Chapter V: Part 5

Having visited all the most remarkable places in this part of Palestine, he returned to Jaffa, where he embarked on the 22d of May on board of a large boat bound for Acra. At this period the sea along the whole coast of Syria was infested by Maltese pirates. By an agreement entered into with the monks of Palestine, these corsairs engaged not to meddle with any of these boats within eighty leagues of the Holy Land; but, in spite of this arrangement, they frequently boarded them, seizing and carrying off into slavery every Mohammedan passenger, and pillaging both Turks and Christians with remarkable impartiality. The vessel in which Pococke was embarked escaped the clutches of these vagabonds, and arrived safe at Acra. From this part he made an excursion into the northern parts of Palestine and Galilee; visited Mount Carmel, Cæsarea, Nazareth, Mount Tabor, Cana, and the Lake of Tiberias; extended his researches to Mount Hermon and the sources of the Jordan; and then, returning to the coast, departed for Tyre, Sidon, and Mount Lebanon.

The mountains in this part of Syria are inhabited by the Maronites and Druzes, people whose manners and customs I shall have occasion to describe in the life of Volney. Pococke’s stay among them was short, and his occasions of observing them few, but the result of his limited experience was favourable; for he pronounces the Maronites more simple and less addicted to intrigue than the other Christians of the East, and for courage and probity prefers the Druzes, who are neither Christians nor Mohammedans, before every other oriental people. Nevertheless it is conjectured that the latter are the descendants of the Christian armies who were engaged in the crusades. They themselves profess, according to our traveller, to be descended from the English; at other times they claim a French origin; and the probability is that they know not who were their ancestors. Like the Yezeedees of Mesopotamia, they are sometimes compelled to dissemble their incredulity and frequent the mosques; but Pococke learned that in their secret books they blasphemed both Christ and Mohammed. This hypocrisy is not altogether consistent with their character either for courage or probity. They had among them a sort of monks called _akel_, who abstained from wine, and refused to sit at their prince’s table lest they should participate in the guilt of his extortions. These men Pococke regards rather as philosophers, however, than as monks. Their religion, if they had any, consisted in the worship of nature; and from their veneration for the calf, the lingam, and the yoni, the figures of which they were said to preserve in a small silver box, I should conjecture that both they and their religion are an offshoot from the great Brahminical trunk; and the same thing may with equal probability be said of the Yezeedees, the Ismaelaah, and the Nessariah, whose doctrines had found their way into the west, and caused the founding of altars to the yoni in Cyprus long before the birth of history.

Our traveller continued his researches among the rude tribes who inhabit the fastnesses of Lebanon, visited the cedars, Baalbec (where he found the body of a murdered man in the temple), Damascus, Horus, and Aleppo; and having made an excursion across the Euphrates to Orfah, returned by way of Antioch and Scanderoon to Tripoli, where he embarked on the 24th of October for Cyprus.

On approaching Limesol from the sea, its environs, consisting entirely of vineyards, and gardens planted with mulberry-trees, and interspersed with villas, present a charming landscape to the eye. The wines for which the island is celebrated are all made here. In Cyprus what principally interests the traveller are the footsteps of antiquity; he seeks for little else. The temples and worship of Venus, hallowed, if not spiritualized, by poetry, have diffused a glow over the soil which neither time nor barbarism, potent as is their influence, has been able to dissipate. The heart thrills and the pulse quickens at the very names of Paphos and Amathus. A thousand pens have celebrated their beauty: Love has waved his wings over them. Pococke seems, however, notwithstanding his passion for beholding celebrated places, to have visited these scenes with as much coolness as he would a turnip-field.

Non equidem invideo: miror magis.

He remarks, indeed, that it was from this city that Venus acquired the epithet of _Amathusia_; that a temple was here erected in honour of her and Adonis; and that the ruins of the city walls are fifteen feet thick. But is this all? Wherefore are we not presented with a picture of the landscape around the spot? Is it soft, is it beautiful, like the goddess who was worshipped there?

Tacitus informs us that the temple which stood here was erected by Amathus, son of King Aërias; and Servius and Macrobius observe that the statue of the goddess was double-natured and bearded, though clothed in female garments. The sexes changed dresses on entering the fane; and during the mysteries instituted by Cinyras, salt, money, and the symbol of the productive power of nature were presented to the initiated.

Proceeding eastward along the shore from Amathus, the traveller visited Larnica, the ruins of Cittium, the birthplace of the philosopher Zeno; Famagosta, the ruins of Salamis; and turning the eastern point of the island, returned by Nicosia, Soli, and Arsinoe to Paphos. With the traditions of this place one of the most remarkable fables of antiquity is connected; for it was here that Venus, born among the foam of the sea, was wafted on shore by the zephyrs,—“deamque ipsam, conceptam mari, huc appulsam,” says Tacitus. However, modern mythologists have maintained that it was not the Grecian but the Assyrian goddess, that is, the celestial Venus, who was worshipped at Paphos. No effigies of the goddess adorned this fane; but a cone or white pyramid, that mystic emblem to which I have had frequent occasion to allude, was the object of adoration. This emblematical manner of representing the gods was common in remote antiquity, and Venus herself was thus symbolically depicted on the coin of the Chalcidians.

Pococke observes that the ladies of Cyprus still keep up in every sense the worship of their ancient goddess, and even go at Whitsuntide in procession along the seashore in commemoration of the time of her birth. They wear no veils, and their dress, in his opinion, is exactly such as priestesses of the Idalian goddess should be distinguished by.

Having satisfied his curiosity respecting Cyprus, he returned to Egypt for the purpose of visiting Mount Sinai, and tracing the track of the Israelites through the wilderness; and when he had accomplished this design, which he did with little difficulty or danger, he proceeded to Alexandria, and embarked for Crete. Every person is aware of the prodigious celebrity which this island enjoyed among the ancients. It was the great stepping-stone which facilitated the passage of civilization from Asia into Greece. Here Jupiter was cradled, and Minos, the prototype of Lycurgus, legislated for a barbarous people whom he endeavoured by extraordinary, and sometimes by terrible and criminal regulations, to accustom and be fit to bear the yoke of government.

Pococke disembarked at Sphakia; and in crossing the island to Canea, the ancient Cydonia, traversed an extraordinary pass called _Ebros Farange_, where the road is flanked on both sides by lofty rocks which spring up perpendicularly, and are crowned at their summit by a profusion of shrubs and trees, such as the cypress, the fig-tree, and the evergreen oak. This pass is nearly six miles in length, and so difficult of ascent that towards the inland extremity travellers are compelled to dismount from their beasts and climb the acclivity on foot. A chain of mountains which runs almost parallel with the shores occupies the centre of this part of the island. They were known to the ancients under the name of the “White Mountains.” On the summit of the northern branch there is a small circular valley, in which the winter rains form a number of diminutive lakes, which add exceedingly to the charms of the scene, and where, according to the inhabitants, there grows a species of auriferous plant that communicates a golden colour to the teeth of the sheep which feed upon it. Among the smaller chains, which branch off from the main ridge of mountains towards the north, there are several valleys of remarkable beauty.

After having remained a short time at Canea, Pococke set out to make the tour of the island. His researches, though conducted with haste, throw much light on the ancient geography of the land of Minos; but of all the places which he visited none possess so powerful an interest as Mount Ida, where, as he observes, it is exceedingly probable that Jupiter passed his early youth in hunting and martial exercises. In the centre, or somewhat to the south of a vast cluster of mountains, rises the extremely lofty peak of Ida, composed of successive strata of gray marble, and rendered peculiarly difficult of ascent by detached blocks of stone scattered over its sides. Though considerably less elevated than Mount Lebanon or the Alps, the snow lies all the year round unmelted in several cavities near the summit, upon the very apex of which a church has been erected. Here, in clear weather, the traveller enjoys one of the most magnificent panoramic views in the world. Nearly the whole island lies within the range of the eye; and looking across the sea towards the north, he discovers in the distant horizon several islands of the Archipelago rising beautifully out of the waves.

From Candia he proceeded to Scio, Ipsara, Metelin, Tenedos, Lemnos, Samos, and Patmos, and then passed over to the continent to Smyrna. Here those traces of antiquity which formed the principal objects of his inquiries surrounded him on all sides. Not an excursion could be made without encountering the ruins or the site of some city renowned in poetry or history. Every river, every stream had some glorious association attached to it, from the Meles, on which Homer is sometimes supposed to have been born, to the Cayster and Mæander, celebrated in his poems. Pococke, it should be remarked, with all his admiration for antiquity, had not suffered much of the spirit of Greek poetry to penetrate into his soul; though he might as a man of the world avoid alluding to trite and hackneyed fables, this will not in all cases account for his omitting all mention of remarkable mythi. When encamped, for example, at night round a large fire on the summit of Mount Latmus in Caria, fearing an irruption of jackals and wild boars, he seems to have thrown himself to sleep upon his huge block of granite without once recalling to mind that it was on that wild spot Endymion was visited nightly by the moon. He observes, however, that the shepherds who have succeeded Endymion on this mountain have begun to cultivate a portion of its summit, and to enclose their fields with large trunks of trees disposed as pallisades.

Following up the course of the Mæander he entered the Greater Phrygia, proceeded thence to Galatia, and, turning to the north, took the road through the ancient Paphlagonia and Bithynia towards Constantinople. Here he entered into numerous inquiries respecting the religion and manners of the Turks; and then, descending the Dardanelles, embarked at Lemnos for Mount Athos in Macedonia. This mountain, it is well known, has for ages served as a retreat to numerous monks and hermits, who retire thither from the world to conceal their chagrin at being shut out by more fortunate or more persevering individuals from the participation of its more refined pleasures. There were at this period about forty hermitages situated in a semicircular sweep of the mountain. Some of the gloomy tenants of these cells were poor persons, who subsisted by their own labour, or on the bread and cheese bestowed upon them by the convents in the neighbourhood; and their amusement consisted in carving images or making wooden spoons. Pococke found them employed in drying figs, walnuts, and grapes, and learned that they made a little wine and brandy for their own use, which, I hope, occasionally enabled them to forget their cares. To complete their misery, no women were ever permitted to enter their territories.

Leaving this haunt of hypochondriacal drones, he proceeded along the shores of the Gulf of Contessa, and took the road to Salonica. The road along the northern shores of the Thermaic Gulf was beset with too many dangers to be attempted, and he therefore embarked for Caritza in Thessaly, and, arriving next day, took up his quarters for the night at the foot of Mount Ossa. Next morning he proceeded to the banks of the Peneus, which constitute the Vale of Tempé, celebrated by ancient poets as the most beautiful spot in Greece; but either the valley had lost its charms, or our traveller all taste for the picturesque, for he passes it over with still greater coolness than the poetical scenes of Cyprus. However, his mind was at this time so full of the battle of Pharsalia, Cæsar, and Pompey, that it would have been wonderful indeed if he had paused a moment to admire the pastoral scenes of Tempé. Having then reached the blood-stained spot where the greater tyrant triumphed over the lesser, and paved the way for the glorious Ides of March, our traveller examined with attention the various positions said to have been occupied by the contending armies. From thence he descended towards the Maliac Bay through Phthiotis, the native country of Achilles, which was situated in the Thessalian Thebes, the inhabitants of which, according to Strabo, obtained the name of ants on account of their industrious habits.

On his arrival at Zeitoun, which appears to occupy the site of the ancient Lamia, he took lodgings in a caravansary, where, in order to enjoy a cooler air, and escape the vermin which usually abound in such places, he spread out his carpet in an open gallery, and fell asleep. He had not been long in the enjoyment of repose, however, before he was awakened by a fearful noise; when, starting up, he saw by the light of the moon that a large portion of the building had been overthrown, and beheld the terrified horses bursting out of the stables and flying away with the utmost rapidity. Amazed and confounded, he was at first unable to comprehend what had happened; but his servant informed him it was an earthquake, which doubly increased his consternation. They now began to think of effecting their escape, but the building had been so shattered, and such immense heaps of ruins choked up the passages, that although they were apprehensive a second shock might follow and bury them beneath the tottering walls, they were some time in making their way into the street. Here they found that a poor Turk, who had thrown himself down before the door to sleep, had been buried under the ruins; but by prompt assistance he was dug out uninjured. Though there was a beautiful moonlight, so thick a cloud of dust arose from the houses which had fallen down, or were still falling all around, that it was impossible to discern any object at the distance of ten paces; and from amid this dense canopy, which hung suspended over the whole city, shrieks, groans, and sobs, wild lamentations for the dead, the moans of the crushed and wounded, yells of agony, and exclamations of terror were heard on all sides. Humanity, however, in the midst of this awful scene was busy at the work of salvation. Men, goaded on by the sting of affection, rushed desperately in between the threatening ruins in search of the objects of their love,—their wives, their parents, their children,—and returned, some joyously with their living friends in their arms, others with livid and ghastly looks bearing the corpses of those in whom all their earthly happiness had centred. The earth still continued agitated, rocking and heaving like the sea. Pococke caused his baggage to be transported to a spot which was at a distance from all buildings, where in the course of two hours he counted nearly twenty shocks, some of which were exceedingly terrible. The whole scene was tremendous. A multitude of human beings standing in darkness, fearful that the earth would open beneath their feet and ingulf them; not daring to fly, lest they should tumble into chasms already formed around them; incapable of aiding each other; a prey to every terrible idea, to every horrible foreboding. But at length the earth became still, and while the inhabitants were preparing to bury their dead, our traveller obtained horses and fled away from the city.

Crossing the ancient Sperchius, the stream to which Achilles had vowed his golden hair, and proceeding along the shore of the Maliac Gulf, he soon discovered in the distance the famous pass of Thermopylæ,—a spot which men will tread with a holy pride and triumph so long as a sympathy for heroic valour and patriotism shall remain upon earth. Such are the places to which men should go in pilgrimage,—places sanctified by the dust of the glorious and the great, whose names are rendered eternal by Providence, that even in the basest and most degenerate times mankind might never be reduced to a disbelief of virtue.

From Thermopylæ Pococke proceeded through the country of the Opuntian Locrians to the Euripus, into which Aristotle is absurdly reported by vulgar tradition to have thrown himself, from a despair of discovering the cause of its manifold tides. The ancients relate that the tide here ebbs and flows seven times in the day; but our traveller learned that the motions of the Euripus are irregular, sometimes ebbing and flowing as often as fourteen times in the day, and at others not more than twice. He next directed his course to the shores of the Copaic Lake, the eels of which Aristophanes seems to have so passionately longed for during the Peloponnesian war, visited Thebes, and then crossed Mount Pentelicus into Attica. The ruins of Athens were then far less imperfect than they are at present, and he examined them with the eye of a learned antiquary; but extensive as was his learning, he does not seem to have possessed that sort of reading which would have enabled him thoroughly to enjoy a tour through Greece. It is for those who have entered deeply into the private history, literature, and philosophy of the Greeks that Attica has real charms. He should be able to determine or imagine the exact spot where Socrates sat under the plane-tree with Phædrus in order to discuss the merits of Lysias’s style; he should be interested in discovering where the house of Callias stood, to which the impatient Hippocrates would have led Socrates before day, that he might lose no time in being introduced to Protagoras; he should walk up and down the banks of the Ilyssus, that he might be sure of having visited the spot where Sophocles nestled all night among the reeds to enjoy the song of the nightingale: this is the sort of traveller who should visit Greece. Otherwise, with Strabo, Pausanias, and Vitruvius in hand, he may determine the sites of cities and measure the height of columns to a hair; our feelings go not along with him, and his researches become tiresome in proportion as they are circumstantial and exact.

From Athens Pococke proceeded westward, crossed the ancient territories of Megara, visited Corinth, and continuing his journey along the southern shores of the Gulf of Lepanto, arrived at Patras, where he embarked for Sicily. He then crossed over into Italy, and hurried on through Germany, Switzerland, and France, to England, and arrived in London on the 30th of August, 1741, exactly eight years from the day of his first departure for the Continent.

Being now happily arrived in port, with a prodigious quantity of materials, Pococke, anxious to enjoy the reputation to which he aspired, immediately commenced the compilation of his travels, the first volume of which appeared in 1743, under the title of “A Description of the East,” &c. Two years afterward the second volume, divided into two parts, was published; and shortly afterward he added to his travels a large collection of Greek and Latin inscriptions, which are said by M. St. Martin to be so exceedingly incorrect as to be almost unintelligible. As Pococke can very well dispense with the credit arising from “this kind of researches,” I have not thought it necessary to examine whether the reproach of the Frenchman be well founded or not; but I cannot help congratulating that writer upon the felicitous manner in which he commences his account of our traveller, “the obscure and insignificant particulars of whose life,” he tells us, “are scarcely worth relating;” which is certainly a peculiarly ingenious application of those rules of rhetoric that teach us how to vivify and adorn a barren subject. The readers of the “Biographie Universelle” may perhaps suspect, however, that M. St. Martin was deterred from seeking for the “obscure and insignificant particulars” of Pococke’s life, by the vast bulk of his volumes, through which they lie scattered at wide intervals; but few who have perused those volumes, replete with interest and information, will allow that their author deserved no more than one little page in an unwieldy collection, where so many obscure scribblers, whose very names are forgotten by the public, are commemorated at such disproportionate length.

Pococke, whose reputation was quickly diffused throughout Europe, having taken orders, was promoted, in 1756, to the archdeaconry of Ossory, in Ireland; and in 1765 was made bishop of Elphin. This honour he was not destined long to enjoy, however, for in the month of September, of the same year, he died of apoplexy, in the 61st year of his age. Besides his travels, he was the author of several memoirs in the Philosophical Transactions, and in the Archæologia; and there still remain a number of his smaller pieces in manuscript at the British Museum. No popular or well-conceived edition of his works has hitherto been published, though few travellers are deserving of more credit, or were more competent to describe the countries through which they journeyed.

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JOHN BELL.

Born 1690.—Died about 1780.

BELL seems to have been born about the year 1690, at Antermony, in Scotland. He was possessed, even from his earliest years, by a strong passion for travel; but his passion, together with a large portion of shrewdness and sagacity, constituting the better part of his inheritance, he judiciously applied himself to the study of medicine and surgery, a knowledge of which, in all semi-barbarous countries, is frequently of more avail to the traveller even than wealth. It does not appear whether Bell was directed in the choice of his scene by preference or by chance. However, as all Europe was at that period filled with admiration of the projects of Peter the First, whose reputation for munificence drew crowds of adventurers by a species of magnetic attraction towards the north, it is probable that a desire of personal aggrandizement united with a thirst of knowledge in urging our traveller in the direction of Petersburg. But be this as it may, having obtained from several respectable persons recommendatory letters to Dr. Areskine, chief physician and privy counsellor to the czar Peter the First, he embarked at London in July, 1714, for St. Petersburg. On his arrival he was received in a very friendly manner by Dr. Areskine, to whom he communicated his intentions of availing himself of the first opportunity which should offer of visiting some portions of Asia. The desired occasion soon presented itself. The czar, preparing at this period to send an embassy into Persia, appointed Aremy Petrovich Valensky, a captain of the guards, to conduct the mission; and this gentleman applying to Dr. Areskine to recommend him a medical attendant, Bell was immediately brought forward by his countryman, and received, on his favourable testimony, into the ambassador’s suite. Through the same interest, he was likewise at once formally introduced into the service of the czar.

Bell set out from Petersburg on the 15th of July, 1715, accompanied by a part of the ambassador’s suite, and for some time directing his course along the western bank of the Neva, encamped in the evening on a small stream which falls into that river, and passed the night in a wagon. Next day they embarked on the Volchovu, the banks of which were covered with villages and fruitful cornfields, interspersed with woods, and continued their journey by water until they approached Novogorod, where they quitted their “moving road,” as Pascal terms a river, and proceeded on horseback. At Iver, Bell beheld the mighty stream of the Volga, the navigation of which from this town to the Caspian Sea is interrupted by no cataract, and whose waters abound with an extraordinary variety of the finest fish in the world.

From this place they proceeded towards the ancient capital of the empire, through a plain but agreeable country, covered with rich harvests, which infallibly produce a pleasing effect upon the mind, and dotted with small tufted groves, the verdure of which contrasted admirably with the yellow grain waving at their feet. On reaching the village from which the first view of Moscow was obtained, Bell observes, that “at this distance few cities in the world make a finer appearance, for it stands on a rising ground, and contains many stately churches and monasteries, whose steeples and cupolas are generally covered either with copper gilt or tin plates, which shine like gold and silver in the sun.”

The Kremlin, to which Bishop Heber was fond of comparing some of the old Mohammedan edifices of Hindostan, appears to have excited no very particular admiration in Bell, who merely observes that it was compounded of a number of buildings added to one another at different times, and that some of the apartments were remarkably spacious. Here they embarked on the Moskwa, and dropping slowly down the stream, entered the Volga a little below Nishna. The river at this place is of very great breadth, and, the wind blowing from the north, they were driven along with prodigious velocity. Signs of the approach of winter now began to appear, for it was the latter end of October; the Volga was suddenly filled with floating ice, which, united with its powerful current, and the force of the wind, rendered their position exceedingly dangerous. They, however, continued their voyage, and arrived on the 3d of November at Zabackzar, a considerable town on the right bank of the river, a little above Kazan.

In this part of Russia, according to Bell, the best and largest falcons in the world are caught, which being highly valued for their strength and beauty, particularly by the Turks and Persians, are sold to those nations at extravagant prices. They are not, as might have been expected, taken from the nest; but after they are full grown, when their natural instincts have been developed by exercise, and their physical powers have acquired, by struggling with storms and tempests, their utmost maturity and vigour. They are then taught to fly at swans, geese, herons, hares, and even antelopes; and our traveller saw one of them take a wild duck out of the water when nothing but her bill, which she had put up for air, could be perceived. Many of these falcons are as white as doves. Bell afterward saw in Kûdistan the beautiful species of hawk called _cherkh_, which the Persians and Arabs train for antelope hunting. This is done by stuffing the skin of one of these animals, and placing the food of the hawk between its horns, which afterward, when the bird comes to be employed in the chase, induces it to pounce upon the head of the antelope, and either strike it to the ground, or retard its movements until the greyhounds come up. Sir John Malcolm, who witnessed this singular sport at Abusheher, observes that “the huntsmen proceed to a large plain, or rather desert, near the seaside; they have hawks and greyhounds, the former carried in the usual manner on the hand of the huntsman, the latter led in a leash by a horseman, generally the same who carries the hawk. When the antelope is seen they endeavour to get as near as possible; but the animal, the moment it observes them, goes off at a rate that seems swifter than the wind; the horses are instantly at full speed, having slipped the dogs. If it is a single deer they at the same time fly the hawks; but if a herd, they wait till the dogs have fixed upon a particular antelope. The hawks, skimming along near the ground, soon reach the deer, at whose head they pounce in succession, and sometimes with a violence that knocks it over.”

The Persian style of hare hunting, which few travellers have noticed, is scarcely less interesting, and is thus described by Sir John Malcolm. “When at Shirez the elchee (ambassador) had received a present of a very fine shâh-bâz, or royal falcon. Before going out I had been amused at seeing Nuttee Beg, our head falconer, a man of great experience in his department, put upon this bird a pair of leathers, which he fitted to its thighs with as much care as if he had been the tailor of a fashionable horseman. I inquired the reason of so unusual a proceeding. ‘You will learn that,’ said the consequential master of the hawks, ‘when you see our sport;’ and I was convinced, at the period he predicted, of the old fellow’s knowledge of his business. The first hare seized by the falcon was very strong, and the ground rough. While the bird kept the claws of one foot fastened in the back of its prey, the other was dragged along the ground, till it had an opportunity to lay hold of a tuft of grass, by which it was enabled to stop the course of the hare, whose efforts to escape, I do think, would have torn the hawk asunder, if it had not been provided with the leathern defences which have been mentioned. The next time the falcon was flown gave us proof of that extraordinary courage which its whole appearance, and particularly its eye, denoted. It had stopped and quite disabled the second hare by the first pounce, when two greyhounds, which had been slipped by mistake, came up, and endeavoured to seize it. They were, however, repulsed by the falcon, whose boldness and celerity in attacking the dogs, and securing its prey, excited our admiration and astonishment.” Bell was informed of a circumstance, while travelling in Kûrdistan, which raises still higher our admiration of the falcon’s courage; for it is trained by the Tartars to fly at foxes and even wolves.

But to return to the Volga: On arriving on the 5th of November at Kazan, they found that the winter had set in, that the Volga was filled with floating ice, and that, therefore, since the nations inhabiting both banks of the river were hostile to Russia, or extremely barbarous in their manners, it would be necessary to defer the prosecution of their journey until the following spring. This afforded Bell ample leisure for the conducting of his researches into the manners, character, and religion of the neighbouring tribes. Here he found two Swedish generals, Hamilton and Rosen, taken prisoners at the battle of Pultowa, and exiled by the barbarous policy of the czar to these remote regions; but, excepting that they were exiles, they had no great reason to complain of their treatment, for they were allowed to share in whatever amusements and pleasures the place afforded, and were by no means subjected to a rigorous confinement.

It was not until the beginning of June that they were enabled to continue their voyage. They then began once more to descend the stream, which they did with great velocity; and making a short stay at Samara and Astrakhan, proceeded on their voyage, entered the Caspian, and on the 30th of August arrived at Niezabad, where, there being neither harbour nor creek, they hauled up their flat-bottomed vessels on the beach. Here an accident occurred to one of Bell’s companions, which strikingly illustrates the facility with which the imagination, when strongly excited, overthrows the other faculties of the mind. The ship in which the secretary of the embassy was embarked did not arrive until several hours after the others had been drawn on shore, by which time the wind had begun to blow with great violence, while the sea broke tremendously upon the beach. Not being able, under such circumstances, to reach the land, they at first cast anchor in the open road; but the gale increasing, even this position was considered dangerous, so that they quickly slipped their cable and put out to sea. The secretary and the other gentlemen on board, however, not greatly admiring their situation, and willing, from their extreme impatience to be once more on terra firma, to run even a considerable risk in endeavouring to effect their purpose, ordered the master of the ship, a Dutchman in the service of the czar, to run her ashore at all hazards, engaging themselves to be accountable for the consequences. But when the ship had approached within a certain distance of the land, the sea ran so high that no boat could be hoisted out. The secretary’s fear of the sea increasing with the obstacles to his landing, he at length prevailed upon a sailor, at the peril of his life, to carry him ashore on his back, which, in spite of all difficulties, the man actually performed; “but his clothes being drenched with salt water, and the road lying through deep sands, he was soon fatigued, and therefore retired nearer to the woods, in hopes of finding a more smooth and easy path. He discovered what he sought; but instead of leading him to the ships, it carried him away from the shore and the right course, into thick encumbered wood; and in these circumstances night overtook him, utterly ignorant of the dismal and dangerous wild into which he had wandered. Thus destitute of all assistance, he climbed a tree to save himself from the wild beasts with which these woods abound; and in this situation continued all the night, and till noon next day; for the people in his own ship never doubted of his having safely reached our tents; while we, on the contrary, had not the least suspicion of his having come on shore. At last, however, about noon, his servant came, inquiring for his master, who, he told us, left the ship the night before. This account filled us all with anxiety and apprehension; as we certainly concluded he would be torn to pieces by the wild beasts, or murdered by the savages who inhabit this coast. Immediate order was given for all our people to repair to the woods in search of him. He was at last found wandering from path to path, without knowing one direction from another. When he came to the tents he looked ghastly and wild, and related many strange stories of what he had heard in the night. All possible care was taken to alleviate his distress. During his sleep, which was very discomposed, he often started, groaned, and spoke; and even after he awaked, he persisted in affirming that there were numbers of people round the tree in the night, talking different languages. The imagination, no doubt, will naturally have a strong effect on any man in such uncommon circumstances; for, though the secretary was a man of penetration and sound judgment, in vain did we endeavour to undeceive him, by representing that it was nothing but the jackals which made the noise he had heard.” In fact, he never recovered his former sagacity and soundness of mind: and the accident may even be supposed to have hastened his death, which took place not long afterward.

From Niezabad they proceeded to Shamakia, where the inhabitants, to whom the Muscovites were novelties at that time, crowded the tops of their houses to behold them. The time of their stay was spent in the way usual with ambassadors; that is, in attempts of politeness, affecting state, and in disputes with the Khan of Shamakia. At length, however, all these were ended, and they departed. The suite of the ambassador was numerous; for in the East a man’s dignity is estimated by the camel-loads of people at his heels: one hundred and sixty camels, nearly two hundred horses and mules, which, if common sense were constituted judge of the matter, would be thought amply sufficient to bear the czar’s compliments and a letter to the shah.

On entering Kûrdistan, Bell, from whose mind the “rugged Russian bears,” jackals, and other nuisances, had not chased away all classical reminiscences, seems to have experienced some pleasure at the idea of traversing, though in a contrary direction, the same track which was pursued by Xenophon and the Ten Thousand in their retreat from Babylonia.[5] The Kûrds, the ancient Karduchi, were still, he says, reckoned a brave people; and, in fact, would be extremely disposed, if any thing were to be gained by it, to harass any body of men, whether small or great, who passed through their country. On the day before they arrived at Tabriz they crossed a ridge of mountains, from which, as he was informed by an Armenian, the snowy peaks of Ararat, or Agri Dag, might be seen in clear weather.

Footnote 5:

This must be understood _cum grano_. The Greeks never approached quite
so near the Caspian as Bell’s route. See the _Anabasis_.

From Tabriz they set out in the heart of winter, the country being covered with deep snow, and the roads, in consequence, almost impassable. The bright reflection of the sunbeams from the snow produced an extraordinary effect upon the Russians. Their faces swelled, and many of them were afflicted with ophthalmia. But the Persians themselves are liable to the latter inconvenience, and, in order to guard against it, wear a network fillet of black horsehair over the eyes; which Bell found, upon trial, to be an effectual preventive. This contrivance, I imagine, might be made use of with equal success in traversing the sands of Egypt or Arabia.

As they proceeded southward they quickly escaped from the regions of snow, and on reaching Sarva, a small town a little to the north of Koom, found the pomegranate-trees already in blossom on the 22d of February. The Persians, at least that part of them who make any claim to civilization, are a pleasant people to travel among. For if, in classic lands,

Not a mountain reared its head unsung,

no mountain, no, nor valley neither, rears or lowers its head without having some particular legend attached to it. Near Koom you are shown a hill from which no one who has been mad enough to reach the top ever descended; and are told a lamentable story of a young page sent up with a lighted torch in his hand by Shah Abbas, who, of course, never returned, but may yet perhaps come down with his torch unconsumed, upon the re-advent of the Twelfth Imam. At Kashan your imagination is excited by being placed in apartments, the floors of which are almost paved with scorpions, the sting of every one of which is more deadly than the sword of Rûstam, or the lance of Afrasiab. But these reptiles, like the spear of Achilles, undo, as it were, with one hand what they perform with the other; for when they have darted their poison into the frame, they yield, on being caught and fried, though not alive, I hope, an oil which the Persians reckon an infallible antidote to their venom. The only advantage which seems to be derived from this energetic little reptile is, that it enriches the Persian language with a new variety of that rhetorical figure of speech called commination, or cursing; for when any person is desirous of concentrating his wrath in a single imprecation, instead of having recourse to that convenient but vulgar demon who takes our enemies off our hands in Europe, he arms his wishes with the sting of a Kashan scorpion, and flings that at the head of his adversaries.

The embassy arrived at Ispahan on the 14th of March; and the shah’s court immediately put itself in training for a grand theatrical exhibition, in order to impress the barbarians with a favourable idea of the greatness of the Asylum of the Universe. While the stage decorations were preparing, our traveller, who entertained a reasonable respect for royal pomp and magnificence, employed himself in observing the city and its environs; and when the important day came, accompanied the ambassador into the presence of the shah. Every thing passed off in the usual style. Exhibitions of elephants caparisoned with gold and silver stuffs; lions led in massive chains of gold; twenty horses superbly caparisoned, having all their saddles and bridles ornamented with gold and silver, and set with sapphires, emeralds, and other precious stones, while the stakes by which they were fastened, and the mallets with which those stakes were driven into the earth, were of solid gold: such were the sights beheld within the precincts of the palace. On the outside, however, poverty, ignorance, and starvation exhibited their gaunt, phantom visages among the crowd, scaring the eyeballs of those who were not too much dazzled by the gorgeous apparatus of tyranny, to discover the real nature of the materials out of which they were forged.

When the ambassador was presented to the shah, he made a speech to him in Russian; the “Asylum of the Universe” replied in Persian; and since neither of them understood one word of what was said to him by the other, their speeches must have been exceedingly interesting. However, a third person, “doctus utriusque linguæ,” clothed the shah’s ideas in Russian for the benefit of the ambassador, while he presented the thoughts of the latter, or at least something like them, to the shah, in the mellifluous language of Persia. All this while music, which the traveller did not find inharmonious, was played in the audience-chamber, and the mufti was reading aloud various portions of the Koran. Whether this was intended to show how indifferent, respecting all secular concerns, the holy men of Persia were, or to throw an air of religion over the transaction, or, finally, to exorcise all such devils as might be supposed to accompany such a rabble of Franks, Bell did not inquire; which, I think, was a great oversight. An entertainment, which all parties thought more agreeable than the speeches, followed next. The shah himself, according to ancient usage, was served before his guests; but the ambassador had the honour of being next attended to. Every article of the feast was served up in large gold or china dishes, but, according to the custom of the East, fingers were substituted for knives and forks, and these, as among the ancient Greeks, were wiped with large thin cakes of bread, instead of napkins.

The dinner to which they were shortly after invited by the keeper of the great seal was more magnificent than that given them by the shah. “Soon after we entered,” says Bell, “there were served up a great variety of sweetmeats, and all kinds of fruit that the climate afforded. Coffee and sherbet were carried about by turns. We were placed cross-legged on the carpets, except the ambassador, who had a seat. During this part of the feast we were entertained with vocal and instrumental music, dancing boys, tumblers, puppets, and jugglers. All the performers executed their parts with great dexterity. Two of them counterfeited a quarrel, one beat off the other’s turban with his foot, out of which dropped about fifteen or twenty large serpents, which ran or crawled about the room. One of them came towards me with great speed, which soon obliged me to quit my place. On seeing us alarmed, they told us the creatures were altogether inoffensive, as their teeth had been all drawn out. The fellow went about the room, and gathered them again into his turban, like so many eels. The victuals were now served in a neat and elegant manner. Every thing was well dressed in the Persian fashion. Our host was very cheerful, and contributed every thing in his power to please his guests. He excused himself handsomely enough for not having wine, as it was not then used at court.”

Two days after this the ambassador received intimation, that the business of the embassy being concluded, he might depart when he pleased; but the Russ, who seems to have relished the pilaus of Ispahan, would have been better pleased to have remained where he was the whole year. However, it being clear that the disciples of Ali by no means participated in his feelings, he unwillingly prepared to encounter once more his native fogs and snows. They left Ispahan on the 1st of September, and proceeded through Kasbin and Ghilān towards Shamakia. At Kasbin many of the ambassador’s suite, and Bell among the number, were attacked by a pestilential fever, which appears to have been the plague; but they all, excepting one person, recovered. They, however, lost twenty-two of their number before they finally quitted the Persian dominions.

It being the depth of winter when the ambassador arrived at Shamakia, he resolved to remain there until the following summer, time, in his opinion, being of little value. Accordingly it was not until the 26th of June that they embarked on the Caspian. Their journey homewards was long and tedious; but they at length reached Petersburg on the 30th of December, 1718; having consumed nearly three years and a half in going to and returning from Ispahan.

Bell observes that Peter, who was in the capital when they arrived, was said to be well satisfied with the conduct of his ambassador, whose principal business was to cultivate and cement amity and a good understanding between the two crowns of Russia and Persia. The city, notwithstanding the Swedish war, which had lasted nearly twenty years, had been greatly improved and adorned during his short absence; and its appearance had been so greatly changed, that he could scarcely imagine himself, he says, in the same place. Other changes had likewise taken place in that short interval. His friend Dr. Areskine was, he found, no more, having died about six weeks previous to his arrival. However, he was kindly received by his other friends, as well Russian as English; and he mentions it as a circumstance worthy of remark, that he met among the former with many persons of much worth and honour.

Captain Valensky, the Persian ambassador, having contracted a friendship for him during their journey, continued to regard him with the same feelings after their return; and when, on hearing that the czar was about to despatch an embassy to China, Bell expressed an ardent desire to accompany it, recommended him in such a manner to the ambassador, Captain Ismailoff, as not only procured his reception into the suite of the mission, but the friendship of that worthy man for the remainder of his life.

Our traveller set out from Petersburg on his way to China on the 14th of July, 1719, and proceeded through Moscow to Kazan, where he awaited the setting in of winter, the journey through Siberia being to be performed in sledges. The poor Swedish generals who had been taken prisoners at Pultowa were still here, regretting, naturally enough, but unavailingly, their long detention from their native land. On the 24th of November, the snow having fallen sufficiently to smooth the roads, Bell and a portion of the ambassador’s suite departed from Kazan. Their road lay through a fertile country, producing abundance of cattle, corn, and honey, and covered, in many places, by vast woods of tall oaks, fir, and birch. The beehives used here were of a remarkable form. The inhabitants, says Bell, take the trunk of a lime-tree, aspen, or any soft wood, of about five or six feet long; having scooped it hollow, they make a large aperture in one side, about a foot in length and four inches broad; they then fix cross rods within the trunk for the bees to build upon, and having done this, close up the place carefully with a board, leaving small notches for the bees to go in and out. These hives are planted in proper places at the side of a wood, and tied to a tree with strong withes, to prevent their being destroyed by the bears, who are great devourers of honey. Bell learned, moreover, that the peasantry in these parts had a method of extracting the honey without destroying the bees; but the persons who gave him the information described the process so indistinctly that he could not understand it.

Their road now lay for many days through dark woods, interspersed at wide intervals with villages and cornfields. The cold daily became more and more intense; thick fogs hung upon the ground; the frost penetrated everywhere. The fingers and toes of those most exposed were frozen, and could only be restored to animation by being rubbed with snow. At length, on the 9th of December, they arrived at Solekampsky, famous for its great salt-works, which, if necessary, could not only have furnished all Russia, but several other countries also, with salt. Vast strata of salt-rocks seem here to extend on all sides at a certain distance from the surface. Pits are sunk to these rocks, and are quickly filled with water, which, being drawn off and boiled in large caldrons, the salt is deposited at the bottom. The vein of salt-rock sometimes runs under the river Kama, in which case it is reached by sinking wooden towers in the stream, as they do when building the piers of a bridge, and piercing through these to the necessary depth. The salt water then springs up, fills the wooden tower, and is pumped off as before. Prodigious strata of this kind of rock traversing the bed of the ocean, may, perhaps, be the cause of the saltness of its waters.

There are extensive mines of excellent iron-ore in the same neighbourhood; where is likewise found the asbestos fossil, from which the incombustible linen is manufactured. The value of this laniferous stone is said to have been discovered by a sportsman, who, happening one day to be in want of wadding in the woods, and observing the threadlike fibres of this fossil, plucked some of them off for that use; and finding that the gunpowder had no effect upon them, communicated the fact to others, which led to those inquiries and experiments by which its extraordinary properties were discovered.

From Solekampsky they proceeded to the Oural Mountains, which divide Russia from Siberia. These are covered in all directions by vast forests, excepting in a few valleys where they have been felled by man, where our traveller found the landscape beautiful even in the depth of winter. On descending their eastern slope into the plains, a milder prospect, woods, villages, cornfields, and meadows, met the eye; but winter still reigned over all, binding up the streams, whirling his snow-drifts over the plain, or clothing the forests with frost and icicles. The fogs, however, had disappeared; and as far as the eye could reach, all was snow below and sunshine above. On the 16th of December the gilded crosses and cupolas of Tobolsk were discovered, rising in the distance above the snowy plain; and in the evening of the same day they found themselves agreeably lodged within its walls.

Here, as well as in most of the towns through which they had passed, they found a number of Swedish officers of distinction; among the rest Dittmar, secretary to Charles XII.; and Bell observes that they were permitted to enjoy a considerable share of liberty. They could walk about where they pleased, hunt in the woods, and even make long journeys to visit their countrymen at distant places. He, in fact, so indulgent to tyranny had his residence in Russia rendered him, thought “his majesty” was showing them an especial favour by cantoning them in those parts where they could live well at a small expense, and enjoy all the liberty which persons in their circumstances could expect.