Chapter VII: Part 7

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.