Chapter VI: Part 6

At Rumahia, a small village on the Euphrates, he lodged with two of his Mohammedan companions at the house of a Soonnee, who happened to be the _moollah_ of a mosque. Soon after their arrival, our traveller entered into conversation with his host, and their discourse turning on the subject of marriage, he observed, among other things, that in Europe a man, when he gives his daughter to any one in wedlock, is generally accustomed to add a considerable sum of money. This custom greatly delighted the moollah. “Do you hear,” says he to his mother-in-law, who was sitting near him, while the daughter was preparing their _pilau_,--“do you hear what the stranger is saying? It was not thus that you acted towards me, my mother; I was compelled to pay you a sum of money before you would give me your daughter!” The mother-in-law, after patiently hearing him to the end, replied, “Ah! my son, upon what should I and my daughter have subsisted, had I given thee my field and my date-trees?” This slight interruption in the conversation having ceased, Niebuhr, resuming the thread of the discourse, remarked, that in Europe no man could possess more than one wife, under pain of death; that married persons enjoyed every thing in common; and that their property descended to their children. It was now the old lady’s turn to be eloquent. “Well, my son,” says she, “have you marked what the gentleman has just related? Ah! what justice prevails in those countries! Ah! had you no other wife than my daughter, and could I be sure you would never divorce her, how willingly would I relinquish to you my house, and all I possess!” The young woman, who had hitherto seemed to pay no attention to what was said, now likewise joined in the discussion. “Alas! my husband!” said she, “how can you desire that my mother should give you her house? You would soon bestow it upon your other wives. You love them better than me. I see you so seldom!”

The mother and daughter proceeded in this style for some time, and at length Niebuhr, turning to the moollah, demanded how many wives he had.--“Four,” replied the man. This was the highest number permitted by the law. He had, therefore, indulged his affections to the utmost; and as each of his spouses had a separate house and garden, he flitted at pleasure from wife to wife, and was everywhere received as a man returning home from a long journey. Our traveller inquired of this zealous polygamist whether his private happiness had been increased or diminished by his having availed himself of the privilege of a Mohammedan; but, because his reply was contrary to his own European views, as that of every other Mussulman, whom he had questioned on the subject, had been, he absurdly accused him of insincerity.

From this place he proceeded to _Meshed Ali_, where he was deterred from entering the mosque, by the fear that he might, as a punishment for his presumption, be compelled to profess Mohammedanism; but he admired the exterior of its gilded dome, which glittered like a globe of flame in the sun. The riches of this mosque, allowing much for the exaggeration of the _Shiahs_, must still be immense. The interior of the dome is no less superbly gilt than the exterior, and is adorned with Arabic inscriptions in rich enamel; other inscriptions, in letters of gold, glitter along the walls; while enormous candelabra, in silver and fine gold, set with jewels, support the tapers which afford light to the pious during the darkness of the night. This accumulation of gorgeous ornaments, though supplied from a commendable motive, affects the worshippers injuriously, and once occasioned a pious Arab to exclaim, “Verily, the treasures lavished upon this tomb have made me forget God!”

Niebuhr next visited the ruins of Kufa, and Meshed Hussein, and then returned to Hillah, near which are found the misshapen ruins of Babylon. We must not, as he justly observes, expect to find among the remains of this city any thing resembling the sublime magnificence which cast a halo over the ruins of Persian and Egyptian cities. Babylon, like modern London, was a city of bricks, prodigious in extent, mighty in appearance, but calculated, from the nature of its materials, to give way, when war or time laid its giant hands upon its towers. Its very site is now become an enigma, “a place for the bittern, and pools of water.” Modern travellers, however, have since visited this celebrated spot, and described it so frequently, that it is unnecessary to pause and repeat what they have written, particularly as no two agree upon any one point.

His stay at Babylon was brief, and on the 5th of January, 1766, he left it to proceed towards Bagdad, where he remained until the 3d of March, awaiting the departure of a caravan for Syria. At length, finding no better companions, he departed with a kafilah composed wholly of Jews, from one of whom, who had travelled much in the country, he expected to derive considerable information. He still possessed the sultan’s firman, which he had procured at Constantinople, and had likewise provided himself with a passport from the Pasha of Bagdad. He therefore anticipated no interruption on the way. In proceeding from Bagdad to Mousul, he traversed the plain on which the great battle of Arbela, which reduced Persia to a Macedonian province, was gained by Alexander. Ruin and desolation have since that day been busily at work in these countries. Among the vagabonds who now roam over or vegetate upon these renowned scenes, are a strange people, accused by many writers of worshipping the devil; I mean the _Yezeedis_, who, though suspected by Niebuhr of being an offshoot from the Beyazi sect of Oman, appear to be rather the descendants of the ancient Manichæans, or a remnant of the Hindoo population, worshippers of _Siva_, hurled into this obscure haunt by the storms of war.

At Mousul, where he found numerous Catholic and Nestorian Christians, he was received with extreme scorn, because his worthy coreligionists learned that he did not fast during Lent. However, by allowing himself to be defrauded a little by a Dominican father, a dealer in coins and physic, he quickly regained his character, and, during the remainder of his stay, was reputed a very good Christian. From this city he departed with a numerous caravan, bound partly for Aleppo, partly for Mardin, Orfah, or Armenia. The whole number of the travellers, including a guard of fifty soldiers, and about three or four hundred Arabs, amounted to little less than a thousand men. Yet, notwithstanding their numbers, the slightest report of there being a horde of Kurds in their neighbourhood threw these gallant warriors into consternation, and, upon one particular occasion, their confusion was so extreme that, like the honest knight of La Mancha, they mistook a flock of sheep for an army. The robbers on this road are exceedingly expert in their vocation; and one of the merchants of the caravan, who had often travelled by this route, amused Niebuhr with an anecdote illustrative of their skill, which deserves to be repeated:--He was one night encamped, he said, on the summit of a steep hill, and for the greater security had pitched his tent on the edge of the precipice. He himself kept watch until midnight, at which time he was relieved by his servant, who, as it would appear, soon fell asleep. On awaking about daybreak he observed a robber in the tent. He had already fastened the hook, with which he meant to perform his feat, in a bale of merchandise; but sprang out of the tent, upon perceiving he was discovered, still holding fast the cord of his hook. The merchant, however, immediately detached the hook from the bale, and fastened it in the clothes of his slumbering domestic, who, as the robber continued tugging violently at the cord, was soon roused. The robber pulled, the servant rolled along like a woolsack, and the master had the satisfaction of seeing him tumble down to the bottom of the hill, that he might in future be somewhat more careful of his master’s property.

Niebuhr himself, whose cautious temper generally defended him from danger, had on this journey a trifling adventure with an Arab sheïkh. It entered into the head of this fiery young Islamite that it would be amusing to have a frolic with a Giaour, and for this purpose he deprived our traveller of his bed and counterpanes. Niebuhr complained to the caravan bashi, but could only get a portion of his property restored. Next day, therefore, he applied to the sheïkh himself, who, instead of returning the articles, only jested with him upon his uncharitable disposition, which would not allow him to share his luxuries, even for a few days, with a true believer, who was willing to be condescending enough to sleep on the bed of an infidel. Our traveller, hoping to terrify the Arab, now produced the sultan’s firman, and the Pasha of Bagdad’s passport; but this only rendered matters worse. “Here in the desert,” said the sheïkh, “_I_ am thy sultan and thy pasha. Thy papers have no authority with me!” Some days afterward, however, the Arab returned him his effects, from fear, according to Niebuhr, of the Governor of Mardin; but more probably because he had never intended to retain them.

From this point of his travels he proceeded by way of Mardin, Diarbekr, and Orfah, to Aleppo, where he arrived on the 6th of June. Here he remained some time, during which he acquired the friendship of the celebrated Dr. Patrick Russel, from whom he received much information respecting the Kurds and Turkomans, whose principal chiefs frequently visited our distinguished countryman at his house. His inquiries likewise extended to the Nassaireah and Ismaeleah, who, from the accounts of the Mohammedans and oriental Christians, would appear to have preserved among them the rites and ceremonies of the ancient worshippers of Venus. Nocturnal orgies, in which every man chose his mistress in the dark, and the adoration of the Yoni, in a young woman who exposed herself naked for the purpose of receiving this extravagant reverence, were likewise attributed to them; but, as Niebuhr observes, there is nothing too absurd or abominable to be related by the orthodox and dominant party of a persecuted heretical sect. He, in fact, found that the Roman Catholics everywhere in the East represented their Protestant brethren as persons who lived without hope and without God in the world; while we, on the other hand, look upon them as idolaters, as far removed as the pagans of old from the pure religion of Christ.

After the death of his companions, Niebuhr had applied to the Danish government for permission to extend his journey in the East, and, through the benevolence of Count Bernstorf, his wishes had been readily complied with. He therefore passed from Syria into Cyprus, for the purpose of copying certain Phenician inscriptions at Cittium, the birth-place of Zeno, which had, it was suspected, been incorrectly copied by Pococke. Finding no inscriptions of the kind on the spot to which he had been directed, he, with an illiberality which was not common with him, imputed to Pococke the gross absurdity of having confounded Armenian with Phenician characters; but, as his recent biographer remarks, it is more probable that the stones had, in the interval, been removed.

From Cyprus he passed over into Palestine, visited Jerusalem, Sidon, Mount Lebanon, and Damascus, and then returned to Aleppo. Here he continued until the 20th of November, 1766, when he set out with a caravan for Brusa, in Asia Minor; and in traversing the table-land of Mount Taurus, suffered, says one of his biographers, as much from frosts, piercing winds, and snow-drifts, as he could have done in a winter journey in northern regions. Lofty mountains are everywhere cold. Chardin nearly perished among the snows of Mount Caucasus; Don Ulloa suffered severely from the same cause in the Andes, almost directly under the equator; and the lofty range of the Himalaya, which divides Hindostan from Tibet, is so excessively cold, that Baber Khan, though a soldier and a Tartar, beheld with terror the obstacle which these mountains presented to his ambition; and their summits have hitherto been protected by cold from human intrusion. Upon reaching Brusa, however, he reposed himself for some time, and then set out for Constantinople, where he arrived on the 20th of February, 1767.

Here he remained three or four months, studying the institutions of the empire, civil and military. He then directed his course through Roumelia, Bulgaria, Wallachia, and Moldavia, towards Poland, and on arriving at Warsaw was received with extraordinary politeness by King Stanislaus Poniatowsky, with whom he afterward corresponded for many years. From Warsaw he continued his journey towards Copenhagen, and visited on the way Göttingen and his beloved native place, when the death of his mother’s brother, during his absence, had left him in possession of a considerable marsh-farm. He arrived at Copenhagen in November, and was received in the most flattering manner by the court, the ministers, and men of science.

Niebuhr now employed himself in preparing his various works for publication. The “Description of Arabia” was published in 1772, and although it must unquestionably be regarded as one of the most exact and copious works of the kind ever composed on any Asiatic country, it met with but a cold reception from the public. This, however, is not at all surprising. Written in the old style of books of travels, which appear to have aimed at imparting instruction without at all interesting the imagination, it can never be relished by the generality of readers, who at all times, and especially in these latter ages, have required to be cheated into knowledge by the secret but irresistible charms of composition. Niebuhr, unfortunately, possessed in a very limited degree the art of an author. His style has nothing of that life and vivacity which compensates, in many writers, for the want of method. But those who neglect his works on these accounts are to be pitied; for they abound with information, and everywhere exhibit marks of a remarkable power of penetrating into the character and motives of men, and a noble, manly benevolence, which generally inclines to a favourable, but just interpretation. He understood the Arabs better than almost any other traveller, and his opinion of them upon the whole was remarkably favourable. It is to him, therefore, that in an attempt to appreciate the character of this extraordinary people, I would resort, in preference even to Volney, who, whatever might be the perspicuity of his mind, had far fewer data whereon to found his conclusions.

In 1773 he married, and his wife bore him two children, a daughter and B. G. Niebuhr, the author of the “Roman History.” Next year the first volume of his “Travels” appeared, and was received by the public no less coldly than the “Description of Arabia;” which was, perhaps, the cause why the second volume was not published until 1778; and why the third, which would have completed his “Travels’” history, was never laid before the world, or even prepared for publication. This is exceedingly to be regretted, as, whatever may be the defects of Niebuhr as an author, which it appeared to be my duty to explain, he was, as an observer, highly distinguished for sagacity; and his account of Asia Minor would have been still valuable, notwithstanding all that has since been written on that country.

He continued to live at Copenhagen for ten years; but at length the retirement of Count Bernstorf from the ministry, and a report that General Huth designed to despatch him into Norway for the purpose of making a geographical survey of that country, disgusted him with the capital. He therefore demanded of the government permission to exchange his military for a civil appointment, and accordingly obtained the situation of secretary of the district of Meldorf, whither he removed his family in the year 1778. This town afforded Niebuhr few opportunities of entering into society. He consequently endeavoured to extract from solitude and from study the pleasures which he could not take in the company of mankind, and addicted himself to gardening and books. When his children had reached an age to require instruction, he undertook to conduct their education himself. “He instructed us,” says his son, “in geography, and related to us many passages of history. He taught me English and French--better, at any rate, than they would have been taught by anybody else in such a place; and something of mathematics, in which he would have proceeded much further, had not want of zeal and desire in me unfortunately destroyed all his pleasure in the occupation. One thing, indeed, was characteristic of his whole system of teaching: as he had no idea how anybody could have knowledge of any kind placed before him, and not seize it with the greatest avidity, and hold to it with the steadiest perseverance, he became disinclined to teach whenever we appeared inattentive or reluctant to learn. As the first instruction I received in Latin, before I had the good fortune to become a scholar of the learned and excellent Jäger, was very defective, he helped me, and read with me “Cæsar’s Commentaries.” Here again, the peculiar bent of his mind showed itself: he always called my attention much more strongly to the geography than the history. The map of Ancient Gaul by D’Anville, for whom he had the greatest reverence, always lay before us. I was obliged to look out every place as it occurred, and to tell its exact situation. His instruction had no pretensions to be grammatical; his knowledge of the language, so far as it went, was gained entirely by reading, and by looking at it as a whole. He was of opinion that a man did not deserve to learn what he had not principally worked out for himself; and that a teacher should be only a helper to assist the pupil out of otherwise inexplicable difficulties. From these causes his attempts to teach me Arabic, when he had already lost that facility in speaking it without which it is impossible to dispense with grammatical instruction, to his disappointment and my shame, did not succeed. When I afterward taught it myself, and sent him translations from it, he was greatly delighted.

“I have the most lively recollection of many descriptions of the structure of the universe, and accounts of eastern countries, which he used to tell me instead of fairy tales, when he took me on his knee before I went to bed. The history of Mohammed; of the first califs, particularly of Omar and Ali, for whom he had the deepest veneration; of the conquests and spread of Islamism; of the virtues of the heroes of the new faith, and of the Turkish converts, were imprinted on my childish imagination in the liveliest colours. Historical works on these same subjects were nearly the first books that fell into my hands.

“I recollect, too, that on the Christmas-eve of my tenth year, by way of making the day one of peculiar solemnity and rejoicing to me, he went to a beautiful chest containing his manuscripts, which was regarded by us children, and indeed by the whole household, as a kind of ark of the covenant; took out the papers relating to Africa, and read to me from them. He had taught me to draw maps, and with his encouragement and assistance I soon produced maps of Habbesh and Soudan.

“I could not make him a more welcome birthday present than a sketch of the geography of eastern countries, or translations from voyages and travels, executed as might be expected from a child. He had originally no stronger desire than that I might be his successor as a traveller in the East. But the influence of a very tender and anxious mother upon my physical training and constitution, thwarted his plan, almost as soon as it was formed. In consequence of her opposition, my father afterward gave up all thoughts of it.

“The distinguished kindness he had experienced from the English, and the services which he had been able to render to the East India Company, by throwing light upon the higher part of the Red Sea, led him to entertain the idea of sending me, as soon as I was old enough, to India. With this scheme, which, plausible as it was, he was afterward as glad to see frustrated as I was myself, many things, in the education he gave me, was intimately connected. He taught me, by preference, out of English books, and put English works, of all sorts, into my hands. At a very early age he gave me a regular supply of English newspapers: circumstances which I record here, not on account of the powerful influence they have had on my maturer life, but as indications of his character.”

In the winter of 1788 he received from Herder a copy of his “Persepolis,” which afforded him one proof that he was not forgotten by his countrymen. He took a deep interest in the war which was then raging against Turkey; for, in proportion to his love for the Arabs, was his hatred of the Turks, whom he cordially desired to see expelled from Europe. The French expedition to Egypt, however, was no object of gratification to him; for his dislike of the French was as strong as his dislike of the Turks, convinced that their absurd vanity and want of faith would infallibly neutralize the good effects even of the revolution itself. I am sorry to discover that, among other prejudices, he was led, partly, perhaps, from vanity, to accuse Bruce of having copied his astronomical observations; of having fabricated his conversation with Ali Bey; as well as, to borrow the strange language of his recent English biographer, “the pretended _journey over the Red Sea_, in _the country of Bab el Mandeb_, as well as that on the coast south from Cosseir.” The same writer informs us that “Niebuhr read Bruce’s work _without prejudice_, and the conclusion he arrived at was the same which is, since the second Edinburgh edition, and the publication of Salt’s two journeys, _the universal and ultimate one_.” During the composition of these Lives, I have almost constantly avoided every temptation to engage in controversy with any man; I hope, likewise, that I have escaped from another, and still stronger temptation, to exalt my own countrymen at the expense of foreigners; but I cannot regard it as my duty, on the present occasion, to permit to pass unnoticed what appears to me a mere ebullition of envy in Niebuhr, and of weakness and want of reflection in his biographer. What is meant by a “_journey over the Red Sea?_” And where does Bruce pretend to have travelled in the “_country_ of _Bab el Mandeb?_” These Arabic words are, I believe, by oriental scholars acknowledged to signify the “Gate of Tears,” and were anciently applied to what is commonly called the “Strait of Bab el Mandel,” from the belief that those who issued through that strait into the ocean could never return. The biographer seems to misunderstand the state of the question. Bruce has often been charged with never having sailed down the Red Sea so far as the strait, notwithstanding his assertions in the affirmative. But who are his accusers? Lord Valentia, Salt, and others of that stamp; men who never dared to venture their beards amid the dangers which Bruce encountered intrepidly. With respect to the coast from Cosseir southward, what, I will venture to inquire, could Niebuhr have known about the matter? Had he ever set his foot upon it? Had he even beheld it from a distance? If he relied, as in fact he did, upon the testimony of others, who were they? what were their opportunities? and what their claims to be believed? I am far from insinuating that Lord Valentia and Mr. Salt have entered into a conspiracy to wound the memory of Bruce; but, to adopt the language of an old orator, I would ask these gentlemen if they themselves could have been guilty of the impudent mendacity which they impute to Bruce? If, as there can be no doubt on the subject, Lord Valentia and Mr. Salt would spurn the imputation, is it to be for a moment believed that the discoverer of the sources of the Nile, the honourable, the fearless, the brave Bruce, could have condescended to do what these individuals, who, compared with him, are insignificant and obscure, would, by their own confession, have shrunk from perpetrating? But my unwillingness to speak harshly of Niebuhr, whose name ranks with me among those of the most honest and useful of travellers, forbids me to carry this discussion any further. I honour him for his knowledge, for his integrity, for his high sense of honour; but, for this very reason, I vehemently condemn his unjust attack upon the memory of our illustrious traveller. The opinion of his recent biographer, an able and, I make no doubt, a conscientious man, appears evidently to have arisen from an imperfect knowledge of the subject, and is therefore the less entitled to consideration.

The account given by his distinguished son of the latter days of this meritorious traveller is worthy of finding a place here. “His appearance,” says he, “was calculated to leave a delightful picture in the mind. All his features, as well as his extinguished eyes, wore the expression of the extreme and exhausted old age of an extraordinarily robust nature. It was impossible to behold a more venerable sight. So venerable was it, that a Cossack who entered an unbidden guest into the chamber where he sat with his silver locks uncovered, was so struck with it, that he manifested the greatest reverence for him, and a sincere and cordial interest for the whole household. His sweetness of temper was unalterable, though he often expressed his desire to go to his final home, since all which he had desired to live for had been accomplished.

“A numerous, and as yet unbroken, family circle was assembled around him; and every day in which he was not assailed by some peculiar indisposition he conversed with cheerfulness and cordial enjoyment on the happy change which had taken place in public affairs. We found it very delightful to engage in continued recitals of his travels, which he now related with peculiar fulness and vivacity. In this manner he once spoke much and in great detail of Persepolis, and described the walls on which he had found the inscriptions and bas-reliefs, exactly as one would describe those of a building visited within a few days and familiarly known. We could not conceal our astonishment. He replied, that as he lay in bed, all visible objects shut out, the pictures of what he had beheld in the East continually floated before his mind’s eye, so that it was no wonder he could speak of them as if he had seen them yesterday. With like vividness was the deep intense sky of Asia, with its brilliant and twinkling host of stars, which he had so often gazed at by night, or its lofty vault of blue by day, reflected in the hours of stillness and darkness on his inmost soul; and this was his greatest enjoyment. In the beginning of winter he had another bleeding at the nose, so violent that the bystanders expected his death; but this also he withstood.

“About the end of April, 1815, the long obstruction in his chest grew much worse; but his friendly physician alleviated the symptoms, which to those around him appeared rather painful than dangerous. Towards evening on the 26th of April, 1815, he was read to as usual, and asked questions which showed perfect apprehension and intelligence; he then sunk into a slumber, and departed without a struggle.”

Niebuhr had attained his eighty-second year. He was a man rather below than above the middle size, but robust in make, and exceedingly oriental in air and gestures. As might be clearly enough inferred from his works, he was no lover of poetry; for, though he is said to have admired Homer in the German translation of Voss, together with the Herman and Dorothea of Goëthe, this might be accounted for upon a different principle. His imagination, however, was liable to be sometimes excited in a very peculiar way. “It is extraordinary,” says his son, “that this man, so remarkably devoid of imagination, so exempt from illusion, waked us on the night in which his brother died, though he was at such a distance that he knew not even of his illness, and told us that his brother was dead. What had appeared to him, waking or dreaming, he never told us.”

MARIE GABRIEL AUGUSTE FLORENT, LE COMTE DE CHOISEUL-GOUFFIER.

Born 1752.--Died 1817.

I have frequently regretted, during the composition of these Lives, that the materials for the early biography of many celebrated men should be so scanty and incomplete as I have found them. It seems to be considered sufficient if we can obtain some general notion respecting their literary career, and, in consequence, criticism too frequently usurps the place of anecdote and narrative. The Comte de Choiseul-Gouffier occupied, however, too prominent a place among his contemporaries, both from his rank and talents, to allow any portion of his life to pass unnoticed; though it were to be wished that those who have spoken of him had been less eloquent and more circumstantial. The style of mortuary panegyric seems less designed, indeed, to make known the qualities or adventures of the deceased than to afford the orator an apology for casting over his memory a veil of fine language, which as effectually conceals from the observer the real nature of the subject as his stiff sombre pall conceals his hearse and coffin. Such, notwithstanding, are the only sources, besides his own works, from which a knowledge of this celebrated and able traveller is to be derived.

Choiseul-Gouffier was born at Paris in 1752. His family was scarcely less ancient or illustrious than that of the kings of France, in every page of whose history, says M. Dacier, we find traces of its importance and splendour. He pursued his youthful studies at the College D’Harcourt. Like Swift, and many other literary men who have acquired a high reputation in after-life, Choiseul did not render himself remarkable for a rapid progress or precocious abilities at school. He was attentive to his studies, however; and while he exhibited a decided taste for literature, his passion for the fine arts was no less powerful. At this period, says M. Dacier, a great name and a large fortune had frequently no other effect than to inspire their owners with the love of dissipation and frivolous amusement, which they were aware could in no degree obstruct their career in the road to honour and office, which, however worthless might be their characters, was opened to them by their birth. From this general contagion Choiseul was happily protected by his studious habits. Every moment which he could with propriety snatch from the duties of his station was devoted to literature and the arts of design. Above all things, he admired with enthusiasm whatever had any relation to ancient Greece,--a country which, from his earliest boyhood, he passionately desired to behold, as the cradle of poetry, of the arts, and of freedom, rich in historical glory, and rendered illustrious by every form of genius which can ennoble human nature.

Being in possession of a fortune which placed within his reach the gratification of these ardent wishes, he nevertheless did not immediately commence his travels. In defiance of the fashion of the times, which proscribed as unphilosophical the honest feelings of the heart, Choiseul seems to have fallen early in love, and at the age of nineteen was married to the heiress of the Gouffier family, whose name he ever afterward associated with his own. Like all other persons of noble birth, he as a matter of course adopted the profession of arms, and was at once complimented with the rank of colonel, which it was customary to bestow upon such persons on their entrance into the service.

At length, after a protracted delay, which considering his years is not to be regretted, Choiseul-Gouffier departed for Greece in the month of March, 1776. Having enjoyed the advantages of the conversation and instruction of Barthélemy, who had himself profoundly studied Greece in her literary monuments, Choiseul-Gouffier was, perhaps, as well prepared to exercise the duties of a classical traveller as any young man of twenty-five could be expected to be. In aid of his own exertions he took along with him several artists and literary men, of whom some were distinguished for their taste or natural abilities. He was transported to Greece on board the _Atalante_ ship of war, commanded by the Marquis de Chabert, himself a member of the Academy of Sciences, and appointed by the government to construct a reduced chart of the Mediterranean. This gentleman, who seems in some measure to have possessed a congenial taste, engaged to transport Choiseul-Gouffier to whatever part of Greece he might be desirous of visiting, and to lie off the land during such time as he should choose to employ in his excursions and researches.

On his arrival in Greece, Choiseul-Gouffier commenced at once his researches and his drawings. He was not a mere classical traveller; his principal object, it is true, was, as his French biographers assert, to study the noble remains of antiquity, the wrecks of that splendid and imperfect civilization which had once covered the soil on which he was now treading, with all the glory of the creative arts; but, besides this, he had an eye for whatever was interesting in the existing population, which, with every thinking and feeling man, he must have regarded as by far the most august and touching ruin which the traveller can behold in Greece. The mere undertaking of such an enterprise presupposes an intense enthusiasm for antiquity. Poetry, history, freedom, beauty, animate and inanimate, had separately and collectively produced on his mind an impassioned veneration for the Hellenic soil; and he saw with equal delight the scene of a fable and the site of a city.

In pursuance of the plan which he had traced out for himself previous to leaving France, he examined with scrupulous care all the fragments and ruins within the scope of his researches. After touching on the southern coast of the Morea, and sketching the castle of Coron, with various Albanian soldiers whom he met with on the shore, he proceeded to the isles,--Milo, Siphanto, Naxia, Delos, where the wrecks of antiquity and the grotesque costume and manners of modern times exercised his elegant pencil and pen. Those persons who have visited countries where the ruins of former ages eclipse, as it were, the stunted heirs of the soil, will comprehend the difficulty of attending, amid monuments rendered doubly sublime by decay, to the rude attempts at architecture and the undignified circumstances which mark the existence of a population relapsed into ignorance. To these, however, Choiseul-Gouffier was by no means inattentive. He sketched, and it would seem with equal complacency, the ruins of some venerable temple and the beautiful dark-eyed girl of the Ionian Islands, plaiting her tresses, or sporting with her fat, long-haired Angola.

In sketching the life of this traveller, I must beware that I am not carried away by classical recollections. Here, where

Not a mountain rears its head unsung,

it might, perhaps, be pleasing to a certain variety of minds to expatiate at leisure over the immortal fields of fable, and the scenes of actions which man is still proud to have performed; and if I abstain from entering upon the subject, it is not from any indifference to its charms, or that I want faith in its powers to produce, if properly handled, the same effect upon others which it has long exercised over me. But this is not the place to indulge in themes of this kind. Biography rejects all pictures of such a description, and requires narrative; and accordingly I proceed with the history of our traveller’s labours.

In the course of his visits to the Grecian islands he beheld the famous Grotto of Antiparos, so eloquently described by Tournefort. Their opinions respecting its wonderful construction did not, as might very well be expected, agree; but if the botanist exaggerated, I think the young antiquarian underrated its richness and grandeur, probably from a desire to check his ardent imagination, or by an ill-timed application of his philosophy. From thence, touching at Skyros in his way, he proceeded to Lemnos, Mitelin, Scio, Samos, Patmos, and Rhodes, and thence into Asia Minor. Here he commenced operations with the ruins of Telmissus, in ancient Lycia. He sketched the sarcophagi, the Necropolis, the tombs, theatre, and other antiquities; and having also drawn up an account of his researches, and a description of the existing ruins, set off through Caria towards the river Mæander, and Ephesus, and Smyrna, and Troy. Throughout the whole of this incomparably interesting route, the same lavish researches were undertaken and conducted with vast expense and perseverance. But on arriving upon the plains of Troy, his exertions, everywhere enthusiastic, appeared to be redoubled. Choiseul-Gouffier was an impassioned admirer of Homer. No other poet, in fact, ever possesses so firm a hold upon the youthful mind as this ancient bard, because no one paints so truly those boiling passions which prevail in youth, and with which all men sympathize, until age or some other cause damps their energy, and makes them, as Shakspeare expresses it, “babble of green fields,” and tranquillity, and security, and civilization.

For the admirers of Homer, our traveller’s researches in the ancient empire of Priam must possess more than ordinary charms. Having to the best of his ability determined the extent and limits of the Trojan territories, he fixes the site of the city, and traces to their sources the rivers Simois and Scamander. He then presents the reader with views of the most remarkable spots in the neighbourhood of the city, which are either mentioned by Homer, or referred to by celebrated writers of later date; Mount Gargarus, the camp of the Greeks, the tombs of Ilus, Achilles, and Patroclus.

On his return to France he laboured assiduously at the arranging of the rich and various materials which he had collected during his travels. An author, and, above all, a traveller of distinguished rank, is always secure beforehand of a flattering reception. Choiseul-Gouffier experienced this truth. Fearful lest their compliments should come too late, and be paid, not to his rank, but to his merit, the members of the Académie des Belles-Lettres, in obedience, says M. Dacier, to the public voice, elected our traveller a member of their body in the room of Mons. Foncemagne in 1779, before the publication of the “Voyage Pittoresque de la Grèce.” This splendid work, which was at least equal to any thing which had been published of the kind, and in many respects superior, was expected with impatience, and read on its appearance with avidity. Praise, which in France is but too lavishly bestowed upon noble authors, was now showered down in profusion upon our traveller. He, however, deserved high commendation. The design of the work was in itself exceedingly praiseworthy, and its execution, whether we consider the literary portion or the embellishments, highly honourable to the taste and talents of the author. Barthélemy, in such matters a judge inferior to none, conceived so favourable an opinion of his accuracy, that he in many instances appealed to his authority in his “Travels of Anacharsis.”

What tended still more powerfully to promote the success of the “Voyage Pittoresque de la Grèce” than all these praises was, the lively, elegant style in which it is composed. Although the polished simplicity of the preceding age had already begun to give way before laborious struggles after strength and originality, Choiseul-Gouffier belonged rather to the old than the new school. His learning a profession, which young men are rather apt to display than to hide, was not very profound, I suspect, in 1782, when the first volume of his travels appeared; and therefore the more credit is due to him for his moderation in the use of it. But I am far from thinking, with M. Dacier, that he purposely masked his acquirements, from the fear of frightening away the men of the world. He was not, as I have already observed, unmindful of the modern Greeks. Convinced that, next to the love of God, patriotism, expressed in Scripture by the love of our neighbour, is the best foundation of national and individual happiness, our traveller was vehement in his exhortations to the Greeks to recover their liberty. He even pointed out to them the means by which this was to be effected. He appealed to the priests, as to those who exercised the most powerful influence over the popular mind, to sanctify the enterprise; and, by associating the spirit of religion with that of liberty, to inspire their flocks with the zeal of martyrs by spiritual incitements or menaces.

In 1784 the success of the first volume of his travels threw open to him the doors of the French Academy, where he was elected to fill up the vacancy occasioned by the death of D’Alembert. The circumstances attending his reception into this celebrated literary body were particularly flattering. Never, according to the records of the times, had there been collected together a more numerous or more brilliant assembly. The discourse of the traveller was finely conceived, and executed with ability. The subject was, of course, determined by usage; it was the eulogium of his predecessor. Having, according to custom, by which all such things are regulated, occasion to allude to the birth of D’Alembert, he executed this delicate part of his task in a manner so judicious and manly, that from a circumstance, in itself unfortunate and dishonourable, he contrived to attach additional interest to the memory of his predecessor. “And yet,” said he, “what was this celebrated man, whom Providence had destined to extend the boundaries of human knowledge? You understand me, gentlemen; and why should I hesitate to express what I consider it honourable to feel? Why should I, by a pusillanimous silence, defraud his memory of that tribute which all noble minds are fond to pay to unfortunate virtue and genius in obscurity? What was he?--An unhappy, parentless child, cast forth from his cradle to perish, who owed to symptoms of approaching death and the humanity of a public officer the advantage of being snatched from amid that unfortunate multitude of foundlings, who are kept alive only to remain in eternal ignorance of their name and race!”

It was on this occasion that he received one of those compliments which men of genius sometimes pay to each other, and which, when deserved, are among the most cherished rewards that can be granted to distinguished abilities. Delille, whom he had long numbered among his friends, eagerly seized upon the opportunity which was now offered him of expressing his admiration of his enthusiasm and taste. He accordingly drew forth from his pocket a splendid fragment of his poem entitled “Imagination,” which was not published until twenty years afterward, and read it to the academy. It related to Greece, which Choiseul-Gouffier had visited and depicted. He represents the forlorn genius of that ancient country singling out from among the crowd of ordinary travellers one young lover of the arts, recommending to his notice the glory of her ancient monuments and brilliant recollections, and promising him as his reward the academic palm in a _New Athens_. The verses, in spite of the national vanity of comparing Paris with Athens, and some other defects which I need not pause to point out, are highly poetical and beautiful; and the reader will not, I think, regret to find them here subjoined.

Hâte toi, rends la vie à leur gloire éclipsée
Pour prix de tes travaux, dans un nouveau Lycée
Un jour je te promets la couronne des arts.
Il dit et dans le fond de leurs tombeau épars,
Des Platon, des Solon les ombres l’entendirent:
Du jeune voyageur tous les sens tressaillirent:
Aussitôt dans ces lieux, berceau des arts naissans,
Accourent à sa voix les arts reconnaissans;
Le Dessin le premier prend son crayon fidèle,
Et, tel qu’un tendre fils, lorsque la mort cruelle
D’une mère adorée a terminé le sort
A ses restes sacrés s’attache avec transport,
Demande à l’air, au temps d’épargner sa poussière
Et se plaît à tracer une image si chère;
Ainsi par l’amour même instruit dans ces beaux lieux
Le Dessin, de la Grèce enfant ingénieux,
Va chercher, va saisir, va tracer son image;
Et belle encor, malgré les injures de l’âge
Avec ses monumens, ses héros, et ses dieux,
La Grèce reparaît tout entière à nos yeux.

Shortly after this Choiseul-Gouffier was appointed ambassador of France to the Ottoman Porte, and, in selecting the companions of his mission, was not unmindful of Delille. The poet, therefore, accompanied him to Constantinople; and according to the testimony of both, many years after their return, nothing could exceed the delight of their residence in the East, and their visits to the spots celebrated in Grecian story. Choiseul-Gouffier would, from all accounts, appear to have been a man of enlarged views, friendly towards all nations, as well as towards every art, and anxious to promote the general interests of civilization. His agreeable manners enabled him quickly to acquire the confidence of Halil Pasha, the Turkish grand vizier, and of Prince Mauro Cordato, first dragoman of the Porte; and he succeeded in inspiring both with a desire to introduce among the Turks the arts and civilization of Europe. By his advice, engineer, artillery, and staff officers were invited from France to Constantinople, to instruct the Ottomans in the theory and practice of war. The impulse once given, the grand vizier, seconded by the dragoman, who would appear to have possessed unusual influence, repaired the fortifications in the various strong cities of the empire, improved the system of casting cannon, and considerably ameliorated the discipline of the Turkish army. Shortly the public saw with surprise a fine seventy-four, constructed by Leroy, after the most approved European method, launched from the docks of Constantinople; and the system thus introduced has ever since been followed in all the docks of the empire. To crown all these efforts, our traveller prevailed on the vizier to send thirty Turkish youths to receive their education in Paris; and had not this part of the scheme been defeated by religious fanaticism, there is no foreseeing to how great an extent this measure might have influenced the destinies of Turkey.

When war had broken out between the Porte and Russia, in spite of the efforts of the French ambassador to prevent the rupture, he continued to perform the part of a conciliator. It was by his intercession that the Russian ambassador, imprisoned contrary to the law of nations in the Seven Towers, was liberated, and placed on board a French frigate, commanded by the Prince de Rohan, which conveyed him to Trieste. And afterward, when Austria had determined to unite its forces with those of Russia to attack the common enemy of Christendom, Choiseul-Gouffier succeeded in preventing the imprisonment of its internuncio, whom he caused to embark with all his family and suite on board two French ships, which conveyed them to Leghorn. At the same time he effectually protected the Russian and Austrian prisoners detained in chains at Constantinople, and carefully caused to be distributed among them the provisions which their governments or families conveyed to them through his means. Several of these miserable beings he ransomed from captivity with his own money, particularly a young Austrian officer who had fallen into the hands of a cruel master, and who, resigned to his unhappy condition, appeared only to grieve for the affliction which the sad lot of their only son would cause his aged parents. His zeal for the interests of Turkey was not less remarkable. For not only did he in like manner protect the Turkish prisoners in Russia, but he caused French ships to transport provisions to Constantinople and the Black Sea, whose losses, when they incurred any, he made up out of his own private fortune.

In the midst of those assiduous and important cares which the policy and critical position of the Ottoman empire required of him, he at no time lost sight of the commerce and other interests of his country. He moreover found leisure for the indulgence of his old classical tastes, and once more ran over, with the Iliad in his hand, the whole of the Troad and the other places celebrated by Homer. In addition to this, he despatched several artists to Syria and Egypt at his own expense, for the purpose of exploring and sketching ancient monuments, ruins, picturesque sites, and in general whatever was worthy of occupying the attention of the learned world. In 1791 he was appointed by the new government ambassador to the court of London; but as his political principles would not allow him to acknowledge the authority from which this nomination proceeded, he still continued at Constantinople, from whence he addressed all his despatches to the brothers of Louis XVI., then in Germany. This correspondence was seized during the following year by the French army in Champagne, and on the 22d of November, 1792, a decree of arrest was passed against him.

Not long after this event he departed from Constantinople, honoured with distinguished marks of respect both by the sultan and the grand vizier, and sincerely regretted by his brother ambassadors, and all the French established in the Levant. Being unable to return to France, he retired to Russia, where Catherine, who, as I have already had frequent occasion to observe, was an excellent judge of men, received him in the most flattering manner, and afforded him the most honourable protection. Paul I., on his accession to the throne, distinguished him by new favours, nominated him privy counsellor, director of the academy of arts and of all the imperial libraries, and also gave him many other solid proofs of his esteem. The favour of a madman, however, was necessarily liable to change. The Comte de Cobentzel, with whom Choiseul-Gouffier had lived on very intimate terms, falling into disgrace, he was uncourtly enough to continue the connexion; which so displeased Paul, that our traveller considered it unsafe to remain at court, and retired. No longer seeing his old favourite about him, the imperial lunatic commanded him to return, and upon his approach remarked, in a friendly tone, “M. le Count, there are stormy cloudy days in which it rains misunderstandings; we have experienced one of these; but as we are men of understanding, we have shaken it off, and are only upon the better footing.”

Our traveller, who no doubt saw clearly enough the state of the emperor’s head, and dreaded his relapse into ill-humour, very quickly determined to return to France; where he at length arrived in 1802, stripped of his titles and fortune, and reduced to rely upon his literary rank for distinction. He, however, sought for no office or employment. All his thoughts were now directed towards the completion of his work on his beloved Greece, and during seven years he laboured assiduously at this agreeable undertaking. Other travellers had in the mean while visited and described the same countries; his ideas and views were regarded as antiquated; the interest inspired by his first volume, published twenty-seven years before, had in a great measure ceased; and, more than all this, he himself, worn down by misfortunes, sobered by long adversity, and somewhat unaccustomed to the art of composition, was no longer the same _naïve_, lively author that he had been. He now gave himself up to geographical disquisitions, learned dissertations, and geological remarks. Homer himself, though still his favourite, had undergone a transformation in his eyes. Losing sight of the poet, the matchless painter of human nature, he was satisfied with admiring him as an historian and geographer.

Nevertheless there still remained a mixture of the old leaven in his composition. The sight of the rose harvest near Adrianople in Thrace reawakened all his enthusiasm, and his description of the festival with which it closes, in which the beautiful Grecian girls perform so elegant and classical a part, would certainly not disgrace the pages of Theocritus or Virgil. The completion of the third volume (or rather the 2d part of the second) seems to have been retarded, among other causes, by the composition of several memoirs for the Academy of Inscriptions and Belles-Lettres, on the Olympian Hippodrome, on the origin of the Thracian Bosphorus, and on the personal existence of Homer, which has been called in question by several critics more learned than wise.