to
their ambassadors, “you may go and act according to your customs.”
The flattering privilege was received with great rejoicings, and the
practice, strange as it may be, has continued up to the present day.

Departing from this Tartarian Sybaris, they entered the province of
Chinchintalas, a country thickly peopled, and rich in mines, but chiefly
remarkable for that salamander species of linen, manufactured from
the slender fibres of the asbestos, which was cleansed from stains by
being cast into the fire. Then followed the district of Sucher, in the
mountains of which the best rhubarb in the world was found. They next
directed their course towards the north-east, and having completed the
passage of the desert of Shomo, which occupied forty days, arrived at the
city of Karakorum, compared by Rubruquis to the insignificant town of
St. Denis, in France, but said by Marco Polo to have been three miles in
circumference, and strongly fortified with earthen ramparts.

Our travellers now turned their faces towards the south, and traversing
an immense tract of country which Marco considered unworthy of minute
description, passed the boundaries of Mongolia, and entered Cathay.
During this journey they travelled through a district in which were found
enormous wild cattle, nearly approaching the size of the elephant, and
clothed with a fine, soft, black and white hair, in many respects more
beautiful than silk, specimens of which Marco procured and brought home
with him to Venice on his return. Here, likewise, the best musk in the
world was found. The animal from which it was procured resembled a goat
in size, but in gracefulness and beauty bore a stronger likeness to the
antelope, except that it had no horns. On the belly of this animal there
appeared, every full moon, a small protuberance or excrescence, like a
thin silken bag, filled with the liquid perfume; to obtain which the
animal was hunted and slain. This bag was then severed from the body,
and its contents, when dried, were distributed at an enormous price over
the world, to scent the toilets and the persons of beauties in reality
more sweet than itself.

Near Changanor, at another point of their journey, they saw one of the
khan’s palaces, which was surrounded by beautiful gardens, containing
numerous small lakes and rivulets and a prodigious number of swans. The
neighbouring plains abounded in partridges, pheasants, and other game,
among which are enumerated five species of cranes, some of a snowy
whiteness, others with black wings, their feathers being ornamented with
eyes like those of the peacock, but of a golden colour, with beautiful
black and white necks. Immense flocks of quails and partridges were found
in a valley near this city, where millet and other kinds of grain were
sown for them by order of the khan, who likewise appointed a number of
persons to watch over the birds, and caused huts to be erected in which
they might take shelter and be fed by their keepers during the severity
of the winter. By these means, the khan had at all times a large quantity
of game at his command.

At Chandu, three days’ journey south-west of Changanor, they beheld the
stupendous palace which Kublai Khan had erected in that city. Neither
the dimensions nor the architecture are described by Marco Polo, but
it is said to have been constructed, with singular art and beauty, of
marble and other precious materials. The grounds of this palace, which
were surrounded by a wall, were sixteen miles in circumference, and
were beautifully laid out into meadows, groves, and lawns, watered by
sparkling streams, and abundantly stocked with red and fallow deer, and
other animals of the chase. In this park the khan had a mew of falcons,
which, when at the palace, he visited once a week, and caused to be fed
with the flesh of young fawns. Tame leopards were employed in hunting the
stag, and, like the chattah, or tiger, used for the same purpose in the
Carnatic, were carried out on horseback to the scene of action, and let
loose only when the game appeared.

In the midst of a tall grove, there was an elegant pavilion, or
summer-house, of wood, supported on pillars, and glittering with the
richest gilding. Against each pillar stood the figure of a dragon,
likewise richly gilt, with its tail curling round the shaft, its head
touching the roof, and its wings extended on both sides through the
intercolumniations. The roof was composed of split bamboos gilded and
varnished, and so skilfully shelving over each other that no rain could
ever penetrate between them. This beautiful structure could easily be
taken to pieces or re-erected, like a tent, and, to prevent it from being
overthrown by the wind, was fastened to the earth by two hundred silken
ropes. At this palace the khan regularly spent the three summer months
of June, July, and August, leaving it on the 28th of the last-named
month, in order to proceed towards the south. Eight days previous to
his departure, however, having solemnly consulted his astrologers, the
khan annually offered sacrifice to the gods and spirits of the earth,
the ceremony consisting in sprinkling a quantity of white mare’s milk
upon the ground with his own hands, at the same time praying for the
prosperity of his subjects, wives, and children. Kublai Khan was in no
danger of wanting milk for this sacrifice, since he possessed a stud of
horses, nearly ten thousand in number, all so purely white, that like
certain Homeric steeds, they might, without vanity, have traced their
origin to Boreas, the father of the snow. Indeed, much of this imperial
nectar must have streamed in libations to mother earth on less solemn
occasions; since none but persons of the royal race of Genghis Khan were
permitted to drink of it, with the exception of one single family, named
Boriat, to whom this distinguished privilege had been granted by Genghis
for their prowess and valour.

Our travellers now drew near Cambalu, and the khan, having received
intelligence of their approach, sent forth messengers to meet them at
the distance of forty days’ journey from the imperial city, that they
might be provided with all necessaries on the way, and conducted with
every mark of honour and distinction to the capital. Upon their arrival,
they were immediately presented to the khan; and having prostrated
themselves upon the ground, according to the custom of the country, were
commanded to rise, and most graciously received. When they had been
kindly interrogated by the emperor respecting the fatigues and dangers
they had encountered in his service, and had briefly related their
proceedings with the pope and in Palestine, from whence, at the khan’s
desire, they had brought a small portion of holy oil from the lamp of
Christ’s sepulchre at Jerusalem, they received high commendations for
their care and fidelity. Then the khan, observing Marco, inquired, “Who
is this youth?”—“He is your majesty’s servant, and my son,” replied
Nicolo. Kublai then received the young man with a smile, and, appointing
him to some office about his person, caused him to be instructed in
the languages and sciences of the country. Marco’s aptitude and genius
enabled him to fulfil the wishes of the khan. In a very short time he
acquired, by diligence and assiduity, a large acquaintance with the
manners of the Mongols, and could speak and write fluently in four of the
languages of the empire.

When Marco Polo appeared to have acquired the necessary degree of
information, the khan, to make trial of his ability, despatched him upon
an embassy to a city or chief called Karakhan, at the distance of six
months’ journey from Cambalu. This difficult commission our traveller
executed with ability and discretion; and in order still further to
enhance the merit of his services in the estimation of his sovereign, he
carefully observed the customs and manners of all the various tribes
among whom he resided, and drew up a concise account of the whole in
writing, which, together with a description of the new and curious
objects he had beheld, he presented to the khan on his return. This, as
he foresaw, greatly contributed to increase the favour of the prince
towards him; and he continued to rise gradually from one degree of honour
to another, until at length it may be doubted whether any individual in
the empire enjoyed a larger portion of Kublai’s affection and esteem.
Upon various occasions, sometimes upon the khan’s business, sometimes
upon his own, he traversed all the territories and dependencies of
the empire, everywhere possessing the means of observing whatever he
considered worth notice, his authority and the imperial favour opening
the most secluded and sacred places to his scrutiny.

As our traveller has not thought proper, however, to describe these
various journeys chronologically, or, indeed, to determine with any
degree of exactness when any one of them took place, we are at liberty,
in recording his peregrinations, to adopt whatever arrangement we please;
and it being indisputable that Northern China was the first part of
Kublai’s dominions, properly so called, which he entered, it appears most
rational to commence the history of his Chinese travels with an outline
of what he saw in that division of the empire.

The khan himself, whose profuse munificence enabled Marco Polo to perform
with pleasure and comfort his long and numerous expeditions, was a fine
handsome man of middle stature, with a fresh complexion, bright black
eyes, a well-formed nose, and a form every way well proportioned. He
had four wives, each of whom had the title of empress, and possessed
her own magnificent palace, with a separate court, consisting of
three hundred maids of honour, a large number of eunuchs, and a suite
amounting at least to ten thousand persons. He, moreover, possessed a
numerous harem besides his wives; and in order to keep up a constant
supply of fresh beauties, messengers were despatched every two years
into a province of Tartary remarkable for the beauty of its women, and
therefore set apart as a nursery for royal concubines, to collect the
finest among the daughters of the land for the khan. As the inhabitants
of this country considered it an honour to breed mistresses for their
prince, the “elegans formarum spectator” had no difficulty in finding
whatever number of young women he desired, and generally returned to
court with at least five hundred in his charge. So vast an army of women
were not, however, marched all at once into the khan’s harem. Examiners
were appointed to fan away the chaff from the corn,—that is, to discover
whether any of these fair damsels snored in their sleep, had an unsavoury
smell, or were addicted to any mischievous or disagreeable tricks in
their behaviour. Such, says the traveller, as were finally approved were
divided into parties of five, and one such party attended in the chamber
of the khan during three days and three nights in their turn, while
another party waited in an adjoining apartment to prepare whatever the
others might command them. The girls of inferior charms were employed in
menial offices about the palace, or were bestowed in marriage, with large
portions, upon the favoured officers of the khan.

The number of the khan’s family, though not altogether answerable to this
vast establishment of women, was respectable,—consisting of forty-seven
sons, of whom twenty-two were by his wives, and all employed in offices
of trust and honour in the empire. Of the number of his daughters we are
not informed.

The imperial city of Cambalu, the modern Peking, formed the residence
of the khan during the months of December, January, and February. The
palace of Kublai stood in the midst of a prodigious park, thirty-two
miles in circumference, surrounded by a lofty wall and deep ditch.
This enclosure, like all Mongol works of the kind, was square, and each
of its four sides was pierced by but one gate, so that between gate
and gate there was a distance of eight miles. Within this vast square
stood another, twenty-four miles in circumference, the walls being
equidistant from those of the outer square, and pierced on the northern
and southern sides by three gates, of which the centre one, loftier and
more magnificent than the rest, was reserved for the khan alone. At the
four corners, and in the centre of each face of the inner square, were
superb and spacious buildings, which were royal arsenals for containing
the implements and machinery of war, such as horse-trappings, long and
crossbows and arrows, helmets, cuirasses, leather armour, &c. Marco Polo
makes no mention of artillery or of firearms of any kind, from which it
may be fairly inferred that the use of gunpowder, notwithstanding the
vain pretensions of the modern Chinese, was unknown to their ancestors
of the thirteenth century; for it is inconceivable that so intelligent
and observant a traveller as Marco Polo should have omitted all mention
of so stupendous an invention, had it in his age been known either to
the Chinese or their conquerors. Indeed, though certainly superior in
civilization and the arts of life to the nations of Europe, they appear
to have been altogether inferior in the science of destruction; for
when Sian-fu had for three years checked the arms of Kublai Khan in his
conquest of Southern China, the Tartars were compelled to have recourse
to the ingenuity of Nicolo and Maffio Polo, who, constructing immense
catapults capable of casting stones of three hundred pounds’ weight,
enabled them, by battering down the houses and shaking the walls as with
an earthquake, to terrify the inhabitants into submission.

To return, however, to the description of the palace. The space between
the first and second walls was bare and level, and appropriated to
the exercising of the troops. But having passed the second wall, you
discovered an immense park, resembling the paradises of the ancient
Persian kings, stretching away on all sides into green lawns, dotted and
broken into long sunny vistas or embowered shades by numerous groves
of trees, between the rich and various foliage of which the glittering
pinnacles and snow-white battlements of the palace walls appeared at
intervals. The palace itself was a mile in length, but, not being of
corresponding height, had rather the appearance of a vast terrace or
range of buildings than of one structure. Its interior was divided into
numerous apartments, some of which were of prodigious dimensions and
splendidly ornamented; the walls being covered with figures of men,
birds, and animals in exquisite relief and richly gilt. A labyrinth of
carving, gilding, and the most brilliant colours, red, green, and blue,
supplied the place of a ceiling; and the united effect of the whole
oppressed the soul with a sense of painful splendour. On the north of
this poetical abode, which rivalled in vastness and magnificence the
Olympic domes of Homer, stood an artificial hill, a mile in circumference
and of corresponding height, which was skilfully planted with evergreen
trees, which the Great Khan had caused to be brought from remote places,
with all their roots, on the backs of elephants. At the foot of this hill
were two beautiful lakes imbosomed in trees, and filled with a multitude
of delicate fish.

That portion of the imperial city which had been erected by Kublai Khan
was square, like his palace. It was less extensive, however, than the
royal grounds, being only twenty-four miles in circumference. The streets
were all straight, and six miles in length, and the houses were erected
on each side, with courts and gardens, like palaces. At a certain hour
of the night, a bell, like the curfew of the Normans, was sounded in the
city, after which it was not lawful for any person to go out of doors
unless upon the most urgent business; for example, to procure assistance
for a woman in labour; in which case, however, they were compelled to
carry torches before them, from which we may infer that the streets were
not lighted with lamps. Twelve extensive suburbs, inhabited by foreign
merchants and by tradespeople, and more populous than the city itself,
lay without the walls.

The money current in China at this period was of a species of paper
fabricated from the middle bark of the mulberry-tree, and of a round
form. To counterfeit, or to refuse this money in payment, or to make use
of any other was a capital offence. The use of this money, which within
the empire was as good as any other instrument of exchange, enabled the
khan to amass incredible quantities of the precious metals and of all the
other toys which delight civilized man. Great public roads, which may
be enumerated among the principal instruments of civilization, radiated
from Peking, or Cambalu, towards all the various provinces of the empire,
and by the enlightened and liberal regulations of the khan, not only
facilitated in a surprising manner the conveyance of intelligence, but
likewise afforded to travellers and merchants a safe and commodious
passage from one province to another. On each of these great roads were
inns at the distance of twenty-five or thirty miles, amply furnished with
chambers, beds, and provisions, and four hundred horses, of which one
half were constantly kept saddled in the stables, ready for use, while
the other moiety were grazing in the neighbouring fields. In deserts and
mountainous steril districts where there were no inhabitants, the khan
established colonies to cultivate the lands, where that was possible, and
provide provisions for the ambassadors and royal messengers who possessed
the privilege of using the imperial horses and the public tables. In the
night these messengers were lighted on their way by persons running
before them with torches; and when they approached a posthouse, of
which there were ten thousand in the empire, they sounded a horn, as
our mail and stage coaches do, to inform the inmates of their coming,
that no delay might be experienced. By this means, one of these couriers
sometimes travelled two hundred or two hundred and fifty miles in a day.
In desolate and uninhabited places, the courses of the roads were marked
by trees which had been planted for the purpose; and in places where
nothing would vegetate, by stones or pillars.

The manners, customs, and opinions of the people, though apparently
considered by Marco Polo as less important than what regarded the
magnificence and greatness of the khan, commanded a considerable share
of our traveller’s attention. The religion of Buddha, whose mysterious
doctrines have eluded the grasp of the most comprehensive minds even up
to the present moment, he could not be expected to understand; but its
great leading tenets, the unity of the supreme God, the immortality of
the soul, the metempsychosis, and the final absorption of the virtuous
in the essence of the Divinity, are distinctly announced. The manners of
the Tartars were mild and refined; their temper cheerful; their character
honest. Filial affection was assiduously cultivated, and such as were
wanting in this virtue were condemned to severe punishment by the laws.
Three years’ imprisonment was the usual punishment for heinous offences;
but the criminals were marked upon the cheek when set at liberty, that
they might be known and avoided.

Agriculture has always commanded a large share of the attention of the
Chinese. The whole country for many days’ journey west of Cambalu was
covered with a numerous population, distinguished for their ingenuity and
industry. Towns and cities were numerous, the fields richly cultivated,
and interspersed with vineyards or plantations of mulberry-trees. On
approaching the banks of the Hoang-ho, which was so broad and deep that
no bridges could be thrown over it from the latitude of Cambalu to the
ocean, the fields abounded with ginger and silk; and game, particularly
pheasants, were so abundant, that three of these beautiful birds might
be purchased for a Venetian groat. The margin of the river was clothed
with large forests of bamboos, the largest, tallest, and most useful of
the cane species. Crossing the Hoang-ho, and proceeding for two days in
a westerly direction, you arrived at the city of Karianfu, situated in
a country fertile in various kinds of spices, and remarkable for its
manufactories of silk and cloth of gold.

This appears to have been the route pursued by Marco Polo when proceeding
as the emperor’s ambassador into Western Tibet. Having travelled for ten
days through plains of surpassing beauty and fertility, thickly sprinkled
with cities, castles, towns, and villages, shaded by vast plantations
of mulberry-trees, and cultivated like a garden, he arrived in the
mountainous district of the province of Chunchian, which abounded with
lions, bears, stags, roebucks, and wolves. The country through which his
route now lay was an agreeable succession of hill, valley, and plain,
adorned and improved by art, or reluctantly abandoned to the rude but
sublime fantasies of nature.

On entering Tibet, indelible traces of the footsteps of war everywhere
smote upon his eye. The whole country had been reduced by the armies of
the khan to a desert; the city, the cheerful village, the gilded and
gay-looking pagoda, the pleasant homestead, and the humble and secluded
cottage, having been overthrown, and their smoking ruins trampled in the
dust, had now been succeeded by interminable forests of swift-growing
bamboos, from between whose thick and knotty stems the lion, the
tiger, and other ferocious animals rushed out suddenly upon the unwary
traveller. Not a soul appeared to cheer the eye, or offer provisions for
money. All around was stillness and utter desolation. And at night, when
they desired to taste a little repose, it was necessary to kindle an
immense fire, and heap upon it large quantities of green reeds, which,
by the crackling and hissing noise which they made in burning, might
frighten away the wild beasts.

This pestilential desert occupied him twenty days in crossing, after
which human dwellings, and other signs of life, appeared. The manners of
the people among whom he now found himself were remarkably obscene and
preposterous. Improving upon the superstitious libertinism of the ancient
Babylonians, who sacrificed the modesty of their wives and daughters in
the temple of Astarte once in their lives, these Tibetians invariably
prostituted their young women to all strangers and travellers who passed
through their country, and made it a point of honour never to marry
a woman until she could exhibit numerous tokens of her incontinence.
Thieving, like want of chastity, was among them no crime; and, although
they had begun to cultivate the earth, they still derived their principal
means of subsistence from the chase. Their clothing was suitable to their
manners, consisting of the skins of wild beasts, or of a kind of coarse
hempen garment, less comfortable, perhaps, and still more uncouth to
sight. Though subject to China, as it is to this day, the paper money,
current through all other parts of the empire, was not in use here; nor
had they any better instrument of exchange than small pieces of coral,
though their mountains abounded with mines of the precious metals, while
gold was rolled down among mud and pebbles through the beds of their
torrents. Necklaces of coral adorned the persons of their women and their
gods, their earthly and heavenly idols being apparently rated at the
same value. In hunting, enormous dogs, nearly the size of asses, were
employed.

Still proceeding towards the west, he traversed the province of Kaindu,
formerly an independent kingdom, in which there was an extensive
salt-lake, so profusely abounding with white pearls, that to prevent
their price from being immoderately reduced, it was forbidden, under pain
of death, to fish for them without a license from the Great Khan. The
turquoise mines found in this province were under the same regulations.
The _gadderi_, or musk deer, was found here in great numbers, as were
likewise lions, bears, stags, ounces, deer, and roebucks. The clove,
extremely plentiful in Kaindu, was gathered from small trees not unlike
the bay-tree in growth and leaves, though somewhat longer and straighter:
its flowers were white, like those of the jasmin. Here manners were
regulated by nearly the same principles as in the foregoing province,
strangers assuming the rights of husbands in whatever houses they rested
on their journey. Unstamped gold, issued by weight, and small solid
loaves of salt, marked with the seal of the khan, were the current money.

Traversing the province of Keraian, of which little is said, except that
its inhabitants were pagans, and spoke a very difficult language, our
traveller next arrived at the city of Lassa, situated on the Dom or Tama
river, a branch of the Bramahpootra. This celebrated and extensive city,
the residence of the Dalai, or Great Lama, worshipped by the natives as
an incarnation of the godhead, was then the resort of numerous merchants,
and the centre of an active and widely-diffused commerce. Complete
religious toleration prevailed, pagans, Mohammedans, and Christians
dwelling together apparently in harmony; the followers of the established
religion, a modification of Buddhism, being however by far the most
numerous. Though corn was here plentiful, the inhabitants made no use
of any other bread than that of rice, which they considered the most
wholesome; and their wine, which was flavoured with several kinds of
spices, and exceedingly pleasant, they likewise manufactured from the
same grain. Cowries seem to have been used for money. The inhabitants,
like the Abyssinians, ate the flesh of the ox, the buffalo, and the sheep
raw, though they do not appear to have cut their steaks from the living
animals. Here, as elsewhere in Tibet, women were subjected, under certain
conditions, to the embraces of strangers.

From Lassa, Marco Polo proceeded to the province of Korazan, where veins
of solid gold were found in the mountains, and washed down to the plains
by the waters of the rivers. Cowries were here the ordinary currency.
Among the usual articles of food was the flesh of the crocodile, which
was said to be very delicate. The inhabitants carried on an active
trade in horses with India. In their wars they made use of targets and
other defensive armour, manufactured, like the shields of many of the
Homeric heroes, from tough bull or buffalo hide. Their arms consisted
of lances or spears, and crossbows, from which, like genuine savages,
they darted poisonous arrows at their foes. When taken prisoners, they
frequently escaped from the evils of servitude by self-slaughter,
always bearing about their persons, like Mithridates and Demosthenes, a
concealed poison, by which they could at any time open themselves a way
to Pluto. Previous to the Mongol conquests, these reckless savages were
in the habit of murdering in their sleep such strangers or travellers as
happened to pass through their country, from the superstitious belief, it
is said, that the good qualities of the dead would devolve upon those who
killed them, of which it must be confessed they stood in great need; and
perhaps from the better grounded conviction that they should thus, at
all events, become the undoubted heirs of their wealth.

Journeying westward for five days our traveller arrived at the province
of Kardandan, where the current money were cowries brought from India,
and gold in ingots. Gold was here so plentiful that it was exchanged for
five times its weight in silver; and the inhabitants, who had probably
been subject to the toothache, were in the habit of covering their teeth
with thin plates of this precious metal, which, according to Marco,
were so nicely fitted that the teeth appeared to be of solid gold. The
practice of tattooing, which seems to have prevailed at one time or
other over the whole world, was in vogue here, men being esteemed in
proportion as their skins were more disfigured. Riding, hunting, and
martial exercises occupied the whole time of the men, while the women,
aided by the slaves who were purchased or taken in war, performed all
the domestic labours. Another strange custom, the cause and origin of
which, though it has prevailed in several parts of the world, is hidden
in obscurity, obtained here; when a woman had been delivered of a child,
she immediately quitted her bed, and having washed the infant, placed it
in the hands of her husband, who, lying down in her stead, personated the
sick person, nursed the child, and remained in bed six weeks, receiving
the visits and condolences of his friends and neighbours. Meanwhile the
woman bestirred herself, and performed her usual duties as if nothing
had happened. Marco Polo could discover nothing more of the religious
opinions of this people than that they worshipped the oldest man in their
family, probably as the representative of the generative principle of
nature. Broken, rugged, and stupendous mountains, no doubt the Himmalaya,
rendered this wild country nearly inaccessible to strangers, who were
further deterred by a report that a fatal miasma pervaded the air,
particularly in summer. The knowledge of letters had not penetrated into
this region, and all contracts and obligations were recorded by tallies
of wood, as small accounts are still kept in Normandy, and other rude
provinces of Europe.

Ignorance, priestcraft, and magic being of one family, and thriving by
each other, are always found together. These savages, like Lear, had
thrown “physic to the dogs;” and when attacked by disease preferred
the priest or the magician to the doctor. The priests, hoping to drive
disease out of their neighbour’s body by admitting the Devil into their
own, repaired, when called upon, to the chamber of the sick person; and
there sung, danced, leaped, and raved, until a demon, in the language of
the initiated, or, in other words, weariness, seized upon them, when they
discontinued their violent gestures, and consented to be interrogated.
Their answer, of course, was, that the patient had offended some god, who
was to be propitiated with sacrifice, which consisted partly in offering
up a portion of the patient’s blood, not to the goddess Phlebotomy, as
with us, but to some member of the Olympian synod whose fame has not
reached posterity. In addition to this, a certain number of rams with
black heads were sacrificed, their blood sprinkled in the air for the
benefit of the gods, and a great number of candles having been lighted
up, and the house thoroughly perfumed with incense and wood of aloes, the
priests sat down with their wives and families to dinner; and if after
all this the sick man would persist in dying, it was no fault of theirs.
Destiny alone was to blame.

The next journey which Marco Polo undertook, after his return from Tibet,
was into the kingdom of Mangi, or Southern China, subdued by the arms
of the khan in 1269. Fanfur, the monarch, who had reigned previous to
the irruption of the Mongols, is represented as a mild, beneficent,
and peaceful prince, intent upon maintaining justice and internal
tranquillity in his dominions; but wanting in energy, and neglectful
of the means of national defence. During the latter years of his reign
he had abandoned himself, like another Sardanapalus, to sensuality
and voluptuousness; though, when the storm of war burst upon him, he
exhibited far less magnanimity than that Assyrian Sybarite; flying
pusillanimously to his fleet with all his wealth, and relinquishing the
defence of the capital to his queen, who, as a woman, had nothing to fear
from the cruelty of the conqueror. A foolish story, no doubt invented
after the fall of the city, is said to have inspired the queen with
confidence, and encouraged her to resist the besiegers: the soothsayers,
or haruspices, had assured Fanfur, in the days of his prosperity, that no
man not possessing a hundred eyes should ever deprive him of his kingdom.
Learning, however, with dismay that the name of the Tartar general now
besieging the place signified “the Hundred-eyed,” she perceived the
fulfilment of the prediction, and surrendered up the city. Kublai Khan,
agreeably to the opinion of Fanfur, conducted himself liberally towards
the captive queen; who, being conveyed to Cambalu, was received and
treated in a manner suitable to her former dignity. The dwarf-minded
emperor died about a year after, a fugitive and a vagabond upon the earth.

The capital of Southern China, called Quinsai, or Kinsai, by Marco
Polo, a name signifying the “Celestial City,” was a place of prodigious
magnitude, being, according to the reports of the Chinese, not less than
one hundred miles in circumference. This rough estimate of the extent of
Kinsai, though beyond doubt considerably exaggerated, is after all not so
very incredible as may at first appear. Within this circumference, if the
place was constructed after the usual fashion of a Chinese city, would be
included parks and gardens of immense extent, vast open spaces for the
evolutions of the troops, besides the ten market-places, each two miles
in circumference, mentioned by Marco Polo, and many other large spaces
not covered with houses. By these means Kinsai might have been nearly
one hundred miles in circuit, without approaching London in riches or
population. That modern travellers have found no trace of such amazing
extent in Hang-chen, Kua-hing, or whatever city they determine Kinsai
to have been, by no means invalidates the assertion of Marco Polo; for
considering the revolutions which China has undergone, and the perishable
materials of the ordinary dwellings of its inhabitants, we may look upon
the space of nearly six hundred years as more than sufficient to have
changed the site of Kinsai into a desert. Were the seat of government to
be removed from Calcutta to Agra or Delhi, the revolution of one century
would reduce that “City of Palaces,” to a miserable village, or wholly
bury it in the pestilential bog from which its sumptuous but perishable
edifices originally rose like an exhalation.

I will suppose, therefore, in spite of geographical skepticism, that
Kinsai fell very little short of the magnitude which the Chinese, not
Marco Polo, attributed to it. The city was nearly surrounded by water,
having on one side a great river, and on the other side a lake, while
innumerable canals, intersecting it in all directions, rendered the
very streets navigable, as it were, like those of Venice, and floated
away all filth into the channel of the river. Twelve thousand bridges,
great and small, were thrown over these canals, beneath which barks,
boats, and barges, bearing a numerous aquatic population, continually
passed to and fro; while horsemen dashed along, and chariots rolled from
street to street, above. Three days in every week the peasantry from
all the country round poured into the city, to the number of forty or
fifty thousand, bringing in the productions of the earth, with cattle,
fowls, game, and every species of provision necessary for the subsistence
of so mighty a population. Though provisions were so cheap, however,
that two geese, or four ducks, might be purchased for a Venetian groat,
the poor were reduced to so miserable a state of wretchedness that
they gladly devoured the flesh of the most unclean animals, and every
species of disgusting offal. The markets were supplied with an abundance
of most kinds of fruit, among which a pear of peculiar fragrance, and
white and gold peaches, were the most exquisite. Raisins and wine were
imported from other provinces; but from the ocean, which was no more than
twenty-five miles distant, so great a profusion of fish was brought,
that, at first sight, it seemed as if it could never be consumed, though
it all disappeared in a few hours.

Around the immense market-places were the shops of the jewellers and
spice-merchants; and in the adjoining streets were numerous hot and cold
baths, with all the apparatus which belong to those establishments in
eastern countries. These places, as the inhabitants bathed every day,
were well frequented, and the attendants accustomed to the business from
their childhood exceedingly skilful in the performance of their duties.
A trait which marks the voluptuous temperament of the Chinese occurs in
the account of this city. An incredible number of courtesans, splendidly
attired, perfumed, and living with a large establishment of servants in
spacious and magnificent houses, were found at Kinsai; and, like their
sisters in ancient Greece, were skilled in all those arts which captivate
and enslave enervated minds. The tradesmen possessed great wealth, and
appeared in their shops sumptuously dressed in silks, in addition to
which their wives adorned themselves with costly jewels. Their houses
were well built, and contained pictures and other ornaments of immense
value. In their dealings they were remarkable for their integrity, and
great suavity and decorum appeared in their manners. Notwithstanding the
gentleness of their disposition, however, their hatred of their Mongol
conquerors, who had deprived them of their independence and the more
congenial rule of their native princes, was not to be disguised.

All the streets were paved with stone, while the centre was macadamized,
a mark of civilization not yet to be found in Paris, or many other
European capitals, any more than the cleanliness which accompanied it.
Hackney-coaches with silk cushions, public gardens, and shady walks were
among the luxuries of the people of Kinsai; while, as Mr. Kerr very
sensibly remarks, the delights of European capitals were processions of
monks among perpetual dunghills in narrow crooked lanes. Still, in the
midst of all this wealth and luxury, poverty and tremendous suffering
existed, compelling parents to sell their children, and when no buyers
appeared, to expose them to death. Twenty thousand infants thus deserted
were annually snatched from destruction by the Emperor Fanfur, and
maintained and educated until they could provide for themselves.

Marco Polo’s opportunities for studying the customs and manners of this
part of the empire were such as no other European has ever enjoyed,
as, through the peculiar affection of the Great Khan, he was appointed
governor of one of its principal cities, and exercised this authority
during three years. Yet, strange to say, he makes no mention of tea,
and alludes only once, and that but slightly, to the manufacture of
porcelain. These omissions, however, are in all probability not to be
attributed to him, but to the heedlessness or ignorance of transcribers
and copyists, who, not knowing what to make of the terms, boldly omitted
them. The most remarkable manufacture of porcelain in his time appears
to have been at a city which he calls Trinqui, situated on one branch of
the river which flowed to Zaitum, supposed to be the modern Canton. Here
he was informed a certain kind of earth or clay was thrown up into vast
conical heaps, where it remained exposed to the action of the atmosphere
for thirty or forty years, after which, refined, as he says, by time, it
was manufactured into dishes, which were painted and baked in furnaces.

Having now remained many years in China, the Polos began to feel the
desire of revisiting their home revive within their souls; and this
desire was strengthened by reflecting upon the great age of the khan,
in the event of whose death it was possible they might never be able to
depart from the country, at least with the amazing wealth which they
had amassed during their long residence. One day, therefore, when they
observed Kublai to be in a remarkably good-humour, Nicolo, who seems
to have enjoyed a very free access to the chamber of the sovereign,
ventured to entreat permission to return home with his family. The khan,
however, who, being himself at home, could comprehend nothing of that
secret and almost mysterious power by which man is drawn back from the
remotest corners of the earth towards the scene of his childhood, and
who, perhaps, imagined that gold could confer irresistible charms upon
any country, was extremely displeased at the request. He had, in fact,
become attached to the men, and his unwillingness to part with them was
as natural as their desire to go. To turn them from all thoughts of the
undertaking, he dwelt upon the length and danger of the journey; and
added, that if more wealth was what they coveted, they had but to speak,
and he would gratify their utmost wishes, by bestowing upon them twice as
much as they already possessed; but that his affection would not allow
him to part with them.

Providence, however, which under the name of chance or accident so
frequently befriends the perplexed, now came to their aid. Not long
after the unsuccessful application of Nicolo, ambassadors arrived at
the court of the Great Khan, from Argûn, Sultan of Persia, demanding
a princess of the imperial blood for their master, whose late queen
on her deathbed had requested him to choose a wife from among her
relations in Cathay. Kublai consented; and the ambassadors departed with
a youthful princess on their way to Persia. When they had proceeded
eight months through the wilds of Tartary, their course was stopped by
bloody wars; and they were constrained to return with the princess to
the court of the khan. Here they heard of Marco, who had likewise just
returned from an expedition into India by sea, describing the facility
which navigation afforded of maintaining an intercourse between that
country and China. The ambassadors now procured an interview with
the Venetians, who consented, if the permission of the khan could be
obtained, to conduct them by sea to the dominions of their sovereign.
With great reluctance the khan at length yielded to their solicitation;
and having commanded Nicolo, Maffio, and Marco into his presence, and
lavished upon them every possible token of his affection and esteem,
constituting them his ambassadors to the pope and the other princes of
Europe, he caused a tablet of gold to be delivered to them, upon which
were engraven his commands that they should be allowed free and secure
passage through all his dominions; that all their expenses, as well as
those of their attendants, should be defrayed; and that they should be
provided with guides and escorts wherever these might be necessary. He
then exacted from them a promise that when they should have passed some
time in Christendom among their friends, they would return to him, and
affectionately dismissed them.

Fourteen ships with four masts, of which four or five were so large that
they carried from two hundred and fifty to two hundred and sixty men,
were provided for their voyage; and on board of this fleet they embarked
with the queen and the ambassadors, and sailed away from China. It was
probably from the officers of these ships, or from those with whom he
had made his former voyage to India, that Marco Polo learned what little
he knew of the great island of Zipangri or Japan. It was about fifteen
hundred miles distant, as he was informed, from the shores of China. The
people were fair, gentle in their manners, and governed by their own
princes. Gold, its exportation being prohibited, was plentiful among
them; so plentiful, indeed, that the roof of the prince’s palace was
covered with it, as churches in Europe sometimes are with lead, while the
windows and floors were of the same metal. The prodigious opulence of
this country tempted the ambition or rapacity of Kublai Khan, who with a
vast fleet and army attempted to annex it with his empire, but without
success. It was Marco’s brief description of this insular El Dorado which
is supposed to have kindled the spirit of discovery and adventure in
the great soul of Columbus. Gentle as the manners of the Japanese are
said to have been, neither they nor the Chinese themselves could escape
the charge of cannibalism, which appears to be among barbarians what
heresy was in Europe during the middle ages, the crime of which every one
accuses his bitterest enemy. The innumerable islands scattered through
the surrounding ocean were said to abound with spices and groves of
odoriferous wood.

The vast islands and thickly-sprinkled archipelagoes which rear up
their verdant and scented heads among the waters of the Indian ocean,
now successively presented themselves to the observant eye of our
traveller, and appeared like another world. Ziambar, with its woods
of ebony; Borneo, with its spices and its gold; Lokak, with its sweet
fruits, its Brazil wood, and its elephants;—these were the new and
strange countries at which they touched on the way to Java the less,
or Sumatra. This island, which he describes as two thousand miles in
circumference, was divided into eight kingdoms, six of which he visited
and curiously examined. Some portion of the inhabitants had been
converted to Mohammedanism; but numerous tribes still roamed in a savage
state among the mountains, feeding upon human flesh and every unclean
animal, and worshipping as a god the first object which met their eyes
in the morning. Among one of these wild races a very extraordinary
practice prevailed: whenever any individual was stricken with sickness,
his relations immediately inquired of the priests or magicians whether
he would recover or not; and if answered in the negative, the patient
was instantly strangled, cut in pieces, and devoured, even to the very
marrow of the bones. This, they alleged, was to prevent the generation
of worms in any portion of the body, which, by gnawing and defacing it,
would torture the soul of the dead. The bones were carefully concealed in
the caves of the mountains. Strangers, from the same humane motive, were
eaten in an equally friendly way.

Here were numerous rhinoceroses, camphor, which sold for its weight in
gold, and lofty trees, ten or twelve feet in circumference, from the
pith of which a kind of meal was made. This pith, having been broken
into pieces, was cast into vessels filled with water, where the light
innutritious parts floated upon the top, while the finer and more solid
descended to the bottom. The former was skimmed off and thrown away, but
the latter, in taste not unlike barley-bread, was wrought into a kind of
paste, and eaten. This was the sago, the first specimen of which ever
seen in Europe was brought to Venice by Marco Polo. The wood of the tree,
which was heavy and sunk in water like iron, was used in making spears.

From Sumatra they sailed to the Nicobar and Andaman islands, the natives
of which were naked and bestial savages, though the country produced
excellent cloves, cocoanuts, Brazil wood, red and white sandal wood, and
various kinds of spices. They next touched at Ceylon, which appeared to
Marco Polo, and not altogether without reason, to be the finest island in
the world. Here no grain, except rice, was cultivated; but the country
produced a profusion of oil, sesamum, milk, flesh, palm wine, sapphires,
topazes, amethysts, and the best rubies in the world. Of this last kind
of gem the King of Ceylon was said to possess the finest specimen in
existence, the stone being as long as a man’s hand, of corresponding
thickness, and glowing like fire. The wonders of Adam’s Peak Marco
Polo heard of, but did not behold. His account of the pearl-fishery he
likewise framed from report.

From Ceylon they proceeded towards the Persian Gulf, touching in their
way upon the coast of the Carnatic, where Marco learned some particulars
respecting the Hindoos; as, that they were an unwarlike people, who
imported horses from Ormus, and generally abstained from beef; that their
rich men were carried about in palankeens; and that from motives of the
origin of which he was ignorant, every man carefully preserved his own
drinking-vessels from the touch of another.

At length, after a voyage of eighteen months, they arrived in the
dominions of Argûn, but found that that prince was dead, the heir to the
throne a minor, and the functions of government exercised by a regent.
They delivered the princess, who was now nearly nineteen, to Kazan, the
son of Argûn; and having been magnificently entertained for nine months
by the regent, who presented them at parting with four tablets of gold,
each a cubit long and five fingers broad, they continued their journey
through Kurdistan and Mingrelia, to Trebizond, where they embarked upon
the Black Sea; and, sailing down the Bosphorus and Dardanelles, crossed
the Ægean, touched at Negropont, and arrived safely at Venice, in the
year 1295.

On repairing to their own house, however, in the street of St.
Chrysostom, they had the mortification to find themselves entirely
forgotten by all their old acquaintance and countrymen; and even their
nearest relations, who upon report of their death had taken possession of
their palace, either could not or would not recognise them. Forty-five
years had no doubt operated strange changes in the persons of Nicolo
and Maffio; and even Marco, who had left his home in the flower of
his youth, and now returned after an absence of twenty-four years, a
middle-aged man, storm-beaten, and bronzed by the force of tropical
suns, must have been greatly altered. Besides, they had partly forgotten
their native language, which they pronounced with a barbarous accent,
intermingling Tartar words, and setting the rules of syntax at defiance.
Their dress, air, and demeanour, likewise, were Tartarian. To convince
the incredulous, however, and prove their identity, they invited all
their relations and old associates to a magnificent entertainment, at
which the three travellers appeared attired in rich eastern habits of
crimson satin. When all the guests were seated, the Polos put off their
satin garments, which they bestowed upon the attendants, still appearing
superbly dressed in robes of crimson damask. At the removal of the last
course but one of the entertainment, they distributed their damask
garments also upon the attendants, these having merely concealed far
more magnificent robes of crimson velvet. When dinner was over, and the
attendants had withdrawn, Marco Polo exhibited to the company the coats
of coarse Tartarian cloth, or felt, which his father, his uncle, and
himself had usually worn during their travels. These he now cut open,
and from their folds and linings took out so prodigious a quantity of
rubies, sapphires, emeralds, carbuncles, and diamonds, that the company,
amazed and delighted with the beauty and splendour of these magnificent
and invaluable gems, no longer hesitated to acknowledge the claims of the
Polos, who, by the same arguments, might have proved their identity with
Prester John and his family.

The news of their arrival now rapidly circulated through Venice, and
crowds of persons of all ranks, attracted, partly by their immense
wealth, partly by the strangeness of their recitals, flocked to their
palace to see and congratulate them upon their return. The whole family
was universally treated with distinction, and Maffio, the elder of
the brothers, became one of the principal magistrates of the city.
Marco, as being the youngest, and probably the most communicative of
the three, was earnestly sought after by the young noblemen of Venice,
whom he entertained and astonished by his descriptions of the strange
and marvellous things he had beheld; and as in speaking of the subjects
and revenues of the Great Khan he was frequently compelled to count by
millions, he obtained among his companions the name of _Marco Millione_.
In the time of Ramusio the Polo palace still existed in the street of
St. Chrysostom, and was popularly known by the name of the _Corte del
Millioni_. Some writers, however, have supposed that this surname was
bestowed on the Polos on account of their extraordinary riches.

Marco Polo had not been many months at Venice before the news arrived
that a Genoese fleet, under the command of Lampa Doria, had appeared near
the island of Curzola, on the coast of Dalmatia. The republic, alarmed
at the intelligence, immediately sent out a numerous fleet against the
enemy, in which Marco Polo, as an experienced mariner, was intrusted with
the command of a galley. The two fleets soon came to an engagement, when
Marco, with that intrepid courage which had carried him safely through
so many dangers, advanced with his galley before the rest of the fleet,
with the design of breaking the enemy’s squadron. The Venetians, however,
who were quickly defeated, wanted the energy to second his boldness; and
Marco, who had been wounded in the engagement, was taken prisoner and
carried to Genoa.

Here, as at Venice, the extraordinary nature of his adventures, the
_naïveté_ of his descriptions, and the amiableness of his character soon
gained him friends, who not only delighted in his conversation, but
exerted all their powers to soften the rigours of his captivity. Day
after day new auditors flocked around this new Ulysses, anxious to hear
from his own lips an account of the magnificence and grandeur of Kublai
Khan, and of the vast empire of the Mongols. Wearied at length, however,
with for ever repeating the same things, he determined, in pursuance of
the advice of his new friends, to write the history of his travels; and
sending to Venice for the original notes which he had made while in the
East, compiled or dictated the brief work which has immortalized his
memory. The work was completed in the year 1298, when it may also be said
to have been published, as numerous copies were made and circulated.

Meanwhile, his father and uncle, who had hitherto looked to Marco for
the continuation of the Polo family, and who had vainly endeavoured by
the offer of large sums of money to redeem him from captivity, began
to deliberate upon the course which they ought to adopt under the
present circumstances; and it was resolved that Nicolo, the younger
and more vigorous of the two, should himself marry. Four years after
this marriage, Marco was set at liberty at the intercession of the most
illustrious citizens of Genoa; but on returning to Venice he found that
three new members had been added to the Polo family during his absence,
his father having had so many sons by his young wife. Marco continued,
however, to live in the greatest harmony and happiness with his new
relations; and shortly afterward marrying himself, had two daughters,
Maretta and Fantina, but no sons. Upon the death of his father, Marco
erected a monument to his memory in the portico of the church of St.
Lorenzo, with an inscription stating that it was built in honour of the
traveller’s father. Neither the exact date of his father’s death nor
of his own has hitherto been ascertained; but it is supposed that our
illustrious traveller’s decease took place either in the year 1323 or
1324. According to Mr. Marsden’s opinion, he was then seventy years of
age; but if we follow the opinion of the majority of writers, and of M.
Walkenaer among the rest, he must have attained the age of seventy-three
or seventy-four. The male line of the Polos became extinct in 1417, and
the only surviving female was married to a member of the noble house of
Trevisino, one of the most illustrious in Venice.

When the travels of Marco Polo first appeared, they were generally
regarded as a fiction; and this absurd belief had so far gained ground,
that when he lay upon his deathbed, his friends and nearest relatives,
coming to take their eternal adieu, conjured him, as he valued the
salvation of his soul, to retract whatever he had advanced in his
book, or at least such passages as every person looked upon as untrue;
but the traveller, whose conscience was untroubled upon that score,
declared solemnly in that awful moment, that far from being guilty of
exaggeration, he had not described one-half of the wonderful things
which he had beheld. Such was the reception which the discoveries of
this extraordinary man experienced when first promulgated. By degrees,
however, as enterprise lifted more and more the veil from central and
eastern Asia, the relations of our traveller rose in the estimation
of geographers; and now that the world, though still containing many
unknown tracts, has been more successfully explored, we begin to perceive
that Marco Polo, like Herodotus, was a man of the most rigid veracity,
whose testimony presumptuous ignorance alone can call in question.

To relate the history of our traveller’s work since its first publication
would be a long and a dry task. It was translated during his lifetime
into Latin (for the opinion of Ramusio that it was originally composed
in that language seems to be absurd), as well as into several modern
languages of Europe; and as many of those versions were made, according
to tradition, under the author’s own direction, he is thought to have
inserted some numerous particulars which were wanting in others; and in
this way the variations of the different manuscripts are accounted for.
The number of the translations of Marco Polo is extraordinary; one in
Portuguese, two in Spanish, three in German, three in French, three or
four in Latin, one in Dutch, and seven in English. Of all these numerous
versions, that of Mr. Marsden is generally allowed to be incomparably
the best, whether the correctness of the text or the extent, riches, and
variety of the commentary be considered.




IBN BATŪTA.

Born about 1300.—Died after 1353.


This traveller, whose name and works were little known in Europe before
the publication of Professor Lee’s translation, was born at Tangiers,
in Northern Africa, about the year 1300. He appeared to be designed by
nature to be a great traveller. Romantic in his disposition, a great
lover of the marvellous, and possessing a sufficient dash of superstition
in his character to enable him everywhere to discover omens favourable
to his wishes, the slightest motives sufficed to induce him to undertake
at a day’s notice the most prodigious journeys, though he could reckon
upon deriving from them nothing but the pleasure of seeing strange
sights, or of believing that he was fulfilling thereby the secret
intentions of Providence respecting him.

Being by profession one of those theologians who in those times were
freely received and entertained by princes and the great in all
Mohammedan countries, he could apprehend no danger of wanting the
necessaries of life, and had before him at least the chance, if not
the certain prospect, of being raised for his learning and experience
to some post of distinction. The first step in the adventures of all
Mohammedan travellers is, of course, the pilgrimage to Mecca, as this
journey confers upon them a kind of sacred character, and the title of
Hajjî, which is a passport generally respected in all the territories of
Islamism.

Ibn Batūta left his native city of Tangiers for the purpose of performing
the pilgrimage in the year of the Hejira 725 (A. D. 1324-5). Traversing
the Barbary States and the whole breadth of Northern Africa, probably
in company with the great Mogrebine caravan which annually leaves those
countries for Mecca, he arrived without meeting with any remarkable
adventure in Egypt, where, according to the original design of his
travels, he employed his time in visiting the numerous saints and
workers of miracles with which that celebrated land abounded in those
days. Among the most distinguished of these men then in Alexandria was
the Imam Borhaneddin el Aaraj. Our traveller one day visiting this man,
“Batūta,” said he, “I perceive that the passion of exploring the various
countries of the earth hath seized upon thee!”—“I replied, Yes,” says
the traveller, “though I had at that time no intention of extending my
researches to very distant regions.”—“I have three brothers,” continued
the saint, “of whom there is one in India, another in Sindia, and
the third in China. You must visit those realms, and when you see my
brothers, inform them that they are still affectionately remembered by
Borhaneddin.”—“I was astonished at what he said,” observes Batūta, “and
determined within myself to accomplish his desires.” He in fact regarded
the expressions of this holy man as a manifestation of the will of Heaven.

Having thus conceived the bold design of exploring the remotest countries
of the East, Ibn Batūta was impatient to be in motion; he therefore
abridged his visits to the saints, and proceeded on his journey.
Nevertheless, before his departure from this part of Egypt he had a
dream, which, being properly interpreted by a saint, greatly strengthened
him in his resolution. Falling asleep upon the roof of a hermit’s cell,
he imagined himself placed upon the wings of an immense bird, which,
rising high into the air, fled away towards the temple at Mecca. From
thence the bird proceeded towards Yarren, and, after taking a vast sweep
through the south and the regions of the rising sun, alighted safely
with his burden in the land of darkness, where he deposited it, and
disappeared. On the morrow the sage hermit interpreted this vision in
the sense most consonant with the wishes of the seer, and, presenting
our traveller with some dirhems and dried cakes, dismissed him on his
way. During the whole of his travels Ibn Batūta met with but one man who
equalled this hermit in sanctity and wisdom, and observes, that from the
very day on which he quitted him he experienced nothing but good fortune.

At Damietta he saw the cell of the Sheïkh Jemaleddin, leader of the sect
of the Kalenders celebrated in the Arabian Nights, who shave their chins
and their eyebrows, and spend their whole lives in the contemplation
of the beatitude and perfection of God. Journeying onwards through the
cities and districts of Fariskūr, Ashmūn el Rommān, and Samānūd, he at
length arrived at Misz, or Cairo, where he appears to have first tasted
the pure waters of the Nile, which, in his opinion, excel those of all
other rivers in sweetness.

Departing from Cairo, and entering Upper Egypt, he visited, among other
places, the celebrated monastery of Clay and the minyet of Ibn Khasib.
Upon the mention of this latter place, he takes occasion to relate an
anecdote of a poet, which, because it is in keeping with our notions of
what a man of genius should be, we shall here introduce. Ibn Khasib,
raised from a state of slavery to the government of Egypt, and again
reduced to beggary, and deprived of sight by the caprice and cruelty
of a calif of the house of Abbas, had while in power been a munificent
patron and protector of literary men. Hearing of his magnificence and
generosity, a poet of Bagdad had undertaken to celebrate his praises
in verse; but before he had had an opportunity of reciting his work,
Khasib was degraded from his high office, and thrown out in blindness and
beggary into the streets of Bagdad. While he was wandering about in this
condition, the poet, who must have known him personally, encountered him,
and exclaimed, “O, Khasib, it was my intention to visit thee in Egypt
to recite thy praises; but thy coming hither has rendered my journey
unnecessary. Wilt thou allow me to recite my poem?”—“How,” said Khasib,
“shall I hear it? Thou knowest what misfortunes have overtaken me!”
The poet replied, “My only wish is that thou shouldst hear it; but as
to reward, may God reward thee as thou hast others.” Khasib then said,
“Proceed with thy poem.” The poet proceeded:—

    “Thy bounties, like the swelling Nile,
    Made the plains of Egypt smile,” &c.

When he had concluded, “Come here,” said Khasib, “and open this seam.”
He did so. Khasib then said, “Take this ruby.” The poet refused; but
being adjured to do so, he complied, and went away to the street of the
jewellers to offer it for sale. From the beauty of the stone, it was
supposed it could have belonged to no one but the calif, who, being
informed of the matter, ordered the poet before him, and interrogated
him respecting it. The poet ingenuously related the whole truth; and the
tyrant, repenting of his cruelty, sent for Khasib, overwhelmed him with
splendid presents, and promised to grant him whatever he should desire.
Khasib demanded and obtained the small minyet in Upper Egypt in which
he resided until his death, and where his fame was still fresh when Ibn
Batūta passed through the country.

Frustrated in his attempt to reach Mecca by this route, after penetrating
as far as Nubia, our traveller returned to Cairo, and from thence
proceeded by way of the Desert into Syria. Here, like every other
believer in the Hebrew Scriptures, he found himself in the midst of the
most hallowed associations; and strengthened at once his piety and his
enthusiasm by visiting the graves of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, as well
as the many spots rendered venerable by the footsteps of Mohammed. As
the believers in Islamism entertain a kind of religious respect for the
founder of Christianity, whom they regard as a great prophet, Batūta did
not fail to include Bethlehem, the birthplace of Christ, in the list of
those places he had to see. Upon this town, however, as well as upon
Jerusalem, Tyre, Sidon, and others of equal renown in Syria, he makes few
observations which can assist us in forming an idea of the state of the
country in those times; but in return for this meagerness, he relates
a very extraordinary story of an alchymist, who had discovered the
secret of making gold, and exercised his supernatural power in acts of
beneficence.

From Syria he proceeded towards Mesopotamia, by Emessa, Hameh, and
Aleppo, and having traversed the country of the Kurds, and visited the
fortresses of the Assassins, the people who, as he says, “act as arrows
for El Malik el Nāisr,” returned to Mount Libanus, which he pronounces
the most fruitful mountain in the world, and describes as abounding in
various fruits, fountains of water, and leafy shades. He then visited
Baalbec and Damascus; and, after remaining a short time at the latter
city, departed with the Syrian caravan for Mecca. His attempt to perform
the pilgrimage, a duty incumbent on all true Mussulmans, was this time
successful: the caravan traversed the “howling wilderness” in safety;
arrived at the Holy City; and the pilgrims having duly performed the
prescribed rites, and spent three days near the tomb of the prophet, at
Medina, Ibn Batūta joined a caravan proceeding through the deserts of
Nejed towards Persia.

The early part of this journey offered nothing which our traveller
thought worthy of remark; but he at length arrived at Kadisia, near Kufa,
anciently a great city, in the neighbourhood of which that decisive
victory was obtained by Saad, one of the generals of Omar, over the
Persians, which established the interests of Islamism, and overthrew
for ever the power of the Ghebers. He next reached the city of Meshed
Ali, a splendid and populous place, where the grave of Ali is supposed
to be. The inhabitants, of course, were Shiahs, but they were rich; and
Ibn Batūta, who was a tolerant man, thought them a brave people. The
gardens were surrounded by plastered walls, adorned with paintings, and
contained carpets, couches, and lamps of gold and silver. Within the city
was a rich treasury, maintained by the votive offerings of sick persons,
who then crowded, and still crowd, to the grave of Ali, from Room,
Khorasān, Irak, and other places, in the hope of receiving relief. These
people are placed over the grave a short time after sunset, while other
persons, some praying, others reciting the Koran, and others prostrating
themselves, attend expecting their recovery, and before it is quite dark
a miraculous cure takes place. Our traveller, from some cause or another,
was not present on any of these occasions, and remarks that he saw
several afflicted persons who, though they confidently looked forward to
future benefit had hitherto received none.

The whole of that portion of Mesopotamia was at this period in the power
of the Bedouin Arabs, without whose protection there was no travelling
through the country. With them, therefore, Ibn Batūta proceeded from
Basra, towards various holy and celebrated places, among others to the
tomb of “My Lord Ahmed of Rephaā,” a famous devotee, whose disciples
still congregate about his grave, and kindling a prodigious fire, walk
into it, some eating it, others trampling upon it, and others rolling in
it, till it be entirely extinguished, while others take great serpents
in their teeth, and bite the head off. From hence he again returned
to Basra, the neighbourhood of which abounded with palm-trees. The
inhabitants were distinguished for their politeness and humanity towards
strangers. Here he saw the famous copy of the Koran in which Othman, the
son of Ali, was reading when he was assassinated, and on which the marks
of his blood were still visible.

Embarking on board a small boat, called a sambūk, he descended the Tigris
to Abbadān, whence it was his intention to have proceeded to Bagdad; but,
adopting the advice of a friend at Basra, he sailed down the Persian
Gulf, and landing at Magul, crossed a plain inhabited by Kurds, and
arrived at a ridge of very high mountains. Over these he travelled during
three days, finding at every stage a cell with food for the accommodation
of travellers. The roads over these mountains were cut through the solid
rock. His travelling companions consisted of ten devotees, of whom one
was a priest, another a muezzin, and two professed readers of the Koran,
to all of whom the sultan of the country sent presents of money.

In ten days they arrived in the territories of Ispahan, and remained
some days at the capital, a large and handsome city. From thence he
soon departed for Shiraz, which, though inferior to Damascus, was even
then an extensive and well-built city, remarkable for the beauty of its
streets, gardens, and waters. Its inhabitants likewise, and particularly
the women, were persons of integrity, religion, and virtue; but our
singular traveller remarks, that for his part he had no other object in
going thither than that of visiting the Sheïkh Majd Oddin, the paragon
of saints and workers of miracles! By this holy man he was received with
great kindness, of which he retained so grateful a remembrance, that on
returning home twenty years afterward from the remotest countries of the
east, he undertook a journey of five-and-thirty days for the mere purpose
of seeing his ancient host.

The greater portion of the early life of Ibn Batūta was consumed in
visiting saints, or the birthplaces and tombs of saints: but his time was
not therefore misemployed; for, besides the positive pleasure which the
presence or sight of such objects appears to have generated in his own
mind, at every step he advanced in this sacred pilgrimage his personal
consequence, and his claims upon the veneration and hospitality of
princes and other great men, were increased. As he may be regarded as the
representative of a class of men extremely numerous in the early ages of
Islamism, and whose character and mode of life are highly illustrative
of the manners of those times, it is important to follow the footsteps
of our traveller in his whimsical wanderings a little more closely than
would otherwise be necessary.

Proceeding, therefore, at the heels of the honest theologian, we next
find him at Kazerun, beholding devoutly the tomb of the Sheïkh Abu
Is-hāk, a saint held in high estimation throughout India and China,
especially by sailors, who, when tossed about by adverse or tempestuous
winds upon the ocean, make great vows to him, which, when safely landed,
they pay to the servants of his cell. From hence he proceeded through
various districts, many of which were desert and uninhabitable, to Kufa
and Hilla, whence, having visited the mosque of the twelfth imam, whose
readvent is still expected by his followers, he departed for Bagdad.
Here, as at Rome or Athens, the graves of great men abounded; so that
Ibn Batūta’s sympathies were every moment awakened, and apparently too
painfully; for, notwithstanding that it was one of the largest and most
celebrated cities in the world, he almost immediately quitted it with
Bahadar Khan, sultan of Irak, whom he accompanied for ten days on his
march towards Khorasān. Upon his signifying his desire to return, the
prince dismissed him with large presents and a dress of honour, together
with the means of performing the pilgrimage to Mecca, which, as an
incipient saint, he imagined he could not too frequently repeat.

Finding, on his return to Bagdad, that a considerable time would elapse
before the departure of the caravan for the Holy City, he resolved to
employ the interval in traversing various portions of Mesopotamia, and
in visiting numerous cities which he had not hitherto seen. Among these
places the most remarkable were Samarā, celebrated in the history of
the Calif Vathek; Mousul, which is said to occupy the site of ancient
Nineveh; and Nisibēn, renowned throughout the east for the beauty of
its position, and the incomparable scent of the rose-water manufactured
there. He likewise spent some time at the city and mountain of Sinjar,
inhabited by that extraordinary Kurdish tribe who, according to the
testimony of several modern travellers, pay divine honours to the Devil.

This little excursion being concluded, Batūta found the caravan in
readiness to set out for Mecca, and departing with it, and arriving safe
in the Holy City, he performed all the ceremonies and rites prescribed,
and remained there three years, subsisting upon the alms contributed by
the pious bounty of the inhabitants of Irak, and conveyed to Mecca by
caravans. His travelling fit now returning, he left the birthplace of the
prophet, and repairing to Jidda, proceeded with a company of merchants
towards Yemen by sea. After being driven by contrary winds to the coast
of Africa, and landing at Sūakin, he at length reached Yemen; in the
various cities and towns of which he was entertained with a hospitality
so generous and grateful that he seems never to be tired of dwelling on
their praises. He did not, however, remain long among his munificent
hosts, but, taking ship at Aden, passed over once more into Africa, and
landed at Zaila, a city of the Berbers. The inhabitants of this place,
though Mohammedans, were a rude, uncultivated people, living chiefly
upon fish and the flesh of camels, which are slaughtered in the streets,
where their blood and offals were left putrefying to infect the air. From
this stinking city he proceeded by sea to Makdasha, the Magadocia of
the Portuguese navigators; a very extensive place, where the hospitable
natives were wont, on the arrival of a ship, to come down in a body to
the seashore, and select each his guest from among the merchants.—When
a theologian or a nobleman happened to be among the passengers, he was
received and entertained by the kazi; and as Ibn Batūta belonged to the
former class he of course became the guest of this magistrate. Here he
remained a short time, passing his days in banqueting and pleasure; and
then returned to Arabia.

During the stay he now made in this country he collected several
particulars respecting the trade and manners of the people, which are
neither trifling nor unimportant. The inhabitants of Zafār, the most
easterly city of Yemen, carried on at that period, he observes, a great
trade in horses with India, the voyage being performed in a month. The
practice he remarked among the same people of feeding their flocks and
herds with fish, and which, he says, he nowhere else observed, prevails,
however, up to the present day, among the nations of the Coromandel
coast, as well as in other parts of the east. At El Ahkāf, the city
of the tribe of Aād, there were numerous gardens, producing enormous
bananas, with the cocoanut and the betel. Our fanciful traveller
discovered a striking resemblance between the cocoanut and a man’s head,
observing that exteriorly there was something resembling eyes and a
mouth, and that when young the pulp within was like brains. To complete
the similitude, the hair was represented by the fibre, from which, he
remarks, cords for sewing together the planks of their vessels, as also
cordage and cables, were manufactured. The nut itself, according to him,
was highly nourishing, and, like the betel-leaf, a powerful aphrodisiac.

Still pursuing his journey through Arabia, he crossed the desert of
Ammān, and met with a people extraordinary among Mahommedans, whose wives
were liberal of their favours, without exciting the jealousy of their
husbands, and who, moreover, considered it lawful to feed upon the flesh
of the domestic ass. From thence he crossed the Persian Gulf to Hormuz,
where, among many other extraordinary things, he saw the head of a fish
resembling a hill, the eyes of which were like two doors, so that people
could walk in at one eye and out at the other! He now felt himself to
be within the sphere of attraction of an object whose power he could
never resist. There was, he heard, at Janja-bal, a certain saint, and
of course he forthwith formed the resolution to refresh himself with
a sight of him. He therefore crossed the sea, and hiring a number of
Turcomans, without whose protection there was no travelling in that part
of the country, entered a waterless desert, four days’ journey in extent,
over which the Bedouins wander in caravans, and where the death-bearing
simoom blows during the hot months of summer. Having passed this desolate
and dreary tract, he arrived in Kusistān, a small province of Persia,
bordering upon Laristān, in which Janja-bal, the residence of the saint,
was situated. The sheïkh, who was secretly, or, as the people believed,
miraculously, supplied with a profusion of provisions, received our
traveller courteously, sent him fruit and food, and contrived to impress
him with a high idea of his sanctity.

He now entered upon the ancient kingdom of Fars, an extensive and fertile
country, abounding in gardens producing a profusion of aromatic herbs,
and where the celebrated pearl-fisheries of Bahrein, situated in a
tranquil arm of the sea, are found. The pearl divers employed here were
Arabs, who, tying a rope round their waists, and wearing upon their faces
a mask made of tortoise-shell, descended into the water, where, according
to Batūta, some remained an hour, others two, searching among forests of
coral for the pearls.

Ibn Batūta was possessed by an extraordinary passion for performing the
pilgrimage to Mecca; and now (A. D. 1332), the year in which El Malik
El Nāsir, sultan of Egypt, visited the holy city, set out from Persia
on his third sacred expedition. Having made the necessary genuflexions,
and kissed the black stone at the Kaaba, he began to turn his thoughts
towards India, but was prevented, we know not how, from carrying his
design into execution; and traversing a portion of Arabia and Egypt,
entered Room or Turkey. Here, in the province of Anatolia, he was
entertained by an extraordinary brotherhood, to whom, as to all his
noble hosts and entertainers, he devotes a portion of his travels.
This association, which existed in every Turcoman town, consisted of a
number of youths, who, under the direction of one of the members, called
“the brother,” exercised the most generous hospitality towards all
strangers, and were the vigorous and decided enemies of oppression. Upon
the formation of one of these associations, the brother, or president,
erected a cell, in which were placed a horse, a saddle, and whatever
other articles were considered necessary. The president himself, and
every thing in the cell, were always at the service of the members, who
every evening conveyed the product of their industry to the president, to
be sold for the benefit of the cell; and when any stranger arrived in the
town, he was here hospitably entertained, and contributed to increase the
hilarity of the evening, which was passed in feasting, drinking, singing,
and dancing.

Travelling to Iconium, and other cities of Asia Minor, in all of which
he was received and entertained in a splendid manner, while presents of
slaves, horses, and gold were sometimes bestowed upon him, he at length
took ship at Senab, and sailed for Krim Tartary. During the voyage
he endured great hardships, and was very near being drowned; but at
length arrived at a small port on the margin of the desert of Kifjāk,
a country over which Mohammed Uzbek Khan then reigned. Being desirous
of visiting the court of this prince, Ibn Batūta now hired one of those
arabahs, or carts, in which the inhabitants travel with their families
over those prodigious plains, where neither mountain nor hill nor tree
meets the eye, and where the dung of animals serves as a substitute for
fuel, and entered upon a desert of six months’ extent. Throughout these
immense steppes, which are denominated _desert_ merely in reference to
their comparative unproductiveness, our traveller found cities, but
thinly scattered; and vast droves of cattle, which, protected by the
excessive severity of the laws, wandered without herdsmen or keepers
over the waste. The women of the country, though they wore no veils,
were virtuous, pious, and charitable; and consequently were held in high
estimation.

Arriving at the _Bish Tag_, or “Five Mountains,” he there found the
_urdu_ (whence our word _horde_) or camp of the sultan, a moving city,
with its streets, palaces, mosques, and cooking houses, “the smoke of
which ascended as they moved along.” Mohammed Uzbek, then sovereign
of Kifjāk, was a brave and munificent prince; and Ibn Batūta, having,
according to Tartar etiquette, first paid a visit of ceremony to each of
his wives, was politely received by him.

From this camp our traveller set out, with guides appointed by the
sultan, for the city of Bulgār, which, according to the Maresid Al Etluā,
is situated in Siberia. Here, in exemplification of the extreme shortness
of the night, he observes, that while repeating the prayer of sunset he
was overtaken, though he by no means lagged in his devotions, by the time
for evening prayer, which was no sooner over than it was time to begin
that of midnight; and that before he could conclude one voluntary orison,
which he added to this, the dawn had already appeared, and morning prayer
was to be begun. Forty days’ journey to the north of this place lay the
land of darkness, where, he was told, people travelled over interminable
plains of ice and snow, on small light sledges, drawn by dogs; but he was
deterred from pushing his researches into these Cimmerian regions by the
fear of danger, and considerations of the inutility of the journey. He
returned, therefore, to the camp of the sultan.

Mohammed Uzbek had married a daughter of the Greek Emperor of
Constantinople, who, being at this time pregnant, requested his
permission to be confined in her father’s palace, where it was her
intention to leave her child. The sultan consented, and Ibn Batūta,
conceiving that an excellent opportunity for visiting the Greek capital
now presented itself, expressed a desire to accompany the princess, but
the sultan, who regarded him apparently as something too gay for a saint,
at first refused to permit him. Upon his pressing the matter, however,
representing that he should never appear before the queen but as his
servant and guest, so that no fears need be entertained of him, the
royal husband, relenting, allowed him to go, and presented him, on his
departure, with fifteen hundred dinars, a dress of honour, and several
horses; while each of his sultanas, together with his sons and daughters,
caused the traveller to taste of their bounty.

The queen, while she remained in her husband’s territories, respected the
religion and manners of the Mohammedans; but she had no sooner entered
her father’s dominions, and found herself surrounded by her countrymen,
than she drank wine, dismissed the ministers of Islamism, and was
reported to commit the abomination of eating swine’s flesh. Ibn Batūta
was still treated with respect, however, and continuing to be numbered
among the suite of the sultana, arrived at length at Constantinople,
where, in his zeal to watch over the comfort of his royal mistress, he
exposed himself to the risk of being squeezed to death in the crowd.
On entering the city, his ears appear to have been much annoyed by the
ringing of numerous bells, which, with the inveterate passion of all
Europeans for noise when agitated by any joyous emotions, the Greeks of
Constantinople substituted for their own voices in the expression of
their satisfaction.

Remaining about five weeks in Constantinople, where, owing to the
difference of manners, language, and religion, he does not appear to
have tasted of much pleasure, he returned to Mohammed Uzbek, whose
bounty enabled him to pursue his journey towards the east in a very
superior style. The country to which his desires now pointed was
Khavāresm, the road thither traversing, during the greater part of the
way, a barren desert, where little water and a very scanty herbage were
to be found. Crossing this waste in a carriage drawn by camels, he
arrived at Khavāresm, the largest city at that period possessed by the
Turks. Here he found the people friendly towards strangers, liberal,
and well-bred,—and no wonder; for in every mosque a whip was hung up,
with which every person who absented himself from church was soundly
flogged by the priest, besides being fined in five dinars. This practice,
which Ibn Batūta thought highly commendable, no doubt contributed
greatly towards rendering the people liberal and well-bred. Next to
the refinement of the people, the most remarkable thing he observed at
Khavāresm was a species of melon, green on the outside, and red within,
which, being cut into thin oblong slices and dried, was packed up in
cases like figs, and exported to India and China. Thus preserved, the
Khavāresm melon was thought equal to the best dried fruits in the world,
and regarded as a present worthy of kings.

From hence Ibn Batūta departed for Bokhāra, a city renowned throughout
the east for the learning and refinement of its inhabitants, but at this
period so reduced and impoverished by the long wars of Genghis Khan and
his successors, that not one man was to be found in it who understood
any thing of science. Leaving this ancient seat of oriental learning,
he proceeded to Māwarā El Nahr, the sultan of which was a just and
powerful prince, who received him hospitably, and furnished him with
funds to pursue his wanderings. He next visited Samarkand, Balkh, and
Herat, in Khorasān; and scaling the snowy heights of the Hindoo Koosh,
or Hindoo-Slayer, so called because most of the slaves attempted to be
carried out of India by this route are killed by the severity of the
cold, he entered Kabul. Here, in a cell of the mountain called Bashāi,
he found an old man, who, though he had the appearance of being about
fifty, pretended to be three hundred and fifty years old, and assured Ibn
Batūta that at the expiration of every hundred years he was blessed with
a new growth of hair and new teeth, and that, in fact, he was the Rajah
Aba Rahim Ratan of India, who had been buried in Mooltam. Notwithstanding
his innate veneration for every thing saintly, and this man bore the name
of _Ata Evlin_, or “Father of Saints,” our honest traveller could not
repress the doubts which arose in his mind respecting his extraordinary
pretensions, and observes in his travels that he much _doubted_ of what
he was, and that he continued to doubt.

Ibn Batūta now crossed the Indus, and found himself in Hindostan, where,
immediately upon his arrival, he met, in a city which he denominates
Janai, one of the three brothers of Borhaneddin, the Egyptian saint,
whose prediction, strengthening his natural bent of mind, had made a
great traveller of him. Traversing the desert of Sivastān, where the
Egyptian thorn was the only tree to be seen, and then descending along
the banks of the Sinde, or Indus, he arrived at the city of Lahari, on
the seashore, in the vicinity of which were the ruins of an ancient
city, abounding with the sculptured figures of men and animals, which
the superstitious natives supposed to be the real forms of the ancient
inhabitants transformed by the Almighty into stone for their wickedness.

At Uja, a large city on the Indus, our traveller contracted a friendship
with the Emīr Jelaleddin, then governor of the place, a brave and
generous prince, whom he afterward met at Delhi. In journeying eastward
from this place, Batūta proceeded through a desert lying between two
ridges of mountains, inhabited by Hindoos, whom the traveller terms
infidel and rebellious, because they adhered to the faith of their
ancestors, and refused submission to the power of the Mohammedan
conquerors of their country. Ibn Batūta’s party, consisting of twenty-two
men, was here attacked by a large body of natives, which they succeeded
in repulsing, after they had killed thirteen of their number. In the
course of this journey he witnessed the performance of a suttee,
and remarks upon the occasion, that these human sacrifices were not
absolutely required either by the laws or the religion of Hindostan; but
that, owing to the vulgar prejudice which regarded those families as
ennobled who thus lost one of their members, the practice was greatly
encouraged.

On arriving at Delhi, which, for strength, beauty, and extent, he
pronounces the greatest city, not only of all Hindostan, but of all
Islamism in the east, he resorted to the palace of the queen-mother and
presenting his presents, according to custom, was graciously received
and magnificently established by the bounty of that princess and the
vizier. It is to be presumed, that the money he had received in presents
from various princes on the way had exceeded his travelling expenses,
and gone on accumulating, until, on his arrival at Delhi, it amounted
to a very considerable sum; for with his house, costly furniture, and
forty attendants, his expenditure seems greatly to have exceeded the
munificence of his patrons; indeed, he very soon found that all the
resources he could command were too scanty to supply the current of his
extravagance.

Being of the opinion of that ancient writer who thought a good companion
better than a coach on a journey, Ibn Batūta appears to have increased
his travelling establishment with a mistress, by whom he seems to have
had several children, for shortly after his arrival at the capital,
he informs us that “a daughter of his,” evidently implying that he had
more than one, happened to die. At this time our worthy theologian
was so deeply intoxicated with the fumes of that vanity which usually
accompanies the extraordinary smiles of fortune, that, although by no
means destitute of natural affection, nothing in the whole transaction
appears to have made any impression upon his mind except the honour
conferred upon him by the condescension of the vizier and the emperor.
The latter, then at a considerable distance from the capital, on being
informed of the event, commanded that the ceremonies and rites usually
performed at the funeral of the children of the nobility should now
take place; and accordingly, on the third day, when the body was to be
removed to its narrow house, the vizier, the judges, and the nobles
entered the chamber of mourning, spread a carpet, and made the necessary
preparations, consisting of incense, rose-water, readers of the Koran,
and panegyrists. Our traveller, who anticipated nothing of all this,
confesses ingenuously that he was “much gratified.” To the mother of the
child the queen-mother showed the greatest kindness, presenting her with
magnificent dresses and ornaments, and a thousand dinars in money.

The Emperor Mohammed having been absent from Delhi ever since our
traveller’s arrival, he had hitherto found no opportunity of presenting
himself before the “Lord of the World;” but upon that great personage’s
returning, soon after the funeral, the vizier undertook to introduce
him to the presence. The emperor received him graciously, taking him
familiarly by the hand, and, in the true royal style, lavishing the most
magnificent promises. As an earnest of his future bounty, he bestowed
upon each of the many travellers who were presented at the same time,
and met with the same reception, a gold-embroidered dress, which he
had himself worn; a horse from his own stud, richly caparisoned with
housings and saddle of silver; and such refreshments as the imperial
kitchen afforded. Three days afterward Ibn Batūta was appointed one
of the judges of Delhi, on which occasion the vizier observed to him,
“The Lord of the World appoints you to the office of judge in Delhi. He
also gives you a dress of honour with a saddled horse, as also twelve
thousand dinars for your present support. He has moreover appointed you
a yearly salary of twelve thousand dinars, and a portion of lands in the
villages, which will produce annually an equal sum.” He then did homage
and withdrew.

The fortune of Ibn Batūta was now changed. From the condition of a
religious adventurer, wandering from court to court, and from country to
country, subsisting upon the casual bounty of the great, he had now been
elevated to a post of great honour and emolument in the greatest city
then existing in the world. But it is very certain he was not rendered
happier by this promotion. The monarch upon whose nod his destiny now
depended was a man of changeful and ferocious nature, profuse and lavish
in the extreme towards those whom he affected, but when provoked,
diabolically cruel and revengeful. In the very first conference which our
traveller held with his master after his appointment, he made a false
step, and gave offence; for when the emperor had informed him that he
would by no means find his office a sinecure, he replied that he belonged
to the sect of Ibn Malik, whereas the people of Delhi were followers of
Hanīfa; and that, moreover, he was ignorant of their language. This would
have been a good reason why he should not in the first instance have
accepted the office of judge; but, having accepted of it, he should by no
means have brought forward his sectarian prejudices, or his ignorance, in
the hope of abridging the extent of his duties. The emperor, with evident
displeasure, rejoined, that he had appointed two learned men to be his
deputies, and that these would advise him how to act. He moreover added,
that it would be his business to sign all legal instruments.

Notwithstanding the profuse generosity of Mohammed Khan, Ibn Batūta,
who seems to have understood nothing of domestic economy, soon found
himself prodigiously in debt; but his genius, fertile in expedients, and
now sharpened by necessity, soon hit upon an easy way of satisfying his
creditors. Observing that, like most of his countrymen, Mohammed Khan was
an admirer of Arabian poetry, more particularly of such as celebrated his
own praises, our theological judge, whose conscience seems to have been
hushed to silence by his embarrassments, composed in Arabic a panegyric
upon his patron, who, to borrow his own expression, “was wonderfully
pleased with it.” Taking advantage, like a thoroughbred courtier, of
this fit of good-humour, he disclosed the secret of his debt, which the
emperor, who now, no doubt, perceived the real drift of the panegyric,
ordered to be discharged from his own treasury; but added, however, “Take
care, in future, not to exceed the extent of your income.” Upon this the
traveller, whether pleased with his generosity or his advice we will not
determine, exclaims, “May God reward him!”

No great length of time had elapsed, however, before Ibn Batūta perceived
that his grandeur had conducted him to the edge of a precipice. Having,
during a short absence of the emperor, visited a certain holy man who
resided in a cell without the city, and had once been in great favour
with Mohammed himself, our traveller received an order to attend at the
gate of the palace, while a council sat within. In most cases this was
the signal of death. But in order to mollify the Fates, Ibn Batūta betook
himself to fasting, subsisting, during the four days in which he thus
attended, upon pure water, and mentally repeating thirty-three thousand
times that verse of the Koran which says, “God is our support, and the
most excellent patron.” The aquatic diet and the repetitions prevailing,
he was acquitted, while every other person who had visited the sheïkh
was put to death. Perceiving that the risks incurred by a judge of Delhi
were at least equal to the emolument, Ibn Batūta began to feel his
inclination for his own free roaming mode of life return, resigned his
perilous office, bestowed all the wealth he possessed upon the fakeers,
and bidding adieu to the splendid vanities of the world, donned the tunic
of these religious mendicants, and attached himself during five months to
the renowned Sheïkh Kamāleddin Abdallah El Ghazi, a man who had performed
many open miracles.

Mohammed Khan, conceiving that the ex-judge had now performed sufficient
penance for his indiscretion, sent for him again, and receiving him more
graciously than ever, observed, “Knowing the delight you experience
in travelling into various countries, I am desirous of sending you on
an embassy into China.” Ibn Batūta, who appears by this time to have
grown thoroughly tired of a fakeer’s life, very readily consented, and
forthwith received those dresses of honour, horses, money, &c. which
invariably accompanied such an appointment. Ambassadors had lately
arrived from the Emperor of China with numerous costly presents for the
khan, and requesting permission to rebuild an idol temple within the
limits of Hindostan. Mohammed Khan, though, as a true Mussulman, he
could not grant such permission unless tribute were paid, was now about
to despatch ambassadors to his brother of China, “bearing, in proof of
his greatness and munificence, presents much more valuable than those
he had received.” These presents, as highly illustrative of the manners
of those times and countries, we shall enumerate in the words of the
traveller himself; they consisted of the following articles:—One hundred
horses of the best breed, saddled and bridled; one hundred Mamlūks; one
hundred Hindoo singing slave girls; one hundred Bairami dresses, the
value of each of which was a hundred dinars; one hundred silken dresses;
five hundred saffron-coloured dresses; one hundred pieces of the best
cotton cloth; one thousand dresses of the various clothing of India; with
numerous instruments of gold and silver, swords and quivers set with
jewels, and ten robes of honour wrought with gold, of the sultan’s own
dresses, with various other articles.

Ibn Batūta was accompanied on this mission by one of the chief of the
Ulema, and by a favourite officer of the emperor, who was intrusted with
the presents; and a guard of a thousand cavalry was appointed to conduct
them to the seaport where they were to embark. The Chinese ambassadors
and their suite returned homeward in their company. The embassy left
Delhi in the year 1342, but had not proceeded far before they encountered
a serious obstacle to their movements, and found themselves engaged
in warlike operations. El Jalali, a city lying in their route, being
besieged by the Hindoos, Ibn Batūta and his companions determined, like
true Mussulmans, to unite with their distressed brethren in repelling
the infidel forces, and in the commencement their valour was rewarded
by success; but a great number of their troop suffering “martyrdom,”
and among the rest the officer who had been intrusted with the care of
the present, it was judged necessary to transmit an account of what
had taken place to Delhi, and await the further commands of the “Lord
of the World.” In the mean while the Hindoos, though, according to Ibn
Batūta, thoroughly subdued, if not exterminated, continued their attacks
upon the Moslems; and during one of these affrays our valiant traveller
was accidentally placed in the greatest jeopardy. Having joined his
coreligionists in pursuing the vanquished Hindoos, he suddenly found
himself and five others separated from the main body of the army, and
pursued in their turn by the enemy. At length his five companions,
escaping in different directions, or falling by the sword of the Hindoos,
disappeared, and he was thus left alone in the midst of the most imminent
danger. Just at this moment the forefeet of his horse sticking fast
between two stones, he dismounted to set the beast at liberty, and
observed, that having entered the mouth of a valley his pursuers had lost
sight of him, as he had of them. Of the country, however, the towns, the
roads, and the rivers he was totally ignorant; so that, thinking his
horse as good a judge of what was best as himself in the present dilemma,
he permitted the animal to select his own path. The horse, imagining,
perhaps, that shade and safety were synonymous, proceeded towards a part
of the valley where the trees were closely interwoven, but had no sooner
reached it than a party of about forty cavalry rushed out, and made our
ambassador prisoner.

Ibn Batūta, who immediately alighted from his charger, now began
to believe that all his journeyings were at an end; and that,
notwithstanding his dreams, and the predictions of many saints, he
was doomed never to behold China, or the second and third brothers of
the Sheïkh Borhaneddin. To corroborate his apprehensions the Hindoos
plundered him of all he possessed, bound his arms, and, taking him
along with them, travelled for two days through a country unknown to
our traveller, who, not understanding the language or manners of his
captors, imagined they intended to kill, and, perhaps, to eat him.
From these fears he was soon delivered, however, for at the end of two
days, the Hindoos, supposing, no doubt, that they had terrified him
sufficiently, gave him his liberty, and rode away. The shadows of his
past apprehensions still haunting him, he no sooner found himself alone
than plunging into the depths of an almost impenetrable forest he sought
among the haunts of wild animals an asylum from the fury of man. Here he
subsisted seven days upon the fruit and leaves of the mountain trees,
occasionally venturing out to examine whither the neighbouring roads
might lead, but always finding them conduct him towards ruins or the
abode of Hindoos.

On the seventh day of his concealment he met with a black man, who
politely saluted him, and, the salute being returned, demanded his name.
Having satisfied the stranger upon this point, our traveller made the
same demand, and the stranger replied that he was called El Kalb El Karīh
(the “Wounded Heart”). He then gave Ibn Batūta some pulse to eat, and
water to drink, and, observing that he was too weak to walk, took him
upon his shoulders and carried him along. In this position our traveller
fell asleep, and his nap must have been a long one, for, awaking about
the dawn of the next day, he found himself at the gate of the emperor’s
palace. What became of his extraordinary charger he does not inform us;
but the emperor, who had already received by a courier the news of his
misfortunes, bestowed upon him ten thousand dinars, to console him for
his losses, and once more equipped him for his journey. Another officer
was sent to take charge of the present, returning with whom to the city
of Kul, he rejoined his companions, and proceeded on his mission.

Proceeding by the way of Dowlutabad, Nazarabad, Canbaza, and Pattan, he
at length arrived at Kalikut in Malabar, where the whole party were to
embark for China. Here, not having properly timed their arrival, our
sage ambassadors had to remain three months, waiting for a favourable
wind. When the season for departure had arrived, the other members of
the embassy embarked with the present; but Ibn Batūta, finding the
cabin which had been assigned him much too small to contain his baggage
and the multitude of slave girls, remained on shore for the purpose of
bargaining for a larger vessel, and hearing divine service on the next
day. During the night a tempest arose, which drove several of the junks
upon the shore, where a great number of the crew and passengers perished.
The ship which contained the imperial present weathered the storm until
the morning, when our traveller, descending to the beach, beheld her
tossed about upon the furious waves, while the officers of the emperor
prostrated themselves upon the deck in despair. Presently she struck upon
the rocks, and every soul on board perished. A part of the fleet, among
the rest the vessel containing our traveller’s property, sailed away, and
of the fate of the greater number of them nothing was ever known. The
whole of Ibn Batūta’s wealth now consisted of a prostration carpet and
ten dinars; but being told that in all probability the ship in which he
had embarked his fortune had put into Kawlam, a city ten days’ journey
distant, he proceeded thither, but upon his arrival found that his hopes
had been buoyed up in vain.

He was now in the most extraordinary dilemma in which he had ever been
placed. Knowing the fierce and unreflecting character of the emperor,
who, without weighing his motives, would condemn him for having remained
on shore; and being too poor to remain where he was, he could not for
some time determine how to act. At length, however, he resolved to visit
the court of Jemaleddin, king of Hinaur, who received him kindly, and
allowed him to become reader to the royal mosque. Shortly afterward,
having been encouraged thereto by a favourable omen, obtained from
a sentence of the Koran, he accompanied Jemaleddin in an expedition
against the island of Sindibur, which was subdued and taken possession
of. To console Ibn Batūta for the many misfortunes he had lately
endured, Jemaleddin presented him with a slave girl, clothing, and other
necessaries; and he remained with him several months. Still, however,
he was not reconciled to the loss of his pretty female slave and other
property which had been embarked in the Chinese ship, and requested the
king’s permission to make a voyage to Kawlam for the purpose of making
inquiries concerning it. His request being granted, he proceeded to
Kawlam, where, to his great grief, he learned that his former mistress
had died, and that his property had been seized upon by the “infidels,”
while his followers had found other masters.

This affair being thus at an end, he returned to Sindibur, where he found
his friend Jemaleddin besieged by an infidel king. Not being able to
enter the city, he embarked, without delay, for the Maldive Islands, all
parts of the earth being now much alike to him, and after a ten days’
voyage arrived at that extraordinary archipelago. Here, after dwelling
upon the praises of the cocoanut, which he describes as an extremely
powerful aphrodisiac, he informs us, as a commentary upon the above
text, that he had four wives, besides a reasonable number of mistresses.
Nevertheless, the natives, he says, are chaste and religious, and so
very peacefully disposed that their only weapons are prayers. In one of
these islands he was raised to the office of judge, when, according to
his own testimony, he endeavoured to prevail upon his wives, contrary to
the custom of the country, to eat in his company, and conceal their bosom
with their garments, but could never succeed.

The legend which ascribes the conversion of these islanders to
Mohammedanism, the religion now prevailing there, to a man who delivered
the country from a sea-monster, which was accustomed to devour monthly
one of their most beautiful virgins, strongly resembles the story of
Perseus and Andromeda. In order to keep up the fervency of their piety
the monster still appears on a certain day in the offing. Ibn Batūta,
who had little of the skeptic in his composition, saw the apparition
himself, in the form of a ship filled with candles and torches; and it
may, perhaps, be the same supernatural structure which still hovers about
those seas, sailing in the teeth of the wind, and denominated by European
mariners the “Flying Dutchman.” In these islands Ibn Batūta remained some
time, sailing from isle to isle through glittering and tranquil seas,
being everywhere raised to posts of honour and distinction, and tasting
of all the delights and pleasures which power, consideration, and a
delicious climate could bestow.

Neither riches nor honours, however, could fix Ibn Batūta in one place.
He was as restless as a wave of the sea. No sooner, therefore, had he
seen the principal curiosities of the Maldive Islands, than he burned
to be again in motion, visiting new scenes, and contemplating other men
and other manners. Embarking on board a Mohammedan vessel, he set sail
for the island of Ceylon, principally for the purpose of visiting the
mark of Adam’s footstep on the mountain of Serendib, the lofty summit of
which appeared, he observes, like a pillar of smoke at the distance of
nine days’ sail. Drawing near the land, he was at first forbidden by the
Hindoo authorities to come on shore; but, upon his informing them that
he was a relation of the King of Maabar, as he in some sense was, having
while at Delhi married the sister of that prince’s queen, they permitted
him to disembark. The king of the country, who happened at that time to
be in amity with the sovereign of Maabar, received him hospitably, and
bade him ask boldly for whatever he might want. “My only desire,” replied
the traveller, “in coming to this island is to visit the blessed foot of
our forefather Adam.” This being the case, the king informed him that
his desires might easily be gratified, and forthwith granted him an
escort of four Jogees, four Brahmins, ten courtiers, and fifteen men for
carrying provisions, with a palanquin and bearers for his own use.

With this superb retinue the traveller departed from Battalā, the capital
of his royal host, and journeying for several days through a country
abounding with wild elephants, arrived at the city of Kankār, situated
on the Bay of Rubies, where the emperor of the whole island at that time
resided. Here Ibn Batūta saw the only white elephant which he beheld
in all his travels; and the beast, being set apart for the use of the
prince, had his head adorned with enormous rubies, one of which was
larger than a hen’s egg. Other rubies of still greater magnitude were
sometimes found in the mines, and Ibn Batūta saw a saucer as large as
the palm of the hand cut from one single stone. Rubies were in fact so
plentiful here that the women wore strings of them upon their arms and
legs, instead of bracelets and ankle-rings.

In the course of this journey our traveller passed through a district
inhabited chiefly by black monkeys, with long tails, and beards like
men. He was assured by “very pious and credible persons” that these
monkeys had a kind of leader, or king, who, being, we suppose, ambitious
of appearing to be an Islamite, wore upon his head a species of turban
composed of the leaves of trees, and reclined on a staff as upon a
sceptre. He had, moreover, his council and his harem, like any other
prince; and one of the Jogees asserted that he had himself seen the
officers of his court doing justice upon a criminal, by beating him with
rods, and plucking off all his hair. His revenue, which was paid in kind,
consisted of a certain number of nuts, lemons, and mountain fruit; but
upon what principle it was collected we are not informed. Another of the
wonders of Ceylon were the terrible tree-leeches, which, springing from
the branches, or from the tall rank grass, upon the passing traveller,
fastened upon him, drained out his blood, and sometimes occasioned
immediate death. To prevent this fatal result the inhabitants always
carry a lemon about with them, which they squeeze upon the leech, and
thus force him to quit his hold.

Arriving at length at the Seven Caves, and the Ridge of Alexander,
they began to ascend the mountain of Serendib, which, according to the
orientals, is one of the highest in the world. Its summit rises above
the region of the clouds; for our traveller observes, that when he had
ascended it, he beheld those splendid vapours rolling along in masses
far beneath his feet. Among the extraordinary trees and plants which
grew upon this mountain is that red rose, about the size of the palm
of the hand, upon the leaves of which the Mohammedans imagine they can
read the name of God and of the Prophet. Two roads lead to the top of
this mountain, of which the one is said to be that of Bābā, or Adam; the
other, that of Māmā, or Eve. The latter is winding, sloping, and easy
of ascent, and is therefore chosen by the pilgrims impatient on their
first arrival to visit the Blessed Foot; but whoever departs without
having also climbed the rough and difficult road of Bābā, is thought not
to have performed the pilgrimage at all. The mark of the foot, which is
eleven spans in length, is in a rock upon the very apex of the mountain.
In the same rock, surrounding the impression of the foot, there are nine
small excavations, into which the pagan pilgrims, who imagine it to be
the print of Buddha’s foot instead of that of Adam, put gold, rubies,
and other jewels; and hence the fakeers who come hither on pilgrimage
strenuously endeavour to outstrip each other in their race up the
mountain, that they may seize upon those treasures.

In returning from the pilgrimage our traveller saw that sacred
cypress-tree the leaves of which never fall, or if they do, drop off so
seldom that it is thought that the person who finds one and eats it will
return again to the blooming season of youth, however old he may be. When
Ibn Batūta passed by the tree, he saw several Jogees beneath it, watching
for the dropping of a leaf; but whether they ever tasted of the joys of
rejuvenescence, or quickened the passage of their souls into younger
bodies, he does not inform us.

Returning thence to Battalā, he embarked on board the same ship which
had conveyed him to Ceylon, and departed for Maabar. During the voyage,
short as it was, a storm arose which endangered the ship, and put their
lives in jeopardy; but they were saved by the bravery of the Hindoo
pilots, who put out in their small frail boats, and brought them to
land. He was received by his relation, the Sultan Ghietheddin, with
great honour and distinction; but this prince being then engaged in war,
for the vicissitudes and dangers of which our traveller had never any
particular predilection, he departed on a visit to the Rajah of Hinaur.
Passing on his way through the city of Fattan, he saw among groves of
pomegranate-trees and vines a number of fakeers, one of whom had seven
foxes, who breakfasted and dined with him daily, while another had a lion
and a gazelle, which lived together as familiarly as the dogs and angolas
in a cat-merchant’s cage on the Pont Neuf.

Before he could leave the Maabar country, he was seized with a
dangerous fever at Maturah, where the Sultan Ghietheddin died of
the same contagious disorder. On his recovery he obtained the new
sultan’s permission to continue his journey, and embarking at Kawlam
in Malabar, proceeded towards Hinaur. Ibn Batūta was seldom fortunate
at sea. Sometimes he was robbed; at other times nearly drowned. The
present voyage was the most unfortunate he ever undertook, for the ship
being attacked and taken by pirates, he, as well as the rest of the
passengers and crew, was robbed of all he possessed, and landed on the
coast penniless and nearly naked. He contrived, however, by the aid of
the charitable, we presume, to find his way to Kalicut, where, meeting
with several merchants and lawyers who had known him in the days of his
prosperity at Delhi, he was once more equipped handsomely, and enabled
to pursue his romantic adventures. He had at this time some thoughts
of returning to the court of the Sultan Mohammed, but fear, or rather
prudence, deterred him, and he took the more agreeable route of the
Maldive Islands, where he had left a little boy with his native mother.
It seems to have been his intention to have taken away the child; but as
the laws of the country forbade the emigration of women, he came away as
he went, abandoning his offspring to the affection of its mother.

From hence the bounty of the vizier enabled him to proceed to Bengal,
a country then, as now, renowned for its prodigious fertility, and the
consequent cheapness of provisions. He still, we find, regarded himself
as a servant of the emperor, for Fakraddin, the king or subahdar of
Bengal, being then in rebellion against Mohammed, Ibn Batūta avoided
being presented to him, and proceeded towards Tibet, for the purpose of
visiting a famous saint, who wrought “great and notable” miracles, and
lived to the great age of one hundred and fifty years. This great man,
who was accustomed to fast ten days at a time, and sit up all night,
foresaw supernaturally the visit of Ibn Batūta, and sent forth four
of his companions to meet him at the distance of two days’ journey,
observing, “A western religious traveller is coming to you; go out and
meet him.”

On arriving at the cell he found the sheïkh prepared to receive him;
and with this great saint and his followers he remained three days. On
the day of our traveller’s presentation the sheïkh wore a fine yellow
garment, for which in his heart Ibn Batūta conceived an unaccountable
longing; and the saint, who, it seems, could read the thoughts of men,
as well as the secrets of futurity, immediately went to the side of the
cave, and taking it off, together with his fillet and his sleeves, put
the whole upon his guest. The fakeers informed Batūta, however, that the
sage had predicted that the garment would be taken away by an infidel
king, and given to the Sheïkh Borhaneddin of Sagirj, for whom it was
made; but Batūta replied, “Since I have a blessing from the sheïkh, and
since he has clothed me with his own clothes, I will never enter with
them into the presence of any king, whether infidel or Moslem.” The
prediction, however, was accomplished, for the Emperor of China took away
the garment, and bestowed it upon the very Borhaneddin in question.

Descending from these mountains to the seashore, he embarked at
Sutirkawan for Sumatra, and touching on the way at certain islands,
which may, perhaps, have been the greater and lesser Andamans, saw a
people with mouths like dogs, who wore no clothing, and were totally
destitute of religion. Leaving these islands, they arrived in fifteen
days at Sumatra, a green and blooming island, where the frankincense,
the cocoanut, the Indian aloe, the sweet orange, and the camphor-reed
were found in great abundance. Proceeding to the capital, our traveller
was hospitably received by the Sultan Jemaleddin, a pious and munificent
prince, who walked to his prayers on Friday, and was peculiarly partial
to the professors of the Mohammedan law; while in the arts of government
and war he exhibited great talents, keeping his infidel neighbours in awe
of him, and maintaining among his own subjects a great enthusiasm for his
person.

After remaining here fifteen days, partaking of the hospitality of the
Sultan Jemaleddin, our traveller departed in a junk for China, where,
after a pleasant and prosperous voyage, he arrived in safety, and found
himself surrounded by new wonders. This, he thought, was the richest and
most fertile country he had ever visited. Mohammedanism, however, had
made little or no progress among the yellow men, for he observes that
they were all infidels, worshipping images, and burning their dead, like
the Hindoos. The emperor, at this period, was a descendant of Genghis
Khan, who seems to have so far tolerated the Mohammedans, that they had
a separate quarter allotted to them in every town, where they resided
apart from the pagans. Ibn Batūta seems to have regarded the Chinese with
a secret disgust, for he observes that they would eat the flesh of both
dogs and swine, which was sold publicly in their markets. Though greatly
addicted to the comforts and pleasures of life, the distinctions of rank
were not very apparent among them, the richest merchants dressing, like
the commonalty, in a coarse cotton dress, and all making use, in walking,
of a staff, which was called “the third leg.” In the extreme cheapness
of silks, our traveller might have discovered the reason why the richest
merchants wore cotton; for, as he himself observes, one cotton dress
would purchase many silk ones, which, accordingly, were the usual dress
of the poorer classes.

The internal trade and commerce of the country was carried on with paper
money, which, as Marco Polo likewise observes, had totally superseded the
use of the dirhem and the dinar. These bank-notes, if we may so apply the
term, were about the size of the palm of the hand, and were stamped with
the royal stamp. When torn accidentally, or worn out by use, these papers
could be carried to what may be termed their mint, and changed without
loss for new ones, the emperor being satisfied with the profits accruing
from their circulation. No other money was in use. Whatever gold and
silver was possessed by individuals was melted into ingots, and placed
for show over the doors of their houses.

The perfection to which the Chinese of those days had carried the
elegant and useful arts appeared extraordinary to our traveller, who
dwells with vast complacency upon the beauty of their paintings and the
peculiar delicacy of their porcelain. One example of their ingenuity
amused him exceedingly. Returning after a short absence to one of their
cities, through which he had just passed, he found the walls and houses
ornamented with portraits of himself and his companions. This, however,
was a mere police regulation, intended to familiarize the people with
the forms and features of strangers, that should they commit any crime
they might be easily recognised. Ships found to contain any article
not regularly entered in the custom-house register were confiscated;
“a species of oppression,” says our traveller, “which I witnessed
nowhere else.” Strangers, on their first arrival, placed themselves and
their property in the keeping of some merchant or innkeeper, who was
answerable for the safety of both. The Chinese, regarding their children
as property, sell them whenever they can get a purchaser, which renders
slaves both male and female extremely cheap among them; and as chastity
appears to possess little or no merit in their eyes, travellers are in
the habit of purchasing, on their arrival in any city, a slave girl, who
resides with them while they remain, and at their departure is either
sold again, like an ordinary piece of furniture, or taken away along
with them to be disposed of elsewhere. The severity of their police
regulations proves that their manners had even then arrived at that
pitch of corruption in which little or no reliance is to be placed on
moral influence, the place of which is supplied by caution, vigilance,
and excessive terror. Strangers moved about in the midst of innumerable
guards, who might, perhaps, be considered as much in the light of spies
as defenders. Fear predominated everywhere; the traveller feared his
host, and the host the traveller. Religion, honour, morals had no power,
or rather no existence. Hence the low pitch beyond which the civilization
of China has never been able to soar, and that retrogradation towards
barbarism which has long commenced in that country, and is rapidly urging
the population towards the miserable condition in which they were plunged
before the times of Yaon and Shan, who drew them out of their forests and
caverns.

To proceed, however, with the adventures of our traveller. The first
great city at which he arrived he denominated El Zaitūn, which was the
place where the best coloured and flowered silks in the empire were
manufactured. It was situated upon a large arm of the sea, and being
one of the finest ports in the world, carried on an immense trade,
and overflowed with wealth and magnificence. He next proceeded to Sin
Kilan, another city on the seashore, beyond which, he was informed,
neither Chinese nor Mohammedan ever travelled, the inhabitants of those
parts being fierce, inhospitable, and addicted to cannibalism. In a
cave without this city was a hermit, or more properly an impostor, who
pretended to have arrived at the great age of two hundred years without
eating, drinking, or sleeping. Ibn Batūta, who could not, of course,
avoid visiting so great and perfect a being, going to his cell, found
him to be a thin, beardless, copper-coloured old man, possessing all the
external marks of a saint. When the worthy traveller saluted him, instead
of returning his salutation, he seized his hand, and smelt it; and then,
turning to the interpreter, he said, “This man is just as much attached
to this world as we are to the next.” Upon further discourse, it appeared
that the saint and the traveller had met before, the former being, in
fact, a jogee, whom Ibn Batūta had seen many years before leaning against
the wall of an idol temple in the island of Sindibur. Saints, as well
as other men, are sometimes imprudent. The jogee had no sooner made
this confession than he repented of it, and, retreating into his cell,
immediately disguised himself, so that the traveller, who he suspected
would forcibly follow him, could not upon entering recognise his person
in the least. To infuse into his visiter’s mind the belief that he
possessed the power of rendering himself invisible, he informed him that
he had seen the last of the holy men, who, though at that moment present,
was not to be seen. On returning to the city, our traveller was assured
by the judge of the place that it was the same person who had appeared to
him both within and without the cave, and that, in fact, the good man was
fond of playing such tricks.

Returning to El Zaitūn, he proceeded towards the capital, and halted a
little at the city of Fanjanfūr, which, from the number and beauty of
its gardens, in some measure resembled Damascus. Here, at a banquet to
which he was invited, the remembrance of home was forcibly recalled to
his mind by a very affecting and unexpected meeting. He was sitting at
table, among his jovial entertainers, when a great Mohammedan fakeer,
who entered and joined the company, attracted his attention; and as he
continued to gaze earnestly at him for some time, the man at length
observed him, and said, “Why do you continue looking at me, unless you
know me?” To this Ibn Batūta replied, by demanding the name of his
native place. “I am,” said the man, “from Ceuta.”—“And I,” replied Ibn
Batūta, “am from Tangiers.” By that peculiar structure of the mind which
gives associations of ideas, whether pleasurable or painful, so thorough
an empire over our feelings, the very enunciation of those two sounds
melted and subdued the temper of their souls. The fakeer saluted him,
and wept; and the traveller, returning his salute, wept also. Ibn Batūta
then inquired whether he had ever been in India, and was informed that
he had remained for some time in the imperial palace of Delhi. A sudden
recollection now flashed upon our traveller’s mind: “Are you, then, El
Bashiri?” said he; and the fakeer replied, “I am he.” Ibn Batūta now
knew who he was, and remembered that while yet a youth without a beard
he had travelled with his uncle, Abul Kasim, from Africa to Hindostan;
and that he himself had afterward recommended him as an able repeater
of the Koran to the emperor, though the fakeer, preferring liberty and
a rambling life, had refused to accept of any office. He was now in
possession, however, of both rank and riches, and bestowed many presents
upon his former benefactor. To show the wandering disposition of the men,
our traveller remarks that he shortly after met with the brother of this
fakeer at Sondan, in the heart of Africa.

Still proceeding on his way, he next arrived at the city of El Khausa
(no doubt the Kinsai of Marco Polo), which he pronounces the longest he
had ever seen on the face of the earth; and to give some idea of its
prodigious extent, observes, that a traveller might journey on through
it for three days, and still find lodgings. As the Chinese erect their
houses in the midst of gardens, like the natives of Malabar, and enclose
within the walls what may be termed parks and meadows, the population
of their cities is never commensurate with their extent; so that their
largest capitals may be regarded as inferior in population to several
cities of Europe. However, the flames of civil war, which then raged with
inextinguishable fury through the whole empire, prevented our traveller
from visiting Khan Balik, the Cambalu of Marco Polo and the older
geographers, and the Peking of the Chinese; and therefore he returned
to El Zaitūn, where he embarked on board a Mohammedan vessel bound for
Sumatra. During this voyage, in which they were driven by a tempest into
unknown seas, both our traveller and the crew of the ship in which he
sailed mistook a cloud for an island, and, being driven towards it by
the wind, suffered, by anticipation, all the miseries of shipwreck. Some
betook themselves to prayer and repentance; others made vows. In the mean
while night came on, the wind died away, and in the morning, when they
looked out for their island, they found that it had ascended into the
air, while a bright current of light flowed between it and the sea. New
fears now seized upon the superstitious crew. Escaped from shipwreck,
they began to imagine that the dusky body which they discovered
at a distance hovering in the sky was no other than the monstrous
rock-bird which makes so distinguished a figure in the Arabian Nights’
Entertainment; and they had little doubt, that should it perceive them,
it would immediately pounce upon and devour both them and their ship. The
wind blowing in a contrary direction, they escaped, however, from the
rock, and in the course of two months arrived safely in Java, where our
traveller was honourably received and entertained by the king.

Remaining here two months, and receiving from the sultan presents of
lignum, aloes, camphire, cloves, sandal-wood, and provisions, he at
length departed in a junk bound for Kawlam, in Malabar, where, after
a voyage of forty days, he arrived; and visiting Kalikut and Zafār,
again departed for the Persian Gulf. Traversing a portion of Persia and
Mesopotamia, he entered Syria; and the desire of visiting his native
place now springing up in his heart, he hastened, after once more
performing the pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina, to embark for Barbary,
and arrived at Fez in 1350, after an absence of twenty-six years. Though
received in the most distinguished manner by his native sovereign,
who, in his opinion, united all the good and great qualities of all the
great princes he had seen, and believing, like a true patriot, that his
own country of all the regions of the earth was the most beautiful,
the old habit of locomotion was still too strong to be subdued; and
imagining he should enjoy peculiar pleasure in warring for the true
faith, he passed over into Spain, where the Mohammedans were then engaged
in vanquishing or eradicating the power of the Christians. The places
which here principally commanded his attention were, the Hill of Victory
(Gibraltar), and Granada, whose suburbs, surpassing those of Damascus
itself, and intersected by the sparkling waters of the Xenil, appeared to
him the finest in the whole world.

From Spain Ibn Batūta again passed into Africa, apparently without at
all engaging in the war against the Christians, and, after traversing
the cultivated districts, entered the great desert of Sahara, through
which he proceeded, without meeting with village or habitation for
five-and-twenty days, when they arrived at Tagāzā, or Thagari, a place
built entirely of rock salt. Proceeding onwards through the desert, in
this portion of which there is neither water, bird, nor tree, and where
the dazzling burning sand is whirled aloft in vast clouds, and driven
along with prodigious rapidity by the winds, they arrived in ten days
at the city of Abu Latin, the first inhabited place in the kingdom
of Sondan. Here our traveller was so exceedingly disgusted with the
character of the negroes, who exhibited unmitigated contempt for all
white people, that he at first resolved to return without completing
his design; but the travelling passion prevailed, he remained at Abu
Latin fifty days, studying the manners and customs of the inhabitants.
Contrary to the general rule, he found the women beautiful and the men
not jealous; the effect, in all probability, of unbounded corruption of
manners.

Proceeding thence to Mali, or Melli, and remaining there a short time,
being honourably received and presented with valuable gifts by the king,
he next departed for Timbuctoo, which at that time appears to have
been quite an inferior place, dependent on Mali. Returning thence by
the way of Sigilmāsa to Fez, in the year 1353, he there concluded his
wanderings, and in all probability employed the remainder of his life
in the composition of those travels of which we merely possess a meager
abridgment, the most complete copy of which was brought to England by
Mr. Burckhardt. The translation of this abridgment by Professor Lee,
useful as it is, must be rendered greatly more valuable by extending
the English, and rejecting the Arabic notes; and by the addition of an
index, which would facilitate the study of the work. How long Ibn Batūta
survived his return to his native country, and whether the travels were
his own work, are facts of which nothing is known.




LEO AFRICANUS.

Born about 1486.—Died about 1540.


The original name of this distinguished traveller was Al Hassan Ben
Mohammed Al Vazan, surnamed Fezzani, on account of his having studied and
passed the greater part of his youth at Fez. He was, however, a native of
the city of Granada in Spain, where he appears to have been born about
the year 1486 or 1487. When this city, the last stronghold of Islamism
in the Peninsula, was besieged by the Christians in 1491, the parents
of Leo, who were a branch of the noble family of Zaid, passed over into
Africa, taking their son, then a child, along with them, and established
themselves at Fez, the capital of the Mohammedan kingdom of the same
name. Fez, at this period the principal seat of Mohammedan learning
in Africa, was no less distinguished among the cities of Islamism for
the magnificence and splendour of its mosques, palaces, caravansaries,
and gardens; yet Leo, who already exhibited a vigorous and independent
character, preferred the tranquil and salubrious retreat of Habbed’s
Camp, a small place originally founded by a hermit, upon a mountain six
miles from the capital, and commanding a view both of the city and its
environs. Here he passed four delightful summers in study and retirement.

Having at the age of fourteen completed his studies, he became secretary
or registrar to a caravanserai, at a salary of three golden dinars per
month, and this office he filled during two years. At the expiration of
this period, about the year 1502, he accompanied his uncle on an embassy
from the King of Fez to the Sultan of Timbuctoo, and in that renowned
assemblage of hovels he remained four years. On his return from this
city, which he afterward visited at a more mature age, he made a short
stay at Tefza, the capital of a small independent territory in the empire
of Morocco. The city was large and flourishing; the people wealthy; but
divisions arising among them, several individuals of distinction were
driven into exile, who, repairing to the King of Fez, conjured him to
grant them a certain number of troops, in return for which they engaged
to reduce their native city, and place it in his hands. The troops
were granted—the city reduced—the chiefs of the popular party thrown
into prison. The business now being to extort from them the greatest
possible sum of money, they were informed, that unless they immediately
produced wherewith to defray the expenses of the expedition, they should
without delay be transported to Fez, where the king would not fail
to exact from them at least double the amount. Being aware into what
hands they were fallen, the chiefs consented, and desired their wives
and relatives to produce the money. The ladies of course obeyed; but in
order to make it appear that they had achieved the matter with the utmost
difficulty, and had in fact collected all they possessed in the world,
they included their rings, bracelets, and other ornaments and jewels,
the whole amounting to about twenty-eight thousand golden dinars. This
sum exceeding what had been demanded, there appeared to be no longer any
pretence for detaining the men in prison; but the general, imagining
that persons who possessed so much must infallibly possess more, could
not prevail upon himself to part with them so easily. Therefore, calling
together the prisoners, who were about forty-two in number, he informed
them in a tone of great commiseration that he had just received letters
from the king, peremptorily commanding him to put them all to death
without delay, and that of course he could not dare to disobey the orders
of his sovereign. At these words indescribable terror and consternation
seizing upon the prisoners, they wept bitterly, and in the poignancy of
their anguish conjured the chief to have mercy upon them. The worthy
soldier, who had apparently been educated at court, shed tears also, and
seemed to be overwhelmed with sorrow and perplexity. While they were in
this dilemma, a man who appeared to be totally new to the affair entered,
and upon hearing the whole state of the case, gave it as his opinion that
the severity of the king might be mitigated by a large sum of money.
The prisoners, who appeared to revive at these words, forgetting that,
according to their own account, the former mulct had exhausted all their
means, now offered immense sums in exchange for their lives, not only
to the king, but likewise to the general. This being the point aimed
at, their offer was of course accepted; and having paid eighty-four
thousand pieces of gold to the king, and rewarded the astute general with
a costly present of horses, slaves, and perfumes, the poor men were at
length liberated. Leo, who was present at this transaction, admires the
extraordinary ingenuity of mankind in extorting money; and observes that
some time after this his majesty of Fez extracted a still larger sum from
a single Jew.

The chronology of our traveller’s various expeditions it is difficult
if not impossible to determine; but he appears shortly after this
characteristic affair to have made an excursion into those vast plains,
or deserts, of Northern Africa, inhabited by the Bedouins, where he
amused himself with contemplating the rude character and manners of this
primitive people. His first attempt, however, to visit these wild tribes
was unsuccessful. Setting out from Fez, and traversing a mountainous
and woody country, abounding in fountains and rivulets, and extremely
fertile, he arrived at the foot of Mount Atlas, whose sides were covered
with vast forests, while its summits were capped with snow. The merchants
who cross this tremendous mountain with fruit from the date country
usually arrive about the end of October, but are often surprised in their
passage by snow-storms, which, in the course of a few hours, not only
bury both carriages and men, but even the trees, so that not a vestige of
them remains visible. When the sun melts the snow in the spring, then the
carriages and the bodies of the dead are found.

It was some time in the month of October that Leo arrived with a large
company of merchants at the ascent of Atlas, where they were overtaken
about sunset by a storm of blended snow and hail, accompanied by the
most piercing cold. As they were toiling upwards, they encountered a
small troop of Arab horsemen, who, inviting our traveller to descend
from his carriage and bear them company, promised to conduct him to an
agreeable and secure asylum. Though entertaining considerable doubts
of their intentions, he could not venture to refuse; but while he
accepted of their civility, he began to revolve in his mind the means
of concealing from them the wealth which he bore about his person. The
horsemen, however, were all mounted and impatient to be on the march;
he had, therefore, not a moment to lose, but pretending a pressing
necessity for stepping aside for an instant, he retreated behind a tree,
and deposited his money among a heap of stones at the foot of it. Then
carefully observing the spot, he returned to the Arabs, who immediately
began their journey. They travelled rapidly till about midnight without
uttering a word, battered by the storm and severely pinched by the cold;
when, having reached a spot proper for the purpose they had in view, they
stopped suddenly, and one of them, coming close up to our traveller,
demanded of him what wealth he had about him. He replied that he had
none, having intrusted one of his fellow-travellers with his money.
This the Arabs refused to believe, and, in order to satisfy themselves
upon the point, commanded him, without considering the bitterness of
the weather, to strip himself to the skin. When he had done so, and was
found to be as penniless as he was naked, they burst into a loud laugh,
pretending that what they had done was merely to ascertain whether he was
a hardy man or not, and could endure the biting of the cold and the fury
of the tempest. They now once more proceeded on their way, as swiftly as
the darkness of the night and the roughness of the weather would permit,
until they perceived by the bleating of sheep that they were approaching
the habitations of men. This sound serving them for a guide, they dashed
away through thick woods and over steep rocks, to the great hazard of
their necks; and at length arrived at an immense cavern, where they found
a number of shepherds, who, having driven in all their flocks, had
kindled a blazing fire, and were eagerly crowding round it on account of
the cold.

Observing that their visiters were Arabs, the shepherds were at first
greatly terrified; but being by degrees persuaded that they intended
them no harm, and merely demanded shelter from the inclemency of the
weather, they recovered their self-possession, and entertained them with
the most generous hospitality. After supper, the whole company stretched
themselves round the fire, and slept soundly until next morning. The
snow still continuing to fall, they remained two whole days in this wild
retreat; but on the third the weather clearing up, a passage was cut
through the snow, and merging into daylight they mounted their horses,
and descended towards the plains of Fez, the kindly shepherds acting as
their guides through the difficult passes of the mountains. They now
learned that the caravan with which Leo was travelling when encountered
by the Arabs, had been overwhelmed by the snow; so that no hope of
plunder being left, our traveller’s friendly preservers seized upon a Jew
with the design of extorting a large ransom from him; and borrowing Leo’s
horse in order to convey the Hebrew prize to their tents, they commended
its master to the mercy of fortune and the winds, and departed. Good
luck, or the charity of some benevolent hind, furnished our traveller
with a mule, upon which he made his way in three days to the capital.

Not being discouraged by this adventure, which, when safely concluded,
appeared rather romantic than unfortunate, he again bent his steps
towards the desert, and at length succeeded in his attempt to become the
guest of the children of Ishmael. Here he found himself surrounded by
that fierce and untameable people, who, having to their natural wildness
and ferocity added those qualities of perfidiousness and treachery which
the venom of the African soil appears to engender inevitably, might
be regarded as the most dangerous of all those barbarians among whom
civilized man could expose himself. Hunting the lion, taming the most
fiery coursers, in short, all violent exercises, and bloodshed, and war,
were their daily recreations. Nevertheless some traces of the milder
manners of Arabia remained. Poetry, adapting itself to the tastes of
these rude men, celebrated in songs burning with energy and enthusiasm
the prowess and exploits of their warriors, the beauty of their women,
the savage but sublime features of their country, or the antiquity and
glory of their race. Making their sword the purveyor of their desires,
they enjoyed whatever iron thus fashioned could purchase,—ample tents,
costly and magnificent garments, vessels of copper or of brass, with
abundance of silver and gold. In summer moving northward before the sun,
they poured down upon the cultivated country lying along the shores of
the Mediterranean, through a thousand mountain defiles, and collecting
both fruit and grain as they were ripened by its rays, watched the
retreat of the great luminary towards the southern tropic, and pursued
its fiery track across the desert.

Returning from this expedition without undergoing any particular
hardships, he shortly afterward passed into Morocco, where he remained
during several years, visiting its most celebrated cities, mountains, and
deserts, and carefully studying the manners of its inhabitants under all
their aspects. The first place of any note which he examined was Mount
Magran. Here, amid wild Alpine scenes, and peaks covered with eternal
snow, he found a people whose simple manners carried back his imagination
to the first ages of the world. In winter they had no fixed habitations,
but dwelt in large baskets, the sides of which were formed of the bark
of trees, and the roof of wicker-work. These they removed from place
to place on the backs of mules, stopping and dismounting their houses
wherever they met with pasture for their flocks. During the warm months,
however, they erected huts of larger dimensions, roofing them with
green boughs, and provender for their cattle being plentiful, remained
stationary. To defend their flocks and herds from the cold, which is
there always severe during the night, they kindled immense fires close to
their doors, which, emitting too great a flame when fanned by tempestuous
winds, sometimes caught their combustible dwellings, and endangered the
lives both of themselves and their cattle. They were likewise exposed
to the daily hazard of being devoured by lions or wolves, animals which
abound in that savage region.

From hence he proceeded to Mount Dedas, a lofty chain eighty miles
in length, covered with vast forests, and fertilized by a prodigious
number of fountains and rivulets. On the summit of this ridge were then
found the ruins of a very ancient city, on the white walls and solitary
monuments of which there existed numerous inscriptions, but couched in
a language and characters totally unknown to the inhabitants, some of
whom supposed it to have been built by the Romans, though no mention
of the place occurs in any African historian. The wretched race then
inhabiting the mountain dwelt in caverns, or in huts of stones rudely
piled upon each other. Their whole riches consisted in large droves of
asses and flocks of goats; barley bread with a little salt and milk was
their only food; and scarcely the half of their bodies were covered by
their miserable garments. Yet the caverns in which they and their goats
lay down promiscuously abounded in nitre, which in any civilized country
would have sufficed to raise them to a state of opulence. The manners of
these troglodytes were execrable. Living without hope and without God in
the world, they fearlessly perpetrated all manner of crimes, treachery,
thieving, open robbery, and murder. The women were still more ragged and
wretched than the men, and the traveller found it, upon the whole, the
most disagreeable place in all Africa.

As Leo did not make any regular tour of the country, but repaired now to
one place, now to another, as business or accident impelled him, we find
him to-day at one end of Morocco, and when the next date is given he is
at the opposite extremity. Nothing, therefore, is left the biographer but
to follow as nearly as possible the order of time. Towards the conclusion
of the year in which he crossed Mount Dedas in his way to Segelmessa, he
proceeded with Sheriff, a Moorish chief, in whose service he happened
to be, towards the western provinces of Morocco, and travelling with
a powerful escort, or rather with an army, had little or nothing to
fear from the most sanguinary and perfidious of the barbarian tribes.
One of the most remarkable places visited during this excursion was El
Eusugaghen, the “City of Murderers.” The mere description of the manners
of its inhabitants makes the blood run cold. The city, erected on the
summit of a lofty mountain, was surrounded by no gardens, and shaded by
no fruit-trees. Barley and oil were the only produce of the soil. The
poorer portion of the inhabitants went barefoot throughout the year,
the richer wore a rude species of mocassin, fabricated from the hide
of the camel or the ox. All their thoughts, all their desires tended
towards bloodshed and war, and so fierce were their struggles with their
neighbours, so terrible the slaughter, so unmitigated and unrelenting
their animosity, that, according to the forcible expression of the
traveller himself, they deserved rather to be called dogs than men. Nor
was their disposition towards each other more gentle. No man ventured to
step over the threshold of his own door into the street without carrying
a dagger or a spear in his hand: and as they did not appear inclined to
bear their weapons in vain, were restrained by no principles of religion
or justice, and were utterly insensible to pity, cries of “murder!” in
the street were frequent and startling.

This atrocious stronghold of murderers was situated in the district
over which Sheriff claimed the sovereignty, and his visit to the place
was undertaken in the hope of introducing something like law and
justice. The number of accusations of theft, robbery, and murder was
incredible; and dire was the dissension, the commotion, the noise which
everywhere prevailed. As Sheriff had brought with him neither lawyers nor
magistrates who might undertake to compose their differences, Leo, as a
man learned in the Koran, was earnestly conjured to fulfil this terrible
office. No sooner had he consented than two men rushed in before him,
accusing each other of the most abominable crimes, the one averring that
the other had murdered eight of his relations; and the latter, who by no
means denied the fact, asserting in reply that the former had murdered
_ten_ members of his family, and that, therefore, as the balance was in
his favour, he should, according to the custom of the country, be paid
a certain sum of money for the additional loss he had sustained. The
murderer of ten, on the other hand, argued that it was to him that the
price of blood should be paid, for that the persons whom he had slain
had suffered justly, since they had violently seized upon a farm which
belonged to him, and that he could in no other way gain possession of
his right; while his own relations had fallen the victims of the mere
atrocity of the other murderer. Such were the mutual accusations in which
the first day was consumed. The evening coming on, Leo and the chieftain
retired to rest; but in the dead of the night they were suddenly
awakened by terrific shouts and yells, and springing hastily from their
couches, and running to the window, they saw an immense crowd rushing
into the market-place, and fighting with so much fury and bloodshed,
that to have beheld them the most iron nature must have been shocked; so
that, dreading lest some plot or conspiracy might be hatching against
himself, the chieftain made his escape as rapidly as possible, taking the
traveller along with him.

From this den they proceeded towards the city of Teijent, and on the way
began to imagine that, according to the vulgar proverb, they had fallen
out of the fryingpan into the fire; for night coming upon them in a
solitary place, where neither village nor caravansary was nigh, Leo and
his companion, who happened to be separated from the chieftain’s army,
were compelled to take refuge in a small wooden house which had fallen
to decay on the road-side. It being extremely hot weather, they fastened
their horses to a post in the lower room, stopping up the gaps in the
enclosure with thorns and bushes, and then retreated to the house-top,
to enjoy as far as possible the freshness of the air. The night was
already far advanced, when two enormous lions, attracted by the scent
of the horses, approached the ruin, and threw them into the greatest
consternation; for the least violence would have shaken down their frail
tenement, and thrown them out into the lions’ mouths, and their horses,
maddened by fear, and shuddering at the terrible voice of the lions,
began to neigh and snort in the most furious manner. To increase their
fears, they heard the ferocious animals striving to tear away the briery
fence with which they had closed up the doors and openings in the wall,
and which they every moment dreaded might at length give way. In this
situation they passed the night; but when the dawn appeared, and light
began to infuse life into the cool landscape, the lions, feeling that
their hour was gone by, retreated to their dens in the forests, and left
the travellers to pursue their journey.

Having remained a short time at Teijent, he proceeded towards the
north-west through Tesegdeltum to Tagtessa, a city built upon the apex
of a conical hill, where he saw the earth covered by so prodigious a
cloud of locusts that they seemed to outnumber the blades of grass. From
this city he travelled to Eitdevet, where he refreshed himself after
his various toils by conversing with learned Jews and Ulemas on knotty
points of law, and by gazing on the women, whose plump round forms and
rich complexions delighted him exceedingly. To keep up the interest
of his journey, and diversify the scene a little, he was a few days
afterward fired at by the subject of an heretical chief, who inhabited a
mountain fortress, and amused himself with laying true believers under
contribution; but escaped the danger, and succeeded in reaching Tefetne,
a small city on the seashore. Here sufferings of a new kind awaited him.
Not from the people, for they were humane and friendly towards strangers;
but from certain dependants of theirs, whose assiduous attentions made
the three days which Leo spent among these good-natured people appear
to be so many ages. In short, notwithstanding that he was lodged in a
magnificent caravansary, he was nearly stung to death by fleas! The
cause of the extraordinary abundance of these active little animals at
Tefetne, though it seems never to have occurred to our curious traveller,
is discoverable in a circumstance which he accidentally mentions—_the
Portuguese traded to this city_. This likewise may account for another
little peculiarity which distinguished this part from the neighbouring
towns, though not greatly to its advantage: the stench, he tells us,
which diffused itself on all sides, and assaulted the nostrils night and
day, was so powerful that his senses were at length compelled to succumb,
and he retreated before the victorious odour.

In order somewhat to sweeten his imagination, he now struck off from the
seacoast, where the towns are generally infested by unpleasant smells, in
order to visit those wild tribes that inhabit the western extremity of
Mount Atlas. Here the scenery, sparkling through a peculiarly transparent
atmosphere, was rich, picturesque, and beautiful. Innumerable fountains,
shaded by lofty spreading trees, among which the walnut was conspicuous,
sprung forth from the bosom of the hills, and leaping down over rocks
and precipices amid luxuriant foliage, united in the sunny valleys,
and formed many cool and shining streams. This fertile region was well
stocked with inhabitants—farms and villas everywhere peeping from between
the trees, and refreshing the eye of the traveller. The inhabitants,
however, though clothed superbly, and glittering with rings and other
ornaments of gold and silver, were immersed in the grossest ignorance,
and addicted beyond credibility to every odious and revolting vice. From
thence, after a short stay, he returned towards the coast, and arrived at
Messa, a city surrounded by groves of palm-trees and richly-cultivated
fields, and situated about a mile distant from the sea, close to which
there was a mosque, the beams and rafters of which were formed of the
bones of whales. Here, according to the traditions of the place, the
prophet Jonah was cast on shore by the whale, when he attempted to escape
from the necessity of preaching repentance to the Ninevites; and it is
the opinion of the people, that if any of this species of fish attempt to
swim past this temple along the shore, he is immediately stricken dead
by some miraculous influence of the edifice, and cast up by the waves
upon the beach; and it is certain that many carcasses of these enormous
animals are annually found upon that part of the coast of Morocco, as
also large quantities of amber.

Proceeding along the shore, and examining whatever appeared deserving
of attention, he once more betook himself to the mountains, where,
among the rude and lawless tribes which inhabited them, he found a more
extraordinary system of manners, and stood a better chance of gratifying
his love of enterprise and adventure. Traversing the savage defiles of
Mount Nififa, whose inhabitants wholly employ themselves in the care of
goats and bees, he arrived at Mount Surede, where he became engaged in
a very whimsical scene. Cut off by their solitary and remote position
from frequent intercourse with the rest of the world, these thick-headed
mountaineers had no conception of law or civilization, no idea of which
ever entered their minds, except when some stranger, distinguished for
his good sense and modest manners, made his appearance among them. Still
they were not, like many of the neighbouring tribes, altogether destitute
of religion; and when Leo arrived, he was received and entertained
by a priest, who set before him the usual food of the inhabitants, a
little barley-meal boiled in water, and goat’s flesh, which might be
conjectured from its toughness to have belonged to some venerable example
of longevity. These savoury viands, which they ate squatted on their
haunches like monkeys, appear to have been so little to the taste of
Leo, that, in order to avoid the impiety of devouring such patriarchal
animals, he resolved to depart next morning at the peep of dawn; but
as he was preparing to mount his beast, about fifty of the inhabitants
crowded about him, and enumerating their grievances and wrongs, requested
him to judge between them. He replied, that he was totally ignorant of
their customs and manners. This, he was told, signified nothing. It was
the custom of the place, that whenever any stranger paid them a visit, he
was constrained before his departure to try and determine all the causes
which, like suits in the Court of Chancery, might have been accumulating
for half a century; and to convince him that they were in earnest,
and would hear of no refusal they forthwith took away his horse, and
requested him to commence operations. Seeing there was no remedy, he
submitted with as good a grace as possible; and during nine days and
nights had his ears perpetually stunned by accusations, pleadings,
excuses, and, what was still worse, was obliged daily to devour the flesh
of animals older than Islamism itself. On the evening of the eighth
day the natives, being greatly satisfied with his mode of distributing
justice, and desirous of encouraging him to complete his Herculean
labours, promised that on the next day he should receive a magnificent
reward; and as he hoped they meant to recompense him with a large sum
of money, the night which separated him from so great a piece of good
fortune seemed an age. The dawn, therefore, had no sooner appeared than
he was stirring; and the people, who were equally in earnest, requesting
him to place himself in the porch of the mosque, made a short speech
after their manner, which being finished, the presents were brought up
with the utmost respect. To his great horror, instead of the gold which
his fancy had been feeding upon, he saw his various clients approach,
one with a cock, another with a quantity of nuts, a third with onions;
while such as meant to be more magnificent brought him a goat. There was,
in fact, no money in the place. Not being able to remove his riches, he
left the goats and onions to his worthy host; and departed with a guard
of fifty soldiers, which his grateful clients bestowed upon him to defend
his person in the dangerous passes through which he had to travel.

From hence, still proceeding along the lofty mountainous ridge, whose
pinnacles are covered with eternal snow, he repaired to Mount Seusava, a
district inhabited by warlike tribes, who, though engaged in perpetual
hostilities with their neighbours, understood the use of no offensive
arms except the sling, from which, however, they threw stones with
singular force and precision. The food of these gallant emulators of
the ancient Rhodians consisted of barley-meal and honey, to which was
occasionally added a little goat’s flesh. The arts of peace, which
the warriors, perhaps, were too proud or too lazy to cultivate with
any degree of assiduity, were here exercised chiefly by Jews, who
manufactured very good earthenware, reaping-hooks, and horse-shoes. Their
houses were constructed of rough stones, piled upon each other without
cement. Nevertheless, a great number of learned men, whose advice was
invariably taken and followed by the natives, was found here, among
whom Leo met with several who had formerly been his fellow-students at
Fez, and now not only received him with kindness and hospitality, but,
moreover, accompanied him on his departure to a considerable distance
from the mountain.

He now peacefully pursued his journey; and after witnessing the
various phenomena of these mountain regions, where the date-tree and
the avalanche, the fir and the orange-tree are near neighbours, again
descended into the plainer and more cultivated portion of Morocco,
and after numerous petty adventures, not altogether unworthy of being
recorded, but yet too numerous to find a place here, arrived at
Buluchuan, a small city upon the river Ommirabih. Here travellers were
usually received and entertained with distinguished hospitality, not
being allowed to spend any thing during their stay, while splendid
caravansaries were erected for their reception, and the citizens, whose
munificence was not inferior to their riches, vied with each other in
their attentions and civilities. At the period of Leo’s visit, however,
the city was in a state of the utmost disorder. The King of Fez had sent
his brother with orders to take possession of the whole province of
Duccala; but on his arrival at this city, news was brought him that the
Prince of Azemore was even then upon his march towards the place with
a numerous army, with the intention of demolishing the fortifications,
and carrying away the inhabitants into captivity. Upon receiving
this information, two thousand horse and eight hundred archers were
immediately thrown into Buluchuan; but at the same time arrived a number
of Portuguese soldiers, and two thousand Arabs; the latter of whom, first
attacking the Fezzians, easily routed them, and put the greater number
of the archers to the sword; then turning upon the Portuguese, they cut
off a considerable number of their cavalry, and quickly put them also to
the rout. Shortly after this, the brother of the King of Fez arrived,
and upon undertaking to protect the inhabitants from all enemies to the
latest day of his life, received the tribute which he demanded; but being
worsted in battle, quickly returned to Fez. The people now perceiving
that, notwithstanding the promised protection of the Fezzan king, they
were still exposed to all the calamities of war, and feeling themselves
unequal to contend unassisted with their numerous enemies, and more
particularly dreading the avarice of the Portuguese, deserted their city
and their homes, and took refuge upon the promontory of Tedla. Leo, who
was present during these transactions, and witnessed the slaughter of the
archers, mounted on a swift charger, and keeping at a short distance from
the scene of carnage upon the plain, had been delegated by the monarch of
Fez to announce the speedy arrival of his brother with his forces.

Some time after this, the King of Fez, once more resolving upon the
reduction of the province, arrived in Duccala with an army, bringing Leo,
who had now risen to considerable distinction at court, along with him.
Arriving at the foot of an eminence of considerable height, denominated
by our traveller the Green Mountain, and which divides Duccala from the
province of Tedla, the monarch, charmed by the beauties of the place,
commanded his tents to be pitched, resolving to spend a few days in
pleasure at that calm and delightful solitude. The mountain itself is
rugged, and well clothed with woods of oak and pine. Among these, remote
from all human intercourse, are the dwellings of numerous hermits, who
subsist upon such wild productions of the earth as the place supplies;
and here and there scattered among the rocks were great numbers of
Mohammedan altars, fountains of water, and ruins of ancient edifices.
Near the base of the mountain there was an extensive lake, resembling
that of Volsinia in Italy, swarming with prodigious numbers of eels,
pikes, and other species of fish, some of which are unknown in Europe.
Mohammed, the Fezzan king, now gave orders for a general attack upon the
fish of the lake. In a moment, turbans, vests, and nether garments, the
sleeves and legs being tied at one end, were transformed into nets, and
lowered into the water; and before their owners could look round them
pikes were struggling and eels winding about in their capacious breeches.
Meanwhile, nineteen thousand horses, and a vast number of camels, plunged
into the lake to drink, so that, says Leo, by a certain figure of speech
not at all uncommon among travellers, there was scarcely any water left;
and the fish were stranded, as it were, in their own dwellings. The sport
was continued for eight days; when, being tired of fishing, Mohammed gave
orders to explore the recesses of the mountain. The borders of the lake
were covered by extensive groves of a species of pine-tree, in which an
incredible number of turtle-doves had built their nests; and these, like
the fishes of the lake, became the prey of the army. Passing through
these groves, the prince and all his troops ascended the mountain. Leo
the while keeping close to his majesty among the doctors and courtiers;
and as often as they passed by any little chapel, Mohammed, keeping in
sight of the whole army, addressed his prayers to the Almighty, calling
Heaven to witness that his only motive in coming to Duccala was to
deliver it from the tyranny of the Christians and Arabs. Returning in the
evening to their tents, they next day proceeded with hounds and falcons,
of which the king possessed great numbers, to hunt the wild duck, the
wild goose, the turtle-dove, and various other species of birds. Their
next expedition was against higher game, such as the hare, the stag,
the fallow-deer, the porcupine, and the wolf, and in this kind of chase
eagles and falcons were employed as well as dogs; and as no person had
beaten up those fields for more than a hundred years, the quantity of
game was prodigious. After amusing himself for several days in this
manner, the prince, attended by his court and army, returned to Fez,
while Leo, with a small body of troops, was despatched upon an embassy to
the Emperor of Morocco.

On returning from Morocco, after being hospitably entertained at El
Medina, Tagodastum, Bzo, and other cities, he visited the dwelling of
a mountain prince, with whom he spent several days in conversations
on poetry and literature. Though immoderately greedy of praise, his
gentleness, politeness, and liberality rendered him every way worthy of
it; and if he did not understand Arabic, he at least delighted to have
its beauties explained to him, and highly honoured and valued those
who were learned in this copious and energetic language. Our traveller
had visited this generous chieftain several years before. Coming well
furnished with presents, among which was a volume of poetry containing
the praises of celebrated men, and of the prince himself among the rest,
he was magnificently received; the more particularly as he himself had
composed upon the way a small poem on the same agreeable subject, which
he recited to the prince after supper.

The date of our traveller’s various excursions through the kingdom of
Fez is unknown, but he apparently, like many other travellers, visited
foreign countries before he had examined his own, and I have therefore
placed his adventures in Morocco before those which occurred to him
at home. In an excursion to the seacoast he passed through Anfa, an
extensive city founded by the Romans, on the margin of the ocean, and
in a position so salubrious and agreeable that, taking into account the
generous character and polished manners of the inhabitants, it might
justly be considered the most delightful place in all Africa. From hence
he proceeded through Mansora and Nuchailu to Rabat, once a vast and
splendid city, abounding with palaces, caravansaries, baths, and gardens,
but now, by wars and civil dissensions, reduced to a heap of ruins,
rendered doubly melancholy by the figures of a few wretched inhabitants
who still clung to the spot, and flitted about like spectres among the
dilapidated edifices. The scene, compared with that which the city once
presented, was so generative of sad thought, that on beholding it our
traveller sank into a sombre revery which ended in tears. From this place
he proceeded northward, and passing through many cities, arrived at a
small town called Thajiah, in whose vicinity was the ancient tomb of a
saint, upon which, according to the traditions of the country, a long
catalogue of miracles had been performed, numerous individuals having
been preserved by this tomb, but in what manner is not specified, from
the jaws of lions and other ferocious beasts. The scene is rugged, the
ground steril, the climate severe; yet so high was the veneration in
which the sanctity of the tomb was held, that incredible numbers of
pilgrims resorted thither in consequence of vows made in situations of
imminent danger, and encamping round the holy spot, had the appearance
of an army bivouacking in the wood.

In the year 1513, having seen whatever he judged most worthy of notice
in Morocco and Fez, and still considering his travels as only begun,
he once more left home, and proceeded eastward along the shores of the
Mediterranean towards Telemsan and Algiers. Upon entering the former
kingdom he abandoned the seacoast, and striking off towards the right,
through mountainous ridges of moderate elevation, entered the wild and
desolate region called the Desert of Angad, where, amid scanty herds
of antelopes, wild goats, and ostriches, the lonely Bedouin wanders,
his hand being against every man, and every man’s hand against him.
Through this desolate tract the merchant bound from Telemsan to Fez
winds his perilous way, dreading the sand-storm, the simoom, the lion,
and other physical ministers of death, less than the fierce passions of
its gloomy possessors, stung to madness by hunger and suffering. Leo,
however, traversed this long waste without accident or adventure, and his
curiosity being satisfied, returned to the inhabited part of the country,
where, if there was less call for romantic and chivalrous daring, there
was at all events more pleasure to be enjoyed, and more knowledge to
be acquired. Passing through various small places little noticed by
modern geographers, he at length arrived at Hunain, an inconsiderable
but handsome city, on the Mediterranean, surrounded by a well-built
wall, flanked with towers. Hither the Venetians, excluded from Oran by
the Spaniards, who were then masters of that port, brought all the rich
merchandise which they annually poured into Telemsan, in consequence
of which chiefly the merchants of Hunain had grown rich; and taste and
more elegant manners following, as usual, in the train of Plutus, the
city was embellished, and the comfort of the inhabitants increased. The
houses, constructed in an airy and tasteful style, with verandahs shaded
by clustering vines, fountains, and floors exquisitely ornamented with
mosaics, were, perhaps, the most agreeable dwellings in Northern Africa;
but the inconstant tide of commerce having found other channels, the
prosperity of Hunain had already begun to decline.

From hence he proceeded through the ancient Haresgol to the capital, an
extensive city, which, though inferior in size and magnificence to Fez,
was nevertheless adorned with numerous baths, fountains, caravansaries,
and mosques. The prince’s palace, situated in the southern quarter of
the city, and opening on one side into the plain, was surrounded by
delightful gardens, in which a great number of fountains kept up a
perpetual coolness in the air. Issuing forth from the city he observed
on all sides numerous villas, to which the wealthier citizens retired
during the heats of summer; and in the midst of meadows, sprinkled thick
with flowers, whole groves of fruit-trees, such as the orange, the peach,
and the date, and at their feet a profusion of melons and other similar
fruit, the whole forming a landscape of surpassing beauty. The literary
men, the ulemas, the notaries, and the Jews of Telemsan inhabited an
elegant suburb, situated on a hill at a short distance from the city;
and these, as well as all other ranks of men, lead a tranquil and secure
life, under the government of a just and beneficent prince. Here Leo
remained several months as the king’s guest, living sumptuously in the
palace, and otherwise experiencing the liberality of his host.

On his departure from Telemsan he entered the country of the Beni Rasid,
a tribe of Arabs living under the protection of the King of Telemsan,
and paying him tribute, yet caring little for his authority, and robbing
his guests and servants without compunction, as Leo, on this occasion,
learned to his cost. These rude people were divided into two classes,
the mountaineers and the dwellers on the plain, the latter of whom were
shepherds, living in tents, and feeding immense droves of camels and
cattle, according to the primitive custom of the Bedouins; while the
former, who had erected themselves houses and villages, were addicted to
agriculture, and other useful arts.

Still proceeding towards the east, he arrived at the large and opulent
town of Batha, which had been but recently erected, in a plain of great
extent and fertility; and as, like Jonah’s gourd, it had sprung up, as
it were, in a night, it soon felt the hot rays of war, and perished
as rapidly. The whole plain had been destitute of inhabitants until a
certain man, whom Leo denominates a hermit, but who in ancient Greece
would have been justly dignified with the name of sage, settled there
with his family. The fame of his piety quickly spread. His flocks and
herds increased rapidly. He paid no tribute to any one; but, on the
contrary, as the circle of his reputation enlarged, gradually embracing
the whole of the surrounding districts, and extending over the whole
Mohammedan world, both in Africa and Asia, presents, which might be
regarded as a tribute paid to virtue, flowed in upon him from all sides,
and rendered him the wealthiest man in the country. His conduct quickly
showed that he deserved his prosperity. Five hundred young men, desirous
of being instructed by him in the ways of religion and morality, flocked
to his camp, as it were became his disciples, and were entertained and
taught by him gratis. When they considered themselves sufficiently
informed, they returned to their homes, carrying with them a high idea
of his wisdom and disinterestedness. Our traveller found on his arrival
about one hundred tents clustered together upon the plain, of which some
were destined for the reception of strangers, others for the shepherds,
and others for the family of the chieftain, which, including his own
wives and female slaves, all of whom were superbly dressed, amounted
to at least five hundred persons. This man was held in the highest
estimation, as well by the Arab tribes in the neighbourhood, as by the
King of Telemsan; and it was the reports which were everywhere spread
concerning his virtues and his piety that induced Leo to pay him a visit.
The behaviour of the chieftain towards his guest, who remained with him
three days, and in all probability might have staid as many months had
he thought proper, was not such as to detract from the idea which the
voice of fame had everywhere circulated of him. However, his learning was
deeply tinctured with the superstitions of the times, consisting for the
most part of an acquaintance with that crabbed and abstruse jargon in
which the mysteries of magic and alchymy were wrapped up from the vulgar,
whose chief merit lying in its extreme difficulty, deluded men into the
pursuit of it, as the meteors of a marsh lead the night-wanderer over
fens and morasses.

Leaving the camp of the alchymist, our traveller proceeded to Algiers,
where the famous Barbarossa then exercised sovereign power. This city,
originally built by the native Africans, was at first called Mesgana,
from the name of its founder; but afterward, for some reason not now
discoverable, it obtained the appellation of _Geseir_, or the “island,”
which European nations have corrupted into Algiers. Its population in
the time of Leo was four thousand families, which, considering how
families are composed in Mohammedan countries, would at least amount
to sixty thousand souls. The public edifices were large and sumptuous,
particularly the baths, khans, and mosques, which were built in the
most tasteful and striking manner. The northern wall of the city was
washed by the sea, and along the top of it ran a fine terrace or public
promenade, whence the inhabitants might enjoy the prospect of the blue
waves, skimmed by milk-white water-fowl, or studded by innumerable ships
and galleys, perpetually entering or issuing from the port. The houses,
rising one behind another, in rows, upon the side of a lofty hill, all
enjoyed the cool breeze blowing from the Mediterranean, as well as the
pleasing view of its waters. A small river which ran at the eastern
extremity of the city turned numerous mills, and furnished the city with
abundance of pure limpid water; and the vicinity, for several miles
round, was covered with delightful gardens, and corn-fields of prodigious
fertility. Here our traveller remained some time, and it being an
interesting period, the struggles between the Turks and Spaniards having
now approached their close, and the star of Barbarossa rising rapidly,
he no doubt enjoyed the triumph of Islamism, and the humiliation of the
power by which, while an infant, he had been driven from his home. His
host during his stay was a learned and curious person, who had previously
been sent on an embassy into Spain, from whence, with patriotic zeal, he
had brought three thousand Arabian manuscripts.

From Algiers Leo proceeded to Bugia, where he found Barbarossa, whose
active genius would admit of no relaxation or repose, laying siege to the
fortress; before he had advanced many leagues towards the east, however,
he heard the news of the death of this redoubted chief, who, being cut
off at Telemsan, was succeeded in the sovereignty of Algiers by his
brother Kairaddin. It was at this time that the Emperor Charles V. turned
his victorious arms against Algiers, where, meeting with a severe check
from Barbarossa, part of his chivalry falling on the plain and part being
taken, his pride was humbled and his glory tarnished by the intrepid
valour of a troop of banditti. Proceeding eastward from Bugia through
many towns of inferior note, yet in many instances bearing marks of a
Roman origin, he arrived in a few days at Kosantina, a city undoubtedly
founded by the Romans, and at that period surrounded by strong walls
of black hewn stone, erected by the founders. It was situated upon the
southern slope of a lofty mountain, hemmed round by tremendous rocks,
between which, through a deep and narrow channel, the river Sufegmare
wound round a great portion of the city, forming, as far as it went, a
natural ditch. Two gates only, the one opening towards the rising, the
other towards the setting sun, lead into the place; on the other sides
enormous bastions or inaccessible precipices prohibit all approach to
the city, which at that period was extremely populous, and adorned with
magnificent public buildings, such as monasteries, colleges, and mosques.
The inhabitants, who were a warlike and polished people, carried on an
extensive trade in oil and silk with the Moors of the interior, receiving
in return slaves and dates, the latter of which Leo here found cheaper
and more plentiful than in any other part of Barbary.

The plain of Kosantina was intersected by a river, and of immense
fertility. Upon this plain numerous structures in an ancient style of
architecture were scattered about, and excellent gardens were planted
on both sides of the stream, to which you descended by steps cut in the
solid rock. Between the city and the river is a Roman triumphal arch,
supposed by the inhabitants to have been an ancient castle, which, as
they affirm, afforded a retreat to innumerable demons, previous to
the Mussulman conquest of the city, when, from respect to the true
believers, they took their departure. In the midst of the stream a very
extraordinary edifice was seen. Pillars, walls, and roof were hewn out
of the rock; but, notwithstanding the singularity of its construction,
it was put to no better use than to shelter the washerwomen of the city.
A very remarkable warm bath, likewise, was found in the vicinity of
Kosantina, around which, attracted by some peculiarity in the soil,
innumerable tortoises were seen, which the women of the place believed to
be demons in disguise, and accused of causing all the fevers and other
diseases by which they might be attacked. A little farther towards the
east, close to a fountain of singular coldness, was a marble structure
adorned with hieroglyphics and enriched with statues, which in the eyes
of the natives were so close a resemblance to life that, to account for
the phenomenon, they invented a legend, according to which this building
was formerly a school, both masters and pupils of which were turned into
marble for their wickedness.

In his way from Kosantina to Tunis, he passed by two cities, or rather
names of cities, the one immortalized by the prowess and enterprise of
its children, the other by the casual mention of the loftiest of modern
poets; I mean Carthage and Biserta. The former fills all ancient history
with its glory; but the reader would probably never have heard of the
latter but that its name is found in Paradise Lost:—

    And all who since, baptized or infidel,
    Jousted in Aspramont or Montalban,
    Damasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond,
    Or whom _Biserta_ sent from Africk shore,
    When Charlemagne with all his peerage fell
    By Fontarabia.

Carthage, though fallen to the lowest depths of misery, still contained
a small number of inhabitants, who concealed their wretchedness amid the
ruins of triumphal arches, aqueducts, and fortifications. Proceeding
westward from Tunis as far as the desert of Barca, and visiting all the
principal towns, whether in the mountains or the plains, without meeting
with any personal adventures which he thought worthy of describing, he
returned to Fez, and prepared for his second journey to Timbuctoo and the
other interior states of Africa.

Crossing Mount Atlas, and proceeding directly towards the south, he
entered the province of Segelmessa, extending from the town of Garselvin
to the river Ziz, a length of about one hundred and twenty miles. Here
commences that scarcity of water which is the curse of this part of
Africa. Few or no inequalities in the surface of the ground, scanty
traces of cultivation, human habitations occurring at wide intervals,
and, in short, nothing to break the dreary uniformity of the scene but
a few scattered date-palms waving their fanlike leaves over the brown
desert, where at every step the foot was in danger of alighting upon a
scorpion resting in the warm sand. The few streams which creep in winter
over this miserable waste shrink away and disappear before the scorching
rays of the summer sun, which penetrate the soil to a great depth, and
pump up every particle of moisture as far as they reach. Nothing then
remains to the inhabitants but a brackish kind of water, which they
obtain from wells sunk extremely deep in the earth. Near the capital of
this province, which is surrounded by strong walls, and said to have been
founded by the Romans, Leo spent seven months; and except that the air
was somewhat too humid in winter, found the place both salubrious and
agreeable.

As he advanced farther into the desert, he daily became more and more
of Pindar’s opinion, that of all the elements water is the best,—the
wells becoming fewer, and their produce more scanty. Many of these
pits are lined round with the skins and bones of camels, in order to
prevent the water from being absorbed by the sand, or choked up when the
winds arise, and drive the finer particles in burning clouds over the
desert. When this happens, however, nothing but certain death awaits the
traveller, who is continually reminded of the fate which awaits him by
observing scattered around upon the sand the bones of his predecessors,
or their more recent bodies withered up and blackening in the sun. The
well-known resource of killing a camel for the water contained in his
stomach is frequently resorted to, and sometimes preserves the lives
of the merchants. In crossing this tremendous scene of desolation, Leo
discovered two marble monuments, when or by whom erected he could not
learn, upon which was an epitaph recording the manner in which those who
slept beneath had met their doom. The one was an exceedingly opulent
merchant, the other a person whose business it was to furnish caravans
with water and provisions. On their arriving at this spot, scorched by
the sun, and their entrails tortured by the most excruciating thirst,
there remained but a very small quantity of water between them. The
rich man, whose thirst now made him regard his gold as dirt, purchased
a single cup of this celestial nectar for ten thousand ducats; but that
which might possibly have saved the life of one of them being divided
between both, only served to prolong their sufferings for a moment, as
they here sunk into that sleep from which there is no waking upon earth.

Yet, strange as it may appear, this inhospitable desert is overrun by
numerous animals, which, therefore, must either be endued by nature with
the power of resisting thirst, or with the instinct to discover springs
of water where man fails. Our traveller was very near participating the
fate of the merchant above commemorated. Day after day they toiled along
the sands without being able to discover one drop of water on their way;
so that the small quantity they had brought with them, which was barely
sufficient for five days, was compelled to serve them for ten. Twelve
miles south of Segelmessa they reached a small castle built in the desert
by the Arabs, but found there nothing but heaps of sand and black stones.
A few orange or lemon-trees blooming in the waste were the only signs
of vegetation which met their eyes until they arrived at Tebelbelt,
or Tebelbert, one hundred miles south of Segelmessa, a city thickly
inhabited, abounding in water and dates. Here the inhabitants employ
themselves greatly in hunting the ostrich, the flesh of which is among
them an important article of food.

They now proceeded through a country utterly desolate, where a house or a
well of water was not met with above once in a hundred miles, reckoning
from the well of Asanad to that of Arsan, about one hundred and fifty
miles north of Timbuctoo. In the first part of this journey, through what
is called the desert of Zuensiga, numerous bodies of men who had died of
thirst on their way were found lying along the sand, and not a single
well of water was met with during nine days. It were to be wished that
Leo had entered a little more minutely into the description of this part
of his travels, but he dismisses it with the remark that it would have
taken up a whole year to give a full account of what he saw. However,
after a toilsome and dangerous journey, the attempt to achieve which has
cost so many European lives, he reached Timbuctoo for the second time,
the name of the reigning chief or prince being Abubellr Izchia.

The city of Timbuctoo, the name of which was first given to the kingdom
of which it was the capital only about Leo’s time, is said to have been
founded in the 610th year of the Hejira, by a certain Meusa Suleyman,
about twelve miles from a small arm or branch of the Niger. The houses
originally erected here had now dwindled into small huts built with
chalk and thatched with straw; but there yet remained a mosque built
with stone in an elegant style of architecture, and a palace for which
the sovereigns of Central Africa were indebted to the skill of a native
of Granada. However, the number of artificers, merchants, and cloth
and cotton weavers, who had all their shops in the city, was very
considerable. Large quantities of cloth were likewise conveyed thither
by the merchants of Barbary. The upper class of women wore veils, but
servants, market-women, and others of that description exposed their
faces. The citizens were generally very rich, and merchants were so
highly esteemed, that the king thought it no derogation to his dignity
to give his two daughters in marriage to two men of this rank. Wells
were here numerous, the water of which was extremely sweet; and during
the inundation, the water of the Niger was introduced into the city by
a great number of aqueducts. The country was rich in corn, cattle, and
butter; but salt, which was brought from the distance of five hundred
miles, was so scarce, that Leo saw one camel-load sold while he was
there for eighty pieces of gold. The king was exceedingly rich for those
times, and kept up a splendid court. Whenever he went abroad, whether
for pleasure or to war, he always rode upon a camel, which some of the
principal nobles of his court led by the bridle. His guard consisted
entirely of cavalry. When any of his subjects had occasion to address
him, he approached the royal presence in the most abject manner, then,
falling prostrate on the ground, and sprinkling dust upon his head and
shoulders, explained his business; and in this manner even strangers
and the ambassadors of foreign princes were compelled to appear before
him. His wars were conducted in the most atrocious manner; poisoned
arrows being used, and such as escaped those deadly weapons and were
made prisoners were sold for slaves in the capital; even such of his
own subjects as failed to pay their tribute being treated in the same
manner. Horses were extremely rare. The merchants and courtiers made
use of little ponies when travelling, the noble animals brought thither
from Barbary being chiefly purchased by the king, who generally paid a
great price for them. Leo seems to have been astonished at finding no
Jews at Timbuctoo; but his majesty was so fierce an enemy to the Hebrew
race, that he not only banished them his dominions, but made it a crime
punishable with confiscation of property to have any commerce with them.
Timbuctoo at this period contained a great number of judges, doctors,
priests, and learned men, all of whom were liberally provided for by the
prince; and an immense number of manuscripts were annually imported from
Barbary, the trade in books being, in fact, the most lucrative branch
of commerce. Their gold money, the only kind coined in the country, was
without image or superscription; but those small shells, still current
on the Coromandel and Malabar coasts, and in the islands of the Indian
Ocean, under the name of _cowries_, were used in small transactions,
four hundred of them being equivalent to a piece of gold. Of these gold
pieces, six and two-thirds weighed an ounce. The inhabitants, a mild and
gentle race, spent a large portion of their time in singing, dancing,
and festivities, which they were enabled to do by the great number of
slaves of both sexes which they maintained. The city was extremely liable
to conflagrations, almost one-half of the houses having been burnt down
between the first and second visits of our traveller,—a space of not more
than eleven or twelve years. Neither gardens nor fruit-trees adorned the
environs.

This account of the state of Timbuctoo in the beginning of the sixteenth
century I have introduced, that the reader might be able to compare it
with the modern descriptions of Major Laing and Caillé, and thus discover
the amount of the progress which the Mohammedans of Central Africa have
made towards civilization. I suspect, however, that whatever may now be
the price of salt, the book trade has not increased; and that whether the
natives dance more or less than formerly, they are neither so gentle in
their manners nor so wealthy in their possessions.

From Timbuctoo Leo proceeded to the town of Cabra on the Niger, which
was then supposed to discharge its waters into the Atlantic; for the
merchants going to the coast of Guinea embarked upon the river at this
place, whence they dropped down the stream to the seashore. Still
travelling southward, he arrived at a large city without walls, which he
calls Gajo, four hundred miles from Timbuctoo. Excepting the dwellings of
the prince and his courtiers, the houses were mere huts, though many of
the merchants are said to have been wealthy, while an immense concourse
of Moors and other strangers flocked thither to purchase the cloths and
other merchandise of Barbary and Europe. The inhabitants of the villages
and the shepherds, by far the greater portion of the population, lived in
extreme misery, and, poverty extinguishing all sense of decorum, went so
nearly naked, that even the distinctions of sex were scarcely concealed.
In winter they wrapped themselves in the skins of animals, and wore a
rude kind of sandal manufactured from camel’s hide.

This was the term of Leo’s travels towards the south. He now turned his
face towards the rising sun, and proceeding three hundred miles in that
direction, amid the dusky and barbarous tribes who crouch beneath the
weight of tyranny and ignorance in that part of Africa, arrived in the
kingdom of Guber, having on the way crossed a desert of considerable
extent, which commences about forty miles beyond the Niger. The whole
country was a plain, inundated in the rainy season by the Niger, and
surrounded by lofty mountains. Agriculture and the useful arts were here
cultivated with activity. Flocks and cattle abounded, but their size
was extremely diminutive. The sandal worn by the inhabitants exactly
resembled that of the ancient Romans. From hence he proceeded to Agad,
a city and country tributary to Timbuctoo, inhabited by the fairest
negroes of all Africa. The inhabitants of the towns possessed excellent
houses, constructed after the manner of those of Barbary; but the
peasants and shepherds of the south were nomadic hordes, living, like
the Carir of the Deccan, in large baskets, or portable wicker huts. He
next arrived at Kanoo, five hundred miles east of the Niger, a country
inhabited by tribes of farmers and herdsmen, and abounding in corn,
rice, and cotton. Among the cultivated fields many deserts, however,
and wood-covered mountains were interspersed. In these woods the orange
and the lemon were found in great plenty. The houses of the town of
Kanoo, like those of Timbuctoo, were built of chalk. Proceeding eastward
through a country infested by gipsies, occasionally turning aside to
visit more obscure regions, he at length arrived at Bornou, a kingdom of
great extent, bounded on the north and south by deserts, on the west by
Gnagera, and on the east by an immense country, denominated Gaoga by Leo,
but known at present by the various names of Kanem, Begharmi, Dar Saley,
Darfur, and Kordofan.

The scenery and produce of Bornou were exceedingly various. Mountains,
valleys, plains, and deserts alternating with each other composed a
prospect of striking aspect; and the population, consisting of wild
soldiers, merchants, artisans, farmers, herdsmen, and shepherds, some
glittering with arms, or wrapped in ample drapery, others nearly as naked
as when they left the womb, appeared no less picturesque or strange.
Leo’s stay in this country was short, and the persons from whom he
acquired his information must have been either ignorant or credulous;
for, according to them, no vestige of religion existed among the people
(which is not true of any nation on earth), while the women and children
were possessed by all men in common. Proper names were not in use.
When persons spoke of their neighbours, they designated them from some
corporeal or mental quality, as tallness, fatness, acuteness, bravery,
or stupidity. The chief’s revenue consisted of the tenth of the produce
of the soil, and of such captives and spoil as he could take in war.
Slaves were here so plentiful, and horses so scarce, that twenty men were
sometimes given in exchange for one of those animals. The prince then
reigning, a narrow-minded and avaricious man, had contrived by various
means to amass immense riches; his bits, his spurs, his cups, and vases
were all of gold; but whenever he purchased any article from a foreign
merchant, he preferred paying with slaves rather than with money.

From Bornou he proceeded through Gaoga towards Nubia, and approached
those regions of the Nile where, amid poverty and barbarism, the
civilization of the old world has left so many indestructible traces of
the gigantic ideas which throw their shadows over the human imagination
in the dawn of time. Coming up to the banks of the mysterious river,
around the sources of which curiosity has so long flitted in vain, he
found the stream so shallow in many places that it could be easily
forded; but whether on account of its immense spread in those parts,
or the paucity of water, he does not inform us. Dongola, or Dangala,
the capital, though consisting of mere chalk huts thatched with straw,
contained at that period no less than one hundred and fifty thousand
inhabitants. The people, who were rich and enterprising, held knowledge
in the highest esteem. No other city, however, existed in the country;
the remainder of the population, chiefly or wholly occupied in the
culture of the soil, living in scattered villages or hamlets. Grain
was extremely plentiful, as was also the sugarcane, though its use and
value were unknown; and immense quantities of ivory and sandal-wood
were exported. However, at this period, the most remarkable produce of
Nubia was a species of violent poison, the effect of which was little
less rapid than that of prussic acid, since the tenth part of a grain
would prove mortal to a man in a few minutes, while a grain would cause
instantaneous death. The price of an ounce of this deleterious drug,
the nature of which is totally unknown, was one hundred pieces of gold;
but it was sold to foreigners only, who, when they purchased it, were
compelled to make oath that no use should be made of it in Nubia. A sum
equal to the price of the article was paid to the sovereign, and to
dispose of the smallest quantity without his knowledge was death, if
discovered; but whether the motive to this severity was fiscal or moral
is not stated. The Nubians were engaged in perpetual hostilities with
their neighbours, their principal enemy being a certain Ethiopian nation,
whose sovereign, according to Leo, was that Prester John so famous in
that and the succeeding ages; a despicable and wretched race, speaking
an unknown jargon, and subsisting upon the milk and flesh of camels, and
such wild animals as their deserts produced. Leo, however, evidently saw
but little of Nubia; for though by no means likely to have passed such
things over without notice had they been known to him, he never once
alludes to the ruins of Meloë, the temples and pyramids of Mount Barkal,
or those enormous statues, obelisks, and other monuments which mark the
track of ancient civilization down the course of the Nile, and present to
the eye of the traveller one of the earliest cradles of our race.

From this country he proceeded to Egypt, and paused a moment on his
journey to contemplate the ruins of Thebes, a city, the founding of
which some of his countrymen attributed to the Greeks, others to the
Romans. Some fourteen or fifteen hundred peasants were found creeping
like pismires at the foot of the gigantic monuments of antiquity. They
ate good dates, grapes, and rice, however, and the women, who were lovely
and well-formed, rejoiced the streets with their gayety. At Cairo,
where he seems to have made a considerable stay, he saw many strange
things, all of which he describes with that conciseness and _naïveté_ for
which most of our older travellers are distinguished. Walking one day
by the door of a public bath, in the market-place of Bain Elcasraim, he
observed a lady of distinction, and remarkable for her beauty, walking
out into the streets, which she had no sooner done than she was seized
and violated before the whole market by one of those naked saints who
are so numerous in Egypt and the other parts of Africa. The magistrates
of the city, who felt that their own wives might next be insulted, were
desirous of inflicting condign punishment upon the wretch, but were
deterred by fear of the populace, who held such audacious impostors in
veneration. On her way home after this scene, the woman was followed by
an immense multitude, who contended with each other for the honour of
touching her clothes, as if some peculiar virtue had been communicated to
them by the touch of the saint; and even her husband, when informed of
what had happened, expressed the greatest joy, and thanking God as if an
extraordinary blessing had been conferred upon his family, made a great
entertainment and distributed alms to the poor, who were thus taught to
look upon such events as highly fortunate.

Upon another occasion Leo, returning from a celebrated mosque in one
of the suburbs, beheld another curious scene no less characteristic
of the manners of the times. In the area before a palace erected by a
Mameluke sultan, an immense populace was assembled, in the midst of whom
a troop of strolling players, with dancing camels, asses, and dogs, were
exhibiting their tricks, to the great entertainment of the mob, and even
of our traveller himself, who thought it a very pleasant spectacle.
Having first exhibited his own skill, the principal actor turned round
to the ass, and muttering certain words, the animal fell to the ground,
turning up his feet, swelling and closing his eyes as if at the last
gasp. When he appeared to be completely dead, his master, turning round
to the multitude, lamented the loss of his beast, and hoped they would
have pity upon his misfortune. When he had collected what money he
could,—“You suppose,” says he, “that my ass is dead. Not at all. The poor
fellow, well knowing the poverty of his master, has merely been feigning
all this while, that I might acquire wherewith to provide provender
for him.” Then approaching the ass, he ordered him to rise, but not
being obeyed, he seized a stick, and belaboured the poor creature most
unmercifully. Still no signs of life appeared. “Well,” said the man, once
more addressing the people, “you must know, that the sultan has issued an
order that to-morrow by break of day the whole population of Cairo are to
march out of the city to behold a grand triumph, the most beautiful women
being mounted upon asses, for whom the best oats and Nile water will be
provided.” At these words the ass sprang upon his feet with a bound, and
exhibiting tokens of extreme joy. “Ah, ha!” continued the mountebank; “I
have succeeded, have I? Well, I was about to say that I had hired this
delicate animal of mine to the principal magistrate of the city for his
little ugly old wife.” The ass, as if possessed of human feelings, now
hung his ears, and began to limp about as if lame of one foot. Then the
man said, “You imagine, I suppose, that the young women will laugh at
you.” The ass bent down his head, as if nodding assent. “Come, cheer up,”
exclaimed his master, “and tell me which of all the pretty women now
present you like best!” The animal, casting his eyes round the circle,
and selecting one of the prettiest, walked up to her, and touched her
with his head; at which the delighted multitude with roars of laughter
exclaimed, “Behold the ass’s wife!” At these words, the man sprang upon
his beast and rode away.

The ladies of Cairo, when they went abroad, affected the most superb
dresses, adorning their necks and foreheads with clusters of brilliant
gems, and wearing upon their heads lofty hurlets or coifs shaped like
a tube, and of the most costly materials. Their cloaks or mantles,
exquisitely embroidered, they covered with a piece of beautiful Indian
muslin, while a thick black veil, thrown over all, enabled them to
see without being seen. These elegant creatures, however, were very
bad wives; for, disdaining to pay the slightest attention to domestic
affairs, their husbands, like the citizens of modern Paris, were obliged
to purchase their dinners ready dressed from restaurateurs. They enjoyed
the greatest possible liberty, riding about wherever they pleased upon
asses, which they preferred to horses for the easiness of their motions.
Here and there among the crowd you heard the strange cry of those old
female practitioners who performed the rite which introduced those of
their own sex into the Mohammedan church, though their words, as the
traveller observes, were not extremely intelligible.

From Egypt Leo travelled into Arabia, Persia, Tartary, and Turkey, but
of his adventures in these countries no account remains. On returning
from Constantinople, however, by sea, he was taken by Christian corsairs
off the island of Zerbi, on the coast of Tripoli, and being carried
captive into Italy, was presented to Pope Leo X. at Rome, in 1517. The
pope, who, as is well known, entertained the highest respect for every
thing which bore the name of learning, no sooner discovered that the
Moorish slave was a person of merit and erudition, than he treated him
in the most honourable manner, settled upon him a handsome pension, and
having caused him to be instructed in the principles of the Christian
religion, had him baptized, and bestowed upon him his own name, Leo.
Our traveller now resided principally at Rome, occasionally quitting
it, however, for Bologna; and having at length acquired a competent
knowledge of the Italian language, became professor of Arabic. Here he
wrote his famous “Description of Africa,” originally in Arabic, but he
afterward either rewrote or translated it into Italian. What became of
him or where he resided after the death of his munificient patron is not
certainly known.—One of the editions of Ramusio asserts that he died
at Rome; but according to Widmanstadt, a learned German orientalist of
the sixteenth century, he retired to Tunis, where, as is usual in such
cases, he returned to his original faith, which he never seems inwardly
to have abandoned. Widmanstadt adds, that had he not been prevented by
circumstances which he could not control, he should have undertaken a
voyage to Africa expressly for the purpose of conversing with our learned
traveller, so great was his admiration of his genius and acquirements.

With respect to the work by which he will be known to posterity, and
which has furnished the principal materials for the present life,—his
“Description of Africa,”—its extraordinary merit has been generally
acknowledged. Eyriès, Hartmann, and Bruns, whose testimony is of
considerable weight, speak of it in high terms; and Ramusio, a competent
judge, observes, that up to his time no writer had described Africa with
so much truth and exactness. In fact, no person can fail, in the perusal
of this deeply interesting and curious work, to perceive the intimate
knowledge of his subject possessed by the author, or his capacity to
describe what he had seen with perspicuity and ease. The best edition
of the Latin version, the one I myself have used, and that which is
generally quoted or referred to, is the one printed by the Elzevirs, at
Leyden, in 1632. It has been translated into English, French, and German,
but with what success I am ignorant.




PIETRO DELLA VALLE.

Born 1586.—Died 1652.


Pietro della Valle, who, according to Southey, is “the most romantic in
his adventures of all true travellers,” was descended from an ancient
and noble family, and born at Rome on the 11th of April, 1586. When his
education, which appears to have been carefully conducted and liberal,
was completed, he addicted himself, with that passionate ardour which
characterized all the actions of his life, to the study of literature,
and particularly poetry; but the effervescence of his animal spirits
requiring some other vent, he shortly afterward exchanged the closet
for the camp, in the hope that the quarrel between the pope and the
Venetians, and the troubles which ensued upon the death of Henry IV. of
France, would afford him some opportunity of distinguishing himself. His
expectations being disappointed, however, he in 1611 embarked on board
the Spanish fleet, then about to make a descent on the coast of Barbary;
but nothing beyond a few skirmishes taking place, he again beheld his
desire of glory frustrated, and returned to Rome.

Here vexations of another kind awaited him. Relinquishing the services
of Fame for that of an earthly mistress, he found himself no less
unsuccessful, the lady preferring some illustrious unknown, whose name,
like her own, is now overwhelmed with “the husks and formless ruin of
oblivion.” Pietro, however, severely felt the sting of such a rejection;
and in the gloomy meditations which it gave birth to, conceived a plan
which, as he foresaw, fulfilled his most ambitious wishes, and attached
an imperishable reputation to his name. The idea was no sooner conceived
than he proceeded to put it in execution, and taking leave of his friends
and of Rome, repaired to Naples, in order to consult with his friend,
Mario Schipano, a physician of that city, distinguished for his oriental
learning and abilities, concerning the best means of conducting his
hazardous enterprise. Fortunately he possessed sufficient wealth to spurn
the counsel of sloth and timidity, which, when any act of daring is
proposed, are always at hand, disguised as prudence and good sense, to
cast a damp upon the springs of energy, or to travesty and misrepresent
the purposes of the bold. Pietro, however, was not to be intimidated. The
wonders and glories of the East were for ever present to his imagination,
and having heard mass, and been solemnly clothed by the priest with
the habit of a pilgrim, he proceeded to Venice in order to embark for
Constantinople. The ship in which he sailed left the port on the 6th of
June, 1614. No event of peculiar interest occurred during the voyage,
which, lying along the romantic shores and beautiful islands of Greece,
merely served to nourish and strengthen Pietro’s enthusiasm. On drawing
near the Dardanelles the sight of the coast of Troy, with its uncertain
ruins and heroic tombs, over which poetry has spread an atmosphere
brighter than any thing belonging to mere physical nature, awoke all the
bright dreams of boyhood, and hurrying on shore, his heart overflowing
with rapture, he kissed the earth from which, according to tradition, the
Roman race originally sprung.

From the Troad to Constantinople the road lies over a tract hallowed by
the footsteps of antiquity, and at every step Pietro felt his imagination
excited by some memorial of the great of other days. On arriving at
the Ottoman capital, where he purposed making a long stay, one of his
first cares was to acquire a competent knowledge of the language of the
country, which he did as much for the vanity, as he himself acknowledges,
of exhibiting his accomplishments on his return to Italy, where the
knowledge of that language was rare, as for the incalculable benefit
which must accrue from it during his travels. Here he for the first time
tasted coffee, at that time totally unknown in Italy. He was likewise
led to entertain hopes of being able to obtain from the sultan’s library
a complete copy of the Decades of Livy; but after flitting before him
some time like a phantom, the manuscript vanished, and the greater
portion of the mighty Paduan remained veiled as before. While he was
busily engaged in these researches, the plague broke out, every house in
Galata, excepting that of the French ambassador, in which he resided, was
infected; corpses and coffins met the sickened eye wherever it turned;
the chief of his attendants pined away through terror; and, although at
first he affected to laugh and make merry with his fears, they every
day fed so abundantly upon horrors and rumours of horrors, that they at
length became an overmatch for his philosophy, and startled him with
the statement that one hundred and forty thousand victims had already
perished, and that peradventure Pietro della Valle might be the next.

This consideration caused him to turn his eye towards Egypt; and although
the plague shortly afterward abated, his love of motion having been
once more awakened, he bade adieu to Constantinople, and sailed for
Alexandria. Arriving in Egypt, he ascended the Nile to Cairo, viewed the
pyramids, examined the mummy-pits; and then, with a select number of
friends and attendants, departed across the desert to visit Horeb and
Sinai, the wells of Moses, and other places celebrated in the Bible.
This journey being performed in the heart of winter, he found Mount
Sinai covered with snow, which did not, however, prevent his rambling
about among its wild ravines, precipices, and chasms; when, his pious
curiosity being gratified, he visited Ælau or Ailoth, the modern Akaba,
and returned by Suez to Cairo. Among the very extraordinary things he
beheld in this country were a man and woman upwards of eight feet in
height, natives of Upper Egypt, whom he measured himself: and tortoises
as large as the body of a carriage!

His stay in Egypt was not of long continuance, the longing to visit
the Holy Land causing him to regard every other country with a kind of
disdain; and accordingly, joining a small caravan which was proceeding
thither across the desert, he journeyed by El Arish and Gaza to
Jerusalem. After witnessing the various mummeries practised in the Holy
City at Easter by the Roman Catholics, and making an excursion to the
banks of the Jordan, where he saw a number of female pilgrims plunging
naked into the sacred stream in the view of an immense multitude, he
bent his steps towards Northern Syria, and hurried forward by the way
of Damascus to Aleppo. In this city he remained some time, his body
requiring some repose, though the ardour and activity of his mind
appeared to be every day increasing. The journey which he now meditated
across the Arabian Desert into Mesopotamia required considerable
preparation. The mode of travelling was new. Horses were to be exchanged
for camels; the European dress for that of the East; and instead of the
sun, the stars and the moon were to light them over the waste.

He was now unconsciously touching upon the most important point of his
career. In the caravan with which he departed from Aleppo, September
16, 1616, there was a young merchant of Bagdad, with whom, during the
journey, he formed a close intimacy. This young man was constantly in
the habit of entertaining him, as they rode along side by side through
the moonlight, or when they sat down in their tent during the heat of
the day, with the praises of a young lady of Bagdad, who, according to
his description, to every charm of person which could delight the eye
united all those qualities of heart and mind which render the conquests
of beauty durable. It was clear to Pietro from the beginning that the
youthful merchant was in love, and therefore he at first paid but little
regard to his extravagant panegyrics; but by degrees the conversations of
his companion produced a sensible effect upon his own mind, so that his
curiosity to behold the object of so much praise, accompanied, perhaps,
by a slight feeling of another kind, at length grew intense, and he every
day looked upon the slow march of the camels, and the surface of the
boundless plain before him, with more and more impatience. The wandering
Turcoman with his flocks and herds, rude tent, and ruder manners,
commanded much less attention than he would have done at any other
period; and even the Bedouins, whose sharp lances and keen scimitars kept
awake the attention of the rest of the caravan, were almost forgotten by
Pietro. However, trusting to the information of his interested guide, he
represents them as having filled up the greater number of the wells in
the desert, so that there remained but a very few open, and these were
known to those persons only whose profession it was to pilot caravans
across this ocean of sand. The sagacity with which these men performed
their duty was wonderful. By night the stars served them for guides;
but when these brilliant signals were swallowed up in the light of the
sun, they then had recourse to the slight variations in the surface of
the plain, imperceptible to other eyes, to the appearance or absence of
certain plants, and even to the smell of the soil, by all which signs
they always knew exactly where they were.

At length, after a toilsome and dangerous march of fifteen days, they
arrived upon the banks of the Euphrates, a little after sunrise, and
pitched their tents in the midst of clumps of cypress and small
cedar-trees. On the following night, as soon as the moon began to
silver over the waters of the Euphrates, the caravan again put itself
in motion; and, descending along the course of the stream, in six days
arrived at Anah, a city of the Arabs, lying on both sides of the river,
whose broad surface is here dotted with numerous small islands covered
with fruit-trees. They now crossed the river; and the merchants of the
caravan, avoiding the safe and commodious road which lay through towns in
which custom-house officers were found, struck off into a desolate and
dangerous route, traversing Mesopotamia nearly in a right line, and on
the 19th of October reached the banks of the Tigris, a larger and more
rapid river than the Euphrates, though on this occasion Pietro thought
its current less impetuous. The night before they entered Bagdad the
caravan was robbed in a very dexterous manner. Their tents were pitched
in the plain, the officers of the custom-house posted around to prevent
smuggling; the merchants, congratulating themselves that they had already
succeeded in eluding the duties almost to the extent of their desires,
had fallen into the sound sleep which attends on a clear conscience; and
Pietro, his domestics, and the other inmates of the caravan had followed
their example. In the dead of the night the camp was entered by stealth,
the tents rummaged, and considerable booty carried off. The banditti,
entering Pietro’s tent, and finding all asleep, opened the trunk in which
were all the manuscripts, designs, and plans he had made during his
travels, carefully packed up, as if for the convenience of robbers, in a
small portable escrutoire; but by an instinct which was no less fortunate
for them than for the traveller and posterity, since such spoil could
have been of no value to them, they rejected the escrutoire, and selected
all our traveller’s fine linen, the very articles in which he hoped
to have captivated the beauty whose eulogies had so highly inflamed
his imagination. A Venetian, who happened to be in the camp, had his
arquebuse stolen from under his head, and this little incident, as it
tended to show that the robbers had made still more free with others than
with him, somewhat consoled Pietro for the loss of his linen. As the
traveller does not himself attach any suspicion to the military gentlemen
of the custom-house, it might, perhaps, be uncharitable to deposite the
burden of this theft upon their shoulders; but in examining all the
circumstances of the transaction, I confess the idea that their ingenuity
was concerned did present itself to me.

Next morning the beams of the rising sun, gleaming upon a thousand
slender minarets and lofty-swelling domes surmounted by gilded crescents,
discovered to him the ancient city of the califs stretching away right
and left to a vast distance over the plain, while the Tigris, like a huge
serpent, rolled along, cutting the city into two parts, and losing itself
among the sombre buildings which seemed to tremble over its waters. The
camels were once more loaded, and the caravan, stretching itself out into
one long, narrow column, toiled along over the plain, and soon entered
the dusty, winding streets of Bagdad. Here Pietro, whose coming had been
announced the evening before by his young commercial companion, was met
by the father of the Assyrian beauty, a fine patriarchal-looking old
man, who entreated him to be his guest during his stay in Mesopotamia.
This favour Pietro declined, but at the same time he eagerly accepted
of the permission to visit at his house; and was no sooner completely
established in his own dwelling than he fully availed himself of this
permission.

The family to which he became thus suddenly known was originally of
Mardin, but about fourteen years previously had been driven from thence
by the Kurds, who sacked and plundered the city, and reduced such of the
inhabitants as they could capture to slavery. They were Christians of
the Nestorian sect; but Della Valle, who was a bigot in his way, seems
to have regarded them as aliens from the church of Christ. However,
this circumstance did not prevent the image of Sitti Maani, the eldest
of the old man’s daughters, and the beauty of whom he had heard so
glowing a description in the desert, from finding its way into his
heart, though the idea of marrying having occurred to him at Aleppo, he
had written home to his relations to provide him with a suitable wife
against his return to Italy. Maani was now in her eighteenth year. Her
mind had been as highly cultivated as the circumstances of the times
and the country would allow; and her understanding enabled her to turn
all her accomplishments to advantage. In person, she was a perfect
oriental beauty; dark, even in the eyes of an Italian, with hair nearly
black, and eyes of the same colour, shaded by lashes of unusual length,
she possessed something of an imperial air. Pietro was completely
smitten, and for the present every image but that of Maani seemed to be
obliterated from his mind.

His knowledge of the Turkish language was now of the greatest service to
him; for, possessing but a very few words of Arabic, this was the only
medium by which he could make known the colour of his thoughts either
to his mistress or her mother. His passion, however, supplied him with
eloquence, and by dint of vehement protestations, in this instance the
offspring of genuine affection, he at length succeeded in his enterprise,
and Maani became his wife. But in the midst of these transactions, when
it most imported him to remain at Bagdad, an event occurred in his
own house which not only exposed him to the risk of being driven with
disgrace from the city, but extremely endangered his life and that of all
those who were connected with him. His secretary and valet having for
some time entertained a grudge against each other, the former, one day
seizing the khanjar, or dagger, of Pietro, stabbed his adversary to the
heart, and the poor fellow dropped down dead in the arms of his master.
The murderer fled. What course to pursue under such circumstances it
was difficult to determine. Should the event come to the knowledge of
the pasha, both master and servants might, perhaps, be thought equally
guilty, and be impaled alive; or, if matters were not pushed to such
extremities, it might at least be pretended that the deceased was the
real owner of whatever property they possessed, in order to confiscate
the whole for the benefit of the state. As neither of these results was
desirable, the safest course appeared to be to prevent, if possible, the
knowledge of the tragedy from transpiring; a task of some difficulty, as
all the domestics of the household were acquainted with what had passed.
The only individual with whom Pietro could safely consult upon this
occasion (for he was unwilling to disclose so horrible a transaction to
Maani’s relations) was a Maltese renegade, a man of some consideration in
the city; and for him, therefore, he immediately despatched a messenger.
This man, when he had heard what had happened, was of opinion that the
body should be interred in a corner of the house; but Pietro, who had
no desire that so bloody a memorial of the Italian temperament should
remain in his immediate neighbourhood, and moreover considered it unsafe,
thought it would be much better at the bottom of the Tigris. The Maltese,
most fortunately, possessed a house and garden on the edge of the river,
and thither the body, packed up carefully in a chest, was quickly
conveyed, though there was much difficulty in preventing the blood from
oozing out, and betraying to its bearers the nature of their burden.
When it was dark the chest was put on board a boat, and, dropping down
the river, the renegade and two of his soldiers cautiously lowered it
into the water; and thus no material proof of the murder remained. The
assassin, who had taken refuge at the house of the Maltese, was enabled
to return to Italy; and the event, strange to say, was kept secret,
though so many persons were privy to it.

When this danger was over, and the beautiful Maani irrevocably his,
Pietro began once more to feel the passion of the traveller revive, and
commenced those little excursions through Mesopotamia which afterward
enabled Gibbon to pronounce him the person who had best observed that
province. His first visit, as might be expected, was to the ruins of
Babylon. The party with which he left Bagdad consisted of Maani, a
Venetian, a Dutch painter, Ibrahim a native of Aleppo, and two Turkish
soldiers. For the first time since the commencement of his travels,
Pietro now selected the longest and least dangerous road, taking care,
moreover, to keep as near as possible to the farms and villages, in
order, in case of necessity, to derive provisions and succour from their
inhabitants. Maani, who appears to have had a dash of Kurdish blood in
her, rode astride like a man, and kept her saddle as firmly as any son
of the desert could have done; and Pietro constantly moved along by her
side. When they had performed a considerable portion of their journey,
and, rejoicing in their good fortune, were already drawing near Babylon,
eight or ten horsemen armed with muskets and bows and arrows suddenly
appeared in the distance, making towards them with all speed. Pietro
imagined that the day for trying his courage was now come; and he and his
companions, having cocked their pieces and prepared to offer a desperate
resistance, pushed on towards the enemy. However, their chivalric spirit
was not doomed to be here put to the test; for, upon drawing near, the
horsemen were found to belong to Bagdad, and the adventure concluded in
civility and mutual congratulations.

Having carefully examined the ruins of Babylon, the city of Hillah, and
the other celebrated spots in that neighbourhood, the party returned to
Bagdad, from whence he again departed in a few days for Modain, the site
of the ancient Ctesiphon, near which he had the satisfaction of observing
the interior of an Arab encampment.

His curiosity respecting Mesopotamia was now satisfied; and as every
day’s residence among the Ottomans only seemed more and more to inflame
his hatred of that brutal race, he as much as possible hastened his
departure from Bagdad, having now conceived the design of serving as a
volunteer in the armies of Persia, at that period at war with Turkey, and
of thus wreaking his vengeance upon the Osmanlees for the tyranny they
exercised on all Christians within their power. Notwithstanding that war
between the two countries had long been declared, the Pasha of Bagdad
and the Persian authorities on the frontier continued openly to permit
the passage of caravans; and thus, were he once safe out of Bagdad with
his wife and treasures, there would be no difficulty in entering Persia.
To effect this purpose he entered into an arrangement with a Persian
muleteer, who was directed to obtain from the pasha a passport for
himself and followers, with a charosh to conduct them to the extremity
of the Turkish dominions. This being done, the Persian, according to
agreement, left the city, and encamped at a short distance from the
walls, where, as is the custom, he was visited by the officers of the
custom-house; after which, Pietro caused the various individuals of his
own small party to issue forth by various streets into the plain, while
he himself, dressed as he used to be when riding out for amusement on the
banks of the Tigris, quitted the town after sunset, and gained the place
of encampment in safety.

When the night had now completely descended upon the earth, and all
around was still, the little caravan put itself in motion; and being
mounted, some on good sturdy mules, and others on the horses of the
country, they advanced at a rapid rate, fearing all the way that the
pasha might repent of his civility towards the Persian, and send an order
to bring them back to the city. By break of day they arrived on the
banks of the Diala, a river which discharges itself into the Tigris; and
here, in spite of their impatience, they were detained till noon, there
being but one boat at the ferry. In six days they reached the southern
branches of the mountains of Kurdistan, and found themselves suddenly in
the midst of that wild and hardy race, which, from the remotest ages, has
maintained possession of these inexpugnable fastnesses, which harassed
the ten thousand in their retreat, and still enact a conspicuous part
in all the border wars between the Persians and Turks. Living for the
most part in a dangerous independence, fiercely spurning the yoke of its
powerful neighbours, though continually embroiled in their interminable
quarrels, speaking a distinct language, and having a peculiar system of
manners, which does not greatly differ from that of the feudal times,
they may justly be regarded as one of the most extraordinary races of
the Asiatic continent. Some of them, spellbound by the allurements of
wealth and ease, have erected cities and towns, and addicted themselves
to agriculture and the gainful arts. Others, preferring that entire
liberty which of all earthly blessings is the greatest in the estimation
of ardent and haughty minds, and regarding luxury as a species of Circean
cup, in its effects debasing and destructive, covet no wealth but their
herds and flocks, around which they erect no fortifications but their
swords. These are attracted hither and thither over the wilds by the
richness of the pasturage, and dwell in tents.

In Kurdistan, as elsewhere, the winning manners of Della Valle procured
him a hospitable reception. The presence of Maani, too, whose youth
and beauty served as an inviolable wall of protection among brave
men, increased his claims to their hospitality; so that these savage
mountaineers, upon whom the majority of travellers concur in heaping the
most angry maledictions, obtained from the warm-hearted, grateful Pietro
the character of a kind and gentle people. On the 20th of January, 1617,
he quitted Kurdistan, and entered Persia. The change was striking. A
purer atmosphere, a more productive and better-cultivated soil, and a far
more dense population than in Turkey, caused him, from the suddenness
of the transition, somewhat to exaggerate, perhaps, the advantages of
this country. It is certain that the eyes of the traveller, like the
fabled gems of antiquity, carry about the light by which he views the
objects which come before him; and that the condition of this light is
greatly affected by the state of his animal spirits. Pietro was now in
that tranquil and serene mode of being consequent upon that enjoyment
which conscience approves; and having passed from a place where dangers,
real or imaginary, surrounded him, into a country where he at least
anticipated safety, if not distinction, it was natural that his fancy
should paint the landscape with delusive colours. Besides, many real
advantages existed; tents were no longer necessary, there being at every
halting-place a spacious caravansary, where the traveller could obtain
gratis lodgings for himself and attendants, and shelter for his beasts
and baggage. Fruits, likewise, such as pomegranates, apples, and grapes,
abounded, though the earth was still deeply covered with snow. If we
add to this that the Persians are a people who pique themselves upon
their urbanity, and, whatever may be the basis of their character, with
which the passing traveller has little to do, really conduct themselves
politely towards strangers, it will not appear very surprising that Della
Valle, who had just escaped from the boorish Ottomans, should have been
charmed with Persia.

Arriving at Ispahan, at that period the capital of the empire, that is,
the habitual place of residence of the shah, his first care, of course,
was to taste a little repose; after which, he resumed his usual custom
of strolling about the city and its environs, observing the manners, and
sketching whatever was curious in costume and scenery. Here he remained
for several months; but growing tired, as usual, of calm inactivity, the
more particularly as the court was absent, he now prepared to present
himself before the shah, then in Mazenderan. Accordingly, having provided
a splendid litter for his wife and her sister, who, like genuine amazons,
determined to accompany him to the wars should he eventually take up arms
in the service of Persia, and provided every other necessary for the
journey, he quitted Ispahan, and proceeded northward towards the shores
of the Caspian Sea. The journey was performed in the most agreeable
manner imaginable. Whenever they came up to a pleasant grove, a shady
fountain, or any romantic spot where the greensward was sprinkled with
flowers or commanded a beautiful prospect, the whole party made a halt;
and the ladies, descending from their litter, which was borne by two
camels, and Pietro from his barb, they sat down like luxurious gipsies to
their breakfast or dinner, while the nightingales in the dusky recesses
of the groves served them instead of a musician.

Proceeding slowly, on account of his harem, as he terms it, they arrived
in seven days at Cashan, where the imprudence of Maani nearly involved
him in a very serious affair. Being insulted on her way to the bezestein
by an officer, she gave the signal to her attendants to chastise the
drunkard, and, a battle ensuing, the unhappy man lost his life. When the
news was brought to Pietro he was considerably alarmed; but on proceeding
to the house of the principal magistrate, he very fortunately found that
the affair had been properly represented to him, and that his people were
not considered to have exceeded their duty. His wife, not reflecting
that her masculine habits and fiery temperament were quite sufficient to
account for the circumstance, now began to torment both herself and her
husband because she had not yet become a mother; and supposing that in
such cases wine was a sovereign remedy, she endeavoured to prevail upon
Pietro, who was a water-drinker, to have recourse to a more generous
beverage, offering to join with him, if he would comply, in the worship
of Bacchus. Our traveller, who had already, as he candidly informs us, a
small family in Italy, could not be brought to believe that the fault lay
in his sober potations, and firmly resisted the temptations of his wife.
With friendly arguments upon this and other topics they beguiled the
length of the way, and at length arrived in Mazenderan, though Maani’s
passion for horsemanship more than once put her neck in jeopardy on
the road. The scene which now presented itself was extremely different
from that through which they had hitherto generally passed. Instead of
the treeless plains or unfertile deserts which they had traversed in
the northern parts of Irak, they saw before them a country strongly
resembling Europe; mountains, deep well-wooded valleys, or rich green
plains rapidly alternating with each other, and the whole, watered by
abundant streams and fountains, refreshed and delighted the eye; and he
was as yet unconscious of the insalubrity of the atmosphere.

Pietro, who, like Petronius, was an “elegans formarum spectator,” greatly
admired the beauty and graceful figures of the women of this province,—a
fact which makes strongly against the idea of its being unhealthy; for
it may generally be inferred, that wherever the women are handsome the
air is good. Here and there they observed, as they moved along, the
ruins of castles and fortresses on the acclivities and projections of the
mountains, which had formerly served as retreats to numerous chiefs who
had there aimed at independence. A grotto, which they discovered in a
nearly inaccessible position in the face of a mountain, was pointed out
to them as the residence of a virgin of gigantic stature, who, without
associates or followers, like the virago who obstructed the passage
of Theseus from Trœzene to Athens, formerly ravaged and depopulated
that part of the country. This and similar legends of giants, which
resemble those which prevail among all rude nations, were related to
our traveller, who rejected them with disdain as utterly fabulous and
contemptible, though not much more so, perhaps, than some which, as a
true son of the Roman church, he no doubt held in reverence.

At length, after considerable fatigue, they arrived at Ferhabad, a small
port built by the Shah Abbas on the Caspian Sea. Here the governor of
the city, when informed of his arrival, assigned him a house in the
eastern quarter of the city, the rooms of which, says Pietro, were so
low, that although by no means a tall man, he could touch the ceiling
with his hand. If the house, however, reminded him of the huts erected by
Romulus on the Capitoline, the garden, on the other hand, was delightful,
being a large space of ground thickly planted with white mulberry-trees,
and lying close upon the bank of the river. Here he passed the greater
portion of his time with Actius Sincerus, or Marcus Aurelius, or
Ferrari’s Geographical Epitome in his hand, now offering sacrifices to
the Muses, and now running over with his eye the various countries and
provinces which he was proud to have travelled over. One of his favourite
occupations was the putting of his own adventures into verse, under a
feigned name. This he did in that _terza rima_ which Dante’s example
had made respectable, but not popular, in Italy; and as he was not of
the humour to hide his talent under a bushel, his brain was no sooner
delivered of this conceit than he despatched it to Rome for the amusement
of his friends.

Being now placed upon the margin of the Caspian, he very naturally
desired to examine the appearance of its shores and waters; but embarking
for this purpose in a fishing-boat with Maani, who, having passed her
life in Mesopotamia, had never before seen the sea, her sickness and the
fears produced in her mind by the tossing and rolling of the bark among
the waves quickly put an end to the voyage. He ascertained, however,
from the pilots of the coast, that the waters of this sea were not deep;
immense banks of sand and mud, borne down into this vast basin by the
numerous rivers which discharge themselves into it, being met with on all
sides; though it is probable, that had they ventured far from shore they
would have found the case different. Fish of many kinds were plentiful;
but owing, perhaps, to the fat and slimy nature of the bottom, they were
all large, gross, and insipid.

The shah was just then at Asshraff, a new city which he had caused to
be erected, and was then enlarging, about six perasangs, or leagues, to
the east of Ferhabad. Pietro, anxious to be introduced to the monarch,
soon after his arrival wrote letters to the principal minister, which,
together with others from the vicar-general of the Carmelite monks at
Ispahan, he despatched by two of his domestics; and the ministers,
according to his desire, informed the shah of his presence at Ferhabad.
Abbas, who apparently had no desire that he should witness the state of
things at Asshraff, not as yet comprehending either his character or his
motives, observed, that the roads being extremely bad, the traveller had
better remain at Ferhabad, whither he himself was about to proceed on
horseback in a day or two. Pietro, whose vanity prevented his perceiving
the shah’s motives, supposed in good earnest that Abbas was chary of his
guest’s ease; and, to crown the absurdity, swallowed another monstrous
fiction invented by the courtiers, who, as Hajjî Baba would say, were
all the while laughing at his beard,—namely, that the monarch was so
overjoyed at his arrival, that, had he not been annoyed by the number of
soldiers who followed him against his will, he would next morning have
ridden to Ferhabad to bid him welcome!

However, when he actually arrived in that city, he did not, as our worthy
pilgrim expected, immediately admit him to an audience. In the mean
while an agent from the Cossacks inhabiting the north-eastern shores of
the Black Sea arrived, and Della Valle, who neglected no occasion of
forwarding his own views, in the shaping of which he exhibited remarkable
skill, at once connected himself with this stranger, whom he engaged to
aid and assist by every means in his power, receiving from the barbarian
the same assurances in return. The Cossack had come to tender the shah
his nation’s services against the Turks; notwithstanding which, the
business of his presentation had been negligently or purposely delayed,
probably that he might understand, when his proposal should be afterward
received, that, although the aid he promised was acceptable, it was by no
means necessary, nor so considered.

At length the long-anticipated audience arrived, and Della Valle, when
presented, was well received by the shah; who, not being accustomed,
however, to the crusading spirit or the romance of chivalry, could not
very readily believe that the real motives which urged him to join the
Persian armies were precisely those which he professed. Nevertheless, his
offers of service were accepted, and the provisions which he had already
received rendered permanent. He was, moreover, sumptuously entertained
at the royal table, and had frequently the honour of being consulted upon
affairs of importance by the shah.

Abbas soon afterward removing with his court into Ghilan, without
inviting Della Valle to accompany him, the latter departed for Casbin,
there to await the marching of the army against the Turks, in which
enterprise he was still mad enough to desire to engage. On reaching this
city he found that Abbas had been more expeditious than he, and was
already there, actively preparing for the war. All the military officers
of the kingdom now received orders to repair with all possible despatch
to Sultanieh, a city three days’ journey west of Casbin; and Pietro, who
had voluntarily become a member of this martial class, hurried on among
the foremost, in the hope of acquiring glory of a new kind.

The shah and his army had not been many days encamped in the plains of
Sultanieh, when a courier from the general, who had already proceeded
towards the frontiers, arrived with the news that the Turkish army was
advancing, although slowly. This news allowed the troops, who had been
fatigued with forced marches, a short repose; after which they pushed
on vigorously towards Ardebil and Tabriz, Pietro and his heroic wife
keeping pace with the foremost. In this critical juncture, Abbas, though
in some respects a man of strong mind, did not consider it prudent to
trust altogether to corporeal armies; but, having in his dominions
certain individuals who pretended to have some influence over the
infernal powers, sought to interest hell also in his favour; and for
this purpose carried a renowned sorceress from Zunjan along with him to
the wars, in the same spirit as Charles the First, and the Parliament
shortly afterward, employed Lily to prophesy for them. Their route now
lay through the ancient Media, over narrow plains or hills covered with
verdure but bare of trees, sometimes traversing tremendous chasms,
spanned by bridges of fearful height, at others winding along the
acclivities of mountains, or upon the edge of precipices.

Notwithstanding his seeming ardour to engage with the Turks, Pietro,
for some cause or another, did not join the fighting part of the army,
but remained with the shah’s suite at Ardebil. This circumstance seems
to have lowered him considerably in the estimation of the court. A
battle, however, was fought, in which the Persians were victorious; but
the Turkish sultan dying at this juncture, his successor commanded his
general to negotiate for peace, which, after the usual intrigues and
delays, was at length concluded. Abbas now returned to Casbin, where the
victory and the peace was celebrated with great rejoicings; and here
Della Valle, who seems to have begun to perceive that he was not likely
to make any great figure in war, took his leave of the court in extremely
bad health and low spirits, and returned to Ispahan.

Here repose, and the conversation of the friends he had made in this
city, once more put him in good-humour with himself and with Persia; and
being of an exceedingly hasty and inconsiderate disposition, he no sooner
began to experience a little tranquillity, than he exerted the influence
he had acquired over the parents of his wife to induce them, right or
wrong, to leave Bagdad, where they lived contentedly and in comfort,
and to settle at Ispahan, where they were in a great measure strangers,
notwithstanding that one of their younger daughters was married to an
Armenian of that city. The principal members of the family, no less
imprudent than their adviser, accordingly quitted Mesopotamia with their
treasures and effects, and established themselves in the capital of
Persia.

This measure was productive of nothing but disappointment and vexation.
One of Maani’s sisters, who had remained with her mother at Bagdad,
while the father and brothers were at Ispahan, died suddenly; and the
mother, inconsolable for her loss, entreated her husband to return to her
with her other children. Then followed the pangs of parting, rendered
doubly bitter by the reflection that it was for ever. Pietro became ill
and melancholy, having now turned his thoughts, like the prodigal in
the parable, towards his country and his father’s house, and determined
shortly to commence his journey homeward. Obtaining without difficulty
his dismission from the shah, and winding up his affairs, which were
neither intricate nor embarrassed, at Ispahan, he set out on a visit
to Shiraz, intending, when he should have examined Persepolis and its
environs, to bid an eternal adieu to Persia.

With this view, having remained some time at Shiraz, admiring but not
enjoying the pure stream of the Rocnabad, the bowers of Mesellay, and the
bright atmosphere which shed glory on all around, he proceeded to Mineb,
a small town on the river Ibrahim, a little to the south of Gombroon and
Ormus, on the shore of the Persian Gulf. Maani, whose desire to become a
mother had been an unceasing source of unhappiness to her ever since her
marriage, being now pregnant, nothing could have been more ill-judged in
her husband than to approach those pestilential coasts; especially at
such a season of the year. He quickly discovered his error, but it was
too late. The fever which rages with unremitting violence throughout all
that part of the country during six months in the year had now seized not
only upon Maani, but on himself likewise, and upon every other member of
his family. Instant flight might, perhaps, have rescued them from danger,
as it afterward did Chardin, but a fatal lethargy seems to have seized
upon the mind of Pietro. He trembled at the destiny which menaced him,
he saw death, as it were, entering his house, and approach gradually
the individual whom he cherished beyond all others; time was allowed
him by Providence for escape, yet he stood still, as if spellbound, and
suffered the victim to be seized without a struggle. His wife, whose
condition I have alluded to above, affected at once by the fever, and
apprehensive of its consequences, was terrified into premature labour,
and a son dead-born considerably before its time put the finishing
stroke, as it were, to the affliction of her mind. Her fever increased
in violence—medical aid was vain—death triumphed—and Maani sunk into the
grave at the age of twenty-three.

A total change now came over the mind of Della Valle, which not only
affected the actions of his life, but communicated itself to his
writings, depriving them of that dashing quixotism which up to this point
constitutes their greatest charm. A cloud, black as Erebus, descended
upon his soul, and nine months elapsed before he could again command
sufficient spirits or energy to announce the melancholy event to his
friend Schipano. He, however, resolved that the body of his beloved wife
should not be consigned to the earth in Persia, where he should never
more come to visit or shed a tear over her grave. He therefore contrived
to have it embalmed, and then, enclosing it in a coffin adapted to the
purpose, placed it in a travelling trunk, in order that, wherever his
good or bad fortune should conduct him, the dear remains of his Maani
might accompany him to the grave. Certain circumstances attending this
transaction strongly serve to illustrate the character of Della Valle,
and while they tell in favour of his affection, and paint the melancholy
condition to which his bereavement had reduced him, likewise throw some
light upon the manners and state of the country. Dead bodies being
regarded as unclean by the Mohammedans, as they were in old Greece and
Rome, and most other nations of antiquity, no persons could be found to
undertake the task of embalming but a few old women, whom the _auri sacra
fames_ reconciled to the pollution. These, wrapping thick bandages over
their mouths and nostrils, to prevent the powerful odour of the gum from
penetrating into their lungs and brain, after having disembowelled the
corpse, filled its cavities with camphor, and with the same ingredient,
which was of the most pungent and desiccating nature, rubbed all its
limbs and surface until the perfume had penetrated to the very bones.
Pietro, at all times superstitious, was now rendered doubly so by sorrow.
Having somewhere heard or read that the bodies of men will be reanimated
at the general resurrection, wherever their heads happen to be deposited,
while, according to another theory, it was the resting-place of the heart
which was to determine the point, and being desirous, according to either
view of the matter, that Maani and himself should rise on that awful
day together, he gave orders that the heart of his beloved should be
carefully embalmed with the rest of the body. It never once occurred to
him that the _pollinctores_ (or undertakers) might neglect his commands,
and therefore he omitted to overlook this part of the operation; indeed
his feelings would not allow him to be present, and while it was going
on he sat retired, hushing the tempest of his soul in the best manner he
could. While he was in this state of agony, he observed the embalmers
approaching him with something in their hands, and on casting his eyes
upon it he beheld the heart of Maani in a saucer! An unspeakable horror
shot through his whole frame as he gazed upon the heart which, but a few
days before, had bounded with delight and joy to meet his own; and he
turned away his head with a shudder.

When the operation was completed, the mummy was laid out upon a board,
and placed under a tent in the garden, in order to be still further
desiccated by the action of the air. Here it remained seven days and
nights, and the walls being low, it was necessary to keep a strict and
perpetual watch over it, lest the hyenas should enter and devour it. Worn
down as he was by fever, by watching, and by sorrow, Pietro would intrust
this sacred duty to no vulgar guardian during the night, but, with his
loaded musket in his hand, paced to and fro before the tent through the
darkness, while the howls of the hyenas, bursting forth suddenly quite
near him, as it were, frequently startled his ear and increased his
vigilance. By day he took a few hours’ repose, while his domestics kept
watch.

When this melancholy task had been duly performed, he departed, in
sickness and dejection, for the city of Lâr, where the air being somewhat
cooler and more pure, he entertained some hopes of a recovery. Not many
days after his arrival, a Syrian whom he had known at Ispahan brought him
news from Bagdad which were any thing but calculated to cheer or console
his mind. He learned that another sister of Maani had died on the road
in returning from Persia; that the father, stricken to the soul by this
new calamity, had likewise died a few days after reaching home; and that
the widow, thus bereaved of the better part of her family, and feeling
the decrepitude of old age coming apace, was inconsolable. Our traveller
was thunderstruck. Death seemed to have put his mark on all those whom he
loved. Persia now became hateful to him. Its very atmosphere appeared to
teem with misfortunes as with clouds. Nothing, therefore, seemed left him
but to quit it with all possible celerity.

Pietro’s desire to return to Italy was now abated, and travelling more
desirable than home; motion, the presence of strange objects, the
surmounting of difficulties and dangers, being better adapted than
ease and leisure for the dissipating of sharp grief. For this reason he
returned to the shore of the Persian Gulf, and embarked at Gombroon on
board of an English ship for India, taking along with him the body of his
wife, and a little orphan Georgian girl whom he and Maani had adopted
at Ispahan. As even a father cannot remove his daughter, or a husband
his wife, from the shah’s dominions without an especial permission,
which might not be granted without considerable delay, Pietro determined
to elude the laws, and disguising the Georgian in the dress of a boy,
contrived to get her on board among the ship’s crew in the dusk of the
evening, on the 19th of January, 1623.

Traversing the Indian Ocean with favourable winds, he arrived on the 10th
of February at Surat, where he was hospitably entertained by the English
and Dutch residents. He found Guzerat a pleasant country, consisting,
as far as his experience extended, of rich, green plains, well watered,
and thickly interspersed with trees. From Surat he proceeded to Cambay,
a large city situated upon the extremity of a fine plain at the bottom
of the gulf of the same name. Here he adopted the dress, and as far as
possible the manners of the Hindoos, and then, striking off a little from
the coast, visited Ahmedabad, travelling thither with a small cafila or
caravan, the roads being considered dangerous for solitary individuals.
At a small village on the road he observed an immense number of beautiful
yellow squirrels, with fine large tails, leaping from tree to tree; and a
little farther on met with a great number of beggars armed with bows and
arrows, who demanded charity with sound of trumpet. His observations in
this country, though sufficiently curious occasionally, were the fruit of
a too hasty survey, which could not enable him to pierce deeply below the
exterior crust of manners. Indeed, he seems rather to have amused himself
with strange sights, than sought to philosophize upon the circumstances
of humanity. In a temple of Mahades in this city, where numerous Yoghees,
the Gymnosophists of antiquity, were standing like so many statues behind
the sacred lamps, he observed an image of the god entirely of crystal.
On the banks of the Sabermati, which ran close beneath the walls of the
city, numerous Yoghees, as naked as at the moment of their birth, were
seated, with matted hair, and wild looks, and powdered all over with the
ashes of the dead bodies which they had aided in burning.

Returning to Cambay, he embarked in a Portuguese ship for Goa, a city
chiefly remarkable for the number of monks that flocked thither, and for
the atrocities which they there perpetrated in the name of the Church of
Rome. Della Valle soon found that there was more security and pleasure in
living among pagans “suckled in a creed outworn,” or even among heretics,
than in this Portuguese city, where all strangers were regarded with
horror, and met with nothing but baseness and treachery. Leaving this
den of monks and traitors, he proceeded southward along the coast, and
in a few days arrived at Onore, where he went to pay a visit to a native
of distinction, whom they found upon the shore, seated beneath the shade
of some fine trees, flanked and overshadowed, as it were, by a range
of small hills. Being in the company of a Portuguese ambassador from
Goa to a rajah of the Sadasiva race, who then held his court at Ikery,
he regarded the opportunity of observing something of the interior of
the peninsula as too favourable to be rejected, and obtained permission
to form a part of the ambassador’s suite. They set out from Onore in
boats, but the current of the river they were ascending was so rapid and
powerful, that with the aid of both sails and oars they were unable to
push on that day beyond Garsopa, formerly a large and flourishing city,
but now inconsiderable and neglected. Here the scenery, a point which
seldom commanded much of Della Valle’s attention, however picturesque
or beautiful it might be, was of so exquisite a character, so rich, so
glowing, so variable, so full of contrasts, that indifferent as he was on
that head, his imagination was kindled, and he confessed, that turn which
way soever he might, the face of nature was marvellously delightful. A
succession of hills of all forms, and of every shade of verdure, between
which valleys, now deep and umbrageous, now presenting broad, green,
sunny slopes to the eye, branched about in every direction; lofty forests
of incomparable beauty, among which the most magnificent fruit-trees,
such as the Indian walnut, the fawfel, and the amba, were interspersed,
small winding streams, now glancing and quivering and rippling in the
sun, and now plunging into the deep shades of the woods; while vast
flights of gay tropical birds were perched upon the branches, or skimming
over the waters; all these combined certainly formed a glorious picture,
and justified the admiration of Pietro when he exclaimed that nothing to
equal it had ever met his eye. On entering the Ghauts he perceived in
them some resemblance to the Apennines, though they were more beautiful;
and to enjoy so splendid a prospect he travelled part of the way on foot.
The Western Ghauts, which divide the vast plateau of Mysore from Malabar,
Canasen, and the other maritime provinces of the Deccan, are in most
parts covered with forests of prodigious grandeur, and in one of these
Pietro and his party were overtaken by the night. Though “overhead the
moon hung imminent, and shed her silver light,” not a ray could descend
to them through the impenetrable canopy of the wood, so that they were
compelled to kindle torches, notwithstanding which they failed to find
their way, and contented themselves with kindling a fire and passing the
night under a tree.

Ikery, the bourn beyond which they were not to proceed towards the
interior, was then an extensive but thinly-peopled city, though according
to the Hindoos it once contained a hundred thousand inhabitants. Around
it extended three lines of fortifications, of which the exterior was a
row of bamboos, thickly planted, and of enormous height, whose lifted
heads, with the beautiful flowering parasites which crept round their
stems to the summit, yielded a grateful shade. Here he beheld a suttee,
visited various temples, and saw the celebrated dancing girls of
Hindostan perform their graceful but voluptuous postures. He examined
likewise the ceremonial of the rajah’s court, and instituted numerous
inquiries into the religion and manners of the country, upon all which
points he obtained information curious enough for that age, but now,
from the more extensive and exact researches of later travellers, of
little value. Returning to the seacoast, he proceeded southward as far
as Calicut, the extreme point of his travels. Here he faced about, as it
were, turned his eyes towards home, and began to experience a desire to
be at rest. Still, at Cananou, at Salsette, and the other parts of India
at which he touched on his return, he continued assiduously to observe
and describe, though rather from habit than any delight which it afforded
him.

On the 15th of November, 1624, he embarked at Goa in a ship bound for
Muskat, from whence he proceeded up the Persian Gulf to Bassorah. Here he
hired mules and camels, and provided all things necessary for crossing
the desert; and on the 21st of May, 1625, departed, being accompanied by
an Italian friar, Marian, the Georgian girl, and the corpse of Maani.
During this journey he observed the sand in many places strewed with
seashells, bright and glittering as mother-of-pearl, and in others with
bitumen. Occasionally their road lay over extensive marshes, covered
thickly with reeds or brushwood, or white with salt; but at this season
of the year every thing was so dry that a spark falling from the pipe of
a muleteer upon the parched grass nearly produced a conflagration in the
desert. When they had advanced many days’ journey into the waste, and
beheld on all sides nothing but sand and sky, a troop of Arab robbers,
who came scouring along the desert upon their fleet barbs, attacked
and rifled their little caravan; and Della Valle saw himself about to
be deprived of his wife’s body, after having preserved it so long, and
conveyed it safely over so many seas and mountains. In this fear he
addressed himself to the banditti, describing the contents of the chest,
and the motives which urged him so vehemently to desire its preservation.
The Arabs were touched with compassion. The sight of the coffin,
enforcing the effect of his eloquence, interested their hearts; so that
not only did they respect the dead, and praise the affectionate and pious
motives of the traveller, but also narrowed their demands, for they
pretended to exact dues, not to rob, and allowed the caravan to proceed
with the greater part of its wealth.

On arriving at the port of Alexandretta another difficulty arose. The
Turks would never have allowed a corpse to pass through the custom-house,
nor would the sailors of the ship in which he desired to embark for
Cyprus on any account have suffered it to come on board. To overreach
both parties, Pietro had the body enveloped in bales of spun cotton, upon
which he paid the regular duty, and thus one further step was gained.
After visiting Cyprus, Malta, and Sicily, where he remained some short
time, he set sail for Naples. Here he found his old friend Schipano still
living, and after describing to him the various scenes and dangers
through which he had passed, moved forward towards Rome, where he arrived
on the 28th of March, 1626, after an absence of more than twelve years.

His return was no sooner made known in the city than numerous friends
and relations and the greater number of the nobility crowded to his
house, to bid him welcome and congratulate him upon the successful
termination of his travels. His presentation to the pope took place a few
days afterward, when Urban VIII. was so charmed with his conversation
and manners, that, without application or intrigue on the part of the
traveller, he was appointed his holiness’s honorary chamberlain,—a
compliment regarded at Rome as highly flattering. In order to induce the
pope to send out missionaries to Georgia, Pietro now presented him with
a short account of that country, which he had formerly written; and the
affair being seriously taken into consideration, it was determined by the
society _De Propaganda Fide_ that the proposed measure should be carried
into effect, and that Pietro should be regularly consulted respecting the
business of the Levant missions in general.

Early in the spring of 1627, he caused the funeral obsequies of his wife
to be celebrated with extraordinary magnificence in the church of Aracœli
at Rome. The funeral oration he himself pronounced; and when, after
describing the various circumstances of her life, and the happiness of
their union, he came to expatiate upon her beauty, his emotions became
so violent that tears and sobs choked his utterance, and he failed to
proceed. His auditors, according to some accounts, were likewise affected
even unto tears; while others relate that they burst into a fit of
laughter. If they did, the fault was in their own hearts; for, however
extravagant the manner of Della Valle may have been, death is a solemn
thing, and can never fail properly to affect all well-constituted minds.

However, though his love for Maani’s memory seems never to have abated,
the vanity of keeping up the illustrious name of Della Valle, and the
consequent wish of leaving a legitimate offspring behind him, reconciled
a second marriage to his mind, and Marian Tinatin, the Georgian girl whom
he had brought with him from the East, appears to have been the person
selected for his second wife. M. Eyriès asserts, but I know not upon what
authority, that it was a relation of Maani whom he married; but this
seems to be extremely improbable, since, so far as can be discovered from
his travels, no relation of hers ever accompanied him, excepting the
brother and sister who spent some time with him in Persia.

Though he had exhausted a large portion of his patrimony in his numerous
and long-continued journeys, sufficient seems to have remained to enable
him to spend the remainder of his life in splendour and affluence. He
had established himself in the mansion of his ancestors at Rome, and the
locomotive propensity having entirely deserted him, would probably never
have quitted the city, but that one day, while the pope was pronouncing
his solemn benediction in St. Peter’s, he had the misfortune to fall into
a violent passion, during which he killed his coachman in the area before
the church. This obliged him once more to fly to Naples; but murder not
being regarded as a very heinous offence at Rome, and the pope, moreover,
entertaining a warm friendship for Pietro, he was soon recalled. After
this nothing remarkable occurred to him until his death, which took place
on the 20th of April, 1652. Soon after his death, his widow retired to
Urbino; and his children, exhibiting a fierce and turbulent character,
were banished the city.

As a traveller, Della Valle possessed very distinguished qualities. He
was enthusiastic, romantic, enterprising. He had read, if not studied,
the histories of the various countries through which he afterward
travelled; and there were few dangers which he was not ready cheerfully
to encounter for the gratification of his curiosity. Gibbon complains
of his insupportable vanity and prolixity. With his vanity I should
never quarrel, as it only tends to render him the more agreeable: but
his prolixity is sometimes exceedingly tedious, particularly in those
rhetorical exordiums to his long letters, containing the praises of
his friend Schipano, and lamentations over the delays of the Asiatic
_post-office_. Nevertheless, it is impossible to peruse his works
without great instruction and delight; for his active, and vigorous, and
observant mind continually gives birth to sagacious and profound remarks;
and his adventures, though undoubtedly true, are full of interest and the
spirit of romance.




JEAN BAPTISTE TAVERNIER.

Born 1602.—Died 1685 or 1686.


The father of Tavernier was a map and chart maker of Antwerp in Brabant,
who removed with his family into France while our traveller was still in
his childhood. Though born of Protestant parents, some of his biographers
have imagined that Tavernier must have been a Catholic, at least in the
early part of his life, before his intercourse with the English and
Dutch had sapped the foundations of his faith, and left him without any!
But the truth appears to be, that although educated in the dominions of
a Catholic king, surrounded by priests, and within the hearing of the
mass-bells, he, as well as the rest of the family, one graceless nephew
excepted, always remained faithful to the Protestant cause. However this
may be, Tavernier, who was constantly surrounded by the maps of foreign
lands, and by persons who conversed of little else, very early conceived
the design of “seeing the world,” and being furnished with the necessary
funds by his parents or friends, commenced his long wanderings by a visit
to England, from whence he passed over into Flanders, in order to behold
his native city.

The rumour of the wars then about to burst forth in Germany kindled
the martial spirit in the mind of our youthful traveller, who, moving
through Frankfort and Augsburg towards Nuremburg, fell in with _Hans
Brenner_, a colonel of cavalry, son to the governor of Vienna, and was
easily prevailed upon to join his corps, then marching into Bohemia.
His adventures in these wars he himself considered unworthy of being
recorded. It is simply insinuated that he was present at the battle of
Prague, some time after which he became a page to the governor of Raab,
then viceroy of Hungary. In this situation he had remained four years and
a half, when the young Prince of Mantua arrived at Raab on his way to
Vienna, and with the consent of the viceroy took Tavernier along with him
in quality of interpreter.

This circumstance inspired him with the desire of visiting Italy; and
obtaining his dismissal from the viceroy, who, at parting, presented him
with a sword, a pair of pistols, a horse, and, what was of infinitely
greater consequence, a good purse filled with ducats, he entered as
interpreter into the service of M. de Sabran, the French envoy to the
emperor, and proceeded to Venice. From this city, which he compares with
Amsterdam, he removed in the train of M. de Sabran to Mantua, where he
remained during the siege of that place by the imperial troops. Here,
engaging with a small number of young men in a reconnoitring party, he
narrowly escaped death, only four out of eighteen returning, and having
been twice struck in the breast by a ball, which was repelled by the
goodness of his cuirass. Of this excellent piece of armour the Count de
Guiche, afterward Marshal de Grammont, disburdened him, considering the
superior value to France of his own patrician soul, and the comparative
unimportance of Tavernier’s life. These little accidents, which seem
to have aided in ripening his brain, curing him of his martial ardour,
he quitted Mantua, and having visited Loretta, Rome, Naples, and other
celebrated cities of Italy, returned to France.

These little excursions, which might have satisfied a less ardent
adventurer, only tended to strengthen his passion for locomotion. He
therefore immediately quitted Paris for Switzerland, whence, having
traversed the principal cantons, he again passed into Germany. Here
he remained but a very short time before he undertook a journey into
Poland, apparently for the purpose of beholding the splendid court of
King Sigismund. His curiosity on this point being gratified, he retraced
his footsteps, with the design of visiting the emperor’s court; but,
arriving near Glogau, he was diverted from his intention by meeting
accidently with the Colonel Butler who afterward killed the celebrated
Wallestein. With this gallant Scot and his wife he staid for some time;
but understanding that the coronation of Ferdinand III., as king of
the Romans, was about to take place at Ratisbon, Tavernier, for whom
the sight of pomp and splendour appears to have possessed irresistible
charms, quitted his new friends and patrons, and repaired to the scene of
action.

Upon the magnificence of this coronation it is unnecessary to dwell,
but a tragical circumstance which took place at Ratisbon, during the
preparations for it, is too illustrative of the manners and spirit of
the times to be passed over in silence. Among the numerous jewellers who
repaired upon this occasion to Ratisbon, there was a young man from
Frankfort, the only son of the richest merchant in Europe. The father,
who feared to hazard his jewels with his son upon the road, caused them
to be forwarded by a sure conveyance to his correspondent at that city,
with orders that as soon as the young man should arrive they should be
delivered up to him. Upon the arrival of the youth, the correspondent,
who was a Jew, informed him that he had received a coffer of jewels from
his father, which he would place in his hands as soon as he should think
proper. In the mean while he conducted him to a tavern, where they drank
and conversed until one o’clock in the morning. They then left the house,
and the Jew conducted the young man, who was apparently a stranger to
the city, through various by-streets, where there were few shops, and
few passers, and when they were in a spot convenient for the purpose he
stabbed his guest in the bowels, and left him extended in his blood upon
the pavement. He then returned home, and wrote to his friend at Frankfort
that his son had arrived in safety, and received the jewels. The murderer
had no sooner quitted his victim, however, than a soldier, who happened
to be passing that way, stumbled over the body, and feeling his hand wet
with blood, was startled, and alarming the watch, the body was taken
up, and carried to the very tavern where the young man and the Jew had
spent the evening. This led to the apprehension of the murderer, who,
strange to say, at once confessed his guilt. He was therefore condemned,
according to the laws of the empire, to be hung upon a gallows with his
head downwards, between two large dogs, which, in the rage and agonies of
hunger, might tear him to pieces and devour him. This tremendous sentence
was changed, however, at the intercession and by the costly presents of
the other Jews of Ratisbon, to another of shorter duration but scarcely
less terrible, which was, to have his flesh torn from his bones by
red-hot pincers, while boiling lead was poured into the wound, and to be
afterward broken alive upon the wheel.

When the punishment of the Jew and the coronation were over, Tavernier
began to turn his thoughts towards Turkey; and two French gentlemen
proceeding at this period to Constantinople on public business, he
obtained permission to accompany them, and set out through Hungary,
Servia, Bulgaria, and Romelia, to the shores of the Dardanelles. At
Constantinople he remained eleven months, during which time he undertook
several little excursions, among which was one to the plains of Troy;
but finding neither the pomp of courts nor the bustle of trade upon this
scene of ancient glory, he was grievously disappointed, and regarded
the time and money expended on the journey as so much loss. So little
poetical enthusiasm had he in his soul!

At length the caravan for Persia, for the departure of which he had
waited so long, set out, proceeding along the southern shore of the
Black Sea, a route little frequented by Europeans. On leaving Scutari
they travelled through fine plains covered with flowers, observing on
both sides of the road a number of noble tombs of a pyramidal shape. On
the evening of the second day the caravan halted at Gebre, the ancient
Libyssa, a place rendered celebrated by the tomb of Hannibal. From
this town they proceeded to Ismid, the ancient Nicomedia, where Sultan
Murad erected a palace commanding a beautiful prospect, on account of
the abundance of game, fruits, and wine found in the neighbourhood.
Continuing their route through a country abounding with wood, picturesque
hills, and rich valleys, they passed through Boli, the ancient
Flaviopolis, when they halted two days in order to feast upon the pigeons
of the vicinity which were as large as fowls. From thence they continued
their route through Tosia, Amasia, and Toket, to Arzroum, in Armenia,
where they remained several days. They then proceeded to Karo, thence to
Erivan, and thence, by Ardebil and Kashan, to Ispahan, where he arrived
in the year 1629.

Being destitute of a profession, and having, I know not how, picked up
some knowledge of precious stones, Tavernier became a jeweller in the
East. Where he first commenced this business, and what quantity of stock,
who furnished him with his capital, or with credit which might enable
him to dispense with it, are points upon which no information remains.
It is certain, however, that in this first visit to Persia several years
were spent, during which he traversed the richest and most remarkable
provinces of the empire, observing the country, and studying the manners,
but always conversing by means of an interpreter, not possessing the
talents necessary for the acquiring of foreign language. The history of
his six peregrinations into the East, as the events which marked them are
not of sufficient importance to require a minute description, I shall not
enter into other than generally, omitting all reference to his obscure
and confused chronology. However, finding that the trade in precious
stones, in which he had boldly engaged, promised to turn out a thriving
one, he very soon projected a voyage to India, for the purpose of
visiting the diamond-mines, and acquiring upon the spot all that species
of information which his business required.

In fulfilment of this design, he repaired to Gombroon, on the Persian
Gulf, where, finding a ship bound for Surat, he embarked for India.
On arriving at Surat, which at that period was a city of considerable
extent, surrounded by earthen fortifications, and defended by a miserable
fortress, he took up his residence with the Dutch, and commenced
business. His Indian speculations proving, as he had anticipated,
extremely profitable, his Persian expeditions always terminated by a
visit to Hindostan, during which he trafficked with the Mogul princes,
who, though no less desirous than himself of driving a hard bargain,
appear to have generally paid handsomely in the end for whatever they
purchased. Upon one occasion Shahest Khan, governor of Surat, having
made a considerable purchase from our merchant-traveller, determined
to make trial of his skill in the art of trade. “Will you,” said he,
“receive your money in gold or in silver rupees?”—“I will be guided by
your highness’s advice,” replied the traveller. The khan, who probably
expected an answer of this kind, immediately commanded the sum to be
counted out, reckoning the gold rupee as equivalent to fourteen rupees
and a half in silver, which, as Tavernier well knew, was half a rupee
more than its real value. However, as he hoped to make up for this loss
upon some future occasion, he made no objection at the time, but received
his money and retired. Two days afterward he returned to the khan,
pretending that after much negotiation, and many attempts to dispose
of his gold rupees at the rate at which he had received them, he had
discovered that at the present rate of exchange gold was equivalent to
no more than fourteen silver rupees, and that thus, upon the ninety-six
thousand rupees which he had received in gold, he should lose three
thousand four hundred and twenty-eight. Upon this the prince burst out
into a tremendous passion, and supposing it to be the Dutch broker who
had given this information, which he insisted was false, to our diamond
merchant, swore he would cause him to receive as many lashes as would
make up the pretended deficiency, and thus teach him to know the real
value of money. Tavernier, who, by this time, understood the proper
mode of proceeding with Asiatic princes, allowed the storm to blow over
before he ventured to reply; but observing the khan’s countenance growing
calm, and relaxing into a smile, he returned to the point, and humbly
requested to know whether he should return the gold rupees, or might hope
that his highness would make up the deficiency. At these words the khan
again looked at him steadfastly with an angry eye and without uttering a
syllable; but at length inquired whether he had brought along with him a
certain pearl which he had formerly shown. Tavernier drew it forth from
his bosom, and placed it in his hands. “Now,” said the khan, “let us
speak no more of the past. Tell me in one word the exact price of this
pearl.”—“Seven thousand rupees,” replied the traveller, who, however,
meant to have taken three thousand rather than break off the bargain. “If
I give thee five thousand,” returned the khan, “thou wilt be well repaid
for thy pretended loss upon the gold rupees. Come to-morrow, and thou
shalt receive the money. I wish thee to depart contented; and therefore
thou shalt receive a dress of honour and a horse.” Tavernier was content,
and having entreated his highness to send him a useful beast, since he
had far to travel, made the usual obeisance and took his leave.

Next day the kelât and the horse were sent. With the former, which was
really handsome and valuable, our traveller was well satisfied; and the
horse, which was decked with green velvet housings with silver fringe,
likewise seemed to answer his expectations. When, however, he was brought
into the court of the house, and a young Dutchman sprung upon his back
to try his mettle, he began to rear, and plunge, and kick in so powerful
a manner that he shook down the roof of a small shed which stood in the
yard, and put the life of his rider in imminent jeopardy. Observing this,
Tavernier commanded the animal to be returned to the prince; and when he
went to the palace in order to express his thanks and take his leave, he
related the whole circumstance, adding that he feared his highness had no
desire that he should execute the commission with which he had intrusted
him. Upon this the khan, who could not restrain his laughter during the
whole narration, commanded a large Persian horse, which had belonged to
his father, and when young had cost five thousand crowns, to be brought
forth ready saddled and bridled, and desired the traveller to mount at
once. Tavernier obeyed, and found that, although upwards of twenty-eight
years old, this horse was the finest pacer he had ever beheld. “Well,”
said the khan, “are you satisfied? This beast will not break your neck.”
In addition to this he presented him with a basket of Cashmere apples,
and a Persian melon, so exquisite that they were at least worth a hundred
rupees. The horse, old as he was, he afterward sold at Golconda for fifty
pounds sterling.

Having concluded his negotiations at Surat, he set out upon his journey
to the diamond-mines; and passing, among other towns, through Navapoor,
where he found the rice, which he regarded as the best in the world,
slightly scented with musk, and through Dowlutabad, one of the strongest
fortresses in Hindostan, arrived in about two months at Golconda. This
kingdom, which was then a powerful and independent state, contained an
abundance of fertile lands, numerous flocks and herds, and many small
lakes, which furnished inexhaustible supplies of fish. Baugnuggur, the
capital (the modern Hyderabad), vulgarly called Golconda, from the
fortress of that name in the vicinity, in which the king resided, was
then a city of recent construction; but nevertheless contained a number
of fine buildings, several admirable caravansaries, mosques, and pagodas,
and the streets, though unpaved, were broad and handsome. Upon the roof
of the palace were gardens, in which grew immense trees, yielding a
large and grateful shade, but menacing to crush the structure with their
weight. Here stood a pagoda, which, had it been completed, would not only
have been the largest in all India, but one of the boldest structures in
Asia, or perhaps in the world. The stones employed in this building were
all of very large dimensions; but there was one of such prodigious size
that it required five years to lift it out of the quarry, as many more to
draw it to the pagoda, and a carriage with fourteen hundred oxen! That a
temple commenced upon such a scale, and with such materials, should be
left unfinished, was not greatly to be wondered at; and accordingly it
was never completed.

The population of this city with its extensive suburbs, though not
exactly stated, must have been very considerable, since the number of
licensed courtesans amounted, as he was informed, to twenty thousand,
the majority of whom inhabited small huts, where by day they might
always be seen standing at the door, while a lamp or lighted candle
was placed by night to light the passenger to his ruin. The principal
of these women presented themselves every Friday before the king, as
was, according to Bernier, the custom likewise at Delhi, when, if his
majesty permitted, they exhibited their skill in dancing; but if he were
better employed they were commanded by the principal eunuch to retire.
These ladies, who were under the especial protection of the monarch,
appear to have been peculiarly devoted to their illustrious patron: for
when his majesty was upon one occasion returning to his capital from
Masulipatam, nine of these faithful servants contrived to imitate with
their bodies the form of an elephant; four enacting the legs, another
four the body, and one the proboscis; and, receiving their prince upon
their back, bore him in triumph into the city! Both sexes here possessed
a high degree of personal beauty; and, excepting the peasantry, who of
course were rendered somewhat swarthy by their exposure to the sun, were
distinguished for the fairness of their complexions.

Though he had undertaken this long journey expressly for the purpose
of visiting the diamond-mines, many persons, apparently, both here and
elsewhere, endeavoured to dissuade him from carrying his design into
execution, by fearful pictures of the mine districts, which, it was said,
could only be approached by the most dangerous roads, and were inhabited
by a rude and barbarous population. However, as he was never deterred by
the fear of danger from pursuing his plans, these representations were
ineffectual. The first mine which he visited was that of Raolconda, five
days’ journey distant from Golconda, and eight or nine from Beajapoor.
The country in the environs of Raolconda, where, according to the
traditions of the inhabitants, diamonds had been discovered upwards of
two hundred years, was a sandy waste, strewn with rocks, and broken by
chasms and precipices, like the environs of Fontainbleau. These rocks
were traversed by veins from half an inch to an inch in breadth, which
were hollowed out with small crooked bars of iron by the workmen, who put
the earth or sand thus scraped into vessels prepared for the purpose,
where, after the earth had been washed away, the diamonds were found.
Many of the gems obtained at this mine were flawed by the blows which
were necessary for splitting the hard rocks, and various were the arts
resorted to by the miners for concealing these defects. Sometimes they
cleaved the stones in two, at others they ground them into as many angles
as possible, or set them in a peculiar manner. Tavernier, who was a
shrewd merchant, soon discovered all their tricks, however; and, able as
they were at overreaching and driving bargains, succeeded in making an
immense fortune at their expense.

The workmen, who, although engaged in dragging forth these splendid
and costly toys from the bowels of the earth, earned but a miserable
pittance for their pains, sometimes conceived the idea of secreting
small diamonds; and, though rigidly watched, occasionally contrived to
swallow or conceal them within their eyelids, having no clothing whatever
except the cummerbund. When a foreign merchant arrived, one of the
banyans who rented the mines usually called upon him about ten or eleven
o’clock in the morning, bringing along with him a portion of the diamonds
which he might have for sale. These he generally deposited confidingly
in the foreigner’s hand, allowing him six or eight days to examine them
and determine upon the prices he would consent to give. The day for
bargaining being arrived, however, it was necessary to come without much
negotiation to the point; for if the foreigner hesitated, made many low
offers, or otherwise endeavoured to undervalue the merchandise, the
Hindoo very coolly wrapped up his gems in the corner of his garment,
turned upon his heel, and departed; nor could he ever be prevailed upon
to show the same jewels again, unless mixed with others.

The view of the ordinary diamond mart was singularly picturesque. It
was a large open space in the centre of the town, where you might every
morning see the sons of the principal merchants, from ten to fifteen
years old, sitting under a tree with their diamond balances and weights
in small bags under their arms; while others carried large bags of gold
pagodas. When any person appeared with diamonds for sale, he was referred
to the oldest of the lads, who was usually the chief of the company,
and transacted the business of the whole. This boy, having carefully
considered the water of the gem, handed it to the lad who stood nearest
him, who in like manner passed it to the next, and so on, until it had
made the circuit of the whole, without a word being spoken by any one. If
after all he should pay too dear for the diamond, the loss fell upon him
alone. In the evening they assorted the gems, and divided their gains;
the principal receiving one quarter per cent. more than the others.

The merchants of Raolconda were extremely obliging and polite towards
strangers. Upon the arrival of Tavernier, the governor, a Mohammedan, who
was likewise commander of the province, received him with much kindness,
and furnished him, in addition to the servants he had brought with him,
four trusty attendants, who were commanded to watch day and night over
his treasures. “You may now eat, drink, sleep, and take care of your
health,” said he; “you have nothing to fear; only take care not to make
any attempts to defraud the king.”

One evening, shortly after his arrival, our traveller was accosted
by a banyan of mean appearance, whose whole apparel consisted of the
miserable handkerchief which was tied about his head, and his girdle,
or cummerbund, who, after the usual salutation, sat himself down by his
side. Tavernier had long learned to pay but little attention to exteriors
in this class of people, since he had found that many of them whose
appearance denoted extreme poverty, and might have excited the charitable
feelings of the passer-by, nevertheless carried concealed about their
persons a collection of diamonds which those who pitied them would have
been extremely proud to possess. He therefore conducted himself politely
towards the banyan, who, after a few civilities had passed between them,
inquired through the interpreter whether he would like to purchase a few
rubies. Having replied that he should be glad to examine them, the banyan
drew forth from his girdle about twenty ruby rings, which our traveller
said were too small for his purpose, but that nevertheless he would
purchase one of them. As the merchant seemed to regard the attendance
of the governor’s servants as a restraint upon his actions, further
conversation was delayed until evening prayer should have called them to
the mosque; but three only attended to the muezzin’s summons, the fourth
remaining to enact the spy during their absence. Tavernier, however,
whom a long residence in the East had rendered politic, now suddenly
recollected that he was in want of bread; and the trusty Mohammedan being
despatched in quest of it, he was left alone with his interpreter and
the merchant. As soon as the spy was departed the Indian began to untie
his long hair, which, according to custom, he wore plaited in many a
fold upon the crown of his head, and as it parted and fell down upon his
shoulder, a tiny packet wrapped in a linen rag dropped out. This proved
to be a diamond of singular size and beauty, which Tavernier, when it was
put into his hands, regarded with the greatest interest and curiosity.
“You need not,” said the banyan, “amuse yourself with examining the stone
at present. To-morrow, if you will meet me alone at nine o’clock in the
morning, on the outside of the town, you may view it at your leisure.”
He then stated the exact price of his gem and departed. Tavernier, who
now coveted this stone with the eagerness and passion of a lover, did not
fail to repair to the spot at the appointed moment, with the necessary
sum of gold pagodas in his bag; and after considerable negotiation
succeeded in making it his own.

Three days after this fortunate purchase, while his heart was elate with
success, and flattered with self-congratulations, he received a letter
from Golconda which cast a shadow over his prospects. It came from the
person with whom he had intrusted his money, and informed him that on
the very day after he had received his trust he had been attacked with
dysentery, which, he doubted not, would speedily conduct him to the
grave. He therefore entreated Tavernier to hasten to the spot, in order
to take charge of his own property, which, he assured him, would now be
far from secure; that should he arrive in time, he would find it sealed
up in bags, and placed in a certain chamber; but that, as at furthest he
had but two days to live, not a moment ought to be lost. Not having as
yet completed his purchases, for he had still twenty thousand pagodas
unemployed, he was in some perplexity respecting the course he ought
to pursue; but as the danger was considerable, he at length resolved
to set out at once. It being imperative upon him, however, first to
pay the royal dues upon what he had bought, he immediately repaired
to the governor to perform this duty, and to take his leave. By this
man’s good offices he was enabled at once to employ the remainder of
his capital; which having done, he departed in all haste for Golconda,
with apprehensions of pillage in his mind, and a long journey before
him. To ensure his safety in the dominions of Beajapoor, the governor
of the mines had granted him a guard of six horsemen, and thus escorted
he pushed on rapidly. In due time he arrived at Golconda, and going
straight towards his golden _kėbleh_, found the chamber in which his
wealth had been deposited locked, and sealed with two seals, that of the
kadi, and that of the chief of the merchants, his correspondent having
been dead three days. His apprehension and alarm, he now found, had all
been needless; for upon proving his right to the money, which it was not
difficult for him to do, his property was restored to him without delay.

This sad affair being concluded, he set out upon his visit to the mines
of Colour, seven days’ journey east of Golconda, or Hyderabad. These were
situated upon a plain, flanked on one side by a river, and on the other
by lofty mountains, which swept round in the form of a half-moon. The
discovery of these mines was made by a peasant, who, turning up the soil
for the purpose of sowing millet, perceived a small pointed sparkling
stone at his feet, which he picked up, and carrying to Golconda, found
an honest merchant, who disclosed to him the value of his treasure. The
discovery was soon rumoured about; merchants and speculators crowded
to the spot, and gems of the most extraordinary magnitude and beauty,
the equal of which had never before been seen, were dug up out of the
earth of this plain, and among others that famous diamond of Aurungzebe,
which when rough weighed nine hundred carats. When they would judge of
the water of a diamond, the Hindoos of Colour placed a lamp in a small
aperture in a wall by night, and holding the stone between their fingers
in the stream of light thrown out by the lamp, thought they could thus
discern its beauties or defects more certainly than by day.

Upon his arrival at Colour upwards of sixty thousand persons, men, women,
and children, were at work upon the plain, the men being employed in
digging up the earth, and their wives and children in carrying it to
the spot where it was sifted for the jewels. Nevertheless, many of the
stones found here fell in pieces under the wheel; and a remarkably large
one, which was carried to Italy by a Jew, and valued at thirty thousand
piastres, burst into nine pieces while it was polishing at Venice.

The third mine, the most ancient in India, was situated near Sumbhulpoor,
in Gundwana, at that period included, according to Tavernier, in the
kingdom of Bengal. The diamonds were here found in the sands of the
Mahanuddy, near its confluence with the Hebe; but our traveller strangely
travesties the name of this river into _Gouel_, and, indeed, generally
makes such havoc with names that there is often much difficulty in
discovering what places are meant. However, when the great rains, which
usually took place in December, were over, the river was allowed the
whole month of January to clear, and shrink to its ordinary dimensions,
when large beds of sand were left uncovered. The inhabitants of
Sumbhulpoor, and of another small town in the vicinity, then issued
forth, to the number of eight thousand, and began to examine the
appearance of the sands. If they perceived upon any spot certain small
stones, resembling what are called thunder-stones in Europe, they
immediately concluded that there were gems concealed below; and having
enclosed a considerable space with poles and fascines, began to scoop up
the sand, and convey it to a place prepared for its reception upon the
shore. Hamilton and other modern authorities, however, observe, that the
diamonds are found in a matrix of red clay, which is washed down among
heaps of earth of the same colour from the neighbouring mountains, and
that in the sand of the same rivulets which contain the gems considerable
quantities of gold are likewise discovered.

I have here thrown together the result of several visits to the
diamond-mines, to avoid the necessity of returning again and again,
after the manner of our traveller himself, to the same spot; and shall
now accompany him through Surat to Agra and Delhi. Having returned to
Surat with his jewels, and advantageously disposed of a part of them in
that city, he departed with the remainder for the capital. At Baroche,
in Guzerat, he witnessed the astonishing performances of those jugglers
whose achievements have been the wonder of travellers from the days of
Megasthenes down to the present moment, and in a barbarous age might well
justify the faith of mankind in the powers of magic. The first feat they
performed was to make the chains with which their bodies were encircled
red-hot, by means of an immense fire which they had kindled, and the
touch of these they bore without shrinking, or seeming to feel any thing
beyond a slight inconvenience. They next took a small piece of wood,
and having planted it in the earth, demanded of one of the bystanders
what fruit they should cause it to produce. The company replied that
they wished to see _mangoes_. One of the jugglers then wrapped himself
in a sheet, and crouched down to the earth several times in succession.
Tavernier, whom all this diablerie delighted exceedingly, ascended to the
window of an upper chamber for the purpose of beholding more distinctly
the whole proceedings of the magician, and through a rent in the sheet
saw him cut himself under the arms with a razor, and rub the piece of
wood with his blood. Every time he rose from his crouching posture the
bit of wood grew visibly, and at the third time branches and buds sprang
out.—The tree, which had now attained the height of five or six feet,
was next covered with leaves, and then with flowers. At this instant an
English clergyman arrived: the performance taking place at the house of
one of our countrymen, and perceiving in what practices the jugglers
were engaged, commanded them instantly to desist, threatening the
whole of the Europeans present with exclusion from the holy communion
if they persisted in encouraging the diabolical arts of sorcerers and
magicians. The zeal of this hot-headed son of the church put a stop to
the exhibition, and prevented our traveller from beholding the crowning
miracle. The peacock, which is found in a state of nature in all parts of
Hindostan, was at that period peculiarly plentiful in the neighbourhood
of Cambay and Baroche, and its flesh when young was considered equal to
that of the turkey.—Being exceedingly wild and timid, it could only be
approached by night, when many curious arts were put in practice for
taking it.

The next considerable city at which he arrived was Ahmedabad, where,
during his stay a very extraordinary circumstance took place, which was
long the subject of wonder in that part of the country. Over the river
which flows by this city there was no bridge. The richer and more genteel
part of the population, however, passed the stream in large boats which
plied continually for passengers; but the peasantry, who grudged or
could ill afford the expense, swam over upon inflated goat-skins; and
when they happened to have their children with them they were put into
so many large earthen pots, which the swimmers pushed before them with
their hands. A peasant and his wife crossing the river in this manner,
with their only child in a pot before them, found about the middle of the
stream a small sandbank, upon which there was an old tree that had been
rolled down by the current. Here, being somewhat exhausted, they pushed
the pot towards the tree, in the hope of being able to rest a moment;
but before they had touched the bank a serpent sprang out from among the
roots, and in an instant glided into the pot to the child. Stupified
with fear and horror, the parents allowed the pot to float away with
the current, and having remained half-dead at the foot of the tree for
some time, found, upon the recovery of their senses, that their child
had either sunk in the stream, or floated Heaven only knew whither. The
little fellow in the pot and his serpent, however, sailed merrily down
the river together, and had already proceeded about two leagues towards
the sea, when a Hindoo and his wife, who were bathing upon the edge of
the stream, saw the child’s head peeping out of the pot. The husband,
prompted by humanity, immediately swam out, and overtaking the child in
his singular little nest, pushed it before him towards the shore. But no
sooner was the act performed than he found bitter cause to repent that
he had achieved it, for the serpent, which had harmlessly curled round
his little fellow-voyager down the current, now darted from the pot, and
winding itself round the body of the Hindoo’s child, immediately stung
it, and caused its death. Supposing that Providence had deprived them of
one child only to make way for another, they adopted the stranger, and
considered him as their own. But the strangeness of the event exciting
great astonishment in the country, the news at length reached the real
father of the child, who forthwith came and demanded his offspring. The
adoptive father resisting this demand, the affair was brought before
the king, who very properly adjudged the infant to its natural parent,
though, by saving its life, the other had certainly acquired some
claim to it, the more especially as by effecting his purpose he had
accidentally rendered himself childless.

On his arrival at Delhi, our traveller assiduously applied himself to
business, and having disposed of his jewelry to his satisfaction, partly
to the Great Mogul, and partly to his courtiers, repaired to court
to make his final obeisance to the monarch before his departure. The
emperor, who loved to exhibit his riches and magnificence to strangers,
particularly to those who were likely to be dazzled, and to render an
inflated account of them to the world, caused him to be informed that he
wished him to remain during the approaching festival in honour of his
birthday, when the annual ceremony of ascertaining the exact weight of
his royal person was to take place. It was now the 1st of November, and
the festival, which usually lasted five days, was to begin on the 4th;
but the preparations, which had been commenced on the 7th of September,
were now nearly completed, and all Delhi looked forward with joy to
the approaching rejoicings. The two spacious courts of the palace were
covered with lofty tents of crimson velvet, inwrought with gold; the
immense poles which sustained them, many of which were forty feet high,
and of the thickness of a ship’s mast, were cased with solid plates of
silver or gold. Around the first court, beneath a range of porticoes,
were numerous small chambers, destined for the omrahs on guard. Between
these, on the days of the festival, the spectators moved into the amkas,
or great hall of audience, which, together with the peacock throne, I
shall describe in the life of Bernier. The emperor, being seated upon his
throne, a troop of the most skilful dancing-girls was brought in, who,
with gestures and motions more voluptuous than the ancient performers of
the Chironomia ever practised, amused the imagination of the monarch and
his courtiers, and excited the amazement of foreigners at the licenses
of an Asiatic court. On both sides of the throne were fifteen horses,
with bridles and housings crusted with diamonds, rubies, pearls, and
emeralds, and held each by two men; and shortly after the commencement of
the ceremony, seven war-elephants, of the largest size, caparisoned in
the most gorgeous style, were led in one after the other, and caused to
make the circuit of the hall: when they came opposite the throne, each
in his turn made his obeisance to the sovereign, by thrice lowering his
trunk to the floor, and accompanying each movement by a loud and piercing
cry. This exhibition being concluded, the emperor arose, and retired with
three or four of the principal eunuchs into the harem. At an auspicious
moment during the festival, a large pair of scales was brought into the
amkas, the emperor’s weight was ascertained, and if greater than on the
preceding year, singular rejoicings and triumphant shouts took place;
but if, on the contrary, his majesty was found to be less unwieldy than
heretofore, the event was regarded with apprehension and sorrow.

Two or three days previous to the barometry of the mogul, our traveller
enjoyed the flattering privilege of beholding the imperial jewels.
Having been first admitted to an audience, he was led by one of the
principal courtiers into a small chamber contiguous to the hall of
audience, whither the unrivalled collection of gems was brought for his
inspection by four eunuchs. They were laid out like fruit in two large
wooden bowls, highly varnished, and exquisitely ornamented with delicate
golden foliage. They were then uncovered, counted over thrice, and as
many lists of them made out by three different scribes. Tavernier, who
viewed all these things with the eyes of a jeweller, rather than as a
traveller, curious to observe and examine, scrutinized them piece by
piece, descanting upon their mercantile value, and the modes of cutting
and polishing by which they might have been rendered more beautiful. In
this mood he feasted his eyes upon diamonds of incomparable magnitude
and lustre; upon chains of rubies, strings of orient pearls, amethysts,
opals, topazes, and emeralds, various in form, and each reflecting
additional light and beauty upon the other.

Having beheld these professional curiosities, he left the Mogul court,
and proceeded by the ordinary route towards Bengal. The Ganges, where he
crossed it, in company with Bernier, he found no larger than the Seine
opposite the Louvre, an insignificant stream which scarcely deserves the
name of a river. At Benares he observed the narrowest streets and the
loftiest houses which he had seen in Hindostan, a circumstance remarked
by all travellers, and among the rest by Heber, who says, “The houses
are mostly lofty; none, I think, less than two stories, most of three,
and several of five or six, a sight which I now for the first time saw
in India. The streets, like those of Chester, are considerably lower
than the ground floors of the houses, which have mostly arched rows in
front, with little shops behind them. Above these the houses are richly
embellished with verandahs, galleries, projecting oriel windows, and very
broad and overhanging coves, supported by carved brackets.” The opposite
sides of the streets stand so near to each other in many places that they
are united by galleries. The number of stone and brick houses in the city
are upwards of twelve thousand, of clay houses sixteen thousand; and
the population in 1803 considerably exceeded half a million. Benares,
according to the Brahmins, forms no part of the terrestrial globe, but
rests upon the thousand-headed serpent Anarta, or Eternity: or, according
to others, on the point of Siva’s trident, and hence no earthquakes are
ever felt there. The Great Lingam, or Phallies, of Benares, is said to
be a petrifaction of Siva himself; and the worship of this emblem of the
godhead so generally prevails here, that the city contains at least a
million images of the Lingam. This holy city, the Brahmins assure us, was
originally built of gold, but for the sins of mankind it was successively
degraded to stone, and brick, and clay.

From Benares he proceeded through Patna and Rajmahel to Daca, then a
flourishing city; whence, having disposed of numerous jewels to the
nawâb, he returned to Delhi.

To avoid repetitions and perplexing breaks in the narrative, I have paid
no attention to the date of his visits to this or that city; and, indeed,
so confused were his notes and his memory, that he does not seem to have
known very well himself during which of his journeys many events which
he relates took place. Into the particulars of his voyage to Ceylon,
Sumatra, and Java it is unnecessary to enter, more full and curious
accounts of those islands occurring in other travellers.

On his return to France from his fifth visit to the East, he married an
_ancient_ damsel, to borrow an epithet from Burke, merely from gratitude
to her father, who was a jeweller, and had rendered him several essential
services. After this he undertook one more journey into Asia, with
merchandise to the value of four hundred thousand livres, consisting
of curious clocks, crystal and agate vases, pearls, and other jewelry.
This expedition occupied him six years, during which he advanced farther
towards the east than he had hitherto done; and having in this and his
other journeys amassed considerable wealth, he returned with a splendid
assortment of diamonds to France, having been engaged upwards of forty
years in travelling. Disposing of these jewels advantageously to the
French king, who granted him a patent of nobility, he now conceived
that all his wanderings were at an end, and began to think of enjoying
the wealth he had purchased with so much time and toil and difficulty.
Experience, however, had not rendered him wise. Puffed up with the vanity
inspired by his patent of nobility, his whole soul was now wrapped up
in visions of luxury and magnificence. He rented a splendid house, set
up a carriage, and hired a number of valets. The nobility, who no doubt
devoured his adventures and his dinners with equal greediness, flocked
about him, invited, caressed, flattered, and ruined him.

    Live like yourself was now my lady’s word!

He was prevailed upon by some of his noble friends, who supposed him
to be possessed of the wealth of Crœsus, to purchase a baronial castle
and estate near Lyons, the repairs of which, united with the absurd
expenses of his household, quickly threatened to plunge him into the
poverty and obscurity from which he originally rose. To accelerate this
unhappy catastrophe, undoubtedly owing principally to his own folly, his
nephew, to whose management he had intrusted a valuable venture in the
hope of retrieving his shattered fortune, proved dishonest, married,
and remained in the East, appropriating to his own use the property of
his uncle. To increase the consternation caused in his family by these
private calamities, it was rumoured that the edict of Nantes was about to
be revoked, which induced him immediately to dispose of his estate, and
prepare to emigrate with the great body of the Protestants out of France.
Time for proper negotiations not being allowed, the barony was sold
for considerably less than it had cost him; and every thing now going
unprosperously with our noble jeweller, his family retired to Berlin,
while he repaired, in an obscure manner, to Paris, in quest of funds for
another journey into the East.

Tavernier was now in his eighty-third year, broken in spirits, ruined in
fortune, and bending beneath the effects of age; but his courage had not
forsaken him. He succeeded by dint of great exertions in getting together
a considerable venture, and departed for Hindostan by way of Russia and
Tartary. That he arrived safely at Moscow is tolerably certain; but in
this city we lose sight of him; some writers affirming that he died
there, while others more confidently assert, that having spent some
time at this ancient capital of Russia, he continued his journey, and
embarked with his merchandise in a bark upon the Volga, with the design
of descending that river to the Caspian Sea. Whether this wretched bark
foundered in the stream, or, which is more probable, was plundered, and
its crew and passengers massacred by the Tartars, is what has never been
ascertained. At all events, Tavernier here disappears, for no tidings of
him ever reached France from that time. He is supposed to have died in
1685, or 1686.

His works have gone through several editions, and may be consulted
with advantage by the students of Asiatic manners, though the style,
which is that of some miserable compiler whom he employed to digest his
rough memoirs, be intolerably bald and enervate; while the method and
arrangement are, perhaps, the worst that could have been adopted. Had he
contented himself with the simple form of a journal, narrating events
as they occurred, and describing things as they presented themselves to
his notice, he could not have been more prolix, and would undoubtedly
have rendered his work more agreeable and useful. As a traveller, he
is undoubtedly entitled to the praise of enterprise and perseverance;
no dangers appalled, no misfortunes depressed him; but his remarks are
always rather the remarks of a trader than of a traveller. Wealth was
his grand object; knowledge and fame things of secondary consideration.
The former, however, he gained and lost; his reputation, though far less
brilliant than that of many other travellers, remains to him, and will
long remain a monument of what can be effected by persevering mediocrity.




FRANÇOIS BERNIER.

Born about 1624.—Died 1688.


This distinguished traveller was born at Angers about the year 1624.
Though educated for the medical profession, and actuated in an
extraordinary manner by that ardour for philosophical speculation
which pervaded his literary contemporaries, the passion for travelling
prevailed over every other; so that, having prepared himself by severe
study for visiting distant countries with advantage, and taken his
doctor’s degree at Montpellier, he departed from France in the year 1654,
and passed over into Syria. From thence he proceeded to Egypt, where
he remained upwards of a year. In this country he assiduously occupied
himself in inquiries respecting the sources of the Nile, the time and
manner of its rise, the causes and nature of the plague, and the fall
of that dew which is said to deprive its virus of all activity. Being
at Rosetta eight or ten days after this dew had shed its mysterious
moisture over the earth, he had an opportunity, which had like to have
cost him dear, of discovering the absurdity of the popular belief upon
this subject. He was at supper with a party of friends at the house of M.
Bermon, vice-consul of France, when three persons were suddenly stricken
with the plague. Of these, two died in the course of eight days; and the
third, who was M. Bermon himself, seemed likely to follow their example,
when our medical traveller undertook the treatment of his disease. What
medicines he administered to his patient he has not stated, but he
lanced the pestiferous pustules which rose upon the skin; and either by
performing this operation, or by inhaling the infected atmosphere of the
sick chamber, himself caught the infection. The patient now recovered,
while the physician in turn became the prey of disease. When Bernier
perceived himself to be in the plague, the first step he took was to
swallow an emetic of butter of antimony, which, together with the natural
force of his constitution, subdued the disorder, and enabled him in the
course of three or four days to resume his ordinary pursuits. He was,
perhaps, somewhat indebted to his Bedouin attendant for the preservation
of his cheerfulness and tranquillity during his illness. This man,
relying, or appearing to rely, upon the doctrine of predestination, in
order to cheer and encourage him, by showing him how lightly he thought
of the matter, used daily to eat the remainder of the food which his sick
master had touched.

Having satisfied his curiosity respecting Egypt, and visited Mount
Sinai and the neighbouring deserts, he proceeded to Suez, and embarked
in an Arab vessel for Jidda. The Turkish bey, then governor of this
post, had deluded him with the hope of being able to visit Mecca and
the Kaaba, places interdicted to all Christians; but having waited
for this permission thirty-four days, and perceiving no likelihood of
obtaining it, he again embarked; and sailing for fifteen days along the
coast of Arabia Felix, or Yeman, arrived at Mokha, near the straits of
Babelmandel. During his stay in this city, he partook of the hospitality
of Murad, an Armenian Christian, and a native of Aleppo, but who had
settled in Abyssinia, whence he was now come into Arabia with a number
of black slaves to be disposed of for the benefit of the Abyssinian
king, from whom he likewise bore the customary annual present which that
august monarch made to the English and Dutch East India companies, in
the hope of receiving one of greater value in return. With the proceeds
of the slaves Indian merchandise was purchased; so that in exchange
for a few useless subjects, his Abyssinian majesty annually received a
large quantity of fine muslins, spices, and diamonds. With this honest
Armenian merchant our traveller had a very characteristic transaction,
which, although it happened some time after the visit to Mokha, may very
well come in here. Murad, it seems, in addition to his Aleppine wife,
maintained a harem of Nubian or Abyssinian girls, by one of whom he had
a son, who to the pure black complexion of his mother united the fine
handsome features peculiar to the Caucasian race. This noble little
fellow Murad, who was desirous of turning the produce of his harem to
account, offered to sell M. Bernier for fifty rupees; but observing that
his guest was extremely anxious to possess the prize, he suddenly changed
his mind, and refused to part with his darling son for less than three
hundred rupees. At this strange instance of rapacity our traveller became
offended, and broke off the negotiation; though, as he tells us, he was
peculiarly desirous of concluding the bargain, as much for the sake of
the boy as for the purpose of seeing a father sell his own child. There
seems, however, to be some reason for suspecting that the Armenian was
not quite so nearly related to the boy as he pretended, his paternity
being in all probability feigned, for the purpose of enhancing the price
of his little slave.

From Mokha it was Bernier’s intention to have crossed the Red Sea to the
island of Mesowa and Arkiko, from whence he expected an easy passage
might be obtained into the country of Habesh or Abyssinia. To dissuade
him from his purpose, however, Murad and others, who might, perhaps, have
had some sinister motives for their conduct, assured him, that since the
expulsion of the Jesuits, effected by the intrigues of the queen-mother,
no Roman Catholic was secure in the country, where a poor Capuchin
friar, who attempted to enter it by way of Snakin, had recently lost his
head. These and other considerations turned the current of his ideas. He
abandoned Africa, and, embarking on board of an Indian ship bound for
Surat, sought the shores of Hindostan.

On the arrival of our traveller in India, those fratricidal wars between
the sons of Shah Johan, which terminated with the dethronement of the
aged emperor and the accession of Aurungzebe to the throne of Delhi,
had already commenced, and confusion, terror, and anarchy prevailed
throughout the empire. Nevertheless Bernier hastened to the capital,
where, finding that partly by robbery, partly by the ordinary expenses of
travelling, his finances had been reduced to a very low ebb, he contrived
to be appointed one of the physicians to the Great Mogul.

About twelve months before Bernier’s appointment to this office, the
emperor, who, though upwards of seventy, was immoderately addicted to
the excesses of the harem, had become grievously ill from that disorder,
it is supposed, which cut off untimely the chivalrous rival of the
Emperor Charles V. His four sons imagining, and all, indeed, excepting
the eldest, ardently desiring, that he might be drawing near his end,
had at once rushed to arms, and with powerful armaments collected in
their various subahs, or governments, had advanced towards the capital,
each animated by the hope of opening himself a way to _musnud_ through
the hearts of his brethren. Their battles, negotiations, intrigues, and
mutual treachery, though related in a vivid and energetic manner by
Bernier, can find no place in this narrative. Aurungzebe, having defeated
and put to flight the Rajah Jesswunt Singh, was now advancing towards the
capital, when his eldest brother, Dara, incensed at his audacity, and
naturally impatient of delay, advanced with the imperial army towards the
Chumbul and that range of mountain passes which extends between the Jumna
and Guzerat. Here a battle was fought, in which Aurungzebe was victor.
Dara, with the wretched remnant of his forces, fled towards Ahmedabad,
the ancient Mohammedan capital of Guzerat. In this miserable plight he
was met by Bernier, whom the prince, who had known him at Delhi, and had
now no medical attendant, compelled to follow in his train. In the East
misfortune is singularly efficacious in thinning the ranks of a prince’s
retinue. Dara was now accompanied by little more than two thousand men,
and this number, moreover, was daily diminished by the peasantry of
the country, a wild and savage race, who hung upon his rear, pillaging
and murdering all those who lagged for a moment behind the body of the
army. It was now the midst of summer; the heat was tremendous; and the
fugitives, without baggage or tents, had to make their way over the naked
sandy plains of Ajmere, by day exposed to the intolerable rays of the
sun, and by night to the dews and chilling blasts which sometimes issue
from the northern mountains. However, the prince and his followers pushed
on rapidly, and now began to entertain some hopes of safety, having
approached to within one day’s journey of Ahmedabad, the governor of
which had been promoted to the post by Dara himself. But the emissaries
and the gold of Aurungzebe had already done their work at Ahmedabad. The
treacherous governor, on hearing of the near approach of the prince,
wrote to prohibit his drawing nearer the city, informing him that if he
persisted he would find the gates shut, and the people in arms against
him. On the evening before this news was brought to him, Dara had taken
refuge with his harem in a caravansary, into which, in spite of the
natural aversion of all orientals to introduce strangers among the women
of their anderûn, he kindly invited Bernier, apprehending lest the
sanguinary peasantry should beat out his brains in the darkness. Here it
was melancholy to see the shifts to which this unfortunate prince was
driven to have recourse for the preserving, even in this last extremity,
of the dignity of his harem; for, possessing neither tent nor any other
effectual covering, he caused a few slight screens to be fixed up, in
order to maintain some semblance of seclusion, and these were kept steady
by being tied to the wheels of Bernier’s wagon.

Meanwhile, as the determination of the governor of Ahmedabad was not
yet known, the most intense anxiety prevailed among the fugitives.
Every gust which moaned along the surrounding waste appeared to their
half-slumbering senses to announce the approach of some messenger.
The hours, which seem to flit away so rapidly when men are happy, now
appeared so many ages. Time and the wheeling stars above their heads
seemed to stand still; and their very souls were sick with expectation.
At length, as the red dawn began to appear in the east, a single horseman
was discovered scouring across the plain. His tidings from Ahmedabad were
such as have been related above. Upon hearing this dreadful intelligence,
the ladies of the harem, who had hitherto consoled themselves with the
hope of tasting a little repose in that city, which had become a kind of
land of promise in their eyes, gave themselves up wholly to despair, and
tears, sobs, and the most passionate lamentations burst unrestrainedly
forth, and brought tears into the eyes of many not much used to weeping.
Every thing was now thrown into the utmost trouble and confusion. Each
person looked at the face of his neighbour, in the hope of discovering
some ray of consolation, some sign of counsel, fore-thought, or
magnanimity. But all was blank. Not a soul could advise any thing for
the general safety, or knew how to avert the doom which impended over
himself. Presently, however, Dara, half-dead with grief, came out to his
people, and addressed himself now to one person, now to another, even to
the meanest soldier. He perceived that terror had seized upon every soul,
and that they were all about to abandon him. What was to be his fate?
Whither could he fly? It was necessary to depart instantly. The condition
of the army may be conjectured from that of our traveller. The wagon in
which he travelled had been drawn by three large Guzerat oxen, one of
which had died on the previous day from fatigue, another was now dying,
and the third was wholly unable to move. Nevertheless, the prince, who
stood in need of his aid both for himself and for one of his wives, who
had been wounded in the leg, found it absolutely impossible to procure
either horse, ox, or camel for his use, and was therefore compelled
to leave him behind. Bernier saw him depart with tears in his eyes,
accompanied at most by four or five horsemen, and two elephants said to
be loaded with silver and gold. He struck off towards Tettabakar, through
pathless deserts of sand, where, for the most part, not a drop of water
was to be found; and though, as afterward appeared, he actually succeeded
in reaching the point of destination, several of his followers, and,
indeed, many of his harem, died by the way of thirst or fatigue, or were
murdered by the banditti.

Bernier, being thus abandoned by the ill-fated prince, in a country
overrun with robbers, was at a loss what course to pursue. The
circumstances of the moment, however, left him no time for deliberation;
for no sooner had Dara and his train disappeared than our traveller’s
wagon was surrounded by the banditti, who forthwith commenced the
work of plunder. Fortunately, his servant and driver preserved their
presence of mind, and, addressing themselves to the marauders, began to
inquire whether they would thus pillage the effects of a man who was the
first physician in the world, and had already been deprived of the most
valuable part of his property by the satellites of Dara. At the mention
of the word _physician_ these fierce banditti, who, like all barbarians,
entertained a kind of innate reverence for the children of Esculapius,
were rendered as mild as gazelles, and their hostile intentions were
changed into friendship. They now regarded this second Pæon as their
guest, and, having detained him seven or eight days, kindly furnished
him with an ox to draw his wagon, and served him as guides and guards
until the towers of Ahmedabad appeared in sight. At this city he remained
several days, when an emir, returning thence to Delhi, afforded him the
protection of his authority, and enabled him to perform the journey with
safety. The road over which they travelled exhibited numerous traces of
the calamities of the times, being strewed at intervals with the dead
bodies of men, elephants, camels, horses, and oxen, the wrecks of the
wretched army of Dara.

Aurungzebe, having outwitted and imprisoned his father, was now in
possession of Delhi and the imperial throne, and exerted all the force
of his versatile and subtle genius to gain possession of the persons of
his enemies. Dara, the principal of these, was soon afterward betrayed
into his hands, and brought to Delhi upon an elephant, bound hand and
foot, with an executioner behind him, who upon the least movement was to
cut off his head. When he arrived at the gate of the city, Aurungzebe
began to deliberate whether it would be altogether safe, under present
circumstances, to parade him in this style through the streets,
considering the affection which the people had always borne him; but
it was at length determined to hazard the step, for the purpose of
convincing those who admired him of his utter fall, and of the consequent
extinction of their hopes. His rich garments, his jewelled turban, his
magnificent necklace of pearls, had been taken from him, and a dirty and
miserable dress, such as would have suited some poor groom, bestowed in
their stead; and thus habited, and mounted with his little son upon a
poor half-starved elephant, he was led through the streets, lanes, and
bazaars of the capital, that the people might behold the fortune of their
favourite, and despair of his ever rising again. Expecting that some
strange revolution or horrible slaughter would inevitably ensue, Bernier
had repaired on horseback, with a small party of friends and two stout
servants, to the grand bazaar, where the most prodigious crowds were
assembled, in order to witness whatever might take place; but although
the multitude burst into tears at the sight, and overwhelmed the wretch
who had betrayed him, and was then on horseback by his side, with the
most dire imprecations, not a sword was drawn, or a drop of blood spilt.

During the course of these public events Bernier became physician to
Danekmand Khan, the favourite of Aurungzebe. Upon this appointment, he
seems to have been introduced at court, and presented to the emperor;
upon which occasion he kissed the hem of the imperial garment, and
offered, for so custom ordered, eight rupees as a gift to the richest
sovereign upon earth. He was now perfectly at his ease, enjoying,
besides a liberal salary, which seems to have answered all his wishes,
the friendship of the khan, a learned, inquisitive, and generous-minded
man, who devoted those hours which others spent in debauchery to the
discussion of philosophical questions, and conversations on the merits
of Descartes and Gassendi. By the favour of this nobleman the entry to
the palace was open to him on all public occasions. He witnessed the
audience of foreign ambassadors, the pomp of the imperial banquets, and
was admitted, under certain circumstances, into the recesses of the harem.

Upon the termination of the civil wars, the Usbecks of Balkh and
Samarcand, who, having formerly offered a grievous insult to Aurungzebe
when he seemed little likely to ascend the imperial _musnud_, had now
some reason to apprehend the effects of his resentment, despatched
ambassadors to congratulate him upon his accession to the throne, and to
make him a tender of their services. When these barbarians were admitted
to an audience, Bernier, according to custom, was present. Being admitted
into the imperial chamber, they made, while yet at a considerable
distance from the throne, their salām to the emperor, after the Indian
manner. This ceremony consisted in thrice placing the hand upon the head,
and as frequently lowering it to the earth; after which they advanced
so near the throne that, had he chosen to do so, the emperor might have
taken their letters from their own hands; but this compliment he did not
condescend to pay them, ordering one of his emirs to receive and present
them to him. Having perused these letters with a serious air, he caused
each of the ambassadors to be presented with a robe of brocade, a turban,
and a scarf or girdle of embroidered silk. The presents were then brought
forward. They consisted of several boxes of lapis lazuli, a number of
long-haired camels, several magnificent Tartarian horses, with many
camel-loads of fresh fruit, such as apples, pears, grapes, and melons,
articles which their country usually furnished for the Delhi market, and
an equal quantity of dried fruits, as Bokham prunes, Kishmish apricots
or grapes without stones, and two other species of fine large grapes.
Aurungzebe bestowed high commendations upon each article as it was
presented, praised the generosity of the khans, and having made some few
inquiries respecting the academy of Samarcand, dismissed the ambassadors
with the complimentary wish that he might see them frequently.

These honest men, who were exceedingly pleased at their reception, were
nevertheless constrained to wait four months at Delhi before they could
obtain their dismissal; during which time they all fell sick, and many of
them died, rather, according to Bernier, from the bad quality of their
food, and their contempt of cleanliness, than from the effect of the
climate. Judging from this specimen, our traveller pronounced the Usbecks
the most avaricious and sordid people upon earth; for, though furnished
by the emperor with the means of living, they preferred defrauding their
stomachs and hazarding their lives, to the idea of parting with their
gold, and subsisted in a very wretched and mean style. When dismissed,
however, they were treated with great distinction. The emperor and all
his emirs presented them with rich dresses and eight thousand rupees
each; together with splendid robes, a large quantity of exquisitely
flowered brocade, bales of fine muslin, and of silk striped with gold or
silver, and a number of carpets and two jewelled khaudjars, or poniards,
for their masters.

In the hope of learning something respecting their country, Bernier
frequently visited them during their stay, but found them so grossly
ignorant that they were unable to make any important additions to his
knowledge. They invited him to dinner, however, and thus afforded his
curiosity a glance at their domestic manners. Among them a stranger, as
might be expected, was not overwhelmed with ceremony, and so far they
were polite. The viands, which our traveller considered extraordinary,
consisted of excellent horse-flesh, a very good ragout, and an abundance
of pilau, which his robust hosts found so much to their taste, that
during the repast they could not snatch a single moment to waste on
conversation. Their guest, with infinite good taste, imitated their
example, made a hearty dinner; and then, when the horse-flesh, pilau, and
all had been devoured, they found their tongue, and entertained him with
panegyrics upon their own skill in archery, and the amazonian prowess and
ferocity of their women. In illustration of the latter, they related an
anecdote which, as highly characteristic, may be worth repeating. When
Aurungzebe formerly led an army against the khan of Samarcand, a party
of twenty or thirty Hindoo horsemen attacked a small village, which they
plundered, and were engaged in binding a number of the inhabitants whom
they intended to dispose of as slaves, when an old woman came up to
them and said, “My children, be not so cruel. My daughter, who is not
greatly addicted to mercy, will be here presently. Retire, if you are
wise. Should she meet with you, you are undone.” The soldiers, however,
not only laughed at the old woman and her counsel, but seized and tied
her also. They had not proceeded above half a league with their booty,
when their aged prisoner, who never ceased turning her eyes towards the
village, uttered a scream of joy, for by the cloud of dust which she
beheld rising on the plain she knew her daughter was advancing to the
rescue. On turning round, the soldiers beheld the amazon mounted on a
fiery war-horse, with her bow and quiver by her side. She now raised
her stentorian voice, and commanded them as they valued their lives
to release their prisoners, and carry back whatever they had taken to
the village, in which case she would spare them. But they regarded her
menaces no more than they had those of her mother. When three or four of
the party, however, had felt the point of her arrows in their heart, and
were stretched upon the earth, they began to be a little more alarmed,
and had recourse to their own bows. But all their arrows fell short of
the mark, while her powerful bow and arm sent every weapon home, so that
she quickly despatched the greater number of her enemies, and having
dispersed and terrified the remainder, rushed upon them sabre in hand,
and hewed them to pieces.

During the number of years which Bernier spent in Hindostan in a
position peculiarly favourable to observation, he possessed ample
leisure for correcting and maturing his opinions. His views, therefore,
are entitled to the highest respect, the more especially as no trait
of gasconading is visible in his character, and no touch of rhetorical
flourishing in his style. His countrymen, in general, assuming Paris as
the standard of whatever is noble or beautiful in architecture, describe
every thing which differs from their type as inferior; but Bernier,
whom philosophy had delivered from this paltry nationality, without
depreciating the capital of his own country, observes, that whatever
might be its beauties, they would be but so many defects could the city
be transported to the plains of Hindostan, the climate requiring other
modes of building, and different arrangements. Delhi was, in fact, a
magnificent city in his times. Whatever Asia could furnish of barbaric
pomp or gorgeous show was there collected together, and disposed with as
much taste as Mongol or Persian art could give birth to. Domes of vast
circumference and fantastic swell crowned the summits of the mosques,
and towered aloft above the other structures of the city; palaces, cool,
airy, grotesque, with twisted pillars, balustrades of silver, and roofs
of fretted gold; elephants moving their awkward and cumbrous bulk to
and fro, disguised in glittering housings, and surmounted with golden
houdahs; and gardens, shaded and perfumed by all the most splendid trees
and sweetest flowers of Asia: such were the principal features of Delhi.

Our traveller did not at first relish the Mussulman music, its loud
ear-piercing tones being too powerful for his tympanum. By degrees,
however, their hautboys of a fathom and a half in length, and their
cymbals of copper or iron not less than a fathom in circumference, which
appeared to make the very earth tremble with their tremendous clangour,
became familiar to his ear, and seemed delightfully musical, particularly
at night, when he lay awake in his lofty bedchamber, and heard their
loud symphonies from a distance. In a range of turrets within the
palace, before which this martial music was daily heard, was situated
the harem, or seraglio, as it was termed by Europeans in those days.
This mysterious part of the palace Bernier traversed but did not see,
having been called in to prescribe for a great lady of the court, but
conducted by a eunuch blindfold, or with a cashmere shawl thrown over
his head and descending to his feet, through the various chambers and
passages. He learned, however, from the eunuchs, that the harem contained
very noble apartments, each of which was furnished with its reservoir
of running water, and opened upon gardens, with covered walks, dusky
bowers, grottoes, streams, fountains, and immense caves, into which the
ladies retired during the heat of the day. Thus the inconveniences of the
climate were never felt in this secluded paradise. The most delightful
portion of this part of the palace, according to the eunuchs, was a small
tower covered with plates of gold, and glittering on the inside with
azure, gold, mirrors, and the richest and most exquisite pictures. It
overlooked the Jumna, and thence the ladies could enjoy a fine prospect
and the coolest air.

Though by no means liable to be dazzled by pompous exhibitions, Bernier
could not refuse his admiration to the Great Mogul’s hall of audience,
and the splendour of the peacock throne. In fact, the appearance of
this hall upon one of the principal Mohammedan festivals he considered
one of the most remarkable things which he saw during his travels. Upon
entering the spacious and lofty saloon the first object which met the
eye was the emperor himself seated upon his throne, and attired in the
most magnificent and gorgeous style of the East. His robe was composed
of white satin with small flowers, relieved by a rich border of silk and
gold; his turban, of stiff cloth of gold, was adorned with an aigrette,
the stem of which was crusted with diamonds of prodigious size and
value, in the midst of which a large oriental topaz of unparalleled
beauty blazed like a mimic sun; while a string of large pearls fell from
his neck upon his bosom, like the beads of a devotee. The throne was
supported upon six large feet of massive gold, set with rubies, emeralds,
and diamonds. But its principal ornament were two peacocks, whose
feathers were imitated by a crust of pearls and jewels. The real value
of this throne could not be exactly ascertained, but it was estimated
at four azores, or forty millions of rupees.—At the foot of the throne
stood all the numerous emirs or princes of the court, magnificently
apparelled, with a canopy of brocade with golden fringe overhead, and all
round a balustrade of massive silver, to separate them from the crowd of
ordinary mortals, who took their station without. The whole riches of the
empire seemed collected there in one heap, for the purpose of dazzling
and astonishing the crowd. The pillars of the saloon were hung round with
brocade with a gold ground, and the whole of the end near the throne was
shaded with canopies of flowered satin, attached with silken cords and
nets of gold. Upon the floor immense silken carpets, of singular fineness
and beauty, were spread for the feet of the courtiers. In short, wherever
the eye could turn, the heart and secret thoughts of the assembly not
being visible, its glances alighted upon a blaze of grandeur, above,
around, below, until the aching sight would gladly have sought repose
among the serener and more soothing beauties of external nature.

In the several visits which Bernier made to Agra, the object which
principally attracted his attention was the celebrated taj, or tomb, of
Nourmahal, the favourite wife of Shah Jehan, which he considered far
more worthy than the pyramids to be enumerated among the wonders of the
world. Leaving the city and proceeding towards the east, through a long,
broad street, running between lofty garden-walls and fine new houses, he
entered the imperial gardens. Here numerous structures, varying in their
forms, yet all possessing their peculiar beauties, courted observation;
but the enormous dome of the mausoleum, rising like the moon “inter
minora sidera,” immediately absorbed all his attention. To the right and
left dim covered walks and parterres of flowers yielded soft glimpses of
shadow and a breeze of perfume as he moved along. At length he arrived in
front of the building. In the centre rose a vast dome, which, together
with the tall, slender minarets on both sides of it, was supported by a
range of beautiful arches, partly closed up by a wall, and partly open.
The façade of the structure consisted entirely of marble, white like
alabaster; and in the centre of the closed arches were tablets of the
same material, thickly inlaid with verses from the Koran, wrought in
black marble. The interior of the dome was bordered, like the exterior,
with white marble, thickly inlaid with jasper, cornelian, and lapis
lazuli, delicately disposed in the form of flowers and other beautiful
objects. The pavement was formed of alternate squares of black and white
marble, disposed with singular art, and producing the finest effect
imaginable upon the eye.

In the month of December, 1663, Aurungzebe, attended by his whole
court, and an army of ten thousand foot and thirty-five thousand horse,
undertook a journey into Cashmere, in the pleasures of which, through the
favour of Danekmend Khan, Bernier was allowed to partake. Keeping as long
as possible near the banks of the Jumna, in order to enjoy by the way
the pleasures of the chase, and the salubrious waters of the river, the
army proceeded towards its place of destination by the way of Lahere. The
style of travelling adopted by the Great Mogul was perfectly unique. Two
sets of tents numerous and spacious enough to contain the whole of the
imperial retinue were provided, and of these one set was sent forward,
previous to the emperor’s setting out, to the spot marked out for the
first halting-place. Here the ground was levelled by the pioneers,
the tents pitched, and every convenience provided which the luxurious
effeminacy of oriental courtiers, and more particularly of the fretful
and capricious inmates of the harem, could require. When the emperor
arrived at his camp, a fresh body of pioneers and labourers proceeded
with the second set of tents, which they pitched and prepared in like
manner; and thus a kind of city, with all its luxuries and conveniences,
perpetually moved in advance of the prince, and became stationary
whenever and wherever he required it.

During the journey Aurungzebe generally travelled in a species of small
turret or houdah, mounted on the back of an elephant. In fine weather
this houdah was open on all sides, that the inmate might enjoy the cool
breeze from whatever quarter of the heavens it might blow; but when
storms or showers came on, he closed his casements, and reclined upon his
couch, defended from all the inclemencies of the weather as completely
as in the apartments of his palace. Ranchenara Begum, the sister of the
emperor, and the other great ladies of the harem, travelled in the same
kind of moving palace, mounted upon camels or elephants, and presented a
spectacle which Bernier delighted to contemplate. In general the blinds
or casements of these splendid little mansions of gold, scarlet, and
azure, were closed, to preserve the charms of those within from “Phœbus’
amorous kisses,” or the profane gaze of the vulgar; but once, as the
gorgeous cavalcade moved along, our traveller caught a glimpse of the
interior of Ranchenara’s mikdembar, and beheld the princess reclined
within, while a little female slave fanned away the dust and flies
from her face with a bunch of peacock’s feathers. A train of fifty or
sixty elephants similarly, though less splendidly, appointed, moving
along with grave, solemn pace, surrounded by so vast a retinue as that
which now accompanied the court, appeared in the eyes of our traveller
to possess something truly royal in its aspect, and with the beauteous
goddesses which the fancy placed within, seem, in spite of his affected
philosophical indifference, to have delighted him in a very extraordinary
manner. True philosophy, however, would have admired the show, while it
condemned the extravagance, and despised the pride and effeminacy which
produced it.

In this manner the court proceeded through Lahore and the plains of the
Pundjâb towards Cashmere; but as their motions were slow, they were
overtaken in those burning hollows which condensed and reflected back
the rays of the sun like a vast burning-glass, by the heats of summer,
which are there little less intense than on the shores of the Persian
Gulf. No sooner had the sun appeared above the horizon than the heat
became insupportable. Not a cloud stained the firmament; not a breath
of air stood upon the earth. Every herb was scorched to cinders; and
throughout the wide horizon nothing appeared but an interminable plain of
dust below, and above a brazen or coppery sky, glowing like the mouth of
a furnace. The horses, languid and worn out, could scarcely drag their
limbs along; the very Hindoos themselves, who seem designed to revel in
sunshine, began to droop, and our traveller, who had braved the climate
of Egypt and the Arabian deserts, writing from the camp, on the tenth day
of their march from Lahore, exclaims, “My whole face, hands, and feet are
flayed, and my whole body is covered with small red pustules which prick
like needles. Yesterday, one of our horsemen, who happened to have no
tent, was found dead at the foot of a tree, which he had grasped in his
last agonies. I doubt whether I shall be able to hold out till night. All
my hopes rest upon a little curds which I steep in water, and on a little
sugar, with four or five lemons. The very ink is dried up at the point of
my pen, and the pen itself drops from my hand. Adieu.”

His frame, however, was much tougher than he imagined; and he continued
to proceed with the rest, till having crossed the Chenâb, one of the five
rivers, they ascended Mount Bember, and found themselves in Cashmere,
the Tempé of Hindostan. The traditions of the Hindoos respecting the
formation of this beautiful valley greatly resemble those which prevailed
among the Greeks about that of Thessaly, both being said to have been
originally a lake enclosed by lofty mountains, which having, been rent
by the agency of earthquakes, or bored by human industry, suffered the
waters to escape. Whatever was its origin, the Indian Tempé, though
vaunted by less renowned poets, is no way inferior in fertility or beauty
to the Thessalian. Fields clothed with eternal green, and sprinkled thick
with violets, roses, narcissuses, and other delicate or fragrant flowers,
which here grow wild, meet the eye on all sides; while, to divide or
diversify them, a number of small streams of crystal purity, and several
lakes of various dimensions, glide or sparkle in the foreground of the
landscape. On all sides round arise a range of low green hills, dotted
with trees, and affording a delicious herbage to the gazelle and other
graminivorous animals; while the pinnacles of the Himalaya, pointed,
jagged, and broken into a thousand fantastic forms, rear their snowy
heads behind, and pierce beyond the clouds. From these unscaleable
heights, amid which the imagination of the Hindoo has placed his heaven,
ever bright and luminous, innumerable small rivulets descend to the
valley; and after rushing in slender cataracts over projecting rocks,
and peopling the upland with noise and foam, submit to the direction of
the husbandman, and spread themselves in artificial inundations over the
fields and gardens below. These numerous mountain-torrents, which unite
into one stream before they issue from the valley, may be regarded as
the sources of the Jylum or Hydaspes, one of the mightiest rivers of
Hindostan.

The beauty and fertility of Cashmere are equalled by the mildness
and salubrity of the climate. Here the southern slopes of the hills
are clothed with the fruits and flowers of Hindostan; but pass the
summit, and you find upon the opposite side the productions of the
temperate zone, and the features of a European landscape. The fancy of
Bernier, escaping from the curb of his philosophy, ran riot among these
hills, which, with their cows, their goats, their gazelles, and their
innumerable bees, might, like the promised land, be said to flow with
milk and honey.

The inhabitants of this terrestrial paradise, who were as beautiful as
their climate, possessed the reputation of being superior in genius and
industry to the rest of the Hindoos. The arts and sciences flourished
among them; and their manufactures of palanquins, bedsteads, coffers,
cabinets, spoons, and inlaid work, were renowned throughout the East.
But the fabric which tended most powerfully to diffuse their reputation
for ingenuity were their shawls, those soft and exquisite articles of
dress which, from that day to this, have enjoyed the patronage of the
fair throughout the world. In the days of Bernier these shawls were
comparatively little known in Europe; yet his account of them, though
highly accurate as far as it goes, is brief and rather unsatisfactory.

During the three or four months which he spent in this beautiful country
he made several excursions to the surrounding mountains, where, amid
the wildest and most majestic scenery, he beheld with wonder, he tells
us, the natural succession of generation and decay. At the bottom of
many precipitous abysses, where man’s foot had never descended, he saw
hundreds of enormous trunks, hurled down by time, and heaped upon each
other in decay; while at their foot, or between their crumbling branches,
young ones were shooting up and flourishing. Some of the trees were
scorched and burnt, either blasted by the thunderbolt, or, according to
the traditions of the peasantry, set on fire in the heat of summer by
rubbing against each other, when agitated by fierce burning winds.

The court, having visited Cashmere from motives of pleasure, were
determined to taste every species of it which the country could supply;
the wild and sublime, which must be sought with toil and difficulty, as
well as those more ordinary ones which lay strewed like flowers upon the
earth. The emperor accordingly, or at least his harem, ascended the lower
range of hills, to enjoy the prospect of abyss and precipice, impending
woods, dusky and horrible, and streams rushing forth from their dark
wombs, and leaping with thundering and impetuous fury over cliffs of
prodigious elevation. One of these small cataracts appeared to Bernier
the most perfect thing of the kind in the world; and Jehangheer, who
passed many years in Cashmere, had caused a neighbouring rock, from which
it could be contemplated to most advantage, to be levelled, in order to
behold it at his ease. Here a kind of theatre was raised by Aurungzebe,
for the accommodation of his court; and there they sat, viewing with
wondering delight this sublime work of Nature, surpassing in grandeur,
and by the emotions to which it gave birth, all the wonders of man’s
hand. In this instance the stream was beheld at a considerable distance
rolling along its weight of waters down the slope of the mountain,
through a sombre channel overhung with trees. Arriving at the edge of a
rock, the whole stream projected itself forward, and curving round, like
the neck of a war-horse, in its descent plunged into the gulf below with
deafening and incessant thunder.

An accident which occurred during these imperial excursions threw a damp
over their merriment. In ascending the Peer Punjal, the loftiest mountain
of the southern chain, from whose summit the eye commands an extensive
prospect of Cashmere, one of the foremost elephants was seized with
terror, occasioned, according to the Hindoos, by the length and steepness
of the acclivity. This beast was one of those upon which the ladies
of the harem were mounted; and fifteen others, employed in the same
service, followed. The moment his courage failed him he began to reel
backwards; and striking against the animal which immediately succeeded,
forced him also to retreat. Thus the shock, communicated from the first
to the second, and from the second to the third, in an instant threw
back the whole fifteen; and being upon the giddy edge of a precipice, no
exertion of their drivers or of the bystanders could check their fall;
and down they rolled over the rocks into the abyss, with the ladies upon
their backs. This accident threw the whole army into consternation. A
general halt took place. The most adventurous immediately crept down the
cliffs, and were followed by the rest, to aid such as should have escaped
with life, and remove the bodies of the dead. Here, to their great
astonishment, they found that, by the mercy of Providence, only three or
four of the ladies had been killed; but the elephants, which, when they
sink under their prodigious burdens even on a smooth road, never rise
again, had all been mortally wounded by the fall, and could by no means
be lifted from the spot. Even two days afterward, however, when Bernier
again visited the place, he observed some of the poor animals moving
their trunks.

On returning to Delhi from Cashmere, our traveller appears to have
remained quiet for some time, pursuing his researches amid the mazes
of the atomical philosophy; for he was a disciple of Democritus, and
enjoying those “noctes cœnæque deorum” which seem to have constituted one
of the principal pleasures of his friend Danekmend Khan. His influence
with this chief he exerted for the benefit of others no less than for
his own. Numerous were the individuals who owed to his interference
or recommendation their admission into the service of the khan, or
the speedy termination of their affairs at court, where Danekmend,
who possessed the especial favour of the emperor, could almost always
procure an audience, or give success to a petition. These kind offices
were uniformly repaid with abundant flattery, if not with gratitude; and
the skilful practitioners invariably discharged a portion of the debt
beforehand. Putting on a grave face—a possession of infinite value in the
East—every person who had need of his services assured him at the outset
of the affair that he was the Aristotalis, the Bocrate, and the Abousina
Ulzaman (that is, the Aristotle, the Hippocrates, and the Avicenna) of
the age. It was in vain that he disavowed all claim to such immediate
honours; they persisted in their assertions; argued down his modesty; and
eternally renewing the charge, compelled him to acquiesce, and consent to
allow all the glorious attributes of those illustrious men to be centred
in his own person. A Brahmin whom he recommended to the khan outdid
them all; for, upon his first introduction to his master, after having
compared him to the greatest kings and conquerors that ever reigned, he
concluded by gravely observing, “My lord, whenever you put your foot
in the stirrup, and ride abroad accompanied by your cavalry, the earth
trembles beneath your feet, the eight elephants which support it not
being able to endure so great an exertion!” Upon this, Bernier, who
could no longer restrain his disposition to laugh, remarked to the khan,
that since this was the case, it was advisable that he should ride as
seldom as possible on horseback, in order to prevent those earthquakes,
which might, perhaps, occasion much mischief. “You are perfectly right,”
replied Danekmend, with a smile, “and it is for that very reason that I
generally go abroad in a palanquin!”

In the year 1666, while Bernier was still at Delhi, there happened an
eclipse of the sun, which was attended by so many curious circumstances
that, should he have lived for ages, he declares it never could have been
obliterated from his memory. A little before the obscuration commenced,
he ascended to the roof of his house, which, standing on the margin of
the Jumna, commanded a full view of the stream, and of the surrounding
plain. Both sides of the river for nearly a league were covered with
Hindoos of both sexes, standing up to the waist in the water, anxiously
awaiting for the commencement of the phenomenon, in order to plunge into
the river and bathe their bodies at the auspicious moment. The children,
both male and female, were as naked as at the moment of their birth—the
women wore a single covering of muslin—the men a slight girdle, or
cummerbund, about the waist. The rajahs, nobles, and rich merchants,
however, who, for the most part, had crossed the river with their
families, had fixed up certain screens in the water, which enabled them
to bathe unseen. Presently the dusky body of the moon began to obscure
a portion of the burning disk of the superior planet, and in a moment a
tremendous shout arose from the multitude, who then plunged several times
into the stream, muttering during the intervals an abundance of prayers,
raising their eyes and their hands towards the sun, sprinkling water in
the air, bowing the head, and practising a thousand gesticulations. These
ceremonies continued to the end of the eclipse, when, throwing pieces of
money far into the stream, putting on new garments, some leaving the old
ones, besides the gifts which in common with all others they bestowed,
for the Brahmins, others retaining them, the whole multitude dispersed.

The Hindoos, however, were not singular in the superstitious feelings
with which they regarded eclipses of the sun. Twelve years previous
Bernier had witnessed the effects which one of these phenomena produced
in his own country, where the madness exhibited itself in the guise of
fear. Astrologers, possessing the confidence of the Fates, had predicted
that the end of the world, that unfailing bugbear of the middle age, was
now to take place, and the terrified rabble of all ranks, conscious of
guilt, or oppressed by gloomy fanaticism, immediately crept, like rats,
into their cellars, or dark closets, as if God could not have beheld them
there; or else rushed headlong to the churches, with a piety begotten by
apprehension. Others, who only anticipated some malignant and perilous
influence, swallowed drugs, which were vaunted by their inventors as
sovereign remedies against the eclipse disease! Thus it appears that the
superstition of the Hindoos was the less despicable of the two.

During his long residence in India our traveller twice visited Bengal.
Of his first journey into that province the date is unknown, but his
second visit took place in 1667, the year in which he finally quitted the
country. He seems, on this occasion, to have approached the place by sea,
for we first find him coasting along the Sunderbund in a small native
bark, with seven rowers, in which he ascended by one of the western
branches of the Ganges to the town of Hoogly. The beauty of this immense
delta, divided into innumerable islands by the various arms of the
stream, and covered by a vegetation luxuriant even to rankness, delighted
him exceedingly. Even then, however, many of these romantic isles had
been deserted, owing principally to the dread of the pirates who infested
the coast; and as in India the spots which cultivation abandons quickly
become the abode of pestilential miasmata, which thenceforward forbid the
residence of man, no one now ventured to disturb the tigers and their
prey, which had taken possession of the soil. It was here that for the
third time in his life he enjoyed the sight of that rare phenomenon, a
lunar rainbow. He had caused his boat to be fastened to the branch of a
tree, as far as possible from the shore, through dread of the tigers,
and was himself keeping watch. The moon, then near its full, was shining
serenely in the western sky, when, turning his eyes towards the opposite
quarter, he beheld a pale, bright arch, spanning the earth, and looking
like a phantom of the glorious bow which, impregnated with the rich light
of the sun, gladdens the eye with its brilliant colours by day. Next
night the phenomenon was repeated; and on the fourth evening another
spectacle, now familiar to most readers by description, delighted our
traveller and his boat’s crew. The woods on both sides of the stream
seemed suddenly to be illuminated by a shower of fire, and glowed as
if they had been clothed with leaves of moving flames. There was not a
breath of wind stirring, and the heat was intense. This added to the
effect of the scene; for as the countless little fires streamed hither
and thither in columns, or separated, and fell like drops of rain, or
rose thick like the sparks of a furnace, the two Portuguese pilots whom
our traveller had taken on board, imagined they were so many demons. To
add to the effect of this exhibition of fireflies, for, as the reader
will have foreseen, it was they who were the actors, the swampy soil
sent up a number of those earthly meteors which often glide over large
morasses, some in the form of globes, which rose and fell slowly, like
enormous rockets, while others assumed the shape of a tree of fire.

From Bengal our traveller proceeded along the Coromandel coast to
Masulipatam, and having visited the kingdoms of Golconda and Bejapore,
quitted Hindostan, after a residence of twelve years, and returned by way
of Persia and Mesopotamia to Europe. The exact date of his arrival in
France I have not been able to discover, but it must have been somewhere
in the latter end of the year 1669, or in the beginning of 1670; for
the first two volumes of his “History of the Revolutions of the Mogul
Empire,” which would require some time to prepare them for the press,
were published in the course of that year. The third and fourth volumes
appeared in 1671, and so great was the reputation they acquired, that
they obtained for our traveller the surname of “The Mogul.” These works,
which have frequently been reprinted under the title of “The Travels of
M. François Bernier, containing the Description of the Mogul Empire, of
Hindostan, of the Kingdom of Cashmere, &c.,” were immediately translated
into English, and appear to have been the means of introducing their
author to the most distinguished individuals of his time. Among those
most distinguished by his friendship were Ninon de l’Enclos, Madame de la
Sabliere, St. Evremont, and Chapelle, whose _Eloge_ he composed. To many
of these his speculative opinions, which were any thing but orthodox,
may have rendered him agreeable; but to Ninon, his handsome person, easy
manners, and fascinating conversation, which he knew how to enliven with
a thousand interesting anecdotes, must have proved by far his greatest
recommendation. By St. Evremont he was called “the handsome philosopher;”
and in a letter to Ninon, this same writer observes, “Speaking of the
mortification of the senses one day, to M. Bernier, he replied, ‘I
will tell you a secret which I would not willingly reveal to Madame de
la Sabliere or to Ninon, though it contains an important truth; it is
this—the abstaining from pleasure is itself a crime.’ I was surprised,”
adds St. Evremont, “by the novelty of the system.” Upon this M. Walkenaer
shrewdly observes, that this system could have possessed but very little
novelty for Mademoiselle de l’Enclos; and he might have added that the
surprise of the writer of the letter must either have been affected, or
else betrayed a very slight acquaintance with the history of philosophy.
The other works of Bernier, which have been suffered to sink into much
greater neglect than they perhaps deserve, are,—1. “An Abridgment of
the Philosophy of Gassendi:” in which, according to Buhl, the acute and
learned historian of Modern Philosophy, he not only exhibited the talents
of an able and intelligent abbreviator, but, moreover, afforded numerous
proofs of a capacity to philosophize for himself. On several important
points he differed from his friend, with whom, previous to his travels,
he had lived during many years on terms of the strictest intimacy, and
who died shortly after his departure from France. 2. “A Memoir upon the
Quietism of India,” which appeared in the “Histoire des Ouvrages des
Savans,” for September, 1668. 3. “Extract of various Pieces sent as
Presents to Madame de la Sabliere.” 4. “Eloge of Chapelle.” 5. “Decree
of the Grand Council of Parnassus for the Support of the Philosophy
of Aristotle.” 6. “Illustration of the Work of Father Valois, on the
Philosophy of Descartes,” published by Boyle. 7. “A Treatise on Free
Will.”

The travels of Bernier, which enjoy a vast reputation among the learned,
have never, perhaps, been popular, and can never become so, unless the
various letters and treatises of which the work is composed be properly
arranged, and the whole illustrated with copious notes. As an acute
observer of manners, however, he has seldom been surpassed. His history
of the revolutions of the Mogul empire entitles him to a high rank among
the historians of India; and his description of Cashmere, though brief,
is perhaps the best which has hitherto been given of that beautiful
country. In his private character he appears to have been generous,
humane, and amiable, constant in his friendship, and capable, as may be
inferred from the singular affection entertained for him by Gassendi and
Danekmend Khan, of inspiring a lasting and powerful attachment. Still,
his inclination for the dull, unimaginative, unspiritual philosophy of
Epicurus bespeaks but little enthusiasm or poetical fervour of mind; and
this feature in his intellectual character may account for the inferior
degree of romance with which we contemplate his adventures.




SIR JOHN CHARDIN.

Born 1643.—Died 1713.


Sir John Chardin was born at Paris on the 16th of November, 1643. He was
the son of a rich Protestant jeweller, who, as soon as his education,
which appears to have been carefully conducted and liberal, was
completed, intrusted him with the management of a commercial speculation
in the East, and thus at once gratified and influenced the passion for
visiting new and remote regions which had already taken possession of the
mind of our traveller. Leaving Paris at the age of twenty-two, he visited
Hindostan and Persia, where he remained several years, and was appointed
merchant to the king. His manly but shrewd character, united with
extensive knowledge and great suavity of manners, procured him numerous
friends at the court of Ispahan, some of whom filled important offices
in the government, and were thus enabled to lay open to him the interior
movements of the great political machine which he afterward described
with so much vigour and perspicuity. He accompanied the shah on his
visits to various portions of his dominions, and in this way was enabled
to traverse with pleasure and advantage the wilder and least accessible
districts of Persia, such as Mazenderan, Ghilan, and the other provinces
bordering on the Caspian Sea. Of this portion of his life, however,
he did not judge it necessary to give any detailed account; perhaps
because he had afterward occasion to visit the same scenes, when his mind
was riper, his views more enlarged, and his powers of observation and
description sharpened and invigorated by experience and habit.

Returning to France in 1670, he remained fifteen months in the bosom of
his family, and employed this period of tranquillity and leisure in the
composition of his “History of the Coronation of Solyman III., King of
Persia;” a small work usually appended to his account of his travels. The
desire of fame and distinction, however, which in youthful and ardent
minds is generally the ruling passion, urged him once more to quit his
native country, where, as he himself observes, the religion in which he
was educated excluded him from all hope of advancement or honours, in
order to revisit those regions of the East where his faith would be no
bar to his ambition, and where commerce was not thought to degrade even
the majesty of kings.

Having collected together the jewels, gems, and curious clocks and
watches which he had been commissioned to purchase for the King of
Persia, he repaired to Leghorn, where he embarked with his mercantile
companion for Smyrna. Owing to the unskilfulness of the mariners, the
variableness of the winds, and the badness of the weather, this short
voyage was not performed in less than three months, during which the
passengers endured all the privation and misery which such a voyage could
inflict. From Smyrna he proceeded to Constantinople, where, through the
aid of M. de Nointel, the ambassador of France, he was initiated in all
the mysteries of diplomacy, which he unveils in his travels with infinite
skill and _naïveté_ for the amusement of his readers.

In other respects his connexion with the French ambassador was rather
prejudicial than useful to him; for M. de Nointel having conducted
himself in all his negotiations with the Turks in a puerile and
fluctuating manner, passing by turns from extreme haughtiness to extreme
cringing and servility, the anger of the Porte was roused, and directed
against the whole French nation; and Chardin, when he became desirous
of departing, was denied a passport. From this difficult and somewhat
dangerous position he was delivered by the ingenuity of a Greek, who
contrived to procure him a passage to Azoph, on the Palus Mæotis, on
board of a Turkish vessel then about to set sail with the new commandant
and fresh troops which the Porte sent every year to that remote fortress.
The Black Sea, which receives its appellation from the gloomy clouds
and tempestuous winds which hover over and vex its waters in almost
every season of the year, was now to be traversed; and considering the
unskilfulness and apathy of Turkish sailors, who creep timidly along
the shore, and have little knowledge of the use of the compass, our
traveller was not without his apprehensions. After a voyage of eight
days, however, they arrived at Caffa, in the Crimea, where, by the help
of the Greek friend who had enabled him to laugh at the sultan’s beard
and embark without a passport, he eluded the exorbitant demands of the
custom-house, and transported his merchandise on board another vessel
bound for Mingrelia.

Setting sail from Caffa, where there was little to be seen but stinking
Tartars and caviare, they arrived in twenty-four hours at Touzlah, or
the Salt Marshes, a vast sweep of low shore, alternately covered by the
waters of the sea, artificially introduced, and a white saline crust,
looking like a sheet of snow from a distance. Here upwards of two hundred
ships are annually freighted with salt; and it was for the purpose of
taking on board a cargo of this useful merchandise that the vessel in
which Chardin and his companion were embarked now touched at the place.
On landing, the village was found to consist of about ten or twelve
houses, with a small mosque, and a considerable number of felt-covered
tents, which served for stables, kitchens, and dormitories for the
slaves. Salt was by no means the only article of commerce obtained at
this place. Every morning fires were observed lighted along the shore, as
signals that the brigands of the country had laid violent hands upon a
number of their fellow-creatures, and had them conveyed thither, chained
together like cattle, for sale. These fires being observed, boats were
immediately sent on shore; and when they returned, crowds of women and
children, half-naked, or covered with rags and filth, but resplendent
with beauty, were hoisted on board, where their wretched apparel was
exchanged for clean neat garments, and where, perhaps, for the first time
in their lives they tasted bread. The men and boys were chained two and
two every night; the women, from whom no danger was apprehended, were
permitted the free use of their limbs. These Circassians did not fetch
a great price. A Greek merchant, whose cabin was contiguous to that of
Chardin, purchased for twelve crowns a woman of extraordinary beauty,
with an infant at the breast. What chiefly surprised our traveller in the
circumstances of this affair was, the coolness and serenity with which
these honest people submitted to their fate. Had not the women, much
against their will, been compelled to occupy themselves with needlework,
and the men with such little matters as they could perform on board, they
would have been perfectly happy. Idleness was their _summum bonum_; and
this the most beautiful among the women knew they were about to enjoy in
the harems of Turkey.

On arriving at Isgaour, in Mingrelia, the place where the general
market of the country is held, Chardin naturally expected to find human
dwellings, with provisions, and such other necessaries as in civilized
countries are everywhere attainable for money. In this hope he went
on shore, accompanied by the Greek merchant, who had hitherto been in
a manner his guardian angel; but on entering the place, they indeed
found two long rows of huts formed of the branches of trees, where
merchandise and provisions had once been exposed for sale, but now empty
and deserted. In the vicinity of the place neither house nor habitation
appeared as far as the eye could reach. Two or three peasants, however,
who flitted about like spectres among the deserted huts, engaged to bring
on the morrow a quantity of that species of grain called _gom_, which is
bruised, boiled, and eaten instead of bread, together with wine and other
provisions. There being no alternative, they were compelled to rely on
the promises of these men, as they were nearly in want of every necessary
of life; but their presents failing them, it became necessary to
dissemble with his servants, who already began to murmur aloud and curse
the persons by whose advice he had taken the route of the Black Sea,
relying for the future upon the bounty of Providence. The reason why the
market of Isgaour was thus deserted was, that the Abcas, a neighbouring
people of savage character and barbarous manners, having made an
irruption into the country, were now ravaging it with fire and sword,
while the peasantry and their lords were flying before them in dismay, or
plunging for refuge into the deepest recesses of their forests. Ten days
after their arrival these savages passed along the shore in search of
plunder; and finding none in this celebrated market, set the huts on fire
and reduced them to ashes.

In this dilemma, Chardin had much difficulty in determining what course
to take. He had immediately on landing applied for aid to the Catholic
missionaries of Colchis, the chief of whom promised in reply to be with
him by a certain day, but failed in his engagement; and when after a
second application he repaired to the place of rendezvous, it was less
with the design of forwarding our traveller’s views than of dissuading
him from attempting the journey at all. Perceiving, however, that his
advice could not be followed, he rendered the travellers every service
in his power with alacrity, but without in the least concealing the
magnitude of the danger they were about to incur.

It was now the beginning of October, and Chardin, irritated at the
numerous obstacles and hinderances which had impeded his progress, was
so extremely impatient to be in Persia that no dangers appeared to him
so terrible as delay. He had very soon cause to repent his impetuosity.
The evils he had hitherto endured dwindled to nothing when compared
with those which now rushed upon him like a torrent, and threatened to
swallow up in a moment his wealth, his ambitious projects, and his life.
Nevertheless, with that unshrinking courage which his total ignorance
of the future and the pressure of present evils bestows upon man, he
hastened to put his foot upon the shores of Mingrelia; and embarking with
all his merchandise on board the felucca in which the monk had arrived,
set sail for Anarghia, where they next day arrived. Here his followers
made themselves ample amends for the scarcity they had endured at
Isgaour; for poultry, wild pigeons, pork, goats’ flesh, wine, and other
provisions were abundant and cheap.

After remaining nine days at Anarghia, they departed on the 14th, two
hours before day, and having sailed about six miles up the river,
disembarked their merchandise and provisions, with which they loaded
eight small vehicles, and proceeded on their journey by land. The report
that a party of Europeans were passing with incalculable riches through
the country was soon spread; and as few rich travellers ever traversed
Mingrelia, this rumour immediately inflamed to the highest degree the
cupidity of the hungry prince and his feudatories, who forthwith formed
the design of appropriating these treasures to themselves. They arrived,
however, on the evening of the same day at Sipias, the residence of
the missionaries, where they proposed to remain a few days in order to
prepare themselves by a little repose for the fatigues which were to
come, as well as to deliberate with the monks respecting the means of
escaping from the rapacity of the rulers of Mingrelia.

Four days after his arrival, the princess, or queen, as she termed
herself, of Mingrelia, came to Sipias to visit our traveller, attracted
by the rumours of his wealth, as vultures are attracted by the scent
of a carcass. Her majesty was followed by a train of eight women and
ten men, to all of whom a decent suit of clothes and a tolerable beast
to ride on would have been a welcome present, for they were very badly
mounted and meanly clad. In order to ward off, as far as possible, the
dangerous reputation of being rich, which is elsewhere so much coveted,
our travellers endeavoured to pass for Capuchin friars, and pretended
that the baggage with which their vehicles were loaded consisted
entirely of books. The princess believed neither of these stories. Being
informed that Chardin understood Turkish and Persian, she tormented
him, by means of a slave who could speak the former language, with a
thousand questions, of which the greater number turned upon the subject
of love. After pushing these questions beyond the verge of decency, to
the great amusement of her suite, who appeared to be more delighted in
proportion as her majesty became more obscene, she suddenly turned to a
still more embarrassing topic—demanding to examine the effects of our
traveller, and the stores of the monks. They all now trembled for their
property. Whatever she should have seen would have been lost. To allay
her cupidity, therefore, and at least put off the evil day, the principal
monk humbly informed her that the usual present should be sent on the
morrow, accompanied by another from the travellers. With this assurance
she appeared to be satisfied, and departed.

On the next day our traveller and two of the monks were invited to dine
with the princess, and were of course careful not to present themselves
before her empty-handed, it being a crime in the East for an inferior
to come into the presence of his superior without some gift, in token
of dependence and homage. Her highness of Mingrelia, who had painted
her face and adorned her person to the best of her ability, in order to
appear to advantage in the eyes of the traveller, seemed to be highly
gratified with his present, which, though tasteful and elegant, was of
small value, the better to maintain a show of poverty. Some ten or twelve
ragged but merry-looking wenches, and a crowd of half-naked ragamuffins,
constituted the court of this princess, her maids of honour having, as
she assured the traveller, taken refuge in a neighbouring fortress on
account of the war! The better to enjoy the pleasure of tormenting M.
Chardin, she caused him to sit near her, and commenced her attack by
observing, that it was her will and pleasure that he should marry one of
her friends, and settle in the country, when she promised to bestow on
him houses, lands, slaves, and subjects. From all he had heard and seen
of the women of Mingrelia, our traveller would have felt less repugnance
to marrying a vampire than one of them, beautiful as they were; so
that the bare possibility of the thing made him shudder. He was for
the present delivered from the discussion of this painful topic by the
appearance of dinner, during which the princess inflamed her naturally
ardent temperament by copious libations of wine, which stifled whatever
remains of shame might have lingered in her soul, and impelled her to
exhibit all the importunity and effrontery of a courtesan.

The menaces of this princess, who gave them clearly to understand that
she had determined upon visiting the monastery, for the purpose of
examining their treasures, caused them to return dejected and melancholy
from the castle, the monks apprehending new extortions and vexations, and
Chardin the loss of all he possessed. The remainder of the day was passed
in deliberating upon the present posture of affairs, and it was at length
resolved, that as soon as it was night, pits should be dug, and the most
valuable portion of their merchandise buried in the earth. Accordingly,
the sun had no sooner set behind the mountains, than they commenced
operations, first digging a pit five feet deep in the apartments of one
of the monks, where they buried a large chest filled with watches and
clocks set with jewels. When this had been done, and the earth smoothed
over, and made to appear as before, they repaired under cover of the
darkness to the church, where the principal monk advised our traveller
to open the grave of one of the brotherhood, who had been interred there
some six years before, and deposite among his ashes a small casket filled
with the most costly gems of the East, designed for the princesses and
great ladies of Persia. A secret presentiment prevented Chardin from
following this advice, who selected in preference an obscure corner of
the church, where accordingly a pit was sunk, and the casket carefully
interred. Other costly articles, as a sabre and poniard set with jewels,
were concealed in the roof of the monastery; and such articles of great
value as were small and portable our travellers retained about their
persons.

Many days had not elapsed before they were convinced that their fears
were not without foundation. It was now Sunday, and Chardin, in offering
up his prayers to God, according to custom, would not presume, he says,
to petition his Maker for freedom, so persuaded was he that slavery was
to be his fate; he merely prayed for a mild master, and to be delivered
from a Mingrelian wife. While the classical idea of Medea was haunting
his imagination, and disturbing his devotion, a person came running
in, exclaiming that two neighbouring chiefs, with a band of followers,
armed to the teeth, were knocking at the outer gate, and demanding
admittance. There being no alternative, they were allowed to enter,
which they had no sooner done than they seized and bound the travellers,
commanded the monks to retire, and threatened to put to death the first
person who should make the least stir or resistance. The principal friar
was terrified and fled; but the rest stood firmly by their guests,
particularly the lay-brother, whom not even a naked sword pointed at his
throat could induce to abandon them. When the bandits proceeded to bind
their servants, one of the latter, who had a large knife in his hand,
endeavouring to defend himself, was instantaneously struck to the earth
with a lance, bound hand and foot, and fastened to a tree. This being
done, the ruffians informed the travellers that they wished to examine
their effects. Chardin replied that it was within their power; that they
were but poor monks, whose whole wealth consisted in books, papers, and
a few wretched garments, the whole of which, if they would abstain from
violence, should be shown them. Upon this he was unbound, and commanded
to open the door of their apartment, where their books, papers, and
wardrobe were kept. Chardin’s companion had sewn the most valuable of his
jewels in the collar of his coat; but our traveller himself had made two
small packets of his, which were sealed, and put among his books, not
daring to carry them about him lest he should be assassinated, stripped,
or sold for a slave. In order to gain a moment to withdraw these packets,
he requested his companion and the lay-brother to hold the chiefs in
conversation, by pretending to negotiate with them, and offering them a
small sum of money. The stratagem succeeding for an instant, he darted
upstairs, their apartment being on the first floor, entered the chamber,
and locked the door. His design was suspected, and the whole band of
ruffians rushed up after him; but the door being somewhat difficult to
be broken open, he had time to take out his packets and conceal them
in the roof of the house. His companion, however, who was in the room
below, called out to him that he ought to be on his guard, for that he
was observed through the cracks in the floor. Upon hearing this, and
seeing that the door was giving way, he became confused, and scarcely
knowing what he did, took down the jewels out of the roof, thrust them
into his pocket, and opening the window of the apartment, jumped out into
the garden. Without noticing whether he was watched or not, he threw the
packets into a thicket, and then hastened back to the room, now filled
with robbers, some of whom were maltreating his companion, while others
were battering his coffers with their spears or lances, in order to break
them open.

He now plucked up his courage, imagining that the greater part of his
wealth was out of their reach, and bid them take heed of what they did;
that he was the envoy of the King of Persia; and that the Prince of
Georgia would take ample vengeance for whatever violence might be offered
to his person. He then showed them his passport from the king. One of
the chiefs snatched it out of his hand, and was about to tear it in
pieces, saying that he neither feared nor regarded any man upon earth;
but the other, awed by the royal seal and letters of gold, restrained
him. They now said, that if he would open his coffers and allow them to
examine his effects, no violence should be offered him; but that if he
refused any longer, they would strike off his head from his shoulders.
He was still proceeding to contest the point, when one of the soldiers,
impatient to proceed to business, drew his sword, and aimed a blow at
his head, which would have cleft it in twain, had not the villain’s arm
been instantaneously arrested by the lay-brother. Perceiving the kind of
arguments they were disposed to employ, he unlocked his chests, which in
the twinkling of an eye were rummaged to the bottom, while every thing
which appeared to possess any value was taken away. Turning his eyes
from this painful scene towards the garden, he perceived two soldiers
searching among the bushes in the very spot where he had thrown his
jewels; and rushing towards them, followed by one of the monks, they
retired. He then, without reflecting upon the extreme imprudence of his
conduct, began himself to search about for the packets, but not being
able to discover them, he supposed the soldiers had found and carried
them off. As their value was little less than ten thousand pounds, the
loss fell upon him like a thunderbolt. Nevertheless, there was no time
for sorrowing. His companion and the lay-brother were loudly calling
him from the house. He therefore tore himself away from the spot. In
returning towards the house, two soldiers fell upon him, dragged him up
into a corner, and after clearing his pockets of all they contained,
were about to bind him and hurry him off; but after much resistance and
expostulation, they released him, and shortly afterward the whole troop
retired from the monastery.

The robber chiefs and their followers had no sooner departed, than
Chardin again repaired to the garden, and was sorrowfully prying about
the thickets where he had concealed his jewels, when a man cast his arms
about his neck, and threw him into more violent terror than ever. He
had no doubt it was a Mingrelian, who was about to cut his throat. The
next moment, however, he recognised the voice of his faithful Armenian
valet, who, in accents broken by sobs, and with eyes overflowing with
tears, exclaimed, “Ah, sir, we are ruined!” Chardin, strongly moved by
this proof of his affection, bade him restrain his tears. “But, sir,”
said he, “have you searched the place carefully?”—“So carefully,” replied
the traveller, “that I am convinced all further search would be so much
labour lost.” This did not satisfy the Armenian. He wished to be informed
exactly respecting the spot where the traveller had thrown the jewels;
the manner in which he had cast them into the thicket; and the way in
which he had sought for them. To oblige him, Chardin did what he desired,
but was so thoroughly persuaded that all further search was useless,
that he refused to remain upon the spot, and went away, overwhelmed with
grief and vexation. How long he remained in this state of stupefaction he
could not tell; he was roused from it, however, by the presence of the
Armenian, who, approaching him in the dark, for it was now night, once
more threw himself about his neck, and thrust the two packets of jewels
into his bosom.

By the advice of the monks, Chardin next morning proceeded to the
prince’s castle, to relate his griefs, and demand justice; but all he
gained by this expedition was, the thorough conviction that his highness
was as arrant a thief as his subjects, and had shared the fruits of the
robbery, which was apparently undertaken by his orders. This discovery,
however, was important; it opened his eyes to the true character of
the country; and taught him that in Mingrelia, at least, the man who
put his trust in princes was a fool. In the course of two days, to
give the finishing stroke to their misfortune, they learned that the
Turks, irritated at the insolence and rapacity of its chief, had made
an irruption into the country, were laying it waste with fire and sword
on all sides, and had already approached to within a short distance of
Sipias. At midnight, two cannon-shots from the neighbouring fortress of
Ruchs announced the approach of the enemy, and the peasants, with their
wives, children, and flocks, immediately took to flight, and before dawn
the whole population was in motion. Our traveller, whose companion,
excited and irritated by the preceding untoward events, was now ill, fled
among the rest, leaving behind him his books, papers, and mathematical
instruments, which he hoped the ignorance of both Turks and Mingrelians
would protect. His buried wealth he also left where it was, and,
considering the complexion of events, regarded as much safer than what he
carried with him.

The sight of this whole people, suddenly thrown into rapid flight, was
sufficiently melancholy. The women bore along their children in their
arms, the men carried the baggage. Some drove along their cattle before
them, while others yoked themselves like oxen to the carts in which
their furniture was loaded, and being unable long to continue their
extraordinary exertions, sunk down exhausted and dying on the road.
Here and there, along the wayside, groups of old people, or very young
children, implored the aid of those whose strength had not yet failed,
with the most heart-rending cries and groans. At another moment the
spectacle would have caused the most painful emotions, but it was now
beheld with the utmost indifference. The idea of danger having swallowed
up every other, they hurried by these miserable deserted creatures
without pity or commiseration.

The castle in which they now took refuge belonged to a chief who had been
a double renegade, having deserted Christianity for Mohammedanism, and
Mohammedanism for Christianity; notwithstanding which, he was supposed
to be a less atrocious brigand than his neighbours. He received the
fugitives politely, and assigned them for their lodgings an apartment
where they were somewhat less exposed to the weather than in the woods,
though the rain found its way in on all sides. The castle, however, was
already crowded with people, eight hundred persons, of whom the majority
were women and children, having taken refuge in it, and others still more
destitute and miserable arriving every moment.

Next day one of the missionaries returned to the monastery, for the
purpose of bringing away, if possible, such plate and provisions as
had been left behind: but he found that place in possession of the
Turks, who beat him severely, and carried away whatever was portable
in the house. The night following, a Mingrelian chief, more barbarous
and destructive than the Turks, sacked the monastery a third time, and
having no torches or flambeaux to light him in his depredations, made a
bonfire of our traveller’s books and papers, and reduced the whole to
ashes. The chief in whose castle they had taken refuge, being summoned
to surrender by the Turkish pasha, and perceiving the absurdity of
pretending to measure his strength with that of the enemy, consented
to take the oath of allegiance to the Porte, and, what was equally
important, to make a handsome present to its agent. This present was
to consist of three hundred crowns in money, and twenty young slaves,
which the wretch determined to levy from the unfortunate creatures who
had thrown themselves upon his protection, confiding in the sacred laws
of hospitality. Among Mingrelians, however, there is nothing sacred.
Every family possessing four children was compelled to give up one of
the number to be transported into Turkey as a slave; but it was found
necessary to tear away the children from the arms of their mothers, who
grasped them convulsively, pressed them to their bosoms, and yielded only
to irresistible violence. Instead of twenty children, the chief forced
away twenty-five, selling the additional number for his own profit; and
instead of three hundred crowns, he extorted five hundred. Providence,
however, compelled him and his family to devour their share of grief. The
pasha peremptorily demanded one of his sons as a hostage, and as he and
his wives beheld the youngest of their boys depart into endless captivity
for the hostage, delivered up to the Porte never to return, they had an
opportunity of tasting a sample of the bitterness they had administered
to others. Chardin, who had neither wife nor children to lose, was taxed
at twenty crowns.

Perceiving that the state of the country verged more and more every day
upon utter anarchy and confusion, our traveller came to the resolution
of departing at all hazards for Georgia, to demand its prince’s aid in
withdrawing his property from Mingrelia. His companion remained to watch
over it in his absence. Not being able to procure either guards or guides
from among the natives, for with all their misery there is no people
who fear death or danger more than the Mingrelians, he was constrained
to set out with a single domestic, who, as fate would have it, was the
most consummate scoundrel in his service. On the way to Anarghia, where
he was once more to embark on the Black Sea, he learned that the church
in which he had deposited his wealth had been sacked and stripped to the
bare walls, that the very graves had been opened, and every vestige of
property removed. Here was a new source of anguish. It was now a question
whether he was a rich or a poor man. He paused in his journey—sent off
an express to his companion—the ruins of the church were visited—and
their money found to be untouched. This circumstance, he informs us,
marvellously exalted his courage, and he proceeded with fresh vigour on
his new enterprise.

Embarking in a felucca at Anarghia, in company with several Turks and
their slaves, he sailed along the south-eastern coast of the Black Sea,
passed by the mouth of the Phasis, the site of Sebaste, and many other
spots redolent of classical fame, and in three days arrived at Gonia
in the country of the Lazii. Here the character of his valet began to
develop itself. Repairing as soon as they had landed to the custom-house,
leaving his master to manage for himself, the vagabond imparted to
the authorities his conjectures respecting the real condition of the
traveller, and thus at once awakened their vigilance and cupidity. His
effects were in consequence rigorously examined, and the dues exacted
from him, which were heavy, perhaps extortionate, no doubt enabled the
custom-house officers to reward the treachery of his servant. When
these matters had been settled, the principal officer, who, after all,
was a man of humane disposition and tolerably just principles, made
Chardin an offer of an apartment in his house, where he invited, nay,
even entreated him to pass the night; but having already suffered from
what he regarded as his rapacity, the traveller dreaded some new act of
extortion, and obstinately refused his hospitality. He very soon repented
this false step. It being nearly night, he proceeded, on quitting the
custom-house, to the inn, or rather hovel, whither his valet had directed
his effects to be conveyed after examination. Here he was sitting down,
fatigued and dejected, disgusted with dirt and stench, and listening to
the condolences of his Turkish travelling companions, when a janizary
from the lieutenant of the commandant, the chief being absent, entered
in search of his valet, with whom that important personage was desirous
of holding a conference. In another hour the presence of the traveller
himself was required; and when, in obedience to authority, he repaired
to the fort, he found both the lieutenant and his own graceless servant
drunk, and began to perceive that a plan for pillaging him had been
concerted. The lieutenant now informed him, with as much gravity as
the prodigious quantity of wine he had taken would permit, that all
ecclesiastics who passed through Gonia were accustomed to pay two
hundred ducats to his superior; and that he, therefore, as a member of
that profession, for Chardin had thought proper to pass for a Capuchin,
must deposite that sum in his hands for the commandant. It was in vain
that the traveller now denied all claim to the clerical character, and
acknowledged himself to be a merchant; merchant or priest, it was all the
same to the lieutenant; what he wanted was the two hundred ducats, which,
after much altercation, were reduced to one hundred; but this M. Chardin
was compelled to pay, or submit to the punishment of the _carcan_, a
species of portable stocks, through which the offender’s head is put
instead of his feet. The worst feature, however, of the whole affair was,
that the drunken officer took it into his head to cause the present thus
extorted to appear to be a voluntary gift; and again having recourse to
menaces, which he was prepared to execute upon the spot, he forced the
traveller to make oath on the Gospel that he bestowed the money freely,
and would disclose the real nature of the transaction to no one. This
being done, he was allowed to retire.

Next morning the custom-house officer, who, in inviting him to pass the
night in his house, had intended to protect him from this species of
robbery, furnished him with a guide, and two men to carry his luggage;
and with this escort, in addition to his hopeful valet, he departed for
Akalziké. The road at first lay through a plain, but at length began
to ascend, and pierce the defiles of the Caucasus; and as he climbed
higher and higher among the precipitous and dizzy heights of this sublime
mountain, among whose many peaks the ark is supposed to have first taken
ground after the deluge, and from whence the stream of population flowed
forth and overspread the world with a flood of life, he felt the cares,
solicitudes, and sorrows which for many months had fed, as it were, upon
his heart, take wing, and a healing and invigorating influence spread an
exquisite calm over his sensations. This singular tranquillity, which he
experienced on first reaching these lofty regions, still continued as he
advanced, notwithstanding the rain, the hail, and the snow which were
poured on him by the tempest as he passed; and in such a frame of mind he
attained the opposite side of the mountain, upon whose folding slopes he
beheld numerous villages, castles, and churches, picturesquely scattered
about, and at length descended into a broad and beautiful valley,
cultivated with the greatest care, and fertilized by the waters of the
Kur.

Arriving without accident or adventure at Akalziké, and remaining there
four days to repose himself, he departed for Georgia. The route now
presented nothing extraordinary. A castle or a ruin, picturesquely
perched upon the crest of a rocky eminence, a church, or a village,
or a forest—such were the objects which met the eye. He at length
reached the Capuchin convent in the vicinity of Gory, whence, after
mature consultation with the monks, who, for strangers, entered with
extraordinary earnestness into his views, he set out, accompanied by a
lay-brother of the order, for Tiflis, partly with the design of demanding
aid from the Prince of Georgia, and partly to obtain the advice of the
principal missionary respecting the steps he ought to take in order
to deliver his partner and property from the avaricious hands of the
Mingrelians. The opinion of the monks was, that since the Prince of
Georgia entertained rather loose notions respecting his allegiance to
the King of Persia, whose servant Chardin was to be considered, and,
like all petty potentates, was possessed by extreme cupidity and laxity
of principle, there would in all probability be as much danger in being
aided by him, as in depending on the uncertain will of fortune and
his own prudence and ingenuity; that he ought to return secretly to
Mingrelia; and that, for the greater chance of success, he should take
with him one of the brotherhood, who was deeply versed in the small
politics of those countries; and a native dependent on the monastery, who
had been a thousand times in Mingrelia.

With these able coadjutors he returned once more into the country of
Media, whence, after incredible difficulties and very considerable
danger, he succeeded in rescuing his property. On his return to Tiflis
he calculated, with the aid of his companion, the losses they had
sustained during the journey from Constantinople to Georgia, and found
that, by great good fortune, it did not exceed _one per cent._ upon the
merchandise they had succeeded in conveying safe and entire to that city.
He now tasted of that delight which springs up in the mind after dangers
escaped and difficulties overcome; and commenced the pleasing task of
studying the manners of a people among whom, however impure and depraved
might be their morals, a stranger had little to fear. The beauty of the
women, he found, was so irresistible in Georgia, and their manners so
graceful and bewitching, that it was impossible to behold them without
love; but the depravity of their morals, and the blackness and perfidy of
their souls, exceeded, if possible, the perfection of their forms, and
rendered them as odious to the mind as they were pleasing to the eye.

After remaining a short time at Tiflis, and going through the usual
routine of giving and receiving presents, &c., he departed for Armenia.
Being now accompanied by a mehmandar, or guest-guard, he proceeded
without obstacle or extortion; this officer taking upon himself the care
of adjusting matters with the custom-houses, and of providing horses,
carriage, and provisions on the way. Though in so low a latitude, the
whole face of the country was still covered with snow in March, and it
was with much difficulty that they proceeded over the narrow pathways
made by the few travellers who were compelled to traverse the country
at such a season. To guard against the reflection of the sun’s rays
from the snow, which weakened the sight, and caused a burning heat in
the face, our traveller wore a handkerchief of green or black silk tied
across the eyes, after the manner of the inhabitants, though this merely
diminished, but could not altogether prevent the evil. Whenever they met
any travellers moving in a contrary direction, they had to dispute who
should yield up the narrow path, upon which two horses could not pass
each other, and go out into the soft snow, in which the animals instantly
sunk up to their bellies; but in the end every one yielded the preference
to the mehmandar. Creeping along in this manner through the cold, they
arrived at Eryvan on the 7th of March.

Being now in a country where civilization had made some progress,
Chardin took lodgings in a caravansary, and was provided abundantly with
the necessaries of life by the bounty of the governor, who, no doubt,
expected that his civilities would be remembered when he should come
in the sequel to bargain for a portion of the traveller’s jewels. In
the East it is an established rule that the natives shall always take
advantage of a stranger, sometimes by force, at other times by cunning,
but invariably in some way or another. In Mingrelia our traveller had
to guard against force and violence; here against wheedling, deceit,
flattery, double-dealing, hypocrisy, and meanness. In the former case,
however, being weak, it was necessary to evade or succumb; but in the
present, since ingenuity was the weapon on both sides, there were more
chances of success, though it often appeared that plain honest good sense
is not always a match for practised cunning. In the intervals of business
the time was passed in parties, dinners, and visits, which at least
furnished opportunities of studying the manners of the people.

Perceiving that the time of his departure was drawing nigh, the governor
came to the point at which he had been steadily aiming all the while,
under cover of his hospitality and caresses, which were put forward as so
many stalking-horses, to enable him to bring down his game with greater
certainty. Sending for Chardin to the palace, he proceeded warily and
stealthily to business, occasionally shaking the dust of compliments and
flattery in the traveller’s eyes as he went along. He first lamented
the actual state of Persia, in which, reduced by bad government and the
malignant inclemency of the seasons to a state bordering upon famine
and anarchy, there was of course little or no demand for expensive
articles of luxury; besides, even if public affairs had been flourishing,
and the royal resources abundant, the present king had no taste for
jewelry; and that, therefore, there was no hope of disposing of costly
precious stones at the court of Ispahan. From this preliminary discourse,
which was meant to diminish in the traveller’s eyes the value of his
merchandise, though in reality the picture was correct, the governor
passed at once to the genuine object of his oration, and made an offer
to purchase a part of the jewels. His conduct on this occasion was a
masterpiece of mercantile skill, and he succeeded, by holding out the
hope of more important purchases in the sequel, in getting every thing
he really intended to buy at a very cheap rate. When his object was
gained, he closed the negotiation in the coolest manner in the world, by
returning the large quantity of jewels which he had caused to be sent
to his palace, as if he had intended to bargain for them all; and the
traveller now perceived that the wily Persian had made a dupe of him. As
all manifestations of discontent, however, would have been altogether
useless, he affected to be extremely well pleased at his bad luck, and
retired to his caravansary, cursing all the way the talents and aptitude
of the governor of Eryvan for business and cheating.

On the 8th of April he departed from the capital of Armenia, and
travelling for several days through level and fertile plains,
interspersed with churches and villages, arrived at Nacchivan, a city
formerly celebrated, and of great antiquity, but now in ruins. From hence
he proceeded, etymologizing and making researches as he moved along,
towards Tabriz, where he arrived on the 17th. At this city, then the
second in Persia in rank, riches, and population, he took up his quarters
at the Capuchin convent, where he was visited by several of the nobles of
the place, on account of his jewelry, the fame of which flew before him
on the road, and like a pioneer smoothed and laid level his passage into
Persia. In proceeding southward from Tabriz he had to traverse the plains
of Aderbijān, the ancient Media, which being covered at this season of
the year by tribes of Koords, Saraneshins, and Turcomans, all striking
their tents, and putting themselves in motion for their summer emigration
to the mountains, could not be crossed by a stranger without considerable
danger. He was therefore counselled to defer his departure for a few
days, when he would have the advantage of travelling in the company of
a Persian nobleman, whose presence would be a sufficient protection. He
adopted this advice, and in less than a week set out under the safeguard
of his noble escort, and crossed those rich and beautiful plains, which
afford the best pasturage in the world, and where, accordingly, the
ancient kings of Media kept their prodigious studs, which sometimes
consisted of fifty thousand horses. The ancients relate, that the
horses of Nysa, which must be sought for in these plains, were all
cream-coloured; but the nobleman who accompanied Chardin had never read
or heard of any part of Persia where horses of that colour were produced.

In his journey through Media he saw on the side of the road circles of
huge stones, like those of Stonehenge, and the Dolmens of Normandy and
Brittany, which, according to the traditions of the Persians, were placed
there by the Kaous, or giants, who formerly held possession of those
regions. The same superstitions, the same fables, the same wild belief in
the enormous strength and stature of past generations, prevail, we see,
throughout the world, because the desires, faculties, and passions of the
mind are everywhere the same.

It was now June, and instead of disputing with those they met on the road
the possession of a narrow snow-track, they were compelled to travel
by night to avoid the scorching heat of the sun. They usually set out
about two hours before sunset, and when day had entirely disappeared,
the stars, which in the clear blue atmosphere of Persia yield a strong
brilliant light, agreeably supplied its place, and enabled them to
proceed from caravansary to caravansary with facility. At every step
historical associations crowded upon the traveller’s mind. The dust which
was thrown up into a cloud by the hoof of his camel, and the stones
over which he stumbled in the darkness, were the dust and the wrecks of
heroes and mighty cities, crumbled by time, and whirled about by the
breath of oblivion. Cyrus and Alexander, khalifs, khans, and sultans, had
fought, conquered, or perished on those plains. Vast cities had risen,
flourished, and vanished like a dream. A few days before his arrival at
Kom he passed at a little distance the ruins of Rhe, a city scarcely less
vast in its dimensions, or less magnificent or populous than Babylon, but
now deserted, and become so unhealthy in consequence, that, according to
a Persian poet, the very angel of death retired from it on account of the
badness of the air.

On his arrival at Koms, after escaping from the storms of the Black Sea
and the Mingrelians, Chardin was nearly killed by the kick of a horse. He
escaped, however, and set out two days afterward for Kashan, traversing
fine fertile plains, covered with villages. In this city, celebrated for
its burning climate and scorpions, he merely remained one day to allow
his horses a little repose, and then departed and pushed on to Ispahan,
where he arrived on the 23d of June.

Chardin was faithful to the Capuchin friars; for whenever he passed
through or visited a city in which they possessed a convent, it was the
first place to which he repaired, and the last he quitted. On the present
occasion he took up his residence, as usual, with these monks, at whose
convent he found on his arrival a bag of letters addressed to him from
various parts of the world: before he could read the half of which, many
of his Persian and Armenian friends, whom he had known during his former
residence, and all the Europeans of the city, came to welcome him on
his return to Ispahan. From these he learned that the court, which had
undergone innumerable changes during his absence, the greater number of
those great men who had distinguished themselves, or held any offices
of trust under the late king, being either dead or in disgrace, was now
in the utmost confusion, the persons who exercised most influence in it
being a set of young noblemen without virtue, talents, or experience. And
what was still worse for Chardin, though not for Persia, it was secretly
whispered about that Sheïkh Ali Khan, formerly prime minister, but now in
disgrace, was about to be restored to favour; in which case our traveller
anticipated great losses, as this virtuous and inflexible man, whose
great talents had always been employed in the service of his country, was
an enemy to all lavish expenditure, and regarded jewels and other costly
toys as mere dross, unworthy the attention of a sovereign prince.

Chardin perceived, therefore, that he had not a moment to lose, it
being of the highest importance that his business with the king should
be transacted before Sheïkh Ali Khan should again be prime vizier;
but by whom he was to be introduced at court was the question. The
persons to whom he applied in the first instance, at the same time that
they willingly consented to use their best efforts in his favour, and
counselled him not to despair, yet gave so sombre a picture of the state
of the court, and threw out so many insinuations, indicating their belief
that the future would be still more unpropitious than the present, that
they succeeded in casting a damp over his energies, and in dissipating or
at least blighting his hopes. Nevertheless, something was to be done, and
that quickly; and he determined, that whatever might be the result, he
would at all events not fail through inattention or indolence.

While Chardin was labouring to put those springs in motion, the
harmonious action of which was to produce the fulfilment of his hopes,
Sheïkh Ali Khan suddenly entered into office. This event was brought
about in a strange manner. The king, during one of those violent fits of
intoxication to which he was liable, and during which he acted more like
a wild beast than a man, had commanded the right hand of a musician who
was playing before him to be struck off, and immediately fell asleep.
The person to whom the barbarous order was given, imagining that all
recollection of the matter would pass away with the fumes of sleep,
ventured to disobey; but the king awaking, and finding the musician,
whom he expected to find mutilated and bleeding, still touching the
instrument, became so enraged, that he gave orders for inflicting the
same punishment upon the disobedient favourite and the musician; and
finding that those around him still hesitated to execute his brutal
commands, his madness rose to so ungovernable a pitch that he would
probably have had the arms and legs of all the court cut off, had not
Sheïkh Ali Khan, who fortunately happened to be present, thrown himself
at his feet, and implored him to pardon the offenders. The tyrant, now
beginning to cool a little, replied, “You are a bold man, to expect that
I shall grant your request, while you constantly refuse to resume, at my
most earnest entreaties, the office of prime minister!”—“Sire,” replied
Ali, “I am your slave, and will do whatever your majesty shall command.”
The king was pacified, the culprits pardoned, and next morning Sheïkh Ali
Khan reassumed the government of Persia.

The event dreaded by our traveller had now arrived, and therefore the
aspect of affairs was changed. Nevertheless, not many days after this
event, he received an intimation from one of his court friends, that is,
persons purchased over by presents, that the nazir, or chief intendant
of the king’s household, having been informed of his arrival, was
desirous of seeing him, and had warmly expressed his inclination to serve
him with the shah. Chardin, who understood from what motives courtiers
usually perform services, laid but small stress upon his promises, but
still hastened to present himself at his levee, with a list of all the
articles of jewelry he had brought with him from Europe, which the nazir
immediately ordered to be sent to him for the inspection of the king. A
few days afterward he was introduced to the terrible grand vizier, Sheïkh
Ali Khan himself, who, from the mild and polished manner in which he
received our traveller, appeared extremely different from the portraits
which the courtiers and common fame had drawn of him.

His whole fortune being now at stake, and depending in a great measure
upon the disposition of the nazir and the conduct of the shah, Chardin
was unavoidably agitated by very painful and powerful feelings, when he
was suddenly summoned to repair to the intendant’s palace, where the
principal jewellers of the city, Mohammedan, Armenian, and Hindoo, had
been assembled to pronounce upon the real value of the various articles
he had offered to the king. He had not long entered before the nazir
ordered the whole of his jewels to be brought forth, those which his
majesty intended to purchase being set apart in a large golden bowl of
Chinese workmanship. Chardin, observing that notwithstanding the whole
had been purchased or made by order of the late king, not a fourth
part had been selected by his present majesty, felt as if he had been
stricken by a thunderbolt, and became pale and rooted, as it were, to the
spot. The nazir, though a selfish and rapacious man, was touched by his
appearance, and leaning his head towards him, observed, in a low voice,
“You are vexed that the king should have selected so small a portion
of your jewels. I protest to you that I have taken more pains than I
ought to induce him to purchase the whole, or at least the half of them;
but I have not been able to succeed, because the larger articles, such
as the sabre, the poniard, and the mirror, are not made in the fashion
which prevails in this country. But keep up your spirits; you will still
dispose of them, if it please God.” The traveller, who felt doubly vexed
that his chagrin had been perceived, made an effort to recover his
composure, but could not so completely succeed but that the shadow, as it
were, of his emotion still remained upon his countenance.

However, pleased or displeased, it was necessary to proceed to business.
The shah’s principal jeweller now placed before him the golden bowl
containing the articles selected by his majesty, and beginning with the
smaller pieces, asked the price of them in a whisper; and then caused
them to be estimated by the other jewellers present, beginning with
the Mohammedans, and then passing on to the Armenians and Hindoos. The
merchants of Persia, when conducting any bargain before company, never
make use of any words in stating the price to each other; they make
themselves understood with their fingers, their hands meeting under a
corner of their robe, or a thick handkerchief, so that their movements
may be concealed. To close the hand of the person with whom business is
thus transacted means _a thousand_; to take one finger of the open hand,
_a hundred_; to bend the finger in the middle, _fifty_; and so on. This
mode of bargaining is in use throughout the East, and more particularly
in India, where no other is employed.

The value of the jewels being thus estimated, the appraisers were
dismissed, and the nazir, coming to treat tête-à-tête with Chardin,
succeeded so completely in throwing a mist over his imagination, by
pretending to take a deep interest in his welfare, that he drew him into
a snare, and in the course of the negotiation, which lasted long, and was
conducted with infinite cunning on the part of the Persian, caused him to
lose a large portion of the fruits of his courage and enterprise. Other
negotiations with various individuals followed, and in the end Chardin
succeeded in disposing of the whole of his jewels.

These transactions closed with the year 1673. In the beginning of the
following, which was passed in a devotional manner among the Protestants
of Ispahan, the traveller began to feel his locomotive propensities
revive; and an ambassador from Balkh, then in the capital, happening to
pay him a visit, so wrought upon his imagination by his description of
his wild country, and gave him so many pressing invitations to accompany
him on his return, that, had it not been for the counter-persuasion of
friends, Chardin would undoubtedly have extended his travels to Tartary.
This idea being relinquished, however, he departed for the shores of the
Persian Gulf, a journey of some kind or other being necessary to keep up
the activity of both body and mind.

He accordingly departed from Ispahan in the beginning of February, all
the Europeans in the city accompanying him as far as Bagh Koolloo, where
they ate a farewell dinner together. He then proceeded on his journey,
and in eleven days arrived at the ruins of Persepolis, which he had
twice before visited, in order once more to compare his ideas with the
realities, and complete his description of this celebrated spot. These
magnificent ruins are situated in one of the finest plains in the world;
and as you enter this plain from the north through narrow gayas or
between conical hills of vast height and singular shape, you behold them
standing in front of a lofty ridge of mountains, which sweep round in the
form of a half-moon, flanking them on both sides with its mighty horns.
On two of these lofty eminences which protected the approaches to the
city, and which, when Persepolis was in all its glory, so long resisted
the fierce, impatient attacks of Alexander, the ruins of ancient forts
still subsisted when Chardin was there; but, after having travelled so
far, principally for the purpose of examining the ruins scattered around,
he found the hills too steep and lofty, and refused to ascend them!

Having occupied several days in contemplating the enormous ruins of
temples and palaces existing on the plain, our traveller descended into
what is called the Subterranean Temple; that is, a labyrinth of canals
or passages, hewn out in the solid rock, turning, winding, and crossing
each other in a thousand places, and extending to an unknown distance
beneath the bases of the mountains. The entrances and the exits of these
dismal vaults are unknown; but travellers and other curious persons
find their way in through rents made by time or by earthquakes in the
rock. Lighted candles, which burned with difficulty in the heavy, humid
air, were placed at the distance of every fifty yards, as Chardin and
his companions advanced, particularly at those points where numerous
passages met, and where, should a wrong path be taken, they might have
lost themselves for ever. Here and there they observed heaps of bones
or horns of animals; the damp trickled down the sides of the rocks; the
bottom of the passages was moist and cold; respiration grew more and more
difficult every step; they became giddy; an unaccountable horror seized
upon their minds; the attendant first, and then the traveller himself,
experienced a kind of panic terror; and fearing that, should they much
longer continue to advance, they might never be able to return, they
hastened back towards the fissures through which they had entered; and
without having discovered any thing but vaults which appeared to have no
end, they emerged into daylight, like Æneas and his companion from the
mouth of hell.

Departing from the ruins of Persepolis on the 19th of February, he
next day arrived at Shiraz, where he amused himself for three days in
contemplating the waters of the Roknebad and the bowers of Mosellay. In
proceeding from this city to Bander-Abassi, on the Persian Gulf, he had
to pass over Mount Jarron by the most difficult and dangerous road in all
Persia. At every step the travellers found themselves suspended, as it
were, over tremendous precipices, divided from the abyss by a low wall of
loose stones, which every moment seemed ready to roll of their own accord
into the depths below. The narrow road was blocked up at short intervals
by large fragments of rock, between which it was necessary to squeeze
themselves with much pains and caution. However, they passed the mountain
without accident, and on the 12th of March arrived at Bander-Abassi.

This celebrated port, from which insufferable heat and a pestilential
atmosphere banish the whole population during summer, is at all times
excessively insalubrious, all strangers who settle there dying in the
course of a few years, and the inhabitants themselves being already old
at thirty. The few persons who remain to keep guard over the city during
summer, at the risk of their lives, are relieved every ten days; during
which they suffer sufficiently from the heat, the deluges of rain, and
the black and furious tempests which plough up the waters of the gulf,
and blow with irresistible fury along the coast.

Though the eve of the season of death was drawing near, Chardin found
the inhabitants of Bander in a gay humour, feasting, drinking, and
elevating their sentiments and rejoicing their hearts with the heroic
songs of Firdoosi. Into these amusements our traveller entered with all
his heart—the time flew by rapidly—the advent of fever and death was
come—and the ship which he expected from Surat had not yet arrived.
Talents and experience are not always accompanied by prudence. Chardin
saw the whole population deserting the city; yet he lingered, detained
by the _auri sacra fames_, until far in the month of May, and until, in
fact, the seeds of a malignant fever had been sown in his constitution.
Those uneasy sensations which are generally the forerunners of sickness
and death, united with the representations of the physicians, at length
induced him to quit the place, his attendants being already ill; but he
had not proceeded many leagues before a giddiness in the head and general
debility of body informed him that he had remained somewhat too long at
Bander.

Arriving on the 24th of May at Tangnedelan, a place where there was not
a single human being to be found, he became delirious, and at last fell
into a fit from which his attendants had much difficulty in recovering
him. There happened, by great good fortune, to be a French surgeon in his
suite. This surgeon, who was an able man in his profession, not only took
all possible care of our traveller during his moments of delirium, but,
what was of infinitely greater importance, had the good sense to hurry
his departure from those deserted and fatal regions, procuring from the
neighbouring villages eight men, who carried him in a litter made with
canes and branches of trees to Lâr. As soon as they had reached this
city, Chardin sent for the governor’s physician, who, understanding that
he was the shah’s merchant, came to him immediately. Our traveller was by
this time so weak that he could scarcely describe his feelings; and, as
well as the French surgeon, began to believe that his life was near its
close. The Persian Esculapius, however, who discovered the nature of the
disorder at a glance, assured him it was a mere trifle; that he needed
by no means be uneasy; and that, in fact, he would, with God’s blessing,
restore him to health that very day, nay, in a very few hours.

This dashing mode of dealing with disorders produced an excellent effect
upon the traveller’s mind. The hakīm seemed to hold Death by the beard,
to keep him in his toils, to curb him, or let him have his way at
pleasure. Chardin’s whole frame trembled with joy. He took the physician
by the hand, squeezed it as well as his strength would permit, and
looked up in his face as he would have looked upon his guardian-angel.
The hakīm, to whom these things were no novelties, proceeded, without
question or remark, to prescribe for his patient; and having done this,
he was about to retire, when the traveller cried out, “Sir, I am consumed
with heat!”—“I know that very well,” replied the hakīm; “but you shall
be cooled presently!” and with the word both he and his apothecary
disappeared.

About nine o’clock the young apothecary returned, bringing with him
a basketful of drugs, enough, to all appearance, to kill or cure a
regiment of patients. “For whom,” inquired Chardin, “are all those
medicines?”—“For you,” replied the young man; “these are what the hakīm
has ordered you to take this morning, and you must swallow them as
quickly as possible.” Fevers make men docile. The traveller immediately
began to do as he was commanded; but when he came to one of the large
bottles, his “gorge,” as Shakspeare phrases it, began to rise at it, and
he observed that it would be impossible to swallow that at a draught.
“Never mind,” said the young man, “you can take it at several draughts.”
Obedience followed, and the basketful of physic disappeared. “You will
presently,” observed the apothecary, “experience the most furious thirst;
and I would willingly give you ices to take, but there is neither ice nor
snow in the city except at the governor’s.” As his thirst would not allow
him to be punctilious, Chardin at once applied to the governor; and
succeeding in his enterprise, quenched his burning thirst with the most
delicious drinks in the world.

To render him as cool as possible his bed was spread upon the floor in
an open parlour, and so frequently sprinkled with water that the room
might almost be said to be flooded; but the fever still continuing, the
bed was exchanged for a mat, upon which he was extended in his shirt, and
fanned by two men. The disorder being still unsubdued, the patient was
placed upon a chair, where cold water was poured over him in profusion,
while the French surgeon, who was constantly by his side, and could not
restrain his indignation at seeing the ordinary rules of his practice
thus set at naught, exclaimed, “They are killing you, sir! Depend upon
it, that it is by killing you the hakīm means to remove your fever!”
The traveller, however, maintained his confidence in the Persian, and
had very soon the satisfaction of being informed that the fever had
already abated, and of perceiving that, instead of killing, the hakīm had
actually cured him. In one word, the disorder departed more rapidly than
it had come on, and in a few days he was enabled to continue his journey.

Remaining quietly at Ispahan during the space of a whole year after this
unfortunate excursion, he then departed from the capital for the court,
which still lingered at Casbin, in company with Mohammed Hussein Beg, son
of the governor of the island of Bahreint. This young man was conducting
from his father to the king a present, consisting of two wild bulls, with
long, black, sharp horns, an ostrich, and a number of rich Indian stuffs;
and being by no means a strict Mussulman, drinking wine and eating
heartily of a good dinner, whether cooked by Mohammedan or Christian, was
a very excellent travelling companion. On his arrival at Casbin, Chardin,
who was now extremely well known to all the grandees of the kingdom, was
agreeably and hospitably received by the courtiers, particularly by the
wife of the grand pontiff, who was the king’s aunt. This lady, in order
to manifest the friendship she entertained for him, though in consequence
of the peculiar manners of the country their souls only had met, made him
a present of eight chests of dried sweetmeats, scented with amber and the
richest perfumes of the East. Her husband was no less distinguished by
his friendship for our traveller, who nowhere in Persia experienced more
genuine kindness or generosity than from this noble family.

During this visit to Casbin, Chardin had the honour, as it is vulgarly
termed, of presenting two of his countrymen to the shah; and so powerful
is the force of habit and prejudice, that this able, learned, and
virtuous man really imagined it an honour to approach and converse
familiarly with an opium-eating, cruel, and unprincipled sot, merely
because he wore a tiara and could sport with the destinies of a great
empire! The nazir, in introducing the traveller, observed, “Sire, this
is Chardin, your merchant.” To which the shah replied, with a smile, “He
is a very dear merchant.”—“Your majesty is right,” added the nazir; “he
is a politic man; he has overreached the whole court.” This the minister
uttered with a smile; and he had a right to smile, says Chardin, for he
took especial care that quite the contrary should happen.

Chardin soon after this took his final leave of the court of Persia, and
returned by way of Ispahan to Bander-Abassi, whence he purposed sailing
by an English ship for Surat. The fear of falling into the hands of the
Dutch, then at war with France, prevented him, however, from putting
his design into execution; and relinquishing the idea of again visiting
Hindostan, he returned to Europe in 1677. Of the latter part of his life
few particulars are known. Prevented by religious considerations from
residing in his own country, where freedom of conscience was not to be
enjoyed, he selected England for his home, where, in all probability, he
became acquainted with many of the illustrious men who shed a glory over
that epoch of our history. It was in London, also, that he first met with
the lady whom he immediately afterward made his wife. Like himself, she
was a native of France and a Protestant, forced into banishment by the
apprehension of religious persecution. On the very day of his marriage
Chardin received the honour of knighthood from the hand of the gay and
profligate Charles II.

Having now recovered from the fever of travelling, the beautiful
Rouennaise in all probability aiding in the cure, Chardin devoted his
leisure to the composition of his “Travels’ History,” of which the first
volume appeared in London in 1686. While he was employed in preparing
the remainder of his works for the press, he was appointed the king’s
minister plenipotentiary or ambassador to the States of Holland, being at
the same time intrusted with the management of the East India Company’s
affairs in that country. His public duties, however, which could not
entirely occupy his mind, by no means prevented, though they considerably
delayed, the publication of the remainder of his travels; the whole of
which appeared, both in quarto and duodecimo, in 1711. Shortly after this
he returned to England, where he died in the neighbourhood of London,
1713, in the sixty-ninth year of his age.

The reputation of Chardin, which even before his death extended
throughout Europe and shed a lustre over his old age, is still on the
increase, and must be as durable as literature and civilization; his
merit not consisting in splendour of description or in erudite research,
though in these he is by no means deficient, but in that singular
sagacity which enabled him to penetrate into the heart and characters
of men, and to descend with almost unerring precision to the roots of
institutions and manners. No European seems to have comprehended the
Persians so completely; and no one has hitherto described them so well.
Religion, government, morals, manners, costume—every thing in which one
nation can differ from another—Chardin had studied in that bold and
original manner which characterizes the efforts of genius. His style,
though careless, and sometimes quaint, is not destitute of that _naïveté_
and ease which result from much experience and the consciousness of
intellectual power; and if occasionally it appear heavy and cumbrous in
its march, it more frequently quickens its movements, and hurries along
with natural gracefulness and facility. Without appearing desirous of
introducing himself to the reader further than the necessities of the
case require, he allows us to take so many glimpses of his character
and opinions, that by the time we arrive at the termination of his
travels we seem to be perfectly acquainted with both; and unless all
these indications be fallacious, so much talent, probity, and elegance
of manners has seldom been possessed by any traveller. Marco Polo was
gifted with a more exalted enthusiasm, and acquired a more extensive
acquaintance with the material phenomena of nature; Pietro della Valle
amuses the reader by wilder and more romantic adventures; Bernier is
more concise and severe; Volney more rigidly philosophical; but for
good sense, acuteness of observation, suavity of manner, and scrupulous
adherence to truth, no traveller, whether ancient or modern, is superior
to Chardin.




ENGELBERT KÆMPFER.

Born 1651.—Died 1716.


This distinguished traveller was born on the 16th of September, 1651, at
Lemgow, a small town in the territories of the Count de Lippe, in the
circle of Westphalia. His father, who was a clergyman, bestowed upon his
son a liberal education suitable to the medical profession, for which he
was designed. It is probable, however, that the numerous removals from
one city to another which took place in the course of his education,—his
studies, which commenced at Hameln, in the duchy of Brunswick, having
been successively pursued at Lunebourg, Hamburgh, Lubeck, Dantzick,
Thorn, Cracow, and Kœnigsberg,—communicated to his character a portion
of that restless activity and passion for vicissitude which marked his
riper years. But these changes of scene by no means impaired his ardour
for study. Indeed, the idea of one day opening himself a path to fame
as a traveller appears, on the contrary, to have imparted additional
keenness to his thirst for knowledge; his comprehensive and sagacious
mind very early discovering in how many ways a knowledge of antiquity, of
literature, and the sciences might further the project he had formed of
enlarging the boundaries of human experience.

Having during his stay at Kœnigsberg acquired a competent knowledge of
natural history and the theory of medicine, he returned at the age of
thirty to his own country; whence, after a brief visit, he again departed
for Prussia and Sweden. Wherever he went, the number and variety of
his acquirements, the urbanity of his manners, and the romance and
enthusiasm of his character rendered him a welcome guest, and procured
him the favour of warm and powerful friends. During his residence in this
country, at the university of Upsal and at Stockholm, he became known to
Rudbeck and Puffendorf, the father of the historian; and it was through
the interest of the latter that, rejecting the many advantageous offers
which were made for the purpose of tempting him to remain in Sweden, he
obtained the office of secretary to the embassy then about to be sent
into Persia. The object of this mission was partly commercial, partly
political; and as the Czar of Russia was indirectly concerned in its
contemplated arrangements, it was judged necessary that the ambassador
should proceed to Ispahan by the way of Moscow.

Our traveller departed from Stockholm March 20, 1683, with the presents
for the Shah of Persia, and, proceeding through Arland, Finland,
and Ingermunland, joined Louis Fabricius at Narva. On their arrival
at Moscow, where their reception was magnificent, the ambassador so
skilfully conducted his negotiations that in less than two months they
were enabled to pursue their journey. They accordingly descended the
Volga, and, embarking at Astrakan in a ship with two rudders, and two
pilots who belonged to different nations, and could not understand
each other, traversed the Caspian Sea, where they encountered a
violent tempest, and at length arrived at Nisabad. Here they found
the ambassadors of Poland and Russia, who had arrived a short time
previously, and were likewise on their way to Ispahan, and in their
company proceeded to Shamaki, the capital of Shirwan.

In this city, which they reached about the middle of December, they
remained a whole month, awaiting the reply of the shah to the governor
of Shirwan, who immediately upon their arrival had despatched a courier
to court for directions respecting the manner in which, the several
ambassadors were to be treated and escorted to Ispahan. This delay was
fortunate for Kæmpfer, as it enabled him to visit and examine the most
remarkable objects of curiosity in the neighbourhood, more particularly
the ancient city of Baku, renowned for its eternal fire; the naphtha
springs of Okesra; the burning fountains and mephitic wells; and the
other wonders of that extraordinary spot. Upon this excursion he set out
from Shamakia on the 4th of January, 1684, accompanied by another member
of the legation, two Armenians, and an Abyssinian interpreter. Their
road, during the first part of this day’s journey, lay over a fine plain
abounding in game; having passed which, they arrived about noon at the
village of Pyru Resah. Here a storm, attended with a heavy fall of snow,
preventing their continuing their journey any farther that day, they took
possession of a kind of vaulted stable, which the inhabitants in their
simplicity denominated a caravansary; and kindling a blazing fire with
dried wormwood and other similar plants, which emitted a most pungent
smoke, contrived to thaw their limbs and keep themselves warm until the
morning.

Next morning they continued their route, at first through a mountainous
and desert country buried in snow, and afterward through a plain of
milder temperature, but both equally uninhabited, no living creature
making its appearance, excepting a number of eagles perched upon the
summits of the heights, and here and there a flock of antelopes browsing
upon the plain. Lodging this night also in a caravansary in the desert,
and proceeding next day through similar scenes, they arrived in the
afternoon at Baku. The aspect of this city, the narrowness of the gate,
the strange ornaments of the walls, the peculiarity of the site, the
structure of the houses, the squalid countenances of the inhabitants,
and the novelty of every object which presented itself, inspired our
traveller with astonishment. It happening to be market-day, the streets
were crowded with people, who, being little accustomed to strangers,
and having never before seen a negro, crowded obstreperously around
the travellers, and followed them with hooting, shouting, and clamour
to their lodgings. An old man, who had officiously undertaken to
provide them with an apartment, conducted them through the mob of his
townsfolk, which was every moment becoming more dense, to a small mud
hut, situated in a deserted part of the city, and from its dismal and
miserable appearance, rather resembling the den of a wild beast than a
human dwelling. Having entered this new cave of Trophonius, and shut the
door behind them, the travellers, as Kæmpfer jocosely observes, began to
offer up their thanks to the tutelary god of the place, for affording
them an asylum from the insolence of the rabble. But their triumph was
premature. The mob, whose curiosity was by no means to be satisfied with
a passing glance, ascended the roof of the den in crowds, and before the
travellers could spread out their carpets and lie down, the crashing
roof, the lattices broken, and the door, which they had fastened with a
beam, violently battered, warned them that it was necessary to escape
before they should be overwhelmed by the ruins. It was now thought
advisable that they should endeavour, by exhibiting themselves and their
Ethiopian interpreter, whom the Bakuares unquestionably mistook for
some near relation of the devil’s, to conciliate their persecutors, and
purchase the privilege of sleeping in peace. They therefore removed the
beam, and issuing forth, Abyssinian and all, into the midst of the crowd,
allowed them time to gaze until they were tired. Presently after this the
governor of the city arrived; but, instead of affording his protection
to the strangers, as a man in his station should have done, he accused
them of being spies, and having overwhelmed them with menaces, which he
seems to have uttered for the purpose of enhancing his own dignity in the
estimation of the multitude, departed, leaving them to enact the spies at
their discretion.

Being now left in undisturbed possession of their hut, and there still
remaining some hours of daylight, they prevailed upon their host, by dint
of a small bribe, to show them the citadel, situated in the loftiest
and most deserted part of the city. Returning from thence, they were
met by the beadles of the town, who conducted them, with their beasts
and baggage, to the public caravansary, though their host and guide
had denied the existence of any such building; and while this ancient
deceiver was hurried off before the magistrates, our travellers sat down
to supper and some excellent wine. Next morning Kæmpfer issued forth,
disguised as a groom, to examine the remainder of the city, while his
companions loaded their beasts, and, the keeper of the caravansary being
absent, slipped out of the city, and waited until he should join them at
a little distance upon the road. Having escaped from this inhospitable
place, they proceeded to examine the small peninsula of Okesra, a tongue
of land about three leagues in length, and half a league in breadth,
which projects itself into the Caspian to the south of Baku. This spot,
like the Phlegræan fields, appears to be but a thin crust of earth
superimposed upon an internal gulf of liquid fire, which, escaping into
upper air through a thousand fissures, scorches the earth to dust in some
places; in others, presents to the eye a portion of its surface, boiling,
eddying, noisome, dark, wrapped in infernal clouds, and murmuring like
the fabled waters of hell. Here and there sharp, lofty cones of naked
rocks, composed, like the summits of the Caucasus, of conchylaceous
petrifactions, shoot up from the level of the plain, and on the northern
part of the peninsula are sometimes divided by cultivated valleys. On the
summit of one of these eminences they perceived the ruins of a castle,
in former times the residence of a celebrated imam, who had taken refuge
in these wild scenes from the persecution of the race of Omar.

Still proceeding towards the south they arrived, in about an hour from
these ruins, upon the margin of a burning field, the surface of which was
strewed with a pale white sand, and heaps of ashes; while, from numerous
gaping rents, rushing flames, black smoke, or bluish steam, strongly
impregnated with the scent of naphtha, burst up in a singularly striking
manner. When the superincumbent sand was removed, whether upon the edge
of the fissures, or in any other part of the field, a light rock, porous,
and worm-eaten, as it were, like pumice-stone, was discovered; which,
as well as the substratum of the whole peninsula, consisted of shelly
petrifactions. Here they found about ten persons occupied in different
labours about the fires; some being employed in attending to a number
of copper or earthen vessels, placed over the least intense of the
burning fissures, in which they were cooking dinner for the inhabitants
of a neighbouring village; while others were piling stones brought from
other places into heaps, to be burnt into lime. Apart from these sat two
Parsees, the descendants of the ancient inhabitants of Persia, beside a
small wall of dry stones which they had piled up, contemplating with holy
awe and veneration the fiercely ascending flames, which they regard as an
emblem of the eternal God.

One of the lime-burners now came up to the travellers, and said that for
a small reward he would show them a very extraordinary spectacle. When
they had given him some trifle, he plucked a few threads of cotton from
his garment, and twisting them upon the end of his rake, went and held
them over one of the burning fissures, where they were instantly kindled.
He then held the rake over another rent, from which neither flame nor
smoke ascended, and in an instant the gaseous exhalation, previously
invisible, was kindled, and shot up into a tall, bright flame, like that
of a vast gas lamp, which, after burning furiously for some time, to the
unspeakable astonishment of the strangers, died away and disappeared.
Similar phenomena are observed in several parts of the Caucasus,
particularly in the chasms of Mount Shubanai, about four days’ journey
from Okesra.

From this place they were conducted to the fountains of white naphtha,
where the substance oozed out of the earth as clear as crystal, but
in small quantities. Kæmpfer was surprised to find the wells left
unprotected even by a wall; for if by any accident they were set on fire,
as those near Ecbatana were in ancient times, as we learn from Plutarch,
they would continue to burn for ever with inextinguishable violence.
Having likewise visited the wells of black naphtha, where this pitchy
oil bubbled up out of the earth with a noise like that of a torrent, and
in such abundance that it supplied many countries with lamp oil, our
travellers repaired to a neighbouring village to pass the night. Here
they fared more sumptuously than at Baku; and having supped deliciously
upon figs, grapes, apples, and pomegranates, their unscrupulous hosts,
notwithstanding that they were Mohammedans, unblushingly offered to
provide them with wine and courtesans! Kæmpfer preferring to pass the
evening in learning such particulars as they could furnish respecting the
ancient and modern condition of their country, they merrily crowded about
him, and each in his turn imparted what he knew. When their information
was exhausted, they formed themselves into a kind of wild chorus,
alternately reciting rude pieces of poetry, and proceeding by degrees to
singing and dancing, afforded their guests abundant amusement by their
strange attitudes and gestures.

Rising next morning with the dawn, they proceeded to view what is termed
by the inhabitants the naphtha hell. Ascending a small hemispherical
hill, they found its summit occupied by a diminutive lake, not exceeding
fifty paces in circumference, the crumbling, marshy margin of which
could only be trodden with the utmost caution. The water, which lay like
a black sheet below, had a muriatic taste; and a strange hollow sound,
arising out of the extremest depths of the lake, continually smote upon
the ear, and increased the horror inspired by the aspect of the place.
From time to time black globules of naphtha came bubbling up to the
surface of the water, and were gradually impelled towards the shore,
where, mixing with earthy particles, they incessantly increased the
crust which on all sides encroached upon the lake, and impended over its
infernal gloom. At a short distance from this hill there was a mountain
which emitted a kind of black ooze impregnated with bitumen, which, being
hardened by the sun as it flowed down over the sides of the mountain,
gave the whole mass the appearance of a prodigious cone of pitch. In
the northern portion of the peninsula they beheld another singular
phenomenon, which was a hill, through the summit of which, as through a
vast tube, immense quantities of potter’s earth ascended, as if impelled
upwards by some machine, and having risen to a considerable height, burst
by its own weight, and rolled down the naked side of the hill. In this
little peninsula nature seems to have elaborated a thousand wonders,
which, however, while they astonish, are useful to mankind. It was with
the produce of Okesra that Milton lighted up his Pandæmonium:—

                From the arched roof,
    Pendent by subtle magic, many a row
    Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed
    With _naphtha_ and _asphaltus_, yielded light
    As from a sky.

Returning to Shamakin, which Kæmpfer erroneously supposes to be the
Rhaya of the Bible, our traveller a few days afterward departed for
Ispahan, where he remained nearly two years. Shah Solyman, the prince
then reigning, whose character and court have been so admirably described
by Chardin, was a man whose feeble constitution and feebler mind rendered
him a slave to physicians and astrologers. He was now, by the counsel
of his stargazers, a voluntary prisoner in his own palace, a malignant
constellation, as they affirmed, menacing him with signal misfortunes
should he venture abroad. On the 30th of July, however, the sinister
influence of the stars no longer preventing him, he held a public levee
with the utmost splendour and magnificence; upon which occasion, as
Asiatic princes are peculiarly desirous of appearing to advantage in the
eyes of strangers, all the foreign ambassadors then in the capital were
admitted to an audience. Though the representatives of several superior
nations, as of France, Germany, and Russia, to say nothing of those of
Poland, Siam, or of the pope, were present, the ambassador of Sweden
obtained, I know not wherefore, the precedence over them all. Probably
neither the shah nor his ministers understood the comparative merits
of the various nations of Europe, and regulated their conduct by the
personal character of the envoys; and it would seem that Lewis Fabricius
possessed the secret of rendering himself agreeable to the court of
Persia.

Meanwhile Kæmpfer, who lost no opportunity of penetrating into the
character and observing the manners of a foreign people, employed his
leisure in collecting materials for the various works which he meditated.
He bestowed particular attention upon the ceremonies and observances
of the court; the character and actions of the shah; the form of
government; the great officers of state; the revenue and forces; and the
religion, customs, dress, food, and manners of the people. His principal
inquiries, however, both here and elsewhere, had medicine and natural
history for their object; and that his researches were neither barren nor
frivolous is demonstrated by his “Amœnitates Exoticæ,” one of the most
instructive and amusing books which have ever been written on the East.

Towards the conclusion of the year 1686, M. Fabricius, having
successfully terminated his negotiations with the Persian court, prepared
to leave Ispahan; but Germany being still, says Kæmpfer, engaged in
war with France and the Ottoman Porte, he preferred relinquishing his
office of secretary to the embassy, and pushing his fortunes in the
remoter countries of the East, to the idea of beholding, and perhaps
involving himself in the calamities of his native land, which, however
he might deplore, he had no power to remedy or alleviate. He therefore
took his leave of the ambassador, who did him the honour to accompany
him with all his retinue a mile out of Ispahan, and proceeded towards
Gombroon, or Bander-Abassi, having, by the friendship of Father du Mons,
and the recommendations of M. Fabricius, obtained the office of chief
surgeon to the fleet of the Dutch East India Company, then cruising in
the Persian Gulf. He long hesitated, he says, whether he should select
Egypt or the “Farther East” for the field of his researches; and had
not circumstances, which frequently stand in the place of destiny,
interposed, it is probable that the charms of the Nile would have proved
the more powerful. To a man like Kæmpfer, the offer of becoming _chief
physician_ to a Georgian Prince, “with considerable appointments,” which
was made him about this time, could have held out but small temptation,
as he must have been thoroughly acquainted, not only with the general
poverty of both prince and people, but likewise with the utter insecurity
of person and property in that wretched country.

It was during this journey that he visited the celebrated ruins of
Persepolis. He arrived in sight of the Forty Pillars on the 1st of
December, 1686; and looking towards this scene of ancient magnificence,
where the choicest of the population of a vast empire had once sported
like butterflies in the sun, his eye encountered about fifty black
Turcoman tents upon the plain, before the doors of which sat a number
of women engaged in weaving, while their husbands and children were
amusing themselves in the tents, or absent with the flocks and herds. Not
having seen the simple apparatus which enables the Hindoos to produce
the finest fabrics in the world, whether in chintzes or muslins, Kæmpfer
beheld with astonishment the comparatively excellent productions of these
rude looms, and the skill and industry of the Persepolitan Calypsos,
whose fair fingers thus emulated the illustrious labours of the Homeric
goddesses and queens. It was not within the power of his imagination,
however, inflamed as it was by the gorgeous descriptions of Diodorus and
other ancient historians, to bestow a moment upon any thing modern in
the presence of those mysterious and prodigious ruins, sculptured with
characters which no longer speak to the eye, and exhibiting architectural
details which the ingenuity of these “degenerate days” lacks the acumen
to interpret. Here, if we may conjecture from the solemn splendour of
the language in which he relates what he saw, his mind revelled in those
dreamy delights which are almost inevitably inspired by the sight of
ancient monuments rent, shattered, and half-obliterated by time.

Having gratified his antiquarian curiosity by the examination of these
memorials of Alexander’s passion for Thaïs, who,—

    Like another Helen, fired another Troy,—

he continued his journey to Shiraz, where beauties of another kind,
exquisite, to use his own language, beyond credibility, and marvellously
varied, refreshed the eye, and seemed to efface from the mind all
recollection of the fact that the earth contained such things as graves
or ruins. The effervescence of animal spirits occasioned by the air and
aspect of scenes so delicious appeared for the moment to justify the
enthusiasm of the Persian poet, who, half-intoxicated with the perfume of
the atmosphere, exclaims:—

    Boy, bid yon ruby liquid flow,
    And let thy pensive heart be glad,
    Whate’er the frowning zealots say;
    Tell them their Eden cannot show
    A stream so pure as Rocknabad,
    A bower so sweet as Mosellay!

But, with all its beauty, Shiraz contains nothing which raises so
powerful an enthusiasm in the soul as two tombs,—the tomb of the bard
who sung the beauties of the Rocknabad, and of the moral author of
the “Rose Garden;” irresistible and lasting are the charms of poetry
and eloquence! Our traveller having acquired at Ispahan sufficient
knowledge of the Persian language to enable him to relish _Hafiz_,
though he complains that he is difficult, as well as the easier and more
popular _Saadi_, whose sayings are in Persia “familiar to their mouths
as household words,” it was impossible that he should pass through the
city where their honoured ashes repose without paying a pious visit to
the spot. Having contemplated these illustrious mausoleums with that
profound veneration which the memory of genius inspires, he returned to
his caravansary half-persuaded, with the Persians, that they who do not
study and treasure up in their souls the maxims of such divine poets can
neither be virtuous nor happy.

From the poets of Shiraz he naturally turned to its roses and its wine;
the former, in his opinion, the most fragrant upon earth; and the latter
the most balmy and delicious. In his history and description of this
wine, one of the most agreeable articles in his “Amœnitates,” there
is a kind of bacchic energy and enthusiasm, a rhapsodical affectation
of sesquipedalian words, which would seem to indicate that even the
remembrance of this oriental nectar has the power of elevating the animal
spirits. But whatever were the delights of Shiraz, it was necessary to
bid them adieu; and inwardly exclaiming with the calif, “How sweetly we
live if a shadow would last!” he turned his back upon Mosellay and the
Rocknabad, and pursued his route towards Gombroon.

Here, if he was pleased with contrasts, he could not fail to be highly
gratified; for no two places upon earth could be more unlike than Shiraz
and Gombroon. It was the pestilential air of this detestable coast
that had deprived Della Valle of his Maani, and reduced Chardin to the
brink of the grave; and Kæmpfer had not been there many months before
he experienced in his turn the deadly effects of breathing so inflamed
and insalubrious an atmosphere, from which, in the summer season, even
the natives are compelled to fly to the mountains. Though no doubt the
causes had long been at work, the effect manifested itself suddenly in
a malignant fever, in which he lay delirious for several days. When the
violence of this disorder abated, it was successively followed by a
dropsy and a quartan ague, through which dangerous and unusual steps,
as Dr. Scheuchzer observes, he recovered his health, though not his
former strength and vigour. Admonished by this rough visitation, he
now had recourse to those means for the restoration of his strength
which a more rigid prudence would have taught him to put in practice
for its preservation, and removed with all possible expedition into the
mountainous districts of Laristân.

On the 16th of June, 1686, at least six weeks after every other sane
person had fled from the place, Kæmpfer set out from Gombroon, sitting in
a pannier suspended from the back of a camel, being too weak to ride on
horseback, and attended by a servant mounted upon an ass, while another
animal of the same species carried his cooking apparatus and provisions.
To shield himself from the burning winds which swept with incredible fury
along these parched and naked plains, he stretched a small sheet over
his head, which, falling down on both sides of the pannier, served as a
kind of tent. Thus covered, he contrived to keep himself tolerably cool
by continually wetting the sheet on the inside; but being clothed in an
exceedingly thin garment, open in several parts, he next day found that
wherever the wet sheet had touched him the skin peeled off as if it had
been burned. Having procured the assistance of a guide, they deserted the
ordinary road, and struck off by a less circuitous, but more difficult
track, through the mountains. The prospect for some time was as dull and
dreary as could be imagined; consisting of a succession of sandy deserts,
here and there interspersed with small salt ponds, the glittering mineral
crust of which showed like so many sheets of snow by the light of the
stars.

At length, late on the night of the 20th, though the darkness precluded
the possibility of perceiving the form of surrounding objects, he
discovered by the aroma of plants and flowers diffused through the air
that he was approaching a verdant and cultivated spot; and continuing his
journey another day over a rocky plain, he arrived at the foot of the
mountains. Here he found woody and well-watered valleys alternating with
steep and craggy passes, which inspired him with terror as he gazed at
their frowning and tremendous brows from below. By dint of perseverance,
however, he at length reached the summit of Mount Bonna, or at least
the highest inhabited part, though spiry rocks shooting up above this
mountain plateau on every side intercepted all view of the surrounding
country. The chief of the mountain village in which he intended to
reside received him hospitably, and on the very morning after his arrival
introduced him to the spot where he was to remain during his stay. This
was a kind of garden exposed to the north-east, and therefore cool and
airy. Ponds of water, cascades, narrow ravines, overhanging rocks, and
shady trees rendered it a delightful retreat; but as the Persians as well
as the Turks regard our habit of pacing backwards and forwards as no
better than madness, there were no walks worthy of the name. When showers
of rain or any other cause made him desire shelter, he betook himself
to a small edifice in the garden, where his only companion was a large
serpent, which ensconced itself in a hole directly opposite to his couch,
where it passed the night, but rolled out early in the morning to bask in
the sun upon the rocks. Upon a sunny spot in the garden he daily observed
two delicate little chameleons, which, he was persuaded, were delighted
with his society; for at length one or the other of them would follow
him into the house, either to enjoy the warmth of the fire, or to pick
up such crumbs as might drop from his table during dinner. If observed,
however, it would utter a sound like the gentle laugh of a child, and
spring off to its home in the trees. He was shortly afterward joined
by another German invalid from Gombroon, whom he appears to have found
preferable as a companion both to the serpent and the chameleon.

Having now no other object than to amuse himself and recover his health,
he indulged whatever fancy came uppermost; at one time examining the
plants and trees of the mountain, and at another joining a party of
mountaineers in hunting that singular species of antelope in the
stomach of which the bezoar is found. The chase of this fleet and
timid animal required the hunters to be abroad before day, when they
concealed themselves in some thicket or cavern, or beneath the brows of
overhanging rocks, near the springs to which it usually repaired with
the dawn to drink. They knew, from some peculiarities in the external
appearance of the beasts, such individuals as certainly contained the
bezoar in their stomach from those which did not; and in all his various
excursions Kæmpfer requested his companions to fire at the former only.

In these same mountains there was an extraordinary cavern concealed
among rugged and nearly inaccessible precipices, from the sides of which
there constantly exuded a precious balsam of a black colour, inodorous,
and almost tasteless, but of singular efficacy in all disorders of the
bowels. The same district likewise contained several hot-baths, numerous
trees and plants, many of which were unknown in Europe, and a profusion
of those fierce animals, such as leopards, bears, and hyenas, which
constitute the game of an Asiatic sportsman.

Remaining in these mountains until he considered his strength
sufficiently restored, he returned to Gombroon. During his residence in
Persia, which was nearly of four years’ continuance, he collected so
large a quantity of new and curious information, that notwithstanding
that most of the spots he describes had been visited by former
travellers, his whole track seems to run over an untrodden soil; so
true is it that it is the mind of the traveller, far more than the
material scene, which furnishes the elements of interest and novelty.
The history of this part of his travels, therefore, the results of which
are contained in his “Amœnitates,” seemed to deserve being given at
some length. To that curious volume I refer the reader for his ample
and interesting history of the generation, growth, culture, and uses of
the date-palm; his description of that remarkable balsamic juice called
_muminahi_ by the Persians, and mumia, or munmy, by Kæmpfer, which exudes
from a rock in the district of Daraab, and was annually collected with
extraordinary pomp and ceremony for the sole use of the Persian king; and
the curious account which he has given of the _asafœtida_ plant, said
to be produced only in Persia; the _filaria medinensis_, or worm which
breeds between the interstices of the muscles in various parts of the
human body; and the real oriental dragon’s blood, which is obtained from
a coniferous palm.

About the latter end of June, 1688, he sailed on board the Dutch fleet
from Gombroon, which having orders to touch at Muscat and several other
ports of Arabia, he enjoyed an opportunity of observing something of
the climate and productions of that country, from whose spicy shore,
to borrow the language of Milton, Sabæan odours are diffused by the
north-east winds, when,—

    Pleased with the grateful smell, old Ocean smiles!

Proceeding eastward through the Indian Ocean, they successively visited
the north-western coasts of the Deccan, the kingdoms of Malabar, the
island of Ceylon, the Gulf of Bengal, and Sumatra; all which countries he
viewed with the same curious eye, the same spirit of industry and thirst
of knowledge.

Upwards of a year was spent in this delightful voyage, the fleet not
arriving at Batavia, its ultimate point of destination, until the month
of September, 1689. Kæmpfer regarded this chief seat of the Dutch
power in the East as a hackneyed topic, and neglected to bestow any
considerable research or pains upon its history or appearance, its trade,
riches, power, or government; but the natural history of the country, a
subject more within the scope of his taste and studies, as well as more
superficially treated by others, commanded much of his attention. The
curious and extensive garden of Cornelius Van Outhoorn, director-general
of the Dutch East India Company, the garden of M. Moller, and the little
island of Eidam, lying but a few leagues off Batavia, afforded a number
of rare and singular plants, indigenous and exotic, many of which he was
the first to observe and describe.

It was at that period the policy of the Dutch to send an annual embassy
to the court of Japan, the object of which was to extend and give
stability to their commercial connexion with that country. Kæmpfer, who
had now been eight months in Batavia, and appears during that period to
have made many powerful and useful friends, obtained the signal favour of
being appointed physician to the embassy; and one of the ships receiving
orders to touch at Siam, the authorities, to enhance the obligation,
permitted him to perform the voyage in this vessel, that an opportunity
might be afforded him of beholding the curiosities of that country.

He sailed from Batavia on the 7th of May, 1690; and steering through
the Thousand Islands, having the lofty mountains of Java and Sumatra in
sight during two days, arrived in thirteen days at Puli Timon, a small
island on the eastern coast of Malacca. The natives, whom he denominates
banditti, were a dark, sickly-looking race, who, owing to their habit of
plucking out their beard, a custom likewise prevalent in Sumatra and the
Malay peninsula, had all the appearance of ugly old women. Their dress
consisted of a coarse cummerbund, or girdle, and a hat manufactured from
the leaves of the sago-palm. They understood nothing of the use of money;
but willingly exchanged their incomparable mangoes, figs, pineapples, and
fowls for linen shirts, rice, or iron. On the 6th of June they arrived
safely in the mouth of the Meinam, and cast anchor before Siam, where
our traveller’s passion for botany immediately led him into the woods
in search of plants; but as tigers and other wild beasts were here the
natural lords of the soil, it was fortunate that his herborizing did not
cost him dearer than he intended.

In this country, which has recently been so ably described by Mr.
Crawfurd, the historian of the Indian Archipelago, Kæmpfer made but
a short stay. In the capital, which formed the extreme limit of his
knowledge, he observed a great number of temples and schools, adorned
with pyramids and columns of various forms, covered with gilding. Though
smaller than European churches in dimension, they were, he thought,
greatly superior in beauty, on account of their numerous bending and
projecting roofs, gilded architraves, porticoes, pillars, and other
ornaments. In the interior, the great number of gilded images of Buddha,
seated in long rows upon raised terraces, whence they seemed to overlook
the worshippers, increased the picturesque character of the building.
Some of these statues were of enormous size, exceeding not only that
Phidian Jupiter, represented in a sitting posture, which, had it risen,
must have lifted up the roof of the temple, but even those prodigious
statues of Osymandyas, on the plains of Upper Egypt, which look like
petrifactions of Typhæus and Enceladus, the Titans who cast Pelion upon
Ossa. One of these gigantic images, one hundred and twenty feet long,
represents Buddha reclining in a meditative posture, and has set the
fashion in Siam for the attitude in which wisdom may be most successfully
wooed.

In sailing down the Meinam he was greatly amused with the extraordinary
number of black and gray monkeys, which walked like pigmy armies along
the shore, or perched themselves upon the tops of the loftiest trees,
like crows. The glowworms, he observes, afforded another curious
spectacle; for, setting upon trees, like a fiery cloud, the whole swarm
would spread themselves over its branches, sometimes hiding their light
all at once, and a moment after shining forth again with the utmost
regularity and exactness, as if they were in a perpetual systole and
diastole. The innumerable swarms of mosquitoes which inhabited the
same banks were no less constant and active, though less agreeable
companions, which, from the complaints of our traveller, appear to have
taken a peculiar pleasure in stinging Dutchmen.

They left the mouth of the river on the 7th of July, and on the 11th of
August discovered the mountains of Fokien in China. Continuing their
course along the southern coast of this empire, they observed, about the
twenty-seventh degree of north latitude, a yellowish-green substance
floating on the surface of the sea, which appeared for two days. Exactly
at the same time they were visited by a number of strange black birds,
which perched on several parts of the ship, and suffered themselves to
be taken by the hand. These visits, which were made during a dead calm,
and when the weather was insufferably hot, was succeeded by tremendous
storms, accompanied by thunder and lightning, and a darkness terrible as
that of Egypt. The rain, which was now added to the other menaces of the
heavens, and was hurled, mingled with brine and spray, over the howling
waves, appeared to threaten a second deluge; and both Kæmpfer and the
crew seem to have anticipated becoming a prey to the sharks. However,
though storm after storm beat upon them in their course, the “audax genus
Japeti” boldly pursued their way, and on the 24th of September cast
anchor in the harbour of Nangasaki, in Japan, which is enclosed with
lofty mountains, islands, and rocks, and thus guarded by nature against
the rage of the sea and the fury of the tempest.

The appearance of this harbour, which on the arrival of Kæmpfer was
enlivened by a small fleet of pleasure-boats, was singularly picturesque.
In the evening all the vessels and boats put up their lights, which
twinkled like so many stars, over the dark waves; and when the warm light
of the morning appeared, the pleasure-boats, with their alternate black
and white sails, standing out of the port, and gilded by the bright
sunshine, constituted an agreeable spectacle. The next sight was equally
striking. This consisted of a number of Japanese officers, with pencil
and paper in hand, who came on board for the purpose of reviewing the
newly-arrived foreigners, of whom, after narrowly scrutinizing every
individual, they made an exact list and description of their persons,
in the same manner as we describe thieves and suspicious characters in
Europe. All their arms and ammunition, together with their boat and
skiff, were demanded and delivered up. Their prayer-books and European
money they concealed in a cask, which was carefully stowed away out of
the reach of the Japanese.

Kæmpfer quitted the ship as soon as possible, and took up his residence
at Desima, a small island adjoining Nangasaki, or only separated from it
by an artificial channel. Here he forthwith commenced the study of the
language, and the contrivance of the means of acquiring from a people
bound by a solemn oath to impart nothing to foreigners such information
respecting the country, its institutions, religion, and manners as might
satisfy the curiosity of the rest of mankind respecting so singular a
nation. The difficulties, he observes, with which he had to contend were
great, but not altogether insuperable; and might be overcome by proper
management, notwithstanding all the precautions which the Japanese
government had taken to the contrary. The Japanese, a prudent and valiant
nation, were not so easily to be bound by an oath taken to such gods or
spirits as were not worshipped by many, and were unknown to most; or if
they did comply, it was chiefly from fear of the punishment which would
inevitably overtake them if betrayed. Besides, though proud and warlike,
they were as curious and polite a nation as any in the world, naturally
inclined to commerce and familiarity with foreigners, and desirous to
excess of acquiring a knowledge of their histories, arts, and sciences.
But the Dutch being merchants, a class of men which they ranked among
the lowest of the human race, and viewed with jealousy and mistrust even
for the very slavish and suspicious condition in which they were held,
our traveller could discover no mode of insinuating himself into their
friendship, and winning them over to his interest, but by evincing a
readiness to comply with their desires, a liberality which subdued their
avarice, and an humble and submissive manner which flattered their vanity.

By these means, as he ingenuously confesses, he contrived, like another
Ulysses, to subdue the spells of religion and government; and having
gained the friendship and good opinion of the interpreters and the
officers who commanded in Desima, to a degree never before possessed
by any European, the road to the knowledge he desired lay open and
level before him. It would, indeed, have been no easy task to resist
the methods he put in practice for effecting his purpose. He liberally
imparted to them both medicine and medical advice, and whatever knowledge
he possessed in astronomy and mathematics; he likewise furnished them
with a liberal supply of European spirituous liquors; and these, joined
with the force of captivating manners, were arguments irresistible. He
was therefore permitted by degrees to put whatever questions he pleased
to them respecting their government, civil and ecclesiastical, the
political and natural history of the country, the manners and customs
of the natives, or any other point upon which he required information;
even in those matters on which the most inviolable secrecy was enjoined
by their oaths. The materials thus collected, however, though highly
important and serviceable, were far from being altogether satisfactory,
or sufficient foundation whereon to erect a history of the country;
which, therefore, he must have left unattempted had not his good genius
presented him with other still more ample means of knowledge.

Upon his arrival in Desima young man of about four-and-twenty, prudent,
sagacious, indefatigable, thoroughly acquainted with the languages of
China and Japan, and ardently desirous of improving himself in knowledge,
was appointed to attend upon him, in the double capacity of servant and
pupil. This young man had the good fortune, while under the direction of
Kæmpfer, to cure the governor of the island of some complaint under which
he laboured; for which important service he was permitted, apparently
contrary to rule, to remain in the service of our traveller during the
whole of his stay in Japan, and even to accompany him on his two journeys
to the capital. In order to derive all possible advantage from the
friendship of his pupil, Kæmpfer taught him Dutch, as well as anatomy and
surgery; and moreover allowed him a handsome salary. The Japanese was not
ungrateful. He collected with the utmost assiduity from every accessible
source such information as his master required; and there was not a book
which Kæmpfer desired to consult that he did not contrive to procure for
him, and explain whenever his explanation was necessary.

About the middle of February, 1691, the customary presents having been
got ready, and the necessary preparations made, the Dutch embassy set out
from Nangasaki for the court of the emperor, with Kæmpfer and his pupil
in its train. Having got fairly out of the city they proceeded on their
journey, passing through the small village of Mangome, wholly inhabited
by leather-tanners, who perform the office of public executioners
in Japan; and in about two hours passed a stone pillar marking the
boundaries of the territory of Nangasaki. Here and there upon the wayside
they beheld the statue of Zisos, the god of travellers, hewn out of
the solid rock, with a lamp burning before it, and wreaths of flowers
adorning its brows. At a little distance from the image of the god stood
a basin full of water, in which such travellers performed their ablutions
as designed to light the sacred lamps, or make any other offering in
honour of the divinity.

Towards the afternoon of the first day’s journey they arrived at the
harbour of Omura, on the shore of which they observed the smoke of a
small volcano. Pearl oysters were found in this bay; and the sands upon
the coast had once been strewn with gold, but the encroachment of the sea
had inundated this El Doradian beach. Next morning they passed within
sight of a prodigious camphor-tree, not less than thirty-six feet in
circumference, standing upon the summit of a craggy and pointed hill;
and soon afterward arrived at a village famous for its hot-baths. After
passing through another village, they reached a celebrated porcelain
manufactory, where the clay used was of a fat-coloured white, requiring
much kneading, washing, and cleansing, before it could be employed in
the formation of the finer and more transparent vessels. The vast labour
required in this manufacture gave rise to the old saying, that porcelain
was formed of human bones.

The country through which they now travelled was agreeably diversified
with hill and dale, cultivated like a garden, and sprinkled with
beautiful fields of rice, enclosed by rows of the tea-shrub, planted at
a short distance from the road. On the next day they entered a plain
country, watered by numerous rivers, and laid out in rice-fields like
the former. In passing through this district they had for the first time
an opportunity of observing the form and features of the women of the
province of Fisen. Though already mothers, and attended by a numerous
progeny, they were so diminutive in stature that they appeared to be so
many girls, while the paint which covered their faces gave them the air
of great babies or dolls. They were handsome, however, notwithstanding
that, in their quality of married women, they had plucked out the hair of
both eyebrows; and their behaviour was agreeable and genteel. At Sanga,
the capital of the province, he remarked the same outrageous passion
for painting the face in all the sex, though they were naturally the
most beautiful women in Asia; and, as might be conjectured from the rosy
colour of their lips, possessed a fine healthy complexion.

Upon quitting the province of Fisen, and entering that of Toussima,
a mountainous and rugged country, they travelled in a rude species
of palanquin called a cango, being nothing more than a small square
basket, open on all sides, though covered at top, and carried upon a
pole by two bearers. In ascending the mountain of Fiamitz they passed
through a village, the inhabitants of which, they were told, were all
the descendants of one man, who was then living. Whether this was true
or not, Kæmpfer found them so handsome and well formed, and at the same
time so polished and humane in their conversation and manners, that they
seemed to be a race of noblemen. The scenery in this district resembled
some of the woody and mountainous parts of Germany, consisting of a
rapid succession of hills and valleys, covered with copses or woods; and
though in some few places too barren to admit of cultivation, yet, where
fertile, so highly valued, that even the tea-shrub was only allowed to
occupy the space usually allotted to enclosures.

On the 17th of February they reached the city of Kokura, in the province
of Busen. Though considerably fallen from its ancient opulence and
splendour, Kokura was still a large city, fortified by towers and
bastions, adorned with many curious gardens and public buildings, and
inhabited by a numerous population. Here they moved through two long
lines of people, who lined both sides of the way, and knelt in profound
silence while they passed. They then embarked in barges; and, sailing
across the narrow strait which divides the island of Kiersu from Nisson,
landed at Simonoseki in the latter island, the name of which signified
the prop of the sun. Next day being Sunday, they remained at Simonoseki;
and Kæmpfer strolled out to view the city and its neighbourhood. He found
it filled with shops of all kinds, among which were those of certain
stonecutters, who, from a black and gray species of serpentine stone,
dug from the quarries in the vicinity, manufactured inkstands, plates,
boxes, and several other articles, with great neatness and ingenuity.
He likewise visited a temple erected to the manes of a young prince who
had prematurely perished. This he found hung, like their theatres, with
black crape, while the pavement was partly covered with carpets inwrought
with silver. The statue of the royal youth stood upon an altar; and
the Japanese who accompanied our traveller bowed before it, while the
attendant priest lit up a lamp, and pronounced a kind of funeral oration
in honour of the illustrious dead. From the temple they were conducted
into the adjoining monastery, where they found the prior, a thin,
grave-looking old man, clothed in a robe of black crape, who sat upon the
floor; and making a small present to the establishment, they departed.

Next morning, February 19th, they embarked for Osaki, preferring the
voyage by water to a toilsome journey over a rude and mountainous region;
and, after sailing through a sea thickly studded with small islands,
the greater number of which were fertile and covered with population,
arrived in five days at their point of destination. Osaki, one of the
five imperial cities of Japan, was a place of considerable extent
and great opulence. The streets were broad, and in the centre of the
principal ones ran a canal, navigable for small unmasted vessels, which
conveyed all kinds of merchandise to the doors of the merchants; while
upwards of a hundred bridges, many of which were extremely beautiful,
spanned these canals, and communicated a picturesque and lively air to
the whole city. The sides of the river were lined with freestone, which
descended in steps from the streets to the water, and enabled persons
to land or embark wherever they pleased. The bridges thrown over the
main stream were constructed with cedar, elegantly railed on both sides,
and ornamented from space to space with little globes of brass. The
population of the city was immense; and, like those of most seaport
towns, remarkably addicted to luxury and voluptuousness.

From Osaki they proceeded through a plain country, planted with rice, and
adorned with plantations of Tsadanil trees, to Miako, the ancient capital
of Japan. It being the first day of the month, which the Japanese keep as
a holyday, they met great multitudes of people walking out of the city,
as the Londoners do on Sunday, to enjoy the sweets of cessation from
labour,

    With pleasaunce of the breathing fields yfed,

to visit the temples, and give themselves up to all kinds of rural
diversions. Nothing could be more grotesque than the appearance of these
crowds. The women were richly dressed in various-coloured robes, with a
purple-coloured silk about their foreheads, and wearing large straw hats,
to defend their beauty from the sun. Here and there among the multitude
were small groups of beggars, some dressed in fantastic garbs, with
strange masks upon their faces, others walking upon high iron stilts,
while a third party walked along bearing large pots with green trees
upon their heads. The more merry among them sung, whistled, played upon
the flute, or beat little bells which they carried in their hands. In
the streets were numbers of open shops, jugglers, and players, who were
exercising their skill and ingenuity for the amusement of the crowd.
The temples, which were erected on the slope of the neighbouring green
hills, were illuminated with numerous lamps, and the priests, no less
merry or active than their neighbours, employed themselves in striking
with iron hammers upon some bells or gongs, which sent forth a thundering
sound over the country. Through this enlivening scene they pushed on to
their inn, where they were ushered into apartments, which, being like all
other apartments in the empire, destitute of chimneys, resembled those
Westphalian smoking-rooms in which they smoke their beef and hams.

Having visited the governor, and the lord chief justice of Miako, and
delivered the customary presents, the embassy proceeded towards Jeddo.
Short, however, as was their stay, Kæmpfer found leisure for observing
and describing the city, which was extensive, well-built, and immensely
populous. Being the chief mercantile and manufacturing town in the
empire, almost every house was a shop, and every man an artisan. Here,
he observes, they refined copper, coined money, printed books, wove the
richest stuffs, flowered with gold and silver, manufactured musical
instruments, the best-tempered sword-blades, pictures, jewels, toys, and
every species of dress and ornaments.

They departed from Miako in palanquins on the 2d of March, and travelling
through a picturesque country, dotted with groves, glittering with
temples and lakes, and admirably cultivated, arrived in three days at the
town of Mijah, where they saw a very curious edifice, called the “Temple
of the Three Scimitars,” where three miraculous swords, once wielded by
demigods, are honoured with a kind of divine worship. On the 13th of
March they arrived, by a fine road running along the edge of the sea,
at Jeddo, and entered the principal street, where they encountered as
they rode along numerous trains of princes and great lords, with ladies
magnificently dressed, and carried in chairs or palanquins. This city,
the largest and most populous in the empire, stands at the bottom of a
large bay or gulf, and is at least twenty miles in circumference. Though
fortified by numerous ditches and ramparts, Jeddo is not surrounded by
a wall. A noble river, which divides itself into numerous branches,
intersects it in various directions, and thus creates a number of
islands which are connected by magnificent bridges. From the principal
of these bridges, which is called Niponbas, or the Bridge of Japan,
the great roads leading to all parts of the empire radiate as lines
from a common centre, and thence likewise all roads and distances are
measured. Though houses are not kept ready built, as at Moscow, to be
removed at a moment’s notice in case of destruction by fire or any other
accident, they are generally so slight, consisting entirely of wood and
wainscotting, that they may be erected with extraordinary despatch.
Owing to the combustible materials of those edifices, the very roofs
consisting of mere wood-shavings, while all the floors are covered with
mats, Jeddo is exceedingly liable to fires, which sometimes lay waste
whole streets and quarters of the city. To check these conflagrations in
their beginnings every house has a small wooden cistern of water on the
house-top, with two mops for sprinkling the water; but these precautions
being frequently found inefficient, large companies of firemen constantly
patrol the streets, day and night, in order, by pulling down some of the
neighbouring houses, to put a stop to the fires. The imperial palace,
five Japanese miles in circumference, consists of several castles
united together by a wall, and surrounded by a deep ditch. The various
structures which compose this vast residence are built with freestone,
and from amid the wilderness of roofs a square white tower rises aloft,
and, consisting of many stories, each of which has its leaded roof,
ornamented at each corner with gilded dragons, communicates to the whole
scene an air of singular grandeur and beauty. Behind the palace, which
itself stands upon an acclivity, the ground continues to rise, and this
whole slope is adorned, according to the taste of the country, with
curious and magnificent gardens, which are terminated by a pleasant wood
on the top of a hill, planted with two different species of plane-trees,
whose starry leaves, variegated with green, yellow, and red, are
exceedingly beautiful.

When their arrival at Jeddo was notified to the imperial commissioners,
to whom was intrusted the regulation of foreign affairs, they were
commanded to be kept confined in their apartments, and strictly guarded.
This, in all probability, was to prevent their discovering the tremendous
accident which had lately occurred in the city, where forty streets,
consisting of four thousand houses, had been burned to the ground a few
days before their arrival. Several other fires, exceedingly destructive
and terrific, and an earthquake which shook the whole city to its
foundations, happened within a few days after their arrival. On the
29th of March they were honoured with an audience. Passing through the
numerous gates and avenues to the palace between lines of soldiers, armed
with scimitars, and clothed in black silk, they were conducted into an
apartment adjoining the hall of audience, where they were commanded to
await the emperor’s pleasure. As nothing could more forcibly paint the
insolent pride of this barbarian despot, or the degraded position which,
for the sake of gain, the Dutch were content to occupy in Japan, I
shall describe this humiliating ceremony in the words of the traveller
himself. “Having waited upwards of an hour,” says he, “and the emperor
having in the mean while seated himself in the hall of audience, Sino
Comi (the governor of Nangasaki) and the two commissioners came in and
conducted our resident into the emperor’s presence, leaving us behind. As
soon as he came thither, they cried out aloud ‘Hollanda Captain!’ which
was the signal for him to draw near, and make his obeisance. Accordingly
he crawled on his hands and knees to a place shown him, between the
presents ranged in due order on one side, and the place where the emperor
sat, on the other, and then kneeling, he bowed his forehead quite down to
the ground, and so crawled backwards, like a crab, without uttering one
single word. So mean and short a thing is the audience we have of this
mighty monarch.”

After a second audience, to which they were invited chiefly for the
purpose of allowing the ladies of the harem, who viewed them from behind
screens, an opportunity of seeing what kind of animals Dutchmen were, and
having despatched the public business, which was the sole object of the
embassy, they returned to Nangasaki. During this second visit to Jeddo,
in the following year, nothing very remarkable occurred, except that they
were invited to dine in the palace, and thus afforded an opportunity of
observing the etiquette of a Japanese feast. Each guest was placed at
a small separate table, and the repast commenced with hot white cakes
as tough as glue, and two hollow loaves of large dimension, composed of
flour and sugar, and sprinkled over with the seeds of the sesamum album.
Then followed a small quantity of pickled salmon; and the magnificent
entertainment was concluded with a few cups of tea, which Kæmpfer assures
us was little better than warm water! When they had devoured this
sumptuous feast, they were conducted towards the hall of audience, where,
after having been questioned respecting their names and age by several
Buddhist priests and others, Kæmpfer was commanded to sing a song, for
the amusement of the emperor and his ladies, who were all present, but
concealed behind screens. He of course obeyed, and sung some verses which
he had formerly written in praise of a lady for whom he says he had a
very particular esteem. As he extolled the beauty of this paragon to the
highest degree, preferring it before millions of money, the emperor,
who appears to have partly understood what he sung, inquired the exact
meaning of those words; upon which, like a true courtier, our traveller
replied that they signified nothing but his sincere wishes that Heaven
might bestow “millions of portions of health, fortune, and prosperity
upon the emperor, his family, and court.” The various members of the
embassy were then commanded, as they had been on the former audience,
to throw off their cloaks, to walk about the room, and to exhibit in
pantomime in what manner they paid compliments, took leave of their
parents, mistresses, or friends, quarrelled, scolded, and were reconciled
again. Another repast, somewhat more ample than the preceding, followed
this farce, and their audience was concluded.

Having now remained in Asia ten years, two of which were spent in Japan,
the desire of revisiting his native land was awakened in his mind, and
quitting Japan in the month of November, 1692, he sailed for Batavia.
Here, in February, 1693, he embarked for Europe. The voyage lasted a
whole year, during which they were constantly out at sea, with the
exception of a few weeks, which they spent upon the solitudes of an
African promontory, for so he denominates the Cape of Good Hope. He
arrived at Amsterdam in the October following; and now, after having,
as M. Eriès observes, pushed his researches almost beyond the limits of
the old world, began to think of taking his doctor’s degree, a measure
which most physicians are careful to expedite before they commence their
peregrinations. He was honoured with the desired title at Leyden, in
April, 1694, and custom requiring an inaugural discourse, he selected
for the purpose ten of the most singular of those dissertations which he
afterward published in his “Amœnitates.”

This affair, which is still, I believe, considered important in Germany,
being concluded, he returned to his own country, where his reputation and
agreeable manners, together with the honour of being appointed physician
to his sovereign, the Count de Lippe, overwhelmed him with so extreme a
practice that he could command no leisure for digesting and arranging the
literary materials, the only riches, as he observes, which he had amassed
during his travels. However, busy as he was, he found opportunities of
conciliating the favour of some fair Westphalian, who, he hoped, might
deliver him from a portion of his cares. In this natural expectation
he was disappointed. The lady, far from concurring with her lord in
smoothing the rugged path of human life, was a second Xantippe, and, as
one of Kæmpfer’s nephews relates, poured more fearful storms upon his
head than those which he had endured on the ocean. His marriage, in fact,
was altogether unfortunate; for his three children, who might, perhaps,
have made some amends for their mother’s harshness, died in the cradle.

It was upwards of eighteen years after his return that he published the
first fruits of his travels and researches—the “Amœnitates Exoticæ;”
which, however, immediately diffused his reputation over the whole of
Europe. But his health had already begun to decline, and before he could
prepare for the press any further specimens of his capacity and learning,
death stepped in, and snatched him away from the enjoyment of his fame
and friends, on the 2d of November, 1716, in the 66th year of his age.
He was interred in the cathedral church of St. Nicholas, at Lemgow; and
Berthold Haeck, minister of the town, pronounced a funeral sermon, or
panegyric, over his grave, which was afterward printed.

Upon the death of Kæmpfer being made known in England, Sir Hans Sloane,
whose ardour for the improvement of science is well known, commissioned
the German physician of George I., who happened to be at that time
proceeding to Hanover, to make inquiries respecting our traveller’s
manuscripts, and to purchase them, if they were to be disposed of. They
were accordingly purchased, together with all his drawings; and on their
being brought to England, Dr. Scheuchzer, a man of considerable ability,
was employed to translate the principal work, the “History of Japan,”
into English. From this version, which has since been proved to have
been executed with care and fidelity, it was translated into French by
Desmaigeneux, and retranslated into German in an imperfect and slovenly
manner. However, after the lapse of many years, the original MS was
faithfully copied, and the work, hitherto known to our traveller’s own
countrymen chiefly through foreign translations, published in Germany.
Many of Kæmpfer’s manuscripts still remain unpublished in the British
Museum.

Kæmpfer may very justly be ranked among the most distinguished of modern
travellers. To the most extensive learning he united an enterprising
character, singular rectitude of judgment, great warmth of fancy, and a
style of remarkable purity and elegance. His “Amœnitates” and “History of
Japan” may, in fact, be reckoned among the most valuable and interesting
works which have ever been written on the manners, customs, or natural
history of the East.




HENRY MAUNDRELL.


Of the birth, education, and early life of this traveller little or
nothing appears to be known with certainty. His friends, who were of
genteel rank, since he calls Sir Charles Hodges, judge of the High Court
of Admiralty, his uncle, seem to have resided in the neighbourhood of
Richmond. Having completed his studies, and taken the degree of master
of arts at Oxford, he was appointed chaplain to the English factory
at Aleppo, and departed from England in the year 1695. Part of this
journey was performed by land; but whether it passed off smoothly, or
was diversified by incidents and adventures, we are left to conjecture,
our traveller not having thought his movements of sufficient importance
to be known to posterity. It is simply recorded that he passed through
Germany, and made some short stay at Frankfort, where he conversed with
the celebrated Job Ludolphus, who, learning his design of residing in
Syria, and visiting the Holy Land, communicated to him several questions,
the clearing up of which upon the spot might, it was hoped, tend to
illustrate various passages in the Old and New Testaments.

Shortly after his arrival at Aleppo, he undertook, in company with a
considerable number of his flock, that journey to Jerusalem which, short
and unimportant as it was, has added his name to the list of celebrated
travellers; so pleasantly, ingenuously, and delightfully is it described.
The history of the short period of his life consumed in this excursion is
all that remains to us; and this is just sufficient to excite our regret
that we can know no more; for, from the moment of his introduction into
our company until he quits us to carry on his pious and noiseless labours
at Aleppo, diversified only by friendly dinners and rural promenades or
hunting, we view his character with unmingled satisfaction. He was a
learned, cheerful, able, conscientious man, who viewed with a pleasure
which he has not sought either to exaggerate or disguise the spots
rendered venerable by the footsteps or sufferings of Christ, and of the
prophets, martyrs, and apostles.

Maundrell and his companions departed from Aleppo on the 26th of
February, 1696, and crossing the plains of Kefteen, which are fruitful,
well cultivated, and of immense extent, arriving in two days at Shogr,
a large but dirty town on the banks of the Orontes, where there was a
splendid khan erected by the celebrated Grand Vizier Kuperli, on the next
day they entered the pashalic of Tripoli; travelling through a woody,
mountainous country, beneath the shade of overarching trees, amused by
the roar of torrents, or by the sight of valleys whose green turf was
sprinkled with myrtles, oleanders, tulips, anemonies, and various other
aromatic plants and flowers. In traversing a low valley they passed over
a stream rolling through a narrow rocky channel ninety feet deep, which
was called the Sheïkh’s Wife, an Arab princess having formerly perished
in this dismal chasm.

Crossing _Gebel Occaby_, or the “Mountain of Difficulty,” which,
according to our traveller, fully deserves its name, they arrived
towards evening at Belulca, a village famous for its wretchedness,
and for the extremely humble condition to which Christianity is there
reduced,—Christ being, to use his own expressive words, once more laid
in a manger in that place. The poorness of their entertainment urged
them to quit Belulca as quickly as possible, though the weather, which
during the preceding day had been extremely bad, was still far from being
settled; and they had not proceeded far before they began to regret this
miserable resting-place, the rains bursting out again with redoubled
violence, breaking up the roads, and swelling the mountain torrents to
overflowing. At length, however, they arrived opposite a small village,
to reach which they had only to cross a little rivulet, dry in summer,
but now increased by the rains to a considerable volume, and found upon
trial to be impassable. In this dilemma, they had merely the choice of
returning to the miserable, inhospitable den where they had passed the
preceding night, or of pitching their tent where they were, and awaiting
the falling of the stream. The latter appeared the preferable course,
though the weather seemed to menace a second deluge, the most terrible
thunder and lightning now mingling with and increasing the horrors of the
storm; while their servants and horses, whom their single tent was too
small to shelter, stood dripping, exposed to all the fury of the heavens.
At length a small sheïkh’s house, or burying-place, was discovered in the
distance, where they hoped to be allowed to take shelter along with the
saints’ bones; but the difficulty was how to gain admittance, it being
probable that the people of the village would regard the approach of so
many infidels to the tomb of their holy men as a profanation not to be
endured. To negotiate this matter, a Turk, whom they had brought along
with them for such occasions, was despatched towards the villagers, to
obtain permission peaceably, if possible; if not, to inform them that
they would enter the edifice by force. It is possible that the Ottoman
exceeded his instructions in his menaces; for the indignation of the
villagers was roused, and declaring that it was their creed to detest
and renounce Omar and Abubeer, while they honoured Ahmed and Ali, they
informed the janizary that they would die upon the infidels’ swords
rather than submit to have their faith defiled. The travellers on their
part assured them that the opinion they entertained of Omar and Abubeer
was in no respect better than their own; that they had no intention
whatever to defile their holy places; and that their only object at
present was to obtain somewhere or another a shelter from the inclemency
of the weather. This apparent participation in their sectarian feelings
somewhat mollified their disposition, and they at length consented to
unlock the doors of the tomb, and allow the infidels to deposite their
baggage in it; but with respect to themselves, it was decreed by the
remorseless villagers that they were to pass the night _sub Jove_. When
our travellers saw the door opened, however, they began secretly to laugh
at the beards of the honest zealots, being resolved, as soon as sleep
should have wrapped itself round these poor people like a cloak, as
Sancho words it, to steal quietly into the tomb, and dream for once upon
a holy grave. They did so; but either the anger of the sheïkh or their
wet garments caused them to pass but a melancholy night.

Next morning, the waters of the river, which rose and fell with equal
rapidity, having sunk to their ordinary level, they issued forth from
their sacred apartments, and proceeding westward for some time, they at
length ascended a lofty eminence, from whence, across a wide and fertile
plain, they discovered the city of Latichen, founded by Seleucus Nicator
on the margin of the sea. Leaving this city and the Mediterranean on the
right-hand, and a high ridge of mountains on the left, they proceeded
through the plain towards Gibili, the ancient Gabala, where they arrived
in the evening, and remained one day to recruit themselves. In the hills
near this city were found the extraordinary sect of the Nessariah, which
still subsists, and are supposed to be a remnant of the ancient pagan
population, worshippers of Venus-Mylitta and the sun.

Proceeding southward along the seacoast they crossed the Nahrel-Melek,
or King’s River, passed through Baneas, the ancient Balanea, and arrived
towards sunset at Tortosa, the Orthosia of antiquity, erected on the edge
of a fertile plain so close to the sea that the spray still dashes among
its crumbling monuments. Continuing their journey towards Tripoli, they
beheld on their right, at about three miles’ distance from the shore,
the little island of Ruad, the Arvad or Alphad of the Scriptures, and
the Andus of the Greeks and Romans, a place which, though not above two
or three furlongs in length, was once renowned for its distant naval
expeditions and immense commerce, in which it maintained for a time a
rivalry even with Tyre and Sidon themselves. Having travelled thus far
by forced marches, as it were, they determined to remain a whole week at
Tripoli, to repose their “wearied virtue,” and by eating good dinners
and making merry with their friends, prepare themselves for the enduring
of those “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,” which all flesh,
but especially travelling flesh, is heir to. But the more fortunate and
happy the hero of the narrative happens to be, the more unfortunate and
melancholy is his biographer, for happiness is extremely dull and insipid
to every one except the individual who tastes it. For this reason we
hurry as fast as possible over all the bright passages of a man’s life,
but dwell with delight on his sufferings, his perils, his hair-breadth
escapes, not, as some shallow reasoners would have it, because we rejoice
at the misfortunes of another, but because our sympathies can be awakened
by nothing but manifestations of intellectual energy and virtue, which
shine forth most gloriously, not on the calm waves of enjoyment, but amid
the storms and tempests of human affairs.

We therefore snatch our traveller from the rural parties and cool valleys
of Tripoli, in order to expose him to toil and the spears of the Arabs.
The week of pleasure being expired, the party set forward towards the
south, and proceeding for five hours along the coast, arrived at a high
rocky promontory, intersecting the road, and looking with a smooth,
towering, and almost perpendicular face upon the sea. This appears to
be the promontory called by Strabo, but wherefore is not known, τὸ του
Θεου Προσώπον, or the Face of God. Near this strangely-named spot they
encamped for the night under the shade of a cluster of olive-trees.
Surmounting this steep and difficult barrier in the morning, they pursued
their way along the shore until they arrived at Gabail, the ancient
Byblus, a place once famous for the birth and worship of Adonis. In this
place they made little or no stay, pushing hastily forward to the Nahr
Ibrahim, the river Adonis of antiquity, the shadows of Grecian fable
crowding thicker and thicker upon their minds as they advanced, and
bringing along with them sweet schoolboy recollections, sunny dreams,
which the colder phenomena of real life never wholly expel from ardent
and imaginative minds. Here they pitched their tent, on the banks of the
stream, and prepared to pass the night amid those fields where of old the
virgins of the country assembled to unite with the goddess of beauty, in
lamentations for Adonis,

    Whose annual wound in Lebanon allured
    The Syrian damsels to lament his fate
    In amorous ditties all a summer’s day,
    While smooth Adonis from his native rock
    Ran purple to the sea, supposed with blood
    Of Thammuz yearly wounded: the love-tale
    Infected Sion’s daughters with like heat,
    Whose wanton passions in the sacred porch
    Ezekiel saw, when by the vision led
    His eye surveyed the dark idolatries
    Of alienated Judah.

The night was rainy and tempestuous, and when they looked out in the
morning the _Nahr Ibrahim_ had assumed that sanguine hue, which,
according to Lucian, always distinguishes it at that season of the year
in which the festival of Adonis was celebrated. Nay, the stream not only
“ran purple to the sea,” but had actually, as they observed in travelling
along, communicated its bloody colour to the waves of the Mediterranean
to a considerable distance from the land, just as the Nile discolours
them at the time of the inundation along the whole coast of the Delta.

Their road now lay nearly at the foot of those steep and rugged mountains
which have for many ages been inhabited by the Maronites, several of
whose convents they discerned perched like eagles’ nests on the bare
summit of the crags. A road cut for a considerable distance through the
solid rock, and a track still more rude and wild, worn by the footsteps
of travellers in the side of the mountain, at length brought them to
the river Lycus, or Canis, the _Nahr-el-Kelb_, or “Dog’s River,” of the
Turks and Arabs. Proceeding along a low sandy shore, and crossing the
_Nahr-el-Salib_, they arrived at a small field near the sea, where St.
George, the patron of England, acting over again the fable of Apollo
and Python, fought with and killed that mighty dragon which still shows
its shining scales on the golden coin of Great Britain. A small chapel,
now converted into a mosque, was anciently erected on the spot in
commemoration of the exploit. In the evening they arrived at Beiroot,
where they remained the following day, examining the ruins and present
aspect of the city.

The principal curiosities of Beiroot were the palace and gardens of
Fakreddin, fourth prince of the Druzes, a people of Mount Lebanon, said
to be descended from the fragments of those Christian armies which, after
the final failure of the Crusades, were unable or unwilling to return
to their own countries, and took up their residence in the mountain
fastnesses of the Holy Land. Originally the gardens of Fakreddin must
have been a little paradise. Even when Maundrell was there, after
time and neglect had considerably impaired their beauty, they were
still worthy of admiration. Large and lofty orange-trees of the deepest
verdure, among which the ripe yellow fruit hung thickly suspended like
oblong spheres of gold, shaded the walks; while below small shining
rivulets of the purest water ran rippling along, through channels of hewn
stone, spreading coolness through the air, and distributing themselves
over the gardens by many imperceptible outlets.

On leaving Beiroot they proceeded through a spacious plain, and
traversing a large grove of pine-trees, planted by the Emīr Fakreddin,
arrived in two hours on the banks of the river Dammar, anciently Tamyras,
in which, about four years before, the younger Spon had been drowned in
proceeding northward from Jerusalem. Coming up to the edge of the stream,
they found a number of men, who, observing their approach, had stripped
themselves naked, in order to aid them in passing the stream; but having
previously learned that a bridge which once spanned this river had been
purposely broken down by these officious guides, in order to render their
services necessary, and that, moreover, they sometimes drowned travellers
to obtain their property, they disappointed the ruffians, and ascending
along the stream for some time, at length discovered a ford, and crossed
without their aid.

At the Awle, a small river about three miles north of Sidon, our
travellers were met by several French merchants from this city, who,
having been informed of their drawing near, had come out to welcome
them. From these friends they learned, however, that the French consul,
who, being also consul of Jerusalem, was compelled by the duties of his
office to visit the Holy City every Easter, had departed from Sidon the
day before; but that as he meant to make some stay at Acra, they might
hope to overtake him there. On this account they again set out early
next morning, and keeping close to the sea, passed by the site of the
ancient Sarepta, crossed the Nahr-el-Kasmin, and in another hour arrived
at Tyre, where, notwithstanding their anxiety to place themselves under
the protection of the French consul, who was travelling with an escort,
they were detained for a moment by the recollection of the ancient glory
of the place.

Having indulged their curiosity for an instant, they again hurried
forward, the phantom of the consul still flitting before them, like the
enchanted bird in the Arabian Nights, and reached Ras-el-Am, or the
“Promontory of the Fountains,” where those famous reservoirs called the
“Cisterns of Solomon” are situated. Our traveller, who had little respect
for traditions, conjectured that these works, however ancient they might
be, could not with propriety be ascribed to the Hebrew king, since the
aqueduct which they were intended to supply was built upon the narrow
isthmus uniting the island to the continent, constructed by Alexander
during the siege of the city; and we may be sure, he observes, that the
aqueduct cannot very well be older than the ground it stands upon.

At Acra they found the consul, who had politely delayed his departure to
the last moment in order to give them time to arrive; and next morning
continued their journey in his company. Crossing the river Belus, on
whose banks glass is said to have been first manufactured, and making
across the plain towards the foot of Carmel, they entered the narrow
valley through which the ancient Kishon, famous for the destruction of
Sisera’s host, rolls its waters towards the sea. After threading for many
hours the mazes of this narrow valley, they issued forth towards evening
upon the plains of Esdraelon sprinkled with Arab flocks and tents, and in
the distance beheld the famous mounts of Tabor and Hermon, and the sacred
site of Nazareth. Here they learned the full force of the Psalmist’s
poetical allusions to the “dews of Hermon,” for in the morning they found
their tents as completely drenched by it as if it had rained all night.

Paying the customary tribute to the Arabs as they passed, they proceeded
on their way, their eyes resting at every step on some celebrated spot:
Samaria, Sichem, mounts Ebal and Gerizim, places rendered venerable
by the wanderings of prophets and patriarchs, but hallowed in a more
especial manner by the footsteps of Christ. They now began to enter upon
a more rocky and mountainous country, and passing by the spot where Jacob
saw angels ascending and descending, “in the vision of God,” and Beer,
supposed to be the Michmas of the Scriptures, to which Jonathan fled
from the revenge of his brother Abimelech, arrived at the summit of a
hill, whence Rama, anciently Gibeah of Saul, the plain of Jericho, the
mountains of Gilead, and Jerusalem itself were visible in one magnificent
panorama.

Being in the Holy City, which no man, whether believer or unbeliever, can
visit without the most profound emotion, Maundrell enjoyed unrestrainedly
the romantic delight of living where Christ had lived and died, which to
a high-minded religious man must be one of the noblest pleasures which
travelling can afford. They resided, during their stay, at the Latin
convent, visiting the various places which are supposed to possess any
interest for pilgrims; such as the church of the Sepulchre, on Mount
Calvary, the grotto of Jeremiah, the sepulchres of the kings, and the
other famous places within the precincts or in the vicinity of the city.

Four days after their arrival they set out in company with about two
thousand pilgrims of both sexes and of all nations, conducted by the
mosselim, or governor of the city, to visit the river Jordan. Going
out of the city by the gate of St. Stephen, they crossed the valley of
Jehoshaphat, with part of Mount Olivet, passed through Bethany, and
arrived at that mountain wilderness to which Christ was taken forth to
be tempted by the Devil. Here some terrible convulsion of nature appears
to have shattered and rent in pieces the foundations of the everlasting
hills, swallowing up the summits, and thrusting up in their stead the
bases and substructions, as it were, of the mighty masses. In the depths
of a valley which traversed this “land of desolation, waste and wild,”
were discovered the ruins of numerous cottages and hermits’ cells,
many ascetics having formerly retired to this dreary region to waste
away their lives in solitary penance. From the top of this mountain,
however, the travellers enjoyed a prospect of extraordinary diversity,
comprehending the mountains of Arabia, the Dead Sea, and the Plain of
Jericho, into the last of which they descended in about five hours from
the time of their leaving Jerusalem.

In this plain they saw the fountain of Elisha, shaded by a
broad-spreading tree. Jericho itself had dwindled into a small wretched
village, inhabited by Arabs; and the plain beyond it, extending to the
Jordan, appeared to be blasted by the breath of sterility, producing
nothing but a species of samphire, and similar stunted marine plants.
Here and there, where thin sheets of water, now evaporated by the rays of
the sun, had formerly spread themselves over the marshy soil, a saline
efflorescence, white and glittering like a crust of snow, met the eye;
and the whole valley of the Jordan, all the way to the Dead Sea, appeared
to be impregnated with that mineral. They found this celebrated river,
which in old times overflowed its banks, to be a small stream not above
twenty yards in breadth, which, to borrow the words of the traveller,
seemed to have forgotten its former greatness, there being no sign or
probability of its rising, though the time, the 30th of March, was the
proper season of the inundation. On the contrary, its waters ran at
least two yards below the brink of its channel.

Proceeding onwards towards the Dead Sea, they passed over an undulating
plain, in some places rising into hillocks, resembling those places in
England where there have formerly been limekilns, and which may possibly
have been the scene of the overthrow of the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah
recorded in Genesis. On approaching the Dead Sea, they observed that on
the east and west it was hemmed in by mountains of vast height, between
whose barren ridges it stretched away, like a prodigious canal, farther
than the eye could reach towards the south. On the north its limpid and
transparent waters rattled along a bed of black pebbles, which being held
over the flame of a candle quickly kindle, and, without being consumed,
emit a black smoke of intolerable stench. Immense quantities of similar
stones are said to be found in the sulphureous hills bordering upon
the lake. None of the bitumen which the waves of this sea occasionally
disgorge was then to be found, although it was reported that both on the
eastern and western shores it might be gathered in great abundance at the
foot of the mountains. The structures of fable with which tradition and
“superstitious idle-headed Eld” had surrounded this famous sea vanished,
like the false waters of the desert, upon examination. No malignant
vapours ascended from the surface of the waves, carrying death to the
birds which might attempt to fly over it. On the contrary, several birds
amused themselves in hovering about and over the sea, and the shells of
fish were found among the pebbles on the shore. Those apples of Sodom
which, “atra et inania velut in cinerem vanescunt,” according to the
expression of Tacitus, for a thousand years have furnished poets with
comparisons and similes, were found, like many other beautiful things,
to flourish only in song; there being in the neighbourhood of the lake
no trees upon which they could grow. The surprising force of the water,
which according to the great historian of Rome sustained the weight even
of those who had not learned to buoy themselves up by art, was in a great
measure found to exist, and subsequent experiments appear to support the
opinion.

Returning thence to Jerusalem, and visiting Bethlehem and the other holy
places in its vicinity, they at length departed on the 15th of April
for Nazareth, which they found to be an inconsiderable village on the
summit of a hill. Their road then lay through their former track until
they struck off to the right through a defile of Mount Lebanon, entered
the valley of Bocat, and emerged through a gorge of Anti-Libanus into
the plain of Damascus, which, watered by “Abana and Pharphar, lucid
streams,” unfolded itself before the eye in all that voluptuous beauty
glittering in a transparent atmosphere which intoxicated the soul of
the Arabian prophet, and caused him to pronounce it too generative of
delight. The somewhat colder imagination of Maundrell was strongly moved
by the view of this incomparable landscape. The City of the Sun (for such
is the signification of its oriental name) lifted up its gilded domes,
slender minarets, and tapering kiosks amid a forest of deep verdure;
while gardens luxuriant in beauty, and wafting gales of the richest
fragrance through the air, covered the plain for thirty miles around the
city. The interior of the city was greatly inferior to its environs, and
disappointed the traveller.

From Damascus, where they saw the Syrian caravan, commanded by the Pasha
of Tripoli, and consisting of an army of pilgrims mounted on camels and
quaintly-caparisoned horses, depart for Mecca, they proceeded to Baalbec,
where they arrived on the 5th of May. The magnificent ruins of this city
were then far less dilapidated than they are at present, and called forth
a corresponding degree of admiration from the travellers. The site
of Baalbec, on the cool side of a valley, between two lofty ridges of
mountains, is highly salubrious and beautiful; and the creations of art
which formerly adorned it were no way inferior (and this is the highest
praise the works of man can receive!) to the beauties which nature
eternally reproduces in those delicious regions. Time and the Ottomans,
however, have shown that they are less durable.

When a place affords nothing for the contemplation of curiosity but
the wrecks of former ages, it usually detains the footsteps of the
traveller but a short time; and accordingly Maundrell and his companions
quitted Baalbec early next morning, and, penetrating through the snowy
defiles of Mount Lebanon into the maritime plains of Syria, arrived in
two days at Tripoli. From hence, on the 9th of May, Maundrell departed
with a guide to visit the famous cedars so frequently alluded to in the
Scriptures, and which, from the prodigious longevity of the tree, may
be those which the poets and prophets of Israel viewed with so much
admiration. The extreme brevity of the original narrative permits us to
describe this excursion in the traveller’s own words:—“Having gone for
three hours across the plain of Tripoli, I arrived,” says he, “at the
foot of Libanus; and from thence continually ascending, not without great
fatigue, came in four hours and a half to a small village called Eden,
and in two hours and a half more to the cedars.

“These noble trees grow among the snow, near the highest part of Lebanon,
and are remarkable as well for their own age and largeness as for those
frequent allusions made to them in the Word of God. Here are some of them
very old and of a prodigious bulk, and others younger of a smaller size.
Of the former I could reckon up only sixteen, and the latter are very
numerous. I measured one of the largest, and found it twelve yards six
inches in girth, and yet sound, and thirty-seven yards in the spread of
its boughs. At about five or six yards from the ground it was divided
into five limbs, each of which was equal to a great tree.”

Descending the mountain, and rejoining his friends at Tripoli, they
departed thence together; and returning by the same road which they
had pursued in their journey to Jerusalem, they arrived in a few days
at Aleppo without accident or peril. Such is the history of that brief
excursion, which, being ably and honestly described, has justly ranked
Maundrell among celebrated travellers. The date of his death I have been
unable to discover. This journey has been translated into several modern
languages, and is held in no less estimation abroad than at home.


END OF VOL. I.