Chapter X: Part 10

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.