Born 1643.—Died 1713.
Sir John Chardin was born at Paris on the 16th of November, 1643. He was
the son of a rich Protestant jeweller, who, as soon as his education,
which appears to have been carefully conducted and liberal, was
completed, intrusted him with the management of a commercial speculation
in the East, and thus at once gratified and influenced the passion for
visiting new and remote regions which had already taken possession of the
mind of our traveller. Leaving Paris at the age of twenty-two, he visited
Hindostan and Persia, where he remained several years, and was appointed
merchant to the king. His manly but shrewd character, united with
extensive knowledge and great suavity of manners, procured him numerous
friends at the court of Ispahan, some of whom filled important offices
in the government, and were thus enabled to lay open to him the interior
movements of the great political machine which he afterward described
with so much vigour and perspicuity. He accompanied the shah on his
visits to various portions of his dominions, and in this way was enabled
to traverse with pleasure and advantage the wilder and least accessible
districts of Persia, such as Mazenderan, Ghilan, and the other provinces
bordering on the Caspian Sea. Of this portion of his life, however,
he did not judge it necessary to give any detailed account; perhaps
because he had afterward occasion to visit the same scenes, when his mind
was riper, his views more enlarged, and his powers of observation and
description sharpened and invigorated by experience and habit.
Returning to France in 1670, he remained fifteen months in the bosom of
his family, and employed this period of tranquillity and leisure in the
composition of his “History of the Coronation of Solyman III., King of
Persia;” a small work usually appended to his account of his travels. The
desire of fame and distinction, however, which in youthful and ardent
minds is generally the ruling passion, urged him once more to quit his
native country, where, as he himself observes, the religion in which he
was educated excluded him from all hope of advancement or honours, in
order to revisit those regions of the East where his faith would be no
bar to his ambition, and where commerce was not thought to degrade even
the majesty of kings.
Having collected together the jewels, gems, and curious clocks and
watches which he had been commissioned to purchase for the King of
Persia, he repaired to Leghorn, where he embarked with his mercantile
companion for Smyrna. Owing to the unskilfulness of the mariners, the
variableness of the winds, and the badness of the weather, this short
voyage was not performed in less than three months, during which the
passengers endured all the privation and misery which such a voyage could
inflict. From Smyrna he proceeded to Constantinople, where, through the
aid of M. de Nointel, the ambassador of France, he was initiated in all
the mysteries of diplomacy, which he unveils in his travels with infinite
skill and _naïveté_ for the amusement of his readers.
In other respects his connexion with the French ambassador was rather
prejudicial than useful to him; for M. de Nointel having conducted
himself in all his negotiations with the Turks in a puerile and
fluctuating manner, passing by turns from extreme haughtiness to extreme
cringing and servility, the anger of the Porte was roused, and directed
against the whole French nation; and Chardin, when he became desirous
of departing, was denied a passport. From this difficult and somewhat
dangerous position he was delivered by the ingenuity of a Greek, who
contrived to procure him a passage to Azoph, on the Palus Mæotis, on
board of a Turkish vessel then about to set sail with the new commandant
and fresh troops which the Porte sent every year to that remote fortress.
The Black Sea, which receives its appellation from the gloomy clouds
and tempestuous winds which hover over and vex its waters in almost
every season of the year, was now to be traversed; and considering the
unskilfulness and apathy of Turkish sailors, who creep timidly along
the shore, and have little knowledge of the use of the compass, our
traveller was not without his apprehensions. After a voyage of eight
days, however, they arrived at Caffa, in the Crimea, where, by the help
of the Greek friend who had enabled him to laugh at the sultan’s beard
and embark without a passport, he eluded the exorbitant demands of the
custom-house, and transported his merchandise on board another vessel
bound for Mingrelia.
Setting sail from Caffa, where there was little to be seen but stinking
Tartars and caviare, they arrived in twenty-four hours at Touzlah, or
the Salt Marshes, a vast sweep of low shore, alternately covered by the
waters of the sea, artificially introduced, and a white saline crust,
looking like a sheet of snow from a distance. Here upwards of two hundred
ships are annually freighted with salt; and it was for the purpose of
taking on board a cargo of this useful merchandise that the vessel in
which Chardin and his companion were embarked now touched at the place.
On landing, the village was found to consist of about ten or twelve
houses, with a small mosque, and a considerable number of felt-covered
tents, which served for stables, kitchens, and dormitories for the
slaves. Salt was by no means the only article of commerce obtained at
this place. Every morning fires were observed lighted along the shore, as
signals that the brigands of the country had laid violent hands upon a
number of their fellow-creatures, and had them conveyed thither, chained
together like cattle, for sale. These fires being observed, boats were
immediately sent on shore; and when they returned, crowds of women and
children, half-naked, or covered with rags and filth, but resplendent
with beauty, were hoisted on board, where their wretched apparel was
exchanged for clean neat garments, and where, perhaps, for the first time
in their lives they tasted bread. The men and boys were chained two and
two every night; the women, from whom no danger was apprehended, were
permitted the free use of their limbs. These Circassians did not fetch
a great price. A Greek merchant, whose cabin was contiguous to that of
Chardin, purchased for twelve crowns a woman of extraordinary beauty,
with an infant at the breast. What chiefly surprised our traveller in the
circumstances of this affair was, the coolness and serenity with which
these honest people submitted to their fate. Had not the women, much
against their will, been compelled to occupy themselves with needlework,
and the men with such little matters as they could perform on board, they
would have been perfectly happy. Idleness was their _summum bonum_; and
this the most beautiful among the women knew they were about to enjoy in
the harems of Turkey.
On arriving at Isgaour, in Mingrelia, the place where the general
market of the country is held, Chardin naturally expected to find human
dwellings, with provisions, and such other necessaries as in civilized
countries are everywhere attainable for money. In this hope he went
on shore, accompanied by the Greek merchant, who had hitherto been in
a manner his guardian angel; but on entering the place, they indeed
found two long rows of huts formed of the branches of trees, where
merchandise and provisions had once been exposed for sale, but now empty
and deserted. In the vicinity of the place neither house nor habitation
appeared as far as the eye could reach. Two or three peasants, however,
who flitted about like spectres among the deserted huts, engaged to bring
on the morrow a quantity of that species of grain called _gom_, which is
bruised, boiled, and eaten instead of bread, together with wine and other
provisions. There being no alternative, they were compelled to rely on
the promises of these men, as they were nearly in want of every necessary
of life; but their presents failing them, it became necessary to
dissemble with his servants, who already began to murmur aloud and curse
the persons by whose advice he had taken the route of the Black Sea,
relying for the future upon the bounty of Providence. The reason why the
market of Isgaour was thus deserted was, that the Abcas, a neighbouring
people of savage character and barbarous manners, having made an
irruption into the country, were now ravaging it with fire and sword,
while the peasantry and their lords were flying before them in dismay, or
plunging for refuge into the deepest recesses of their forests. Ten days
after their arrival these savages passed along the shore in search of
plunder; and finding none in this celebrated market, set the huts on fire
and reduced them to ashes.
In this dilemma, Chardin had much difficulty in determining what course
to take. He had immediately on landing applied for aid to the Catholic
missionaries of Colchis, the chief of whom promised in reply to be with
him by a certain day, but failed in his engagement; and when after a
second application he repaired to the place of rendezvous, it was less
with the design of forwarding our traveller’s views than of dissuading
him from attempting the journey at all. Perceiving, however, that his
advice could not be followed, he rendered the travellers every service
in his power with alacrity, but without in the least concealing the
magnitude of the danger they were about to incur.
It was now the beginning of October, and Chardin, irritated at the
numerous obstacles and hinderances which had impeded his progress, was
so extremely impatient to be in Persia that no dangers appeared to him
so terrible as delay. He had very soon cause to repent his impetuosity.
The evils he had hitherto endured dwindled to nothing when compared
with those which now rushed upon him like a torrent, and threatened to
swallow up in a moment his wealth, his ambitious projects, and his life.
Nevertheless, with that unshrinking courage which his total ignorance
of the future and the pressure of present evils bestows upon man, he
hastened to put his foot upon the shores of Mingrelia; and embarking with
all his merchandise on board the felucca in which the monk had arrived,
set sail for Anarghia, where they next day arrived. Here his followers
made themselves ample amends for the scarcity they had endured at
Isgaour; for poultry, wild pigeons, pork, goats’ flesh, wine, and other
provisions were abundant and cheap.
After remaining nine days at Anarghia, they departed on the 14th, two
hours before day, and having sailed about six miles up the river,
disembarked their merchandise and provisions, with which they loaded
eight small vehicles, and proceeded on their journey by land. The report
that a party of Europeans were passing with incalculable riches through
the country was soon spread; and as few rich travellers ever traversed
Mingrelia, this rumour immediately inflamed to the highest degree the
cupidity of the hungry prince and his feudatories, who forthwith formed
the design of appropriating these treasures to themselves. They arrived,
however, on the evening of the same day at Sipias, the residence of
the missionaries, where they proposed to remain a few days in order to
prepare themselves by a little repose for the fatigues which were to
come, as well as to deliberate with the monks respecting the means of
escaping from the rapacity of the rulers of Mingrelia.
Four days after his arrival, the princess, or queen, as she termed
herself, of Mingrelia, came to Sipias to visit our traveller, attracted
by the rumours of his wealth, as vultures are attracted by the scent
of a carcass. Her majesty was followed by a train of eight women and
ten men, to all of whom a decent suit of clothes and a tolerable beast
to ride on would have been a welcome present, for they were very badly
mounted and meanly clad. In order to ward off, as far as possible, the
dangerous reputation of being rich, which is elsewhere so much coveted,
our travellers endeavoured to pass for Capuchin friars, and pretended
that the baggage with which their vehicles were loaded consisted
entirely of books. The princess believed neither of these stories. Being
informed that Chardin understood Turkish and Persian, she tormented
him, by means of a slave who could speak the former language, with a
thousand questions, of which the greater number turned upon the subject
of love. After pushing these questions beyond the verge of decency, to
the great amusement of her suite, who appeared to be more delighted in
proportion as her majesty became more obscene, she suddenly turned to a
still more embarrassing topic—demanding to examine the effects of our
traveller, and the stores of the monks. They all now trembled for their
property. Whatever she should have seen would have been lost. To allay
her cupidity, therefore, and at least put off the evil day, the principal
monk humbly informed her that the usual present should be sent on the
morrow, accompanied by another from the travellers. With this assurance
she appeared to be satisfied, and departed.
On the next day our traveller and two of the monks were invited to dine
with the princess, and were of course careful not to present themselves
before her empty-handed, it being a crime in the East for an inferior
to come into the presence of his superior without some gift, in token
of dependence and homage. Her highness of Mingrelia, who had painted
her face and adorned her person to the best of her ability, in order to
appear to advantage in the eyes of the traveller, seemed to be highly
gratified with his present, which, though tasteful and elegant, was of
small value, the better to maintain a show of poverty. Some ten or twelve
ragged but merry-looking wenches, and a crowd of half-naked ragamuffins,
constituted the court of this princess, her maids of honour having, as
she assured the traveller, taken refuge in a neighbouring fortress on
account of the war! The better to enjoy the pleasure of tormenting M.
Chardin, she caused him to sit near her, and commenced her attack by
observing, that it was her will and pleasure that he should marry one of
her friends, and settle in the country, when she promised to bestow on
him houses, lands, slaves, and subjects. From all he had heard and seen
of the women of Mingrelia, our traveller would have felt less repugnance
to marrying a vampire than one of them, beautiful as they were; so
that the bare possibility of the thing made him shudder. He was for
the present delivered from the discussion of this painful topic by the
appearance of dinner, during which the princess inflamed her naturally
ardent temperament by copious libations of wine, which stifled whatever
remains of shame might have lingered in her soul, and impelled her to
exhibit all the importunity and effrontery of a courtesan.
The menaces of this princess, who gave them clearly to understand that
she had determined upon visiting the monastery, for the purpose of
examining their treasures, caused them to return dejected and melancholy
from the castle, the monks apprehending new extortions and vexations, and
Chardin the loss of all he possessed. The remainder of the day was passed
in deliberating upon the present posture of affairs, and it was at length
resolved, that as soon as it was night, pits should be dug, and the most
valuable portion of their merchandise buried in the earth. Accordingly,
the sun had no sooner set behind the mountains, than they commenced
operations, first digging a pit five feet deep in the apartments of one
of the monks, where they buried a large chest filled with watches and
clocks set with jewels. When this had been done, and the earth smoothed
over, and made to appear as before, they repaired under cover of the
darkness to the church, where the principal monk advised our traveller
to open the grave of one of the brotherhood, who had been interred there
some six years before, and deposite among his ashes a small casket filled
with the most costly gems of the East, designed for the princesses and
great ladies of Persia. A secret presentiment prevented Chardin from
following this advice, who selected in preference an obscure corner of
the church, where accordingly a pit was sunk, and the casket carefully
interred. Other costly articles, as a sabre and poniard set with jewels,
were concealed in the roof of the monastery; and such articles of great
value as were small and portable our travellers retained about their
persons.
Many days had not elapsed before they were convinced that their fears
were not without foundation. It was now Sunday, and Chardin, in offering
up his prayers to God, according to custom, would not presume, he says,
to petition his Maker for freedom, so persuaded was he that slavery was
to be his fate; he merely prayed for a mild master, and to be delivered
from a Mingrelian wife. While the classical idea of Medea was haunting
his imagination, and disturbing his devotion, a person came running
in, exclaiming that two neighbouring chiefs, with a band of followers,
armed to the teeth, were knocking at the outer gate, and demanding
admittance. There being no alternative, they were allowed to enter,
which they had no sooner done than they seized and bound the travellers,
commanded the monks to retire, and threatened to put to death the first
person who should make the least stir or resistance. The principal friar
was terrified and fled; but the rest stood firmly by their guests,
particularly the lay-brother, whom not even a naked sword pointed at his
throat could induce to abandon them. When the bandits proceeded to bind
their servants, one of the latter, who had a large knife in his hand,
endeavouring to defend himself, was instantaneously struck to the earth
with a lance, bound hand and foot, and fastened to a tree. This being
done, the ruffians informed the travellers that they wished to examine
their effects. Chardin replied that it was within their power; that they
were but poor monks, whose whole wealth consisted in books, papers, and
a few wretched garments, the whole of which, if they would abstain from
violence, should be shown them. Upon this he was unbound, and commanded
to open the door of their apartment, where their books, papers, and
wardrobe were kept. Chardin’s companion had sewn the most valuable of his
jewels in the collar of his coat; but our traveller himself had made two
small packets of his, which were sealed, and put among his books, not
daring to carry them about him lest he should be assassinated, stripped,
or sold for a slave. In order to gain a moment to withdraw these packets,
he requested his companion and the lay-brother to hold the chiefs in
conversation, by pretending to negotiate with them, and offering them a
small sum of money. The stratagem succeeding for an instant, he darted
upstairs, their apartment being on the first floor, entered the chamber,
and locked the door. His design was suspected, and the whole band of
ruffians rushed up after him; but the door being somewhat difficult to
be broken open, he had time to take out his packets and conceal them
in the roof of the house. His companion, however, who was in the room
below, called out to him that he ought to be on his guard, for that he
was observed through the cracks in the floor. Upon hearing this, and
seeing that the door was giving way, he became confused, and scarcely
knowing what he did, took down the jewels out of the roof, thrust them
into his pocket, and opening the window of the apartment, jumped out into
the garden. Without noticing whether he was watched or not, he threw the
packets into a thicket, and then hastened back to the room, now filled
with robbers, some of whom were maltreating his companion, while others
were battering his coffers with their spears or lances, in order to break
them open.
He now plucked up his courage, imagining that the greater part of his
wealth was out of their reach, and bid them take heed of what they did;
that he was the envoy of the King of Persia; and that the Prince of
Georgia would take ample vengeance for whatever violence might be offered
to his person. He then showed them his passport from the king. One of
the chiefs snatched it out of his hand, and was about to tear it in
pieces, saying that he neither feared nor regarded any man upon earth;
but the other, awed by the royal seal and letters of gold, restrained
him. They now said, that if he would open his coffers and allow them to
examine his effects, no violence should be offered him; but that if he
refused any longer, they would strike off his head from his shoulders.
He was still proceeding to contest the point, when one of the soldiers,
impatient to proceed to business, drew his sword, and aimed a blow at
his head, which would have cleft it in twain, had not the villain’s arm
been instantaneously arrested by the lay-brother. Perceiving the kind of
arguments they were disposed to employ, he unlocked his chests, which in
the twinkling of an eye were rummaged to the bottom, while every thing
which appeared to possess any value was taken away. Turning his eyes
from this painful scene towards the garden, he perceived two soldiers
searching among the bushes in the very spot where he had thrown his
jewels; and rushing towards them, followed by one of the monks, they
retired. He then, without reflecting upon the extreme imprudence of his
conduct, began himself to search about for the packets, but not being
able to discover them, he supposed the soldiers had found and carried
them off. As their value was little less than ten thousand pounds, the
loss fell upon him like a thunderbolt. Nevertheless, there was no time
for sorrowing. His companion and the lay-brother were loudly calling
him from the house. He therefore tore himself away from the spot. In
returning towards the house, two soldiers fell upon him, dragged him up
into a corner, and after clearing his pockets of all they contained,
were about to bind him and hurry him off; but after much resistance and
expostulation, they released him, and shortly afterward the whole troop
retired from the monastery.
The robber chiefs and their followers had no sooner departed, than
Chardin again repaired to the garden, and was sorrowfully prying about
the thickets where he had concealed his jewels, when a man cast his arms
about his neck, and threw him into more violent terror than ever. He
had no doubt it was a Mingrelian, who was about to cut his throat. The
next moment, however, he recognised the voice of his faithful Armenian
valet, who, in accents broken by sobs, and with eyes overflowing with
tears, exclaimed, “Ah, sir, we are ruined!” Chardin, strongly moved by
this proof of his affection, bade him restrain his tears. “But, sir,”
said he, “have you searched the place carefully?”—“So carefully,” replied
the traveller, “that I am convinced all further search would be so much
labour lost.” This did not satisfy the Armenian. He wished to be informed
exactly respecting the spot where the traveller had thrown the jewels;
the manner in which he had cast them into the thicket; and the way in
which he had sought for them. To oblige him, Chardin did what he desired,
but was so thoroughly persuaded that all further search was useless,
that he refused to remain upon the spot, and went away, overwhelmed with
grief and vexation. How long he remained in this state of stupefaction he
could not tell; he was roused from it, however, by the presence of the
Armenian, who, approaching him in the dark, for it was now night, once
more threw himself about his neck, and thrust the two packets of jewels
into his bosom.
By the advice of the monks, Chardin next morning proceeded to the
prince’s castle, to relate his griefs, and demand justice; but all he
gained by this expedition was, the thorough conviction that his highness
was as arrant a thief as his subjects, and had shared the fruits of the
robbery, which was apparently undertaken by his orders. This discovery,
however, was important; it opened his eyes to the true character of
the country; and taught him that in Mingrelia, at least, the man who
put his trust in princes was a fool. In the course of two days, to
give the finishing stroke to their misfortune, they learned that the
Turks, irritated at the insolence and rapacity of its chief, had made
an irruption into the country, were laying it waste with fire and sword
on all sides, and had already approached to within a short distance of
Sipias. At midnight, two cannon-shots from the neighbouring fortress of
Ruchs announced the approach of the enemy, and the peasants, with their
wives, children, and flocks, immediately took to flight, and before dawn
the whole population was in motion. Our traveller, whose companion,
excited and irritated by the preceding untoward events, was now ill, fled
among the rest, leaving behind him his books, papers, and mathematical
instruments, which he hoped the ignorance of both Turks and Mingrelians
would protect. His buried wealth he also left where it was, and,
considering the complexion of events, regarded as much safer than what he
carried with him.
The sight of this whole people, suddenly thrown into rapid flight, was
sufficiently melancholy. The women bore along their children in their
arms, the men carried the baggage. Some drove along their cattle before
them, while others yoked themselves like oxen to the carts in which
their furniture was loaded, and being unable long to continue their
extraordinary exertions, sunk down exhausted and dying on the road.
Here and there, along the wayside, groups of old people, or very young
children, implored the aid of those whose strength had not yet failed,
with the most heart-rending cries and groans. At another moment the
spectacle would have caused the most painful emotions, but it was now
beheld with the utmost indifference. The idea of danger having swallowed
up every other, they hurried by these miserable deserted creatures
without pity or commiseration.
The castle in which they now took refuge belonged to a chief who had been
a double renegade, having deserted Christianity for Mohammedanism, and
Mohammedanism for Christianity; notwithstanding which, he was supposed
to be a less atrocious brigand than his neighbours. He received the
fugitives politely, and assigned them for their lodgings an apartment
where they were somewhat less exposed to the weather than in the woods,
though the rain found its way in on all sides. The castle, however, was
already crowded with people, eight hundred persons, of whom the majority
were women and children, having taken refuge in it, and others still more
destitute and miserable arriving every moment.
Next day one of the missionaries returned to the monastery, for the
purpose of bringing away, if possible, such plate and provisions as
had been left behind: but he found that place in possession of the
Turks, who beat him severely, and carried away whatever was portable
in the house. The night following, a Mingrelian chief, more barbarous
and destructive than the Turks, sacked the monastery a third time, and
having no torches or flambeaux to light him in his depredations, made a
bonfire of our traveller’s books and papers, and reduced the whole to
ashes. The chief in whose castle they had taken refuge, being summoned
to surrender by the Turkish pasha, and perceiving the absurdity of
pretending to measure his strength with that of the enemy, consented
to take the oath of allegiance to the Porte, and, what was equally
important, to make a handsome present to its agent. This present was
to consist of three hundred crowns in money, and twenty young slaves,
which the wretch determined to levy from the unfortunate creatures who
had thrown themselves upon his protection, confiding in the sacred laws
of hospitality. Among Mingrelians, however, there is nothing sacred.
Every family possessing four children was compelled to give up one of
the number to be transported into Turkey as a slave; but it was found
necessary to tear away the children from the arms of their mothers, who
grasped them convulsively, pressed them to their bosoms, and yielded only
to irresistible violence. Instead of twenty children, the chief forced
away twenty-five, selling the additional number for his own profit; and
instead of three hundred crowns, he extorted five hundred. Providence,
however, compelled him and his family to devour their share of grief. The
pasha peremptorily demanded one of his sons as a hostage, and as he and
his wives beheld the youngest of their boys depart into endless captivity
for the hostage, delivered up to the Porte never to return, they had an
opportunity of tasting a sample of the bitterness they had administered
to others. Chardin, who had neither wife nor children to lose, was taxed
at twenty crowns.
Perceiving that the state of the country verged more and more every day
upon utter anarchy and confusion, our traveller came to the resolution
of departing at all hazards for Georgia, to demand its prince’s aid in
withdrawing his property from Mingrelia. His companion remained to watch
over it in his absence. Not being able to procure either guards or guides
from among the natives, for with all their misery there is no people
who fear death or danger more than the Mingrelians, he was constrained
to set out with a single domestic, who, as fate would have it, was the
most consummate scoundrel in his service. On the way to Anarghia, where
he was once more to embark on the Black Sea, he learned that the church
in which he had deposited his wealth had been sacked and stripped to the
bare walls, that the very graves had been opened, and every vestige of
property removed. Here was a new source of anguish. It was now a question
whether he was a rich or a poor man. He paused in his journey—sent off
an express to his companion—the ruins of the church were visited—and
their money found to be untouched. This circumstance, he informs us,
marvellously exalted his courage, and he proceeded with fresh vigour on
his new enterprise.
Embarking in a felucca at Anarghia, in company with several Turks and
their slaves, he sailed along the south-eastern coast of the Black Sea,
passed by the mouth of the Phasis, the site of Sebaste, and many other
spots redolent of classical fame, and in three days arrived at Gonia
in the country of the Lazii. Here the character of his valet began to
develop itself. Repairing as soon as they had landed to the custom-house,
leaving his master to manage for himself, the vagabond imparted to
the authorities his conjectures respecting the real condition of the
traveller, and thus at once awakened their vigilance and cupidity. His
effects were in consequence rigorously examined, and the dues exacted
from him, which were heavy, perhaps extortionate, no doubt enabled the
custom-house officers to reward the treachery of his servant. When
these matters had been settled, the principal officer, who, after all,
was a man of humane disposition and tolerably just principles, made
Chardin an offer of an apartment in his house, where he invited, nay,
even entreated him to pass the night; but having already suffered from
what he regarded as his rapacity, the traveller dreaded some new act of
extortion, and obstinately refused his hospitality. He very soon repented
this false step. It being nearly night, he proceeded, on quitting the
custom-house, to the inn, or rather hovel, whither his valet had directed
his effects to be conveyed after examination. Here he was sitting down,
fatigued and dejected, disgusted with dirt and stench, and listening to
the condolences of his Turkish travelling companions, when a janizary
from the lieutenant of the commandant, the chief being absent, entered
in search of his valet, with whom that important personage was desirous
of holding a conference. In another hour the presence of the traveller
himself was required; and when, in obedience to authority, he repaired
to the fort, he found both the lieutenant and his own graceless servant
drunk, and began to perceive that a plan for pillaging him had been
concerted. The lieutenant now informed him, with as much gravity as
the prodigious quantity of wine he had taken would permit, that all
ecclesiastics who passed through Gonia were accustomed to pay two
hundred ducats to his superior; and that he, therefore, as a member of
that profession, for Chardin had thought proper to pass for a Capuchin,
must deposite that sum in his hands for the commandant. It was in vain
that the traveller now denied all claim to the clerical character, and
acknowledged himself to be a merchant; merchant or priest, it was all the
same to the lieutenant; what he wanted was the two hundred ducats, which,
after much altercation, were reduced to one hundred; but this M. Chardin
was compelled to pay, or submit to the punishment of the _carcan_, a
species of portable stocks, through which the offender’s head is put
instead of his feet. The worst feature, however, of the whole affair was,
that the drunken officer took it into his head to cause the present thus
extorted to appear to be a voluntary gift; and again having recourse to
menaces, which he was prepared to execute upon the spot, he forced the
traveller to make oath on the Gospel that he bestowed the money freely,
and would disclose the real nature of the transaction to no one. This
being done, he was allowed to retire.
Next morning the custom-house officer, who, in inviting him to pass the
night in his house, had intended to protect him from this species of
robbery, furnished him with a guide, and two men to carry his luggage;
and with this escort, in addition to his hopeful valet, he departed for
Akalziké. The road at first lay through a plain, but at length began
to ascend, and pierce the defiles of the Caucasus; and as he climbed
higher and higher among the precipitous and dizzy heights of this sublime
mountain, among whose many peaks the ark is supposed to have first taken
ground after the deluge, and from whence the stream of population flowed
forth and overspread the world with a flood of life, he felt the cares,
solicitudes, and sorrows which for many months had fed, as it were, upon
his heart, take wing, and a healing and invigorating influence spread an
exquisite calm over his sensations. This singular tranquillity, which he
experienced on first reaching these lofty regions, still continued as he
advanced, notwithstanding the rain, the hail, and the snow which were
poured on him by the tempest as he passed; and in such a frame of mind he
attained the opposite side of the mountain, upon whose folding slopes he
beheld numerous villages, castles, and churches, picturesquely scattered
about, and at length descended into a broad and beautiful valley,
cultivated with the greatest care, and fertilized by the waters of the
Kur.
Arriving without accident or adventure at Akalziké, and remaining there
four days to repose himself, he departed for Georgia. The route now
presented nothing extraordinary. A castle or a ruin, picturesquely
perched upon the crest of a rocky eminence, a church, or a village,
or a forest—such were the objects which met the eye. He at length
reached the Capuchin convent in the vicinity of Gory, whence, after
mature consultation with the monks, who, for strangers, entered with
extraordinary earnestness into his views, he set out, accompanied by a
lay-brother of the order, for Tiflis, partly with the design of demanding
aid from the Prince of Georgia, and partly to obtain the advice of the
principal missionary respecting the steps he ought to take in order
to deliver his partner and property from the avaricious hands of the
Mingrelians. The opinion of the monks was, that since the Prince of
Georgia entertained rather loose notions respecting his allegiance to
the King of Persia, whose servant Chardin was to be considered, and,
like all petty potentates, was possessed by extreme cupidity and laxity
of principle, there would in all probability be as much danger in being
aided by him, as in depending on the uncertain will of fortune and
his own prudence and ingenuity; that he ought to return secretly to
Mingrelia; and that, for the greater chance of success, he should take
with him one of the brotherhood, who was deeply versed in the small
politics of those countries; and a native dependent on the monastery, who
had been a thousand times in Mingrelia.
With these able coadjutors he returned once more into the country of
Media, whence, after incredible difficulties and very considerable
danger, he succeeded in rescuing his property. On his return to Tiflis
he calculated, with the aid of his companion, the losses they had
sustained during the journey from Constantinople to Georgia, and found
that, by great good fortune, it did not exceed _one per cent._ upon the
merchandise they had succeeded in conveying safe and entire to that city.
He now tasted of that delight which springs up in the mind after dangers
escaped and difficulties overcome; and commenced the pleasing task of
studying the manners of a people among whom, however impure and depraved
might be their morals, a stranger had little to fear. The beauty of the
women, he found, was so irresistible in Georgia, and their manners so
graceful and bewitching, that it was impossible to behold them without
love; but the depravity of their morals, and the blackness and perfidy of
their souls, exceeded, if possible, the perfection of their forms, and
rendered them as odious to the mind as they were pleasing to the eye.
After remaining a short time at Tiflis, and going through the usual
routine of giving and receiving presents, &c., he departed for Armenia.
Being now accompanied by a mehmandar, or guest-guard, he proceeded
without obstacle or extortion; this officer taking upon himself the care
of adjusting matters with the custom-houses, and of providing horses,
carriage, and provisions on the way. Though in so low a latitude, the
whole face of the country was still covered with snow in March, and it
was with much difficulty that they proceeded over the narrow pathways
made by the few travellers who were compelled to traverse the country
at such a season. To guard against the reflection of the sun’s rays
from the snow, which weakened the sight, and caused a burning heat in
the face, our traveller wore a handkerchief of green or black silk tied
across the eyes, after the manner of the inhabitants, though this merely
diminished, but could not altogether prevent the evil. Whenever they met
any travellers moving in a contrary direction, they had to dispute who
should yield up the narrow path, upon which two horses could not pass
each other, and go out into the soft snow, in which the animals instantly
sunk up to their bellies; but in the end every one yielded the preference
to the mehmandar. Creeping along in this manner through the cold, they
arrived at Eryvan on the 7th of March.
Being now in a country where civilization had made some progress,
Chardin took lodgings in a caravansary, and was provided abundantly with
the necessaries of life by the bounty of the governor, who, no doubt,
expected that his civilities would be remembered when he should come
in the sequel to bargain for a portion of the traveller’s jewels. In
the East it is an established rule that the natives shall always take
advantage of a stranger, sometimes by force, at other times by cunning,
but invariably in some way or another. In Mingrelia our traveller had
to guard against force and violence; here against wheedling, deceit,
flattery, double-dealing, hypocrisy, and meanness. In the former case,
however, being weak, it was necessary to evade or succumb; but in the
present, since ingenuity was the weapon on both sides, there were more
chances of success, though it often appeared that plain honest good sense
is not always a match for practised cunning. In the intervals of business
the time was passed in parties, dinners, and visits, which at least
furnished opportunities of studying the manners of the people.
Perceiving that the time of his departure was drawing nigh, the governor
came to the point at which he had been steadily aiming all the while,
under cover of his hospitality and caresses, which were put forward as so
many stalking-horses, to enable him to bring down his game with greater
certainty. Sending for Chardin to the palace, he proceeded warily and
stealthily to business, occasionally shaking the dust of compliments and
flattery in the traveller’s eyes as he went along. He first lamented
the actual state of Persia, in which, reduced by bad government and the
malignant inclemency of the seasons to a state bordering upon famine
and anarchy, there was of course little or no demand for expensive
articles of luxury; besides, even if public affairs had been flourishing,
and the royal resources abundant, the present king had no taste for
jewelry; and that, therefore, there was no hope of disposing of costly
precious stones at the court of Ispahan. From this preliminary discourse,
which was meant to diminish in the traveller’s eyes the value of his
merchandise, though in reality the picture was correct, the governor
passed at once to the genuine object of his oration, and made an offer
to purchase a part of the jewels. His conduct on this occasion was a
masterpiece of mercantile skill, and he succeeded, by holding out the
hope of more important purchases in the sequel, in getting every thing
he really intended to buy at a very cheap rate. When his object was
gained, he closed the negotiation in the coolest manner in the world, by
returning the large quantity of jewels which he had caused to be sent
to his palace, as if he had intended to bargain for them all; and the
traveller now perceived that the wily Persian had made a dupe of him. As
all manifestations of discontent, however, would have been altogether
useless, he affected to be extremely well pleased at his bad luck, and
retired to his caravansary, cursing all the way the talents and aptitude
of the governor of Eryvan for business and cheating.
On the 8th of April he departed from the capital of Armenia, and
travelling for several days through level and fertile plains,
interspersed with churches and villages, arrived at Nacchivan, a city
formerly celebrated, and of great antiquity, but now in ruins. From hence
he proceeded, etymologizing and making researches as he moved along,
towards Tabriz, where he arrived on the 17th. At this city, then the
second in Persia in rank, riches, and population, he took up his quarters
at the Capuchin convent, where he was visited by several of the nobles of
the place, on account of his jewelry, the fame of which flew before him
on the road, and like a pioneer smoothed and laid level his passage into
Persia. In proceeding southward from Tabriz he had to traverse the plains
of Aderbijān, the ancient Media, which being covered at this season of
the year by tribes of Koords, Saraneshins, and Turcomans, all striking
their tents, and putting themselves in motion for their summer emigration
to the mountains, could not be crossed by a stranger without considerable
danger. He was therefore counselled to defer his departure for a few
days, when he would have the advantage of travelling in the company of
a Persian nobleman, whose presence would be a sufficient protection. He
adopted this advice, and in less than a week set out under the safeguard
of his noble escort, and crossed those rich and beautiful plains, which
afford the best pasturage in the world, and where, accordingly, the
ancient kings of Media kept their prodigious studs, which sometimes
consisted of fifty thousand horses. The ancients relate, that the
horses of Nysa, which must be sought for in these plains, were all
cream-coloured; but the nobleman who accompanied Chardin had never read
or heard of any part of Persia where horses of that colour were produced.
In his journey through Media he saw on the side of the road circles of
huge stones, like those of Stonehenge, and the Dolmens of Normandy and
Brittany, which, according to the traditions of the Persians, were placed
there by the Kaous, or giants, who formerly held possession of those
regions. The same superstitions, the same fables, the same wild belief in
the enormous strength and stature of past generations, prevail, we see,
throughout the world, because the desires, faculties, and passions of the
mind are everywhere the same.
It was now June, and instead of disputing with those they met on the road
the possession of a narrow snow-track, they were compelled to travel
by night to avoid the scorching heat of the sun. They usually set out
about two hours before sunset, and when day had entirely disappeared,
the stars, which in the clear blue atmosphere of Persia yield a strong
brilliant light, agreeably supplied its place, and enabled them to
proceed from caravansary to caravansary with facility. At every step
historical associations crowded upon the traveller’s mind. The dust which
was thrown up into a cloud by the hoof of his camel, and the stones
over which he stumbled in the darkness, were the dust and the wrecks of
heroes and mighty cities, crumbled by time, and whirled about by the
breath of oblivion. Cyrus and Alexander, khalifs, khans, and sultans, had
fought, conquered, or perished on those plains. Vast cities had risen,
flourished, and vanished like a dream. A few days before his arrival at
Kom he passed at a little distance the ruins of Rhe, a city scarcely less
vast in its dimensions, or less magnificent or populous than Babylon, but
now deserted, and become so unhealthy in consequence, that, according to
a Persian poet, the very angel of death retired from it on account of the
badness of the air.
On his arrival at Koms, after escaping from the storms of the Black Sea
and the Mingrelians, Chardin was nearly killed by the kick of a horse. He
escaped, however, and set out two days afterward for Kashan, traversing
fine fertile plains, covered with villages. In this city, celebrated for
its burning climate and scorpions, he merely remained one day to allow
his horses a little repose, and then departed and pushed on to Ispahan,
where he arrived on the 23d of June.
Chardin was faithful to the Capuchin friars; for whenever he passed
through or visited a city in which they possessed a convent, it was the
first place to which he repaired, and the last he quitted. On the present
occasion he took up his residence, as usual, with these monks, at whose
convent he found on his arrival a bag of letters addressed to him from
various parts of the world: before he could read the half of which, many
of his Persian and Armenian friends, whom he had known during his former
residence, and all the Europeans of the city, came to welcome him on
his return to Ispahan. From these he learned that the court, which had
undergone innumerable changes during his absence, the greater number of
those great men who had distinguished themselves, or held any offices
of trust under the late king, being either dead or in disgrace, was now
in the utmost confusion, the persons who exercised most influence in it
being a set of young noblemen without virtue, talents, or experience. And
what was still worse for Chardin, though not for Persia, it was secretly
whispered about that Sheïkh Ali Khan, formerly prime minister, but now in
disgrace, was about to be restored to favour; in which case our traveller
anticipated great losses, as this virtuous and inflexible man, whose
great talents had always been employed in the service of his country, was
an enemy to all lavish expenditure, and regarded jewels and other costly
toys as mere dross, unworthy the attention of a sovereign prince.
Chardin perceived, therefore, that he had not a moment to lose, it
being of the highest importance that his business with the king should
be transacted before Sheïkh Ali Khan should again be prime vizier;
but by whom he was to be introduced at court was the question. The
persons to whom he applied in the first instance, at the same time that
they willingly consented to use their best efforts in his favour, and
counselled him not to despair, yet gave so sombre a picture of the state
of the court, and threw out so many insinuations, indicating their belief
that the future would be still more unpropitious than the present, that
they succeeded in casting a damp over his energies, and in dissipating or
at least blighting his hopes. Nevertheless, something was to be done, and
that quickly; and he determined, that whatever might be the result, he
would at all events not fail through inattention or indolence.
While Chardin was labouring to put those springs in motion, the
harmonious action of which was to produce the fulfilment of his hopes,
Sheïkh Ali Khan suddenly entered into office. This event was brought
about in a strange manner. The king, during one of those violent fits of
intoxication to which he was liable, and during which he acted more like
a wild beast than a man, had commanded the right hand of a musician who
was playing before him to be struck off, and immediately fell asleep.
The person to whom the barbarous order was given, imagining that all
recollection of the matter would pass away with the fumes of sleep,
ventured to disobey; but the king awaking, and finding the musician,
whom he expected to find mutilated and bleeding, still touching the
instrument, became so enraged, that he gave orders for inflicting the
same punishment upon the disobedient favourite and the musician; and
finding that those around him still hesitated to execute his brutal
commands, his madness rose to so ungovernable a pitch that he would
probably have had the arms and legs of all the court cut off, had not
Sheïkh Ali Khan, who fortunately happened to be present, thrown himself
at his feet, and implored him to pardon the offenders. The tyrant, now
beginning to cool a little, replied, “You are a bold man, to expect that
I shall grant your request, while you constantly refuse to resume, at my
most earnest entreaties, the office of prime minister!”—“Sire,” replied
Ali, “I am your slave, and will do whatever your majesty shall command.”
The king was pacified, the culprits pardoned, and next morning Sheïkh Ali
Khan reassumed the government of Persia.
The event dreaded by our traveller had now arrived, and therefore the
aspect of affairs was changed. Nevertheless, not many days after this
event, he received an intimation from one of his court friends, that is,
persons purchased over by presents, that the nazir, or chief intendant
of the king’s household, having been informed of his arrival, was
desirous of seeing him, and had warmly expressed his inclination to serve
him with the shah. Chardin, who understood from what motives courtiers
usually perform services, laid but small stress upon his promises, but
still hastened to present himself at his levee, with a list of all the
articles of jewelry he had brought with him from Europe, which the nazir
immediately ordered to be sent to him for the inspection of the king. A
few days afterward he was introduced to the terrible grand vizier, Sheïkh
Ali Khan himself, who, from the mild and polished manner in which he
received our traveller, appeared extremely different from the portraits
which the courtiers and common fame had drawn of him.
His whole fortune being now at stake, and depending in a great measure
upon the disposition of the nazir and the conduct of the shah, Chardin
was unavoidably agitated by very painful and powerful feelings, when he
was suddenly summoned to repair to the intendant’s palace, where the
principal jewellers of the city, Mohammedan, Armenian, and Hindoo, had
been assembled to pronounce upon the real value of the various articles
he had offered to the king. He had not long entered before the nazir
ordered the whole of his jewels to be brought forth, those which his
majesty intended to purchase being set apart in a large golden bowl of
Chinese workmanship. Chardin, observing that notwithstanding the whole
had been purchased or made by order of the late king, not a fourth
part had been selected by his present majesty, felt as if he had been
stricken by a thunderbolt, and became pale and rooted, as it were, to the
spot. The nazir, though a selfish and rapacious man, was touched by his
appearance, and leaning his head towards him, observed, in a low voice,
“You are vexed that the king should have selected so small a portion
of your jewels. I protest to you that I have taken more pains than I
ought to induce him to purchase the whole, or at least the half of them;
but I have not been able to succeed, because the larger articles, such
as the sabre, the poniard, and the mirror, are not made in the fashion
which prevails in this country. But keep up your spirits; you will still
dispose of them, if it please God.” The traveller, who felt doubly vexed
that his chagrin had been perceived, made an effort to recover his
composure, but could not so completely succeed but that the shadow, as it
were, of his emotion still remained upon his countenance.
However, pleased or displeased, it was necessary to proceed to business.
The shah’s principal jeweller now placed before him the golden bowl
containing the articles selected by his majesty, and beginning with the
smaller pieces, asked the price of them in a whisper; and then caused
them to be estimated by the other jewellers present, beginning with
the Mohammedans, and then passing on to the Armenians and Hindoos. The
merchants of Persia, when conducting any bargain before company, never
make use of any words in stating the price to each other; they make
themselves understood with their fingers, their hands meeting under a
corner of their robe, or a thick handkerchief, so that their movements
may be concealed. To close the hand of the person with whom business is
thus transacted means _a thousand_; to take one finger of the open hand,
_a hundred_; to bend the finger in the middle, _fifty_; and so on. This
mode of bargaining is in use throughout the East, and more particularly
in India, where no other is employed.
The value of the jewels being thus estimated, the appraisers were
dismissed, and the nazir, coming to treat tête-à-tête with Chardin,
succeeded so completely in throwing a mist over his imagination, by
pretending to take a deep interest in his welfare, that he drew him into
a snare, and in the course of the negotiation, which lasted long, and was
conducted with infinite cunning on the part of the Persian, caused him to
lose a large portion of the fruits of his courage and enterprise. Other
negotiations with various individuals followed, and in the end Chardin
succeeded in disposing of the whole of his jewels.
These transactions closed with the year 1673. In the beginning of the
following, which was passed in a devotional manner among the Protestants
of Ispahan, the traveller began to feel his locomotive propensities
revive; and an ambassador from Balkh, then in the capital, happening to
pay him a visit, so wrought upon his imagination by his description of
his wild country, and gave him so many pressing invitations to accompany
him on his return, that, had it not been for the counter-persuasion of
friends, Chardin would undoubtedly have extended his travels to Tartary.
This idea being relinquished, however, he departed for the shores of the
Persian Gulf, a journey of some kind or other being necessary to keep up
the activity of both body and mind.
He accordingly departed from Ispahan in the beginning of February, all
the Europeans in the city accompanying him as far as Bagh Koolloo, where
they ate a farewell dinner together. He then proceeded on his journey,
and in eleven days arrived at the ruins of Persepolis, which he had
twice before visited, in order once more to compare his ideas with the
realities, and complete his description of this celebrated spot. These
magnificent ruins are situated in one of the finest plains in the world;
and as you enter this plain from the north through narrow gayas or
between conical hills of vast height and singular shape, you behold them
standing in front of a lofty ridge of mountains, which sweep round in the
form of a half-moon, flanking them on both sides with its mighty horns.
On two of these lofty eminences which protected the approaches to the
city, and which, when Persepolis was in all its glory, so long resisted
the fierce, impatient attacks of Alexander, the ruins of ancient forts
still subsisted when Chardin was there; but, after having travelled so
far, principally for the purpose of examining the ruins scattered around,
he found the hills too steep and lofty, and refused to ascend them!
Having occupied several days in contemplating the enormous ruins of
temples and palaces existing on the plain, our traveller descended into
what is called the Subterranean Temple; that is, a labyrinth of canals
or passages, hewn out in the solid rock, turning, winding, and crossing
each other in a thousand places, and extending to an unknown distance
beneath the bases of the mountains. The entrances and the exits of these
dismal vaults are unknown; but travellers and other curious persons
find their way in through rents made by time or by earthquakes in the
rock. Lighted candles, which burned with difficulty in the heavy, humid
air, were placed at the distance of every fifty yards, as Chardin and
his companions advanced, particularly at those points where numerous
passages met, and where, should a wrong path be taken, they might have
lost themselves for ever. Here and there they observed heaps of bones
or horns of animals; the damp trickled down the sides of the rocks; the
bottom of the passages was moist and cold; respiration grew more and more
difficult every step; they became giddy; an unaccountable horror seized
upon their minds; the attendant first, and then the traveller himself,
experienced a kind of panic terror; and fearing that, should they much
longer continue to advance, they might never be able to return, they
hastened back towards the fissures through which they had entered; and
without having discovered any thing but vaults which appeared to have no
end, they emerged into daylight, like Æneas and his companion from the
mouth of hell.
Departing from the ruins of Persepolis on the 19th of February, he
next day arrived at Shiraz, where he amused himself for three days in
contemplating the waters of the Roknebad and the bowers of Mosellay. In
proceeding from this city to Bander-Abassi, on the Persian Gulf, he had
to pass over Mount Jarron by the most difficult and dangerous road in all
Persia. At every step the travellers found themselves suspended, as it
were, over tremendous precipices, divided from the abyss by a low wall of
loose stones, which every moment seemed ready to roll of their own accord
into the depths below. The narrow road was blocked up at short intervals
by large fragments of rock, between which it was necessary to squeeze
themselves with much pains and caution. However, they passed the mountain
without accident, and on the 12th of March arrived at Bander-Abassi.
This celebrated port, from which insufferable heat and a pestilential
atmosphere banish the whole population during summer, is at all times
excessively insalubrious, all strangers who settle there dying in the
course of a few years, and the inhabitants themselves being already old
at thirty. The few persons who remain to keep guard over the city during
summer, at the risk of their lives, are relieved every ten days; during
which they suffer sufficiently from the heat, the deluges of rain, and
the black and furious tempests which plough up the waters of the gulf,
and blow with irresistible fury along the coast.
Though the eve of the season of death was drawing near, Chardin found
the inhabitants of Bander in a gay humour, feasting, drinking, and
elevating their sentiments and rejoicing their hearts with the heroic
songs of Firdoosi. Into these amusements our traveller entered with all
his heart—the time flew by rapidly—the advent of fever and death was
come—and the ship which he expected from Surat had not yet arrived.
Talents and experience are not always accompanied by prudence. Chardin
saw the whole population deserting the city; yet he lingered, detained
by the _auri sacra fames_, until far in the month of May, and until, in
fact, the seeds of a malignant fever had been sown in his constitution.
Those uneasy sensations which are generally the forerunners of sickness
and death, united with the representations of the physicians, at length
induced him to quit the place, his attendants being already ill; but he
had not proceeded many leagues before a giddiness in the head and general
debility of body informed him that he had remained somewhat too long at
Bander.
Arriving on the 24th of May at Tangnedelan, a place where there was not
a single human being to be found, he became delirious, and at last fell
into a fit from which his attendants had much difficulty in recovering
him. There happened, by great good fortune, to be a French surgeon in his
suite. This surgeon, who was an able man in his profession, not only took
all possible care of our traveller during his moments of delirium, but,
what was of infinitely greater importance, had the good sense to hurry
his departure from those deserted and fatal regions, procuring from the
neighbouring villages eight men, who carried him in a litter made with
canes and branches of trees to Lâr. As soon as they had reached this
city, Chardin sent for the governor’s physician, who, understanding that
he was the shah’s merchant, came to him immediately. Our traveller was by
this time so weak that he could scarcely describe his feelings; and, as
well as the French surgeon, began to believe that his life was near its
close. The Persian Esculapius, however, who discovered the nature of the
disorder at a glance, assured him it was a mere trifle; that he needed
by no means be uneasy; and that, in fact, he would, with God’s blessing,
restore him to health that very day, nay, in a very few hours.
This dashing mode of dealing with disorders produced an excellent effect
upon the traveller’s mind. The hakīm seemed to hold Death by the beard,
to keep him in his toils, to curb him, or let him have his way at
pleasure. Chardin’s whole frame trembled with joy. He took the physician
by the hand, squeezed it as well as his strength would permit, and
looked up in his face as he would have looked upon his guardian-angel.
The hakīm, to whom these things were no novelties, proceeded, without
question or remark, to prescribe for his patient; and having done this,
he was about to retire, when the traveller cried out, “Sir, I am consumed
with heat!”—“I know that very well,” replied the hakīm; “but you shall
be cooled presently!” and with the word both he and his apothecary
disappeared.
About nine o’clock the young apothecary returned, bringing with him
a basketful of drugs, enough, to all appearance, to kill or cure a
regiment of patients. “For whom,” inquired Chardin, “are all those
medicines?”—“For you,” replied the young man; “these are what the hakīm
has ordered you to take this morning, and you must swallow them as
quickly as possible.” Fevers make men docile. The traveller immediately
began to do as he was commanded; but when he came to one of the large
bottles, his “gorge,” as Shakspeare phrases it, began to rise at it, and
he observed that it would be impossible to swallow that at a draught.
“Never mind,” said the young man, “you can take it at several draughts.”
Obedience followed, and the basketful of physic disappeared. “You will
presently,” observed the apothecary, “experience the most furious thirst;
and I would willingly give you ices to take, but there is neither ice nor
snow in the city except at the governor’s.” As his thirst would not allow
him to be punctilious, Chardin at once applied to the governor; and
succeeding in his enterprise, quenched his burning thirst with the most
delicious drinks in the world.
To render him as cool as possible his bed was spread upon the floor in
an open parlour, and so frequently sprinkled with water that the room
might almost be said to be flooded; but the fever still continuing, the
bed was exchanged for a mat, upon which he was extended in his shirt, and
fanned by two men. The disorder being still unsubdued, the patient was
placed upon a chair, where cold water was poured over him in profusion,
while the French surgeon, who was constantly by his side, and could not
restrain his indignation at seeing the ordinary rules of his practice
thus set at naught, exclaimed, “They are killing you, sir! Depend upon
it, that it is by killing you the hakīm means to remove your fever!”
The traveller, however, maintained his confidence in the Persian, and
had very soon the satisfaction of being informed that the fever had
already abated, and of perceiving that, instead of killing, the hakīm had
actually cured him. In one word, the disorder departed more rapidly than
it had come on, and in a few days he was enabled to continue his journey.
Remaining quietly at Ispahan during the space of a whole year after this
unfortunate excursion, he then departed from the capital for the court,
which still lingered at Casbin, in company with Mohammed Hussein Beg, son
of the governor of the island of Bahreint. This young man was conducting
from his father to the king a present, consisting of two wild bulls, with
long, black, sharp horns, an ostrich, and a number of rich Indian stuffs;
and being by no means a strict Mussulman, drinking wine and eating
heartily of a good dinner, whether cooked by Mohammedan or Christian, was
a very excellent travelling companion. On his arrival at Casbin, Chardin,
who was now extremely well known to all the grandees of the kingdom, was
agreeably and hospitably received by the courtiers, particularly by the
wife of the grand pontiff, who was the king’s aunt. This lady, in order
to manifest the friendship she entertained for him, though in consequence
of the peculiar manners of the country their souls only had met, made him
a present of eight chests of dried sweetmeats, scented with amber and the
richest perfumes of the East. Her husband was no less distinguished by
his friendship for our traveller, who nowhere in Persia experienced more
genuine kindness or generosity than from this noble family.
During this visit to Casbin, Chardin had the honour, as it is vulgarly
termed, of presenting two of his countrymen to the shah; and so powerful
is the force of habit and prejudice, that this able, learned, and
virtuous man really imagined it an honour to approach and converse
familiarly with an opium-eating, cruel, and unprincipled sot, merely
because he wore a tiara and could sport with the destinies of a great
empire! The nazir, in introducing the traveller, observed, “Sire, this
is Chardin, your merchant.” To which the shah replied, with a smile, “He
is a very dear merchant.”—“Your majesty is right,” added the nazir; “he
is a politic man; he has overreached the whole court.” This the minister
uttered with a smile; and he had a right to smile, says Chardin, for he
took especial care that quite the contrary should happen.
Chardin soon after this took his final leave of the court of Persia, and
returned by way of Ispahan to Bander-Abassi, whence he purposed sailing
by an English ship for Surat. The fear of falling into the hands of the
Dutch, then at war with France, prevented him, however, from putting
his design into execution; and relinquishing the idea of again visiting
Hindostan, he returned to Europe in 1677. Of the latter part of his life
few particulars are known. Prevented by religious considerations from
residing in his own country, where freedom of conscience was not to be
enjoyed, he selected England for his home, where, in all probability, he
became acquainted with many of the illustrious men who shed a glory over
that epoch of our history. It was in London, also, that he first met with
the lady whom he immediately afterward made his wife. Like himself, she
was a native of France and a Protestant, forced into banishment by the
apprehension of religious persecution. On the very day of his marriage
Chardin received the honour of knighthood from the hand of the gay and
profligate Charles II.
Having now recovered from the fever of travelling, the beautiful
Rouennaise in all probability aiding in the cure, Chardin devoted his
leisure to the composition of his “Travels’ History,” of which the first
volume appeared in London in 1686. While he was employed in preparing
the remainder of his works for the press, he was appointed the king’s
minister plenipotentiary or ambassador to the States of Holland, being at
the same time intrusted with the management of the East India Company’s
affairs in that country. His public duties, however, which could not
entirely occupy his mind, by no means prevented, though they considerably
delayed, the publication of the remainder of his travels; the whole of
which appeared, both in quarto and duodecimo, in 1711. Shortly after this
he returned to England, where he died in the neighbourhood of London,
1713, in the sixty-ninth year of his age.
The reputation of Chardin, which even before his death extended
throughout Europe and shed a lustre over his old age, is still on the
increase, and must be as durable as literature and civilization; his
merit not consisting in splendour of description or in erudite research,
though in these he is by no means deficient, but in that singular
sagacity which enabled him to penetrate into the heart and characters
of men, and to descend with almost unerring precision to the roots of
institutions and manners. No European seems to have comprehended the
Persians so completely; and no one has hitherto described them so well.
Religion, government, morals, manners, costume—every thing in which one
nation can differ from another—Chardin had studied in that bold and
original manner which characterizes the efforts of genius. His style,
though careless, and sometimes quaint, is not destitute of that _naïveté_
and ease which result from much experience and the consciousness of
intellectual power; and if occasionally it appear heavy and cumbrous in
its march, it more frequently quickens its movements, and hurries along
with natural gracefulness and facility. Without appearing desirous of
introducing himself to the reader further than the necessities of the
case require, he allows us to take so many glimpses of his character
and opinions, that by the time we arrive at the termination of his
travels we seem to be perfectly acquainted with both; and unless all
these indications be fallacious, so much talent, probity, and elegance
of manners has seldom been possessed by any traveller. Marco Polo was
gifted with a more exalted enthusiasm, and acquired a more extensive
acquaintance with the material phenomena of nature; Pietro della Valle
amuses the reader by wilder and more romantic adventures; Bernier is
more concise and severe; Volney more rigidly philosophical; but for
good sense, acuteness of observation, suavity of manner, and scrupulous
adherence to truth, no traveller, whether ancient or modern, is superior
to Chardin.