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.

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“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.

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“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.