Title: The Lives of Celebrated Travellers, Vol. III (of 3)
Author: St. John, James Augustus
Language: English
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TRAVELLERS, VOL. III (OF 3) ***



 _Harper’s Stereotype Edition._

 THE
 LIVES
 OF
 CELEBRATED TRAVELLERS.

 BY
 JAMES AUGUSTUS ST. JOHN.

    Wand’ring from clime to clime, observant stray’d,
    Their manners noted and their states survey’d.
                                           Pope’s Homer.

 IN THREE VOLUMES.
 VOL. III.

 NEW-YORK:

 PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY J. & J. HARPER,
 NO. 82 CLIFF-STREET,

 AND SOLD BY THE PRINCIPAL BOOKSELLERS THROUGHOUT
 THE UNITED STATES.

 1832.



CONTENTS.


MUNGO PARK.

Born 1771.--Died 1806.

 Born at Fowlshiels, near Selkirk--Receives a respectable
 education--Bound apprentice to a surgeon--Finishes his education
 at Edinburgh--Removes to London--Becomes known to Sir Joseph
 Banks--Appointed surgeon to the Worcester, East Indiaman--Engaged
 by the African Association to ascertain the course of the
 Niger--Sails from England--Arrives at Jillifica--Unknown species
 of fish--Alligators--Hippopotami--Pisania--Dr. Laidley--Studies
 the Mandingo language--Attacked by fever and delirium--Horrors
 of the rainy season in Africa--Wild beasts--Departs from
 Pisania--Surrounded by a body of the natives--Visits the King of
 Woolli--Obtains a guide--Elephant-hunters--Presents his coat to
 the chief of Fatteconda--Major Houghton--Limited territories of
 the African kings--Suggestion by which Africa may be effectually
 explored--Folly of despatching a solitary traveller--A night
 journey--Solitary forest--Dangers from wild beasts--Hospitable
 Mohammedan--Festival in honour of his arrival--Negro
 dances--Joag--Robbed of half his merchandise--Humanity of
 a female slave--Kasson--Robbed a second time--Affectionate
 meeting between the blacksmith and his relations--Maternal
 affection--Curiosity excited by the presence of a white
 man--Kooniakary--Audience with the king--Advised to retrace his
 footsteps--Romantic scenery--Cheapness of provisions--Superstition
 of his Mohammedan guide--Terrifies two negro horsemen--Is
 mistaken for a demon--Kaarta--Buglehorns formed of elephants’
 teeth--Receives permission to depart--Jarra--Visits Ali the
 King of Ludamar--Despatches his journal to the Gambia--Is
 robbed--Barbarous treatment of Park by Ali and his Moorish
 countrymen--Placed in a hut with a wild boar--Is chosen royal
 barber--Pillaged of the remainder of his property--Superstitious
 curiosity--Is threatened with death or mutilation--Tortured
 for Moorish amusement--Robbed of his slave-boy--Affecting
 scene--Attempts to escape--Departs in the night--Stopped
 and robbed of his cloak--Nearly perishes from hunger and
 thirst--Storm in the desert--Multitude of frogs--Compelled to
 wander through the woods--Subsists on wild berries--Enters
 the kingdom of Bambarra--Mistaken for a Moor--Destitute
 condition--Comes within sight of the Niger--Joy at effecting
 the object of his mission--Sego--Refused entrance into the
 city--Humanity of a woman--Receives a present from the king of
 Bambarra--Sansanding--Hospitable reception--Is requested to write
 a saphie, or charm--Camelopard--Encounters a lion--Moodiboo--Loses
 his horse--Reaches Silla--Exhausted with fatigue and
 sickness--Unable to proceed--Resolves to return--Song--Denied
 entrance into the village--In danger of being devoured by
 lions--Stripped and robbed by a band of peasants--Overwhelmed
 with grief and terror--Derives consolation from religious
 reflections--Sibidooloo--Regains his horse and other
 property--Unites himself to a slave caravan--Obtains a common
 prayer-book--Arrives at Pisania--Returns to England--Singular
 interview with his brother-in-law--Received with distinguished
 honour by the African Association--Publishes his travels--Returns
 to Scotland--Marries--Practises as a surgeon at Peebles--Becomes
 disgusted with an obscure life--Appointed chief conductor of a
 second expedition into the interior of Africa, under the sanction
 of the British government--Sails from Portsmouth--Arrives at
 Pisanio--Sets out with the party for the interior--Dreadfully
 stung by a swarm of bees--The journey nearly put an end to by this
 event--Rainy season--The whole party sick--Gold-pits--Soldiers
 become delirious--Numbers die, or are left behind--Attacked
 by wild beasts--Cut off by the natives--Guide attacked and
 wounded by a crocodile--Remarkable presence of mind--Robbed by
 two African princes--Encounters three lions--Arrives on the
 banks of the Niger--Opens a bazaar--Death of Mr. Scott--Mission
 reduced to a very small number--Death of Mr. Anderson--Embarks
 on the Niger--Conclusion of his journal--Isaaco’s account of his
 death--Captain Clapperton’s corroboration--Character--Sir Walter
 Scott                                                                13


PETER SIMON PALLAS.

Born 1741.--Died 1811.

 Born at Berlin--Educated as a surgeon--Studies natural
 history--Visits Holland--England--Publishes his first
 great work--Accepts an appointment in the Academy of
 St. Petersburg--Catherine II.--Engages in the Russian
 enterprise for observing the transit of Venus--Sets
 out from St. Petersburg--Gadflies--River Jemlia--Pearl
 muscles--Arrives at Moscow--Marine sponges used for painting
 the cheeks--Rhubarb--Vlodimir--Cherry-orchards--Tartar
 princes--Goitres--Extreme filthiness of the Russians--Severe
 cold--Mules between the goat and sheep--Sulphurous
 springs--Environs of Sumara--Travels on sledges--Skeletons
 of elephants--Tizran--Excessive heat--Village unroofed
 by a hurricane--River Volga--Ancient tombs--Gigantic
 bones--Kalmuc camp--Archery--Botanical excursions--Marsh
 flies--Kirghees--Orenburg--Golden eagles--Falconry--Value
 of a trained hawk--Salt-mines--Chinese caravan--Jasper
 mountains--Jasper tombs--Ruins of Sarai--Embarks upon the Caspian
 Sea--Arranges his Journal--Floods--Hurricanes--Bottomless
 pit--Furious wild dogs--Beehives--Method of protecting the hives
 from the bears--Volcano--Burning forest--Cotton produced from the
 poplar-tree--Loses himself in a forest--Curious method of passing
 a river--Asbestos mountain--The mind abhors an uninterrupted
 calm--Insipid method of travelling--Method of preparing
 Russia leather in Siberia--Cheliabinsk--Departs for Eastern
 Siberia--Extensive conflagration--Steppe of Ischimi--Aquatic
 game--White herons--Arrives at Omsk--Refused permission to
 inspect the Siberian maps there--Banks of the Irtish--Continual
 storms--Method of preserving furs from the moth--Encounters an
 enormous wolf--Ancient mines--Attacked by dysentery--Prodigious
 tomb--Enormous lump of solid gold--Visits the Altaïc
 mountains--Sublime scenery--Black sparrows--Crosses Lake Baikal
 in a sledge--Rugged and sublime scenery--Tremendous storm--Hunting
 the sea-dog--Mongolia--Borders of China--His health declines--Blue
 crow--Locusts--Tartar hordes--Intense cold--Prepares for
 his return to Petersburg--Execrable manner of peopling
 Siberia--Perilous adventure--Wild horses--Ancient shores of the
 Caspian--Repairs to Moscow--Arrives at Petersburg--Premature
 old age--Publishes his travels, &c.--M. Cuvier--Theory of the
 earth--Traverses the southern provinces of Russia--Dies at
 Berlin--Character                                                    65


CARSTEN NIEBUHR.

Born 1733.--Died 1815.

 Born in the province of Friesland--Studies music--Intends
 practising as a land-surveyor--Celebrated Reiske--Engaged
 to accompany a scientific expedition into Arabia--Goes to
 Copenhagen--Appointed lieutenant of engineers--Liberality
 of the Danish Minister--Proceeds to Marseilles--White
 rainbow--Transit of Venus--Malta--Serpents--Maltese
 knights--Efforts to convert Niebuhr to Catholicism--Great
 Church of St. John--Prodigious wealth--Hospital--Sails
 to Smyrna--Tenedos--Attacked by dysentery--Proceeds to
 Constantinople--Assumes the oriental costume--Sails for
 Egypt--Rhodes--Turkish eating-house--Wine-drinkers--Female
 slaves--Amusing story--Plague--Egypt--Pompey’s pillar--Turkish
 merchant and the telescope--Laughable anecdote--Mr. Forskaal
 stripped of his breeches--Rosetta--Arrives at Cairo--The
 river Nile--Pirates--Bruce the traveller--Curious anecdote
 of robbers--The Virgin on horseback--Churches strewed
 with crutches--Arrives at Damietta--Boats loaded with
 beehives--Europeans detested at Damietta--Encountered
 by a young sheïkh--Visits the Pyramids--Observations on
 them--Sets out for Suez--Advantages of travelling on
 dromedaries--Trade of Suez--Rose of Jericho--Mountain of
 Inscriptions--Arab women--Is refused admission into the
 monastery of St. Catherine--Deserted by his guides--Ascends
 a portion of Mount Sinai--Voyage from Suez to Jidda--Black
 eunuch--Elim--Is protected by some Janizaries--Emerald
 mountains--Forskaal taken for a physician--Laughable
 story--Ship in danger of being set on fire--Indiscreet
 curiosity--Jidda--Custom-house extortions--Forbidden to approach
 the Mecca gate--Curious method of catching wild ducks--Sails
 for Loheia--Yemen--Bedouins--Politeness of the emir--Hospitable
 treatment--Curiosity of the Arabs--Dr. Cramer requested to
 prescribe for the emir’s horse--Amusing anecdote of two young
 Arabs--Great coffee emporium of Beit el-Fakih--Description of
 the coffee plantations--Danger of travelling by day--Niebuhr
 is mistaken for an Arab--Is supposed to be searching for
 gold--Balm of Mecca--Is seized with illness--Mokha--Ludicrous
 anecdote--Death of Von Haven--Of Forskaal--Difficulty of obtaining
 a place of burial--Polite reception at Sana--Obtains an audience
 of the imam--Sails for India--Arrives at Bombay--Death of
 Baurenfeind--Forwards his manuscripts to Copenhagen--Sails for
 the Persian gulf--Phosphoric fires--Troop of dolphins--History
 of Nadir Shah--Sir W. Jones--Visits Shiraz--Superstition
 respecting manner of killing a fowl--Visits a Turkoman
 camp--Anecdote--Arrives at Shiraz--Hospitable reception by
 an Englishman--Palace--Persepolis--Arab sheïkh--Dialogue
 with the moollah of a mosque respecting marriage--Ruins of
 Babylon--Proceeds with a Jewish caravan--Turkish firman--Devil
 worshippers--Cowardice of his companions--Adventure with an
 Arab sheïkh--Dr. Patrick Russel--Oriental Christians--Visits
 Palestine--Mount Taurus--Baber Khan--Returns to Europe--Arrives
 at Copenhagen--Publishes his various works--Marries--Quits the
 capital--Appointed secretary of the district at Meldorf--Anecdotes
 and character of Niebuhr by his son--Illiberality towards
 Bruce--Account of Niebuhr’s latter days--Illness--Death              99


CHOISEUL-GOUFFIER.

Born 1752.--Died 1817.

 Incompleteness of the biography of celebrated men--Born at Paris
 of an illustrious family--His passion for the fine arts--Taste
 for literature--Falls in love--Marries--Adopts the profession
 of arms--Obtains the rank of colonel--Sails for Greece--His
 enthusiasm for antiquity--Visits the Grecian Isles--Occupies
 himself in drawing--Grotto of Antiparos--Opinions respecting
 its construction--Proceeds to Lemnos, Rhodes, &c.--Ruins of
 Telmissus--River Mæander, Ephesus, Smyrna, and Troy--Homer--Trojan
 territories--Rivers Simois and Scamander--Remarkable spots in
 the neighbourhood of Troy--Tombs of Ilus and Patroclus--Camp of
 the Greeks--Returns to France--Arranges the materials of his
 travels--Flattering reception--Patriotism--Modern Greeks--Elected
 member of the French Academy--Celebrated discourse on the death
 of D’Alembert--Delille’s poem entitled “Imagination”--Extract
 applied to Choiseul-Gouffier--Appointed ambassador to the
 Ottoman Porte--Acquires the confidence of Halil Pasha, and of
 Prince Mauro Cordato--Attempts to introduce civilization among
 the Turks--Turkish ship-of-war--Obtains the release of the
 Russian ambassador--Prevents the imprisonment of the Austrian
 internuncio--Protects the Russian and Austrian prisoners--Revisits
 the Troad--Despatches artists to Syria and Egypt--Appointed
 ambassador to the court of London--Anecdote of the Count de
 Cobentzel--Emperor Paul of Russia--Returns to France--Rose harvest
 of Adrianople--Personal existence of Homer--Is seized with an
 apoplectic fit--Dies                                                154


JOHN LEWIS BURCKHARDT.

Born 1784.--Died 1817.

 Descended from an eminent family at Basle--Born at
 Lausanne--Aversion to republican principles--Detestation
 of the French--Enters as a student at Leipzig--Removes to
 Göttingen--Arrives in London--African Association--His offers
 are accepted--Studies Arabic--Allows his beard to grow--Assumes
 the oriental dress--Accustoms himself to endure hardships--Sails
 from Cowes--Arrives at Malta--Dr. Sectzen--Assumes the
 character of an Indian Mohammedan merchant--Reaches the coast
 of Syria--Departs for Aleppo--Laughable anecdote--Aga’s
 dislike to beer and potatoes--Suspected of being a Frank in
 disguise--Is pulled by the beard and otherwise insulted--Arrives
 at Aleppo--Puts off his Mohammedan dress--Is seized with fever
 from the bites of vermin--Attempts a translation of Robinson
 Crusoe into Arabic--Sets out in company with an Arab sheïkh for
 Palmyra--Robbed on the road--Damascus--Arab hospitality--Beautiful
 scenery--Baalbec and Libanus--Cedars--The Druses--Haurān the
 patrimony of Abraham--Vestiges of ancient cities--Places
 himself under the protection of an Arab sheïkh--Enters the
 desert--Is stripped to the skin, and left exposed to the rays
 of the sun--Arab lady attempts to steal his shirt--Returns to
 Damascus--Dead Sea--Joins a caravan--Philadelphia--Treachery of
 the Sheïkh of Kerek--Valley of Ghor--Ruins of Petra--Arrives
 at Cairo--Journey into Nubia--Mameluke chiefs--Deadly
 feud--Hospitality of the Nubians--Romantic scenery--Curious mode
 of extorting presents--Admirable custom of placing water-jars
 by the road-side--Drunken savages--Palm wine--Contempt for
 Mohammed Ali--Descends the Nile--Colossal statues--Anecdote
 of an Arab--Assouan--Cheapness of provisions--March of a
 caravan through the desert--Is treated with great contempt
 by his companions--Bruce--Burckhardt’s insolent skepticism
 respecting that eminent traveller--Extraordinary sufferings--Wady
 el Nabeh--Scarcity of water--Nubian desert--Lakes of
 mirage--Is near perishing from thirst--Camels despatched to
 the Nile--Insolence and extortion--Extraordinary method of
 discovering a stolen lamb--Arrives at Damar--Adventure with
 a Faky--Numerous crocodiles--Romantic scenery--Tremendous
 effects of a desert storm--Taka--Enormous lions--Effects of the
 sultan’s firman on his persecutors--Returns to Jidda--Attacked
 by fever--Delicious fruit--Sells his slave--Sets out for the
 interior of the Hejah--Arrives at Mecca--Picturesque scenery--Ras
 el Kora--Tayef--Observations on Burckhardt’s beard--Suspected
 of being an English spy--Affects to be hurt by the pasha’s
 suspicions--Animated description of the Hadj, or pilgrimage
 to Mecca--Sets out for Medina--Is attacked by an intermittent
 fever--Melancholy condition--Consoles himself by reading
 Milton--Tomb of Mohammed--Sets out for Yembo--Plague--Pursues
 his journey to Cairo--Composes his journal--Excursion to Mount
 Sinai--Furnishes Belzoni with money for removing the head of
 Memnon--Is attacked with dysentery--Dies at Cairo--Character        168


VOLNEY.

Born 1757.--Died 1820.

 Born at Craon in Anjou--His name first changed by his
 father, and afterward by himself--Studies the sciences with
 ardour--Is bequeathed a small sum of money--Determines to
 spend it in travelling--Proceeds to Marseilles--Embarks
 for Egypt--Alexandria--Cairo--Studies the Arabic--Defends
 Herodotus--Proceeds to Syria--Describes Mount Lebanon--Resides
 in an Arabian convent--Studies the Arabic--Visits the tribe
 of Bedouins--Is invited to reside among them--Describes the
 Druzes--Returns to France--Publishes his travels--Acquires a
 great reputation--Is compared with Herodotus--Is presented with a
 gold medal by the Empress Catherine--Publishes his considerations
 on the war between the Turks and Russians--Meditates the
 improvement of agriculture--Is elected a member of the Constituent
 Assembly--Connexion with Cabanis and Mirabeau--Anecdote--Returns
 Catherine her medal, and is abused by Grimm--Visits
 Corsica--Publishes the “Law of Nature”--Character of that
 work--Is imprisoned as a royalist--Travels in America--Well
 received by Washington--Dr. Priestley--Returns to France--Refuses
 to share the honours of Napoleon--Marries--Dies                     219


EDWARD DANIEL CLARKE.

Born 1769.--Died 1822.

 Born in Sussex--Is an idle student--Saves the life of his
 brother--Studies at Cambridge--Loses his father--Proceeds
 slowly with his studies--Fond of miscellaneous reading--Quits
 the university--Becomes a private tutor--Makes the tour
 of England--Publishes an account of it--Travels with Lord
 Berwick--Passes the Alps--Italy--Naples--Eruption of Mount
 Vesuvius--Is in danger of perishing among the lava--Engages to
 travel in Egypt--Returns to England--Is disappointed--Publishes a
 periodical work--Is again a private tutor--Engages to travel with
 Mr. Cripps--Departs from England--Sweden--Norway--Lapland--Gulf
 of Finland--St. Petersburg--Picture of the Russians and their
 emperor--Moscow--The Crimea--Professor Pallas--Constantinople--The
 Plain of Troy--Aboukir--Palestine--Egypt--The
 Pyramids--Antiquities taken from the French--Isles of
 Greece--Athens--Mount Parnassus--Returns to England--Created
 LL.D.--Takes orders--Marries--Sells his MSS. and coins--Enjoys
 pluralities--Sells the copyright of his travels--Lectures on
 mineralogy--Appointed professor--Studies with enthusiasm--Falls
 ill--Is carried to London--Dies                                     238


FRANCOIS LE VAILLANT.

Born 1753.--Died 1824.

 Peculiar excellence of Le Vaillant’s style--Born in Dutch
 Guyana--Early pursuits--Is brought to Europe--Studies--Conceives
 the idea of travelling--Repairs to Holland--Embarks for
 the Cape of Good Hope--Arrive--Dutch hospitality--Cape
 Town--Hurricane--Character of the colonists--Admiration of the
 English, and detestation of the French--Saldanha Bay--Mutton
 Island--Gazelle and panther-hunting--Harpooning a whale--The
 Dane’s grave--Prodigious clouds of birds--Blowing-up of a
 ship-of-war--Loss of Le Vaillant’s papers, collections, and
 travelling-chest--Melancholy--Meets with a friend--Recommences
 his collections--Prepares for a journey into the
 interior--His wagons, merchandise, and arms--Choice of
 travelling companions--Hottentot followers--Departs from
 Cape Town--Sweets of liberty--Magnificent scenery--Vast
 herds of antelopes--Curious species of tortoise--Augments
 his followers--Arrives on the Dove’s River--Pleasant mode
 of spending his time--African story-teller--Abundance of
 game--Seashore--Beautiful district--Fairy-land--Spenser--Gardens
 of Adonis--Shoots a touraco--Pursues it through the woods--Falls
 into an elephant-snare--Danger and alarm--Escapes--Torrents
 of Africa--Verdant palace--Proceeds to the Black
 River--Accident--Is attacked by illness--Oppressed by
 melancholy--Recovers--Discovers the footmarks of elephants--Sets
 out in chase of them--Shoots an elephant--Pursues the herd--Is
 in imminent danger--Escapes--Exquisite flavour of an elephant’s
 foot--Falls in with a tribe of wild Hottentots--Manners and
 opinions--Approaches the country of the Kaffers--Terrors of
 his followers--Despatches messengers into Kaffer-land--Fury
 of an African storm--Wild beasts--Meets with a new tribe of
 Hottentots--Exchange of presents--Enamoured of a Hottentot
 girl--Return of his messengers, accompanied by Kaffers--Dutch
 spies in the camp--Alarm of the Kaffers--Their departure--Prepares
 to enter Kaffraria--His people refuse to proceed--Selects
 a small number of the bravest of his Hottentots for the
 expedition--Quits his camp--Enters Kaffraria--Solitude and
 desertion of the country--Returns--Contemplates his return to
 the Cape--Enormous herds of antelopes--Sublime scenery of the
 Sneuw Bergen--The Bushmen--Great scarcity of water--Reaches
 the Cape--Reposes--Unhappy opinion--Projects a second
 journey--Preparations--Departure--Nests of the white ant--Dreadful
 scarcity of water--Discovers a well in the desert--Elephant’s
 River--African harpies--Is near perishing in the Elephant’s
 River--Abandons his chariots in the desert--Forerunners of
 a tempest--Cloud-worshippers--A storm--Quenches his burning
 thirst--Visits a Hottentot horde--Hospitality--Is overtaken
 by a Dutchman, who intoxicates his followers--Terrible
 accident--Horrors of the savage life--Proceeds on his
 journey--Beholds a giraffe, and kills one--Presence of women in
 the camp--Arrives on the frontiers of the Hoozwana country--New
 terrors of his followers--Solitude of the desert--Discovers
 a horde of Hoozwanas--Obtains their friendship--Character
 of these wild people--They reconduct him to his camp on the
 Gariep--Accident--Oxen stolen by the Bushmen--Follows them
 to their kraal--Battle--Recovers his cattle, and returns
 to the camp--Befriends a miserable white family--Is on the
 point of death--Recovers--Returns to the Cape--And then to
 Europe--Publishes his travels--Dies                                 262


BELZONI.

 Born at Padua--Is designed for the monastic life--Studies at
 Rome--Hydraulics--Invasion of Italy by the French--Alters his plan
 of life--Departs from Rome--Arrives in England--Marries--Remains
 nine years in Great Britain--Travels through the south of
 Europe--Malta--Arrives in Egypt--Enters into the service of
 the pasha--Constructs an hydraulic machine--View from the
 Pyramids--Is near being murdered by a soldier--Rebellion of
 the janizaries--Quits the service of the pasha--Undertakes
 the removal of the Memnon’s head--Ascends the Nile--Arrives
 at Thebes--Magnificence of the ruins--Establishes himself
 in the Memnonium--Removes the head to the Nile--Visits the
 Necropolis at Gournon--Loses himself in the sepulchres--Horrors
 of the tombs--Proceeds to Assouan--His boat attacked on the
 Nile--Reaches Deir--Temple of Ipsambul--Ignorance of the
 Nubians--Use of money--Returns to Thebes--Embarks the head of
 Memnon--Antiquarians--Is shot at in the ruins of Thebes--Descends
 the Nile to Rosetta--Mr. Briggs--Returns to Cairo, and thence
 again to Thebes--Mummy-pits--Decay of the mummies--Proceeds to
 Ipsambul--Opens the temple--Sepulchres of the kings--Alabaster
 sarcophagus--Visits the emerald mines on the Red Sea--Returns
 to Cairo--Visits the Oasis of Jupiter Ammon--Returns to
 England--Publishes his travels--Proceeds again to Africa--Dies      327


DOMINIQUE VIVANT DENON.

Born 1754.--Died 1825.

 Born at Burgundy--Becomes a king’s page--Secretary to the
 Neapolitan Embassy--His character and physiognomy--Studies the
 art of design--Adopts the principles of the revolution--Embarks
 with Napoleon for Egypt--Arrives at Alexandria--Impressions on
 entering a new city--Rosetta--Pursued by the Arabs--Desaix--Visits
 the Pyramids--Population of Cairo--Revolt against the
 French--Danger of Denon--Massacre of four _savans_--Dissects the
 mummy of Ibis--Serpent-charmers--Departs for Upper Egypt--Murad
 Bey--Battle with the Mamelukes--Horrible anecdote--Anecdote of a
 youthful robber--A shower of rain--Ruins of Oxyrinchus--Gloomy
 opinions--Ruins of Hermopolis--Dangerous mode of travelling--Ruins
 of Denderah--Anger of General Desaix--Anecdote of a French
 officer--Comes in sight of the ruins of Thebes--The whole army
 halt and clap their hands--Statues of Ossymandyas--Island
 of Phile--Khamsyn wind--Journey to Cosseir--Returns to the
 Nile--Sails for France--Is made superintendent of museums by
 Napoleon--Directs the casting of the triumphal column in the Place
 Vendôme--Dies                                                       345


REGINALD HEBER.

Born 1783.--Died 1826.

 Born at Malpas, in the county of Chester--Early piety--Studies
 at Oxford--Poem of “Palestine”--Recites his work in
 public--Becomes a volunteer--Loses his father--Travels in Northern
 Europe--Sweden--Norway--Russia--Ladies of Moscow--Traverses the
 Ukraine--Romantic view at Nakitchivan--Tcherkask--Inhabitants
 of the banks of the Kuban--Traverses the Crimea--Returns to
 England--Obtains the living of Hodnet--Purity and romance of his
 opinions--Marries--Excellence as a parish priest--Contributes
 to the Quarterly Review--Publishes his poems--Observance
 of Sunday--Delivers the Bampton Lectures--Loses his only
 child--Illness--Appointed Bishop of Calcutta--Friendship
 of the honourable Watkins Williams Wynn--Is exceedingly
 esteemed and regretted--Sails with his family for India--Pious
 conduct on board--Arrives in the Ganges--Colour of the
 Hindoos--Reaches Calcutta--Laborious situation--Departs from
 Calcutta on his visitation to the Upper Provinces--Scenery
 of Bengal--Arrives at Dacca--Visits the Nawâb--Loses his
 chaplain--Continues his voyage up the Ganges--Sultan Sujah’s
 palace--Rosefields of Ghazeepoor--Attar of roses--Reaches
 Benares--Lucknow--First view of the Himalaya--Contrasted with
 view of Mont Blanc--Approaches the Himalaya--Almorah--Returns
 towards the south--Delhi--Is presented to the emperor--Agra--The
 Taj-mahal--Sir David Ochterlony--Traverses Rajpootana--Bombay--Mr.
 Elphinstone--Ceylon--Calcutta--Madras--Death                        356



THE LIVES OF CELEBRATED TRAVELLERS.



MUNGO PARK.

Born 1771.--Died 1806.


This enterprising and distinguished traveller was born on the 10th
of September, 1771, at Fowlshiels, a farm occupied by his father on
the banks of the Yarrow, near Selkirk. In common with the greater
number of the sons of Scottish yeomen, Mungo Park, notwithstanding
that the number of his brothers and sisters amounted to no less
than thirteen, received a respectable education, and at the age of
fifteen was bound apprentice to a surgeon at Selkirk. At the close
of this apprenticeship, in 1789, Park continued his medical studies
at the university of Edinburgh, where, though nothing remarkable is
recorded of him, he seems to have applied with great assiduity to his
professional studies. His summer vacations, during one of which he made
a tour to the Highlands, were devoted to botany.

Having completed his education, Park removed to London in search of
professional employment. Here, through the kindness of Mr. Dickson,
his brother-in-law, he had the good fortune to become known to Sir
Joseph Banks, to whom so many other distinguished travellers have been
indebted; and through whose recommendation he was appointed surgeon
to the Worcester East Indiaman. In this capacity he made a voyage to
Bencoolen, in Sumatra, the only fruits of which was a paper containing
descriptions of eight new fishes from Sumatra, published in the third
volume of the _Linnæan Transactions_.

Shortly after his return from this voyage, Park, learning that the
African Association, of which his friend Sir Joseph Banks was a very
active and zealous member, were desirous of engaging a person to
replace Major Houghton, who, it was feared, had fallen a sacrifice to
the climate, or perished in some contest with the natives, eagerly
offered his services, which after due deliberation were accepted.
The association, he observes, conducted itself with great liberality
towards him. He forthwith prepared himself for the voyage, and on the
22d of May, 1795, sailed from Portsmouth in the brig Endeavour. His
instructions, he says, were very plain and concise. He was directed,
on his arrival in Africa, “to pass on to the river Niger, either by
the way of Bambouk or by such other route as should be found most
convenient; that I should ascertain the course, and, if possible,
the rise and termination of the river. That I should use my utmost
exertions to visit the principal towns or cities in its neighbourhood,
particularly Timbuctoo and Houssa; and that I should afterward be at
liberty to return to Europe, either by the way of the Gambia, or by
such other route as under all the then existing circumstances of my
situation and prospects should appear to me to be most advisable.”

On the 21st of June, after an agreeable voyage of thirty days, he
arrived at Jillifica, a town on the northern bank of the Gambia, in the
kingdom of Barra. From this place after a stay of two days he proceeded
up the Gambia, in the waters of which were found prodigious numbers
of fish of unknown species, together with alligators and hippopotami,
whose teeth furnish excellent ivory. Park, having quitted the Endeavour
at Jonkakonda, proceeded thence by land; and reaching Pisania, a small
British factory in the King of Yam’s dominions, on the 5th of July took
up his residence at the house of Dr. Laidley, until he should be able
to prosecute his journey into the interior.

Our traveller’s first care now was to render himself master of the
Mandingo language, which in this part of Africa is in general use; and
to collect from every source within his power information respecting
the countries he was about to visit. In the language his progress
depended on his own application; but he soon found that little or no
reliance could be placed on the accounts of the interior furnished him
by the natives, who on the most material points were frequently in
direct contradiction with each other. His anxiety to examine and judge
for himself was therefore increased. However, besides that the rainy
season, which had now commenced, rendered travelling impracticable,
another equally insuperable bar to the speedy prosecution of his
journey quickly presented itself. In observing on the 31st of July
an eclipse of the moon, he imprudently exposed himself to the night
dew, and next day he found himself attacked by fever and delirium,
which were the commencement of an illness that with a very trifling
intermission confined him during two months within doors. “The care and
attention of Dr. Laidley contributed greatly,” says Park, “to alleviate
my sufferings; his company and conversation beguiled the tedious
hours during that gloomy season when the rain falls in torrents; when
suffocating heats oppress by day, and when the night is spent by the
terrified traveller in listening to the croaking of frogs (of which the
numbers are beyond imagination), the shrill cry of the jackal, and the
deep howling of the hyena; a dismal concert, interrupted only by the
roar of such tremendous thunder as no person can form a conception of
but those who have heard it.”

Having been disappointed in his expectations of proceeding with a
slave caravan towards Bambarra, Park departed from Pisania on the 2d
of December, 1795. He had been provided with a negro servant, named
Johnson, who had been many years in Great Britain, and understood
both the English and Mandingo languages; and with a negro boy, named
Demba, the property of Dr. Laidley, who, as the highest inducement of
good behaviour, promised him his freedom on his return. Besides these
Park was accompanied by four other persons, who, though independent
of his control, were made to understand that their safe return to the
countries on the Gambia would depend on our traveller’s preservation.
His equipment was by no means magnificent: a horse for himself, two
asses for his servants, provisions for two days, a small assortment of
beads, amber, and tobacco, a few changes of linen and other apparel,
an umbrella, a pocket sextant, a magnetic compass, a thermometer, two
fowling-pieces, two pair of pistols, and some other small articles. His
friends at Pisania accompanied him during the first two days, and then,
dismissing him on his way, took their leave, secretly persuaded they
should never see him more.

He had scarcely lost sight of his European friends, and ridden off
musing and somewhat melancholy into the wood, when a body of black
people presented themselves in a clamorous manner before him, demanding
custom-dues, in default of which they threatened to carry him before
their king. To escape from this honour, which might have proved a
costly one, Park presented them with a little tobacco, upon which they
were of course contented, and he was allowed to proceed. On reaching
Medina, the capital of Woolli, he judged it prudent, or perhaps
absolutely necessary, to present himself at the king’s levee, when
the venerable benevolent old chief not only granted him permission to
traverse his dominions, but assured him he would offer up prayers for
his safety, partly to secure which he furnished him with a trusty guide.

Having safely reached the frontiers of the Woolli dominions, Park
dismissed his guide; and being about to enter a country interspersed
with deserts, in which water is frequently not to be procured, he hired
three negroes, experienced elephant-hunters, who were at once to serve
as guides and water-bearers. While he was preparing to depart, however,
one of these negroes, who had all received a part of their pay in
advance, made his escape; and lest the remaining two should be disposed
to follow his example, he immediately gave orders to fill their
calabashes, or gourds, with water, and struck off into the wilderness,
just as the sun was appearing above the horizon. Through this desert
they proceeded until they reached Tallika, the frontier town of Bondou
towards Woolli, where Park engaged a kind of custom-house officer to
accompany him for a trifling present to Fatteconda, the residence
of the king. In his company our traveller accordingly performed the
journey to that city. On his arrival at Fatteconda he was received by
the black chief with much apparent kindness, though Major Houghton, he
had heard, in his passage through the country, had been both insulted
and plundered by this same man. However, he soon discovered that the
manifestations of a hospitable disposition observable in the king’s
manner was not deceptive. It is true he was so completely captivated
by our traveller’s best blue coat and gilt buttons, that he could not
resist the temptation to beg it; but he endeavoured in some measure to
remunerate him for the loss by a present of five drachms of gold, and
by altogether abstaining from examining his baggage, or exacting any
other present than what was voluntarily bestowed.

The territories of these petty African chiefs, whom we complaisantly
denominate kings, are exceedingly limited in extent. Your road conducts
you to-day through one kingdom, to-morrow through another, and the next
day through a third; which, of all those circumstances that obstruct
the movements of the traveller in Africa, is, perhaps, the most
vexatious and the most difficult to overcome; as the rapacity of the
first chiefs who lie in his way deprives him of the power of satisfying
the equal rapacity of the remainder. This consideration alone would
suffice to convince me that if ever Africa is to be properly explored,
it must be by an armed force sufficiently powerful to carry terror
through the country, and not by a solitary traveller, who, whatever may
be his perseverance or courage, must either fall in the attempt, or
return with notions hastily formed, picked up at random, or borrowed
from the ignorant credulous natives. The perpetual state of captivity
in which Park moved is a strong proof of this. He was never, unless
when far removed from human society by woods or deserts, completely
master of his own actions, or sufficiently respected to render it
possible for him to contemplate the superior classes, even of these
savages, from a proper level. To judge with impartiality, a man must
neither be under the influence of fear nor of contempt, of anger nor of
gratitude. He must feel himself perfectly on a level with those about
him.

To proceed, however, with Park:--“In the afternoon,” says he, “my
fellow-travellers informed me, that as this was the boundary between
Bondou and Kajaaga, and dangerous for travellers, it would be necessary
to continue our journey by night, until we should reach a more
hospitable part of the country. I agreed to the proposal, and hired
two people for guides through the woods, and as soon as the people of
the village were gone to sleep (the moon shining bright) we set out.
The stillness of the air, the howling of the wild beasts, and the deep
solitude of the forest made the scene solemn and impressive. Not a word
was uttered by any of us but in a whisper; all were attentive, and
every one anxious to show his sagacity by pointing out to me the wolves
and hyenas as they glided like shadows from one thicket to another.
Towards morning we arrived at a village called Kimmoo, when our guides
awakened one of their acquaintance, and we stopped to give our asses
some corn, and roast a few ground-nuts for ourselves. At daylight
we resumed our journey, and in the afternoon arrived at Joag in the
kingdom of Kajaaga.”

On arriving at Joag, the frontier town of the kingdom of Kajaaga, our
traveller (who had taken up his residence at the house of the dooty, or
chief man of the town, a rigid but hospitable Mohammedan) was favoured
with an opportunity of observing the genuine character of the negro.
“The same evening,” says he, “Madiboo, the bushreen who had accompanied
me from Pisania, went to pay a visit to his father and mother, who
dwelt at a neighbouring town called Dramanet. He was joined by my other
attendant the blacksmith; and as soon as it was dark, I was invited
to see the sports of the inhabitants, it being their custom on the
arrival of strangers to welcome them by diversions of different kinds.
I found a great crowd surrounding a party who were dancing by the light
of some large fires to the music of four drums, which were beat with
great exactness and uniformity. The dances, however, consisted more in
wanton gestures than in muscular exertion or graceful attitudes. The
ladies vied with each other in displaying the most voluptuous movements
imaginable.”

At Joag, while preparing to advance on his journey, he was suddenly
honoured with a visit from the king’s son, accompanied by a troop
of horse, who, pretending that by entering his father’s dominions
he had forfeited the whole of his property, insisted upon examining
his merchandise, of which he seized upon the moiety. Of the remnant
that remained, particularly a little amber and a few beads, which
he had succeeded in concealing, he was now so fearful of producing
any portion, even for the purchase of food, lest he should once more
awaken the cupidity of the authorities, that both he and his attendants
determined on combating hunger for the day, “and wait some opportunity
of purchasing or begging provisions.” In this extremity, while he
was sitting down chewing straws, a female slave, who observed him
in passing by, was moved with compassion, and presented him with a
quantity of ground-nuts, which was a very seasonable supply. Scarcely
had the old woman left him, before he received information that the
nephew of the King of Kasson, who had been sent by his uncle on an
embassy to the King of Kajaaga, and was now returning to his own
country, was about to pay him a visit. He came accordingly, and upon
Park’s representing to him his situation and distresses, kindly offered
to be his guide and protector as far as Kasson. With him, therefore,
our traveller now continued his route to the banks of the Senegal,
upon crossing which, his royal guide, who, like other guides, required
a present for his services, informed him they were in his uncle’s
dominions, and in complete safety.

Safe or not safe, however, Park soon found that the stranger and the
traveller were nowhere beyond the reach of extortion. Half of the
little property which had escaped the fangs of the Kajaaga people, was
here taken from him. He was then permitted to depart. Among the honest
negroes with whom he had set out from Pisania, on the Gambia, there was
a blacksmith from the interior, who, having amassed some little money
upon the coast, was now returning to spend the remainder of his days
in his native land. Shortly after quitting Teesee, the last place where
our traveller had submitted to legal robbery, he and his companions
came within sight of the blacksmith’s village. The news of his return
had, it seems, preceded him. His brother, accompanied by a singing-man,
came forth to welcome the wanderer home, and brought along with him a
horse, that the blacksmith “might enter his native town in a dignified
manner.” Park and his companions were desired to put a good charge of
powder into their guns. The singing-man led the way; the two brothers
followed; and the cavalcade was quickly joined by a considerable number
of the inhabitants, who, by extravagant gestures and songs of triumph,
testified their joy at the return of their townsman. “When we arrived
at the blacksmith’s place of residence, we dismounted, and fired our
muskets. The meeting between him and his relations was very tender;
for these rude children of nature, freed from restraint, display their
emotions in the strongest and most expressive manner.--Amid these
transports, the blacksmith’s aged mother was led forth, leaning upon a
staff. Every one made way for her; and she stretched out her hand to
bid her son welcome. Being totally blind, she stroked his hands, and
arms, and face with great care, and seemed highly delighted that her
latter days were blessed by his return, and that her ears once more
heard the music of his voice. From this interview, I was convinced,
that whatever difference there is between the Negro and European in the
conformation of the nose, and the colour of their skin, there is none
in the genuine sympathies and characteristic feelings of our common
nature.

“During the tumult of these congratulations, I had seated myself
apart, by the side of one of the huts, being unwilling to interrupt
the flow of filial and parental tenderness; and the attention of the
company was so entirely taken up with the blacksmith, that I believe
none of his friends had observed me. When all the people present had
seated themselves, the blacksmith was desired by his father to give
some account of his adventures; and silence being commanded he began;
and after repeatedly thanking God for the success that had attended
him, related every material occurrence that had happened to him from
his leaving Kasson to his arrival at the Gambia; his employment and
success in those parts; and the dangers he had escaped in returning
to his native country. In the latter part of his narration, he had
frequent occasion to mention me; and after many strong expressions
concerning my kindness to him, he pointed to the place where I sat, and
exclaimed, _Affille ibi siring_ (see him sitting there). In a moment
all eyes were turned upon me. I appeared like a being dropped from the
clouds, every one was surprised that they had not observed me before;
and a few women and children expressed great uneasiness at being so
near a man of such an uncommon appearance. By degrees, however, their
apprehensions subsided, and when the blacksmith assured them I was
perfectly inoffensive, some of them ventured so far as to examine the
texture of my clothes; but many of them were still very suspicious,
and when by accident I happened to move myself, or look at the young
children, their mothers would scamper off with them with the greatest
precipitation. In a few hours, however, they all became reconciled to
me.”

With these honest people Park remained during the whole of that day and
the next, and then, accompanied by the worthy blacksmith, who declared
he would not quit him during his stay in that part of the country, set
forward towards Kooniakary. On his arrival at this city he obtained
an audience of the king, a fine old man, who, for his conduct both in
peace and war, was greatly beloved by his subjects. His behaviour
towards the stranger was not inconsistent with this character. He
informed him with apparent regret, that the direct route to Bambarra
was about to be closed by war, but, after vainly advising his guest to
retrace his footsteps, added, that there yet remained some hopes of
peace, respecting the validity of which he should be able to pronounce
an opinion in the course of four or five days. In the mean while he
invited Park to remain in the neighbourhood.

On the 1st of February, 1796, the king’s messenger returned from the
contiguous kingdom of Kaarta, bringing intelligence that the Bambarra
army had not yet entered the country, and that it was possible the
traveller might be enabled to traverse it before the invasion should
take place. Accordingly, being provided with two guides by the king,
Park took leave of his friend the blacksmith, and set forward on his
dangerous journey. The country, at all times thickly peopled, now
swarmed with fugitives, whom the fear of the Bambarrans had terrified
from their homes. The scenery in many places was romantically wild. “On
coming within sight of the mountains of Foolado, we travelled,” says
Park, “with great difficulty down a stony and abrupt precipice, and
continued our way in the bed of a dried river-course, where the trees
meeting over our heads, made the place dark and cool. In a little time
we reached the bottom of this romantic glen; and about ten o’clock
emerged from between two rocky hills, and found ourselves on the
level and sandy plains of Kaarta. At noon we arrived at a korree, or
watering-place, where, for a few strings of beads, I purchased as much
milk and corn-meal as we could eat; and indeed provisions are here so
cheap, and the shepherds live in such affluence, that they seldom ask
any return for what refreshment a traveller receives from them.”

From this place, having prevailed upon his landlord, a Mohammedan
negro, to accompany him as a guide to Kemmoo, our traveller set forward
on the 11th of February. He observes, “We had no sooner got into a
dark and lonely part of the first wood, than he made a sign for us
to stop; and taking hold of a hollow piece of bamboo that hung as an
amulet round his neck, whistled very loud three times. I confess I was
somewhat startled, thinking it was a signal for some of his companions
to come and attack us; but he assured me it was done merely with a view
to ascertain what success we were likely to meet with on our present
journey. He then dismounted, laid his spear across the road, and having
said a number of short prayers, concluded with three loud whistles;
after which he listened for some time, as if in expectation of an
answer, and receiving none, told us we might proceed without fear, for
there was no danger.”

Adventures now appeared to crowd upon our traveller. The country
through which their road lay being thickly sprinkled with wild
fruit-trees, they amused themselves as they rode slowly along with
picking and eating the fruit. “In this pursuit,” says Park, “I had
wandered a little from my people, and being uncertain whether they were
before or behind me, I hastened to a rising ground to look about me.
As I was proceeding towards this eminence, two negro horsemen, armed
with muskets, came galloping from among the bushes. On seeing them I
made a full stop; the horsemen did the same; and all three of us seemed
equally surprised and confounded at this interview. As I approached
them their fears increased, and one of them, after casting on me a
look of horror, rode off at full speed; the other, in a panic of fear,
put his hand over his eyes, and continued muttering prayers until his
horse, seemingly without his rider’s knowledge, conveyed him slowly
after his companion. About a mile to the westward they fell in with my
attendants, to whom they related a frightful story; it seems their
fears had dressed me in the flowing robes of a tremendous spirit; and
one of them affirmed, that when I made my appearance, a cold blast of
wind came pouring down upon him from the sky, like so much cold water.”

Shortly after this they arrived at the capital of Kaarta, where he
was an object of such extraordinary curiosity to the populace, the
majority of whom had never before seen a white man, that they burst
forcibly into his hut, crowd after crowd. Those who had beheld the
monster giving way to those who had not, until, as he observes, the hut
was filled and emptied thirteen different times. Here he found that
the war with Bambarra had actually commenced; that all communication
between the countries had consequently ceased; and that, if it was his
determination to persevere, it would be necessary to take a circuitous
route through the Moorish kingdom of Ludamar. The people of Kaarta
were Mohammedans; but there is a variety in church discipline even
among these inflexible fanatics; for, instead of the fine sonorous
voice of the muezzin, by which the faithful are elsewhere summoned to
their devotions, the hour of prayer was here announced by the beating
of drums, and blowing through large elephant’s teeth, hollowed out in
such a manner as to resemble buglehorns. The sound of these horns our
traveller thought melodious, and approaching nearer to the human voice
than any other artificial sound. Being very desirous to depart from the
seat of war, Park presented his horse-pistols and holsters to the king;
and on pressing to be dismissed, received in return an escort of eight
horsemen to conduct him to Jarra. Three of the king’s sons, with two
hundred horsemen, kindly undertook to accompany him a little way on his
journey.

On his arrival at Jarra, in the kingdom of Ludamar, he despatched a
messenger to Ali, who was then encamped near Benowm,
soliciting permission to pass unmolested through his territories; and
having waited fourteen days for his reply, a slave at length arrived
from the chief, affirming that he had been instructed to conduct the
traveller in safety as far as Goomba. His negro, Johnson, here refused
to follow him any further, and signified his intention of pushing back
without delay to Gambia; upon which Park, fearful of the success of his
enterprise, intrusted him with a copy of his journal, reserving another
for himself, directing him to deliver the papers to the English on the
coast. A portion of his baggage and apparel he committed to the care
of a slave-merchant at Jarra, who was known to Dr. Laidley. He then
departed with his slave-boy, accompanied by the chief’s messenger. On
the road our traveller was robbed once more by the Moors, who added
insult to violence; and when he was nearly perishing for thirst, beat
away his faithful slave from the wells, without permitting him to draw
water.

However, after much fatigue and extraordinary privations, they arrived
in Ali’s camp at Benowm, where Park was immediately
surrounded by crowds of fanatical Moors, attracted partly by curiosity,
partly from a desire to vent their fierce zeal against a Christian.
“My arrival,” says he, “was no sooner observed than the people, who
drew water at the wells, threw down their buckets; those in the tents
mounted their horses, and men, women, and children came running or
galloping towards me. I soon found myself surrounded by such a crowd,
that I could scarcely move; one pulled my clothes, another took off
my hat; a third stopped me to examine my waistcoat buttons, and a
fourth called out ‘La illah el allah Mahamet rasowl allahi,’ and
signified, in a threatening manner, that I must repeat those words.
We reached at length the king’s tent, where we found a great number
of people, men, women, and children, assembled. Ali was sitting on
a black leathern cushion, clipping a few hairs from his upper lip--a
female attendant holding up a looking-glass before him. He appeared
to be an old man of the Arab cast, with a long white beard, and he
had a sullen and indignant aspect. He surveyed me with attention,
and inquired of the Moors if I could speak Arabic; being answered in
the negative, he appeared much surprised, and continued silent. The
surrounding attendants, and particularly the ladies, were abundantly
more inquisitive; they asked a thousand questions, inspected every
part of my apparel, searched my pockets, and obliged me to unbutton my
waistcoat and display the whiteness of my skin; they even counted my
toes and fingers, as if they doubted whether I was in truth a human
being.”

Ali now, with the base idea of insulting an unprotected stranger,
ordered a wild boar to be brought in, which he signified his desire
that Park should kill and eat. This, well knowing their religious
prejudices, he of course refused to do; upon which the boys who led in
the boar were commanded to let it loose upon him, the Moors supposing
that there exists an inveterate feud between pigs and Christians, and
that it would immediately run upon and gore him. The boar, however,
was more magnanimous. Scorning to attack a defenceless foreigner, he
no sooner found himself at liberty than, brandishing his tusks at the
natives, he rushed at them indiscriminately, and then, to complete
the consternation, took shelter under the very couch upon which
the tyrant was sitting. This bold proceeding of the unclean beast
dissolved the assembly, and the traveller was led away to the tent of
a slave, in front of which, not being permitted to enter, he received
a little food. Here he likewise passed the night lying upon the sand,
surrounded by the curious multitude. Next day, a hut, constructed
with corn-stalks, was given him; but the abovementioned boar, which
had been recaptured, was tied to a stake in the corner of it, as his
fittest companion.

By degrees, however, the Moors began to conceive that the Christian
might in one way or another be rendered useful, but could think of
no better employment for him than that of a barber. In this capacity
he made his first attempt, in the royal presence, on the head of the
young prince of Ludamar. This dignified office he had no great desire
to monopolize, and his unskilfulness in performing the operation, for
he almost at the outset made an incision in the young prince’s head,
quickly reduced him once more to the rank of a common mortal. Ali
seemed by no means desirous, however, of dispensing altogether with his
services, wishing perhaps to preserve him from the same motives which
induce us to preserve a wild beast; and therefore, to render his escape
the more impracticable, took possession of the whole of his baggage,
including his gold, amber, watch, and one of his pocket compasses; the
other he had fortunately buried in the sand composing the floor of his
hut. The gold and amber were highly gratifying to Moorish avarice, but
the pocket compass soon became an object of superstitious curiosity.
“Ali was very desirous to be informed, why that small piece of iron,
the needle, always pointed to the Great Desert, and I found myself
somewhat puzzled to answer the question. To have pleaded my ignorance,
would have created a suspicion that I wished to conceal the real truth
from him; I therefore told him that my mother resided far beyond the
sands of Sahara, and that while she was alive, the piece of iron would
always point that way, and serve as a guide to conduct me to her; and
that if she was dead, it would point to her grave. Ali now looked
at the compass with redoubled amazement; turned it round and round
repeatedly, but observing that it always pointed the same way, he took
it up with great caution, and returned it to me, manifesting that he
thought there was something of magic in it, and that he was afraid of
keeping so dangerous an instrument in his possession.”

It now began to be debated between Ali and his advisers what should
be done with their prisoner. Their decisions were very dissimilar.
Some were of opinion that he should be put to death; others that he
should merely lose his right hand; while a third party thought that
his eyes ought to be put out. Ali himself, however, determined that
matters should remain as they were until his queen Fatima, then in
the north, had seen him. Meanwhile all these reports were related to
our traveller, and tended not a little to distress and agitate his
mind. His demand to be permitted to depart was formally refused. The
accumulated horrors of his situation, united with the want of food and
sleep, at length brought on a fever, by which his life was endangered.
But his persecution from the Moors did not therefore cease. They
plucked his cloak from him; they overwhelmed him with insults; they
tortured him like some ferocious animal, for their amusement; and when,
to escape from this detestable thraldom, he crawled away to a short
distance from the camp, he was forced back by menaces and violence.

At length, after more than a month’s detention at Benowm, he was
commanded to follow Ali to the northern encampment of Bubaker, on the
skirts of the Great Desert, and on the way endured the extremity of
hunger, thirst, and fatigue. Upon arriving at Bubaker, he was shown
as a strange animal to Fatima; who, though far from being exempt from
the Moorish prejudices against a Christian, or in any remarkable
degree disposed to humanity, still treated him with somewhat greater
lenity than the rest of the Moors; and, upon the departure of her
husband for Jarra, not only obtained him permission to join the party,
but prevailed upon the tyrant to restore him his horse, saddle, and
bridle, together with a part of his apparel. His faithful black boy
Demba, however, was taken from him, notwithstanding his animated
remonstrances to Ali, who, upon his pressing the point rather warmly,
only replied, that if he did not instantly mount his horse and depart,
he should share the fate of his slave. “There is something in the frown
of a tyrant,” says Park, “which rouses the most secret emotions of
the heart; I could not suppress my feelings; and for once entertained
an indignant wish to rid the world of such a monster. Poor Demba was
not less affected than myself; he had formed a strong attachment
towards me, and had a cheerfulness of disposition which often beguiled
the tedious hours of captivity; he was likewise a proficient in the
Bambarra tongue, and promised, on that account, to be of great use to
me in future. But it was in vain to expect any thing favourable to
humanity from a people who are strangers to its dictates. So having
shaken hands with this unfortunate boy, and blended my tears with his,
assuring him, however, I would do the best to redeem him, I saw him led
off by three of Ali’s slaves towards the camp at Bubaker.”

Upon his arrival at Jarra, where he was shortly afterward transferred
by Ali to tyrants of a lower grade, his condition, far from being
improved, was only rendered the more intolerable. The city itself,
moreover, was in a state of the utmost confusion. Malcontents from
Kaarta having taken refuge here, had recently made an incursion into
their native country, carried off a large quantity of plunder, and thus
drawn the vengeance of their king against the city. All those who had
reason to dread his resentment were now, therefore, preparing to fly
into Bambarra; and Park, whose route lay in the same direction, became
exceedingly desirous of effecting his escape from the Moors, that he
might seize upon this fortunate occasion of fulfilling the object
of his mission. “Their departure,” says he, speaking of the black
fugitives, “was very affecting: the women and children crying, the men
sullen and dejected, and all of them looking back with regret on their
native town; and on the wells and rocks beyond which their ambition had
never tempted them to stray, and where they had laid all their plans of
future happiness; all of which they were now forced to abandon, and to
seek shelter among strangers.”

Hoping to escape in this confused throng, he mounted his horse; and
taking a bag of corn before him, rode slowly off along with the
townspeople. On their arrival at Queira, a village at no great distance
from the city, Park began to flatter himself that he had really eluded
the vigilance of his persecutors; but before the agreeable idea had got
a firm footing in his mind, he saw Ali’s chief slave, accompanied by
four Moors, arrive, and take up their lodgings with the dooty. Johnson,
our traveller’s interpreter, suspecting the design of this visit, sent
two boys to overhear their conversation, by which means he learned that
it was their intention to carry Park back to Bubaker. Upon this he at
once came to the desperate resolution to effect his deliverance that
very night from his pursuers, or to perish in the attempt. Johnson, who
applauded this determination, but wanted the courage to imitate it, was
nevertheless exceedingly well disposed to aid in effecting his master’s
escape. He therefore undertook to keep watch upon the movements of the
enemy, while Park was preparing for flight. About midnight he got all
his apparel in readiness, which consisted of two shirts, two pair of
trousers, two pocket-handkerchiefs, an upper and under waistcoat, a
hat, a pair of half-boots, and a cloak. Besides these things he had
not in his possession a single bead, or any other article, with which
to purchase food for himself, or provender for his horse:--“About
daybreak, Johnson, who had been listening to the Moors all night,
came,” says he, “and whispered to me that they were all asleep. The
awful crisis was now arrived when I was again either to taste the
blessings of freedom, or languish out my days in captivity. A cold
sweat moistened my forehead as I thought of the dreadful alternative,
and reflected that one way or the other, my fate must be decided in
the course of the ensuing day. But to deliberate was to lose the only
chance of escaping. So taking up my bundle, I stepped gently over the
negroes who were sleeping in the open air; and, having mounted my
horse, I bade Johnson farewell, desiring him to take particular care of
the papers I had intrusted him with, and inform my friends in Gambia
that he had left me in good health on my way to Bambarra. I proceeded
with great caution, surveying each bush, and frequently listening and
looking behind me for the Moorish horsemen, until I was about a mile
from the town, when I was surprised to find myself in the neighbourhood
of a korree, belonging to the Moors. The shepherds followed me for
about a mile, hooting and throwing stones after me; and when I was out
of their reach, and had begun to indulge the pleasing hope of escaping,
I was again greatly alarmed to hear somebody halloo behind me; and
looking back I saw three Moors on horseback, coming after me at full
speed, whooping and brandishing their double-barrel guns: I knew it was
in vain to think of escaping, and therefore turned back and met them;
when two of them caught hold of my bridle, one on each side, and the
third, presenting his musket, told me I must go back to Ali.”

It soon appeared, however, that these gentlemen were merely private
robbers, who were fearful that their master had not sufficiently
pillaged the stranger; for, after examining his bundle, and plundering
him of his cloak, they bade him begone, and follow them no further. Too
happy to be rid of the villains at any rate, he immediately struck
into the woods, and continued his journey. His joy at thus escaping
from the Moors was quickly damped by the consideration that he must
very soon be in want of both food and water, neither of which could he
procure without approaching villages or wells, where he would almost
inevitably encounter his old enemies. He therefore pushed on with all
the vigour of which he was possessed, in the hope of reaching some
town or village of the kingdom of Bambarra. But he already began to
experience the tortures of thirst. His mouth was parched and inflamed;
a sudden dimness, accompanied by symptoms of fainting, would frequently
come over his eyes; and as his horse also was exceedingly fatigued,
he began to apprehend that he should perish of thirst. Some shrubs,
the leaves of which he chewed to relieve the burning pain in his mouth
and throat, were all found to be bitter and of no service. “A little
before sunset, having reached the top of a gentle rising,” says Park,
“I climbed a high tree, from the topmost branches of which I cast a
melancholy look over the barren wilderness, but without discovering the
most distant trace of a human dwelling. The same dismal uniformity of
shrubs and sand everywhere presented itself, and the horizon was level
and uninterrupted as that of the sea.

“Descending from the tree, I found my horse devouring the stubble and
brushwood with great avidity; and as I was now too faint to attempt
walking, and my horse too much fatigued to carry me, I thought it
but an act of humanity, and perhaps the last I should ever have it
in my power to perform, to take off his bridle and let him shift for
himself; in doing which, I was affected with sickness and giddiness;
and, falling upon the sand, felt as if the hour of death was fast
approaching. Here then (thought I), after a short but ineffectual
struggle, terminate all my hopes of being useful in my day and
generation--here must the short span of my life come to an end. I
cast, as I believed, a last look on the surrounding scene, and while
I reflected on the awful change that was about to take place, this
world and its enjoyments seemed to vanish from my recollection. Nature,
however, at length resumed its functions; and on recovering my senses
I found myself stretched upon the sand, with the bridle still in my
hand, and the sun just sinking behind the trees. I now summoned all
my resolution, and determined to make another effort to prolong my
existence: and, as the evening was somewhat cool, I resolved to travel
as far as my limbs would carry me, in hopes of reaching (my only
resource) a watering-place. With this view I put the bridle upon my
horse, and driving him before me, went slowly along for about an hour,
when I perceived some lightning from the north-east--a most delightful
sight, for it promised rain. The darkness and lightning increased very
rapidly; and in less than an hour I heard the wind roaring behind the
bushes. I had already opened my mouth to receive the refreshing drops
which I expected: but I was instantly covered with a cloud of sand,
driven with such force by the wind as to give a very disagreeable
sensation to my face and arms; and I was obliged to mount my horse and
stop under a bush to prevent being suffocated. The sand continued to
fly for near an hour in amazing quantities, after which I again set
forward, and travelled with difficulty until ten o’clock. About this
time I was agreeably surprised by some very vivid flashes of lightning,
followed by a few heavy drops of rain. In a little time the sand ceased
to fly, and I alighted and spread out all my clean clothes to collect
the rain, which at length I saw would certainly fall. For more than an
hour it rained plentifully, and I quenched my thirst by wringing and
sucking my clothes.

“There being no moon, it was remarkably dark; so that I was obliged to
lead my horse, and direct my way by the compass, which the lightning
enabled me to observe. In this manner I travelled with tolerable
expedition until past midnight; when the lightning became more distant,
and I was under the necessity of groping along, to the no small danger
of my hands and eyes. About two o’clock my horse started at something;
and, looking round, I was not a little surprised to see a light at
a short distance among the trees, and supposing it to be a town, I
groped along the sand in hopes of finding corn-stalks, cotton, or
other appearances of cultivation, but found none. As I approached, I
perceived a number of other lights in different places, and began to
suspect that I had fallen upon a party of Moors. However, in my present
situation, I was resolved to see who they were, if I could do it with
safety. I accordingly led my horse cautiously towards the light, and
heard by the lowing of the cattle, and the clamorous tongues of the
herdsmen, that it was a watering-place, and most likely belonged to
the Moors. Delightful as the sound of the human voice was to me, I
resolved once more to strike into the woods, and rather run the risk
of perishing with hunger, than trust myself again in their hands; but
being still thirsty, and dreading the approach of the burning day, I
thought it prudent to search for the wells, which I expected to find
at no great distance. In this pursuit I inadvertently approached so
near one of the tents as to to be perceived by a woman, who immediately
screamed out. The people came running to her assistance from some of
the neighbouring tents, and passed so very near me that I thought I was
discovered, and hastened again into the woods.

“About a mile from this place I heard a loud and confused noise,
somewhere to the right of my course, and in a short time was happy
to find it was the croaking of frogs, which was heavenly music to my
ears. I followed the sound, and at daybreak arrived at some shallow
muddy pools, so full of frogs that it was difficult to discern the
water. The noise they made frightened my horse, and I was obliged to
keep them quiet by beating the water with a branch until he had drunk.
Having here quenched my thirst, I ascended a tree, and the morning
being clear, I soon perceived the smoke of the watering-place which
I had passed in the night, and observed another pillar of smoke,
east-southeast, distant 12 or 14 miles.”

Towards this column of smoke, which, as he was informed, arose from
a Foulah village, he now directed his course; but on arriving at the
place, was inhospitably driven from every door, except that of an old
woman, who kindly received him into her dwelling, and furnished him
with food for himself and with provender for his horse. Even here,
however, the influence of Ali pursued him like his evil genius. The
people who had collected round him while he was eating, began, as
he clearly discovered from their expressions, to form the design of
carrying him back once more to Benowm or Bubaker. He therefore hastened
his departure, and having wandered among the woods all day, passed the
night under a tree. In this way he continued his journey, sometimes
meeting with hospitality, but more frequently avoiding the dwellings of
man, and subsisting upon the wild produce of the woods, and the water
of a few pools, to which the croaking of the frogs directed him.

At length he entered the kingdom of Bambarra, where he found the people
more hospitable in proportion as they were more opulent than their
neighbours. Cultivation was here carried on in a spirited manner and
on an extensive scale, and “hunger,” as the natives expressed it,
“was never known.” The country itself was beautiful, intersected on
all sides by rivulets, which, after a rain-storm, were swelled into
rapid streams. Park’s horse was now so attenuated by fatigue that it
appeared like a mere skeleton, which the traveller, fearing to mount,
drove before him, as if to scare away the crows. The Bambarrans, whose
hospitable disposition was accompanied by but little delicacy, were
infinitely amused at this droll spectacle. Taking him for a Moor, they
supposed from his appearance that he must be one of those religious
mendicants who, having performed the pilgrimage to the holy cities,
thenceforward consider themselves fully entitled to subsist upon the
labours of their industrious coreligionists. “‘He has been at Mecca,’
said one; ‘you may see that by his clothes.’ Another asked if my horse
was sick; a third wished to purchase it, &c. So that I believe the very
slaves were ashamed to be seen in my company.”

However, in spite of all this laughter and ridicule, he proceeded on
his way, and at length had the satisfaction to be informed that on the
morrow he should see the Niger, denominated _Joliba_, or the “Great
Water,” by the natives. Next morning, the 21st of July, after passing
through several large villages, he saw the smoke ascend over Sego,
the capital of Bambarra, and felt elate with joy at the thought of
drawing near so important an object of his mission. “As we approached
the town,” says Park, “I was fortunate enough to overtake the fugitive
Kaartans, to whose kindness I had been so much indebted in my journey
through Bambarra. They readily agreed to introduce me to the king, and
we rode together through some marshy ground, where, as I anxiously
looked around for the river, one of them called out _Geo affilli_
(see the water); and, looking forward, I saw with infinite pleasure
the great object of my mission,--the long sought for, majestic Niger,
glittering to the morning sun, as broad as the Thames at Westminster,
and flowing slowly _to the eastward_. I hastened to the brink, and,
having drunk of the water, lifted up my fervent thanks in prayer
to the Great Ruler of all things for having thus far crowned my
endeavours with success.”

Sego, the capital of Bambarra, consisted of four distinct towns, two
on the northern, and two on the southern bank of the Niger. The king
at this period resided on the southern bank, while Park had arrived on
the opposite side. The communication between the different quarters of
the city was kept up by means of large canoes, which were constantly
passing and repassing; notwithstanding which, so great was the pressure
of passengers, that Park was compelled to wait upwards of two hours
before he could obtain even a chance of being ferried over. Meanwhile,
the prospect before him was novel and striking in the highest degree.
“The view of this extensive city,” he observes, “the numerous canoes
on the river, the crowded population, and the cultivated state of the
surrounding country formed altogether a prospect of civilization and
magnificence which I little expected to find in the bosom of Africa.”

While he was thus waiting for a passage, the news was conveyed to
Mansong that a white man was on the banks of the river coming to see
him. The king, who seems to have been alarmed at this intelligence,
immediately despatched a messenger, who was directed to inform the
stranger that he would not be admitted into the royal presence until
the purport of his mission were made known; and that, in the mean
while, he was prohibited from passing the river. He was likewise told
that the king desired him to seek lodgings in one of the villages in
the vicinity of the capital. As there was no alternative, he at once
set out for the village, where, to his great mortification, he found
that no person would admit him into his house. “I was regarded with
astonishment and fear,” he observes, “and was obliged to sit all day
without victuals in the shade of a tree; and the night threatened to be
very uncomfortable, for the wind rose, and there was great appearance
of a heavy rain; and the wild beasts were so very numerous in the
neighbourhood, that I should have been under the necessity of climbing
up a tree, and resting among the branches. About sunset, however, as
I was preparing to pass the night in this manner, and had turned my
horse loose that he might graze at liberty, a woman returning from
the labours of the field stopped to observe me, and, perceiving that
I was weary and dejected, inquired into my situation, which I briefly
explained to her; whereupon, with looks of great compassion, she took
up my saddle and bridle, and told me to follow her. Having conducted
me into her hut, she lighted up a lamp, spread a mat upon the floor,
and told me I might remain there for the night. Finding that I was very
hungry, she said she would procure me something to eat; she accordingly
went out, and returned in a short time with a very fine fish, which,
having caused to be half-broiled upon some embers, she gave me for
supper. The rites of hospitality being thus performed towards a
stranger in distress, my worthy benefactress, pointing to the mat, and
telling me I might sleep there without apprehension, called to the
female part of her family, who had stood gazing on me all the while in
fixed astonishment, to resume their task of spinning cotton, in which
they continued to employ themselves great part of the night. They
lightened their labour by songs, one of which was composed extempore,
for I was myself the subject of it; it was sung by one of the young
women, the rest joining in a sort of chorus. The air was sweet and
plaintive, and the words literally translated were these:--‘The winds
roared, and the rains fell; the poor white man, faint and weary, came
and sat under our tree; he has no mother to bring him milk, no wife to
grind his corn.’ Chorus:--‘Let us pity the white man, no mother has
he,’ &c. Trifling as this recital may appear to the reader, to a person
in my situation the circumstance was affecting in the highest degree.
I was oppressed by such unexpected kindness that sleep fled my eyes. In
the morning I presented my compassionate landlady with two of the four
brass buttons which remained on my waistcoat, the only recompense I
could make her.”

Although Mansong refused to admit our traveller into his presence, and
seemed at first to neglect him, it soon appeared that this conduct did
not arise from any churlish or inhospitable feelings; for while he
persisted in his refusal to see him, and signified his pleasure that he
should forthwith depart from the city, he sent him a present of five
thousand cowries and a guide to Sansanding. Park immediately obeyed
the royal command, and learned from the conversation of his guide on
the way, that the king’s motives for thus dismissing him without an
audience were at once prudent and liberal, since he feared that by the
least show of favour he should excite the jealousy and envy of the
Moorish inhabitants, from whose inveterate malice he might be unable to
protect him.

With this guide he proceeded to Sansanding, where he was hospitably
received by the dooty, and would, as the king’s stranger, have enjoyed
much quiet and consideration, had he not had the misfortune to meet
with some of his old enemies the Moors, who insisted on conducting him
to the mosque, and converting him into a Mohammedan at once. However,
the dooty, by exerting his authority, freed him from these fanatics,
and ordered a sheep to be killed, and part of it dressed for his
supper. “About midnight, when the Moors had left me,” says Park, “he
paid me a visit, and with much earnestness desired me to write him a
saphie. ‘If a Moor’s saphie is good,’ said this hospitable old man, ‘a
white man’s must needs be better.’ I readily furnished him with one
possessed of all the virtues I could concentrate, for it contained the
Lord’s Prayer. The pen with which it was written was made of a reed, a
little charcoal and gum-water made very tolerable ink, and a thin board
answered the purpose of paper.”

From Sansanding he departed early in the morning, before the Moors
were stirring. The road now lay through the woods, and the guide, who
understood the dangers of the way, moved forward with the greatest
circumspection, frequently stopping and looking under the bushes. Upon
observing this, Park inquired the reason, and was told that lions were
very plentiful in that part of the country, and very often attacked
travellers in the woods. While they were conversing on this subject
Park discovered a camelopard at a little distance, the fore-legs of
which, from a hasty glance, appeared much longer than the hinder.
“Shortly after this,” says he, “as we were crossing a large open
plain where there were a few scattered bushes, my guide, who was a
little way before me, wheeled his horse round in a moment, calling out
something in the Foulah language which I did not understand. I inquired
in Mandingo what he meant. ‘_Wara billi billi_’ (a very large lion)!
said he, and made signs for me to ride away. But my horse was too much
fatigued; so we rode slowly past the bush from which the animal had
given us the alarm. Not seeing any thing myself, however, I thought my
guide had been mistaken, when the Foulah suddenly put his hand to his
mouth, exclaiming, ‘_Soubah an alluhi_’ (God preserve us)! and to my
great surprise I then perceived a large red lion at a short distance
from the bush, with his head couched between his fore-paws. I expected
he would instantly spring upon me, and instinctively pulled my feet
from my stirrups to throw myself on the ground, that my horse might
become the victim rather than myself. But it is probable the lion was
not hungry; for he quietly suffered us to pass, though we were fairly
within his reach.”

About sunset they arrived at Moodiboo, “a delightful village on the
banks of the Niger, commanding a view of the river for many miles, both
to the east and west. The small green islands, the peaceful retreat
of some industrious Foulahs, whose cattle were here secure from the
attacks of wild beasts, and the majestic breadth of the river, which
is here much larger than at Sego, render the situation one of the
most enchanting in the world.” Park was now so worn out with fatigue
and suffering, that his landlord, fearing he might die in his house,
hurried him away, though he was scarcely able to walk, and his horse
still less able to carry him. In fact, they had not proceeded far
before the poor beast fell down, and could no more be made to rise;
so that, taking off his saddle and bridle, our traveller with extreme
reluctance abandoned him to his fate, and began to toil along on foot
after his guide. In this way they reached Kea, a small fishing-village
on the Niger, where Park embarked in a fisherman’s canoe which was
going down the stream, while the guide returned to Sego.

In this canoe our traveller reached Moorzan, whence he was conveyed
across the river to Silla, a large town on the opposite shore. It
was with great difficulty that he here obtained admission into the
strangers’ room of the dooty’s house, a damp, uncomfortable place,
where he had a severe paroxysm of fever during the night. Here his
resolution and energy, of which no traveller ever possessed a larger
share, began at length to fail. No hope of success remained. He
therefore, with extreme sorrow and anguish of mind, determined on
returning whence he had come; but let me lay before the reader his
own simple and manly account of the matter, which cannot fail to
impress even the most insensible with veneration for a degree of
courage and intrepidity amounting to heroism. “Worn down by sickness,
exhausted by hunger and fatigue, half-naked, and without any article
of value by which I might procure provisions, clothes, or lodging,
I began,” says Park, “to reflect seriously on my situation. I was
now convinced by painful experience that the obstacles to my further
progress were insurmountable. The tropical rains had already set in
with all their violence; the rice-grounds and swamps were already
overflowed; and in a few days more travelling of every kind except by
water would be completely obstructed. The cowries which remained of
the King of Bambarra’s present were not sufficient to hire a canoe
for any great distance; and I had but little hopes of subsisting by
charity in a country where the Moors have such influence. But, above
all, I perceived I was advancing more and more within the power of
those merciless fanatics; and from my reception both at Sego and
Sansanding, I was apprehensive that, in attempting to reach even
Jeuné (unless under the protection of some man of consequence among
them, which I had no means of obtaining), I should sacrifice my life
to no purpose; for my discoveries would perish with me. The prospect
either way was gloomy. In returning to the Gambia, a journey on foot
of many hundred miles presented itself to my contemplation, through
regions and countries unknown. Nevertheless, this seemed to be the only
alternative; for I saw inevitable destruction in attempting to proceed
to the eastward. With this conviction on my mind, I hope my readers
will acknowledge I did right in going no farther. I had made every
exertion to execute my mission in its fullest extent which prudence
could justify. Had there been the most distant prospect of a successful
termination, neither the unavoidable hardships of the journey nor the
dangers of a second captivity should have forced me to desist. This,
however, necessity compelled me to do.”

When he had come to this resolution, he thought it incumbent upon
him before he left Silla to collect whatever information might be
within his reach respecting the further course of the Niger, and
the situation and extent of the various kingdoms in its vicinity.
Subsequent travellers have solved the problem, the honour of explaining
which was denied to Park. We now know that this great river, after
having flowed to a considerable distance eastward of Timbuctoo,
makes a bend or elbow like the Burrampooter, and, after pursuing a
south-westerly course, falls into the Atlantic Ocean on the coast of
Benin.

On the 30th of July our traveller commenced his return westward, by
the same route through which he had reached Silla. In a few days he
recovered his horse, which had in some measure regained its strength,
though it was still too weak to be ridden. The rainy season having now
set in, the whole of the plain country was quickly inundated; so that
our traveller was often in danger of losing his way while traversing
savannahs many miles in extent, knee-deep in water. In several places
he waded breast-deep across the swamps. The huts of the villages in
which he passed the night, being undermined or softened by the rain,
often fell in; and the noise of their fall sometimes kept him awake,
expecting that his own might be the next. His situation was now even
worse than during his progress eastward. A report had been widely
circulated that he was a spy, in consequence of which he was in some
places civilly refused admittance into the towns, in others repulsed
from the gates with violence; so that he now appeared inevitably
doomed to perish of hunger. However, when the fatal hour seemed at
hand, some charitable being always appeared with a poor but seasonable
supply, such, perhaps, as a little raw corn, which prolonged his life,
and supplied him with strength to achieve his memorable journey. “On
the evening of the 15th of August I arrived,” says Park, “at a small
village called Song, the surly inhabitants of which would not receive
me, nor so much as permit me to enter the gate; but as lions were very
numerous in this neighbourhood, and I had frequently in the course of
the day seen the impression of their feet upon the road, I resolved to
stay in the vicinity of the village. Having collected some grass for
my horse, I accordingly laid down under a tree by the gate. About ten
o’clock I heard the hollow roar of a lion at no great distance, and
attempted to open the gate; but the people from within told me that no
person must attempt to enter the gate without the dooty’s permission.
I begged them to inform the dooty that a lion was approaching the
village, and I hoped he would allow me to come within the gate. I
waited for an answer to this message with great anxiety; for the lion
kept prowling round the village, and once advanced so very near me that
I heard him rustling among the grass, and climbed the tree for safety.
About midnight the dooty with some of his people opened the gate, and
desired me to come in. They were convinced, they said, I was not a
Moor; for no Moor ever waited any time at the gate of a village without
cursing the inhabitants.”

The history of this journey now becomes nothing more than a repetition
of similar sufferings. Hunger, fatigue, and depression of spirits
attack the traveller by turns. Nothing, however, subdues his courage.
Obstacle after obstacle yields to his persevering intrepidity, and
he pushes forward with invincible ardour towards the coast. In one
place, at the request of a native who had grown opulent by industrious
application to commerce, he wrote charms for a good supper; and,
finding the contrivance productive, continued the practice next day for
small presents of various kinds. On other occasions, where superstition
did not come to his aid, humanity interposed, and snatched him from
starvation. At Bammakoo he was hospitably treated, even by a Moor,
who, having travelled to Rio Grande, had conversed with Christians,
and conceived a favourable idea of their character. The rains had now
increased the Niger to a vast size, and rendered impassable almost
every road; but, as our traveller’s finances had long been exhausted,
he found himself compelled to proceed, the charity of the natives
not extending so far as to the maintaining of a stranger for several
months. The ordinary roads being obstructed by the rains, the only
practicable route, wild, dreary, and desolate, lay over steril rocky
mountains, over which, it was feared, a horse could not pass.

Finding that a singing-man was about to proceed by this road to
Sibidooloo, Park placed himself under his guidance, and quitted
Bammakoo. He had not proceeded far, however, before his companion,
finding that he had taken the wrong path, escaped among the rocks,
and left him to find his way how he might. He soon arrived at a
village, where he was entertained with hospitality, and where he
passed the night. Next day, as he was quietly pursuing his course,
a troop of peasants presented themselves, whom he at first took
for elephant-hunters, but who very shortly proved themselves to be
banditti. Pretending to arrest him in the name of the King of the
Foulahs, they commanded him to follow them, until, having reached a
dark lonely part of a wood, one of them exclaimed in the Mandingo
language, “This place will do!” and immediately snatched his hat from
his head. “Though I was by no means free from apprehension,” says Park,
“yet I was resolved to show as few signs of fear as possible; and
therefore told them, that unless my hat was returned to me I should
proceed no farther. But before I had time to receive an answer another
drew a knife, and, seizing upon a metal button which remained upon my
waistcoat, cut it off, and put it into his pocket. Their intentions
were now obvious; and I thought that the easier they were permitted
to rob me of every thing the less I had to fear. I therefore allowed
them to search my pockets without resistance, and examine every part
of my apparel, which they did with the most scrupulous exactness.
But, observing that I had one waistcoat under another, they insisted
that I should cast them both off; and at last, to make sure work,
stripped me quite naked. Even my half-boots, though the sole of one of
them was tied on to my foot with a broken bridle-rein, were minutely
inspected. While they were examining the plunder, I begged them with
great earnestness to return my pocket-compass; but when I pointed
it out to them, as it was lying on the ground, one of the banditti,
thinking I was about to take it up, cocked his musket, and swore he
would lay me dead upon the spot if I presumed to put my hand upon it.
After this, some of them went away with my horse, and the remainder
stood considering whether they should leave me quite naked, or allow me
something to shelter me from the sun. Humanity at last prevailed; they
returned me the worst of the two shirts and a pair of trousers; and, as
they went away, one of them threw back my hat, in the crown of which I
kept my memorandums; and this was probably the reason why they did not
wish to keep it.”

This was the most terrible misfortune that had hitherto befallen him,
and at first, his mind appeared to sink under the united influence
of grief and terror. For a while he sat in sullen dejection,
half-persuaded that he had no alternative but to lie down and perish.
Presently, however, thoughts of religion, and a reliance upon
Providence, succeeding this extreme dejection, his mind gradually
regained its fervent tone:--

“I was, indeed, a stranger,” he thought, “in a strange land; yet I was
still under the protecting eye of that Providence, who has condescended
to call himself the stranger’s friend. At this moment, painful as
my reflections were, the extraordinary beauty of a small moss in
fructification irresistibly caught my eye. I mention this to show from
what trifling circumstances the mind will sometimes derive consolation;
for though the whole plant was not larger than the top of one of my
fingers, I could not contemplate the delicate conformation of its
roots, leaves, and capsula without admiration. Can that Being (thought
I) who planted, watered, and brought to perfection, in this obscure
part of the world, a thing which appears of so small importance, look
with unconcern upon the situation and sufferings of creatures formed
after his own image? Surely not! Reflections like these would not allow
me to despair; I started up, and, disregarding both danger and fatigue,
travelled forwards, assured that relief was at hand; and I was not
disappointed.”

On arriving at Sibidooloo, Park related to the mansa, or chief of the
town, the misfortune which had befallen him. This humane and excellent
man, having heard him patiently to an end, took the pipe from his
mouth, and tossing up the sleeve of his coat with an indignant air,
“Sit down,” said he, “you shall have every thing restored to you; I
have sworn it.” He then took the necessary measures for the recovery of
the traveller’s property, and invited him to partake of his hospitable
fare until this should have been effected. After spending a few days at
this place, without hearing any news of his horse or other property,
our traveller removed to a distant village, where he remained until the
whole was discovered and restored to him, with the exception of his
pocket compass, which had been broken to pieces. Having nothing else to
bestow upon his hospitable landlords, he gave his horse to one, and his
saddle and bridle to the other: and then taking his leave, proceeded
on foot to Kamalia. At this town, romantically situated at the foot of
a lofty mountain, he found a slave-merchant, who, intending to descend
to the coast with a small caravan in the beginning of the dry season,
offered our traveller an asylum until he should set out. Conceiving
that it would be impossible to proceed during the rains, Park accepted
his kind proposal, and promised in return to give him the price of a
slave upon their arrival on the coast. Here a fever, which had for some
time menaced him, manifested itself with great violence, and continued
to torment him during the whole season of the rains. His landlord,
meanwhile, exerted himself to keep up his hopes, and having by some
means or another obtained possession of an English Common Prayer Book,
he communicated the use of it to Park, who was thus enabled to beguile
the gloomy hours of his solitude and sickness. At length the rains
became less frequent, and the fever abated, so that he could move out
to enjoy the fresh air in the fields.

On the 19th of April, Karfa, the slave-merchant, having collected his
slaves, and completed all necessary preparations, set out towards the
coast, taking our traveller, to whom his behaviour had always been
marked by the greatest kindness, along with him. Their road led them
across a vast wilderness, where the sufferings of every member of the
caravan, and more particularly of the slaves, were most exquisite; but
affliction was far from having taught them commiseration, for a fine
young female slave, fainting from fatigue, had no sooner signified
her inability to go on, than the universal cry of the caravan was,
“cut her throat, cut her throat.” By the interposition of Karfa her
life was spared, but she was abandoned on the road, where she was no
doubt soon devoured by wild beasts. At length, after a long, toilsome
journey, Karfa succeeded in fulfilling his promise, and conducted our
traveller safe to Pisania, where the good old man was overwhelmed with
the gratitude of his guest. Park now took his passage in an American
vessel, and on arriving in the West Indies, quitted this ship for a
packet bound for Falmouth, where he arrived on the 22d of December,
1797, after an absence of two years and seven months.

Immediately on his landing he hastened to London, where he arrived
before daylight on the morning of Christmas-day. It being too early an
hour to call on his brother-in-law, Mr. Dickson, he strolled about for
some time in the neighbouring streets. At length, finding one of the
entrances into the gardens of the British Museum accidentally open,
he went in and walked about there for some time. It happened that Mr.
Dickson, who had the care of those gardens, went there early that
morning on some trifling business. What must have been his emotions on
beholding, at that extraordinary time and place, the vision, as it must
at first have appeared, of his long lost friend, the object of so many
anxious reflections, and whom he had long numbered with the dead.

He was now received with distinguished honour by the African
Association, and the various literary men whom he met with in London.
In the mean time his travels, which the Association permitted him to
publish on his own account, were announced; and both during his stay
in London, and the visit which he paid to his friends in Scotland,
all his leisure hours were devoted to the compiling and arranging
of the materials for the work. It appeared in the spring of 1799,
and immediately acquired that degree of popularity which it has ever
since maintained. In the composition of his travels, however, he was
assisted by Bryan Edwards, author of a “History of the West Indies,”
an advocate of the slave-trade, in deference to whom Park is said
to have suppressed his own opinions, which had a contrary tendency.
The apology offered for this mean compliance is, that Bryan Edwards,
being secretary to the African Association, had it in his power
greatly to influence the future fortunes of our traveller. I should
prefer supposing that his arguments produced a temporary conviction
upon Park’s mind, unless some more convincing proof than has yet been
brought forward could be adduced to substantiate the accusation of so
remarkable a deficiency of moral courage in a man in whom, on all other
occasions, courage seemed to be the prevailing virtue.

However this may be, Park again returned to Scotland soon after the
publication of his travels, where, on the 2d of August, 1799, he
married one of the daughters of Mr. Anderson, of Selkirk, with whom
he had served his apprenticeship. He now seemed to have forgotten
his ambitious feelings, and for more than two years resided on the
farm at Fowlshiels, with his mother and one of his brothers. He then
removed to the town of Peebles, where he resumed the practice of his
profession, and seems, in a short time, to have acquired a good share
of the business of the place. But it will easily be imagined that the
quiet obscure life of a country surgeon could possess no charms for
an ardent ambitious mind like Park’s. He longed to be performing upon
some more stirring scene. In this dreary solitude, therefore, where
the indulgence of day-dreams would appear to have been his principal
amusement, scheme after scheme seems to have presented itself to his
mind, each giving way in its turn to another equally impracticable.
At length he received, through the medium of Sir Joseph Banks,
intelligence that the African Association were once more about to send
a mission into the interior of Africa, for the purpose of penetrating
to and navigating the Niger; and that, in case government should enter
into the plan, he himself would certainly be recommended as the person
proper to be employed for carrying it into execution.

Dilatoriness is too frequently the characteristic of the proceedings
of great public bodies. The first idea of this new mission was
conceived in 1801, but it was not until the beginning of 1805 that
the expedition was ultimately determined on, when Park received from
Lord Camden his appointment as its chief conductor. “For the better
enabling you to execute this service,” says his lordship, “his majesty
has granted you the brevet commission of captain in Africa, and has
also granted a similar commission of lieutenant to Mr. Alexander
Anderson, whom you have recommended as a proper person to accompany
you. Mr. Scott has also been selected to attend you as draughtsman. You
are hereby empowered to enlist with you for this expedition any number
you think proper of the garrison at Goree, not exceeding forty-five,
which the commandant of that island will be ordered to place under your
command, giving them such bounties or encouragement as may be necessary
to induce them cheerfully to join with you in the expedition.”

Five thousand pounds were at the same time placed at Park’s disposal,
and further directions given him respecting the course and line of
conduct he was expected to pursue. With these instructions Park and
his companions proceeded to Portsmouth, where they were joined by four
or five artificers, appointed for the service from the dock-yards.
They sailed on the 30th of January, and on the 28th of April arrived
at Pisania. Here they made preparations for entering the interior. The
party consisted of forty men, two lieutenants, a draughtsman, a guide,
and Park himself. Their provisions and merchandise were carried by
asses, and they had horses for themselves. Thus appointed, they left
Pisania on the 4th of May. It was very quickly discovered, however,
that their asses were unequal to the task imposed upon them; some lay
down, others kicked off their burdens, and it became necessary to
increase the number of these vicious animals.

At Bady, a town in the interior frontier of Woolli, they were led into
a quarrel with the farauba, or chief of the town, respecting the
amount of duties to be paid by their caravan, in which, though the
conduct of the African was rude and peremptory, the travellers were
clearly in the wrong. A few days after this affair the caravan had an
adventure with a new species of enemy. On the 24th of May they reached
a place which they denominated Bee’s Creek, where they halted with the
intention of encamping there. “We had no sooner unloaded the asses at
the creek,” says Park, “than some of Isaaco’s people, being in search
of honey, unfortunately disturbed a large swarm of bees near where the
coffle had halted. The bees came out in immense numbers, and attacked
men and beasts at the same time. Luckily, most of the asses were loose,
and galloped up the valley; but the horses and people were very much
stung, and obliged to scamper in all directions. The fire which had
been kindled for cooking, having been deserted, spread and set fire to
the bamboos; and our baggage had like to have been burnt. In fact, for
half an hour the bees seemed to have put an end to our journey.

“In the evening, when the bees became less troublesome, and we could
venture to collect our cattle, we found that many of them were very
much stung and swelled about the head. Three asses were missing; one
died in the evening and one next morning, and we were compelled to
leave one at Sibikillin; in all six: besides which, our guide lost his
horse, and many of the people were very much stung about the face and
hands.”

About the middle of June the rains began to set in, accompanied
by violent tornadoes. The earth was quickly covered with water.
The soldiers were affected with vomiting, or with an irresistible
inclination to sleep. Our traveller himself was affected in a similar
manner during the storm, and, notwithstanding that he used every
exertion to keep away heaviness, at length fell asleep on the damp
ground. The soldiers did the same thing. In the morning twelve of
them were sick. In this vicinity he saw many pits, from which gold was
obtained in large quantities by washing. As the caravan proceeded, many
of the soldiers growing delirious, or too weak to continue the march,
were left behind to the care of the natives; while others died on the
road, or were drowned in the rivers. Some, still more unfortunate if
possible, were lost in the woods, where they were no doubt devoured
by wild beasts. Meanwhile the natives, who imagined that the caravan
contained prodigious wealth, hung upon their march, plundered them
at every turn, and as often as they appeared too weak to resist,
endeavoured to extort presents from them.

The condition of the men now became desperate. Day after day some poor
wretch was abandoned to his fate, some in one way, some in another.
I give one example which may serve for the whole. “Three miles east
of the village of Koombandi,” says Park, “William Alston, one of the
seamen whom I received from his majesty’s ship Squirrel, became so
faint that he fell from his ass, and allowed the ass to run away.
Set him on my horse, but found he could not sit without holding him.
Replaced him on the ass, but he still tumbled off. Put him again on the
horse, and made one man hold him upright while I led the horse; but, as
he made no exertion to hold himself erect, it was impossible to keep
him on the horse, and after repeated tumbles he begged to be left in
the woods till morning. I left a loaded pistol with him, and put some
cartridges into the crown of his hat.”

In crossing the Wondu the caravan was nearly deprived of its guide in
the following manner: “Our guide, Isaaco, was very active in pushing
the asses into the water, and shoving along the canoe; but as he was
afraid that we could not have them all carried over in the course of
the day, he attempted to drive six of the asses across the river
farther down, where the water was shallower. When he had reached the
middle of the river, a crocodile rose close to him, and instantly
seizing him by the left thigh, pulled him under water. With wonderful
presence of mind he felt the head of the animal, and thrust his finger
into its eye, on which it quitted its hold, and Isaaco attempted to
reach the farther shore, calling loudly for a knife. But the crocodile
returned and seized him by the other thigh, and again pulled him under
water; he had recourse to the same expedient, and thrust his fingers
into its eyes with such violence that it again quitted him; when it
arose, flounced about on the surface of the water as if stupid, and
then swam down the middle of the river. Isaaco proceeded to the other
side, bleeding very much.”

This event retarded for several days the march of the caravan. Besides,
Park himself was attacked with fever, and their provisions, moreover,
were now reduced to so low an ebb, that upon examination it was found
that no more than rice for two days remained in their possession. This
deficiency was, therefore, to be immediately supplied. Two persons
were sent away with an ass to a distant village for rice, and in the
mean time our traveller devoted his attentions to the wounds of the
guide. The sailor who had been abandoned in the woods here rejoined
the caravan quite naked, having been robbed of his clothes by the
natives. The audacity of these thieves was extraordinary. In ascending
an eminence two miles from Maniakono, Park himself was robbed in a very
characteristic manner:--“As I was holding my musket carelessly in my
hand, and looking round,” says he, “two of Numma’s sons came up to me;
one of them requested me to give him some snuff; at this instant the
other (called Woosaba), coming up behind me, snatched the musket from
my hand, and ran off with it. I instantly sprung from the saddle and
followed him with my sword, calling to Mr. Anderson to ride back, and
tell some of the people to look after my horse. Mr. Anderson got within
musket-shot of him; but, seeing it was Numma’s son, had some doubts
about shooting him, and called to me if he should fire. Luckily I did
not hear him, or I might possibly have recovered my musket at the risk
of a long palaver, and perhaps the loss of half our baggage. The thief
accordingly made his escape among the rocks; and when I returned to my
horse, I found the other of the royal descendants had stolen my coat.”

Their condition was now exceedingly distressing. Not only the soldiers
and sailors, but Scott and Anderson began to lag behind, being attacked
by fever, the first effect of which in those countries is to deprive
the sufferer of his energies. Having remained for some time by the
wayside with his dying friend, he placed him, when his strength
appeared for a moment to return, upon his horse, and pushed forward
towards their proposed halting-place, leading the horse by the bridle.
“We had not proceeded above a mile,” says Park, “before we heard on our
left a noise very much like the barking of a large mastiff, but ending
in a hiss like the fuff[1] of a cat. I thought it must be some large
monkey; and was observing to Mr. Anderson, ‘What a bouncing fellow that
must be,’ when we heard another bark nearer to us, and presently a
third still nearer, accompanied with a growl. I now suspected some wild
beast meant to attack us, but could not conjecture of what species it
was likely to be. We had not proceeded a hundred yards farther, when,
coming to an opening in the bushes, I was not a little surprised to
see three lions coming towards us. They were not so red as the lion I
had formerly seen in Bambarra, but of a dusky colour, like that of an
ass. They were very large, and came bounding over the long grass, not
one after another, but all abreast of each other. I was afraid, if I
allowed them to come too near us, and my piece should miss fire, that
we should all be devoured by them. I therefore let go the bridle, and
walked forwards to meet them. As soon as they were within a long shot
of me, I fired at the centre one. I do not think I hit him; but they
all stopped, looked at each other, and then bounded away a few paces,
when one of them stopped and looked back at me. I was too busy in
loading my piece to observe their motions as they went away, and was
very happy to see the last of them march slowly off among the bushes.
We had not proceeded above half a mile farther when we heard another
bark and growl close to us among the bushes. This was, doubtless, one
of the lions before seen; and I was afraid they would follow us till
dark, when they would have too many opportunities of springing on us
unawares. We however heard no more of them.”

[1] _Fuff_ is an expressive Scotch word, applicable in its original
sense to the explosive noise which a cat makes in flying at a dog.

At length, from the brow of a hill, Park had once more the satisfaction
of beholding the Niger, rolling its immense stream along the plain.
But he was in no mood of mind to triumph at the sight. The majority
of his companions had fallen on the way; of thirty-four soldiers
and four carpenters who left the Gambia, only six soldiers and one
carpenter reached the Niger. With this miserable remnant of his
original force he descended the hill, and pitched his tents near
the town of Bambakoo. Here some of the party
embarked in canoes on the Niger, while others proceeded by land to the
neighbourhood of Sego, which they reached on the 19th of September.
Mansong was still king of Bambarra; and being highly gratified with
their presents, not only gave them permission to build a boat on the
Niger at whatever town they pleased, but engaged to protect, as far
as his power extended, the trade of the whites in the interior. Park
selected Sansanding as the place most eligible for building the boat,
and removed thither as quickly as possible. Here immediately on his
arrival he opened a shop, exhibiting a choice assortment of European
goods, which sold so well among the natives that his success excited
the envy of the Jinnic people, the Moors, and the other merchants of
the place, who offered Mansong merchandise to a much greater value than
the presents made him by Park, if he would either kill the strangers or
drive them out of the country. Mansong, however, rejected the offer.
“From the 8th to the 16th nothing of consequence occurred; I found my
shop every day more and more crowded with customers; and such was my
run of business, that I was sometimes forced to employ three tellers
at once to count my cash. I turned one market-day twenty-five thousand
seven hundred and fifty-six pieces of money (cowries).”

Park now received intelligence of the death of Mr. Scott, who had been
left behind near Bambakoo. Mansong very soon convinced the traveller
that he understood the art of receiving presents much better than that
of returning them; for upon being requested to furnish a canoe in
which the mission, now reduced to a very small number, might embark
on the Niger, he sent one after another several half-rotten barks;
two of which Park, seeing no hope of getting better, was at length
compelled to accept, and with these he constructed what he termed a
schooner. Shortly after this he lost his friend Anderson, upon whose
death “I felt myself,” says he, “as if left a second time lonely and
friendless amid the wilds of Africa.” Dreary and perilous as was his
position, however, he still determined to persevere. His companions
were now reduced to four, Lieutenant Martyn and three soldiers, one
of whom was deranged in his mind; yet with this wretched remnant of
a detachment which, it must be confessed, had been thus thinned, or
rather annihilated, by his own ill management and want of foresight, he
purposed following the course of the Niger to its termination, whether
that should prove to be in some great lake or inland sea, or, as he
rather believed, in the Atlantic Ocean. And this voyage, says one of
his biographers, one of the most formidable ever attempted, was to be
undertaken in a crazy and ill-appointed vessel, manned by a few negroes
and a few Europeans!

On the 16th of November, having completed all the necessary
preparations for his voyage, our traveller put the finishing hand to
his journal; and in the interval between that and his embarkation,
which seems to have taken place on the 19th, wrote several letters to
England. These letters, together with the journal, were then delivered
to his guide Isaaco, by whom they were conveyed to the Gambia, from
whence they were transmitted to England; after which nothing certain
or authentic can be said to have been heard either of Park or the
expedition. In 1806, however, vague accounts of the death of Park and
his companions were brought to the British settlements on the coast by
the native traders from the interior; but several years elapsed without
any further intelligence being obtained. At length, in 1810, Colonel
Maxwell, governor of Senegal, despatched Park’s guide, Isaaco, into the
interior, for the purpose of ascertaining the truth or falsehood of the
reports which prevailed, and, should they prove correct, of collecting
information respecting the place and manner of the catastrophe.

After an absence of one year and eight months Isaaco returned to
Senegal, and delivered to the governor a journal of his proceedings,
including a narrative which he had received from Amadi Fatouma,
the guide who accompanied Park from Sansanding down the Niger. The
particulars of Isaaco’s adventures it is altogether unnecessary to
describe. He found Amadi Fatouma at Madina, a village distant a few
hours from Sansanding. On seeing Isaaco, and hearing the name of Park,
he began to weep; and his first words were, “They are all dead.” The
recollection of the melancholy transaction appeared to affect him in
an extraordinary manner, and it was with the utmost reluctance that
he at length consented to recall to memory an event which he seemed
peculiarly desirous of delivering over to oblivion. However, upon the
pressing entreaties of Isaaco, he narrated circumstantially what had
taken place. Upon leaving Sansanding, there were, he said, nine persons
in the canoe; Park, Martyn, three other white men, three slaves, and
himself as their guide and interpreter. They had proceeded but a very
little way down the river before they were pursued and attacked by the
Africans in canoes, particularly in passing Timbuctoo, where a great
number of the natives were killed. Shortly after passing Goronmo, they
lost one white man by sickness. They were now, therefore, reduced to
eight; but as each person had always fifteen muskets loaded and ready
for action, they were still formidable to their enemies.

As Park had laid in a considerable quantity of provisions previous to
his leaving Sansanding, he was enabled to proceed for several days
without stopping at any place, which is the only circumstance that
can account for his passing in safety through the country of so many
hostile nations. At length, however, their wants compelled them to have
some communication with the shore. “We came,” says Amadi Fatouma, “near
a small island, and saw some of the natives; I was sent on shore to buy
some milk. When I got among them, I saw two canoes go on board to sell
fresh provisions, such as fowls, rice, &c. One of the natives wanted to
kill me, and at last he took hold of me, and said I was his prisoner.
Mr. Park, seeing what was passing on shore, suspected the truth. He
stopped the two canoes and people; telling the latter, that if they
should kill me, or keep me prisoner on shore, he would kill them all,
and carry their canoes away with him. Those on shore, suspecting Mr.
Park’s intentions, sent me off in another canoe on board; they were
then released: after which we bought some provisions from them, and
made them some presents. A short time after our departure twenty canoes
came after us from the same place; on coming near, they hailed, and
said, ‘Amadi Fatouma, how can you pass through our country without
giving us any thing?’ I mentioned what they had said to Mr. Park, and
he gave them a few grains of amber and some trinkets, and they went
back peaceably. On coming to a narrow part of the river, we saw on the
shore a great many men sitting down; coming nearer to them they stood
up; we presented our muskets to them, which made them run off into the
interior. A little farther on we came to a very difficult passage. The
rocks had barred the river, but three passages were still open between
them. On coming near one of them, we discovered the same people again,
standing on the top of a large rock; which caused great uneasiness to
us, especially to me, and I seriously promised never to pass there
again without making considerable charitable donations to the poor. We
returned, and went to a pass of less danger, where we passed unmolested.

“We came-to before Carmassee, and gave the chief one piece of baft.
We went on, and anchored before Gourman. Mr. Park sent me on shore
with forty thousand cowries to buy provisions. I went and bought rice,
onions, fowls, milk, &c., and departed late in the evening. The chief
of the village sent a canoe after us, to let us know of a large army
encamped on the top of a very high mountain, waiting for us; and that
we had better return, or be on our guard. We immediately came to an
anchor, and spent there the rest of the day and all the night. We
started in the morning; on passing the abovementioned mountain we saw
the army, composed of Moors with horses and camels, but without any
firearms. As they said nothing to us we passed on quietly, and entered
the country of Haoussa, and came to an anchor. Mr. Park said to me,
‘Now, Amadi, you are at the end of your journey: I engaged you to
conduct me here; you are going to leave me; but before you go you must
give me the names of the necessaries of life, &c., in the language of
the countries through which I am going to pass;’ to which I agreed, and
we spent two days together about it without landing. During our voyage
I was the only one who had landed. We departed, and arrived at Yaour. I
was sent on shore the next morning with a musket and a sabre to carry
to the chief of the village; also with three pieces of white baft for
distribution. I went and gave the chief his present: I also gave one
to Alhagi, one to Alhagibiron, and the other to a person whose name
I forget; all Marabons. The chief gave us a bullock, a sheep, three
jars of honey, and four men’s loads of rice. Mr. Park gave me seven
thousand cowries, and ordered me to buy provisions, which I did; he
told me to go to the chief, and give him five silver rings, some powder
and flints, and tell him that these presents were given to the king
by the white men, who were taking leave of him before they went away.
After the chief had received these things, he inquired if the white
men intended to come back. Mr. Park, being informed of this inquiry,
replied that he could not return any more.[2] Mr. Park had paid me
for my voyage before we left Sansanding: I said to him, ‘I agreed to
carry you into the kingdom of Haoussa; we are now in Haoussa. I have
fulfilled my engagement with you; I am therefore going to leave you
here and return.’”

[2] These words occasioned his death; for the certainty of Mr. Park not
returning induced the chief to withhold the presents from the king.

On the next day Park departed, leaving the guide at the village
of Yaour, where he was put in irons by order of the king, from a
supposition that he had aided the white men in defrauding him of the
customary presents, which the chief of Yaour had in fact received, but
retained for himself. “The next morning, early,” continues the guide,
“the king sent an army to a village called Boussa, near the river-side.
There is before this village a rock across the whole breadth of the
river. One part of the rock is very high; there is a large opening in
that rock in the form of a door, which is the only passage for the
water to pass through; the tide current is here very strong. This army
went and took possession of the top of this opening. Mr. Park came
there after the army had posted itself; he nevertheless attempted to
pass. The people began to attack him, throwing lances, pikes, arrows,
and stones. Mr. Park defended himself for a long time; two of his
slaves at the stern of the canoe were killed; they threw every thing
they had in the canoe into the river, and kept firing; but being
overpowered by numbers, and fatigued, and unable to keep up the canoe
against the current, and no probability of escaping, Mr. Park took hold
of one of the white men and jumped into the water; Martyn did the same,
and they were drowned in the stream in attempting to escape. The only
slave remaining in the boat, seeing the natives persist in throwing
weapons at the canoe without ceasing, stood up and said to them, ‘Stop
throwing now, you see nothing in the canoe, and nobody but myself;
therefore cease. Take me and the canoe, but don’t kill me.’ They took
possession of the canoe and the man, and carried them to the king.

“I was kept in irons three months; the king released me, and gave me a
slave (woman). I immediately went to the slave taken in the canoe, who
told me in what manner Mr. Park and all of them had died, and what I
have related above. I asked him if he was sure nothing had been found
in the canoe after its capture; he said nothing remained in the canoe
but himself and a sword-belt. I asked him where the sword-belt was; he
said the king took it, and had made a girth for his horse with it.”

Such is the narrative of Amadi Fatouma; and the information since
obtained in the country by Captain Clapperton corroborates almost every
important circumstance which it describes. It appears, however, that
certain books (whether printed or manuscript does not appear) were
found in Park’s canoe, some of which were still in the possession of
the chief of Yaour when Clapperton made his inquiries; but the wily
African, who no doubt expected a valuable present for these relics,
refused to deliver them to our traveller’s messenger, and Clapperton
himself, for some reason or another not stated, neglected to visit
this chief in person. It should be remarked, that the Africans who
were questioned by Clapperton seemed all exceedingly desirous of
exculpating their countrymen, perhaps their own friends and relations,
from the charge of having murdered Park and his companions: according
to one narrator, the canoe was caught between two rocks, where the
river, being obstructed in its course, rushed through its narrow
channel with prodigious rapidity. Here the travellers, in attempting
to disembark, were drowned in the sight of an immense multitude who
had assembled to see them pass, and were too timid to attack or assist
them. On another occasion, however, the same person confessed that his
countrymen did indeed discharge their arrows at the travellers, but
not until they had been fired upon from the canoe. But the sheriff of
Bokhary, whose letter was found among the MSS. of Clapperton, asserts
that the inhabitants of Boussa went out against the white men in
great numbers, and attacked them during three successive days; after
which Park and Martyn, who from this account would appear to have
been the only European survivors, threw their papers and baggage into
the water, and leaping in after them were drowned in the stream. It
would answer no useful purpose to push these inquiries any further at
present, as we in reality possess no sufficient materials for coming
to any definite conclusion. There can be no doubt that Mungo Park
perished on the Niger, near Boussa, or that the Africans were the
cause, mediate or immediate, of his death. His character will be best
understood by a careful examination of his life; but it may be useful
to remark, in conclusion, that, although his natural prudence seems
partly to have forsaken him during his second journey, few men have
possessed in a higher degree the virtues of a traveller--intrepidity,
enthusiasm, perseverance, veracity, prudence; his manners, likewise,
though somewhat too stiff and reserved, must upon the whole have been
agreeable, since he was able both in civilized and savage countries
to gain and preserve many friends; among whom by far the most
distinguished was Sir Walter Scott, with whom, during the interval
between his two journeys, he lived on terms of the greatest intimacy.



PETER SIMON PALLAS.

Born 1741.--Died 1811.


This traveller, whose works are comparatively little known in England,
was born at Berlin, September 22, 1741. His father, who was an
able surgeon, entertained the design of educating him for his own
profession; and at the same time caused him to learn several languages.
At a very early age he was able, therefore, to write the Latin, the
English, the French, and the German. His retentive memory rendered
these acquirements so easy, that his great success in this department
of knowledge scarcely at all interfered with his progress in others;
so that he is said to have likewise maintained among his schoolfellows
the pre-eminence in all their various studies. He was, in fact, by no
means satisfied with what was taught him by his different masters, but
employed his leisure hours in the study of natural history; and at the
age of fifteen he had already imagined ingenious divisions of several
classes of animals.

Having attended at Berlin the courses of Gleditsch, Mekhel, and
Roloff, and those of Vogel and Rœderer at Göttingen, he proceeded
to Leyden, to finish his studies under Albinus, Gaubins, and
Musschenbroeck. The rarest productions of nature had been for two
centuries accumulating in Holland by the commerce of the whole world;
and it was therefore impossible that the ardent passion of Pallas
for natural history should not be still further excited by living
in the midst of them. But perhaps we attribute too much influence
to the force of circumstances. The soul, with all its tastes and
passions, is far more independent of external things than is generally
supposed. Concomitance is not causation. The energy of the mind derives
sustenance, as it were, from circumstances; but the effect of this
nourishment is determined by its own original character, just as it is
determined by the innate qualities of the scorpion, or the bee, whether
the vegetable juices which they extract from the plants of the field
shall be converted into poison or into nectar. However this may be,
Pallas afterward visited England, where a commerce more extensive than
had ever been carried on by any other nation, ancient or modern, must
likewise have collected immense treasures in natural history, which
afforded him a fortunate occasion for improving his knowledge. The
sight of these scientific riches seems, in reality, to have determined
him to waive all claim to professional emolument or honours, for
the purpose of devoting himself entirely to natural history; and he
obtained his father’s permission to settle at the Hague, with a view of
continuing his studies.

Here, in 1776, he published his “Elenchus Zoophytorum,” the first of
his “great works,” to adopt the expression of M. Eyriès, which, for an
author of twenty-five, was a remarkable performance. The “Miscellanea
Zoologica,” which was published the same year, still further augmented
his reputation. This work (I still borrow the language of the French
geographer) threw a new light upon the least known classes of the
animal kingdom, those which had hitherto been confounded together under
the name of worms. These two publications carried far and wide the
name of their author, and several governments sought to monopolize his
talents. He would probably have given the preference to that of his
own country, had he received from it the least encouragement; but, as
too often happens, says M. Cuvier, it was at home that he was least
respected. He therefore resolved to desert his country, and accepted
a place in the Academy of St. Petersburg, which was offered him by
Catherine II. Pallas’s private circumstances are nowhere, so far as I
have been able to discover, properly explained. I know not, therefore,
whether extreme poverty or vulgar cupidity determined him to take this
step; but I cannot, without pain, contemplate men of abilities running
about the world in search of wealth, ready to snatch at it from any
hand, and no less ready, however base may be the donor, to repay the
dishonourable obligation by despicable flattery and adulation. For this
reason, in spite of the profound veneration with which I regard every
thing like genius, which appears to be a spark of the Divine nature
fallen from heaven, I cannot help considering Pallas as a learned and
ingenious slave, cringing at the foot of power, and willing to perform
all things at its bidding.

Catherine, it is well known, was desirous that some of her own
barbarians should observe in Siberia the transit of Venus over
the sun’s disk in 1769, and not, as in 1763, leave the honour to
foreigners. She therefore selected a number of astronomers from the
Academy of St. Petersburg, and joined with them several naturalists,
whose business it was to examine the nature of the productions and soil
in this remote province of the empire. They were, in fact, instructed
to make the most exact researches on the nature of the soil; on that
of the waters; on the means of cultivating the deserts; on the actual
state of agriculture; the diseases which chiefly prevailed among men
and beasts; the means of curing or preventing them; the manner of
rearing bees, silkworms, and cattle; minerals, and mineral waters; the
arts, trades, and other industrious processes of each province; the
plants, animals, the interior and the form of mountains; and, in short,
on all the objects of natural history. The geography of the country,
the manners of its inhabitants, and the traditions and monuments of
antiquity were likewise included.

Such was the enterprise to engage in which Pallas was invited into
Russia. In the midst of the numerous preparations required for so long
and arduous a journey, he found leisure to compose several new works
(for he possessed, and was vain of, a great facility in writing),
which, in the opinion of naturalists, were full of interesting views;
among others he presented to the academy his famous memoir on the bones
of large quadrupeds discovered in Siberia, in which he proves that the
remains of elephants, rhinoceroses, buffaloes, and many other kinds of
animals now peculiar to the south, were found in those northern regions.

The expedition was composed of seven astronomers and geometricians,
five naturalists, and several pupils, who were to direct their course
in various directions over the immense country which they were about to
explore. Pallas left Petersburg on the 21st of June, 1768. The great
road to Moscow, which traverses a part of Ingria, affords nothing
interesting either to the traveller or the naturalist. Having passed
Tosna, they entered a forest of pines and birch-trees, where, owing
to the marshy nature of the soil, every spot which had been cleared
of wood swarmed with gadflies. He passed through, but made no stay at
Novogorod, and then pushed on to Bronitzkoi. The river which passes
through this town abounds in salmon-trout, which descend from the lake
of Ilman, visible from the neighbouring hill. The road here affords a
view of several ancient tombs, which our traveller did not pause to
examine.

At a short distance beyond Saisovo, he crossed the Jemlin, in which
pearl-muscles are found; and, hurrying along impatiently, arrived at
Moscow on the 4th of July. This city, which had so often been visited
and described by others, possessed so few attractions for him that
he would willingly have quitted it immediately; but his vehicles,
shattered by the badness of the roads, paved in some instances with
trees, and cracked by the heat of the sun, required reparation; other
causes of delay occurred, and he was therefore detained here many days.
To amuse himself a little, and blunt the point of his impatience, he
made several short excursions in the environs, where he was greatly
struck at finding on all sides numerous petrifactions of marine
substances. The river Moskwa produces an abundance of marine sponges,
with which the Russian women rub their cheeks, instead of paint.
Attempts were even then making to raise the genuine rhubarb in the
environs of Moscow.

From this city he set out for Vlodimir. But little care was then taken
in Russia to provide travellers with good horses, since even the
members of this expedition were sometimes scarcely able to proceed on
account of the badness of their beasts. Vlodimir, formerly an extensive
city, according to the traditions of the country, is picturesquely
situated upon several small hills, and surrounded by cherry-orchards,
the produce of which is the chief means of subsistence possessed by
the inhabitants. At Kassinof Pallas found the descendants of several
Tartar princes, who were now engaged in the fur trade, and possessed of
considerable riches. They were of the Mohammedan religion, and were at
that time rebuilding a fallen mosque, by permission of the government.

At a small village on the banks of the Oka he saw a great number of
goitres, whose deformity he supposed to arise from the quality of
the water. On the banks of the Piana he found, in a small scattered
village, several descendants of the Mordwans, who, having been
converted to Christianity, had lost almost all traces of their ancient
manners. These, according to Pallas, were at that time the filthiest
people in the Russian empire, which was a bold thing to say; but they
were good husbandmen, and their women, though ugly, were exceedingly
laborious, which our traveller, no doubt, regarded as a superior
quality to beauty.

About the middle of September the cold was already considerable, rain
and snow were frequent, and the severe frosts commenced. Having passed
the Soura, they entered into an immense forest, where he observed wild
cabbages on the banks of the river. Here they saw the beehives of the
Mordwans, which were left all the winter in the forests with a very
slender covering; and, among their flocks, several mules produced
between the goat and the sheep. The peasants of these woody districts
were principally employed in making tar. On the 22d of September
they reached Simbirsk, on the Volga, where they were detained within
doors for some days by a tremendous storm. They then issued forth
upon their various pursuits; and, among other places, Pallas visited
the sulphurous springs which are found near the Sargout. One of those
springs was formerly of considerable extent, and furnished large
quantities of sulphur, but it had then disappeared. The other formed
a little marsh on the left bank of the stream. Even in the depth of
winter, the water of the spring never froze, and at all times a thin
sulphury vapour hung like a light cloud over its surface.

The season being now too far advanced to allow them to proceed on their
journey, they determined to pass the winter at Simbirsk, from whence
they departed on the following March towards Siberia. In fact, they
were weary of their residence at Simbirsk long before the winter was
over; and Pallas, having been given a charming picture of the environs
of Samara, removed thither with his companions on sledges. Near this
town, in the bed of a small stream which falls into the Sviaga, were
found numerous remains of the skeletons of elephants, among which were
several tusks very slightly injured by time, from the ivory of which
various beautiful articles were wrought. Here our traveller continued
during the whole month of April, in which time he examined whatever
was remarkable in the environs; and then, on the 2d of May, proceeded
towards the south, to Sizran on the Volga.

The heat at this place during almost the whole of May was nearly
insupportable; the clouds gathered together, and, extending themselves
in a thick canopy over the sky, appeared to promise rain, while the
thermometer continued rising from 105 to 110 degrees in the shade; so
that, in a place situated in the same latitude as Caernarvon in North
Wales, a heat equal to that of Calcutta in July was experienced in the
spring. So high a temperature of the atmosphere was probably unusual,
as it alarmed the peasantry for their crops; and processions, offering
up solemn prayers for rain, were beheld throughout the country.

Proceeding thence towards Perevoloka, our traveller beheld on the way
a village which on the evening before his arrival had been nearly
unroofed by a hurricane. The vast chalky plains on the banks of the
Volga had now been almost entirely stripped of vegetation by the sun,
and the heat in those places which were bare of trees was tremendous.
At the foot of a small range of hills which traverse these stepps
Pallas conjectured that the vine would succeed admirably. On drawing
near the Volga they found numerous lofty hills, some of which were
exceedingly well wooded, while barrenness dwelt upon the others; and
the narrow defiles which divided them were filled with tarantula-holes,
and the burrows of the marmot, which was seen sitting at the mouth of
its retreat uttering piercing cries.

On a solitary spot at a short distance from the Volga Pallas visited
a large tomb, which he found had formerly been opened by avaricious
treasure-seekers; but their excavations, like the tomb itself, were now
covered with a thick underwood, and were therefore of ancient date. The
excursions of our traveller in various directions from Samara, which
was his head-quarters, were numerous, and his discoveries in natural
history would seem to have been no less so; but he passed from place
to place with the utmost safety and despatch, as we travel from London
to Bath; and therefore, however valuable may have been his scientific
labours, the events of one day too nearly resembled those of the
preceding not to cause the utmost monotony in his history.

Near Bouzoulouk, on the river Samara, were found numerous ancient tombs
resembling those of the Grecian heroes on the shores of the Hellespont.
Copper or golden-headed arrows were sometimes found on opening these
burrows; and on one occasion the treasure-seekers were rewarded by
the discovery of a chain of gold round the neck of a skeleton. The
bones of the dead indicated a gigantic stature. On arriving at one
of the principal fortresses on the line of the Jaik, Pallas visited
the Bashkir and Kalmuc camps, where he was amused with a concert in
the old national style. The songs of the Kalmucs, like those of more
refined nations, were chiefly of love. Their instruments, though
rude, were not unpleasing. They likewise exhibited their strength in
the wrestling-ring, and their dexterity in the use of the bow. The
Bashkirs also displayed their skill in archery, and danced several
Tartar dances. Here Pallas observed the largest marsh-flies he had
ever seen,--six inches in length by three and a half in breadth. In
travelling along the Jaik it was found necessary to move under the
protection of an escort of Cossacks, as the Kirghees, a hostile nation,
were encamped in groups along the banks of the river. On the 1st of
July, 1769, he arrived at Orenburg.

In this city our traveller enjoyed an opportunity of observing the
manners of the Kirghees. These people purchased annually from the
Russians a number of golden eagles, used by their hunters in the chase
of the wolf, the fox, and the gazelle, and would sometimes give a horse
in exchange for one of these birds, while others were hardly valued at
a sheep, or even a small piece of money. During his stay at Orenburg he
visited the great salt-mines of Hetzkain, and learned the laborious and
ingenious methods by which the fossil salt is extracted from the bowels
of the earth. The mines are chiefly worked in summer, and the salt,
being left to accumulate until the winter months, is then transported
to distant places by the peasantry. In these solitary regions he saw
a caravan of thirty camels returning from China, having crossed the
vast deserts of Central Asia, where both men and animals had nearly
perished for want, in consequence of the excessive heat of the summer.
From thence he proceeded to the Jasper Mountains, where many stones
were found beautifully variegated; some representing, when split,
the figures of trees upon their surfaces, while others were dotted
with spots of different colours. On the summits of these mountains he
beheld numerous Kirgheesian tombs constructed with prodigious blocks of
jasper, with more than imperial magnificence.

From Orenburg he descended along the course of the Jaik, through a
mountainous country, intersected by numerous ravines, and of a wild,
desolate aspect. Near Kalmikova, on the eastern shore of the Jaik, he
saw a Kirghees camp. When the party drew near, about the close of the
day, the Kirghees seemed terrified at their approach; but were soon
reassured upon observing their pacific disposition. They then crowded
round them with joyful faces, and, bringing forth their koumiss,
or prepared mare’s milk, enabled several of Pallas’s attendants to
steep their senses in forgetfulness. Still, our honest travellers,
conscious, perhaps, that the Kirghees had some injuries to revenge
against the Russians, were fearful of passing the night in the camp,
and therefore hastened to return before dark to the city. Thence he
continued proceeding in a southern direction to the ruins of Sarai, of
which the ditch and the rampart are nearly all that now remain. It sunk
gradually with the decay of the Tartar power, until the inhabitants
at length emigrated to Chiva, and allowed it to fall entirely. The
road from thence to Gourief, on the Caspian, lies over a dry marsh,
where nothing but a few red wild-flowers meet the eye. Here Pallas
embarked in a boat with a Mons. Euler, in order to visit a small island
in the Caspian, the waters of which were of a grayish green, though
the sailors assured them that the colour farther out at sea was a
greenish black. It was said, that during summer phosphoric fires were
occasionally beheld upon its waves.

Having examined the embouchure of the Jaik, and the neighbouring coast
of the Caspian Sea, Pallas returned northward, and set up his quarters
for the winter of 1769 at Oufa, situated on the river Belaia. Here he
employed the time not spent in travelling in working up his journal.
The winter unfortunately happened to be peculiarly bad; and this,
united with the melancholy situation of the city, and the bad air
which prevails there, prevented him from deriving all the advantages
which might have been expected from so long a residence. To increase
the dulness and insipidity of his stay, he was kept almost a prisoner
in the city until the month of May by continual inundations. In all
other respects, likewise, the winter was unfavourable. It commenced
with September, and continued increasing in rigour until the end of
November, when they were visited by terrible tempests, in which several
travellers perished on the downs of Orenburg. These continued during
the whole of December. January was less severe, and February mild. The
winter ended in March, the thaw commenced with April, and then the
country was overflowed.

Pallas had passed so unpleasant a winter at Oufa, that he saw the time
of departure approach with the greatest satisfaction; and, as soon as
the overflowing of the rivers had ceased, despatched a soldier before
him across the Ural Mountains into the province of Isetsk, with orders
to cause the roads and bridges to be repaired. He himself followed on
the 16th of May. The weather, notwithstanding the advanced season of
the year, was overcast and stormy, with a north-west wind; it hailed,
snowed, and rained at intervals; but this did not continue long. In
the course of the day he passed by a vast chasm, formed by the sliding
of strata from their basis, and by the inhabitants denominated “the
bottomless pit.” Here the people had three years before cast the
carcasses of all those animals which had died of the murrain, which
brought thither a prodigious number of famished and furious wild dogs,
and thus rendered the road so dangerous that it was found necessary to
send out an armed detachment against them.

The road now entered an immense forest, in which the Russians, in
imitation of the Bashkirs, kept great numbers of beehives, which were
hollowed out in the trunks of large trees, about five or six fathoms
from the ground. This is intended as one of the means of protecting
the hives against the bears; for which purpose they likewise carefully
cut off all the lower branches of the tree, and smooth every knot.
However, as the bear is too able a climber to be thus discouraged,
they, in addition to these common precautions, fix a kind of circle of
sharp knives or scythes round the tree, a little below the hive, which
either prevents the animal from ascending, or impales him when he would
return. But there are some old bears too experienced to be thus caught,
who strike out the spikes with their paws. Against these other means
are resorted to. In the first place, they fix a kind of catapult aloft
on the tree, with a cord suspended, which, when the animal touches, an
arrow is darted down with great vehemence, which transfixes him in the
breast. Another method is, to suspend a plank horizontally on some of
the long branches by cords, in such a manner that it can be drawn at
will before the mouth of the hive, to which it is fastened by a knot
of pliable bark. Upon this plank the bear seats himself in order to
work at the hive. He then commences by loosening the knot, upon which
the plank becomes what boys call a “see-saw;” and the bear is either
precipitated in a moment to the ground, where he is impaled upon sharp
stakes fixed there for the purpose, or, if he does not fall, he is
compelled to leap, or wait trembling on the plank until the owner of
the hive arrives and shoots him at his ease.

Having traversed the country of the Moursalarki Bashkirs, our traveller
visited a small volcano, around which every thing was in full flower
and further advanced than elsewhere, on account of the internal
heat. This volcano was not of ancient date. Many persons then living
remembered the storm during which a thunderbolt fell upon a great
pine-tree, which, taking fire and burning rapidly to the very roots,
kindled the mountain, which had thenceforward continued on fire. The
neighbouring forests were wholly consumed by the conflagration. At this
time the fire seemed to have retired into the centre of the mountain,
where it raged with prodigious violence, occasionally bursting forth
through the wide fissures of the superincumbent crust, which it was
gradually calcining to powder. The view of the volcano during a stormy
night was sublime. Broad openings or cracks, commencing at the summit
of the cone, spread themselves like the veins of a leaf down the
side, branching forth in many directions, as from a trunk; and these,
contrasted with the dark mass of the mountain, and emitting light-red
flames through all their extent, appeared like so many perpetual
streams of lightning in a thunder-cloud.

In traversing a forest in this district after a terrible hurricane,
Pallas found the ground strewed with small branches of poplar, the
extremities of which furnish a finer and more silky cotton than that of
Egypt or Bengal. Whether the Russian government has ever attended to
the suggestion of this naturalist, in substituting this cotton for the
ordinary species, I have not been able to learn. The route through the
forests and mountains which border the Aural in this direction was by
no means very pleasing. Pallas loved smooth roads, good inns, and good
dinners. He was therefore particularly annoyed when, in making towards
a mountain said to abound in aluminous slate, he found his guide at
fault in the woods, where, after wandering about for some time, they
were overtaken by a tempest. The sky suddenly grew dark, and their way
lying among rugged rocks of enormous magnitude, the passage between
which was frequently blocked up by trees which the hurricane had
overthrown, their horses refused to proceed. Besides, the darkness was
now so great that they could not see before them, and it was therefore
necessary to pass the night where they were. To make their lodgings
as comfortable as they could, they selected the tops of the highest
rocks, which were somewhat drier than the rest of the forest. Had they
possessed a tinder-box, it would have been easy to kindle a fire, by
which they might have dried and warmed themselves; but our traveller,
like Sir Abel Handy in “Speed the Plough,” whose inventions were
never completed by the hour of need, had left his tinder-box behind
him. He endeavoured to remedy this evil by rubbing together two small
pieces of wood; but the rain had damped the seeds of fire which they
contained, and he rubbed in vain. Relinquishing at length all attempts
to inveigle Vulcan into their company, they erected a small tent with
the branches of trees and their cloaks, and throwing themselves, wet
as they were, upon the felt of their saddles, in this manner quietly
passed the night, though the rain fell in torrents on all sides.
Next morning, after drinking a little water, which served them for
breakfast, they pushed on through the woods; but as the rain still
continued, they were for a considerable time unable, with all their
exertions, to restore warmth to their limbs. In the afternoon, however,
they discovered an iron-foundry, where they dried their garments, and
then set forward on their return to their quarters. This was destined
to be a day of adventures for Pallas. The river Aï, which they had
crossed without difficulty the day before, was now swelled to a furious
torrent by the rains; so that a ferry-boat was indispensable. A horde
of Chouvashes, who inhabited the banks of the stream, undertook to
construct a boat; but when it was launched, and the traveller embarked
in it, the mariners discovered that the cords by which it was to be
pulled along were so awkwardly arranged that they were every moment
in danger of being capsized and hurled into the water. Fortunately,
the rapidity of the current was so great, that they darted along like
an arrow, clinging to their carriage, which they had had the prudence
to fasten with strong cords to the boat; and in a moment they were on
the opposite shore, where the sharp angles of their raft, for it was
little better, struck in the earth, and prevented all possibility of a
refluence into the river. They then dragged their vehicle on shore, and
continued their journey.

Proceeding eastward from this place, they arrived on the 20th of June
at the Asbestos Mountain, which traverses a marshy region covered with
moss. The asbestos is found on the summit of the loftiest hill in the
whole chain, in a kind of coarse slate. It is brittle, like decayed
wood, while in the stone, but upon being exposed to the air becomes
soft and pliable as flax, and is easily spun and woven into cloth.
Pallas himself, who carefully examined its nature and qualities, as
well as the mine, if it may be so termed, from which it is drawn,
saw it manufactured into paper. From this place he proceeded to the
iron-forges of Sisertskoï, in the neighbourhood of which gold is
found in a matrix of quartz and ochre; and, indeed, all the country
immediately north of this point abounds in an auriferous ochre, from
which much pure metal might be extracted. He then visited various
other forges, mines, and quarries, and arrived at Ekaterinburg on the
23d of June.

Our traveller’s life, like the peaceful periods of history complained
of by Plutarch, was too uniform to furnish many interesting events to
his biographer. He travelled, he examined many things, he wrote; but
dangers, difficulties, and all the fierce play of the passions, which
render the life of a bold adventurer who relies on his own resources
a series of romantic achievements, have no existence in his travels’
history, and both the reader’s patience and mine are, therefore,
somewhat irritated. This, no doubt, may appear unphilosophical to many.
It may be said, that when we behold the picture of a life, whether
individual or national, which flowed along in a calm tide, unruffled
by misfortune or vicissitude, our feelings should be lulled into the
same tranquil motion, and be productive of a happiness similar to
that, the representation of which we contemplate. I have faith in the
wisdom of nature, which has ordered things otherwise. The mind, when
in a healthy and vigorous state, abhors an uninterrupted calm; and
storms, hurricanes, and thunders are not more conducive to the general
good of the physical world than vicissitudes, transitions, dangers,
escapes, which are the storms and sunshine of life, are conducive to
happiness in the individual who undergoes them, and to sympathy and
pleasure in those who contemplate his career. For this reason, persons
who travel with authority never inspire us with the same respect as
those whose movements are spontaneous and independent; nor can such
travellers ever penetrate like the latter into the core of manners
and national character, since most of those who approach them put
on, in deference to their very authority, an artificial, deceptive
appearance. In the same manner, a nation which should begin and end in
peace would have no history; none, at least, which could interest any
one beyond its borders. Human virtues are plants which never strike a
deep root unless shaken by misfortune. Virtue consists in the directing
of our intellectual and physical energies to a praiseworthy end;
but if our energies be naturally feeble, or dwindle and wither away
through lack of exercise, our virtue, by a necessary consequence, must
become dwarfish and insignificant, and utterly incapable of exciting
enthusiastic sympathy in those who behold its meek and timid bearing.

These reflections have been extorted from me by the insipid mode of
travelling adopted by Pallas. Nothing can be further from my intention
than to recommend or require foolhardiness in a traveller; but it
seems not irrational to expect, that when a man undertakes the task of
examining a remote country, he should be willing to incur some risk
and fatigue in the execution of his plan. Of fatigue Pallas, perhaps,
endured his share; but he seems to have shrunk rather too timidly from
coming in contact with barbarous nations; and I therefore greatly
distrust the completeness of his moral pictures. On the other hand, his
descriptions of plants, minerals, and the processes of Russian industry
are exceedingly minute, and enjoy, I believe, among scientific men the
reputation of being exact; but these, unfortunately, the very nature
of biography compels me to reject, or introduce into the narrative but
sparingly. Among the curious things observed in the western districts
of Siberia was the method of preparing Russia leather, which, though
tanned in the ordinary manner, acquired the fine scent which renders
it so valuable from the oil extracted from the bark of the birch-tree.
In traversing the forests which surround the marble quarries on the
banks of the Toura, with Vogoul guides, they were overtaken by the
night. Excepting the small spot on which they halted, all around was
a marshy swamp encumbered with wood, and affording neither road nor
pathway. They therefore considered themselves fortunate in having found
a dry resting-place; and the Vogouls, to whom such accidents were
familiar, immediately occupied themselves in kindling a fire at once,
in order to procure warmth and keep off the bears. Next morning his
guides undertook to conduct him, by a short path across the forest,
to the banks of the Liala, and accordingly struck off boldly into the
wilderness. The sombre pine-trees, intermingling their branches above,
rendered the way exceedingly obscure; a bog or a fallen tree every
moment intercepted their route; the branches of prickly shrubs tore
their hands and faces; and not a step could be taken without carefully
observing whether it might not precipitate them into some impassable
morass. Not a plant met the eye but the _mœringia_ and the _linnea_,
two plants which our traveller, in general a patient forbearing man,
often saluted with Tristram Shandy’s whole chapter of curses, as they
were in those northern regions the never-failing forerunners of a swamp
or an impervious pine-forest. After much toil they reached an open
space, from which the trees had been cleared away by a conflagration,
which Pallas attributed to lightning, and his guides to the frolics
of the devil, who, they imagined, during some long winter night had
kindled a whole forest to light up his gambols. Shortly afterward, his
guides, who had probably bestowed too many of their thoughts upon the
devil, entirely lost their way, and, after floundering about in bogs
and woods for several hours, were compelled to confess their utter
ignorance of the way; upon which, at the command of our traveller,
they turned back, and regained the point from which he had started.
The Vogouls, with whom he performed this unsuccessful journey, are a
people of primitive and peculiar manners, living in separate families
scattered through the woods, with each its domain and enclosure of
several miles, containing elks and other large game. Though surrounded
by marshes, they are said to enjoy excellent health. Their lives,
however, are not of long duration. Short in stature, and effeminate in
form, they in some measure resemble the Kalmucs, but their complexion
is fairer. Their women are handsome, and of exceedingly amorous
temperament. They profess Christianity, but merely for peace’ sake; for
in secret they continue the worship of idols, which are daily invoked
with prayer and sacrifice.

About the end of August Pallas arrived at Cheliabinsk, where he was
for a considerable time confined to his chamber by an affection of the
eyes. Here, therefore, he resolved to remain during the winter; but,
in order that no time might be lost, he despatched a number of his
attendants in various directions, with orders to collect information.
Growing tired of this town about the middle of December, however,
he set out for Tobolsk, where he remained but a few days, and then
returned by Ekaterinburg to Cheliabinsk, where he continued during the
remainder of the winter.

Pallas remained at Cheliabinsk until the 16th of April, 1771, when,
having commissioned a number of the young men who accompanied the
expedition to examine the more northern portions of Siberia, he
departed towards the east. The day before he set out, the long grass
on the extensive downs to the north of the city were set on fire; the
flames swept rapidly along the plains, and the wind blowing towards
the town, there was some danger that this irresistible conflagration,
which already embraced the whole extent of the horizon, might reach the
place, and consume it to ashes. A timely shower of rain, however, put
an end to their apprehensions.

In proceeding towards the Tobol, our traveller was alarmed by a report
that the Kirghees were making an incursion into the interjacent
territory, and prudently turned out of his way to avoid an encounter
with these rude barbarians. At Kaminskaia several of his companions
fell sick, some with fever, some with scorbutic rheumatism, while
others became a prey to melancholy. His movements, for these reasons,
were slow. The weather, meanwhile, was exceedingly severe; the snow
falling heavily, accompanied by cold wind. The last days of April were
marked by a terrible hurricane, and May was commenced with hard frost;
notwithstanding which, neither the young flowers nor the buds suffered
any particular injury. On the 2d of May one of his attendants died of
scurvy, which had afflicted him for five months, and was accompanied
by symptoms no less violent than those which attend the same disorder
at sea. This event, which would have cost some men a tear, seems to
have given no particular uneasiness to Pallas, who, leaving some of his
people to inter the dead, coolly continued his journey.

On reaching the stepp of Ischimi, he found an immense plain watered by
extensive lakes, and abounding in aquatic game, among which the most
remarkable was a large species of white heron. To study the manners of
this bird he remained here a few days. But his mode of procuring game
was somewhat different from that of Le Vaillant, who pursued the birds
into the woods, observed them in their native haunts, and shot them
himself. Pallas despatched a number of subaltern naturalists, who shot
the game for him, and furnished him with an account of their manners;
and this was what he termed studying natural history.

On arriving at Omsk, he applied to the temporary governor of the
town for permission to examine the collection of maps of Siberia, as
divided into provinces and districts, which had been made by the late
Governor Springer; but the new functionary, “dressed in a little brief
authority,” had the ambition to play the politician and statesman,
and, notwithstanding that he knew Pallas to be travelling for the
government upon a public mission, refused him the favour he demanded
without an express order from court. Nay, when he desired to depart,
this new great man, with the prudence of an owl, denied him a proper
passport, though without this it would be difficult for him to obtain
horses on the way. Pallas, however, with the caution of a courtier,
rather than with the honest indignation of a man of letters, instead
of stigmatizing this gross misconduct as it deserved, merely observes,
that he attributed it to the military spirit naturally inimical to the
sciences.

Our traveller at length departed from Omsk, and commenced his
examination of the productions found on the banks of the Irtish, where,
on digging in the sandy downs, the bones of elephants and of many large
fishes were discovered. Though it was now drawing near the end of May,
he experienced continual storms, sometimes accompanied by black clouds,
at others by a clear sky. From the inhabitants, however, he learned
that tempests succeed each other almost unceasingly in those regions,
where a week of fine weather is seldom or never known. He here learned
from the fur-merchants a secret which deserves to be generally known:
in order to preserve their furs from the worms, they tied up in each
bale several calamus roots, which, they asserted, were an unfailing
defence of their merchandise. A few shreds of Russia leather, which
preserves books and papers from the moth even in Hindostan, would no
doubt have answered the same purpose.

On the 11th of June, while travelling through a country thickly
intersected with salt-lakes and birch forests, and peopled by myriads
of wild bees, he encountered an enormous wolf, which was chasing a duck
upon the heath. This animal, he says, is generally remarkable for its
timidity in summer; but on the present occasion seemed disposed, like
one of La Fontaine’s wolves; to enter into a debate with the strangers;
for, instead of flying, he coolly stood still to look at them, without
being in the least disturbed by their shouting. At length, however,
despairing of entering into any thing like rational conversation with
persons who seemed resolved to monopolize all the privilege of good
company for themselves, he turned round upon his heel, and with a
disdainful and careless bound, continued his journey.

At the foot of the small mountains which branch northward of the Altaïc
chain, Pallas discovered a prodigious number of excavations and pits,
made at some remote period by a people now unknown, who understood the
art of smelting metals, but who have left no trace of their existence
save these mines, and the ornaments of copper and gold which are found
in their tombs. Here, at the small town of Shoulba, our traveller was
attacked with dysentery; but it was necessary to push forward, though
his weakness was such that he could scarcely step into his carriage.
While in this state he passed by, but could not visit, a tomb of
prodigious magnitude, situated on the summit of a lofty mountain,
which, according to tradition, had formerly been opened by a band of
one hundred and fifty armed peasantry, who had been rewarded for their
labour by the discovery of fifty pounds weight of solid gold. A few
days afterward his dysentery became so violent that he was compelled to
discontinue his journey, and confine himself, during several weeks, to
his bed.

As soon as his health was a little improved, he set out with M.
Sokoloff, in order to visit the Altaïc mountains. The whole of the
neighbouring districts are diversified with hill and dale, and watered
by numerous streams, which come down from the mountains, foaming and
thundering over their rocky beds. On some of these eminences were found
extensive copses of raspberry-bushes, around which Pallas observed
the fresh tracks of bears, which are very fond of this fruit, and
not unfrequently carry off women and children who resort thither to
gather it. Apparently this is done merely as a frolic, or by way of
terrifying interlopers from meddling with their property; for our
traveller gravely observes that they do them no manner of injury.

At length they discovered the summits of the Altaï, covered with snow,
and towering far above everything around them. Pallas had no eye for
the picturesque. What in the eyes of another man would have been
sublime was to him merely fearful and horrible; but he was struck with
these cones, and pyramids, and precipices, and prodigious pinnacles
of rock, which, when he beheld them, appeared to support a black roof
of clouds, which stretched over the whole hemisphere, and menaced the
country with a second deluge. No marine petrifactions, or any sign of
their ever having been submerged in the ocean, were here discoverable;
but it is probable that more careful researches would have been
productive of a different result.

From the Altaïc mountains Pallas directed his course towards the north,
crossed the Obi, traversed the governments of Kolyran, visited Tomsk,
and on the 10th of October arrived at Krasnoiarsk, a city situated
on the Yeniseï, in the 66th degree of north latitude. Here he set up
his quarters for the winter. The autumn, he observes, is generally
mild in the southern parts of Siberia; but with the winter storms and
hurricanes come on, and sometimes blow during a whole month without
intermission. The cold is intense. Nevertheless, about the middle of
February the sun begins to exert considerable power, and sensibly
diminishes the snow on the mountains.

On the 7th of March, 1772, Pallas departed from Krasnoiarsk for
the eastern part of Siberia, accompanied by a painter, and three
naturalists. Their route, as far as the Angora, lay through a country
partly covered with forests, where there falls, during winter, large
quantities of snow. From time to time they observed the encampments of
the idolatrous tribes who inhabit those regions, and roam about like
wild animals in the woods. They reached Irkutsk on the 14th, and having
remained a week in that capital, continued their journey along the
shores of Lake Baikal. The weather had now grown warm, and they saw the
last flocks of alpine larks and black sparrows, flying round the city,
and then departing for the north; these were followed by a species
of striped crow, which had passed the winter in the warm regions of
Mongolia, or China, and was now pursuing the same route towards the
arctic circle.

As our traveller was desirous of crossing Lake Baikal on sledges, he
hurried his departure from Irkutsk, lest the warm weather should melt
the ice, and obstruct his passage. The scenery on the shores of this
immense lake is exceedingly rugged and sublime. Rocks of vast elevation
form the shores of the Angara, by which you descend from Irkutsk to
the sea; and on arriving at the mouth of the river you discover,
as through an arcade, the vast basin of the Baikal, and the lofty
mountains which confine its waters on the east. They directed their
course in a straight line from a small post on the bank of the frozen
stream, towards the borders of the lake, pursuing their way in sledges
on the ice. When they had proceeded about half-way, they were overtaken
by a tremendous storm from the north-west, which entirely cooled the
atmosphere. The wind swept along the ice with such prodigious violence,
that the sledge-drivers, who ran along by the side of the vehicles,
were sometimes blown away to the distance of many fathoms from the
road, and were compelled to stick their knives in the ice, to prevent
their being carried away, and hurled into some chasm. To avoid the risk
of such accidents, the party halted until the tempest was over.

At Zimovia on the Baikal, they found several persons setting out
to hunt the sea-dog on the lake. This kind of chase takes place
principally in April. The sea-dogs, assembling on those parts of the
shore where rapid streams or warm springs keep up an opening in the
ice, then ascend from the water, in order to lie down upon the ice,
and sleep in the sun. The hunters fix up in their little sledges a
small white flag, which the dogs take for ice, and accordingly are not
frightened until they draw near and fire upon them.

Pallas now descended in his sledge upon the Baikal, and commenced
this singular portion of his journey. The ice had this winter been as
smooth as a mirror, on the whole surface of the lake; but when they had
advanced to a certain distance from the shore, they found a fissure of
several feet in breadth, which intercepted their passage, and forced
them to make a circuit of considerable length. However, this obstacle
having been surmounted, they encountered no other, and quickly found
themselves on the opposite shore. The road now assumed a different
character, running over rugged mountains, or sandy flats, where the
snow was entirely melted, until, cutting the Selinga, as it were, into
two parts, it led them into a milder climate, where the spring, with
all its gay accompaniments, was already far advanced. They arrived,
much fatigued, at Selinginsk, on the 25th of March.

From Selinginsk he proceeded through Mongolia towards the borders of
China, moving among an idolatrous people, the partisans of the Lamaic
hierarchy, until, arriving at Kiakter, he touched the extreme limits
of the empire, where his journey in that direction was to terminate.
Here Pallas made many inquiries respecting the commerce, opinions, and
manners of the Chinese; and having satisfied his curiosity, returned
to Selinginsk. From this point he now directed his course northward,
towards the great tributary streams which fall into the Selinga. His
excursions in this direction, which were carried into execution without
enthusiasm or curiosity, merely as a task imposed on him by authority,
are still more destitute of incidents, if possible, than the former
portion of his travels. He examined the iron-mines, the grain and fur
trade, and the objects of natural history furnished by the district.

Pallas now turned his face towards the east, traversed the desert
regions which lie between the Selinga and the Onon, the principal
branch of the Amoor, and having pushed his researches to within a very
short distance of the Chinese frontier, returned by a different route
to Selinginsk, leaving to M. Sokolof and others the honour of exploring
the frontiers of Mongolia, along the banks of the Argoon and Amoor. His
health, indeed, now began to suffer from constant fatigue, and he was
therefore fully justified in relinquishing this portion of his task;
but I cannot easily pardon him for pretending to have been actuated
by the desire of botanizing on the banks of the Selinga, since, if
botanizing was his object, it was to be presumed that the wild shores
of the Amoor would have afforded a still more ample and extraordinary
field for his researches. During his stay at Selinginsk, he observed,
among other curious animals and birds, the blue crow, which was easily
taken, as its young were hitherto unfledged; and a species of small
white hare, which was found in great numbers in the little islands in
the Selinga. Besides these there was the leaping hare, which, mingling
at night among the sheep, frightened them by its bounding motions. The
Mongols, who are fond of its flesh when roasted, imagine that it sucks
the ewes; as the vulgar in England report of the hedgehog and the cow.

Previous to his finally quitting the country, he made another excursion
to the frontiers of China, principally, it would seem, for the purpose
of studying the botany of those districts, when the flowers were
clothed in all the beauty of summer. The road to Kiakta traverses a
large sandy plain, and afterward a succession of rocky mountains,
entirely destitute of wood. In this latter district our traveller
observed a species of locust, by whose flight the natives could foretel
with certainty whether the weather would be fair or otherwise. They
mounted aloft on the wing previous to rainy weather, and the noise of
their motions resembled that of castanets. After remaining some short
time in the vicinity of Kiakta, he once more returned to Selinginsk,
and began to make the necessary preparations for retracing their
footsteps to Krasnoiarsk, where they again intended to pass the winter.
Accordingly, on the 3d of July, Pallas and a part of his companions
departed from Selinginsk, and proceeded towards the Baikal.

Upon reaching the eastern shore of the lake, they saw a thick cold
mist, which appeared to fill the whole extent of its vast basin, and
hung close upon the surface of the water. This fog exactly resembled
those fogs which are sometimes collected in the hollows of the
mountains, or on the shores of the sea. It was kept in continual
motion, and tossed hither and thither, like the waves of the ocean, by
the wind. This mist was accompanied by strong westerly winds, which
prevented our traveller from proceeding on his way; and he amused
himself during his detention in studying the fishes of the lake,
together with the birds and animals which frequent its shores.

On the 10th of July, he embarked, and set sail with boisterous and
contrary winds. The passage of the lake was long, but, arriving at
length at Zimovia, Pallas proceeded with all possible expedition to
Krasnoiarsk, by way of Irkutsk. He arrived on the 1st of August at
the point of destination, where, to his great satisfaction, he found
that a magnificent collection of the flowers which adorn the banks of
the Yeniseï had been made during the spring and summer, by one of his
pupils, whom he had left behind for that purpose. From Krasnoiarsk,
our traveller made another long excursion, visited several Tartar
hordes, various mines, mountains, and tombs, and returned about the
middle of September, the approach of winter being already visible in
those high latitudes. By December, the cold had reached an intensity
which had never been felt even in Siberia. The air was still, and at
the same time condensed, as it were; so that, although the sky was
exceedingly clear, the sun appeared as if beheld through a cloud.
In the morning of the 6th of December, Pallas found the mercury of
his thermometer frozen, “a thing,” says he, “which had never before
happened during the whole eight years in which I had made use of this
instrument. I then conveyed it from the gallery where it was kept
into an apartment moderately warmed with a stove. Here the column of
mercury, which had been condensed in the tube, immediately sunk into
the bulb, while that in the bulb resumed its activity in the course
of half a minute. I repeated this experiment several times with the
same result, so that sometimes there remained but a very few particles
in the tube, sometimes not above one. In order to follow the progress
of the experiment, I gently warmed the bulb with my fingers, after it
had been exposed to the air, and watching the mounting of the mercury,
distinctly observed that the condensed and frozen columns offered
considerable resistance before they gave way. At the same time I
exposed about a quarter of a pound of mercury to the air, in a saucer.
This mercury had been previously well washed in vinegar, and cleansed
from impurities. The saucer was placed in a gallery on the north side
of my house. In an hour the edges of the surface were frozen, and a
few minutes afterward, the whole superficies was condensed into a
soft mass, exactly resembling pewter. As the interior, however, still
continued fluid, a small portion of the surface presented numerous
wrinkles branching out from each other, but the greater part was
sufficiently smooth. The same thing took place with a still larger
quantity which I placed in the open air. This mass of frozen mercury
was as pliable as lead but if bent suddenly, would break more easily
than pewter; and when flattened into sheets, appeared somewhat knotty.
I tried to beat it out with the hammer, but being quite cold, the
mercury fell from it in drops. The same thing took place when you
touched this mass with the finger, the top of which was instantly
benumbed with cold by the simple contact. I then placed it in a
moderately warm room, and it melted like wax placed over the fire. The
drops separated from the surface, which melted gradually. The intensity
of the cold diminished towards the evening.”

In the month of January, 1773, Pallas began to make preparations for
returning to Petersburg, and departing on the 22d, pushed on with
the utmost rapidity to Tomsk. During this journey, he discovered the
execrable principles upon which it was attempted to people Siberia.
The refuse of the people, the lame, the sick, the infirm, and the
old, had been collected together, and sent thither to die. Men had
been torn, for this purpose, from their wives and families. Women,
for some reason or another, had not been allowed to emigrate from the
west in sufficient numbers, and vice and misery flourished in their
absence. Man, deprived of the society of women, necessarily degenerates
into a ferocious beast, contemning all laws, and every regulation of
morality. “It is not good that man should be alone.” Whenever new
colonies are established, women should be numerous. It is they who are
the grand instruments of civilization.--The cavern, the desert hut,
when inhabited by a woman, already contains the germs of humanity, of
hospitality, of improvement; but without her is a den, a haunt of
ungovernable passions,--a refuge from the storm, but not a home.

In crossing a bridge over the Dooroosh, in the country of the Votiaks,
our traveller was placed in a more perilous condition than he had
experienced during any former period of his travels. His horses had
already reached the shore, when the bridge, which must have been a very
frail structure, gave way under his carriage, and he must infallibly
have been precipitated into the stream, had not the spirited horses
dashed on at the moment, and dragged up the carriage from amid the
falling ruins.

The country between the Jaik and the Volga was at that period a
vast desert, which abounded with wild horses. Pallas, however, was
of opinion that these animals had once been tame, but, during the
emigrations and nomadic movements of the Kalmucs and Kirghees, had
escaped into the wilderness, where they had multiplied exceedingly.
To fly from the heat and the hornets, these horses wandered far into
the north during the summer months, and there, besides a refuge from
their persecutors, found better pasturage, and an abundance of water.
The surface of this great Mesopotamia was sprinkled at intervals with
ruins of Tartar edifices, which swarmed in an extraordinary manner with
serpents.

On the 25th of June our traveller arrived at the Moravian colony of
Sarepta, which in eight years had increased, by immigration, from five
persons to two thousand five hundred; and was at this period in a
highly flourishing state. He here entered into some curious researches
respecting the ancient shores of the Caspian, whose waters, in his
opinion, once covered the greater portion of the Kalmuc country, just
as those of the Black Sea did all the low lands upon its banks, before
the deluge of Deucalion, when they first burst the huge natural mound
which separated them from the Mediterranean.

Pallas passed the autumn at Zarizyn, where he observed the Kalmucs
moving westward in hordes towards the country lying between the Volga
and the Don. From this place he made an excursion through the stepps
which lie up the stream of the Volga; on his return from which he
chiefly employed himself in botanical researches, until the spring of
1774. He then undertook another journey along the banks of the Aktooba,
through a country infested with bands of vagabond Kirghees, and other
wandering nations, and returned to his head-quarters on the 25th of May.

It was now six years since the expedition had set out from Petersburg,
and all its members began to desire repose. Each person, therefore,
hastened to return by the shortest road to the capital. Pallas was
directed to repair to Moscow, and punctually obeyed his orders, without
making the slightest deviation to the right-hand or to the left. He
arrived at this ancient city on the 3d of July, 1774. “Here,” says he,
“I found the orders of the court, by which I was commanded to hasten
without the least delay to Petersburg; and, notwithstanding that I felt
exceedingly desirous of making a short stay at Moscow, for the purpose
of improving my knowledge, by conversing with the learned M. Müller,
one of the most excellent men in Russia, as well as one of the most
celebrated of its historians, _it was necessary to yield and obey_.”
Such is the condition of those who travel by command. He arrived at
Petersburg on the 30th of July, exhausted by fatigue, and with a head
sprinkled with premature gray hairs; for he was then no more than
thirty-three years old.

The companions of Pallas had suffered still more severely; scarcely one
of them lived long enough to draw up an account of his travels; and
it was therefore left to him to render this piece of justice to their
memory. For himself, the splendid objects which he had beheld had made
too profound an impression on his mind to allow of his being satisfied
with the accounts of them which he had hastily traced in his journal.
He therefore determined upon the publication of several separate
works, which should contain the natural history of the most celebrated
quadrupeds of Siberia; and these he actually laid before the public,
together with descriptions of a great number of birds, reptiles, and
fishes. In addition to all these, he even projected a natural history
of all the animals and plants in the Russian empire; in which design,
though it was never completed, he made a very considerable progress.
The empress herself, worthless and profligate as she was, was possessed
by the ambition of being regarded as the patron of the sciences, and
in order to facilitate the execution of our traveller’s project,
communicated to him the herbariums of several other botanists, who
had studied the flora of the empire. To secure the completion of the
undertaking, Catherine moreover engaged to furnish the expense of the
engraving and printing of the work; but the end was not answerable to
this magnificent beginning; projects of more vulgar ambition, or vile
and despicable amours, too fully occupied the imperial mind to allow so
unimportant a thing as the science of botany to command a thought, and
Pallas was constrained to rely upon his own resources for making known
his botanical discoveries to the world. The same fate attended his
works on the natural history of the animals and insects of the empire.

M. Cuvier, whose capacity to appreciate the labours of a scientific man
can scarcely be called in question, observes, that it is seldom that
very laborious men possess sufficient tranquillity of mind to conceive
those root-ideas which produce a revolution in the sciences; but Pallas
formed an exception to this rule. He nearly succeeded in changing the
whole aspect of the science of zoology; and most certainly did operate
a complete change in that of the theory of the earth. An attentive
consideration of the two great chains of mountains of Siberia enabled
him to discover this general rule, which has been everywhere found
to hold good, that there exist three primitive orders of mountains,
the granitic in the centre, the schistous next in succession, and the
calcareous on the outside. It may be said that this great discovery,
distinctly announced in a memoir read before the academy in 1777, gave
birth to the modern science of geology: from this point the Saussures,
the Delues, and the Werners proceeded to the discovery of the real
structure of the earth, which is so exceedingly at variance with the
fantastic ideas of preceding writers.

In addition to his scientific labours, Pallas was engaged by Catherine
in drawing up comparative vocabularies of the languages spoken by all
the various nations in the Russian empire; but was restrained, in
the execution of this plan, to follow exactly in the track pointed
out by his mistress. He was likewise chosen member of the committee
employed, in 1777, in compiling a new topography of the empire; and
had the honour of instructing Alexander, the late despot of Russia,
and his brother Constantine, in natural history. But, notwithstanding
all these marks of distinction, and many others of equal importance,
our traveller experienced the truth, that happiness is incompatible
with dependence of every kind. His travelling habits, too, rendered a
sedentary life irksome to him; but what still further disgusted him
with Petersburg, was the crowd of fashionable but absurd people who
thronged his house, imagining, perhaps, they were doing him an honour
by consuming his time. To escape from this species of persecution, he
took advantage of the invasion of the Crimea, to visit new countries;
and during the years 1793 and 1794, traversed the southern provinces
of the empire at his own expense. He even skirted the frontiers of
Circassia, but, with his usual prudence, avoided the dangers which
would have attended a journey into that country. He then proceeded
into the Crimea, through which Potemkin was leading the empress as a
spectacle of contempt and scorn to all mankind; and was so captivated
by a passing glance at its splendid scenery, that, on his return to
Petersburg, he solicited and obtained permission to retire thither.

Solitude, however, which appeared so desirable at a distance, Pallas
soon found to be an intolerable curse; the climate, also, fell
infinitely short of his expectations, was inconstant and humid, and
liable to be altered by every passing wind. It united, in fact, the
inconveniences of the north and of the south; yet our traveller endured
these evils for fifteen years; but at length, feeling the approaches of
old age, he determined at once to escape from the climate of the Crimea
and from Russian despotism, and selling his estates at an exceedingly
low rate, returned to his native city, after an absence of forty-two
years. His health, however, had been so completely undermined by the
diseases he had contracted during his travels, and, more than all,
by his long residence in the Crimea, that he might be said merely to
have looked upon his native place, and on the face of those friends
or admirers which his knowledge and fame had gathered around him,
before death removed him from the enjoyment of all these things. This
event took place on the 8th of September, 1811. Pallas appears to have
been an able, learned, and upright man, deeply intent on promoting
the interests of science, but indifferent about those great political
rights without the enjoyment of which even the sciences themselves are
of no more dignity or value than the tricks of a juggler.



CARSTEN NIEBUHR.

Born 1733.--Died 1815.


This traveller was born on the 17th of March, 1733, in the province of
Friesland, in the kingdom of Hanover. It would be to mislead the reader
to represent him, as some of his biographers have done, as the son
of a peasant, in the sense in which that term is applied in England.
His father and his ancestors, for several generations, had been small
landed proprietors; he himself received an education, and inherited a
property, which, however small, served as an incentive to ambition; and
though, like many others, he found the entrance of the road to fame
rugged and hard to tread, it must not be dissembled that his prudence
and perseverance were singularly aided by good fortune.

Having lost his mother before he was six weeks old, the care of his
infancy was intrusted to a step-mother; and he was still a lad when
his father likewise died. The guardians upon whom the superintendence
of his youth at first devolved, entertaining, apparently, but little
respect for intellectual pursuits, interrupted his studies; and his
maternal uncle, who succeeded them in this important trust, would seem
to have wanted the means, if he possessed the will, to direct the
course of a young man. Niebuhr was therefore left very much to his
own guidance, which, to a man of vigorous intellect, I am far from
regarding as a misfortune. The beginnings of life, however, like the
beginnings of day, are generally accompanied by mists which obscure the
view, and render it absolutely impossible to determine with precision
the character of the various paths which present themselves before us;
and thus it was that our traveller, who, knowing not that Providence
was about to conduct him to a brilliant destiny in the East, at one
time studied music, with the intention of becoming an organist, and was
afterward led, through accidental circumstances, to apply himself to
geometry, for the purpose of practising as a land-surveyor.

With this design he repaired, in his twenty-third year, to Bremen,
where he discovered a person from whom he might have derived the
necessary instruction; but finding that this individual’s domestic
economy was under the superintendence of two youthful sisters, whose
behaviour towards himself Niebuhr seems to have regarded as forward
and indecorous, he immediately quitted this city and proceeded to
Hamburgh. It will easily be conceived that the studies of a young man
who voluntarily cultivated his intellect as the only means by which
he could arrive at distinction, were pursued with ardent enthusiasm.
Niebuhr, in fact, considered labour and toil as the only guides
to genuine glory, and was content to tolerate on the way the rude
fierceness of their manners.

When he had studied the mathematics, during two years, under Büsch, he
removed to Göttingen, where he continued another year. At this period
the Danish ministry, at the suggestion of Michaelis, had projected
a scientific expedition into Arabia, which was at first designed,
at least by its originator, merely to throw some light upon certain
passages of the Old Testament, but which afterward embraced a much
wider field. Michaelis, to whom the choice of the individuals who were
to form this mission had been intrusted, betrayed the narrowness or
malignity of his mind, by neglecting the celebrated Reiske, who was
then well known to be struggling with starvation, in order to thrust
forward Von Haven, a pupil of his own, who, but for this partial
choice, would probably have lived and died in obscurity. Niebuhr
himself was recommended to Michaelis by Kästner, whose pupil he had
for some time been. The proposal was abruptly made, and as suddenly
accepted. “Have you a mind,” said Kästner, “to go into Arabia?”--“Why
not?” replied Niebuhr, “if anybody will pay my expenses.”--“The King
of Denmark,” said Kästner, “will pay your expenses.” He then entered
into the history of the Danish ministry’s project, and Niebuhr, whose
genuine ambition was most ardent, and who, though in manners modest
and unassuming, could not but entertain a favourable opinion of his
own capacity, at once engaged to form a member of the mission. It was
agreed, on the part of his Danish majesty, that he should be allowed
a year and a half for preparation, with a salary sufficient for his
maintenance.

Niebuhr had now a definite object. The East, with all its barbaric
pomp and historical glory, which in preceding and succeeding days
have kindled enthusiasm in so many bosoms, appeared to court his
examination; and, like a lover who appreciates at their highest value
the accomplishments of his mistress, and is bent on rendering himself
worthy of her, he thenceforward studied, with vehement earnestness,
all those branches of knowledge which he regarded as necessary to a
traveller in the East; and Latin, Arabic, the mathematics, drawing,
practical mechanics, together with the history of the countries he was
about to visit, amply occupied his hours. An additional half-year being
granted him, it was not until the Michaelmas of 1760 that he quitted
Göttingen for Copenhagen.

Here he was received in the most flattering manner by Count
Bernstorf, the Danish minister, by whom he was appointed lieutenant
of engineers. The rank of captain he modestly refused. Niebuhr was
never possessed by an immoderate desire for wealth, and a trait of
unpresuming disinterestedness which escaped him during his preparatory
studies is at once illustrative of this fact, and of another equally
important,--that wealth no less than fame is frequently best won by
carefully abstaining from grasping at it too eagerly. The salary
granted him by the King of Denmark was probably small, but our
traveller, with that repugnance to solicit which is characteristic
of superior minds, not only contrived to reduce his wants within the
limits of his means, but by rigid economy enabled himself, moreover,
to purchase at his own expense whatever instruments he needed. The
knowledge of this fact coming to the ears of the minister, he not only
reimbursed the young traveller the sum he had expended, but, as a mark
of the high satisfaction he derived from so striking an evidence of
honest independence, committed to his charge the travelling-chest of
the mission.

Niebuhr’s companions were four in number: Von Haven, the linguist, a
person of mean capacity; Forskaal, the naturalist, distinguished for
his numerous and profound acquirements; Cramer, a physician, devoid
even of professional knowledge; and Baurenfeind, an artist, not
destitute of talent, but ignorant, full of prejudices, and addicted to
the vulgar habit of drinking. Von Haven, to whom a long sea-voyage was
disagreeable, obtained permission to proceed to Marseilles by land;
and the ship in which the other members of the expedition embarked was
directed to take him on board at that port. They left the Sound on the
7th of January, 1761, but were three times driven back by contrary
winds; so that it was not until the 10th of March that they were
enabled fairly to put to sea, and continue their voyage.

Niebuhr describes, among the singular things observed during this
voyage, a white rainbow, which only differed from the common rainbow in
being destitute of colours. This, I believe, is a phenomenon not often
witnessed; but on the 21st of May, 1830, which succeeded a day and
night of tremendous thunder, lightning, and rain, I remember to have
myself seen a similar rainbow in Normandy. It was much thicker, but
greatly inferior in span, and less sharply defined at the edges than
the ordinary bow; and, as the morning mist upon which it was painted
grew thinner, the arch decreased in span, until it at length vanished
entirely.

Our traveller amused himself while on board in observing the manners
of the crew, which he considered manly though unpolished. He likewise
exercised himself daily in nautical and astronomical observations;
and by his affability and the extent of his knowledge, acquired and
preserved the respect of both officers and men. They discovered Cape
St. Vincent on the 21st of April, and a few days afterward entered the
Mediterranean, where their course was considerably retarded by calms
and contrary winds. Meanwhile the weather was beautiful, and their
eyes were refreshed with the most lovely prospects, now on the African
shores, and now on those of Europe. On the 14th of May they cast anchor
in the port of Marseilles, which was at that time crowded by Swedish,
Danish, Dutch, Spanish, and French ships, the greater number of which
were prevented from putting to sea by fear of the English fleets, which
scoured the Mediterranean, diffusing consternation and terror on all
sides.

From the agreeable society of Marseilles, rendered doubly charming in
their estimation by their previous privation, they were soon compelled
to snatch themselves away. On the 6th of June Niebuhr observed at sea
the transit of Venus, and on the 14th reached Malta. This little island
enjoys, like Ireland, the privilege of being free from serpents, which
it is supposed to owe to the interference of St. Paul; though Niebuhr
imagines that the dry and rocky nature of the soil is sufficient,
without a miracle, to account for the circumstance. The knights
observing, perhaps, a peculiar absence of bigotry in our traveller,
imagined that this indicated a leaning towards Catholicism, and
appear to have been desirous of tempting him by magnificent promises
to desert the creed of his forefathers. Though his stay in Malta was
very short, Niebuhr was careful to observe whatever curiosities the
island afforded: the great church of St. John, enriched, it is said, by
sharing the plunder of the knights, with innumerable ornaments, and a
prodigious candelabrum of gold; the hospital, where the sick, whatever
might be their medical treatment, were served with vessels of silver;
the immense corn-magazines, hewn out in the rock; the salt-mines; and
the catacombs. For some reason, however, which is not stated, he did
not see the Phenician inscription, which was still preserved in the
island.

In sailing from Malta to Smyrna he was attacked with dysentery, and
began to fear that his travels were to terminate there; but the
disorder was less serious than he imagined, and having reached Tenedos,
he embarked in a Turkish boat, and proceeded up the Dardanelles to
Constantinople. Here, though slowly, he recovered his health, and
having remained quiet two months, and provided oriental dresses, not
choosing to expose himself in the paltry costume of Europe to the
laughter of the populace, he set sail with his companions for Egypt.

On the way they landed at Rhodes, where, for the first time they
visited a Turkish eating-house. The dinner, though dear, was good, but
was served up in common earthen platters, in the open street. They
next visited a Jew, who kept wine for the accommodation of Europeans;
and had in his house two young women, whom he called his daughters,
who were probably designed for the same purpose. Their reception here
cost them still dearer than their Turkish dinner; and as Jews, wine,
and the drinkers of wine are held in contempt by all sincere and
respectable Mohammedans, this must be considered a highly injudicious
step in Niebuhr. The ship in which they sailed had on board a number
of female slaves, the principal of whom were lodged in a large chamber
directly over their cabin, from which we may infer that the Turks do
not, like the Burmese, consider it a disgrace to have women walking
over their heads. As there were tolerably wide cracks in the ceiling,
our travellers frequently enjoyed the pleasure of viewing these ladies,
who, though a little terrified at first, soon became accustomed to
their faces, and notwithstanding that neither party at all understood
the language of the other, many little presents of fruit and other
trifles were given and returned. The mode in which this affair was
conducted was ingenious. As soon as the Mohammedans collected together
for prayer, the girls gently tapped at their windows, and Niebuhr
and Forskaal, looking out of the cabin, beheld the handkerchiefs of
the fair held out for fruit. When filled, they were drawn up, and
the presents they chose to make in return were then lowered down in
the same way. During the voyage, six or eight persons having died
suddenly, it was suspected that they had the plague on board; but
Niebuhr imagined that other causes might have hastened the end of those
who died; at all events, none of the members of the expedition were
infected, though their physician had often visited the sick.

The land of Egypt at length appeared on the 26th of September, and
on the same day, late in the evening, they cast anchor in the port
of Alexandria. Norden, a scientific, but an uninteresting traveller,
having recently constructed a plan of the city, Niebuhr judged that
he might spare himself the pains of repeating the process, more
especially as the Arabs, hovering in troops in the vicinity, rendered
him apprehensive that he might be robbed. However, as the eminence on
which Pompey’s pillar stands overlooks a large portion of the city, he
amused himself with taking several angles from thence, intending to
follow this up by taking others from some other positions. While he was
thus engaged, one of the Turkish merchants, who happened to be present,
observing his telescope pointed towards the city, had the curiosity to
look through it, and was not a little alarmed at perceiving a tower
upside down. “This,” says he, “gave occasion to a rumour, that I was
come to Alexandria to turn the whole city topsyturvy. The report
reached the governor’s house. My janizary refused to accompany me
when I took out my instrument; and as I then supposed that a European
could not venture to appear in an eastern city without a janizary, I
relinquished the idea of making any further geometrical measurements
there.”--“On another occasion,” he continues, “when I was making an
astronomical observation on the southern point of the Delta, a very
civil and sensible peasant, from the village of Daraúe, happened to be
present. As I wished to show him something he had never seen before, I
pointed the telescope of the quadrant towards his village, on which he
was extremely terrified at seeing all the houses upside down. He asked
my servant what could be the cause of this. The man replied, that the
government, being extremely dissatisfied with the inhabitants of that
village, had sent me to overthrow it entirely. The poor peasant was
greatly afflicted, and entreated me to wait long enough for him to take
his wife, his children, and his cow to some place of safety. My servant
assured him he had two hours good. He immediately ran home, and as soon
as the sun had passed the meridian, I took my quadrant on board again.”

Niebuhr found a number of Mohammedans at Alexandria who understood
French, Swedish, and Danish as completely as if they had been born
in the countries where those languages are spoken. As most European
travellers proceed up the Nile from this city to Cairo, the members of
the expedition were desirous of performing the journey by land, but
were restrained by fear of the Arabs; and M. Forskaal, who afterward
ventured upon this hardy enterprise, was actually stripped to the
skin, and with great difficulty obtained back his breeches. Niebuhr
now hired a small ship, and embarked on the 31st of October, but was
detained in the Gulf of Aboukir by contrary winds. Impatient of delay,
his companions proceeded thence to Rosetta by land, with a company of
Turks; but our traveller continued his voyage, and reached the city
very shortly after them. Though the inhabitants of Rosetta enjoyed the
reputation of being peculiarly polite towards strangers, Niebuhr was
too impatient to behold the capital of modern Egypt to linger long in
any provincial city; he therefore hastened to ascend the Nile, and
enjoyed the romantic prospect of fertility, villages peeping through
groves of date-trees, and here and there vast wrecks of ancient cities,
which all travellers in that extraordinary country have admired. They
arrived at Cairo on the 10th of November.

The Nile, like the Ganges, has long been renowned for the daring race
of pirates who infest it. Bruce, and many other travellers, have
celebrated their ingenuity; but the following anecdote, related by
Niebuhr, exhibits their exquisite skill in a still more favourable
point of view: A pasha, recently arrived in Egypt, happening to
be encamped on the banks of the river, his servants, aware of the
dexterity of their countrymen, kept so strict a watch during the
night, that they detected one of the pirates, and brought him before
the pasha, who threatened to put him to death on the spot. The
prisoner, however, entreated permission to show the pasha one of the
extraordinary tricks of his art, in the hope of thereby inducing him to
spare his life. The permission was granted. The man then took up the
pasha’s garments, and whatever else he found in the tent, and having
tied them up into a packet, as the Egyptians do when they are about to
swim across a river, made several turns before the company to amuse
them. He then insensibly approached the Nile, and darting into the
water like lightning, had already reached the opposite shore, with the
pasha’s garments upon his head, before the Turks could get ready their
muskets to fire at him.

Niebuhr was exceedingly desirous, soon after his arrival at Cairo, of
descending the eastern branch of the Nile to Damietta; but the sky
during the whole winter and spring was so overcast with clouds, and the
rain fell so frequently, that it was impossible to take astronomical
observations. On the 1st of May, however, the weather having cleared
up, he left Cairo. The wind blowing from the north, their progress
was slow, and he had therefore considerable leisure for observation.
The Coptic churches amused him much. In one of these he saw pictures
representing Christ, the Virgin, and several saints, on horseback;
intended, perhaps, to insinuate to their Mohammedan masters, that the
founder of their religion and his followers had not been compelled,
as Christians then were in Egypt, to ride upon asses. These churches,
moreover, were strewed with so many crutches, that a stranger might
conclude, upon observing them, that the whole Coptic community had lost
the use of their limbs; however, upon inquiry, our traveller discovered
that it was the custom among them to stand in church, which many
persons found so wearisome that they resolved to aid their piety with
crutches. The floors were covered with mats, which, not being changed
very frequently, swarmed with fleas, numbers of which did our traveller
the honour to prefer him before any of their ancient patrons. In
approaching Damietta he saw about twenty large boats loaded with bees:
each of these boats carried two hundred hives; the number, therefore,
of the hives here assembled in one spot, was four thousand; and when
the inhabitants of this floating city issued forth to visit the flowers
of the neighbourhood, they must have appeared like a locust cloud.

His stay at Damietta, which is about four miles above the mouth of the
Nile, was short. Europeans are nowhere in the East so much detested, on
account, chiefly, of the profligate character of the French formerly
settled there, who, having debauched several Mohammedan women, were
nearly all massacred by the infuriated populace. Niebuhr’s fancy
that they still remember the crusades, and hate the Franks for the
evils those insane expeditions inflicted on their ancestors, is just
as rational as if the English people were to be supposed to nourish
resentment against all the northern nations, because their barbarous
ancestors made piratical descents upon our coasts.

While at Cairo he could not, of course, resist the desire of visiting
the Pyramids. He therefore hired two Bedouin guides, and proceeded with
his friend Forskaal towards the desert, where they were encountered by
a young sheïkh, who, by dint of bravado and insolence, succeeded in
extorting from them a small sum of money; but had they, when he first
offered his services, bestowed upon him half a crown, he would not only
have given them no further molestation, but would have constituted
himself their protector against all other importunates. Niebuhr
afterward returned under more favourable auspices, and completed the
measurement of the two great pyramids, the loftier of which he found to
be 443 feet, and the second to be 403 feet high. I shall hereafter,
perhaps, have occasion to remark upon the strange discrepancies which
are found between the measurements of various travellers, which are, in
fact, so great, that we must suspect some of them, at least, of having
wanted the knowledge required by such an undertaking. From considering
the petrifactions and the nature of the rocks in this neighbourhood,
Niebuhr was led to infer the prodigious antiquity of Egypt: “Supposing
the whole of the rocks in the northern portions of the country to be
composed of petrifactions of a certain kind of shell, how many years,”
says he, “must have elapsed before a sufficient number of little snails
to raise mountains to their present height could have been born and
died! How many other years before Egypt could have been drained and
become solid, supposing that, in those remote ages, the waters retired
from the shore as slowly as they have during the last ten centuries!
How many years still, before the country was sufficiently peopled to
think of erecting the first pyramid! How many more years, before that
vast multitude of pyramids which are still found in the country could
have been constructed! Considering that at the present day we are
ignorant of when, and by whom, even the most modern of them was built.”

On the 26th of August, 1762, Niebuhr and his companions set out with
the caravan going from Cairo to Suez: the rest of the party, in spite
of the Mohammedans, mounted on horseback, and Niebuhr himself on a
dromedary. By this means he avoided several evils to which the others
were liable. Seated on his mattress he could turn his face now on one
side, now on another, to avoid the heat of the sun; and, after having
travelled all day, was no more fatigued in the evening than if he had
been all the while reposing in a chair; while the horsemen, compelled
to remain perpetually in the same posture, were well-nigh exhausted. On
the 30th they encamped near a well of good water, mentioned by Belin,
Pietro Della Valle, and Pococke, close to which the Turks formerly
erected a castle, which was now in ruins, and in three hours more
arrived at the wells of Suez, which were surrounded by a strong wall,
to keep out the Arabs, and entered by a door fastened with enormous
clumps of iron. The water here was drawn up with buckets or sacks of
leather.

Suez, from its fortunate position on the Red Sea, carried on a
considerable trade. Numbers of ships were built there annually, the
materials of which were transported thither on the backs of camels from
Cairo. The environs consist of naked rocks, or beds of loose sand, in
which nothing but brambles and a few dry stunted plants, among others
the rose of Jericho, are found to grow. This rose is employed by the
women of the East in various superstitious practices, and is therefore
to be found for sale in all cities. When pregnant, they gather one of
the buds, and putting its stem in water, foretel whether their pains
will be severe or slight from the greater or smaller development of the
flower.

Niebuhr’s first inquiry on arriving at Suez was concerning the
“Mountain of Inscriptions,” about which so much had been said in
Europe. The individuals to whom his first questions were put had never
even heard of it; others, who were exactly in the same predicament,
but desired to possess themselves of a little of their European gold,
professed a most accurate knowledge of the spot, but upon inquiry
were detected. At length, however, an Arab was discovered, from whose
replies it was clear, that whether he had seen the real _Gebel el
Mokatteb_ or not, some mountain or another he had beheld, upon which
inscriptions in an unknown language were to be found. Under this man’s
guidance, therefore, they placed themselves,--that is, Niebuhr and
Von Haven, for the rest were, from various causes, detained at Suez;
and leaving the Red Sea on their right-hand, they struck off into the
desert.

As I have given a description of this part of Arabia in the life of
Dr. Shaw, it will not be necessary here to repeat what I then said.
Niebuhr found that the Arabs, whose profession it is to serve as
guides, were distinguished, like all other persons of that class,
for their extravagant cupidity. So long as they could live at the
expense of strangers their own provisions and means were assiduously
spared; but on other occasions they exhibited various symptoms that
the old national virtue of hospitality was not wholly banished from
their minds. The women in this part of Arabia are not in the habit of
concealing their faces from strangers, as is the fashion in Egypt.
Niebuhr, in his solitary rambles through the country, discovered the
wife and sister of a sheïkh grinding corn beside their tent; who,
instead of flying and concealing themselves at his approach, as he
seems to have expected, came forward, according to the good old custom
of the East, with a present in their hands.

On arriving at what his guides called the “Mountain of Inscriptions,” a
lofty rugged eminence, which it cost them much time and toil to climb,
he found--not what he had expected--but a vast Egyptian cemetery,
in which were a great number of sepulchral monuments, covered with
hieroglyphics. These inscriptions he was not permitted to copy at the
time, because the sheïkh of the mountain apprehended he might thereby
gain possession of the immense treasures concealed beneath; but one of
his guides, who probably had little faith in that point of the sheïkh’s
creed, afterward, on his return from Mount Sinai, enabled him to copy
whatever he pleased. On his arrival at the convent of St. Catherine
the monks politely refused to admit him, alleging, as their excuse,
that he had not brought along with him a letter from their bishop. The
patriarch’s letter, which he presented to them, they returned unopened.
He was, in fact, destined to meet with nothing but disappointment in
these celebrated regions; for his Arabs, having conducted him up to
a certain height on Mount Sinai, refused to proceed any farther, and
he was not possessed of sufficient resolution to ascend the remainder
alone.

Niebuhr now hastened back to Suez, and on his return forded the Red Sea
on his dromedary, a thing which no European had done before, though the
guides, who were on foot, did not find the water above knee deep. Being
desirous of surveying the extremity of the Arabian Gulf, he procured
a guide soon after his return from Mount Sinai, with whom he set out
upon this expedition. They travelled, however, in constant fear; and
the sight of a stranger in the distance increased the terrors of the
guide to so extraordinary a pitch, that I suspect he had blood upon his
hands, and dreaded the hour of retribution.

The constant arrival of pilgrims from Egypt had now rendered Suez, in
proportion to its extent, more populous than Cairo. These holy men,
being on their way to the city of their prophet, regarded Christians
with an evil eye, just as a bigoted Franciscan travelling to Jerusalem
would regard a heretic or an unbeliever; and on this account Niebuhr
greatly dreaded the voyage he was about to perform in their company
from Suez to Jidda. To avoid, as far as possible, all causes of dispute
with their fellow-passengers, they embarked several days before the
rest, paid their passage, stowed away their luggage, and then amused
themselves with observing the strange characters by which they were
surrounded, not the least extraordinary of which was a rich black
eunuch, who, in imitation of the great Turkish lords, travelled with
his harem.

All the passengers having at length repaired on board, they set sail
on the 9th of October, and sailing along coral reefs, which in bad
weather are highly dangerous, they arrived next day at Tor. Near this
town is a small village inhabited by Christians, to which Forskaal
went alone, for the purpose of visiting what is supposed to be the
site of ancient Elim. While he was absent it was rumoured on board
that the Arabs had formed the intention of pursuing and arresting the
Frank, who had landed with the design of sketching their mountains;
upon which a number of janizaries from Cairo, who happened to be on
board, immediately set out for the village, and having met with M.
Forskaal, conducted him back in safety to the vessel. “Are there many
Christians,” inquires Niebuhr, “who, under similar circumstances, would
do as much for a Jew?”

On the evening of the 16th of October they discovered, about sunset,
the Emerald Mountains on the coast of Egypt, called _Gebel Zumrud_ by
the Arabs. Next day there happened an eclipse of the sun. In Mohammedan
countries persons who are able to calculate an eclipse are regarded as
consummate physicians. Forskaal had informed the reis, or captain, that
an eclipse was about to take place; and to amuse him and keep him from
interrupting his astronomical observations, Niebuhr had smoked several
glasses, through which he, as well as the principal merchants, might
contemplate the phenomenon. They were all greatly amused, and from that
moment Forskaal enjoyed the reputation of being a second Avicenna. From
a spirit of humane complaisance, which induces us to allow every one an
opportunity of exhibiting his peculiar talents, men are exceedingly apt
to fall ill when they come in contact with a physician. Our traveller’s
Mohammedan companions were particularly polite in this way; for no
sooner had they persuaded themselves that there was a physician on
board than they all discovered that they were attacked by diseases
which had previously lain dormant, and confidingly demanded medicines
and advice. Forskaal prescribed for all. To the majority he recommended
more or less sleep, and a careful attention to their diet. A pilgrim
at length presented himself who complained that he was unable to see
during the night. The physician advised him to light a candle. This
was excellent. The Arabs, who are naturally lively, burst into a loud
laugh, and all their diseases were forgotten in a moment.

Between Ras Mohammed and Hassâni the ship was twice in danger of
being set on fire by the negligence of the women; but at length they
reached this small island in safety, and the Mohammedans, believing
the principal danger to be now over, exhibited various tokens of joy,
firing muskets and pistols, illuminating the ship with lamps and
lanterns, and uttering the triumphant cry of _Be, be, be!_ so commonly
used by the orientals. The sailors and the pilot petitioned for a
present, the former coming round to each passenger with a little boat
in their hands, which, when the collection was over, was thrown into
the sea. During this passage Niebuhr, who, up to his arrival at Suez,
had scarcely seen the face of a Mohammedan woman, had an opportunity
of viewing three or four of them naked in a bath; and his indiscreet
curiosity very fortunately entailed upon him no evil consequences.

On the 29th of October they arrived at Jidda, where the usual attempts
were made to defraud the custom-house. In this praiseworthy design some
succeeded to the extent of their desires; but others, less adroit, or
more unfortunate, were detected and compelled to pay the duties, no
such atrocity as the confiscation of the whole property being ever
practised. A duty of two or two and a half _per cent._ being levied
upon all specie, people were most anxious to conceal their wealth: but
by endeavouring to effect this, one of Niebuhr’s companions suffered
severely; for in stepping from the ship into the boat, his purse,
which he had tied round his body, opened accidentally, and about a
hundred crowns fell into the sea. The common cash of the expedition was
conveyed on shore in the bottoms of their boxes of drugs, which were
not searched, it being in Arabia a general opinion that physicians,
having no need of money, seldom carry any about with them.

Niebuhr had observed in Egypt that the populace looked with
inexpressible contempt upon Christians, and thence inferred that in
proportion as they approached the Holy City they should find this
inhospitable bigotry on the increase; but his apprehensions were
unfounded, for the people of Jidda, long accustomed to the sight of
Europeans, and constantly experiencing the humanizing influence of
commerce, were peculiarly refined, allowing strangers to do almost what
they pleased. It was merely forbidden them to approach the Mecca gate;
which, like the city to which it leads, is reputed holy. Our traveller,
during his residence at Cairo, had formed an acquaintance with a poor
sheïkh, who, for a Mohammedan, might be said to be as highly favoured
by science as he was neglected by fortune; and this man, in gratitude
for the knowledge he had derived from him, besides furnishing him
with letters of recommendation to the Kihaya and Pasha of Jidda, had
privately written to those important personages, who had honoured him
for his knowledge, earnestly requesting them to show every possible
mark of kindness and attention to his European friends. These were the
letters from which they had least expectations, and presented last;
nevertheless, when the recommendations of all their other friends
had failed even to procure them a lodging, those of the poor sheïkh
introduced them to powerful protectors. Niebuhr was here witness of the
curious mode of catching wild ducks noticed by Pococke in Upper Egypt,
and by another English traveller in China. When a number of these birds
were observed in the water, the sportsman undressed, covered his head
with seaweed, and then crept quietly into the water. By this means the
ducks were deceived, so that they allowed the man to come near and
catch them by the legs.

They remained at Jidda until the 14th of December, when they embarked
in one of the country vessels for Loheia. Niebuhr was not possessed
of the art of painting what he saw with the fine colours of language.
His narrative is frequently dry even to insipidity. He was observant,
he was calm, he was judicious, but he was destitute of eloquence, and
this deficiency is nowhere in his works more strongly felt than in his
account of his various voyages through the Red Sea. On the 22d they
landed on the coast of Yemen, near Fej el Jelbe, inhabited by Bedouins,
who are suspected of being pagans. A few tents were discovered on the
shore, and as soon as the travellers had landed, which they did unarmed
lest they should be taken for enemies, several of the wild natives
came down to meet them. Their appearance and dress were extraordinary.
Their dark hair descended in profusion to their shoulders; and instead
of a turban, several of them had merely a cord tied round the head,
intended, I imagine, to keep their tresses in order. Others, more
careful and industrious, had woven themselves a kind of bonnet with
green palm-leaves. A miserable waist-cloth constituted the whole of
their dress. From the eagerness of the sailors to get their lances out
of their hands they immediately discovered that they were suspected;
upon which they cast the weapons on the ground, assuring the strangers
that they had nothing to fear. Notwithstanding that they had landed in
search of provisions the Bedouins conducted them to their tents, where
two women came out to meet them. Their salutation was curious. The
women, who were unveiled, kissed the arm of the sheïkh, who, in return,
pressed their heads with his lips. The ladies then advanced towards
the strangers. Their complexion was sallow brown, they had blackened
their eyelids with surme, and died their nails with henne; and, like
the lower ranks of women in Egypt, exhibited marks of tattooing on the
chin, cheeks, and forehead. Cosmetics being rare in those countries,
they requested our travellers to favour them with a small quantity of
kohol and al henne; but they had injudiciously neglected to provide
themselves with any thing of the kind, and consequently saw themselves
in the disagreeable predicament of being compelled to refuse.

On their arrival at Loheia they were received with remarkable
politeness by the emir and the chief merchants of the city. They
had taken the small vessel in which they performed the voyage for a
longer passage as far as Hodeida; and the captain, understanding that
they had some intention of remaining at Loheia, secretly applied to
the emir with a request that he would compel them to complete their
engagement, either by proceeding all the way to Hodeida, or by paying
the whole sum agreed upon. With a generosity not often displayed
towards utter strangers by men in office, the emir replied, that should
the travellers refuse payment of the sum in question, he himself would
satisfy his demands; and the principal merchant to whom the suspicious
navigator also applied entered into the same engagement. Of course they
were not allowed to suffer by their grateful and astonished guests.

The above merchant, in his eastern style of hospitality, gave them a
house to live in during their stay. In return the travellers amused him
and the emir with the effects of their microscopes, telescopes, &c.
These things filled them with wonder; crowds of people, curious but
well-behaved, thronged their court from morning till night, examining
with attention whatever they saw, and expressing their astonishment
at every thing. This was too much for Danish politeness. They hired a
porter, and stationing him at their door, gave strict orders that none
but professional men should be admitted. But the curiosity of the Arabs
was not to be subdued so easily; for, when all other excuses failed,
they feigned illness, and gained admittance under pretence of coming
to consult the physician. Sometimes Dr. Cramer, who appears to have
been an uncouth creature, was requested to favour sick persons with a
visit at their own houses, and one day received a pressing entreaty to
repair without delay to the _emir el bahr_, or captain of the port,
who had need of consulting him. Cramer, not attending to this summons
immediately, was shortly afterward informed that the _emir el bahr’s_
saddle-horse was at the door waiting for him. This piece of attention
was too flattering to be resisted; he therefore descended immediately,
and was about to put his foot into the stirrup, when he was interrupted
with the information that the horse was unwell, and had been brought
there as a patient! Physicians in Arabia prescribe for horses as well
as men; this, therefore, was not meant as an insult; but Cramer, who
felt all his Danish blood curdle in his veins at the bare idea of
prescribing for a Mohammedan horse, and was, moreover, mortified at not
being allowed to mount his patient, indignantly refused to exercise
the functions of a horse-doctor. Luckily, however, their European
servant, who had served in a dragoon regiment, understood something of
the veterinary art, and undertook the cure of the emir’s horse; which
succeeding happily, he also was regarded as an eminent physician, and
was allowed to elevate his ambition to the treatment of men.

As our travellers continued, as far as possible, to live after the
European fashion, their manners were necessarily as much an object of
curiosity to the Arabs as those of the Arabs were to them. One day two
young men came to see them eat. Of these, the one was a young nobleman
from Sana, whose gentle manners announced a superior education; the
other a young chief from the mountains, whose country was seldom
visited by strangers. This the _naïveté_ and simplicity of his manners
soon rendered manifest. Upon being invited to eat, he replied, “God
preserve me from eating with infidels, who have no belief in God!”
Niebuhr then demanded the name of his country; “What,” said he, “can
my country concern thee? Hast thou formed the design of going thither
to subdue it?” He afterward made several remarks upon their manners,
the simplicity of which excited their laughter; at which the Arab
felt ashamed, and ran away in confusion. His companion fetched him
back, however, and he returned, wondering at the amazing quantity of
food which they devoured. Fowl after fowl disappeared before these
mighty eaters; the poor Arab, who began to entertain awful ideas of
the capacity of a German stomach, and apprehending that they might
bring about a famine in the land, for a while looked on in silent
amazement; but when they had already eaten as much as would, perhaps,
have satisfied a whole tribe of Bedouins, he started up, upon seeing
Von Haven preparing to carve yet another fowl, and seizing him by the
arm, exclaimed, “How much, then, dost thou intend to eat?” This sally
produced still louder peals of laughter than ever, and the poor Arab,
who probably apprehended that they might finish by eating him, rushed
out of the house and disappeared.

Having sufficiently observed whatever was interesting or new at Loheia,
they departed thence on the 20th of February, 1763, their servants and
baggage mounted on camels, and themselves on asses. Not that Europeans
were here, as at Cairo, prohibited from riding on horseback, but that
horses were dear and not easily to be hired, while the asses, though
comparatively cheap, were large fine animals, of easy gait. Arabia, it
is well known, is surrounded by a belt of burning sand, which has in
all ages aided in protecting it from invasion. This our travellers had
now to traverse, but they suffered no particular inconvenience from the
heat, and in four days arrived at _Beit el Fakih_, the greatest coffee
emporium in the world.

Niebuhr, being now in a country where travelling was attended with
no risk, and desiring, apparently, to escape from the society of
his companions, hired an ass, and set out alone on an excursion to
several neighbouring towns. This was succeeded by several other
excursions, and at length he proceeded to the Coffee Mountains, a
district which offers, perhaps, as many curious particulars to the
observation of a traveller as any spot in Asia. These mountains could
be ascended only on foot. The road, though rugged and broken, lay
through coffee plantations and gardens, and to Niebuhr, who had just
quitted the burning plains of the Tehama, afforded the most exquisite
gratification. The prospects, moreover, which here meet the eye on all
sides are rich and beautiful. They are precisely what the hills of
Judea must have been before Sion had been profaned by the heathen, when
every man, confident in the protection of the Lord, sat down tranquilly
under his vine or under his fig-tree. The small chain of hills, called
the Côte d’Or, which traverses nearly the whole of Burgundy from north
to south, and is covered with vineyards to the summit, may probably
represent to a European eye the ridge of the Coffee Mountains, except
that the latter have necessarily a more woody appearance, and are
beautified by numerous mountain streams, which frequently leap in long
cascades from the rocks. The coffee-tree, which was at this time in
full flower in many places, diffuses around an agreeable odour, and
somewhat resembles the Spanish jasmin. The Arabs plant these trees so
close that the rays of the sun can scarcely find their way between
them, which prevents the necessity of frequent watering; but they have
reservoirs on the heights from which they can, when necessary, turn
numerous streamlets into the plantations.

From the Coffee Mountains they returned to Beit el Fakih, whence they
shortly afterward departed on another short excursion. The natives, who
carefully abstained from exposing themselves to the sun during the heat
of the day, expressed their well-grounded astonishment that Europeans
should be imprudent enough to hazard so dangerous a step; and our
travellers were, in reality, at this very time laying the foundation of
those fatal diseases which shortly afterward swept them away, Niebuhr
only excepted; for I am persuaded that they might have returned, even
in spite of their execrable diet and destructive habits of drinking,
to brave the climate of Yemen, had they timed their journeys more
judiciously.

By this time their appearance was tolerably oriental; the sun had
bronzed their countenances, their beards had acquired a respectable
length, their dress was exactly that of the country, and they had,
moreover, adopted Arabic names. Even their guides no longer took them
for Europeans, but supposed them to be members of the eastern church,
who by forbidden studies had succeeded in discovering the art of making
gold, and were searching among the lonely recesses of their mountains
for some rare plant whose juices were requisite in their alchymical
processes. Niebuhr’s assiduous observation of the stars considerably
aided in strengthening this delusion, which upon the whole, perhaps,
was rather beneficial to them than otherwise.

In the hilly districts of Yemen our traveller observed among the
Arabs a peculiar mode of passing the night. Instead of making use
of a bed, each individual crept entirely naked into a sack, where,
without closing the mouth of it, the breath and transpiration kept him
sufficiently warm. Niebuhr himself never tried the sack, but very soon
acquired the habit, which is universal among the Arabs of Yemen, of
sleeping with the face covered, to guard against the malignant effects
of the dews and poisonous winds. Here M. Forskaal discovered the small
tree that produces the balm of Mecca, which happening to be in flower
at the time enabled him to write a complete description of it, which he
did seated under its branches. The inhabitants, who knew nothing of its
value, merely made use of it as firewood, on account of its agreeable
odour.

Upon descending from these mountainous countries, where the climate
is as cool and salubrious as in most parts of Europe, Niebuhr found
the heat of the Tehama almost insupportable, and entering a little
coffee-house, overwhelmed with fatigue, threw himself on his mat in
a current of air, and fell asleep. This heedless action nearly cost
him his life. He awoke in a violent fever, which hung about him for a
considerable time, and reduced his frame to such an extreme state of
weakness that the slightest exertion became painful. Von Haven, too,
whose supreme delight consisted in brandy, wine, and good eating, and
who seldom quitted his sofa, except for the purpose of placing himself
before his gods at the dinner-table, now began to experience the
impolicy of feeding like an ogre in the deserts of the Tehama, and very
quickly fell a victim to his imprudence.

From Beit el Fakih they proceeded to Mokha, where, as at Cairo,
Europeans were compelled to enter the city by a particular gate,
on foot, as a mark of humiliation. Niebuhr found that he and his
companions were here taken for Turks, and they were accordingly
directed to the khan, or inn, where the Osmanlis usually took up
their abode. Though they understood that there was an English merchant
at Mokha, they judged it unnecessary, in the first instance, to make
application to him, as they had everywhere else in Yemen been received
with politeness and hospitality; and besides, they were somewhat
apprehensive that, from their dress and appearance, he might be led
to regard them as vagabonds or renegades. They therefore addressed
themselves to an Arab merchant, by whom they were well received.

The people of Mokha made some pretensions to civilization, which is
unfortunate, as the term, at least in the East, means custom-house
officers, and insolence towards strangers. Our travellers, though no
merchants, had large quantities of baggage, which, of course, was taken
to the custom-house, before they could be allowed to enjoy the use
of it. I have already observed, that although Niebuhr himself was a
temperate, perhaps even an abstemious man, his companions set a high
value on the gratification of their senses. Von Haven himself, who,
as I have already observed, shortly afterward fell a victim to his
indiscretion, was still among them, and it may therefore be easily
imagined that the first articles they were desirous of obtaining from
the custom-house were their cooking utensils and their beds. The
Arabs, however, were differently minded. They allowed their curiosity
to fasten upon the cases in which the natural history specimens were
packed, and resolved to begin with them. Among these, unfortunately,
there was a small barrel containing various fish of the Red Sea,
preserved in spirits of wine. This M. Forskaal, who had collected
these fishes himself, injudiciously requested the officers to allow to
pass unopened. The request immediately roused all their suspicions.
He might, for aught they knew, be a magician, who had confined the
Red Sea itself in that barrel, for the purpose of carrying it off,
with all its fishes, into Europe. It behooved them, therefore, to
bestir themselves. Accordingly the barrel was the first thing opened;
but when the operation had been performed, the result anticipated by
the naturalist was produced, for so pungent, so atrocious a stink
was emitted from the half-putrefied fish, that the authorities very
probably apprehended them to be a troop of assassins, commissioned
by the devil to administer perdition through the nostrils to all
true believers. The custom-house officer, however, confiding in the
protection of the Prophet, determined to brave the infernal odour, and
in order to explore the abomination to the bottom, took out the horrid
remains of the fish, and stirred up the liquor with a piece of iron.
The entreaties of the travellers to have it put on one side probably
caused them to be regarded as ghouls, who made their odious repasts
upon such foul preparations. The Arab still stirred and stirred, and at
length in an inauspicious moment upset the cask, and deluged the whole
custom-house with its contents. Had Mohammed himself been boiled in
this liquid, it could not have smelt more execrably; we may therefore
easily imagine the disgust with which the grave assembly beheld it
flowing under their beards, infecting them with a scent which it would
take several dirrhems’ worth of perfume to remove. Their ill-humour
was increased when, on opening another cask, containing insects, their
nostrils were again saluted with a fresh variety of stink, which they
inferred must possess peculiar charms for the nose of a Frank, since
he would travel so far to procure himself the enjoyment of its savour.
An idea now began to suggest itself to the Arabs, which still further
irritated them, which was, that the insolent Franks had packed up
these odious things in order to insult the governor of the city, at
the expense of whose beard, it was not doubted, they intended to amuse
themselves. This persuasion was fatal to many a cockleshell. They
mercilessly thrust down a pointed iron bar through the collections,
crushing shells, and beetles, and spiders. The worst stroke of all,
however, was yet to come. This was the opening of a small cask, in
which several kinds of serpents were preserved in spirits. Everybody
was now terrified. It was suggested that the Franks had no doubt come
to the city for the purpose of poisoning the inhabitants, and had
represented themselves as physicians in order to commit their horrid
crimes the more effectually. Even the governor was now moved. In fact,
his anger was roused to such a pitch, that, though a grave and pious
man, he exclaimed, “By God, these people shall not pass the night in
our city!” The custom-house was then closed.

While they were in this perplexity, one of their servants arrived in
great hurry and confusion, with the news that their books and clothes
had been thrown out through the window at their lodgings, and the door
shut against them. They moreover found, upon inquiry, that it would
be difficult to discover any person who would receive into his house
individuals suspected of meditating the poisoning of the city; but at
length a man bold enough to undertake this was found. Such was their
position when they received from the English merchant above alluded to
an invitation to dinner. “Never,” says Niebuhr, “was an invitation more
gladly accepted; for we not only found at his house a dinner such as we
had never seen since our departure from Cairo, but had at the same time
the good fortune to meet with a man who became our sincere and faithful
friend. The affair of the custom-house was long and tedious; but at
length, by dint of bribery and perseverance, their baggage, snakes
and all, was delivered to them, and they even rose, in consequence
of a cure attempted by M. Cramer on the governor’s leg, into high
consideration and favour.”

Niebuhr was here again attacked by dysentery, and Von Haven died.
This event inspired the whole party with terror, and having with
much difficulty obtained the governor’s permission, they shortly
afterward departed for the interior. They travelled by night, to escape
the extreme heat of the sun, but soon found the roads so bad as to
render this mode of journeying impracticable. The country during the
early part of their route was barren, and but thinly inhabited; but
in proportion as they departed from the shore the landscape improved
in beauty and fertility. At the small city of Jerim, on the road to
Sana, Niebuhr had the misfortune to lose his friend Forskaal, the best
Arabic scholar of the whole party, and a man who looked forward with
enthusiasm to the glory to be derived from the successful termination
of their travels. The bigotry of the Mohammedans rendered it difficult
to obtain a place of burial for the dead, who was interred in the
European fashion; which, immediately after their departure, caused the
Arabs, who imagine that Europeans bury treasures with their dead, to
exhume the body. Finding nothing to reward their pains, they compelled
the Jews to reinter him; and as these honest people complained that
they were likely to have no remuneration for their labour, the governor
allowed them to take the coffin in payment, and restore the body naked
to the earth.

On the 17th of July, 1763, they arrived in the environs of Sana, and
sent forward a servant with a letter, announcing their arrival to the
chief minister of the imam. This statesman, however, who had previously
received tidings of their approach, and was desirous of receiving
them with true Arab politeness, had already despatched one of his
secretaries to meet them at the distance of half a league from the
city. This gentleman informed them that they had been long expected
at Sana, and that, in order to render their stay agreeable, the imam
had assigned them a country-house at _Bir el Assab_. While they were
conversing with the secretary, and secretly congratulating themselves
on their good fortune, they arrived at the entrance into their garden,
where the Arab desired them to alight. They of course obeyed, but soon
discovered that their guide had played them a trick in the manner of
the people of Cairo, for he remained on his ass during the rest of
the way, which was considerable, enjoying the pleasure of beholding a
number of Franks toiling along on foot beside his beast. This put them
out of humour, and their spleen was increased when, on arriving at
their villa, they found that, however elegant or agreeable it might be,
it did not contain a single article of furniture, or a person who would
provide them even with bread and water.

Next day, however, they received from the imam a present of five sheep,
three camel-loads of wood, a large quantity of wax-tapers, rice, and
spices. At the same time they were informed that two days at least
would elapse before they could obtain an audience, a matter about which
they were indifferent; but that they could not in the mean time quit
their house. Though considerably chagrined at the latter circumstance,
they hoped in some measure to neutralize its effects, by receiving
the visits of such natives as curiosity, or any other motive, might
allure to the house; and accordingly were very much gratified at the
appearance of a Jew, who had performed in their company the journey
from Cairo to Loheia. This young Israelite, delighted to spend a
few moments in the company of persons who received him without any
demonstrations of contempt, appeared to experience a gratification in
obliging them; and came on the second day accompanied by one of the
most celebrated astrologers of his sect, from whom Niebuhr learned the
Hebrew appellations of several stars. While he was yet conversing with
this learned descendant of Abraham, the secretary of the imam arrived.
They were ignorant of the etiquette of the court of Sana, according to
which they should have abstained from receiving as well as from paying
visits; but the secretary, whose business it was to have instructed
them on these points, doubly enraged by their infraction of the rules
of decorum, and by a sense of his own negligence, directed all the
violence of his fury against the unfortunate Jews, whose society he
imagined must have been equally disagreeable to the travellers as it
would have been to him. He therefore not only expelled them from the
house, but, in order to protect the imam’s guests from a repetition
of the same intrusion, gave peremptory orders to their Mohammedan
attendant to admit no person whatever until they should have obtained
their audience.

Two days after their arrival they were admitted into the presence of
the imam. It is probable that, having previously formed an exalted
idea of the splendour of oriental princes, the reader will be liable
to disappointment on the present occasion. The riches and magnificence
of the califs, however, of which we find so many glowing descriptions
in the Thousand and One Nights, in D’Herbelot, and many other writers,
have long passed away, leaving to the successors of those religious
monarchs nothing but remembrance of ancient glory, which gleams like a
meteoric light about their throne and diadem. Niebuhr, arriving at Sana
from the sandy deserts of the Tehama, where poverty reigns paramount
over every thing, enjoyed the advantage of possessing an imagination
sobered by stern realities. His fancy depicted the court of the imam in
the livery of the desert. He expected little. If he was disappointed,
therefore, it was not disagreeably.

The imam, with a vanity pardonable enough in a prince who learns from
his cradle to estimate his own greatness by the pomp and glitter
which surround him, had in fact employed the two days elapsed since
the arrival of his guests in active preparations for their reception;
and the rules of etiquette forbidding strangers to pay or receive
visits during the interval, were originally intended to conceal this
circumstance, and create the belief that the holyday appearance of
the court was its ordinary costume. Our travellers were conducted to
the palace by the minister’s secretary, who here performed what is
called the mehmandar’s office in Persia. They found the great court
of the edifice thronged with horses, officers, and other Arabs of
various grades; so that it required the ministry of the imam’s grand
equerry to open them a way through the crowd. The hall of audience was
a spacious square apartment, vaulted above, and having on its centre
several fountains of water, which, gushing aloft to a considerable
height, and falling again incessantly, maintained a refreshing coolness
in the air. A broad divan, adorned with fine Persian carpets, occupied
the extremity of the hall, and flanked the throne, which was merely
covered with silken stuffs, and rich cushions. Here the imam sat
cross-legged, according to the custom of the East. He received the
travellers graciously, allowed them to kiss the hem of his garment, and
the back and palm of his hand--an honour which is but sparingly granted
to strangers. At the conclusion of this ceremony a herald cried aloud,
“God save the imam!” and all the people repeated the same words. As
their knowledge of Arabic was still very limited, they conversed with
the imam by means of an interpreter, a contrivance admirably adapted
for shortening public conferences, since there are few persons who,
under such circumstances, would be disposed to indulge in useless
circumlocution.

The result of this audience was, that they obtained the prince’s
permission to remain in the country as long as they desired; and on
their retiring, a small present in money was sent them, which they
judiciously determined to accept. In the afternoon of the same day
they were invited to the minister’s villa, where Niebuhr exhibited
his mathematical instruments, his microscopes, books, engravings, &c.;
at the sight of which Fakih Achmed expressed the highest satisfaction.
From the various questions which he put to them, they discovered,
moreover, that he himself was a man of very considerable knowledge,
particularly in geography; while from his constant intercourse with
foreigners his manners had acquired an ease and gracefulness which
rendered his company highly pleasing. Nevertheless, Niebuhr, who feared
that the cupidity of this minister, or of some other courtier, might be
excited by the sight of his instruments, regretted to perceive these
tokens of curiosity, and the necessity he was under of satisfying it;
but his suspicions, which appear to have been as unfounded as they
were illiberal, were not of long duration, for no man demanded of him
any part of his property, or seemed to regard it with covetousness.
He, in fact, learned shortly afterward that even the presents which it
was judged necessary to make both to the imam and his minister were
altogether unexpected, since they were not merchants, and demanded no
favours of prince or courtiers.

Niebuhr confesses that the reception which he and his companions met
with at Sana was marked by a degree of civility and friendship that
far surpassed their expectations. The Arabs would seem, indeed, to
have derived so much gratification from their society, that it is
more than probable they would willingly have made some sacrifice to
retain them; but the death of Von Haven and Forskaal had cast a damp
over their imaginations; they apprehended that disease might even
then be undermining their constitutions, and were therefore more
desirous of flying from the country than of studying its productions
or its inhabitants. When they departed from Mokha several English
ships were lying there, taking in cargoes of coffee for India; and
this circumstance, by promising to facilitate their progress farther
towards the east, operated strongly upon their determination to quit
Arabia, the original object of their mission, for other regions which
appeared more agreeable. One of Niebuhr’s biographers appears to
think that it was mere solicitude to transmit to Europe an account of
what had been performed by the expedition, and not any apprehension
of danger, which rendered him so exceedingly desirous of quitting
Yemen, for that he never clung to life with any great eagerness. I
have by no means an unfavourable opinion of Niebuhr’s courage, which,
on the contrary, I consider to have been in general equal to the
dangers to which he was exposed; but I nowhere find any traces of that
stoical indifference about life and death which his biographer seems
to attribute to him; and am persuaded, that on the occasion of his
departure from Sana, it was the apprehension of death, united, perhaps,
with a longing for European society, which actuated his movements.
At the same time I acknowledge that his fears were natural, and that
most travellers under similar circumstances would have acted much the
same way. We miss, however, in Niebuhr, both on this and on all other
occasions, the chivalrous spirit of Marco Polo, Pietro della Valle,
Chardin, and Bruce, as we miss in his writings the enthusiasm which
casts so powerful a charm over the records of their adventures.

The same reasons which induce me to acknowledge the rational nature
of Niebuhr’s apology for suddenly quitting Yemen long before he had
completed his examination and description of it, incline me likewise
to accept his reasons for avoiding the road by Jerim and Táäs, which
would have led him by Haddâfa and Dhâfar, where Hamyaric inscriptions
were said to exist. He had already been frequently deceived by the
misrepresentations of Arabic ignorance, and therefore doubted the
accuracy of his informants. The three remaining members of the mission
set out from Sana on the 26th of July, and, arriving at Mokha on the
5th of August, found that their apprehensions of danger at Sana, which,
though excusable, were not well founded, had precipitated them into
real peril; for the English ship in which they intended to embark was
by no means ready to sail, so that they had to remain in that burning
climate nearly a whole month, during which almost every individual in
the party, servants and all, fell sick.

The ship in which Niebuhr at length set sail for India belonged to Mr.
Francis Scott, a younger son of the Scotts of Harden, a jacobite family
of Roxburghshire. With this gentleman Niebuhr ever after lived on terms
of intimate friendship; and “five-and-thirty years afterward,” says our
traveller’s son, the historian of the Roman republic, “when I studied
in Edinburgh, I was received in all respects as one of the family in
the house of this venerable man, who then lived at his ease in the
Scottish capital on the fortune he had acquired by honourable industry.”

On his arrival at Bombay he met with the most cordial reception from
the English, in whose society he had first learned to delight while in
Egypt. Here he spent a considerable time in studying the manners and
customs of the Hindoos, and his observations, though now destitute of
value, must at that time have possessed considerable interest, above
all on the Continent. He here lost Cramer, the last of his companions;
Baurenfeind, the artist, having died on the voyage. During his stay at
Bombay he made a voyage to Surat, famous in the history of oriental
commerce and in the Arabian Nights; but his stay was short, and he
returned to Bombay without pushing his researches any farther into the
interior. The passion for travelling was certainly never very powerful
in Niebuhr; but he was posessed by considerable curiosity, and this
passion induced him to form the design of proceeding in an English ship
to China; but being unwell at the time of the ship’s departure, he
relinquished the design, which he never afterward resumed.

His residence at Bombay, a much less healthy place than Sana, was
continued so long, that I am strongly inclined to suspect the want of
European society may, after all, have numbered among his most powerful
reasons for hurrying from Yemen. From this city he forwarded the
manuscripts of his deceased companions as well as his own papers, by
way of London, to Copenhagen; and at length, on the 8th of December,
1764, set sail in one of the company’s ships of war, bound for Muskat
and the Persian Gulf. During this voyage he beheld the surface of
the sea for half a German mile in extent covered at night with that
luminous appearance which we denominate “phosphoric fires;” and which,
according to his opinion, arises entirely from shoals of medusas, which
by the English sailors are called “blubbers.” A few days afterward,
as they approached the shore of Oman, they were accompanied for a
considerable distance by a troop of dolphins, which, by the persevering
manner in which they followed the ship, seemed, as Lucian jocularly
observes, to be animated by a kind of philanthropy, as when they bore
Melicerta and Arion to the shore on their backs.

They arrived at Muskat on the 3d of January, 1765; and here Niebuhr,
had the interior of Arabia possessed any attractions for him, had once
more an opportunity of indulging his curiosity, and fulfilling the
original design of the expedition; for, from the humane and polished
manners of the people of Oman, travelling was here, he says, attended
with no more danger than in Yemen. He preferred, however, ascending the
Persian Gulf in an English ship; and therefore, after a stay of a few
days, set sail for Abusheher, where he arrived on the 4th of February.

Here Niebuhr, who had learned the English language at Bombay, found
himself still in the company of one of our countrymen, from whom
he obtained a plan of the city, together with much curious and
valuable information respecting the country and its inhabitants.
This Englishman, whose name was Jervis, spoke, read, and wrote the
Persian with fluency, and amused himself with making a collection of
manuscripts in that language; among which was the “Life of Nadir Shah,”
by his own private secretary Mohammed Mahadi Khan. The authenticity of
this work was so highly spoken of in Persia, that Niebuhr was at some
pains to procure a copy of it for the King of Denmark’s library; and
it was from this copy that Sir William Jones afterward compiled his
“History of Nadir Shah,” once celebrated, but now sunk into oblivion.
At Abusheher our traveller saw several of that species of cat numbers
of which are now brought into Europe from Angola. They were procured
from Kermân, and it was said that they would nowhere breed except in
those countries in which the shawl goat was found--an opinion which has
long been proved to have been erroneous.

Shortly after Niebuhr’s arrival at Abusheher, Mr. Jervis determined
upon sending a quantity of merchandise to Shiraz; and his intention was
no sooner made public, than a number of petty merchants, together with
several families from the interior, who had been expelled from their
homes by the troubles consequent upon the death of Nadir Shah, desired
to unite themselves to his party; and thus a small kafilah was at once
formed. So excellent an opportunity of visiting the most beautiful city
of Persia, as well as the famous ruins of Persepolis, was not to be
overlooked. Our traveller therefore joined the trading caravan, and on
the 15th of February set out for the interior.

For this journey, however, he was but badly prepared. He was wholly
ignorant of the Persian language, and therefore, had he not by great
good fortune found some persons among the party who spoke Arabic, as
well as an Armenian who was a tolerable master of the Italian, he must
have been reduced to depend upon the universal but scanty language of
signs. Strange to say, likewise, he had abandoned the oriental costume,
though fully aware, by his own account, of the advantages to be
derived from it by a traveller. In other respects he conducted himself
judiciously; for, understanding that the English, notwithstanding the
troubled state of Persia, had nowhere any thing to fear, he represented
himself as an Englishman; and thus, without passport or formal
permission, he travelled with perfect freedom and safety. He observed
during this journey a curious superstition among the Armenians, of
which he had nowhere else discovered any traces: having despatched his
servant upon some business at a distance from the encampment, he was
one day compelled to act as his own cook, and was about to cut off
the head of a fowl. His face at that moment happening to be turned
towards the west, an Armenian who was present informed him that a
Christian should turn his face to the east when he killed a fowl, no
less than when he prayed. Others (as the affair was a serious business)
conjectured that he turned towards Mecca, either that his servant,
who was a Mohammedan, might conscientiously partake of the food, or
because that in reality was his _kebleh_. Seeing, however, that people
endeavoured to decide respecting his religion by the mode in which he
slaughtered a hen, he for the future relinquished to his servant the
art and mystery of cookery.

Our traveller had an opportunity, near Firashbend, of visiting a
Turkoman camp. He found them rich in camels, horses, asses, cows, and
sheep. Their women, like those of the Bedouins, enjoyed the most
perfect liberty, and wore no veils. These Turkoman women were said to
be exceedingly laborious, and the small carpets so universal in Persia
were of their workmanship. He likewise beheld a Kurdish family. Farther
on, he had a very laughable adventure with a troop of Armenian women,
which, as characteristic at once of the Armenians and of himself,
merits some attention. Having travelled for some time through rain and
hail, the kafilah at length halted, near the village of _Romshun_, in
which Niebuhr hired a horse for a day, and purchased a quantity of
wood, in the hope of enjoying a good fire until bedtime. Not desiring,
however, to taste of these blessings alone, he invited several
Armenians to share the advantage of his apartments, which they most
readily accepted. Presently, however, a number of women and children
presented themselves for admission, and appeared extremely well
satisfied when he granted them permission to place themselves inside
of the door. He had shortly afterward occasion to leave the house for
a moment. Upon his return, he found the husbands of the women seated
near the entrance of the house, while the whole harem had established
itself round the fire! and conceiving that it might be imprudent to sit
down by the fire among the women, or to drive them away from it, he
allowed them, though certainly not from politeness, to dry themselves
first. Here he was detained for twenty-four hours by bad weather.
The apartments which he occupied were on the second story, and his
horse, which had its quarters in the adjoining chamber, being somewhat
restless in the night, broke through the floor, and fell down into the
landlord’s apartment below!

The kafilah reached Shiraz on the 4th of March. Here he was hospitably
received and entertained by the only European in the city, a young
English merchant, whose name he should have been at the pains to
learn, for assuredly it was not, as he imagined, _Mr. Hercules_.
His stay at Shiraz was rendered agreeable by the politeness of the
governor, who, at his first audience, informed him that he would
decapitate the first person who should offer him any injury in his
territories. The audience being over, one of the governor’s friends
undertook to show them the palace. Several of the apartments were
coated with beautiful Tabriz marble, and covered with magnificent
carpets; and among the ornaments of the palace were numerous European
mirrors, and pictures of Persian workmanship, among which was one
representing a woman bathing, almost wholly naked. Niebuhr was greatly
surprised to find pictures of this kind in the house of a Mohammedan;
but, in fact, the _Shiahs_ are far less rigid on this point than the
_Soonnees_; and we learn from the Arabian Nights, that even so early
as the time of Haroon al Rashid painting was encouraged in Persia and
Mesopotamia, since that celebrated prince is said to have adorned his
palace with the performances of the principal Persian artists.

From Shiraz he proceeded to the ruins of Persepolis, the site and
nature of which I have already had occasion to describe in the lives of
Chardin and Kæmpfer. His head-quarters during his stay was at the small
village of Merdast. From thence, as well as from the other villages,
the peasants frequently came to observe him during his examination of
the ruins, in which he constantly employed the whole day, from eight
o’clock in the morning until five in the afternoon. The majority of
these visiters were women and young girls, who were curious to see a
European; and the whole of the population were so entirely harmless,
that the traveller felt himself as safe in their company as he could
have been in any village in Europe. He here received a visit from an
Arab sheïkh, a learned, polished, and agreeable man, who had passed
thirty years in Persia, during which time he had amassed considerable
wealth, and now lived in independence and ease.

From Persepolis he returned by the way of Shiraz to Abusheher, where
he embarked in one of the country vessels for the island of Karak,
where he was hospitably received and entertained by the Dutch merchants
settled there; and after a short stay, proceeded to Bassorah. Here he
embarked in a small vessel which was about to sail up the Euphrates
to Hillah. His companion, during this voyage, was an officer of the
janizary corps, who lay in a small chamber close to Niebuhr’s cabin,
and appeared to be at the point of death. In other respects this little
voyage, which occupied twenty-one days, was sufficiently agreeable.
The passengers were remarkable for their good-humour and obliging
disposition; and often, when our traveller set up his quadrant on the
banks of the stream, they stood round him in a circle, while he was
making his observations, to screen him from the wind with their long
flowing dresses.

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.

Before the completion of his work, however, he was seized with an
apoplectic fit, which made his friends despair of his life. He was
advised to make trial of the waters of Aix-la-Chapelle, whither he
removed, accompanied by the Princess de Bauffremont, his second wife.
Here he died on the 22d of June, 1817. It was now feared by all those
who had properly appreciated his labours, that the concluding portion
of his work, without which the former parts would be comparatively
valueless, might never appear; but a publisher was at length found to
undertake the expensive and hazardous enterprise. He purchased from the
Princess de Bauffremont all the papers, charts, drawings, engravings,
and copper-plates of her deceased husband, and with a taste, zeal, and
industry for which the arts are indebted to him, completed the “Voyage
Pittoresque de la Grèce” in a style worthy of the commencement. The
portrait of the Comte de Choiseul, which M. Blaise, the publisher,
caused to be engraved by a distinguished French artist, is a
masterpiece of its kind; but there still remain many splendid drawings,
and several valuable maps and charts of various parts of Greece, which
may some day, perhaps, be published as a supplement, or in a second
edition, should it be called for by the public.



JOHN LEWIS BURCKHARDT.

Born 1784.--Died 1817.


This traveller, descended from an eminent family of Basle, in
Switzerland, was born at Lausanne, in 1784. He was the eighth child of
John Rodolph Burckhardt, whose prospects in life were early blighted
by his adherence to the Austrian faction during the troubles in
Switzerland, consequent upon the French revolution. Our traveller,
led by hereditary prejudices to nourish an aversion for republican
principles, or too young and hot-headed not to confound the agents with
the cause, imbibed at a very early age a detestation for the French,
at that period regarded as the representatives of republicanism;
and, with the same spirit which induced Pietro della Valle to engage
in a crusade against the Turks, he wished to serve in the armies of
some nation at war with France. These wishes, however, were the mere
hallucinations of a boy, or an echo of the sentiments which he heard
uttered by others. His education had not been completed: his notions
were necessarily crude, and he had neither discovered nor learned from
others the paramount importance of freedom, without which even national
independence is a vain possession.

Burckhardt’s studies were, from various causes, conducted in the manner
best calculated to create and nourish restless and adventurous habits.
Having received the first rudiments of his education in his father’s
house, he was removed to a school at Neufchatel, where he remained two
years. At the age of sixteen he was entered a student at the university
of Leipzig; from whence, after four years’ residence, he proceeded
to Göttingen, where he continued another year. He then returned to
his parents. The natural firmness and consistency of his character,
of which his countenance was strikingly expressive, still taught him
to keep alive his hatred of the French; but no continental nation had
preserved itself wholly free from the influence of this people; and
therefore, rejecting an offer which was made him by one of the petty
courts of Germany, desirous of numbering him among its diplomatic
body, he turned his thoughts towards England, which, like a separate
world, had remained inviolate from the tread of the enemy. Accordingly,
having provided himself with letters of introduction to several persons
of distinction, among which was one from Professor Blumenbach to Sir
Joseph Banks, he set out for London, where he arrived in the month of
July, 1806.

This step was the pivot upon which the whole circle of his short
life was destined to turn. His introduction to Sir Joseph Banks, who
had long been an active member of the African Association, almost
necessarily brought him into contact with several other individuals
connected with that celebrated society; and conversations with these
persons, whose motives were at least respectable, and whose enthusiasm
was unbounded, naturally begot in Burckhardt a corresponding warmth,
and transformed him, from a Quixotic crusader against the French, into
an ardent, ambitious traveller.

It should not be dissembled that, upon Burckhardt’s desire to
travel for the African Association being communicated to Sir Joseph
Banks and Dr. Hamilton (then acting secretary to that body), strong
representations of the dangers to be encountered in the execution
of the plan were made to the youthful aspirant after fame; but such
representations, which are a delusive kind of peace-offering placed for
form’s sake on the altar of conscience, are seldom sincerely designed
to effect their apparent purpose; and the actors in the farce would,
for the most part, experience extreme chagrin should they find their
eloquence prove successful. At all events, few men are so ignorant as
not to know that the aspect of danger wears a certain charm for youth,
which naturally associates therewith an idea of honour; and, provided
success be probable, or even possible, reckons obstacles of every kind
among the incentives to exertion. These dissuasive speeches, therefore,
from persons whose sole object in constituting themselves into a
public body was to produce a directly opposite result, were altogether
hypocritical; and Burckhardt, if he possessed half the sagacity
which seems to have entered into his character, must have distinctly
perceived this, and have despised them accordingly.

However this may be, his offer, which was laid before the association
at the general meeting of May, 1808, was “willingly accepted;” and
he immediately commenced all those preparations which were necessary
to the proper accomplishment of his undertaking. He employed himself
diligently in the study of the Arabic language both in London and
Cambridge, as well as in the acquiring of a knowledge of several
branches of science, such as chymistry, astronomy, mineralogy,
medicine, and surgery; he likewise allowed his beard to grow, assumed
the oriental dress, “and in the intervals of his studies he exercised
himself by long journeys on foot, bare-headed, in the heat of the sun,
sleeping upon the ground, and living upon vegetables and water.”

On the 25th of January, 1809, he received his instructions, by which
he was directed to proceed in the first instance to Syria, where,
it was supposed, he might complete his knowledge of the Arabic, and
acquire oriental habits and manners at a distance from the scene of his
researches, and where he was not likely to meet with any individuals
who might afterward recognise him at an inconvenient moment.

Burckhardt sailed from Cowes on the 2d of March, 1809, in a
merchant-ship, proceeding to the Mediterranean, and arrived at Malta in
the middle of April. From thence, in a letter to Sir Joseph Banks, he
transmitted an account of the attempt to explore the interior of Africa
which was at that time meditated by Dr. Seetzen, a German physician,
who shortly afterward perished, not without suspicions of poison, in
Yemen; and of a recent eruption of Mount Etna, the description of which
he obtained from the letter of an English gentleman.

During his stay at Malta he completed his equipment in the oriental
manner, and assumed the character of an Indian Mohammedan merchant,
bearing despatches from the East India Company to Mr. Barker, British
consul, and the company’s agent at Aleppo. Meanwhile he carefully
avoided all intercourse with such persons from Barbary as happened to
be in the island; and when he met parties of them in the street, as
he often did, the _salaam alaikum_, given and returned, was all that
passed between them. There was at this time a Swiss regiment in the
English service at Malta, to many of the officers of which Burckhardt
was personally known. To be recognised by these gentlemen would at once
have proved fatal to his assumed character; he therefore appeared in
public cautiously, and but seldom; but had at length the satisfaction
of finding that his disguise was so complete as to enable him to pass
unknown and unnoticed.

Our traveller here entered into arrangements with a Greek, respecting
his passage from this island to Cyprus; but on the very morning of his
expected departure he received information that the owner of the ship
had directed the captain to proceed to Tripoly. His baggage was in
consequence transferred to another ship, said to be bound for the same
island; “but the very moment I was embarking,” says Burckhardt, “the
new captain told me that he was not quite sure whether he should touch
at Cyprus, his ship being properly bound for Acre. I had now the option
to wait at Malta, perhaps another month or two, for an opportunity for
Cyprus or the coast of Syria, or to run the chance of disembarking at
a place where there was no person whatever to whom I could apply for
advice or protection. Luckily an Arab of Acre, then at Malta, happened
to be known to Mr. Barker, jun.; in half an hour’s time a letter for
a merchant at Acre, with another in case of need for the pasha, were
procured, and I embarked and sailed the same morning, in the hope of
finding, when arrived at Acre, a passage for Tripoly (Syria), or for
Latakia. However, we were no sooner out of sight of the island, than
it was made known to me that the real destination of the ship was the
coast of Caramania, that the captain had orders to touch first at the
port of Satalia, then at that of Tarsus; and that if grain could not be
purchased at an advantageous price at either of these places, in that
case only he was to proceed to Acre. My remonstrances with the captain
would have been vain: nothing was left to me but to cultivate his good
graces and those of my fellow-travellers, as the progress of my journey
must depend greatly upon their good offices. The passengers consisted,
to my astonishment, of a rich Tripoline merchant, who owned part of
the ship, two other Tripolines, and two negro slaves. I introduced
myself among them as an Indian Mohammedan merchant, who had been from
early years in England, and was now on his way home; and I had the good
fortune to make my story credible enough to the passengers as well
as to the ship’s company. During the course of our voyage numerous
questions were put to me relative to India, its inhabitants, and its
language, which I answered as well as I could: whenever I was asked
for a specimen of the Hindoo language, I answered in the worst dialect
of the Swiss German, almost unintelligible even to a German, and
which in its guttural sounds may fairly rival the harshest utterance
of Arabic. Every evening we assembled upon deck to enjoy the cooling
sea-breeze and to smoke our pipes. While one of the sailors was amusing
his companions with story-telling, I was called upon to relate to my
companions the wonders of the farthest east; of the grand mogul, and
the riches of his court; of the widows in Hindostan burning themselves;
of the Chinese, their wall, and great porcelain tower,” &c.

They sailed along the southern coast of Candia, saw Rhodes at a great
distance, and arrived in a few days at Satalia in Caramania. Here the
plague, it was found, was raging in the town; but this circumstance did
not prevent the Tripoline merchant from landing and disposing of his
merchandise, nor the captain from receiving him again on board. When
their business with this town was completed, they again set sail, and
after coasting for three days along the shore of Caramania, arrived
in the roads of Mersin, from whence Burckhardt and several of his
companions proceeded by land on an excursion to Tarsus. Finding here
a ship bound for the coast of Syria, our traveller left the Maltese
vessel in order to proceed by this new conveyance: “In taking leave of
the Tripoline,” says he, “I took off my sash, a sort of red cambric
shawl, of Glasgow manufacture, which he had always much admired,
thinking it to be Indian stuff, and presented it to him as a keepsake
or reward for his good services. He immediately unloosened his turban,
and twisted the shawl in its stead round his head: making me many
professions of friendship, and assuring me of his hospitality, if ever
the chance of mercantile pursuits should again engage me to visit the
Mediterranean, and perhaps Tripoly in Barbary.”

Burckhardt reached the coast of Syria at that point where the Aasi,
the ancient Orontis, falls into the sea; and immediately prepared
to depart for Aleppo with a caravan. Having been intrusted with
several chests for the British consul at Aleppo, his baggage appeared
considerable; and he was consequently sent for by the aga, who expected
a handsome present for permitting them to pass. When questioned by this
officer respecting the contents of the chests, he replied that he was
entirely ignorant of the matter, but suspected that among other things
there was a sort of French drink, called _beer_, with various kinds of
eatables. The aga now sent an officer to examine them. A bottle of beer
having been broken in loading, “the man tasted it by putting his finger
into the liquor, and found it abominably bitter: such was his report to
the aga. As a sample of the eatables, he produced a potato which he had
taken out of one of the barrels, and that noble root excited general
laughter in the room: ‘It is well worth while,’ they said, ‘to send
such stuff to such a distance.’ The aga tasted of the raw potato, and
spitting it out again, swore at the Frank’s stomach which could bear
such food.” The mean opinion which these specimens inspired them with
for such merchandise inclined the aga to be content with the trifling
sum of ten piastres, which he probably thought more than the value of a
whole ship’s cargo of potatoes and beer.

Upon the arrival of the caravan at Antakia, our traveller, desirous of
studying the manners of all ranks of men, took up his quarters in the
khan of the muleteers, where, from a suspicion that he was a Frank in
disguise, he was subjected to numerous indignities. The aga’s dragoman,
some wretched Frenchman or Piedmontese, being sent by his master to
discover the truth, and failing to effect his purpose by any other
means, determined, as a last resource, on pulling him by the beard, and
at the same time asked him familiarly why he had suffered such a thing
to grow? To this Burckhardt replied by striking him on the face, which
turned the laugh against the poor dragoman, and was an argument so
peculiarly Mohammedan that it seems to have convinced the bystanders of
the truth of his assertions.

After a delay of four days he continued his journey with the caravan,
with the motley members of which he was compelled to maintain an
unceasing struggle in defence of his assumed character; a circumstance
which proves one of two things, either that the Saonees of the west
have by intercourse with Europeans been rendered more acute in
discovering impostors, than the Shiahs of Afghanistan and Northern
Persia, or that Burckhardt was hitherto somewhat unskilful in his
movements; for the reader will no doubt remember that Forster, when he
professed Mohammedanism, had much fewer suspicions to combat on his way
through Central Asia.

On his arrival at Aleppo, he determined, in pursuance of the advice
of Mr. Barker, to put off his Mohammedan disguise, though he still
retained the Turkish dress; and with the aid of an able master,
recommenced the study of the Arabic, both literal and vulgar. He was
attacked, however, shortly after his arrival, by a strong inflammatory
fever, which lasted a fortnight; and was occasioned, as he conjectured,
by the want of sleep, of which blessing he had been deprived by the
prodigious colonies of that “friendly beast to man” which, according
to Sir Hugh Evans, “signifies love,” which had established themselves
in his garments during his stay at the khan of Antakia. When this
seasoning was over, his health appeared to be improved, and he found
the climate finer and more salubrious than he had expected.

During his stay in this city, which was a very protracted one,
Burckhardt laboured assiduously in fitting himself for the honourable
performance of the task he had undertaken. His Arabic studies were
uninterrupted. Besides seizing eagerly on every opportunity of
improving himself by conversation with the natives, he laboured at
an attempt to transform “Robinson Crusoe” into an Arabian tale. He
moreover succeeded in making the acquaintance of several sheïkhs, and
other literary men, who honoured him occasionally with a visit; a
favour, he says, which he owed principally to Mr. Wilkins’s “Arabic
and Persian Dictionary.” The ordinary lexicons of the country being
very defective, the learned Turks were often obliged to have recourse
to Wilkins, whose learning and exactness sometimes compelled them to
exclaim, “How wonderful that a Frank should know more of our language
than our first ulmas!”

In the month of July, 1810, Burckhardt departed from Aleppo under
the protection of an Arab sheïkh, of the Aenezy tribe, who undertook
to escort him to Palmyra, and thence through the Haurān to Damascus.
On the way they were attacked, while the sheïkh was absent at a
watering-place, by the hostile Marváli Arabs, by whom our traveller
was robbed of his watch and compass; after which he pushed on into the
desert to rejoin the chief. Contrary to the well-known faith of the
Arabs, this man transferred to another the protection of his guest,
thereby exposing him to be robbed a second time, at Palmyra, where the
bandit in authority, finding that he had no money, contented himself
with seizing upon his saddle. Returning from these ruins, he found at
Yerud a letter from the sheïkh, forbidding him to proceed towards the
Haurān, because, as the writer asserted, the invasion of the Wahabis
had rendered that portion of the country unsafe, even to himself and
his Arabs. In consequence of this fraudulent conduct of the sheïkh,
for the excuse was a fiction, he found himself necessitated to take
the road to Damascus; disappointed in part, but upon the whole well
satisfied with having beheld those magnificent ruins in the desert
which have charmed so many strangers, and with having at the same time
enjoyed so many occasions of observing the Bedouins under their own
tents, where he was everywhere received with hospitality and kindness.

The rich and well-cultivated environs of Damascus, which all
travellers, from Mohammed to the present day, have admired, appeared to
great advantage to the eye of Burckhardt, accustomed to be sickened by
the signs of misery which surround Aleppo. “The unsettled state of the
government of Damascus,” says he, “obliged me to prolong my stay there
for upwards of six weeks. I again left it in the middle of September,
to visit Baalbec and Libanus. My route lay through Zahle, a small but
prosperous town on the western side of the valley Bekan, the ancient
Cœlosyria, and from thence to Baalbec, where I remained three days;
then to the top of the Libanus, the Cedars, and Kannobin, from whence,
following the highest summits of the mountain, I returned to Zahle by
the villages called Akoura and Afki.”

After proceeding southward to the territory of the Druses, and Mount
Hermon, he returned to Damascus; whence, after a short stay, he made an
excursion into the Haurān, the patrimony of Abraham, which four years
before had been in part visited by Dr. Seetzen, previous to his tour
round the Dead Sea. “During a fatiguing journey of twenty-six days,”
says Burckhardt, “I explored this country as far as five days’ journey
to the south and south-east of Damascus; I went over the whole of the
Jebel Haurān, or mountain of the Druses, who have in these parts a
settlement of about twenty villages; I passed Bozra, a place mentioned
in the books of Moses, and not to be confounded with Boostra; I then
entered the desert to the south-east of it, and returned afterward to
Damascus through the rocky district on the foot of the Jebel Haurān,
called El Leja. At every step I found vestiges of ancient cities; saw
the remains of many temples, public edifices, and Greek churches; met
at Shohbe with a well-preserved amphitheatre, at other places with
numbers of still standing columns, and had opportunities of copying
many Greek inscriptions, which may serve to throw some light upon the
history of this almost forgotten corner. The inscriptions are for
the greater part of the lower empire, but some of the most elegant
ruins have their inscriptions dated from the reigns of Trajan and M.
Aurelius. The Haurān, with its adjacent districts, is the spring and
summer rendezvous of most of the Arab tribes, who inhabit in winter
time the great Syrian desert, called by them El Hammad. They approach
the cultivated lands in search of grass, water, and corn, of which last
they buy up in the Haurān their yearly provision.”

Having to a certain extent satisfied his curiosity respecting this
obscure country, he returned by way of Homs and Hamah towards Aleppo,
where he arrived on the New-year’s day of 1811. He now meditated an
excursion into the desert towards the Euphrates, but was for some time
prevented from putting his design in execution by the troubled state
of the country, two powerful Arab tribes, the one inimical, the other
friendly to the Aleppines, having been for many months at war with each
other. Burckhardt at length succeeded, however, in placing himself
under the protection of the Sheïkh of Sukhne, and set out towards the
desert: but his own account of this journey was lost, and all that can
now be known of it is to be gathered from a letter from Mr. Barker,
the celebrated British consul at Aleppo, to whose princely hospitality
so many travellers of all nations have been indebted. “One hundred and
twenty, or one hundred and fifty miles below the ruins of Membigeh, in
the Zor,” says this gentleman, “there is a tract on the banks of the
Euphrates possessed by a tribe of very savage Arabs. Not far from them
is the village of Sukhne, at the distance of five days from Aleppo, and
of twelve hours from Palmyra, in the road which Zenobia in her flight
took to gain the Euphrates. The people of Sukhne are sedentary Arabs,
of a breed half Fellah and half Bedouin. They bring to Aleppo alkali
and ostrich feathers. It was upon one of these visits of the Sheïkh of
Sukhne to Aleppo, that Burckhardt, after some negotiation, resolved to
accept the protection of the sheïkh, who undertook, upon their arrival
at his village, to place him under the protection of a Bedouin of
sufficient influence to procure him a safe passage through the tribes
of the country which he wished to explore. Burckhardt had reason to be
satisfied both with the Sheïkh of Sukhne, and with the Arab whom he
procured as an escort, except that, in the end, the protection of the
latter proved insufficient. The consequence was, that poor Burckhardt
was stripped to the skin, and he returned to Sukhne, his body blistered
with the rays of the sun, and without having accomplished any of the
objects of his journey. It was in this excursion to the desert that
Burckhardt had so hard a struggle with an Arab lady, who took a fancy
to the only garment which the delicacy or compassion of the men had
left him.”

After his return from this unfortunate journey, Burckhardt was delayed
for a considerable time at Aleppo by incessant rains; but at length,
on the 14th of February, he bade this city a final adieu, and hastened
once more to Damascus. He was desirous, before quitting Syria, of
performing another journey in the Haurān. This he completed, and
having transmitted to England an account of his discoveries in this
extraordinary region, he departed on the 18th of June for the Dead Sea.
The reader will not, I imagine, be displeased to find the description
of this journey given in the author’s own words: having reached
Nazareth, “I met here,” says he, “a couple of petty merchants from
Szalt, a castle in the mountains of Balka, which I had not been able
to see during my late tour, and which lies on the road I had pointed
out to myself for passing into the Egyptian deserts. I joined their
caravan; after eight hours’ march, we descended into the valley of the
Jordan, called El Gor, near Bysan; crossed the river, and continued
along its verdant banks for about ten hours, until we reached the
river Zerka, near the place where it empties itself into the Jordan.
Turning then to our left, we ascended the eastern chain, formerly part
of the district of Balka, and arrived at Szalt, two long days’ journey
from Nazareth. The inhabitants of Szalt are entirely independent of
the Turkish government; they cultivate the ground for a considerable
distance round their habitations, and part of them live the whole year
round in tents, to watch their harvests and to pasture their cattle.
Many ruined places and mountains in the district of Balka preserve
the names of the Old Testament, and elucidate the topography of the
province that fell to the share of the tribes of Gad and Reuben. Szalt
is at present the only inhabited place in the Balka, but numerous Arab
tribes pasture there their camels and sheep. I visited from thence
the ruins of Amān, or Philadelphia, five hours and a half distant
from Szalt. They are situated in a valley on both sides of a rivulet,
which empties itself into the Zerka. A large amphitheatre is the most
remarkable of these ruins, which are much decayed, and in every respect
inferior to those of Jerash. At four or five hours south-east of Amān
are the ruins of Om Erresas and El Kotif, which I could not see,
but which, according to report, are more considerable than those of
Philadelphia. The want of communication between Szalt and the southern
countries delayed my departure for upwards of a week; I found at last
a guide, and we reached Kerek in two days and a half, after having
passed the deep beds of the torrents El Wale and El Mojeb, which I
suppose to be the Nahaliel and Arnon. The Mojeb divides the district of
Balka from that of Kerek, as it formerly divided the Moabites from the
Amorites. The ruins of Eleale, Hesebon, Meon, Medaba, Dibon, Arver, all
situated on the north side of the Arnon, still subsist to illustrate
the history of the Beni Israel. To the south of the wild torrent Mojeb
I found the considerable ruins of Rabbab Moab: and, three hours’
distance from them, the town of Kerek, situated at about twelve hours’
distance to the east of the southern extremity of the Dead Sea....

“The treachery of the Sheïkh of Kerek, to whom I had been particularly
recommended by a grandee of Damascus, obliged me to stay at Kerek above
twenty days. After having annoyed me in different ways, he permitted me
to accompany him southward, as he had himself business in the mountains
of Djebal, a district which is divided from that of Kerek by the deep
bed of the torrent El Ahhsa, or El Kahary, eight hours’ distance
from Kerek. We remained for ten days in the villages to the north
and south of El Ansa, which are inhabited by Arabs, who have become
cultivators, and who sell the produce of their fields to the Bedouins.
The sheïkh, having finished his business, left me at Beszeyra, a
village about sixteen hours south of Kerek, to shift for myself, after
having maliciously recommended me to the care of a Bedouin, with whose
character he must have been acquainted, and who nearly stripped me of
the remainder of my money. I encountered here many difficulties, was
obliged to walk from one encampment to another, until I found at last
a Bedouin who engaged to carry me to Egypt. In his company I continued
southward, in the mountains of Shera, which are divided to the north
from Djebal by the broad valley called Ghoseyr, at about five hours’
distance from Beszeyra. The chief place in Djebal is Tafyle, and in
Shera the castle of Shobak. This chain of mountains is a continuation
of the eastern Syrian chain, which begins with the Antilibanus, joins
the Jebel el Sheïkh, forms the valley of Ghor, and borders the Dead
Sea. The valley of Ghor is continued to the south of the Dead Sea; at
about sixteen hours’ distance from the extremity of the Dead Sea its
name is changed into that of Araba, and it runs in almost a straight
line, declining somewhat to the west as far as Akaba, at the extremity
of the eastern branch of the Red Sea. The existence of this valley
appears to have been unknown to ancient as well as modern geographers,
although it is a very remarkable feature in the geography of Syria
and Arabia Petræa, and is still more interesting for its productions.
In this valley the manna is still found; it drops from the sprigs of
several trees, but principally from the Gharrab. It is collected by
the Arabs, who make cakes of it, and who eat it with butter; they call
it Assal Beyrook, or the honey of Beyrook. Indigo, gum-arabic, and the
silk-tree, called Asheyr, whose fruit encloses a white silky substance,
of which the Arabs twist their matches, grow in this valley.”

In this valley, about two long days’ journey north-east of Akaba, is a
small rivulet, near the banks of which Burckhardt discovered the ruins
of a city, which he conjectured to be those of Petra, the capital of
Arabia Petræa. No other European traveller had ever visited the spot,
though few places in Western Asia seem more curious or deserving of
examination. The red rocks composing the flanks of the valley contained
upwards of two hundred and fifty sepulchral chambers, adorned with
Grecian ornaments. Besides these there were numerous mausolea, some in
the Egyptian style, with obelisks, others in the chaste manner of the
Greeks; and among the latter there was one in perfect preservation,
and of vast dimensions, with all its apartments, its vestibule, its
peristyle, &c. cut out in the solid rock. On the summit of the mountain
which forms the western boundary of the valley is the tomb of Aaron,
which the Arabs, who are great Scriptural antiquarians, hold in
extraordinary veneration. Our traveller, however, to his great regret,
was necessitated to abandon to some more fortunate visiter the thorough
examination of this interesting region, at which circumstances allowed
him merely to cast a glance as he was hurrying along with his Bedouin
conductor towards the Red Sea. In proceeding from this place towards
Akaba he encountered a small party of Arabs who were conducting a few
camels for sale to Cairo, and uniting himself to this little caravan,
performed the remainder of the journey in their company. “We crossed
the valley of Araba,” says he, “ascended on the other side of it the
barren mountains of Beyane, and entered the desert called El Tih,
which is the most barren and horrid tract of country I have ever seen;
black flints cover the chalky or sandy ground, which in most places is
without any vegetation. The tree which produces the gum-arabic grows
in some spots; and the tamarisk is met with here and there; but the
scarcity of water forbids much extent of vegetation, and the hungry
camels are obliged to go in the evening for whole hours out of the road
in order to find some withered shrubs upon which to feed. During ten
days’ forced marches we passed only four springs or wells, of which one
only, at about eight hours east of Suez, was of sweet water. The others
were brackish and sulphureous. We passed at a short distance to the
north of Suez, and arrived at Cairo by the pilgrim road.”

On his arrival at Cairo, Burckhardt’s first employment was to draw up a
detailed account of his journey through Arabia Petræa: he then turned
his attention to the means of fulfilling the great design of his
mission; but no opportunity of penetrating into the interior of Africa
occurring, he undertook, in order to fill up the interval thus created,
a journey into Nubia. During his residence at Cairo, and on his journey
up the Nile to Assouan, he beheld the principal ruins of Egypt. His
preparations for the Nubian excursion were soon made. He purchased two
dromedaries, one for himself and the other for his guide, for about
twenty-two pounds; provided himself with letters of recommendation,
and a firman from the pasha; and leaving his servant and baggage at
Assouan, set out with his guide on the 14th of February, 1813, carrying
along with him nothing but a gun, a sabre, a pistol, a provision-bag,
and a woollen mantle, which served by day for a carpet, and for a
covering during the night.

Their road lay along the eastern bank of the Nile; they passed Philæ
(where, a few days before, a pregnant woman had been killed in a fray,
as the softer sex always mix in the battles in which their husbands are
engaged, which had created a deadly feud between the hostile villages);
and then pushed on with rapidity towards Derr. The Mameluke chiefs,
with their desperate followers, were at this period roaming about
Nubia, amusing their imaginations with vain projects for the recovery
of Egypt.--Every person coming from the north was of course an object
of curiosity, if not of suspicion, to these baffled soldiers, as it
was possible he might be the bearer of tidings of events upon the
results of which their fate depended. Such was the state of things when
Burckhardt entered Nubia. Everywhere reports calculated to create alarm
were circulated. To-day it was said that the Mamelukes had descended,
like famished tigers, from the mountains, and were about to deliver up
the whole country to plunder and devastation; to-morrow they appeared
to have passed away, like a thunder-cloud, towards Dongola and the
desert, leaving behind them that sort of uneasy satisfaction with which
we behold the quelling of unruly elements.

Burckhardt arrived at Derr on the 1st of March, and, to his surprise,
found two Mameluke beys at the palace of the governor. He had
reckoned upon their utter disappearance, and had intended, under
these circumstances, to represent himself as the secret agent of
the Pasha of Egypt; but learning, upon inquiry, that the pasha and
his enemies were regarded with nearly equal dread by the Nubian
princes, he changed his resolution, and professed to be guided in his
motions by no other motive than pleasure. Ignorant persons find it
hard to conceive that men can expose themselves to difficulties and
dangers from an enthusiasm for knowledge, or can find pleasure in
encountering hardships and fatigue; however, a concurrence of fortunate
circumstances extorted from the governor a permission to proceed, and
accordingly, having provided himself with provisions for the road, our
traveller departed for Sukkot.

His guide on the present occasion was an old Arab of the Ababde tribe.
The branch of the Ababde to which this man, whose name was Mohammed,
belonged, feed their flocks on the uninhabited banks of the river, and
on its numerous islands, as far south as Dongola. Though poor, they
refuse to bestow their daughters, who are famed for their beauty, in
marriage on the rich Nubians, and have thus preserved the purity of
their race. They are, moreover, an honest and hospitable race, and
during his journeys in Nubia, Burckhardt was constantly received and
treated with kindness by these simple people.

In pursuing his course up the Nile, our traveller passed a day at
Ibrim, a town inhabited by Turks, where, though quarrels and bloodshed
were frequent, property was more secure than in any other town he
had visited in the eastern world; the corn was left all night in the
field, and the cattle on the banks of the river, unwatched, and even
the greater part of the household furniture remained all night under
the palm-trees around their dwellings. Indeed, theft was here quite
unknown. Proceeding a short distance to the south of this town, he
dismounted from his dromedary, and directing his guide to continue his
road to the next village, struck off into a narrow footpath along the
lofty, precipitous shores of the river. Pursuing this mountain-track
he arrived at an ancient temple hewn out of the rock, in as perfect a
state of preservation as when first finished. Sepulchral chambers and
mystic sculptures, the usual accompaniments of Egyptian temples, were
found here.

The reception which our traveller and his guide met with at the Nubian
villages was generally hospitable; as soon as they alighted a mat was
spread for them upon the ground, just before the door of the house,
which none but intimate friends are permitted to enter; dhourra bread,
milk, and sometimes dates were placed before the strangers, and their
host, if earnestly pressed, sat down with them. Straw, when plentiful,
was likewise given to their camels; and when the host desired to be
particularly hospitable, a breakfast of hot milk and bread was served
up before their departure in the morning.

At length, on the 6th of March, they arrived on a sandy plain,
sprinkled with rocky points, which thrust up their heads through the
sand that concealed their bases. Here they encamped in the evening near
one of the islands which are formed by the river. The noise of the
cataract was heard in the night, at about half an hour’s distance. The
place is very romantic: when the inundation subsides, many small lakes
are left among the rocks; and the banks of these, overgrown with large
tamarisks, have a picturesque appearance amid the black and green
rocks; the lakes and pools thus formed cover a space of upwards of two
miles in breadth.

The Arabs who serve as guides through these wild districts “have
devised,” says Burckhardt, “a singular mode of extorting small presents
from the traveller: they alight at certain spots, and beg a present;
if it is refused, they collect a heap of sand, and mould it into the
form of a diminutive tomb, and then placing a stone at each of its
extremities, they apprize the traveller that his tomb is made; meaning
that henceforward there will be no security for him in this rocky
wilderness. Most persons pay a trifling contribution rather than have
their graves made before their eyes; there were, however, several tombs
of this description dispersed over the plain. Being satisfied with my
guide, I gave him one piastre, with which he was content.”

On his arriving in the territory of Sukkot, he presented the letter to
the governor of which he was the bearer; and received from this old
savage a scrap of paper, containing an introduction to his son, who was
the chief of the southern part of the district. Here the guide, who
had been granted him at Derr, reached the extremity of his commission,
and announced his intention of returning from thence; four piastres,
however, overcame his determination, and he agreed to proceed to
Mahass: “If Hassan Kashif,” said he, “upbraids me, I shall tell him
that you rode on, notwithstanding my exhortations, and that I did not
think it honourable to leave you alone.” An admirable custom prevails
in this and every other part of Nubia: water-jars are placed under a
low roof at short distances by the roadside, where the traveller may
always quench his thirst; and every village pays a small monthly sum to
some person to fill those jars morning and evening. The same thing is
practised upon a much larger scale in Upper Egypt.

Upon Burckhardt’s reaching the Mahass territory, he suddenly found
himself in the midst of the worst description of savages. The governor,
a ferocious black, received him in a hut, furiously intoxicated, and
surrounded by numerous followers in the same condition. In the midst
of their drunken mirth they called for their muskets, and amused
themselves with firing in the hut. Burckhardt every moment expected
that a random ball would put an end to his travels; but the palm wine
at length extended the whole of this atrocious rabble upon the ground,
and next morning, when sleep had somewhat restored the tone of the
governor’s senses, he found time to question our traveller respecting
the motives of his visit. The story which he related to them was not
believed: “You are an agent of Mohammed,” said they; “but at Mahass we
spit at Mohammed Ali’s beard, and cut off the heads of those who are
enemies to the Mamelukes.” These suspicions, although they produced no
immediate injury to his personal safety, entirely put a stop to his
progress farther south; for he was now within two days and a half of
the limits of Dongola, where the Mamelukes were lords paramount, and to
enter their territories with the character of an agent of Mohammed Ali
would be to court certain death. He therefore turned his face towards
the north, and travelled with all possible celerity along the eastern
bank of the Nile, until he arrived at Kolbe, where he swam across the
river, holding by his camel’s tail with one hand, and urging on the
beast with the other.

Burckhardt now descended the Nile to Ipsambol, the vast rocky temple
of which he supposed to be of extremely ancient date. He here found
four colossal statues of enormous magnitude, which had been hewn
out of the rock, on the face of an elevated cliff, with their backs
adhering to the precipice. The fine sand of the desert had been blown
up into mounds against the rock, and covered two of these statues
almost entirely; the rest rose somewhat above the surface. The faces
of these colossal statues are turned towards the north. “The head,
which is above the surface,” says he, “has a most expressive youthful
countenance, approaching nearer to the Grecian model of beauty than
that of any ancient Egyptian figure I have seen; indeed, were it not
for a thin, oblong beard, it might well pass for a head of Pallas.”

From Ipsambol he continued his journey to Mosmos and Derr, where he
parted with his guide, who, on taking his leave, begged as a present
the mellaye, or cloak, which our traveller usually wore. To this
request Burckhardt replied, “May God smooth your path!”--a phrase
usually addressed to beggars, when they are civilly told to be gone.
“No,” said the Arab, who had often employed this phrase when he desired
to elude the questions of the traveller, “for once I will beg you to
smooth it.” “So,” says Burckhardt, “I gave him the mellaye, and a small
present in money; and am confident that Abou Saad will never forget me.”

On his return to Assouan, Burckhardt’s first care was to repair, by
repose, the inroads which fatigue had made upon his constitution. He
then repaired to Esne, where he established his head-quarters. It being
his policy to excite but little attention, he very seldom went into
company, dressed meanly, and reduced his expenditure to the lowest
possible sum. The cheapness of provisions was incredible. His whole
expenditure for himself, his servant, his dromedary, and his ass not
exceeding one shilling and sixpence per day, while his horse cost him
no more than sixteen pence per month.

Here he remained until the 2d of March, 1814, when he joined himself,
as a petty trader, to another caravan, which was proceeding from Deraou
to Berber. The caravan, consisting of about fifty merchants, with their
slaves and beasts, moved under the protection of about thirty Ababde
Arabs, who, though no heroes or philosophers, were not remarkably
deficient either in courage or humanity. Burckhardt was a man more apt
to blame than praise. If an individual performed a generous action,
he generally evinced a disposition to attribute it to some selfish or
mean motive, probably from the opinion that it might be considered
vulgar and unphilosophical to betray a belief in disinterested virtue.
It is to be regretted, however, that he should have indulged in this
unamiable habit of thinking, as nothing more surely tends to awaken the
resentment or suspicion of the reader, who will be led to imagine that
he who constantly misrepresents the motives of men may sometimes, from
unknown causes, be tempted to misrepresent their manners and actions
also. If we do not entertain this opinion of Burckhardt, it is that we
exercise towards him a higher degree of charity than he was accustomed
to exercise towards others.

The march of a caravan through the desert is a magnificent spectacle.
There is a kind of sublime daring in thus venturing upon what seem
to be the secret places of nature; the places whence the simoom, the
hurricane, and the locust-cloud issue forth upon their fatal errands,
and where many tremendous phenomena, peculiar to those dreary regions,
present themselves, at intervals, to the astonished but delighted eye
of the traveller.

Burckhardt, on this occasion, possessed no command over his own
movements. He travelled, halted, ate, slept, in obedience to the
fantasy of the caravan-leaders; who were ignorant, however, that the
humble trader, whom they regarded, at most, with compassion, was at
that moment forming reflections, and bringing observations to maturity,
which were, perhaps for ages, to affect the opinion entertained by
the civilized world of their character and pursuits. Meanwhile the
merchants, who were chiefly engaged in the debasing traffic of slaves,
and, as may be supposed, cherished no respect for any thing but
riches, and the power which commands riches, looked upon their humble
companion with undisguised contempt; for imbecility and ignorance are
of themselves incapable of appreciating intellectual superiority, and
reverence it only when it is exerted for their defence or destruction.
The scorn which our traveller entertained for those miscreants was,
therefore, just. They constantly treated him with contumely, though he
professed a belief in the same law and the same prophets; plundered
his water-skins, or obstructed his filling them at the wells, thus
exposing him to the danger of perishing of thirst; circulated, in the
towns where they stopped, the report that he was a spy; and, in short,
put in practice every art which their dastardly malice and shallow
brains could conceive, in order to disgust him with the trade, and thus
free themselves from a new competitor. But they were slave-dealers: an
epithet which comprises every thing most loathsome and abominable; and
their manners entirely corresponded with their occupation, being marked
by a degree of depravity which language blushes to describe.

At the end of a week’s journey, the caravan arrived at the celebrated
wells of El Haimar, in the vicinity of which they found the tomb of a
Mameluke chief, who died on this spot. “His companions, having enclosed
the naked corpse within low walls of loose stones, had covered it over
with a large block. The dryness of the air had preserved the corpse
in the most perfect state. Looking at it through the interstices of
the stones which enveloped it, it appeared to me a more perfect mummy
than any I had seen in Egypt. The mouth was wide open, and our guide
related that the man had died for want of water, although so near the
wells.” Next day they passed Wady Ollaky, a fine valley, extending
east and west from the Nile to the Red Sea. Here were numerous trees
and excellent pasture; advantages which caused it to be regarded with
peculiar veneration by the Bedouins; and every man, as he traversed it
on his ass or camel, took a handful of dhourra, and threw it on the
ground, as a kind of pious offering to the good genius of the Wady.

On the following day, in crossing Wady El Towashy, or the Valley of
the Eunuch, Burckhardt saw the tomb of that Mahomet Towash whose
body was found on the sands by Bruce, three days after he had been
murdered by his guides. The principal facts in Bruce’s narrative of
this transaction Burckhardt found to be true, but he imagined that
the details of the story must have been “made up.” Nothing can be
conceived more insolent or absurd than this skepticism. Why should it
be supposed that we were to accept the testimony of this young man,
coming from a country where assuredly truth is not more respected than
it is in Britain, and who, compared with Bruce, was an unknown and an
inferior person, before that of an English gentleman, whose education
was conducted with the utmost care, and who, except as a traveller,
was never regarded, I believe, other than as a person of probity and
honour? The principle which teaches the despots of the East to respect
each other’s harems, when, by the chances of war, they fall into their
hands, as Darius’s fell into those of Alexander, should, we think,
be acted upon by travellers, who, unless upon the amplest and most
satisfactory information, should beware of tampering with the integrity
of each other’s characters. The contrary proceeding must, in the end,
be productive of a degree of skepticism which would extinguish all
enthusiasm and enterprise in travellers, who, at this rate, could
expect no better fate than to be denounced as liars by every timid
knave, who, skulking by his own fireside, might be impelled by envy
to rail at those who boldly measure sea and land, and undergo the
extremity of hardships to obtain an honourable reputation.

Burckhardt, however, had acquired the habit of suspecting every thing,
not because he himself could have been guilty of an untruth, for he
was a high-spirited and honourable man, but because he generalized too
hastily. I readily pardon his error, therefore, and trust that his
involuntary injustice may be injurious neither to Bruce’s character,
nor to his own. His picture of what he endured in the course of this
journey is sufficient to account for any little asperity of manner
observable in his travels. “For myself,” says he, in describing what
daily occurred at their halting-places, “I was often driven from the
coolest and most comfortable birth into the burning sun, and generally
passed the midday hours in great distress; for besides the exposure to
heat, I had to cook my dinner, a service which I could never prevail
upon any of my companions, even the poorest servants, to perform for
me, though I offered to let them share my homely fare. In the evening
the same labour occurred again, when fatigued by the day’s journey,
during which I always walked for four or five hours, in order to spare
my ass, and when I was in the utmost need of repose. Hunger, however,
always prevailed over fatigue, and I was obliged to fetch and cut wood,
to light a fire, to cook, to feed the ass, and finally to make coffee,
a cup of which, presented to my Daraou companions, who were extremely
eager to obtain it, was the only means I possessed of keeping them in
tolerable good-humour. A good night’s rest, however, always repaired
my strength, and I was never in better health and spirits than during
this journey, although its fatigues were certainly very great, and much
beyond my expectation. The common dish of all the travellers at noon
was fetyre, which is flour mixed up with water into a liquid paste, and
then baked upon the sadj, or iron plate; butter is then poured over
it, or honey, or sometimes a sauce is made of butter and dried bamyé.
In the evening some lentils are boiled, or some bread is baked with
salt, either upon the sadj or in ashes, and a sauce of bamyé, or onion,
poured over lentils, or upon the bread, after it has been crumbled
into small pieces. Early in the morning every one eats a piece of dry
biscuit, with some raw onions or dates.”

On the 14th of March, on arriving at the Wady el Nabeh, they found the
celebrated wells of that valley insufficient to supply the caravan
until they should reach the rocks of Shigre, and as no water was
anywhere to be found in the intervening space they were reduced to the
greatest perplexity. “Upon such occasions as these,” says Burckhardt,
“every man gives his opinion: and mine was, that we should kill our
thirty-five asses, which required a daily supply of at least fifteen
water-skins, that we should load the camels to the utmost of their
strength with water, and strike out a straight way through the desert
towards Berber, without touching at Shigre; in this manner we might
perform the journey in five forced marches.” This plan the Arabs
refused to follow. They repaired their water-skins and their sandals,
refreshed themselves with bathing in the cool wells, and then set out.
But “it was not without great apprehension,” says our traveller, “that
I departed from this place. Our camels and asses carried water for
three or four days only, and I saw no possibility of escaping from the
dreadful effects of a want of water. In order to keep my ass in good
spirits, I took off the two small water-skins with which I had hitherto
loaded him, and paid one of the Ababdes four dollars to carry four
small water-skins as far as Berber; for I thought that if the ass could
carry me, I might bear thirst for two days at least, but that if he
should break down, I should certainly not be able to walk one whole day
without water in this hot season of the year.”

Notwithstanding all these difficulties and sufferings, our traveller
considered the Nubian desert, at least as far south as Shigre, far
less terrible than that of Syria or Tyh. Trees and water are much
more frequent, and though it be intersected in various directions by
shaggy barren rocks, the more desolate and awful appearance which it
acquires from this circumstance is, in a great measure, compensated for
by its consequent grandeur and variety. “Here,” says the traveller,
“during the whole day’s march, we were surrounded on all sides by lakes
of mirage, called by the Arabs Serab. Its colour was of the purest
azure, and so clear that the shadows of the mountains that bordered
the horizon were reflected on it with the greatest precision, and the
delusion of its being a sheet of water was thus rendered still more
perfect.” This mockwater, however, only served to heighten the terrors
which the scarcity of real water excited. Every man now began to attach
the greatest importance to the small stock he possessed. Burckhardt,
who possessed but two draughts of water in the world, drank the moiety
of it at once, reserving the remainder for the next day; but, observing
the general scarcity, shared the dejection of his companions. At
length, their condition having become nearly desperate, they adopted
the course recommended by the Ababde chief, and despatched ten or
twelve of their companions, mounted on as many camels, to the nearest
part of the Nile, which was not more than five or six hours distant;
but its banks being inhabited in this part by fierce hostile tribes,
nothing but the fear of instant death could have forced them upon this
step. They timed their march in such a manner that they would reach the
banks of the river by night; when they were directed to select some
uninhabited spot, and having there loaded their camels, to return with
all speed. “We passed the evening,” says Burckhardt, “in the greatest
anxiety, for if the camels should not return, we had little hopes
of escape either from thirst or from the sword of our enemies, who,
if they had once got sight of our camels, would have followed their
footsteps through the desert, and would certainly have discovered us.
Many of my companions came in the course of the evening to beg some
water of me, but I had well hidden my treasure, and answered them by
showing my empty skins. We remained the greater part of the night in
silent and sullen expectation of the result of our desperate mission.
At length, about three o’clock in the morning, we heard the distant
hallooings of our companions; and soon after refreshed ourselves with
copious draughts of the delicious water of the Nile.”

This was the last of their sufferings on this route; on the 23d of
March they entered on a plain with a slight slope towards the river,
which was felt at more than two hours’ distance by the greater moisture
of the air. The Arabs exclaimed, “God be praised, we again smell
the Nile!” and about ten o’clock at night, the caravan entered the
village of Ankhecreh, the principal place in the district of Berber.
Burckhardt’s residence at this place was nothing but one continued
series of annoyance. The principal delight of the whole population,
among whom drunkenness and debauchery were scarcely accounted vices,
seemed to consist in deluding and plundering travellers, who on all the
envenomed soil of Africa could scarcely be exposed to more irritating
insults or extortion than on this spot.

The caravan, now reduced to about two-thirds of its original number,
several of the merchants having returned to Egypt, while others
remained at Berber to dispose of their goods, again put itself in
motion on the 7th of April. Our traveller, who had hitherto attached
himself to the merchant portion of the party, several of whom, previous
to their leaving Egypt, had received benefits at his hands, was here
driven by abuse and contumely to take refuge among the Ababde, who not
only willingly received him as their companion, but exercised their
influence, on more than one occasion, to protect him from violence.
Pursuing a southerly direction for three days, they arrived at the town
of Damer, which, under the government of a number of religious men,
had attained a very high pitch of prosperity. Their sanctity, indeed,
was considerably aided by their skill in magic, which, as Burckhardt
was credibly informed, was so great that, on one occasion, the Faky el
Kebir, or Great Fakir, caused a lamb to bleat in the stomach of the
thief who had stolen, and afterward eaten it. There was no daily market
at Damer, nor was there any thing whatever sold publicly, except on
the weekly market-day. However, as our traveller needed a few measures
of dhourra for his ass, and found it impracticable to purchase less
than a dollar’s worth, which would have been more than he could carry,
he was under the necessity of imitating his companions, and went from
house to house with some strings of beads in his hands, offering them
for sale at about four handfuls of dhourra for each bead. “I gained at
this rate,” says he, “about sixty per cent. above the prime cost, and
had at the same time an opportunity of entering many private houses. I
repeated these walks every day during our stay. One afternoon, while
crying my beads for sale, I was accosted by a faky, who asked me if I
could read. On my answering in the affirmative, he desired me to follow
him to a place where, he said, I might expect to get a good dinner.
He then led me to a house where I found a great number of people,
collected to celebrate the memory of some relative lately deceased.
Several fakies were reading the Koran in a low tone of voice. A great
faky afterward came in, whose arrival was the signal for reciting the
Koran in loud songs, in the manner customary in the East, in which I
joined them. This was continued for about half an hour, until dinner
was brought in, which was very plentiful, as a cow had been killed
upon the occasion. After a hearty meal, we recommenced our reading.
One of the sheïkhs produced a basketful of white pebbles, over which
several prayers were read. These pebbles were destined to be strewed
over the tomb of the deceased in the manner which I had often observed
upon tombs freshly made. Upon my inquiries respecting this custom,
which I confessed to have never before seen practised in any Mohammedan
country, the faky answered that it was a mere meritorious action: that
there was no absolute necessity for it; but that it was thought that
the soul of the deceased, when hereafter visiting the tomb, might be
glad to find these pebbles, in order to use them as beads in addressing
its prayers to the Creator. When the reading was over, the women began
to sing and howl. I then left the room, and on taking my departure my
kind host put some bones of roasted meat in my hand to serve for my
supper.”

In proceeding from this place to Shendy the caravan was accompanied by
several fakies, whose presence was found to be a sufficient protection
against the Nubian Bedouins. They reached Shendy on the 17th of April,
and this being, next to Sennaar and Kobbe, the largest town in eastern
Soudan, they remained here a whole month, during which time Burckhardt
enjoyed an ample opportunity of collecting materials for an account
of this and the neighbouring countries. Crocodiles are numerous in
this part of the Nile. They are much dreaded by the inhabitants, who,
when repairing to its banks for water or to wash their linen, are in
constant fear of these creatures. Burckhardt ate of the crocodile’s
flesh, which he found of a dirty white colour, not unlike young veal,
with a slight fishy smell. To bring its flesh into fashion as an
article of food would be the most certain way of rendering it rare.

At this place Burckhardt abandoned all idea of proceeding farther
south, and, in order to procure himself some little civility from his
former companions, circulated the report that he intended to return
directly to Egypt, where, by describing to the pasha their conduct
towards him during the journey, he might do them considerable injury.
This stratagem succeeded. Their civility and affected friendship now
surpassed their former insolence. In the mean while, understanding that
a caravan was about to set out for Suakin on the Red Sea, our traveller
prevailed on the Ababde chief to introduce and recommend him as his
own friend to its leader. Here he disposed of his merchandise, and
purchased a slave-boy to attend upon him on the road; and having laid
in the necessary quantity of provisions, joined the Suakin caravan, and
departed from Shendy on the 17th of May. “After all my accounts were
settled,” says he, “I had four dollars left; but the smallness of the
sum occasioned me no uneasiness, for I calculated on selling my camel
on the coast for as much as would defray the expenses of my voyage to
Jidda, and I had a letter of credit on that place for a considerable
sum, which I had procured at Cairo.”

The road now traversed by the caravan crossed the Atbara, the Astaboras
of the ancients, on the banks of which they found numerous groves of
trees, and the most luxuriant vegetation. At the sight of this, the
imagination even of the slave-dealers was touched with enthusiasm;
and in alluding to the dreary track over which they had travelled,
one of them exclaimed, “After death comes paradise!” “There was a
greater variety of natural vegetation here than I had seen anywhere
on the banks of the Nile in Egypt. I observed different species of
the mimosa, doom-trees of the largest size, whose luxuriant clusters
of fruit excited the wishes of the slaves, the nebek-tree, with its
fruit ripe; the allobé, of the size of the nebek, besides a great
number of others unknown to me; to these may be added an abundance of
wild herbage, growing on a rich fat soil, similar to that of Egypt.
The trees were inhabited by great numbers of the feathered tribe,
whose song travellers in Egypt very rarely hear. I saw no birds with
rich plumage, but observed small ones of several different kinds. Some
sweet notes struck my ears, which I had never before heard, and the
amorous cooings of the turtle-dove were unceasing. We hastened to the
river, and eagerly descended its low banks to allay our thirst. Several
camels, at the sight of the water, broke the halters by which they were
led, and in rushing or stumbling down the banks threw off their loads,
and occasioned great clamour and disorder.”

In the vicinity of Goz Rajeb, Burckhardt saw on the summit of a hill
the ruins of a huge fabric of ancient times, but was deterred from
visiting it by the assertion of his companions that it was the haunt of
banditti. On the 5th of June, while the caravan halted at an encampment
of Hadendoa Bedouins, Burckhardt beheld the effects of a desert storm:
“Towards evening we were visited by another hurricane, the most
tremendous I ever remember to have witnessed. A dark blue cloud first
appeared, extending to about 25° above the horizon; as it approached
nearer, and increased in height, it assumed an ash-gray colour, with
a tinge of yellow, striking every person in the caravan who had not
been accustomed to such phenomena with amazement at its magnificent
and terrific appearance; as the cloud approached still nearer, the
yellow tinge became more general, while the horizon presented the
brightest azure. At last, it burst upon us in its rapid course, and
involved us in darkness and confusion; nothing could be distinguished
at the distance of five or six feet; our eyes were filled with dust;
our temporary sheds were blown down at the first gust, and many of
the more firmly fixed tents of the Hadendoa followed; the largest
withstood for a time the effects of the blast, but were at last obliged
to yield, and the whole camp was levelled with the ground. In the mean
time the terrified camels arose, broke the cords by which they were
fastened, and endeavoured to escape from the destruction which appeared
to threaten them; thus adding not a little to our embarrassment. After
blowing about half an hour with incessant violence, the wind suddenly
abated, and when the atmosphere became clear, the tremendous cloud was
seen continuing its havoc to the north-west.”

Next day they reached Taka, a district famous for its fertility, where
hares, gazelles, wolves, giraffes, and limes as large, it was said, as
cows, were found in the woods. Hence, after a stay of several days,
they departed for Suakin, and after a not unpleasant journey through a
wild, picturesque country, approached the termination of their toils.
On the morning of the last day they started before sunrise. “The
eastern hills,” says Burckhardt, “terminate in this latitude; and the
sun was just rising beyond them, when we descried its reflection at
an immense distance in the sea, affording a pleasing sight to every
individual in the caravan, but most of all to me.” At length, on the
26th of June, they reached Suakin, and pitched their little sheds at
about twenty minutes’ walk from the town. Next day they were visited
by the emir, who, understanding that our traveller’s camel was an
excellent animal, determined on taking it as a part of the caravan
dues; upon which Burckhardt insisted upon referring their difference
to the Turkish custom-house officer. His wishes were quickly complied
with, but the aga, instead of interfering to protect the stranger,
immediately conceived the idea of uniting with the emir in seizing
upon the whole of his property; and therefore, pretending to regard
him as a Mameluke spy, began at once to overwhelm him with abuse. To
all this Burckhardt returned no reply, but requested the aga to inform
him whether the emir was entitled to his camel. “Not only thy camel,”
replied the Turk, “but thy whole baggage must be taken and searched.
We shall render a good account of them to the pasha, depend upon it.
You shall not impose upon us, you rascal; and you may be thankful if
we do not cut off your head!” Our traveller protested that he was
nothing but an unfortunate merchant, and endeavoured, by a submissive
deportment, to pacify his anger; but “he began cursing and swearing in
Turkish,” says Burckhardt, “and then calling an old cripple, to whom he
had given the title of waly, or police-officer, he ordered him to tie
my hands, to put me in prison, and to bring my slave and baggage into
his presence. I now thought it high time to produce my firmans, which
I drew from a secret pocket in my thaboot; one of them was written in
Turkish, upon a piece of paper two feet and a half in length, and one
foot in breadth, and was sealed with the great seal of Mohammed Aly;
the other, a smaller one, was written in Arabic, and bore the seal of
Ibrahim Pasha, his son, in which Ibrahim termed me ‘Our man, Ibrahim,
the Syrian.’ When Yemak saw the firmans unfolded, he became completely
stupified, and the persons present looked at me with amazement. The
aga could read the Arabic only; but he kissed them both, put them to
his forehead, and then protested to me, in the most submissive terms,
that it was the good of the public service alone that had led him to
treat me as he had done, and for which he begged me a thousand pardons.
Nothing more was said about the emir’s right to my camel, and he
declared that I should pay no duty for my slave, though he was entitled
to it.”

Burckhardt now disposed of his camel, and took his passage to Jidda
in one of the country vessels. After tossing about the Red Sea for
nearly a fortnight, visiting Macouar, and several points of the
African coast, he arrived at Jidda on the 18th of July, 1814. His
first care now was to present his letter of credit, which being of
an old date, however, he was refused payment, though the merchant
offered him a lodging at his house. This he accepted, but removed, two
days afterward, to a public khan, where he was attacked by a fever,
in which he lay delirious for several days. His recovery from this
violent disorder, which he attributed to his indulging in the fine
fruits of the Jidda market, seems to have been chiefly owing to the
kindness of a Greek captain, who, having been his fellow-passenger from
Suakin, attended him during one of his lucid intervals, and, at his own
request, procured a barber, who bled him copiously.

Here our traveller was reduced to the hard necessity of parting
with his slave, for whom he obtained forty-eight dollars, of which
thirty-two were profit. With this he dressed himself in the guise of a
reduced Egyptian gentleman, and determined to remain in the Hejaz until
the time of the pilgrimage in the following November. However, as his
funds were far too low to enable him to live independently until that
period, he began to turn his thoughts towards manual labour; but first
determined upon trying the effect of a direct application to Mohammed
Aly, then at Tayef. He accordingly wrote to his highness’s Armenian
physician, who was likewise at Tayef with his master, requesting him to
learn from the pasha whether he would accept a bill upon Burckhardt’s
correspondent at Cairo, and order his treasurer at Jidda to pay the
amount of it. Before the result of this application could be known,
he received an invitation to the house of Tousoun Pasha’s physician,
who, upon being made acquainted with the state of his finances, kindly
offered him the sum of three thousand piasters (about 100_l._) for a
bill upon Cairo payable at sight. Mohammed Aly, to whom his condition
was accidentally made known, immediately despatched a messenger with
two dromedaries, an order for five hundred piasters, and a request that
he would repair immediately with the same messenger to Tayef. With this
invitation, which was, in fact, equivalent to a command, he thought
it necessary to comply, and accordingly set off on the same afternoon
(24th of August) for the interior of the Hejaz.

They were accompanied during the first portion of the way by about
twenty camel-drivers of the tribe of Harb, who were carrying money to
Mecca for the pasha’s treasury. The road at first lay over a barren
sandy plain, ascending slightly as it receded from the sea; it then
entered the narrow gorges of a mountainous country, where they overtook
a caravan of pilgrims, who were accompanying a quantity of goods and
provisions destined for the army. The pasha, who, no doubt, suspected
the sincerity of our traveller’s creed, had given orders to the guide
to conduct him by a by-road to Tayef, which lay to the north of Mecca:
“Just before we left Hadda,” says Burckhardt, “my guide, who knew
nothing further respecting me than that I had business with the pasha
at Tayef, that I performed all the outward observances of a Moslem
pilgrim, and that I had been liberal to him before our departure, asked
me the reason of his having been ordered to take me by the northern
road. I replied that it was probably thought shorter than the other.
‘That is a mistake,’ he replied; ‘the Mecca road is quite as short,
and much safer; and if you have no objection we will proceed by it.’
This was just what I wished, though I had taken care not to betray any
anxiety on the subject; and we accordingly followed the great road, in
company with the other travellers.”

On this occasion, however, Burckhardt saw but little of the sacred
city, as the guide, who had no curiosity to gratify, hurried through
the streets without allowing him time for observation. Continuing
their journey, therefore, towards the east, they arrived, on the 27th
of August, at Ras el Kora, where they passed the night. “This,” says
our traveller, “is the most beautiful spot in the Hejaz, and more
picturesque and delightful than any spot I had seen since my departure
from Lebanon, in Syria. The top of Jebel Kora is flat, but large masses
of granite lie scattered over it, the surface of which, like that of
the granite rocks near the sacred cataract of the Nile, is blackened by
the sun. Several small rivulets descend from this peak, and irrigate
the plain, which is covered with verdant fields, and large shady trees,
on the side of the granite rocks. To those who have only known the
dreary and scorching sands of the lower country of the Hejaz, this
scene is as surprising as the keen air which blows here is refreshing.
Many of the fruit-trees of Europe are found here; figs, apricots,
peaches, apples, the Egyptian sycamore, almonds, pomegranates; but
particularly vines, the produce of which is of the best quality.”
“After having passed through this delightful district for about half an
hour, just as the sun was rising, when every leaf and blade of grass
was covered with a balmy dew, and every tree and shrub diffused a
fragrance as delicious to the smell as was the landscape to the eye, I
halted near the largest of the rivulets, which, although not more than
two paces across, nourishes upon its banks a green alpine turf, such as
the mighty Nile, with all its luxuriance, can never produce in Egypt.”

Upon his reaching Tayef, he caused his arrival to be made known to
the pasha, who, upon learning his desire to visit the Holy Cities,
expressed a desire to see him late in the evening at his public
residence, and observed jocosely to the Kadhy of Mecca, who happened to
be present, “It is not the beard alone which proves a man to be a true
Moslem; but you are a better judge in such matters than I am.” Our
traveller, on learning these particulars, affected to be much hurt by
the pasha’s suspicions, and let the physician, who was the bearer of
the message, know that he should not go to the pasha’s public audience
unless he was received as a Turk. When the physician delivered this
message, Mohammed Aly smiled, and said that he was welcome, whether
Turk or not. The audience passed off well. But Burckhardt clearly
discovered that he was regarded as a spy of the English government;
that his conduct was narrowly watched; and that, in being made the
guest of the physician, he was a kind of prisoner, all whose words and
actions were reported to the pasha. This was by no means an agreeable
position. He therefore determined to be delivered from it; and, in
order to effect his purpose, adopted the most prudent plan that could
have been imagined: he rendered himself so troublesome and expensive to
his host, that the latter, in order to be freed from him, represented
him in the most favourable light to his master, and contrived to obtain
him permission to spend the last days of the Ramadhan at Mecca.

Accordingly, on the 7th of September, Burckhardt departed in company
with the kadhy for the Holy City. On passing Wady Mohram, he assumed
the _ihram_, the dress worn by all pilgrims during the Hadj, and
consisting of two pieces of linen, woollen, or cotton cloth, one of
which is wrapped round the loins, while the other is thrown over the
neck and shoulders, so as to leave part of the right arm bare. In
this dress he arrived at Mecca, on the 9th of September; and, as the
law enjoins, proceeded immediately to visit the temple, before he had
attended to any worldly concern whatever. The ceremonies practised
on this occasion are long and tedious, the Mohammedans apparently
believing, like our monkish madmen in Europe, that whatever is painful
or disgusting to man must therefore be pleasing to God. Having
completed these absurdities, he hired a ready-furnished lodging in
the house of a metowaf, or guide to the holy places; who, while the
poor hajjî was occupied with his devotions, employed his spare moments
industriously in stealing whatever he could from his travelling-sack.

Being desirous of completing his travelling equipments before the
commencement of the Hadj, Burckhardt now proceeded to Jidda, where
such things are more easily procured than at Mecca, and again returned
about the middle of October, with a slave-boy whom he purchased. He
hired apartments in an unfrequented part of the city, where he enjoyed
the advantage of several large trees growing before his windows, “the
verdure of which,” says he, “among the barren and sunburnt rocks of
Mecca, was to me more exhilarating than the finest landscape could
have been under different circumstances.” The principal curiosity of
Mecca is the Beitullah, or House of God, a species of quadrangle, in
the centre of which stands the Kaaba, “an oblong massive structure,
eighteen paces in length, fourteen in breadth, and from thirty-five
to forty feet in height. It is constructed of the gray Mecca stone,
in large blocks of different sizes, joined together in a very rough
manner, and with bad cement.” “At the north-east corner of the Kaaba,
near the door, is the famous ‘Black Stone;’ it forms a part of the
sharp angle of the building at four or five feet above the ground.
It is an irregular oval of about seven inches in diameter, with an
undulating surface, composed of about a dozen smaller stones of
different sizes and shapes, well joined together with a small quantity
of cement, and perfectly smoothed. It looks as if the whole had been
broken into many pieces by a violent blow, and then united again. It
is very difficult to determine accurately the quality of this stone,
which has been worn to its present surface by the millions of touches
and kisses it has received. It appeared to me like a laver, containing
several small extraneous particles, of a whitish and of a yellowish
substance. Its colour is now a deep reddish brown, approaching to
black: it is surrounded on all sides by a border, composed of a
substance which I took to be a close cement of pitch and gravel, of a
similar, but not quite the same, brownish colour. This border serves to
support its detached pieces; it is two or three inches in breadth, and
rises a little above the surface of the stone. Both the border and the
stone itself are encircled by a silver band, broader below than above,
and on the two sides, with a considerable swelling below, as if a part
of the stone were hidden under it. The lower part of the border is
studded with silver nails.”

I have purposely made use of Burckhardt’s own words in describing
the Black Stone, and several other objects of curiosity, that the
reader may see the exact impressions which they made on the mind
of the traveller; though, as his style is very diffuse, it would
frequently not have been difficult to compress his meaning into a much
smaller compass. I cannot, however, pursue the same course with his
description of the Hadj; which, notwithstanding its interest, is far
too voluminous for the space which I can bestow upon it. On the 21st
of November, 1814, the approach of the Syrian caravan was announced by
a messenger, whose horse dropped down dead the moment he dismounted.
Several other persons followed in about two hours after; and during
the night, the main body, with the Pasha of Damascus at its head, came
up, and encamped in the plain of Sheïkh Mahmoud. Next morning the
Egyptian caravan likewise arrived; and at the same time Mohammed Aly,
who desired to be present at the Hadj, appeared unexpectedly at Mecca,
dressed in an ihram composed of two magnificent shawls of Kashmeer. All
the hajjîs residing in the city now assumed the ihram, with the usual
ceremonies, at their own lodgings, preparatory to their setting out
for Arafat, and at noon heard a short sermon in the mosque.

The city was now full of movement and activity: all the pilgrims were
preparing to set out for Arafat, some running hither and thither
in search of lodgings, others visiting the markets, or the Kaaba.
Many Meccawys, engaged in petty traffic, were hastening to establish
themselves on the mountain, for the accommodation of the pilgrims.
Camel-drivers led their beasts through the streets, offering them to
the pilgrims for hire. On the 24th of November, the Syrian caravan,
with the Mahmal, or sacred camel, in front, passed in procession
through the city. The majority of the pilgrims rode in a species of
palanquin, placed upon their camels; but the Pasha of Damascus, and
other grandees, were mounted in tackhtravans, or splendid litters,
which were borne by two camels. The heads of these picturesque animals
were decorated with feathers, tassels, and bells. Crowds of people of
all classes lined the streets, and greeted the pilgrims as they passed
with loud acclamations and praise. The martial music of the pasha,
twelve finely-caparisoned horses led in front of his tackhtravan,
and the rich litters in which his women rode, particularly attracted
attention. The Egyptian caravan followed soon after, and, consisting
entirely of military pilgrims in the splendid Turkish costume, was no
less admired than its predecessor. Both continued, without stopping,
their march to Arafat, and were almost immediately followed by the
other pilgrims in the city, and by far the greater proportion of the
population of Mecca and Jidda, among whom our traveller likewise
proceeded to the sacred hill.

Burckhardt reached the camp about three hours after sunset. The
pilgrims were still wandering about the plain, and among the tents,
in search of their companions, or of their resting-place, and many
did not arrive until midnight. Numberless fires glimmered upon the
dark plain to the extent of several miles; and high and brilliant
clusters of lamps marked the different places of encampment of Mohammed
Aly, Soleyman Pasha, and the Emir el Hadj of the Egyptian caravan.
Few slept: “the devotees set up praying, and their loud chants were
particularly distinguished on the side of the Syrian encampment. The
merry Meccawys formed themselves into parties, singing jovial songs,
accompanied by clapping of hands; and the coffee-houses scattered over
the plain were crowded all night with customers. The night was dark
and cold. I had formed a resting-place for myself by means of a large
carpet tied to the back of a Meccawy’s tent; and having walked about
for the greater part of the night, I had just disposed myself to sleep,
when two guns, fired by the Syrian and Egyptian Hadj, announced the
approaching dawn of the day of pilgrimage, and summoned the faithful to
prepare for their morning prayers.”

The scene which, on the unfolding of the dawn, presented itself to
the eye of the traveller, was one of the most extraordinary upon
earth. “Every pilgrim issued from his tent to walk over the plains,
and take a view of the busy crowds assembled there. Long streets of
tents, fitted up as bazaars, furnished all kinds of provisions. The
Syrian and Egyptian cavalry were exercised by their chiefs early in
the morning, while thousands of camels were seen feeding upon the dry
shrubs of the plain all round the camp.” Burckhardt now ascended the
summit of Arafat, whence he could enjoy a distant view of the whole,
the mountain being an isolated mass of granite, and reaching the height
of two hundred feet above the level of the plain. From this point he
counted about three thousand tents, but the far greater number were,
like himself, without tents. Twenty or twenty-five thousand camels
were dispersed, in separate groups, over the plain; and the number
of pilgrims of both sexes, and of all classes, could not amount to
less than seventy thousand. “The Syrian Hadj was encamped on the south
and south-west side of the mountain; the Egyptian on the south-east.
Around the house of the Sherif, Yahya himself was encamped with his
Bedouin troops, and in its neighbourhood were all the Hejaz people.
Mohammed Aly, and Soleyman, Pasha of Damascus, as well as several of
their officers, had very handsome tents; but the most magnificent of
all was that of the wife of Mohammed Aly, the mother of Tousoun Pasha
and Ibrahim Pasha, who had lately arrived at Cairo for the Hadj, with a
truly royal equipage, five hundred camels being necessary to transport
her baggage from Jidda to Mecca. Her tent was in fact an encampment,
consisting of a dozen tents of different sizes, inhabited by her
women; the whole enclosed by a wall of linen cloth, eight hundred
paces in circuit, the single entrance to which was guarded by eunuchs
in splendid dresses. Around this enclosure were pitched the tents of
the men who formed her numerous suite. The beautiful embroidery on
the exterior of this linen palace, with the various colours displayed
in every part of it, constituted an object which reminded me of some
descriptions in the Arabian Tales of the Thousand and One Nights.”

Among the prodigious crowd were persons from every corner of the
Mohammedan world. Burckhardt counted forty different languages, and
did not doubt that there were many more. About three o’clock in the
afternoon, the pilgrims, quitting their tents, which were immediately
struck, and mounting their camels, pressed forward towards Mount
Arafat, and covered its sides from top to bottom. The preacher now
took his stand upon the platform on the mountain, and began to address
the multitude. The hearing of the sermon, which lasts till sunset,
constitutes the holy ceremony of the Hadj, and without being present
at it, and at least appearing to hear, no pilgrim is entitled to the
name of hajjî. “The two pashas, with their whole cavalry drawn up in
two squadrons behind them, took their post in the rear of the deep
line of camels of the hajjîs, to which those of the people of the
Hejaz were also joined: and here they waited in solemn and respectful
silence the conclusion of the sermon. Farther removed from the preacher
was the Sherif Yahya, with his small body of soldiers, distinguished
by several green standards carried before him. The two Mahmals, or
holy camels, which carry on their backs the high structure that serves
as the banner of their respective caravans, made way with difficulty
through the ranks of camels that encircled the southern and eastern
sides of the hill, opposite to the preacher, and took their station,
surrounded by their guards, directly under the platform in front of
him. The preacher, or khatyb, who is usually the Kadhy of Mecca, was
mounted upon a finely-caparisoned camel, which had been led up the
steps; it being traditionally said that Mohammed was always seated when
he addressed his followers, a practice in which he was imitated by all
the califs who came to the Hadj, and who from hence addressed their
subjects in person. The Turkish gentleman of Constantinople, however,
unused to camel-riding, could not keep his seat so well as the hardy
Bedouin prophet; and the camel becoming unruly, he was soon obliged to
alight from it. He read his sermon from a book in Arabic, which he held
in his hands. At intervals of every four or five minutes he paused,
and stretched forth his arms to implore blessings from above; while
the assembled multitudes around and before him waved the skirts of
their ihrams over their heads, and rent the air with shouts of _Lebeyk,
Allah, huma Lebeyk!_--“Here we are at thy bidding, O God!” During the
wavings of the ihrams, the side of the mountain, thickly crowded as
it was by the people in their white garments, had the appearance of
a cataract of water; while the green umbrellas, with which several
thousand hajjîs, sitting on their camels below, were provided, bore
some resemblance to a verdant plain.”

Burckhardt was present at all the remaining ceremonies of the Hadj,
which I shall not now pause to describe; and after observing whatever
was worthy of examination both at Mecca and Jidda, he joined a small
caravan of pilgrims who were going to visit the tomb of the prophet,
and set out for Medina on the 15th of January, 1815. During this
journey he imprudently advanced before the caravan, and was attacked
by five Bedouins, from whom he was quickly delivered, however, by the
approach of his companions. They reached Medina on the 28th of January.
The ceremonies practised in this city were much less tedious than at
Mecca, and did not occupy our traveller more than a quarter of an hour.
Here, shortly after his arrival, he was attacked by an intermittent
fever, accompanied by extraordinary despondency. His condition, indeed,
was well calculated to inspire gloomy thoughts; for he had no society,
and but one book, which was, however, as he observes, worth a whole
shelf full of others. This was a pocket edition of Milton, which he had
borrowed from an English ship at Jidda.

Medina, it is well known, is chiefly indebted to the tomb of Mohammed
for its celebrity. This mausoleum, which stands on the south-eastern
corner of the principal mosque, is protected from the too near approach
of visiters by an iron railing, painted green, about two-thirds the
height of the pillars of the colonnade which runs round the interior
of the mosque. “The railing is of good workmanship, in imitation
of filligree, and is interwoven with open-worked inscriptions of
yellow bronze, supposed by the vulgar to be of gold, and of so close
a texture, that no view can be obtained of the interior except by
several small windows about six inches square, which are placed in
the four sides of the railing, about five feet above the ground.” On
the south side, where are the two principal windows, before which
the devout stand when praying, the railing is plated with silver,
and the common inscription--“There is no God but God, the Evident
Truth”--is wrought in silver letters round the windows. The tomb
itself, as well as that of Abu Bekr and Omar, which stand close to it,
is concealed from the public gaze by a curtain of rich silk brocade of
various colours, interwoven with silver flowers and arabesques, with
inscriptions in characters of gold running across the midst of it,
like that of the covering of the Kaaba. Behind this curtain, which,
according to the historian of the city, was formerly changed every six
years, and is now renewed by the Porte whenever the old one is decayed,
or when a new sultan ascends the throne, none but the chief eunuchs,
the attendants of the mosque, are permitted to enter. This holy
sanctuary once served, as the temple of Delphi did among the Greeks, as
the public treasury of the nation. Here the money, jewels, and other
precious articles of the people of the Hejaz were kept in chests, or
suspended on silken ropes. Among these was a copy of the Koran in Kufic
characters; a brilliant star set in diamonds and pearls, which was
suspended directly over the prophet’s tomb; with all sorts of vessels
set with jewels, earrings, bracelets, necklaces, and other ornaments,
sent as presents from all parts of the empire. Most of these articles
were carried away by the Wahabees when they sacked and plundered the
sacred cities.

On the 21st of April, 1815, Burckhardt quitted Medina with a small
caravan bound for Yembo, on the seacoast. His mind was still
exceedingly depressed by the weak state of his body; and his gayety
and animal spirits, with the energy which accompanies them in ardent
minds, having deserted him, the world assumed in his eyes a sombre
aspect, which rendered travelling and every other pleasure insipid.
All he now sighed for was rest. This mental condition seems strongly
to have affected even his opinions. His views both of men and things
became cynical. Vice seemed to have spread like a deluge over the
eastern world, leaving no single spot whereon Virtue might rest the
sole of her foot. “For my own part,” says he, “_a long residence_ among
Turks, Syrians, and Egyptians _justifies me in declaring that they
are wholly deficient in virtue, honour, and justice_; that they have
_little true piety_, and _still less charity or forbearance_; and that
_honesty_ is only to be found in their _paupers or idiots_.” His mind
was certainly labouring under the effects of his Medina fever when he
wrote this passage, and it would therefore be lost labour to analyze or
confute it minutely. That people who are “wholly deficient in virtue,
honour, and justice” should be destitute of honesty, is no more to be
wondered at than that a black camel should not be half-white; but if
“true piety” be, as most moralists will admit, to be numbered among
the virtues, then the orientals are not, as Mr. Burckhardt asserts,
“_wholly_ deficient in virtue,” &c., since he allows that they have
some, though but little, “true piety.” Again, either the majority of
the orientals are rich, or the majority of them are honest; for if the
majority of them are poor, or paupers, then the majority of them are
honest; for honesty, we are told, is only to be found among paupers and
idiots. It would be easy to expose and refute our traveller’s assertion
by the direct testimony of persons still more competent than he to
decide on such points; but his opinion is palpably absurd, like most
others formed by sick or gloomy individuals, since no society could
subsist if formed entirely of vicious members. Had Burckhardt himself
lived to see his works through the press, such passages as the above
would, I am persuaded, have been expunged or modified; for he was much
too judicious deliberately to have hazarded so monstrous an assertion.

Upon his arrival at Yembo, dejected and melancholy, to add to his
despondency, he found the plague raging in the city. The air, night and
day, was filled with the piercing cries of those who had been bereaved
of the objects of their affection; yet, as no vessel was ready to
sail for Egypt, he was constrained to remain during eighteen days in
the midst of the dying and the dead, continually exposed to infection
through the heedlessness and the imprudence of his slave. At length,
however, he procured a passage in an open boat bound for Cosseir, many
of the passengers in which were sick of a disease which appeared to
be the plague, though only two of them died. After remaining twenty
days on board, he was, at his own request, put on shore in the harbour
of Sherin, at the entrance of the Gulf of Akaba, where he agreed with
some Bedouins to transport him and his slave to Tor and Suez. Learning
on the way, however, that the plague was at Suez, he remained at a
village in the vicinity of the former place, where the enjoyment of
tranquillity and a bracing mountain air soon restored his strength,
and enabled him, though still convalescent, to pursue his journey to
Cairo, where he arrived on the 24th of June, after an absence of nearly
two years and a half. As his health was not yet completely recovered,
he undertook a journey into Lower Egypt during the following winter,
which, as he seems to have believed, restored his constitution to its
former tone.

His time was now entirely occupied in writing the journal of his
Nubian and Arabian travels, and in the necessary care of his health,
which, notwithstanding his sanguine expectation to the contrary, was
still in a somewhat equivocal state. In the spring of 1816 the plague
again broke out at Cairo, and our traveller, to avoid the infection,
undertook a journey to Mount Sinai, intending to remain, until the
pestilence should be over, among the Bedouins, who are never visited by
this scourge. During this excursion he traced the course of the eastern
branch of the Red Sea to within sight of Akaba, the ancient Ælanas,
which he was prevented by circumstances from visiting. On his return
to Cairo, he united with Mr. Salt in furnishing Belzoni with money for
transporting the head of Memnon from Gournou to Alexandria. The scheme,
it would seem, originated with Burckhardt and Salt, to whom, therefore,
we are chiefly indebted for the possession of that extraordinary
specimen of ancient art.

On the 4th of October, 1817, Burckhardt, who had so long waited in
vain for an opportunity of penetrating with a Moggrebin caravan into
Africa, was attacked with violent dysentery. The best medical advice
which an eminent English physician (Doctor Richardson), then at Cairo,
could afford was found unavailing. The disease prevailed, and on the
15th of the same month our able, adventurous, and lamented traveller
breathed his last. As he had lived while in the East as a Mussulman,
the Turks, he foresaw, would claim his body, “and perhaps,” said
he to Mr. Salt, who was present at his death-bed, “you had better
let them.”--“The funeral, as he desired,” says this gentleman, “was
Mohammedan, conducted with all proper regard to the respectable rank
which he had held in the eyes of the natives.” This was honourable
to his Cairo friends; and to those who are interested in the history
of his manly career it is gratifying to discover how highly he was
valued. I have closed the lives of few travellers with more regret.
It would have given me extreme pleasure to have followed him through
those undiscovered regions whither his ardent imagination so anxiously
tended; and, instead of thus recording his untimely death, to have
beheld him enjoying in the first capital of the world the reward
of his courage and enterprise. That I cannot enter into all Mr.
Burckhardt’s views, either of men or things, is no reason why I should
not be sensible of his extraordinary merit. His character, upon the
whole, admirably fitted him to be a great traveller. He was bold,
patient, persevering, judicious. He penetrated with admirable tact
into the designs of his enemies, and not only knew how to prevent
them, but, what was more difficult, to turn them to the confusion
of their inventors. Upon this very excellence, however, was based
one of his principal defects; he interpreted men in too refined and
systematical a manner, and often saw in their actions more contrivance
than ever existed. He was too hasty, moreover, in believing evil of
mankind, which, with too many other able speculators, he supposed to
be the necessary consequence of a philosophical spirit. But he was a
young man. His mind, had he lived, would unquestionably have purified
itself from this stain, as truth, which he possessed the courage and
the ability to search for with success, was his only object. The
works which he has left behind him, exceedingly numerous considering
his brief career, are an imperishable monument of his genius and
enterprise, and, when the fate of the writer is reflected on, can never
be read without a feeling of deep interest almost amounting to emotion.
Fortunately for his fame, their publication has been superintended
by editors every way qualified for the task, who, without in the
least dissipating their originality, must in very many instances have
infinitely improved their style and arrangement. A popular edition of
the whole would at once be a benefit to the public and an additional
honour to the memory of Burckhardt.



CONSTANTIN FRANCOIS CHASSEBŒUF DE VOLNEY.

Born 1757.--Died 1820.


This traveller, who is very justly enumerated among the most
distinguished which France has produced, was born on the 3d of
February, 1757, at Craon, in Anjou. His father, an able provincial
barrister, was unwilling that he should bear the name of _Chassebœuf_
(ox or bull hunter), which in his own case had been, though we are
not told how, a source of a thousand uneasinesses, and therefore gave
his son the name of Boisgirais, under which appellation our traveller
studied at the colleges of Ancenis and Angers, and was at first known
in the world. At a later period, just as he was about to depart for the
East, he quitted the name of Boisgirais, and assumed that of Volney,
which he was shortly after to render so celebrated.

Becoming his own master at the age of seventeen, with a small
independence bequeathed him by his mother, he quitted the country for
Paris, where he applied himself to the study of the severer sciences.
Volney felt no inclination for the profession of a barrister, which
it was his father’s desire he should follow; physic appeared to have
greater charms for him, and he at first seemed disposed to adopt this
as his profession; but his speculative turn of mind soon led him to
look with disdain on its practical part. Scarcely had he reached his
twentieth year when he entered with enthusiasm into the study of the
science of nature, delighting to discover the relations which subsist
between the moral and the physical world. He moreover devoted a
portion of his time to the study of the history and languages of
antiquity.

When he had made these preparations, apparently without foreseeing to
what use he should apply them, a small inheritance which fell to him
put him in possession of two hundred and forty pounds. “The difficulty
was,” he observes, “how to employ it. Some of my friends advised me to
enjoy the capital, others to purchase an annuity; but, on reflection,
I thought the sum too inconsiderable to make any sensible addition to
my income, and too great to be dissipated in frivolous expenses. Some
fortunate circumstances had habituated me to study; I had acquired a
taste, and even a passion, for knowledge; and this accession of fortune
appeared to me a fresh means of gratifying my inclination, and opening
a new way to improvement. I had read, and frequently heard repeated,
that of all the methods of adorning the mind and forming the judgment,
travelling is the most efficacious. I determined, therefore, on a plan
of travelling; but to what part of the world I should direct my course
remained still to be chosen. I wished the scene of my observations to
be new, or at least brilliant. My own country and the neighbouring
nations seemed to me either too well known or too easy of access;
the rising States of America and the savages were not without their
temptations; but other considerations determined me in favour of Asia.
Syria especially, and Egypt, both with a view of what they once have
been, and what they now are, appeared to me a field equally adapted to
those political and moral observations with which I wished to occupy my
mind.”

Foreseeing the fatigues and dangers of such a journey, he occupied a
whole year in preparing himself to undertake it, by accustoming his
body to the most violent exercises and the most painful privations.
At length, all his preparatory arrangements being completed, he
commenced his journey on foot, with a knapsack on his back, a musket
on his shoulder, and two hundred and forty pounds in gold concealed in
his girdle. “When I set out from Marseilles in 1783,” says he, “it was
with all my heart; with that alacrity, that confidence in others and
in myself which youth inspires. I gayly quitted a country of peace and
abundance to live in a country of barbarism and misery, from no other
motive than to employ the active and restless moments of youth, to
acquire a new kind of knowledge, which might procure for the remainder
of my days a certain portion of reputation and honour.”

On arriving in Egypt he proceeded to Cairo, where he remained during
seven months; after which, finding that there existed too many
obstacles to a proper examination of the interior parts of the country,
and that too little assistance in learning Arabic was to be obtained,
he determined on travelling into Syria. M. Durozoir, the author of the
Life of Volney, in the “Biographie Universelle,” to which I am greatly
indebted, falls into a most unaccountable error in narrating this part
of our traveller’s career. According to him, Volney had no sooner
arrived in Egypt than he shut himself up in a Coptic convent, where
he remained _eight months_, for the purpose of acquiring the Arabic;
after which he traversed the country with more advantages than any
other traveller had hitherto enjoyed. Volney himself asserts, on the
contrary, that he resided but _seven months_ in the country; that he
was prevented by obstacles which appeared to him insurmountable from
traversing more than a very small portion of Egypt; that he did not
acquire a competent knowledge of Arabic until he arrived in Syria,
where (and not in Egypt) he shut himself up during eight months in an
Arabian convent, in order to render himself master of the language.
M. Durozoir must have forgotten Pococke, and Shaw, and Hasselquist,
and Niebuhr and Bruce, every one of whom were superior in external
_advantages_ to Volney, and probably understood the language of the
country better than he did previous to his residence in Syria. It is
surprising, therefore, to find a writer of respectable name speaking
of the advantages which Volney possessed over all preceding travellers
in Egypt, arising from his long residence and knowledge, while most of
his predecessors saw ten times more of the country, enjoyed greater
privileges, and possessed a more intimate knowledge of Arabic. The
real advantage which Volney actually did possess over the majority of
Egyptian travellers consisted in his superior genius, which enabled him
to turn his short experience to good account, and to comprehend the
meanings of things which thousands had seen without comprehending at
all.

The mode in which Volney has given the results of his travels to
the public precludes the possibility of our following his track. He
sedulously avoids, as Daru has justly remarked, placing himself upon
the stage, and neither tells you by what route he travelled through
the country, nor what were the impressions which the sight of certain
objects produced upon his mind. The fact must be admitted, whether
it make for or against the author; but when the count proceeds to
inform us, in his inflated rhetorical style, that the traveller is
suddenly transformed into a native of the country, who, after mature
observation, describes its physical, political, and moral condition, we
smile at his boyish enthusiasm.

I cannot help regretting, however, that our traveller should have
omitted to trace his route through Egypt, not only because his having
done so would have been advantageous to me, but from a persuasion
that the omission has been seriously injurious to his popularity. It
is, moreover, a very great error, and one in which I myself formerly
participated, to imagine that a traveller is more likely to impart
just notions of the scene of his researches by giving the results only
of his experience, suppressing the manner in which that experience
was obtained. An attentive examination of the works of travellers of
all ages and countries has at length created a contrary conviction
in my mind. In a judicious personal narrative the traveller is but
one interlocutor in a drama exhibiting innumerable characters and a
perpetually changing scene. You in some sort behold him surrounded by
strangers in a strange land; you observe them not, and hear them, as it
were, converse together; and if the traveller himself sometimes feigns
or walks in masquerade, it is rarely that the natives can be supposed
to have sufficiently powerful motives for so doing. They exhibit
themselves exactly as they are. It would seem to follow from this view
of the case, that whatever its advantages in other respects may be, the
method adopted by Volney is liable, on the grounds above stated, to
very serious objections. It not only shuts out the traveller from our
view, but, in lieu of an animated picture, presents us with reasoning
and discussion, able, I admit, and frequently original, but wanting
that irresistible charm which is possessed in so eminent a degree by
beautiful narrative.

Having examined such objects of curiosity in Lower Egypt as could
easily be viewed, and collected ample materials for the defence of
Herodotus, the greatest traveller of all antiquity, from the attacks
of conceited and ignorant persons, Volney passed into Syria. “Here,”
he observes, “eight months’ residence among the Druses, in an Arabian
convent, rendered the Arabic familiar to me, and enabled me to travel
through all Syria during a whole year.” His long residence in the
mountains of Syria, during which he no doubt undertook numerous little
excursions in various directions, furnished him with materials for a
correct picture of the scene. This he has drawn with equal vigour
and beauty. “Lebanon,” says he, “which gives its name to the whole
extensive chain of the Kesraouan, and the country of the Druses,
presents us everywhere with majestic mountains. At every step we
meet with scenes in which nature displays either beauty or grandeur;
sometimes singularity, but always variety. When we land on the coast,
the loftiness and steep ascent of this mountainous ridge, which seems
to enclose the country, those gigantic masses which shoot into the
clouds, inspire astonishment and awe. Should the curious traveller then
climb these summits which bound his view, the wide extended place which
he discovers becomes a fresh subject of admiration; but completely to
enjoy this majestic scene, he must ascend the very point of Lebanon,
or the Sannia. There on every side he will view a horizon without
bounds; while in clear weather the sight is lost over the desert, which
extends to the Persian Gulf, and over the sea, which bathes the coasts
of Europe. He seems to command the whole world, while the wandering
eye, now surveying the successive chains of mountains, transports
the imagination in an instant from Antioch to Jerusalem, and now
approaching the surrounding objects, observes the distant profundity of
the coast, till the attention, at length, fixed by distinctive objects,
more minutely examines the rocks, woods, torrents, hillsides, villages,
and towns; and the mind secretly exults at the diminution of things
which before appeared so great. He contemplates the valley obscured by
stormy clouds with a novel delight; and smiles at hearing the thunder,
which had so often burst over his head, growling under his feet, while
the threatening summits of the mountains are diminished till they
appear only like the furrows of a ploughed field, or the steps of an
amphitheatre; and he feels himself flattered by an elevation above so
many great objects on which pride makes him look down with a secret
satisfaction. When the traveller visits the interior parts of these
mountains, the ruggedness of the roads, the steepness of the descents,
the height of the precipices, strike him at first with terror, but the
sagacity of his mule soon relieves him, and he examines at his ease
those picturesque scenes which succeed each other to entertain him.
There, as in the Alps, he travels whole days to reach a place that
was in sight at his departure: he winds, he descends, he skirts the
hills, he climbs; and in this perpetual change of position it seems as
if some magic power varied for him at every step the decorations of
the scenery. Sometimes he sees villages ready to glide from the steep
declivities on which they are built, and so disposed, that the terraces
of one row of houses serve as a street to the row above them. Sometimes
he sees a convent standing on a solitary eminence, like Mar-shaya in
the valley of the Tigris. Here is a rock perforated by a torrent, and
become a natural arch, like that of Nahr-el-Leben. There another rock,
worn perpendicular, resembles a lofty wall.”

The same difficulty of tracing the footsteps of our traveller of
which I complained when speaking of his Egyptian journey occurs again
in Syria. It is, in fact, impossible to discover from his works any
particulars, excepting a few dates, which are perfectly unimportant.
After a protracted residence at the convent of Mar-hanna, or “St.
John,” where, as already observed, he matured his knowledge of Arabic,
he descended into the lower districts, and visited a Bedouin camp,
near Gaza, where he remained several days. I know not whether it was
upon this or on some other occasion that he so far recommended himself
to the chief of a tribe by his agreeable manners, as to inspire in
the Arabs a desire to retain him among them. Having remarked that the
Bedouins enjoy an extraordinary freedom from religious prejudices,
and are consequently disposed to be tolerant, he adds, “Nothing can
better describe, or be a more satisfactory proof of this, than a
dialogue which one day passed between myself and one of their sheïkhs,
named Ahmed, son of Bahir, chief of the tribe of Wahidia. ‘Why,’ said
this sheïkh to me, ‘do you wish to return among the Franks? Since you
have no aversion to our manners, since you know how to use the lance
and manage a horse like a Bedouin, stay among us. We will give you
pelisses, a tent, a virtuous and young Bedouin girl, and a good blood
mare. You shall live in our house.’--‘But do you not know,’ said I,
‘that, born among the Franks, I have been educated in their religion?
In what light will the Arabs view an infidel, or what will they think
of an apostate?’--‘And do you not yourself perceive,’ said he, ‘that
the Arabs live without troubling themselves either about the prophet,
or the _Book_ (the Koran)? Every man with us follows the dictates of
his conscience. Men have a right to judge of actions, but religion must
be left to God alone.’ Another sheïkh, conversing with me one day,
addressed me, by mistake, in the customary formulary, ‘Listen, and
pray for the prophet.’ Instead of the usual answer, _I have prayed_,
I replied with a smile, ‘_I listen_.’ He recollected his error, and
smiled in his turn. A Turk of Jerusalem who was present took the matter
up more seriously: ‘O sheïkh,’ said he, ‘how canst thou address the
words of the true believers to an infidel?’--‘The tongue is _light_;’
replied the sheïkh, ‘let but the heart be _white_ (pure); but you who
know the customs of the Arabs, how can you offend a stranger, with whom
we have eaten bread and salt?’ Then, turning to me, ‘All those tribes
of Frankestan, of whom you told me that they follow not the law of the
prophet, are they more numerous than the Mussulmans?’--‘It is thought,’
answered I, ‘that they are five or six times more numerous, even
including the Arabs.’--‘God is just,’ returned he; ‘he will weigh them
in his balance.’”

The most singular people, however, who came under the observation of
Volney during his eastern travels, were unquestionably the Druses.
Extraordinary stories respecting their origin and manners had from
time to time prevailed in Europe. By some they were supposed to be
the descendants of the crusaders, particularly of the English; others
attributed to them a different origin; but all agreed in accusing them
of believing in strange absurd dogmas, and of practising monstrous
rites. At length he obtained from oriental writers the following
account of the rise of this remarkable sect. In the year of the
Hegira 386 (A. D. 996) the third calif of the race of the Fatimites,
called Hakem-b’amr-ellah, succeeded to the throne of Egypt, at the
age of eleven years. He was one of the most extraordinary princes of
whom history has preserved the memory. He caused the first calif,
the companion of Mahomet, to be cursed in the mosques, and afterward
revoked the anathema. He compelled the Jews and Christians to abjure
their religion, and then permitted them to resume it. He prohibited
the making slippers for women, to prevent their coming out of their
houses. He burnt one-half of the city of Cairo for his diversion, while
his soldiers pillaged the other. Not content with these extravagant
actions, he forbade the pilgrimage to Mecca, fasting, and the five
prayers; and at length carried his madness so far, as to desire to pass
for God himself. He ordered a register of those who acknowledged him
to be so; and the number amounted to sixteen thousand. This impious
pretension was supported by a false prophet, who came from Persia
into Egypt; which impostor, named Mohammed-ben-Ismael, taught that it
was not necessary to fast or pray, to practise circumcision, to make
the pilgrimage to Mecca, or observe festivals; that the prohibition
of pork and wine was absurd; and that marriage between brothers and
sisters, fathers and children, was lawful. To ingratiate himself
with Hakem, he maintained that this calif was God himself incarnate,
and instead of his name being _Hakem-b’amr-ellah_, which signifies
governing by the order of God, he called him _Hakem-b’amr-eh_,
governing by his own order. Unluckily for the prophet, his god had
not the power to protect him from the fury of his enemies, who slew
him in a tumult, almost in the arms of the calif, who was himself
massacred soon after on Mount Mokattam, where he, as he said, had held
conversation with angels. The death of these two chiefs did not prevent
the progress of their opinions: a disciple of Mohammed-ben-Ismael,
named Hamzaben-Ahmud, propagated them with indefatigable zeal, in
Egypt, in Palestine, and along the coast of Syria, as far as Sidon
and Berytus. His proselytes, it seems, underwent the same fate as the
Maronites; for being persecuted by the sect in power, they took refuge
in the mountains of Lebanon, where they were better able to defend
themselves; at least it is certain, that shortly after this era we find
them established there, and forming an independent society like their
neighbours.

In the opinion of Volney the great body of the Druses are wholly
destitute of religion; “yet,” says he, “one class of them must be
excepted, whose religious customs are very peculiar. Those who compose
it are to the rest of the nation what the _initiated_ are to the
_profane_; they assume the name of Okkals, which means spiritualists;
and bestow on the vulgar the epithet Djahel, or ignorant; they have
various degrees of initiation, the highest orders of which require
celibacy. These are distinguishable by the white turban they affect
to wear, as a symbol of their purity; and so proud are they of this
supposed purity, that they think themselves sullied by even touching
a profane person. If you eat out of their plate, or drink out of their
cup, they break them; and hence the custom so general in this country,
of using vases with a sort of cock, which may be drunk out of without
touching the lips. All their practices are enveloped in mysteries.
Their oratories always stand alone, and are constantly situated on
eminences: in these they hold their secret assemblies, to which
women are admitted. It is pretended they perform ceremonies there in
presence of a small statue resembling an ox or a calf; whence some have
pretended to prove that they are descended from the Samaritans. But,
besides that the fact is not well ascertained, the worship of the ox
may be deduced from other circumstances.

“They have one or two books which they conceal with the greatest care,
but chance has deceived their jealousy; for, in a civil war, which
happened six or seven years ago, the Emir Yousef, who is _Djahel_,
or ignorant, found one among the pillage of their oratories. I am
assured by persons who have read it, that it contains only a mystic
jargon, the obscurity of which doubtless renders it valuable to adepts.
Hakem-b’amr-ellah is there spoken of, by whom they mean God, incarnated
in the person of the calif. It likewise treats of another life, of
a place of punishment and a place of happiness, where the Okkals
shall of course be most distinguished. Several degrees of perfection
are mentioned, to which they arrive by successive trials. In other
respects these sectaries have all the insolence and all the fears of
superstition: they are not communicative, because they are weak; but it
is probable that, were they powerful, they would be promulgators and
intolerant.”

On returning to France after an absence of nearly three years (which
M. Durozoir, who loves to differ with the traveller upon such points,
will have to be nearly _four years_), Volney employed himself in
preparing his “Travels” for the press. Upon the appearance of the work
the public, which is seldom in the wrong in such matters, received it
as a masterpiece of its kind; and from that time to the present its
reputation may be said to be on the increase. I am averse from adopting
the unmeaning or exaggerated panegyrics of his French biographers, who
are satisfied with nothing short of regarding Volney as the continuator
of Herodotus, with whom they seem to consider him upon a par. No
person can be more desirous than myself to enhance the just praises
of Volney, who has exhibited, in his description of Syria and Egypt,
remarkable force and depth of thinking, and powers of delineation of
no ordinary class. But in Herodotus we have a picture of the whole
world, as far, at least, as it was known in his time, sketched with
inimitable truth and brevity, and adorned with a splendour of colouring
which with matchless skill he has known how to unite with the severest
accuracy. To many of the excellences of this writer Volney has no
pretensions. Others he may have possessed in an equal degree; but I
will not continue a comparison in itself absurd, never dreamed of by
the traveller himself, and which could only have suggested itself to
writers blinded by national vanity.

To proceed, however, with the events of our traveller’s life. No sooner
had the travels appeared, than the Empress Catherine II., who, besides
her desire to wheedle every writer of distinction in Europe, was
really actuated by an admiration for genius, sent him a gold medal in
token of her satisfaction. This was in the year 1787. In the following
year he published his “Considerations on the War between the Turks
and Russians.” In this political pamphlet the knowledge which he had
acquired in his travels was of course the basis of his reasoning; but
he had likewise received, perhaps from the Russian court, information
which would appear to have been correct, respecting the resources of
the Scythians; for events, says his French biographer with a kind
of triumph, have realized nearly all his predictions. He did not,
continues the same writer, forget, in the consideration of this great
quarrel, the interests of France, and dwelt more particularly on
the project of seizing upon Egypt, in order to counterbalance the
aggrandizement of Russia and Austria. But to the execution of this
project he foresaw numerous obstacles. “In the first place,” said
he, “it will be necessary to maintain three separate wars: the first
against Turkey, the second against the English, and a third against
the natives of Egypt, which, though apparently the least formidable,
will be the most dangerous of the three. Should the Franks venture to
disembark in the country, Turks, Arabs, and peasants would all arm
against them at once: and fanaticism would serve them instead of art
and courage.”

From the period of his return into his country, being actuated by the
desire of being useful, which seems to have been ever predominant in
his mind, though it did not always manifest itself in a rational way,
Volney conceived the idea of introducing improvements in agriculture in
the island of Corsica. For this purpose he began to concert measures
for purchasing an estate in that island, on which he meant to make
several experiments in the culture of the sugar-cane, cotton, indigo,
coffee, &c. The utility of these schemes induced the French government
to nominate him Director of Agriculture and Commerce in Corsica; but
other duties retained him in his country. Upon the convocation of the
States General in 1789, he was elected deputy for the seneschalship
of Anjou. Shortly after this he resigned the place he held under
government, being persuaded that the duties of a representative of the
people, and those of a dependant on the government, are incompatible.
In the tribune of the Constituent Assembly Volney advocated the same
opinions which are found in his writings. He was the declared enemy
of despotism, whether exercised by one individual or by many; and
constantly distinguished himself by his bold and liberal advocacy of
popular rights. His intimate connexion with Cabanis, celebrated for
the extravagance of his metaphysical opinions, frequently brought him
into contact with Mirabeau, the Catiline of the revolution. This able
improvisator, equally indifferent respecting the _meum_ and _tuum_ in
ideas as in money, in a discussion concerning the clergy, borrowed from
Volney his well-known rhetorical flourish _on the window of Charles
IX._, from whence that gracious monarch amused himself with shooting
at his subjects. Twenty deputies were besieging the tribune, and among
these was Volney, who held a written discourse in his hand. “Show
me what you are going to say,” said Mirabeau. “This is beautiful,
sublime,” he exclaimed, after having glanced over the manuscript;
“but it is not with a feeble voice and a clear countenance that such
things should be uttered. Give the manuscript to me!” Such consummate
arrogance was not to be resisted. Volney yielded up his speech to the
audacious sophist, who, melting up our traveller’s original ideas
with his own, poured out the whole with that artificial theatrical
enthusiasm which produces upon inexperienced minds nearly the same
effects as eloquence. It is said that Volney ere long began to perceive
that the storm which had been raised with so much labour and artifice
was likely to sweep away in its fury much more than was intended; and
that he then began to think of moderating its rage. But if he was in
earnest in his opposition, he very quickly had the mortification to
discover that his efforts were futile; that revolution had, in fact,
become a general movement, which bore down with irresistible violence
every obstacle which might be opposed to it, whether by friends or foes.

In the midst of these political labours Volney found time to produce
two works of very different character and pretensions: “The Chronology
of the Twelve Centuries preceding the Invasion of Greece by Xerxes,”
and his well-known rhapsody called the “Ruins.” Shortly after this,
the Empress Catherine, who found that she had been made the dupe of
the French sophists, declared herself the enemy of France; upon which
Volney, eager to display his contempt for his fickle admirer, returned
the medal which she had formerly presented to him. Upon this, Grimm,
the literary gladiator of the empress, and up to that moment the friend
of Volney, addressed him a letter filled with the most biting sarcasms
and unjust personalities, but written in so keen a style that it has
been attributed to Rivarol, another clever advocate of ancient abuses.

In 1792 Volney accompanied Pozzo di Borgo to Corsica, with his old
design of making agricultural experiments. He accordingly purchased
the estate of La Confina, near Ajaccio, and was proceeding to realize
some of his useful plans, when he was driven from the island by the
troubles excited by Pascal Paoli, who sold his estate by auction,
notwithstanding that he had recently given him various assurances
of friendship. During his residence in Corsica our traveller became
acquainted with Napoleon, who was at that time only an officer of
artillery. He is said to have divined the character of this ambitious
man from the first; and some years later, upon learning in America that
Napoleon had been appointed commander of the army of Italy, he remarked
to several French refugees, “Provided that circumstances second him,
he will be found to possess the head of Cæsar on the shoulders of
Alexander.” This oracular saying, which is by no means the best thing
of the kind attributed to our traveller, is remarkable merely for the
pomposity of the expression, and signifies little or nothing, except
that Napoleon was as able as he was ambitious. On his return to France,
in 1793, he published a “Sketch of the State of Corsica,” and the
“Law of Nature,” the latter of which M. Durozoir, with characteristic
exaggeration, pronounces to be “one of the best treatises on morals
which have ever been published in any language.” The “Law of Nature” is
well known in England, and proves its writer to have been a man of an
acute and vigorous mind, as well as an accomplished master of style;
but it would be paying Volney an absurd compliment to place his little
catechism, in which there are no ideas absolutely new, on a level with
the “Ethics to Nichomachus,” or the great work of Panætius, of which
we may form a tolerably clear conception from the “De Officiis” of
Cicero, which is little more than a copy of it. Moreover, in the “Law
of Nature,” man is considered too much in a material, and too little in
a spiritual light; which, though it may be a merit in the eyes of such
a writer as M. Durozoir, must to a person of a different creed appear
to be a very remarkable defect. Considering the question merely in a
philosophical point of view, it can, I think, admit of no dispute that
the incentives to good actions can never be too numerous; but Volney,
from his peculiar notions, could only speak of morals as of physical
science, which, taken as a whole, it certainly is not. Whatever merit
this little tract may possess, therefore, it seems to be essentially
defective in attributing to one set of principles effects which they
never produce unless in combination with others.

In 1793 our traveller, whose political opinions were purely republican,
was imprisoned ten months as a _royalist_, and only recovered his
liberty after the events of the 9th of Thermidor. To console him in
some degree for this injustice, he was shortly afterward appointed
historical professor in the Normal School, which had just then been
established by the friends of order and of their country. Volney was
eminently well qualified to shine in this capacity. His reading,
which was immense, had lain much, if not chiefly, among historical
writers; and his calm, penetrating genius enabled him to discover with
extraordinary precision the natural chain of events. Nevertheless,
from a passion for vain paradox, which has of late been but too common
both in France and Germany among persons who would be thought to be
philosophers, he unfortunately exhibited in his historical researches
a degree of skepticism highly absurd. He had perhaps read and admired
the startling proposition of Aristotle, that doubt is the foundation of
all science; but if doubt eternally generate doubt, upon what basis are
the sciences to be erected? The Greek philosopher, I conceive, merely
intends to say, that without doubt there can be no inquiry, and without
inquiry no science. However, notwithstanding this radical defect,
Volney’s lectures at the Normal School were received with applause,
principally perhaps from the striking originality of the author’s
style, and the novelty of his views. Truths long and familiarly known,
appear to lose their beauty, and are eagerly exchanged for errors,
tricked out in all the dazzling gloss of novelty.

His oratorical career was not of long duration. The Normal School was
quickly suppressed; and Volney, disgusted and fatigued with fruitless
endeavours to benefit his country, determined on deserting it for ever,
and seeking in the New World that tranquillity which he had failed to
find in the Old. On his arrival in the United States of America, in
1795, he was well received by Washington, who gave him many public
marks of his confidence and friendship. It is said, however, though I
know not upon what grounds, that John Adams, elected president in 1797,
entertained feelings highly inimical to Volney, who, a short time
before, had criticised severely, perhaps unjustly, his “Defence of the
Constitutions of the United States.” It is even insinuated by Durozoir,
whose unsupported testimony I should, however, refuse to accept in a
matter of this kind, that our traveller was driven from America by the
unmanly revenge of John Adams in the spring of 1798. Be this as it may,
he was suspected by the Americans of being engaged in a conspiracy
for delivering up Louisiana to the Directory; while in France, on the
other hand, he was accused of having asserted that Louisiana could
never become an advantageous possession of the French republic. While
his mind was thus harassed by contradictory and absurd suspicions, Dr.
Priestley published his “Observations on the Progress of Infidelity,”
&c., in which Volney, says Durozoir, who probably had no more read
Priestley’s pamphlet than I have, was denounced as an “atheist, an
ignoramus, a Chinese, and a Hottentot.” Priestley was no doubt a rough
polemic, too much addicted, perhaps, to hard names; but the work which
he denounced had, in many respects, a highly mischievous tendency, and
in refuting it some degree of warmth was pardonable.

On our traveller’s return to France, where he had been elected a member
of the Institute during his absence, he became once more intimately
connected with Napoleon, whom, in 1794, he had dissuaded from seeking
military employment in Turkey or Russia, and by his influence caused
to be restored to his rank in the army. Napoleon was not ungrateful,
and when elected to the consulate was desirous of naming Volney his
colleague. This dignity, however, the traveller refused, as well as
that of minister of the interior, which was soon afterward offered
him. He was content with the mere rank of senator. When at a future
period Napoleon was about to assume the title of emperor, Volney
ventured to oppose him, observing that _it were better to restore the
Bourbons_. From this time forward he was invariably found among that
small minority in the senate who condemned and opposed the despotic
measures of the emperor; yet he allowed himself to be decorated with
the rank of count, and the title of commandant of the Legion of Honour.
Still he took little share in political matters, preferring before all
distinctions retirement and study.

In 1803 appeared his “Description of the Climate and Soil of the United
States,” a work possessing, no doubt, considerable merit, but which
has been far from obtaining equal success with his “Eastern Travels.”
He now resumed his chronological studies, which had been for some time
interrupted. In these he gave vent to all his heterodox opinions,
which it could answer no good purpose either to retail or refute in
this place. Others, more deeply versed than I in the chronology of the
world, have performed this task; which was not, however, extremely
necessary, as Volney’s labours on this subject seem designed never
to acquire popularity. In 1810 he married Mademoiselle Chassebœuf,
his cousin, for whose amusement he purchased a large mansion, with
extensive gardens, &c., in the Rue Vaugirard. Here he lived in a kind
of morose and misanthropic retirement, heightened, if not caused, by
his gloomy and unhappy opinions; and here he died, on the 25th of
April, 1820, in the sixty-third year of his age.



EDWARD DANIEL CLARKE.

Born 1769.--Died 1822.


Edward Daniel Clarke was born on the 5th of June, 1769, at Willingdon,
in the county of Sussex. Even when a child he is said to have displayed
great narrative powers, which he exercised as frequently as possible
for the amusement of his father’s domestics and parishioners. In his
boyish studies, however, he was wanting in application; a fault arising
from the quickness and vivacity of his mind, actuated by insatiable
curiosity, and characterized from the beginning by a decided partiality
for natural history. Still, the loss sustained by this species of
negligence he afterward severely felt, when, notwithstanding the habits
of industry which he acquired at a later period of youth, it was found
impossible by any degree of exertion to retrieve the moments misspent
or wasted in boyhood. At the same time there was one advantage derived
from his unstudious inclinations; they urged him to be much abroad
in the open air, where he amused himself with running, leaping, and
swimming, in which last accomplishment he was particularly skilled, and
on one occasion had the satisfaction of saving by this means the life
of his younger brother, who was seized by the cramp while bathing in
the moat which surrounded his father’s house.

In the spring of 1786, through the kindness of Dr. Beadon, afterward
Bishop of Bath and Wells, Clarke obtained the office of chapel clerk
at Jesus College, Cambridge, whither he removed about the Easter of
the above year. Next year he sustained the heavy calamity to lose a
pious, beneficent, affectionate father, by which misfortune, young and
inexperienced as he was, without a profession, and with few prospects
of advancement, he was entirely thrown upon his own resources, his
remaining parent not possessing the means of aiding him with aught
beyond her prayers. Fortunately his deceased father had, instead of
wealth, bequeathed to his family a more valuable inheritance; a name
revered for sanctity, and a number of noble-minded friends, who not
only provided for the immediate necessities of its several members,
but continued to watch over their progress, and on many important
occasions to advance their interests in after-life. Nevertheless,
Clarke had to contend with numerous difficulties. “Soon after the death
of their father,” says Mr. Otter, “the two elder sons returned to
college; and Edward, having now acquired a melancholy title to one of
the scholarships of the society of Jesus College, founded by Sir Tobias
Rustat, for the benefit of clergymen’s orphans, was elected a scholar
on this foundation immediately upon his return. The emoluments of his
scholarship, joined to those of an exhibition from Tunbridge school,
and the profits of his chapel clerk’s place, amounting in the whole
to less than 90_l._ a year, were his principal, indeed it is believed
his only resources during his residence at college; and, however well
they may have been husbanded, it must be evident that, even in those
times of comparative moderation in expense, they could not have been
sufficient for his support, especially when it is understood that
he was naturally liberal to a fault. It does not appear, however,
that he derived during this time any pecuniary assistance from his
father’s friends; and as there is the strongest reason to believe that
he faithfully adhered to the promise he had made to his mother, that
he would never draw upon her slender resources for his support, it
may excite some curiosity to know by what means the deficiency was
supplied. The fact is, that he was materially assisted in providing for
his college expenses by the liberality of his tutor, Mr. Plampin, who,
being acquainted with his circumstances, suffered his bills to remain
in arrear; and they were afterward discharged from the first profits he
derived from his private pupils.”

The indolent inactivity which had marked his school studies did not
desert him at college. He seems, in fact, to have been disgusted with
the system of education pursued at Cambridge, caring nothing for
mathematics, which were there regarded as all in all, and finding
among the other mental pursuits of the place nothing whatever to
kindle the ardour of his ambitious mind. Still the desire of fame,
without which man never performed any thing great, began gradually
to manifest itself in his character both to himself and others.
Exceedingly uncertain as to the mode, he yet determined to acquire
in one way or another a reputation in literature; and while many of
those around him were descanting complacently upon his failings, and
the consequent backwardness of his acquirements, he silently felt the
sting which was so soon to goad him on to a destiny more brilliant than
his compassionate comrades ever dreamed of. His favourite studies,
however, such as they were, he seems to have pursued with considerable
eagerness; and by degrees his taste, after wavering for some time,
settled definitively on literature.

In the spring of 1790 Clarke obtained, through the recommendation of
Dr. Beadon, then Bishop of Gloucester, the office of private tutor to
the honourable Henry Tufton, nephew to the Duke of Dorset. The place
selected for his residence with his pupil, says Mr. Otter, was a large
house belonging to Lord Thanet, inhabited at that time only by one or
two servants, situated in a wild and secluded part of the county of
Kent, and cut off, as well by distance as bad roads, from all cheerful
and improving society; a residence suitable enough to a nobleman with a
large establishment and a wide circle of friends, but the last place,
one would have thought, to improve and polish a young man of family
just entering into active life. His pupil, moreover, had conceived
a dislike for study and for tutors of every kind, which promised to
enhance the tedium of a life spent in such a scene. But Clarke, who
probably sympathized with the young man’s aversion from intellectual
task-work, very quickly succeeded by his gay, lively, insinuating
manners in winning his confidence, and, apparently, in convincing him
that a certain degree of knowledge might be useful, even to a man of
his rank. This agreeable result, which seems to have been somewhat
unexpected, so raised our incipient traveller in the estimation of
the Duke of Dorset, that the engagement, which appears to have been
at first for nine months only, was prolonged another year, the latter
part of which was occupied in making with his pupil the tour of Great
Britain. Of these domestic travels he on his return published the
history; but the performance appears to have been hastily and slovenly
written, and, as has been the fate of many other youthful works, to
have been severely judged by the mature author, jealous of his fame,
and averse from exhibiting to the public the nakedness of his unformed
mind.

Shortly after the conclusion of this tour he accompanied his pupil
in a little excursion to Calais, when he enjoyed the satisfaction,
which none but a traveller can appreciate, of treading for the first
time on foreign ground. In 1792 he was fortunate enough to obtain an
engagement to travel with Lord Berwick, whom he had known at college,
and in the autumn of that year set out in company with that young
nobleman, through Germany and Switzerland into Italy. He was now in the
position for which nature had originally designed him. “An unbounded
love of travel,” says he, “influenced me at a very early period of my
life. It was conceived in infancy, and I shall carry it with me to the
grave. When I reflect upon the speculations of my youth, I am at a
loss to account for a passion which, predominating over every motive
of interest and every tie of affection, urges me to press forward and
to pursue inquiry, even in the bosoms of the ocean and the desert.
Sometimes, in the dreams of fancy, I am weak enough to imagine that the
map of the world was painted in the awning of my cradle, and that my
nurse chanted the wanderings of pilgrims in her legendary lullabies.”
This was the spirit which urged the Marco Polos, the Chardins, and
the Bruces to undertake their illustrious journeys; and if Clarke was
compelled by circumstances to confine his researches to less remote and
better known countries, he exhibited in his rambles through these a
kindred enthusiasm, and similar devotion and energy.

Clarke and his companion having passed the Alps, which, however
frequently seen, still maintain their rank among the most sublime
objects in nature, descended into Italy, visited Turin and Rome, and
then proceeded to Naples, in which city and its environs they remained
nearly two years. In the summer of 1793 there was, as is well known, an
eruption of Mount Vesuvius, which our traveller, now an inhabitant of
Naples, enjoyed ample opportunities of visiting. And here a striking
manifestation of the daring intrepidity of the English occurred: for
not only Clarke himself, part of whose business as a traveller it
was to familiarize himself with danger, but numbers of other English
gentlemen, and even ladies, ascended to the mouth of the burning crater
and the sources of lava-streams in an active state for mere amusement;
where, on one occasion, a lady narrowly escaped death from a large
stone from the volcano, which flew by her like a wheel. At another time
the whole party were menaced with the fate of the elder Pliny. It was
in the month of February. “I found the crater in a very active state,”
says Clarke, “throwing out volleys of immense stones transparent with
vitrification, and such showers of ashes involved in thick sulphurous
clouds as rendered any approach to it extremely dangerous. We ascended
as near as possible, and then crossing over to the lava attempted
to coast it up to its source. This we soon found was impossible,
for an unfortunate wind blew all the smoke of the lava hot upon us,
attended at the same time with such a thick mist of minute ashes from
the crater, and such fumes of sulphur, that we were in danger of
being suffocated. In this perplexity I had recourse to an expedient
recommended by Sir W. Hamilton, and proposed immediately crossing
the current of liquid lava to gain the windward side of it; but felt
some fears, owing to the very liquid appearance the lava there had so
near its source. All my companions were against the scheme, and while
we stood deliberating, immense fragments of stone and huge volcanic
bombs that had been cast out by the crater, but which the smoke had
prevented us from observing, fell thick about us, and rolled by with a
velocity that would have crushed any of us, had we been in the way. I
found we must either leave our present spot, or expect instant death;
therefore, covering my face with my hat, I rushed upon the lava and
crossed over safely to the other side, having my boots only a little
burnt and my hands scorched. Not one of my companions, however, would
stir, nor could any persuasion of mine avail in getting a single guide
over to me. I then saw clearly the whole of the scene, and expected
my friends would every moment be sacrificed to their own imprudence
and want of courage, as the stones from the crater fell continually
around them, and vast rocks of lava bounded by them with great force.
At last I had the satisfaction of seeing them retire, leaving me
entirely alone. I begged hard for a torch to be thrown over to me, that
I might not be lost when the night came on. It was then that André, one
of the ciceroni of Resina, after being promised a bribe, ran over to
me, and brought with him a bottle of wine and a torch. We had coasted
the lava, ascending for some time, when looking back I perceived my
companions endeavouring to cross the lava lower down, where the stream
was narrower. In doing this they found themselves insulated, as it
were, and surrounded by two different rivers of liquid fire. They
immediately pressed forward, being terribly scorched by both currents,
and ran to the side where I was; in doing which one of the guides fell
into the middle of the red-hot lava, but met with no other injury than
having his hands and face burnt, and losing at the same time a bottle
of vin de grave, which was broken in the fall, and which proved a very
unpleasant loss to us, being ready to faint with excessive thirst,
fatigue, and heat. Having once more rallied my forces, I proceeded on,
and in about half an hour I gained the chasm through which the lava had
opened itself a passage out of the mountain. To describe this sight is
utterly beyond all human ability. My companions, who were with me then,
shared in the astonishment it produced; and the sensations they felt in
concert with me were such as can be obliterated only with our lives.
All I had seen of volcanic phenomena before did not lead me to expect
such a spectacle as I then beheld. I had seen the vast rivers of lava
which descended into the plains below, and carried ruin and devastation
with them; but they resembled a vast heap of cinders on the scoriæ of
an iron foundry, rolling slowly along, and falling with a rattling
noise over one another. Here a vast arched chasm presented itself in
the side of the mountain, from which rushed with the velocity of a
flood the clear vivid torrent of lava in perfect fusion, and totally
unconnected with any other matter that was not in a state of complete
solution, unattended by any scoriæ on its surface, or gross materials
of an insolvent nature; but flowing with the translucency of honey, in
regular channels cut finer than art can imitate, and glowing with all
the splendour of the sun.”

In the July of the same year our traveller viewed Vesuvius under
another aspect, when soft, tranquil beauty had succeeded to terrific
sublimity. “While we were at tea in the Albergo Reale,” says he, “such
a scene presented itself as every one agreed was beyond any thing of
that kind they had ever seen before. It was caused by the moon, which
suddenly rose behind the convent on Vesuvius; at first a small bright
line silvering all the clouds, and then a full orb which threw a blaze
of light across the sea, through which the vessels passed and re-passed
in a most beautiful manner. At the same time the lava, of a different
hue, spread its warm tint upon all the objects near it, and threw a
red line across the bay, directly parallel to the reflection of the
moon’s rays. It was one of those scenes which one dwells upon with
regret, because one feels the impossibility of retaining the impression
it affords. It remains in the memory, but then all its outlines and
its colours are so faintly touched, that the beauty of the spectacle
fades away with the landscape; which, when covered by the clouds of the
night, and veiled in darkness, can never be revived by the pencil, the
pen, or by any recourse to the traces it has left upon the mind.”

In the autumn of 1793 Clarke received from Lord Berwick a proposal that
he should accompany him to Egypt and the Holy Land, with which our
traveller, whose secret wishes had long pointed that way, immediately
closed. While preparations were making for the journey, Lord Berwick
suddenly recollected that some living, to which he was to present his
brother, might fall vacant during his absence, and be lost to his
family. He determined, therefore, on sending an express to England; and
when he had hired his courier, Clarke, who perhaps felt the want of
violent exercise, offered to accompany the man, that no time might be
lost. He accordingly set out for England, and having remained two or
three days in London to execute the commission with which he had been
intrusted, he hurried down to Shropshire, and arranged the business
which had brought him to England. This being accomplished, he returned
to London, where, to his infinite surprise and mortification, he found
a letter from Lord Berwick, informing him that the expedition to Egypt
had been postponed or abandoned. His engagement with this nobleman,
however, had not yet expired. He therefore, after a short stay in
England, hastened back to Italy, from whence he finally returned in the
summer of 1794.

Clarke now spent some time with his mother and family at Uckfield, and
in the autumn of the same year undertook, at the recommendation of the
Bishop of St. Asaph, the care of Sir Thomas Mostyn, a youth of about
seventeen. This engagement continued about a year, during which period
he resided with his pupil in Wales, where he became known to Pennant,
with whom he afterward maintained a correspondence. When this connexion
had, from some unexplained causes, ceased to exist, our traveller
undertook a small periodical work called “Le Rêveur,” which, when
twenty-nine numbers had been published without success, was judiciously
discontinued, and sunk so completely into oblivion that not a single
copy, it is believed, could now be found.

In the autumn of 1796 Clarke entered into an engagement with the family
of Lord Uxbridge, which, under whatever auspices begun, was highly
beneficial to himself and satisfactory to his employers. The youth
first placed under his care, delicate and feeble in constitution,
soon fell a prey to disease; but the next youngest son of the family,
the honourable Berkeley Paget, succeeded his brother; and with him,
in the summer and autumn of 1797, our traveller made the tour of
Scotland. This was in every respect an agreeable and fortunate journey
for our traveller, who not only enjoyed the scenery, wild, varied,
and beautiful, which the north of England and many parts of Scotland
afford, but secured in his pupil a powerful friend, who, so long as our
traveller lived, promoted his interests, and when his life had closed,
continued the same benevolent regard to his family.

On the termination of his connexion with Mr. Paget, who was now sent
to Oxford, Clarke retired to Uckfield, where, for a time, he seemed
entirely immersed in the pleasures of field-sports. His devotion
to this species of amusement, however, was destined to be of short
duration. A young gentleman of Sussex, whose education had been very
much neglected, succeeded about this time to a considerable estate,
upon which he intimated his desire of placing himself for three
years under the guidance and instruction of our traveller, first at
Cambridge, and afterward during a long and extensive tour upon the
Continent. The pecuniary part of the proposal was very liberal, says
Mr. Otter, and the plan was entered upon without delay. The traveller
and his pupil remained a whole year at Cambridge, during which the
former, who fully understood the advantages of knowledge, and had been
hitherto prevented by his wandering life from pursuing any regular
course of study, profited quite as much as the latter.

The preliminary portion of their studies being over, Clarke and his
pupil began to prepare for their travels. Two other individuals were
at first associated with them, Professor Malthus, author of the
celebrated treatise on population, and the Rev. Mr. Otter, afterward
the biographer of our traveller. The party set out from Cambridge on
the 20th May, 1799, and arrived at Hamburgh on the 25th. Here they
made but a short stay before they set out for Copenhagen, and from
thence, by way of Stockholm, across the whole of Sweden to Tornea, on
the Gulf of Bothnia. Malthus and Otter left them at the Wener Lake.
Clarke, with all the enthusiasm of a genuine traveller, could never
imagine he had carried his researches sufficiently far; but, having
reached the 66th degree of northern latitude, declared he would not
return until he should have snuffed the polar air. His pupil, Cripps,
seems to have shared largely in his locomotive propensity, and in the
courage which prompts to indulge it. They therefore proceeded towards
the polar regions together; but having reached Enontakis, in latitude
68° 30´ 30´´ north, our traveller, who had previously been seized by a
severe fit of illness, was constrained to abandon the polar expedition
and shape his course towards the south. Writing from Enontakis to his
mother, “We have found,” says he, “the cottage of a priest in this
remote corner of the world, and have been snug with him a few days.
Yesterday I launched a balloon eighteen feet in height, which I had
made to attract the natives. You may guess their astonishment when they
saw it rise from the earth.

“Is it not famous to be here within the frigid zone, more than two
degrees within the arctic, and nearer to the pole than the most
northern shores of Iceland? For a long time darkness has been a
stranger to us. The sun, as yet, passes not below the horizon, but he
dips his crimson visage behind a mountain to the north. This mountain
we ascended, and had the satisfaction to see him make his courtesy
without setting. At midnight the priest of this place lights his pipe
during three weeks in the year by means of a burning-glass from the
sun’s rays.”

Having, for the reason above stated, given up the design of visiting
the polar regions, they returned to Tornea, and thence proceeded
through Sweden and Norway; which latter country (probably for the same
reason which made Pope of the opinion of the last author he read) he
preferred for sublimity of scenery to Switzerland. They then entered
Russia, and arrived at Petersburg on the 26th of January, 1800. Clarke,
it is well known, entertained a very mean opinion of the Russians;
but, judging from the testimony of Bishop Heber--a calmer and more
dispassionate man--as well as from that of many other travellers, it
would appear that his judgment was neither rash nor ill founded. “We
have been here five days,” says he. “Our servants were taken from us
at the frontiers, and much difficulty had we with the Russian thieves
as we came along. Long accustomed to Swedish honesty it is difficult
for us to assume all at once a system of suspicion and caution: the
consequence of this is that they remove all the moveables out of their
way. I wish much to like the Russians, but those who govern them will
take care I never shall. This place, were it not for its magnificence,
would be insufferable. We silently mourn when we remember Sweden. As
for our harps there are no trees to hang them upon; nevertheless we sit
down by the waters of Babylon and weep. They open all the letters, and
therefore there is something for them to chew upon. More I dare not
add; perhaps your experience will supply the rest.”

To this, if we add his picture of the execrable despot who then
governed Russia, enough will have been said of his experience at
Petersburg. “It is impossible,” he writes, “to say what will be the end
of things here, or whether the emperor is more of a madman, a fool, a
knave, or a tyrant. If I were to relate the ravings, the follies, the
villanies, the cruelties of that detestable beast, I should never reach
the end of my letter. Certainly things cannot long go on as they do
now. The other day the soldiers by his order cudgelled a gentleman in
the street because the cock of his hat was not in a line with his nose.
He has sent the Prince of Condé’s army to the right-about, which is
hushed up, and it is to appear that they are ceded to Great Britain. He
refuses passports even to ambassadors for their couriers. One is not
safe a moment. It is not enough to act by rule, you must regulate your
features to the whims of a police officer. If you frown in the street
you will be taken up.”

From Petersburg they proceeded in sledges to Moscow, which, like
most oriental cities, seemed all splendour from a distant view,
but shrunk upon their entering it into a miserable collection of
hovels, interspersed with a few grotesque churches and tawdry
palaces. This place, which is too well known to require me to dwell
much upon its appearance, they quitted to proceed to the Crimea.
Arriving at Taganrog, on the Sea of Azov, Clarke amused himself
with swimming in the Don, the ancient Tanais, between Europe and
Asia, and in thinking of the vast extent of country over which his
good fortune had already carried him, and of the far more glorious
scenes--Palestine--Egypt--Greece--which yet lay in his route. “Do, for
God’s sake imagine,” says he in a letter to a friend, “what I must feel
in the prospect of treading the plains of Troy!--Tears of joy stream
from my eyes while I write.” To a person of such a frame of mind--and
no others should ever leave their firesides--travelling, next to the
performance of virtuous actions, affords the most exquisite pleasure
upon earth. The imagination, impregnated by a classical education with
glowing ideas of what certain scenes once were, invests them with
unearthly splendour, of which no experience can ever afterward divest
them.

Upon their arriving at Achmedshid in the Crimea, they remained some
time in the house of Professor Pallas, who entertained them in so
hospitable a manner that Clarke, who spoke of men as he found them,
could not forbear imparting to his friends at home the warm gratitude
of his heart. “It is with him we now live,” says he, “till the vessel
is ready to sail for Constantinople; and how can I express his kindness
to me? He has all the tenderness of a father to us both. Every thing
in his house he makes our own. He received me worn down with fatigue
and ill of a tertian fever. Mrs. Pallas nursed me, and he cured me, and
then loaded me with all sorts of presents; books, drawings, insects,
plants, minerals, &c. The advantage of conversing with such a man is
worth the whole journey from England, not considering the excellent
qualities of his heart. Here we are in quite an elegant English house;
and if you knew the comfort of lying down in a clean bed after passing
months without taking off your clothes in deserts and among savages,
you would know the comfort we feel. The vessel is at Kosloff, distant
forty miles; and when we leave the Crimea Mr. and Mrs. Pallas and their
daughter, who has been married since we were in the house to a general
officer, go with us to Kosloff; and will dine with us on board the day
we sail. They prepare all our provisions for the voyage.”

The whole of their stay in Russia was rendered so exceedingly
disagreeable--first by the savage tyranny of the emperor, and secondly
by the evil character of his subjects, which, as being everywhere felt,
was infinitely more annoying--that our traveller regarded himself among
a civilized and hospitable people when he reached Constantinople. In
fact, he found himself in a sort of English society which, congregating
together at the palace of the embassy, engaged in the same round of
amusements which would have occupied them in London. The time which
these agreeable occupations left him was employed in searching for
and examining Greek medals, and in viewing such curiosities as were
to be found in Constantinople; among other things the interior of
the seraglio, where no Frank, he says, had before set his foot. He
moreover found time to peruse many of the various publications called
forth by the Bryant controversy respecting the existence of Troy; and
so unsteady was his faith on this point, that, after dipping a little
into the subject, he began to imagine something like a new theory to
explain the manner in which we are required to believe Homer might
have invented the whole groundwork of the Iliad! However, upon shortly
afterward arriving on the spot, this flimsy vagary vanished. Jacob
Bryant and his followers were found to be the pettifogging skeptics
which they have always been considered by sensible men. “The Plain
of Troy now,” exclaims our traveller, “offers every fact you want;
there is nothing doubtful. No argument will stand an instant[3] in
opposition to the test of inquiry upon the spot; penetrating into
the mountains behind the Acropolis the proofs grow more numerous as
you advance, till at length the discussion becomes absurd, and the
nonsense of Bryantism so ridiculous that his warmest partisans would be
ashamed to acknowledge they had ever assented for an instant to such
contemptible blasphemy upon the most sacred records of history.”

[3] An intaglio purchased by Clarke at Constantinople is exceedingly
remarkable, as throwing light upon the original story of Æneas, before
it had been deformed by Virgil or Ovid. “There are poor Turks at
Constantinople, whose business it is to wash the mud of the common
sewers of the city, and the sand of the shore. These people found a
small onyx, with an antique intaglio of most excellent workmanship,
representing Æneas flying from the city, leading his boy by the hand,
and bearing on his shoulders (who do you suppose?)--not his father--for
in that case the subject might have been borrowed from Virgil or
Ovid--but--his wife, with the Penates in her lap; and so wonderfully
wrought that these three figures are brought into a gem of the smallest
size, and wings are added to the feet of Æneas,

    ‘Pedibus timor addidit alas!’

to express by symbols of the most explicit nature the story and the
situation of the hero. Thus it is proved that a tradition, founded
neither on the works of Homer nor the Greek historians (and perhaps
unknown to Virgil and the Roman poets, who always borrowed their
stories from such records as were afforded by the works of ancient
artists), existed among the ancients in the remotest periods,
respecting the war of Troy. The authenticity of this invaluable
little relic, the light it strews on ancient history, its beauty, and
the remarkable coincidence of the spot on which it was found, with
the locality of the subject it illustrates, interested so much the
late Swedish minister, Mr. Heidensham, and other antiquarians of the
first talents in this part of the world, that I have given it a very
considerable part of this letter, hoping it will not be indifferent to
you.”

From the Troad Clarke proceeded to Rhodes, the Gulf of Glaucus, on the
coast of Asia Minor, and thence by sea to Egypt, where the English
fleet was then lying in Aboukir Bay. He did not, however, see much of
Egypt on this occasion, for the country was still in the possession
of the French; and therefore, after a short visit to Rosetta, he
sailed for Cyprus, and on returning from this voyage proceeded in the
Romulus to Palestine. Here he visited Jerusalem, Nazareth, Bethlehem,
and the Lake of Genesareth; near which he enjoyed an opportunity of
conversing with a party of Druses. Almost every traveller in Syria has
given us some new particulars respecting this curious people. “They
are,” says Clarke, “the most extraordinary people on earth; singular
in the simplicity of their lives by their strict integrity and virtue.
They only eat what they earn by their own labour, and preserve at
this moment the superstitions brought by the Israelites out of Egypt.
What will be your surprise to learn that every Thursday they elevate
the molten calf, before which they prostrate themselves, and having
paid their adoration, each man selects among the women present the
wife he likes best, with whom the ceremony ends. The calf is of gold,
silver, or bronze. This is exactly that worship at which Moses was so
incensed in descending from Mount Sinai. The cow was the Venus of the
Egyptians, and of course the calf a personification of animal desire;
a Cupid before which the sacrifices so offensive to Moses were held.
For it is related they set up a molten calf, which Aaron had made from
the earrings of the Israelite women; before which similar sacrifices
were made. And certainly the Druses on Mount Lebanon are a detachment
of the posterity of those Israelites who are so often represented in
Scripture as deserters from the true faith, falling back into the old
superstitions and pagan worship of the country from whence they came.
I could not visit Mount Lebanon; but I took every method necessary to
ascertain the truth of this relation; and I send it you as one of the
highest antiquities and most curious relics of remote ages which has
yet been found upon earth.”

His stay in Palestine was exceedingly short, just sufficient to enable
him to say he had looked at it. He then returned to Aboukir Bay, where
his brother was commander of an English ship; which now, on the 6th of
August, 1801, swarmed with French prisoners like a beehive. When the
road to Cairo was rendered practicable by the defeat of the French,
our traveller proceeded to that city, where the most interesting
objects existing were the beautiful young women who had been torn by
the French soldiers from the harems of the bey; and then, when they
evacuated the country, deserted and abandoned to their fate. Here
he procured a complete copy of the “Arabian Nights,” which, with
many other works that were so many sealed books to him, gave rise to
much unavailing regret that he had bestowed little or no attention
on the Arabic language. The Pyramids he of course admired. “Without
hyperbole,” says he, “they are immense mountains; and when clouds cast
shadows over their white sides they are seen passing as upon the summit
of the Alps.” From the pinnacle of the loftiest he dated one of his
letters to England, all of which are filled with lively dashing gossip,
accompanied with rash, headlong, unphilosophical decisions, which the
reflections of a moment, perhaps, might have served to dissipate. The
news of the capitulation of Alexandria induced him to hurry back to
the coast. He found the French troops still in the city, but preparing
to embark with all speed. Great disputes, he says, had already arisen
between General Hutchinson and Menou respecting the antiquities and
collections of natural history which had been made by the French; the
former claiming them as public, and the latter refusing them as private
property. The part performed by Clarke himself in this affair he shall
relate in his own words:--“When I arrived in the British camp, General
Hutchinson informed me that he had already stipulated for the stone in
question (the Rosetta marble), and asked me whether I thought the other
literary treasures were sufficiently national to be included in his
demands. You may be sure I urged all the arguments I could muster to
justify the proceeding; and it is clear they are not private property.
General Hutchinson sent me to Menou, and charged me to discover
what national property of that kind was in the hands of the French.
Hamilton, Lord Elgin’s secretary, had gone the same morning about an
hour before with Colonel Turner of the Antiquarian Society about the
Hieroglyphic Table. I showed my pass at the gates, and was admitted.
The streets and public places were filled with the French troops, in
desperate bad-humour. Our proposals were made known, and backed with a
menace from the British general that he would break the capitulation
if the proposals were not acceded to. The whole corps of sçavans and
engineers beset Menou, and the poor old fellow, what with us and them,
was completely hunted. We have been now at this work since Thursday
the 11th, and I believe have succeeded. We found much more in their
possession than was suspected or imagined. Pointers would not range
better for game than we have done for statues, sarcophagi, maps, MSS.,
drawings, plans, charts, botany, stuffed birds, animals, dried fishes,
&c. Savigny, who has been years in forming the beautiful collection
of natural history for the republic, is in despair. Therefore we
represented to General Hutchinson, that it would be the best plan to
send him to England also, as the most proper person to take care of the
collection, and to publish its description if necessary.”

No man, I suppose, who has passed beyond the frontiers of his own
country, can fail to have experienced frequent depressions of spirit,
during which he has probably repented him of his wandering habits.
But Clarke was like a weathercock, now pointing to the east, now to
the west. In the island of Zea, off the promontory of Sunium, he
repented heartily of having undertaken the voyage to Greece. “Danger,
fatigue, disease, filth, treachery, thirst, hunger, storms, rocks,
assassins,--these,” he exclaims, “are the realities which a traveller
in Greece meets with!” Anon, at Athens, he writes, “We have been here
three days; we sailed into the port of the Piræus after sunset on the
28th. The little voyage from Cape Sunium to Athens is one of the most
interesting I ever made. The height of the mountains brings the most
distant objects into the view, and you are surrounded by beauty and
grandeur. The sailors and pilots still give to every thing its ancient
name, with only a little difference in the pronunciation. They show you
as you sail along, Ægina and Salamis, Mount Hymettus and Athens, and
Megara, and the mountains of Corinth. The picture is the same as it was
in the earliest ages of Greece. The Acropolis rises to view as if it
were in its most perfect state: the temples and buildings seem entire;
for the eye, in the Saronic Gulf, does not distinguish the injuries
which the buildings have suffered, and nature, of course, is the same
now as she was in the days of Themistocles. I cannot tell you what
sensations I felt: the successions were so rapid I knew not whether to
laugh or to cry,--sometimes I did both.

“Our happiness is complete, we have forgotten all our disasters, and I
have half a mind to blot out all I have written in the first part of
this letter. We are in the most comfortable house imaginable, with a
good widow and her daughter. You do not know Lusieri. He was my friend
in Italy many years ago. Think what a joy to find him here, presiding
over the troop of artists, architects, sculptors, and excavators that
Lord Elgin has sent here to work for him. He is the most celebrated
artist at present in the world. Pericles would have deified him. He
attends us everywhere, and Pausanias himself would not have made a
better cicerone.

“Athens exceeds all that ever has been written or painted from it.
I know not how to give an idea of it; because, having never seen
any thing like it, I must become more familiar with so much majesty
before I can describe it. I am no longer to lament the voyage I lost
with Lord Berwick; because it is exactly that which a man should see
_last_ in his travels. It is even with joy I consider it is perhaps
the end of all my admiration. We are lucky in the time of our being
here. The popularity of the English name gives us access to many things
which strangers before were prohibited from visiting, and the great
excavations that are going on discover daily some hidden treasures.
Rome is almost as insignificant in comparison with Athens as London
with Rome; and one regrets the consciousness that no probable union of
circumstances will ever again carry the effects of human labour to the
degree of perfection they have attained here.”

No one after this will accuse Clarke of being deficient in enthusiasm;
but this is not all. On reaching the summit of Parnassus, he
bursts forth into expressions of admiration, which, if they were
not justified by the sublime beauty of the scenes themselves,
or by the historical glory with which they must be eternally
associated, would be absurd. “It is necessary to forget all that
has preceded--all the travels of my life--all I ever imagined--all
I ever saw! Asia--Egypt--the Isles--Italy--the Alps--whatever you
will! Greece surpasses all! Stupendous in its ruins! Awful in its
mountains!--captivating in its vales--bewitching in its climate.
Nothing ever equalled it--no pen can describe it--no pencil can portray
it!

“I know not when we shall get to Constantinople. We are as yet only
three days’ distance from Athens; and here we sit on the top of
Parnassus, in a little sty, full of smoke, after wandering for a
fortnight in Attica, Bœotia, and Phocis. We have been in every spot
celebrated in ancient story--in fields of slaughter, and in groves of
song. I shall grow old in telling you the wonders of this country.
Marathon, Thebes, Platæa, Leuctra, Thespia, Mount Helicon, the grove
of the Muses, the cave of Trophonius, Cheronea, Orchomene, Delphi, the
Castalian fountain, Parnassus; we have paid our vows in all! But what
is most remarkable, in Greece there is hardly a spot which hath been
particularly dignified that is not also adorned by the most singular
beauties of nature. Independently of its history, each particular
object is interesting.”

From Athens they proceeded by land to Constantinople through ancient
Thrace, by a route partly trodden by Pococke. After a short stay at
this city, they directed their course homewards through Roumelia,
Austria, Germany, and France, and arrived in England after an absence
of upwards of three years. Cripps now returned for a short period
to his family, and Clarke, who had by this time acquired an immense
reputation, took up his residence at Cambridge, where, with very
few intervals of absence, he remained nearly twenty years. He was
very soon rejoined by his pupil, the completing of whose education,
together with the arranging of his curiosities and antiquities, and the
composition of his travels, fully occupied his leisure for some time.
A statue of Ceres which our traveller had dug up, and sent home from
Greece, was presented, on his return, to the university; in consequence
of which the degree of LL.D. was conferred upon Clarke, and that of
M.A. upon his companion.

In 1805 Dr. Clarke published a “Dissertation on the Sarcophagus in the
British Museum,” which, though necessarily neglected by the public,
is said to have given considerable satisfaction to the learned, and
procured for its author many valuable acquaintances. Another and a
very different subject employed his mind throughout a great part of
the following year. This was no less a thing than matrimony; which,
as soon as the idea got footing in his brain, occupied his ardent
imagination to the exclusion of every thing else. His suit, however,
was successful. The lady of his choice became his wife; and to increase
this piece of good fortune, two livings, for he had entered into
orders, were presented him by his friends, the one shortly before,
and the other immediately after his marriage. He now occupied himself
with lectures on mineralogy, which were delivered at the university to
crowded audiences, and were a source of considerable profit. This, as
he expected, led to his appointment as professor of mineralogy; and
“thus,” says Mr. Otter, “were his most sanguine wishes crowned with
success; and thus were his spirit and perseverance rewarded with one of
the rarest and highest honours which the university could bestow.”

Dr. Clarke now began to think of turning the treasures he had picked up
in his travels to account; he sold his MSS. to the Bodleian Library at
Oxford for 1000_l._, and his Greek coins to Mr. Payne Knight for 100
guineas. The publication of his travels next followed, and produced him
a clear sum of 6595_l._ In the year 1814 his old passion for travelling
revived, and an expedition was projected into the Grecian Archipelago
for the purpose of collecting antiquities, manuscripts, &c. But he was
overruled by his friend, who probably believed that his constitution
was now unequal to the fatigue which would be the inevitable attendant
on such a mission. To this scheme he would appear to have been urged by
the extravagant manner in which he had for some time lived; but a more
practicable, or at least a more certain mode of recovering from the
effects of this false step presented itself; which was no other than
reducing his expenses, and living within his income. This he had the
courage to undertake and execute; and from that day forward seems to
have led the life of a sensible man. His passion now took a new turn,
and he was wholly absorbed by chymistry. In September, 1816, he wrote
as follows to a friend: “I sacrificed the whole month of August to
chymistry. Oh how I did work! It was delightful play to me, and I stuck
to it day and night. At last, having blown off both my eyebrows and
eyelashes, and nearly blown out both my eyes, I ended with a bang that
shook all the houses round my lecture-room. The Cambridge paper has
told you the result of all this alchymy, for I have actually decomposed
the earths, and obtained them in a metallic form.”

I adopt from Mr. Otter the following account of Clarke’s death. It was
hastened, if not entirely caused, by continued high-wrought mental
excitement. He was carried to town for advice by Sir William and Lady
Rush, where he was attended by Sir Astley Cooper, Dr. Bailey, and Dr.
Scudamore, but their efforts to save him were in vain; the rest of
his life, about a fortnight, over which a veil will soon be drawn,
was like a feverish dream after a day of strong excitement, when the
same ideas chase each other through the mind in a perpetual round,
and baffle every attempt to banish them. Nothing seemed to occupy his
attention but the syllabus of his lectures, and the details of the
operations he had just finished; nor could there exist to his friends
a stronger proof that all control over his mind was gone, and that the
ascendency of such thoughts at a season when the devotion so natural
to him, and of late so strikingly exhibited under circumstances far
less trying, would, in a sounder state, have been the prime, if not
the only, mover of his soul. One lucid interval there was, in which,
to judge from the subject and the manner of his conversation, he had
the command of his thoughts, as well as a sense of his danger; for in
the presence of Lieut. Chappel and Mr. Cripps, he pronounced a very
pathetic eulogium on Mrs. Clarke, and recommended her earnestly to the
care of those about him; but when the currents of his thoughts seemed
running fast towards those pious contemplations on which they would
naturally have rested, his mind suddenly relapsed into the power of its
former occupants, from which it never more was free. At times, indeed,
gleams of his former kindness and intelligence would mingle with the
wildness of his delirium, in a manner the most striking and affecting;
and then, even his incoherences, to use his own thoughts respecting
another person who had finished his race shortly before him, was as
the wreck of some beautiful decayed structure, when all its goodly
ornaments and stately pillars fall in promiscuous ruin. He died on
Saturday, the 9th of March, and was buried in Jesus College chapel on
the 18th of the same month.



FRANCOIS LE VAILLANT.

Born 1753.--Died 1824.


In commencing the life of this traveller I experience some apprehension
that the interest of the narrative may suffer in my hands; since his
exploits, as Sallust observes of those of the Athenians, appear to
acquire much of their importance from the peculiar eloquence with which
they are described. The style of Le Vaillant, though regarded by many
as declamatory and negligent, is in fact so graceful, natural, and full
of vivacity,--his sentiments are so warm,--his ideas, whether right or
wrong, so peculiarly his own, that, whether he desires to interest you
in the fate of his friends or of his cattle, of his collections or of
his cocks and hens, the result is invariably the same: he irresistibly
inspires you with feelings like his own, and for the moment compels
you, in spite of yourself, to adopt his views and opinions. I cannot,
however, flatter myself with the hope of equal success. Things really
trifling in themselves might, I am afraid, continue to appear so
when dressed in my plain style; and it therefore only remains for me
to select, to the best of my judgment, such actions and events as
really deserve to be remembered, and must always, with whatever degree
of simplicity they may be described, command a certain degree of
attention. The scene of this writer’s adventures had in many instances
all the charm of novelty when his travels first appeared. No European
had preceded him in his route. He could form no conjecture respecting
the nature of the objects with which the morrow was to bring him
acquainted, and at every step experienced the

    Novos decerpere flores.

In all the pleasures to be derived from pursuing an untrodden path,
from penetrating into an unknown world; for such then was Africa,
and such, in a great measure, it still continues--from beholding new
species of birds and animals which his enthusiasm and perseverance
were about to make known to mankind;--in all these pleasures, I say,
he skilfully makes his readers his associates, and thus, apparently
without effort, accomplishes the intention of the most consummate
rhetorical art, the object of which is only to lead the imagination
captive by the allurements of pleasure, or to urge it along by the keen
sting of curiosity.

François le Vaillant was born in 1753, at Paramaribo, in Dutch Guiana,
where his father, a rich merchant, originally from Metz, filled the
office of consul. Even while a child the tastes and habits of his
parents inspired him with a partiality for a wandering life, and for
collections of objects of natural history, which quickly generated
another passion, the passion for hunting; and this amusement,
unphilosophical as it may seem, not only occupied his boyish days, in
which man is cruel from thoughtlessness, but his riper and declining
years, when suffering and calamity might have taught him to respect the
lives even of the inferior animals.

His father, actuated by the love of science, or by the vanity of
forming a collection, employed much of the leisure which he enjoyed in
travelling through the less frequented parts of the colony, accompanied
by his wife and son; and to this circumstance may be attributed Le
Vaillant’s twofold passion for travelling and for natural history.
The desire of possessing a cabinet of his own soon arose. Birds and
beasts being as yet beyond his reach, he commenced with caterpillars,
butterflies, and other insects; but his ambition increasing with his
acquisitions, he at length armed himself with the Indian sarbacan and
bow, and before he had reached his tenth year had slain innumerable
birds.

In 1763 he proceeded with his parents to Europe, where every object
which presented itself to his eye was new. They first landed in
Holland, where the phlegmatic Dutchmen, who, like the Chinese, pique
themselves upon being “slow and sure,” viewed with astonishment the
pert and forward urchin, who, at ten years of age, began to babble of
science, cabinets, and collections. From Holland, however, they soon
removed to the more congenial soil of France. Here precocity, which
too frequently generates hopes never destined to be fulfilled, has
always been viewed with more complacency than in any other country in
Europe; and accordingly our youthful traveller, whose vanity amply
made up for his want of knowledge, was flattered and encouraged to his
heart’s content. In this particular instance the flowers were succeeded
by fruit. Being capable of existing in solitude, which is difficult
in youth, but yet absolutely necessary to the acquisition of studious
habits, he yielded to his natural inclination for the chase, and spent
whole weeks in the forests of Lorrain and Germany, intently studying
the manners of animals and birds. His education, meanwhile, was not
in other respects neglected; but the books which occupied him most
agreeably were voyages and travels, as his mind seems already to have
turned towards that point from which he was to derive his fame.

In the course of the year 1777 some fortunate circumstance conducted
him to Paris, where the collections and cabinets of learned and
scientific men at first afforded him extraordinary delight; but
ended, he says, by inspiring him with contempt, the richness of the
treasures which they contained being equalled only by the confusion
and absurdity observable in their arrangement. He discovered likewise
in the current works on natural history, even in those of Buffon, so
much exaggeration, and so many errors, notwithstanding the masterly
eloquence with which those errors are clothed, that, convinced that no
degree of genius could preserve from delusion the man who describes
nature at second-hand, he at length determined to become a traveller
before he became a natural historian, that he might observe in their
native woods and deserts the animals which he wished to make known to
the world. With these views, without communicating his plans to any
person, he departed from Paris on the 17th of July, 1780, and proceeded
to Holland.

Having visited the principal cities of the republic, and admired at
Amsterdam the superb collection and aviary of M. Temminck and others,
he obtained permission to proceed to the Cape of Good Hope in one
of the ships of the Dutch East India Company, and set sail for that
country on the 3d of December, 1780, the day before England declared
war against the Dutch. Had this event taken place twenty-four hours
sooner, the company, he observes, would not have allowed them to
depart; in which case all his projects might have been frustrated.
During the voyage the ship was cannonaded during several hours by a
small English privateer, while the Dutch captain, rendered incapable
of reflection by terror, never returned a single shot; and although
exceedingly superior in men and metal to the enemy, would undoubtedly
have suffered himself to be taken prisoner, had not another Dutch
ship-of-war hove in sight, and put to flight the audacious Englishman.
This was the only incident worthy of mention which occurred to
dissipate the _ennui_ of their long voyage; and they arrived at Cape
Town three months and ten days after their departure from the Texel.

Le Vaillant, who had taken care to provide himself previous to his
departure from Amsterdam with numerous letters of recommendation,
was received with remarkable attention by several individuals of
distinction at the Cape. His design of exploring the remoter districts
of the colony and the adjacent countries fortunately excited no
jealousy or suspicion in their minds, and therefore, instead of
labouring, as petty colonial governments too frequently do, to obstruct
the interests of science, they evinced a disposition to favour the
views of the traveller, entertained him with profuse hospitality during
the many months which the preparations for his journey required him to
remain among them, and, which to him was still more important, exerted
their influence and authority to facilitate his movements towards the
countries of the interior. So agreeable a reception could not, of
course, fail to produce its effect upon the mind of the traveller.
It quite melted away his affected misanthropy. He found himself in
good-humour with mankind, and, as if benevolence and philanthropy were
the peculiar attributes of the natives of Holland, observes, that this
species of politeness was what he had reckoned upon, for that he knew
he had to deal with Dutchmen!

His remarks upon Cape Town, now no longer in the possession of the
Dutch, are sufficiently curious, as they enable us to contrast its
appearance fifty years ago with that which it at present wears under
English government. Though a large proportion of the houses were
spacious and handsome, the streets, in spite of their great breadth,
appeared disagreeable even to a Frenchman, on account of the badness of
the pavement, and the stench which everywhere offended the nostrils,
arising from the heads, feet, and intestines of slaughtered animals
which the butchers of the company were in the habit of casting forth
in heaps before their doors, and which, with more than Ottomite
negligence, the authorities allowed to putrefy upon the spot. The
effluvia proceeding from these abominations Le Vaillant with reason
regarded as one of the active causes of those epidemics which usually
prevailed in the city during those seasons in which the violent
south-east wind had not blown. While this cleansing wind was performing
its operations, the streets were almost rendered impassable. The
hurricane, precipitating from the mountains dense masses of vapour,
raged for several days with indescribable impetuosity, overthrowing
every thing in its course, and filling all places, even to the closets,
trunks, and drawers, with dust. Trees and plants were frequently torn
up by the roots; and well-planted gardens were rendered in the course
of twenty-four hours as bare and naked as a desert.

Le Vaillant found the native colonists of the Cape handsome and well
formed, particularly the women; but, although they studied with
perseverance the important science of dress, they were still very far,
in his opinion, from the ease and elegance of the ladies of France;
a result which he in a great measure attributes to the practice of
employing slaves as wet-nurses, and of otherwise living with them in
habits of great familiarity. Slavery under any form is a thing to be
abhorred; but our traveller here seems to exaggerate its deformities.
Gracefulness, taste, decorum, which should, perhaps, be numbered among
the virtues in a well-regulated state, are things with which slavery
is by no means incompatible. The most polished nation of antiquity,
which every person but a Frenchman will allow to have at least equalled
the Parisians in refinement, constantly employed domestic slaves, and
lived with them on terms of considerable familiarity. But ignorance
and refinement are necessarily repugnant to each other; and in general
the Dutch inhabitants of the Cape were, according to Le Vaillant,
remarkable for their ignorance, which, without the aid of slavery,
would sufficiently account for the absence of graceful and elegant
manners.

Strangers, however, arriving at the Cape were almost invariably
received with great hospitality, more particularly the English, who
were admired for their generosity, as much as the French, for their
sordid avarice and egotism, were despised and hated. Le Vaillant, in
fact, observes that he has frequently heard colonists declare they
would prefer being conquered by the English to their owing their
safety to a nation whom they regarded with such aversion as the
French; and the French troops which shortly afterward arrived in the
colony, spreading around them vice and profligacy like a pestilence,
debauching the wives and daughters of those who hospitably received
them into their houses, and sowing dissension and eternal regrets in
the bosoms of a hundred families, fully justified this deep-rooted
hatred. The great number of persons in France who from selfish motives
remain unmarried, and speculate upon the gratification of their feeble
passions at the expense of the weak-minded and the miserable, must
always render the nation an object of aversion among a remote people
like the Dutch colonists of the Cape, whose ignorant simplicity
necessarily exposes them to the shame of suffering by such immorality.

But if the English were so much the objects of admiration to the
people, their numerous and powerful fleets, which have for centuries
exercised an undisputed omnipotence on the ocean, rendered them no less
terrible to the authorities, who, to secure the company’s vessels from
their dreaded cannon, commanded them to be removed from Table Bay to
that of Saldanha, where, it was hoped, their chances of escape would be
more numerous. On board of one of these our traveller embarked on the
10th of May, and next morning arrived safely in the Bay of Saldanha,
happy that the dreaded English flag had not encountered them on their
passage.

In the waters of this bay, which was then but seldom visited, great
numbers of whales were continually seen sporting about; and Le
Vaillant, whose hunting propensities were immediately awakened by the
sight of a wild animal, frequently amused himself with firing at this
new species of game. He could never perceive, however, that his balls
produced the least effect upon them. But in Mutton Island, situated
in the entrance of the bay, his fowlingpiece was more fortunate; for,
from the prodigious number of rabbits with which that isle abounded, he
found it easy on all occasions to kill as many as he pleased. In fact,
this little isle became the warren of the whole fleet.

Various species of game abounded in the neighbourhood, among which
the principal were the partridge and the hare, and that small kind of
gazelle denominated steen-bock by the colonists. The panther, too,
following in the track of his prey, was found in great numbers in
this district. A few days after his arrival Le Vaillant was invited
by the commandant to join him in a hunting-party. Their chase was
unsuccessful: they killed nothing. Towards the close of the day, as if
fate had decreed that his courage should at once be put to the proof,
Le Vaillant found himself separated from his companion; and continuing
as he proceeded to fire at intervals, in the hope of arousing the game,
he started a small gazelle, which his dog immediately pursued. The
gazelle was quickly out of sight, but the dog, which still seemed to be
upon his track, stopped on the skirts of a large thicket, and began to
bark. Le Vaillant, who had now no doubt that the game had taken refuge
there, hastened to the spot with all the eagerness of a sportsman.
His presence encouraged the dog, and he every moment expected to see
the gazelle appear; but at length, growing impatient, he entered
into the thicket, beating the bushes aside with his fowlingpiece.
It is difficult, however, to describe the terror and confusion he
experienced when, instead of a timid and feeble gazelle, he saw before
him a tremendous panther, whose glaring eyes were fixed upon him, while
its outstretched neck, gaping jaws, and low, hollow growl seemed to
announce its intention of springing. He regarded himself as lost. But
the calm courage of his dog saved his life. It kept the animal at bay,
hesitating between rage and fear, until the traveller had retreated out
of the thicket. He then made towards the house of the commandant with
all possible speed, frequently looking behind him as he ran.

Another kind of terror shortly after seized upon him at sea. He was
sitting at supper with the captain and the other officers, when
a sudden strange motion was observed in the ship. Every person
immediately ran on deck. The whole crew were alarmed. Some imagined
they had run upon their anchors, and were beating against the rocks;
others accounted for the shock in a different manner; but, perceiving
from the position of the other ships that they were still exactly where
they had been before, no one could conjecture the cause of what had
happened, and their alarm was redoubled. Presently, however, upon more
careful observation, a whale was discovered entangled by the tail,
between the ship’s cables, and making furious efforts to disengage
itself. This was the cause of the singular motion they had felt. All
hands now rushed with harpoons into the boat; but the obscurity of the
night retarding their movements, the whale, just as they were ready to
attack it, succeeded in disentangling its tail, and escaped.

In the entrance to Saldanha Bay there is a second small island, to
which the colonists have given the name of the Marmotte. Upon this
sequestered spot the captain of a Danish vessel, as our traveller
had learned from tradition, having been long detained in the bay
by contrary winds, had died there, and been buried by his crew. Le
Vaillant now conceived the desire of visiting his grave. In sailing
by this lonely rock, in the passage to and from Mutton Island, he
had invariably been struck by a dull but startling sound, proceeding
from the isle. He mentioned the circumstance to the captain. The
good-natured navigator, anxious to oblige his guest, and perhaps
himself desirous of beholding the Dane’s grave, replied, that if his
wishes pointed that way they should immediately be gratified.

Next morning, accordingly, they proceeded towards the island. In
proportion as they advanced, the noise, increasing in loudness, more
and more excited their curiosity; and the sound of the waves, which
broke with great violence against the rocks, contributed not a little
to swell the deep murmur, the cause of which no one could conjecture.
They landed at length amid spray and foam, and, clambering up the
cliffs, succeeded with much difficulty in reaching the summit. Here
they beheld a sight such, in the opinion of our traveller, as no mortal
ever beheld before. There arose in a moment from the surface of the
earth an impenetrable cloud, which formed, at the height of forty
feet above their heads, a prodigious canopy, or rather sky, of birds
of every kind and colour. “Cormorants, sea-swallows, pelicans,--in
one word,” says he, “all the winged creatures of Southern Africa were
collected, I verily believe, in that spot. The screams of so enormous
a multitude of birds mingling together formed an infernal species of
music, which seemed to rend the ear with its piercing notes.

“The alarm,” he adds, “was so much the greater, among these innumerable
legions of birds, in that it was the females with whom we had
principally to deal, it being the season of nesting. They had therefore
their nests, their eggs, their young ones to defend, and were as fierce
as so many harpies. They deafened us with their cries. They stooped
upon the wing, and in darting past us, brushed our faces. It was in
vain that we fired our pieces; nothing could frighten away this living
cloud. We could scarcely take a single step without crushing some eggs
or young birds: the earth was covered by them.”

They found the caverns and hollows of the rocks inhabited by seals
and sea-lions, of the latter of which they killed one specimen of
enormous size. The various creeks of the island afforded a retreat to
the manchot, a species of penguin, two feet in height, the wings of
which, being entirely devoid of feathers, are only used in swimming. On
land they hang down by the side of the body in a negligent manner, and
communicate to the appearance and air of the bird something peculiarly
sinister and funereal. These dismal-looking birds crowded every part
of the island, but were nowhere so numerous as about the Dane’s tomb,
around which they clustered as if to defend it from violation, and with
their startling, melancholy cry, which mingled with the roar of the
seal and the sea-lion, gave an air of sadness to the scene which deeply
affected the soul. In itself the tomb was rude and simple,--a single
block of stone, without name or inscription.

During the whole of his stay on this part of the coast Le Vaillant
was actively employed in adding to his collection, which, with his
money, clothes, and papers, continued on board the Middleburg, the
principal ship on the station. He had now been three months in this
neighbourhood, which he had traversed in every direction. He still
continued, however, to roam about with his dog and gun in search of
birds and animals; but one day, on approaching the shore, the roaring
of cannon struck his ear. He at first supposed it might be some _fête_
given on board the ships, and hastened his march as much as possible,
in the hope of sharing in the rejoicings. Upon his reaching the downs
overlooking the bay, a very different spectacle presented itself. The
Middleburg had just been blown up, and its burning fragments still
filled the air, or lay widely scattered upon the sea! Here, then, was
the end of all his hopes; for not only the results of his labours, but
his fortune, the basis upon which all his projects were founded, was
now destroyed.

The cause of this calamity was soon discovered. The English fleet,
having obtained intelligence of the retreat of the Dutch, had burst
upon them so suddenly, that the terrified commanders had all, with the
exception of Vangenep, the commander of the Middleburg, been taken
unawares, and prevented from executing the orders they had received,
rather to run aground, sink, or blow up their ships, than suffer
them to fall into the hands of the enemy. Instead of this, they all
abandoned their vessels at the first appearance of the English, the
sailors, notwithstanding their apprehensions of the enemy, carrying
away with them every thing they could bring on shore, though the desire
to escape beyond reach of the English cannon quickly compelled them
to cast their burdens on the ground. Everywhere the roads and paths
were crowded with fugitives, and covered with the plunder which they
had abandoned on the way. Among the rest, an English prisoner was
flying from the shore. Le Vaillant met him, and having, as well as he
could, questioned him in English respecting the horrible catastrophe,
was expecting an answer, when a cannon-ball carried off his head, and
the answer with it. A large dog, which was running about wild and
trembling, apparently in search of his master, was next moment killed
by another ball; and Le Vaillant, apprehensive that the third might
reach himself, immediately fled over the downs, and ensconced himself
behind an eminence.

His position at this moment, it must be confessed, was sufficiently
calamitous. To repair to the Cape, there to petition among a crowd of
adventurers and unfortunates for pecuniary aid, was a step he could
ill brook; yet, unless he submitted to this humiliation, what must
be his fate? His family, his friends, his adopted country were two
thousand leagues distant. His whole resources now consisted in his
fowlingpiece, the clothes he then wore, and ten ducats. His misfortunes
presented themselves to his mind in all their horrors, and he burst
into tears,--a trait of weakness for which he might have pleaded the
example of Homer’s and Virgil’s poetical heroes. An honest colonist,
however, to whose house he repaired in this extremity, received him
with a frank hospitality, which in some degree dissipated his chagrin;
and he next day returned, though not without melancholy, to the first
elements of his collection.

His misfortunes were soon known at the Cape, and in a few days after
this occurrence he was again placed, by the friendship of M. Boers,
the fiscal, in a condition to act as if nothing had happened. He
therefore directed his attention to the preparations required by his
projected journey into the interior; and these, from the style in
which he designed to travel, were numerous and considerable. He caused
to be constructed two large four-wheeled wagons, covered above with
double canvass, in one of which were placed five large packing-cases,
which exactly filled the bottom of the vehicle, and could be opened
without being removed. Over these was spread a mattress, on which he
might occasionally sleep; and on this mattress, which during the day
was rolled up in the back of the wagon, he placed the cabinet fitted
up with drawers, in which he intended to preserve his insects. The
other cases were filled with powder, lead for casting balls, tobacco,
hardware, brandy, and toys. He had sixteen fowlingpieces, one of which,
calculated for shooting elephants, rhinoceroses, and hippopotami,
carried a quarter of a pound ball. Besides these he had several pairs
of double-barrelled pistols, a scimitar, and a dagger.

The second wagon carried his kitchen utensils, which, as he was
rather addicted to luxurious eating, were numerous for a traveller: a
gridiron, a frying-pan, two kettles, a caldron, tea-kettles, tea-pots,
coffee-pots, basins, plates, dishes, &c. of porcelain. To supply these
he laid in a large store of white sugar, coffee, tea, chocolate, and
sugar-candy. His brandy and tobacco, to the use of which he was not
at all addicted, were designed to purchase friends among the natives,
and to keep his Hottentot attendants in good-humour. In addition
to his wagons he had a great and a small tent, and numerous other
conveniences, which he describes with great complacency. His train
consisted of five Hottentots, nine dogs, and thirty oxen; but both his
servants and his cattle were afterward considerably increased.

Le Vaillant judged rightly, that on proceeding on such an expedition
it would be imprudent to have any associate of equal rank. Few men are
calculated by nature to become travellers, though every person whose
constitution will endure fatigue may perform a journey; but there are
still fewer who are gifted with those happy qualities which render
men desirable companions in an undertaking whence fame is expected to
be derived. Some, from feebleness of purpose, desert you almost at
the outset, and, to conceal their own pusillanimity, represent you
in their coteries as feeble, or selfish, or impracticable; others,
more mischievous still, proceed so far that they cannot return, but,
clinging to your skirts, contrive on every trying occasion to impede
your movements, or cast a damp upon your energies; while a third class,
too brave to feel alarm, too consistent to shrink from an enterprise
begun, too honest to misrepresent you, will yet thwart your designs
through obstinacy, or through the pardonable but fatal desire to follow
a plan of their own. For these reasons our traveller, though solicited
by many who would have gladly borne him company, steadily refused to
admit of an associate, and determined to proceed on his journey alone.

His preparations being at length completed, he took leave of his
friends, and departed from Cape Town on the 18th of December, 1781.
Whatever be the natural condition of man, his mind never so powerfully
experiences the emotions of delight as when, escaping voluntarily from
the restraints of society and civilization, he finds himself his own
master, and trusting to his own prowess for protection, on the virgin
bosom of the earth; for of all the enjoyments which Heaven bestows upon
mankind perfect liberty is the sweetest. Something of this Le Vaillant
now tasted; for, although still within the pale of the laws and the
purlieus of government, he saw himself on the way to the freedom of
the woods, and partook by anticipation of those pleasures which to the
savage are, perhaps, an ample equivalent for the gratification which
letters and refinement afford.

The direction of his course lay along the eastern coast, towards the
country of the Kaffers. At intervals the houses of colonists, with
their orchards and plantations, appeared; but they became thinner
as he advanced, while the woods and general scenery increased in
magnificence; and the troops of wild animals, such as the zebra and
the antelope, which stretched themselves out like armies on the plain,
became strikingly more numerous and of more frequent occurrence. “We
likewise,” says the traveller, “saw several ostriches; and the variety
and the movements of these vast hordes were particularly amusing. My
dogs fiercely pursued all these different species of animals, which,
mingling together in their flight, often formed but one enormous
column. This confusion, however, like that of theatrical machines,
lasted but for a moment. I recalled my dogs, and in an instant each
animal had regained his own herd, which constantly kept at a certain
distance from all the others.” Among these animals were the blue
antelope, the rarest and most beautiful of all the known species of
gazelle.

The habits of a small kind of tortoise, which afforded them the
materials of various feasts during this part of the journey, are very
remarkable. When the great heats of summer arrive, and dry up the ponds
in which they pass the winter, they descend into the earth in search of
humidity, deeper and deeper in proportion as the sun penetrates farther
and farther into the soil. In this position they remain plunged in a
kind of lethargy until the return of the rainy season; but those who
require them for food may always, by digging, discover an ample supply.
Their eggs, which they lay on the brink of the small lakes and ponds
which they inhabit, and abandon to be hatched by the sun, are about the
size of those of the pigeon, and extremely good eating.

Le Vaillant was careful as he went along to augment his followers, both
rational and irrational. He hired several new Hottentots, and purchased
a number of oxen, with a milch-cow, and some she-goats, whose milk he
foresaw might be an important possession in various circumstances. He
likewise purchased a cock to awake him in the morning, and a monkey,
which, besides serving as an almost unerring taster, his instinct
enabling him immediately to distinguish such fruits and herbs as were
innoxious and wholesome from such as were hurtful, was a still better
watchman even than the dog, as the slightest noise, the most distant
sign of danger, instantly awakened his terrors, and, by the cries and
gestures of fear which it extorted from him, put his master upon his
guard.

Thus accompanied, he continued his journey towards the east, until his
progress was stopped by the Dove’s River, upon the banks of which he
determined to encamp until the decrease of its waters should render
it fordable. His mode of life, which the hospitable invitations of
the neighbouring colonists, to whom the sight of a stranger was like a
spring in the desert, were not suffered to interrupt, was exceedingly
agreeable. “I regulated,” says he, “the employment of my time, which
was usually spent in the following manner:--At night, when not
travelling, I slept in my wagon or in my tent; awakened by the break
of day by my cock, my first business was to prepare my coffee, while
the Hottentots, on their part, were busied about the cattle. As soon
as the sun appeared I took my fowlingpiece, and, setting out with my
monkey, beat about the neighbourhood until ten o’clock. On returning to
my tent, I always found it well swept and clean. The superintendence
of this part of my economy had been confided to the care of an old
African whose name was Swanspoel, who, not being able to follow us
in our rambles, was intrusted with the government of the camp, and
invariably maintained it in good order. The furniture of my tent was
not very abundant; a camp-stool or two, a table appropriated to the
dissection of my animals, and a few instruments required in their
preparation constituted the whole of its ornaments. From ten o’clock
until twelve I was employed in my tents, classing in my drawers the
insects I had found. I then dined. Placing upon my knees a small board
covered with a napkin, a single dish of roasted or broiled meat was
served up. After this frugal meal I returned to my work, if I had left
any thing unfinished, and then amused myself with hunting until sunset.
I then retired to my tent, lighted a candle, and spent an hour or two
in describing my discoveries or the events of the day in my journal.
Meanwhile, the Hottentots were employed in collecting the cattle, and
penning them around the tents and wagons. The she-goats, as soon as
they had been milked, lay down here and there among the dogs. Business
being over, and the customary great fire kindled, we gathered together
in a circle. I then took my tea; my people joyously smoked their
pipes, and for my amusement related stories, the humorous absurdity
of which almost made me crack my sides with laughter. I delighted to
encourage them, and they were by no means timid with me, as I was
careful to treat them with frankness, cordiality, and attention. On
many occasions, in fact, when the beauty of the evening succeeding the
fatigues of the day had put me in good-humour with myself and with
every thing about me, I involuntarily yielded to the spell, and gently
cherished the illusion. At such moments every one disputed with his
neighbour for the honour of amusing me by his superior wit; and by the
profound silence which reigned among us, the able story-teller might
discover how highly we appreciated his art. I know not what powerful
attraction continually leads my memory back to those peaceful days!
I still imagine myself in the midst of my camp, surrounded by my
people and my animals; an agreeable site, a mountain, a tree,--nay,
even a plant, a flower, or a fragment of rock scattered here and
there,--nothing escapes from my memory; and this spectacle, which daily
grows more and more affecting, amuses me, follows me into all places,
and has often made me forget what I have suffered from men who call
themselves civilized.”

Provisions were plentiful; partridges as large as pheasants, and
two kinds of antelopes, whose flesh was tender and nourishing. The
colonists of the vicinity, rendered generous by abundance, gratuitously
furnished him with an ample provision of milk, fruit, and vegetables,
which the traveller shared with his monkey and his Hottentots. From
this position, however, he was at length, by the shrinking of the
river, enabled to remove; and, continuing to pursue his route in the
same direction as before, he crossed several diminutive streams, and
arrived on the banks of the river Gaurits, where, the stream not being
fordable, he encamped for three days among groves of mimosa-trees.
Perceiving no sign of abatement in the waters, he then constructed a
raft, upon which his wagons and baggage were ferried over, while the
oxen and other animals swam across.

His road during this part of the journey lay at no great distance from
the sea, which therefore communicated a refreshing coolness to the
breezes, presented him at intervals with magnificent prospects, and
at the same time administered pabulum to his passion for shooting,
its solitary margin affording a retreat to thousands of flamingoes
and pelicans. His animals, meanwhile, fared luxuriously. The soil
throughout these districts was remarkable for its fertility; but a
small canton, a little to the east of Mossel Bay, called the country of
the Auteniquas, surpassed in beauty and magnificence all the landscapes
of southern Africa. Having with considerable toil ascended to the
summit of a mountain, “we were well repaid,” says Le Vaillant, “for
the fatigue which we had undergone. Our admiration was excited by the
loveliest country in the world. In the distance appeared the chain of
mountains covered with forests, which bounded the prospect on the west;
beneath our feet the eye wandered over an immense valley, the aspect
of which was diversified by hillocks, infinitely varied in form, and
descending in wavy swells towards the sea. Richly enamelled meadows
and splendid pasture-grounds still further increased the beauty of
this magnificent landscape. I was literally in ecstasy. This country
bears the name of Auteniquas, which, in the Hottentot idiom, signifies
‘the man laden with honey;’ and, in fact, we could not proceed a
single step without beholding a thousand swarms of bees. The flowers
grew in myriads, and the mingled perfume which exhaled from them, and
deliciously intoxicated the senses, their colours, their variety, the
cool pure air which we breathed, every thing united to arrest our
footsteps. Nature has bestowed the charms of fairy-land upon this spot.
Almost every flower was filled with exquisite juices, and furnished the
bees with abundant materials for the fabrication of their honey, which
they deposited in every hollow rock and tree.”

This description, which no doubt falls far short of the reality--for
what language can equal the beauties of nature?--reminds me strongly
of Spenser’s noble picture of the Gardens of Adonis. Poetry itself,
however, with all its metaphors and picturesque expressions, is faint
and dim compared with the splendour of a summer landscape, where earth,
air, and sea unite their rich hues and sublime aspect to entrance and
dazzle the eye. But our old bard, whom no man ever excelled in minute
painting of inanimate nature, contrives, by careful and repeated
touches, to unfold before the imagination an exquisite view. “There,”
says he, speaking of the gardens of the Assyrian youth,

    “There is continual spring, and harvest there
    Continual, both meeting at one time:
    For both the boughs do laughing blossoms bear
    And with fresh flowers deck the wanton prime,
    And eke at once the heavy trees they climb,
    Which seem to labour under their fruit’s load:
    The while the joyous birds make their pastime,
    Among the shady leaves, their sweet abode,
    And their true loves without suspicion tell abroad.

           *       *       *       *       *

    And all about grew every sort of flower,
    To which sad lovers were transformed of yore,” &c.

The dwellings which the few colonists, who had been led by poverty so
far from the Cape, erected in the midst of this smiling scene, offered
a striking contrast with it. Huts covered with earth, like the dens
of wild animals, in which the inhabitants passed the night stretched
upon a buffalo’s hide, afforded shelter to men who lived in plenty,
and were thus badly lodged from mere idleness. It is now inhabited by
Englishmen, and the contrast, it may well be imagined, no longer exists.

Le Vaillant, who apprehended that the country of the Auteniquas
might prove a kind of Capua to his followers, made no stay in it,
but pushed forward with all speed, and encamped on the skirts of an
immense forest. This wood abounded with touracos, a species of bird
of which he had hitherto been able to procure no specimen. His first
business therefore was, if possible, to possess himself of this bird.
His scientific ardour was kindled. He scoured the woods. The touraco
presented itself before him, but its habits unfortunately inclining it
always to perch upon the tops of the loftiest trees, he could never
succeed in bringing it down. One afternoon, however, his eagerness
increasing with his disappointments, he determined not to desist from
the pursuit of his prey, and the bird, which appeared to delight in
mocking him, confined itself to short flights, flitting from tree to
tree, until it had drawn him to a considerable distance from his camp.
Growing impatient, at length the traveller, though still believing
the bird beyond the reach of his fowlingpiece, fired, and had the
unexpected satisfaction of seeing it drop from the tree. His joy now
knew no bounds. He rushed on to snatch up his prey,

    Thorough bush, thorough briar,

until his hands and legs were dripping with blood; but when he came
up to the spot where the touraco should have been, he could discover
nothing. He searched the surrounding thickets again and again; he
proceeded farther, he returned, he examined the same spots twenty
times, he peeped into every bush, into every hole; his labour was
in vain. No touraco. “I was,” says he, “in despair, and the thick
brushwood and thorny shrubs, which had now covered even my very face
with blood, had irritated me in an indescribable manner. Nothing less
than the appearance of a lion or a tiger could at that moment have
calmed my rage. That a wretched bird, which, after so many wishes
and so much toil, I had at length succeeded in bringing down, should
after all escape from me in so unaccountable a manner! I struck my
fowlingpiece against the earth, and stamped with passion. All at once
the ground gave way under my feet; I disappeared, and sunk, with my
arms in my hand, into a pit twelve feet deep. Astonishment, and the
pain caused by the fall, now succeeded my rage. I saw myself in one
of those covered pitfalls which the Hottentots construct for the
taking of wild beasts, particularly the elephant. When I had recovered
from my surprise I began to reflect upon the means of escaping, and
congratulated myself that I had not fallen upon the sharp stake fixed
up at the bottom of the pit to impale the wild animals, and that I
found no company in the snare. But as it was every moment possible that
some might arrive, particularly during the night, should I be compelled
to remain there so long, my terrors quickly increased as darkness
approached, and retarded the execution of the only plan I could imagine
for extricating myself without assistance; this was to cut out a kind
of steps with my sabre in the sides of the pit, but this operation
would be a tedious one. In this dilemma the idea of the only rational
plan suggested itself; which was, to pick up and load my fusil. I did
so, and fired shot after shot. It was possible I might be heard by
my attendants. I therefore listened from time to time with the most
painful anxiety and a palpitating heart, in order to discover whether
my signal had been heard. At last two shots re-echoed through the wood,
and overwhelmed me with joy. I now continued firing at intervals, in
order to guide my deliverers to the spot, and in a short time they
arrived, armed to the teeth, and full of uneasiness and alarm.”

He was immediately delivered from the elephant-trap; but having
incurred so much risk in searching for the touraco, he made it a point
of honour not to be balked, and recommencing his scrutiny, with the
dogs which had arrived with his servants, found it jammed close under
a small bush. He immediately seized upon his prey, and the pleasure of
possessing this new and rare bird very quickly obliterated from his
memory the trouble and danger which it had cost him.

In this encampment they remained until the setting in of the rains,
when storms, accompanied by tremendous thunder, succeeded each other
with singular rapidity. The thunderbolt several times fell near them
in the forest. The whole country round was flooded, but they still
clung to their encampment, until the whole was at length overflowed
during the night. They then removed; but could proceed but a very short
distance, for every paltry stream was now swelled to a furious torrent,
which rushed down with impetuosity from the hills, rolling along with
it mud, trees, and fragments of rock, and threatening whoever should
attempt to traverse them with destruction. Meanwhile his cattle,
pressed by hunger, had escaped from the camp; his dogs, which no degree
of want could estrange, were reduced to skeletons, and fought with each
other for the most revolting food; his Hottentots, less affectionate
than the dogs, began to murmur, but could discover no just cause of
complaint, and were but little disposed to aid themselves. A drowned
buffalo, however, which was accidentally found in one of the torrents,
came opportunely to appease their hunger; they dragged it on
shore with shouts of joy, and having cut it in pieces, and given the
dogs their share, they feasted upon the remainder and were happy.

At length the month of March arrived, and the rains abated. The
torrents, ceasing to receive their aliments from the clouds--for,
like the Nile, they are strictly διϊὲες--shrunk to their ordinary
insignificance, the camp was immediately put in motion, and pushing
onwards for a few leagues, they discovered a more convenient site on
the acclivity of a hill, where they remained some time to recruit
themselves and their cattle. Le Vaillant travelled for pleasure,
and was gifted with the happy faculty of discovering at a glance
its springs and sources. Near the site of his camp there was a
small eminence, the summit of which was crowned with a diminutive
grove, where the trees had so grown into each other that the whole
seemed one solid mass of foliage. He immediately conceived the idea
of transforming this thicket into a palace; and causing a covered
entrance to be cut into the centre, he there hewed out two large square
apartments, one of which was immediately converted into a study, and
the other into a kitchen. If we keep out of sight the kitchen, and the
share which art had in its formation, Spenser has admirably described
this arbour, as well as the hill on which it stood:

      Right in the middest of that paradise
      There stood a stately mount, on whose round top
      A gloomy grove of myrtle-trees did rise,
      Whose shady boughs sharp steel did never lop,
      Nor wicked beasts their tender buds did crop.
      But like a girlond compassed the height,
      And from their fruitful sides sweet gum did drop,
      That all the ground, with precious dew bedight,
    Threw forth most dainty odours and most sweet delight.

      And in the thickest covert of that shade
      There was a pleasant arbour, not by art,
      But of the trees’ own inclination, made,
      Which knitting their rank branches, part to part,
      With wanton ivy-twine entrailed athwart,
      And eglantine and caprifole among,
      Fashioned above within their inmost part,
      That neither Phœbus’ beams could through them throng,
    Nor Æolus’ sharp blast could work them any wrong.

But, whatever charms his arbours might possess for him, his plans
rendered it necessary soon to leave them. He therefore, after spending
a pleasant week with M. Mulder, the last of the colonists in his route,
pushed on towards the Black River, which he crossed on rafts, and at
length found himself beyond the Dutch settlements. Here an accident
occurred which might at once have terminated his journey. In toiling
up a rough, precipitous mountain, where it was found necessary to yoke
twenty oxen to a wagon, the traces of the principal vehicle snapped
asunder, immediately in front of the great shaft-oxen, which being
unable to resist the enormous weight to which they were attached,
reeled back, and the wagon at once rolled down along the edge of an
abyss; while Le Vaillant and his whole party stood still, watching,
with uplifted hands and looks of dismay, each shock and slide of
the cumbrous machine, which, after twenty hair-breadth escapes, ran
against a large rock on the edge of the torrent, and stopped, without
receiving any material injury. Loss of time, therefore, was the only
injury he sustained. By patience and industry they succeeded in passing
the mountain, which being effected, they descended into a magnificent
country, watered by numerous rivers, covered with woods, abounding in
game, and affording numerous specimens of birds and quadrupeds unknown
to natural history.

In the midst of this new scene he was overtaken by disease. Though of
a disposition naturally intrepid, the idea that he might be destined
to perish in the wilderness, surrounded by savages, two thousand
leagues from home, disturbed his imagination. Charles the Twelfth of
Sweden, attacked by a fever when flying through the Ukraine after the
battle of Pultowa, experienced a diminution of courage, and, unless my
memory deceive me, was seen to shed tears; and Cæsar, when the fit, as
Shakspeare has it, was on him, cried, “Give me some drink, Titinius,
like a sick girl.” Le Vaillant, therefore, had good authority for
his melancholy. His temperament, moreover, in proportion as it was
more susceptible of exhilarating impressions in health, was proner in
sickness to yield to despondency. He was, besides, entirely ignorant
of medicine; knew nothing of the nature of the disease by which he
was attacked; and was surrounded by persons still more ignorant than
himself. All he could do, therefore, was to remain quiet, and allow
nature to work. For twelve days he lingered on the confines of life
and death, kept in a perpetual bath of perspiration by the heat of the
atmosphere; and this heat was his Pæon and Æsculapius, for by its sole
aid the fever, which had so fiercely menaced him, was entirely subdued.
However, it is extremely probable that he owed the disease as well as
the remedy to the climate. To enhance his misfortunes, his Hottentots
were at the same time attacked by dysentery; but, by strictly attending
to regimen, a difficult task to a gross and sensual people, they all,
without exception, recovered.

This danger being removed, they proceeded on their journey, the
interest of which was every day increased by the greater solitude
of the scene, and the more frequent occurrence of wild animals, or
their traces. I would willingly describe at length the pleasures and
the adventures of this romantic excursion; but my plan forbids me to
indulge in voluminous details, and I want the art to present by a few
masterly strokes the whole of a complicated and animated scene to the
mind. However, I must attempt what I can. After wandering a full month
in a vast plain, intersected by forests, and, in a manner, walled
round by precipices, they were driven back upon their own footsteps,
fatigued and mortified, and unable to conjecture in what direction it
would be possible to advance. While they were in this humour, they
discovered in their route the footmarks of a herd of elephants. To
Le Vaillant, who had never yet enjoyed the satisfaction of hunting
this enormous animal, though it might, perhaps, be said to have
constituted one of his principal reasons for travelling in Africa, the
sight was sufficient to restore his equanimity. The order for halting
was immediately given, and having, as soon as the tents were pitched,
selected five of his best marksmen, our traveller set out in pursuit of
the game.

The traces were so fresh and striking, that they had no difficulty in
following them. They therefore pushed on vigorously, expecting every
moment to come in sight of the herd. But still they saw nothing; and
night coming on, they bivouacked in the woods, and having supped gayly,
lay down to sleep, though not without considerable agitation and alarm.
At every puff of wind rustling through the leaves, at every hum of a
beetle, the whole party was roused, and put upon its guard. It was
feared that the monsters of which they were in search might rush upon
them unawares, and trample them to atoms. However, the night passed
away, as did likewise the day and night ensuing, without their being
disturbed by any thing more formidable than a stray buffalo, which
approaching the fire, and discovering that it was in the vicinity of
man, rushed back with all speed into the woods.

On the third day, after a painful march among briers and underwood,
they arrived in a rather open part of the forest, when one of the
Hottentots, who had climbed up into a tree to reconnoitre, perceived
the herd in the distance, and putting his finger on his lips to enjoin
silence, informed them by opening and closing his hand of the number
of the elephants. He then came down; a council was held; and it was
determined they should approach them on the lee-side that they might
not be discovered. The Hottentot now conducted Le Vaillant through
the bushes to a small knoll, and desiring him to cast his eyes in a
certain direction, pointed out an enormous elephant not many paces
distant. At first, however, Le Vaillant could see nothing; or, rather,
he mistook what he saw of the animal for a portion of the rock by
which it stood. But when at length a slight motion had corrected his
mistake, he distinguished the head and enormous tusks of the beast
turned towards him. He instantly levelled his musket, and, aiming at
the brain, fired, and the elephant dropped down dead. The report of the
gun put the whole herd, consisting of about thirty, to instant flight;
and our traveller beheld with amazement their huge ears flapping the
air with a violence in proportion to the rapidity of their motion.

The whole party now experienced that joyous alacrity which man always
feels when engaged in the work of destruction. They fired upon the
enemy, for as such the beasts were now to be regarded, and the sight
of the excrements mingled with blood, which escaped from the wounded
animal, and informed them that their bullets had taken effect,
delighted them exceedingly. Their pursuit now became more eager. The
elephant, writhing with pain, at one moment crouched to the earth, at
another rose, but only to fall again. The hunters, however, who hung
close upon his haunches, constantly by fresh volleys compelled him to
rise. In this condition he rushed through the woods, snapping off, or
uprooting trees in his passage. At length, becoming furious with pain,
he turned round upon his pursuers, who immediately fled in their turn.
Le Vaillant, more eager than the rest, had unhappily advanced before
them, and was now but twenty-five paces from the animal. His gun of
thirty pounds’ weight impeded his movements. The enemy gained upon
him every moment. His followers gave him up for lost; but just as the
elephant had overtaken him, he dropped down, and crept under the trunk
of a fallen tree, over which the furious beast, whose great height
prevents it, at least in such situations, from seeing under its feet,
bounded in an instant. Being terrified, however, by the noise of the
Hottentots, it had not advanced many paces before it stopped, and with
a wild but searching eye, began to reconnoitre the spot. Our traveller
had his long gun in his hand, and might, had he chosen, have fired
upon his enemy; but he knew that instant destruction must ensue should
he miss his aim, and he therefore preferred trusting to the chances
of concealment. Presently the elephant faced about, and drew near the
tree; but he again leaped over it without perceiving Le Vaillant, who,
as soon as he retreated to a sufficient distance, sprang from his
hiding-place, and shot him in the flank. Notwithstanding all this, he
succeeded in effecting his escape, though his bloody traces too clearly
showed the terrible condition to which their balls had reduced him. In
this critical conjuncture, Klaas, his principal Hottentot, exhibited
proofs of courage and affection which infinitely endeared him to his
master, who thenceforward regarded him more in the light of a brother
than a servant.

To those who have all their lives been accustomed to live upon the
flesh of the ox and the sheep, elephant cutlets may appear revolting;
but in the deserts of Africa, where imperious hunger silences the
objections of prejudice, and teaches man to regard the whole animal
creation as his farmyard, the palate quickly accommodates itself to
the viands within its reach, and even learns to discover delicacy in
things which, in a fashionable dining-room, it might have loathed.
However this may be, Le Vaillant and his Hottentots, whose appetites
were grievously sharpened by fatigue, immediately employed themselves
in cutting up and cooking their game. For the former, as the most
dainty personage of the party, a few slices off the trunk were broiled,
and he found them so exquisite that, being as I have already said,
to a certain degree, an epicure, they gave him a taste for elephant
hunting, which he afterward seized every occasion of indulging. But he
was informed by Klaas that by far the greatest delicacy, which would
cause him to forget the flavour of the trunk, was yet to come. This
consisted of the elephant’s foot, which his people undertook to dress
for his breakfast.

The reader who has perused Captain Cook’s “Voyages in the South Seas,”
or Ledyard, or the “Histoire Naturelle de l’Homme” of Lesson, will
remember the description given by those navigators of the curious
subterranean ovens employed by the native islanders in cooking. A large
opening is made in the earth, which is filled with red-hot stones or
charcoal, and upon these a great fire is kept up for several hours.
The hole is then cleared, and the thing which is to be baked inserted
in the centre. Then the top is again closed, and a blazing fire once
more kindled; which, having burned during a great part of the night,
is at length extinguished, when the oven is opened, and the meat taken
out, more exquisitely cooked than any man accustomed to the ordinary
culinary processes can conceive.

Such was the process by which the elephant’s feet were baked for Le
Vaillant. When they presented him one for breakfast, “The cooking,”
says he, “had enlarged it prodigiously; I could scarcely recognise
the form. But it looked so nice, and exhaled so delicious an odour,
that I was impatient to taste it. It was a breakfast for a king. I
had heard much of the excellence of bears’ feet, but could not have
conceived that an animal so awkward, so material as the elephant, could
have afforded so tender, so delicate a meat. Never have our modern
Luculluses, thought I, seen any thing comparable upon their tables; it
is in vain that they confound and reverse the seasons by the force of
gold, and lay all the countries in the world under contribution: there
are bounds to their craving sensuality; they have never been able
to reach this point.” I do not see, however, what should prevent our
rearing elephants, as we rear sheep and oxen, for the slaughter; in
which case many persons, not ambitious of rivalling Lucullus in luxury,
might enjoy the sight of this _ne plus ultra_ of cooking upon their
tables.

In proceeding eastward from this spot they encountered a horde of
wandering Hottentots, with whose women our traveller’s followers, now
considerably increased in number, contracted connexions with that
easy effrontery which, at first consideration, would appear to be an
attribute peculiar to civilized man. Le Vaillant is the apologist
of the Hottentots; they were the instruments of his pleasure. His
imagination associated them with romantic wanderings, with adventures,
with dangers, with escapes; and when, after his return to France, he
wished to remember and paint them in their true colours, the idea
that they had been his companions, that they had suffered privations,
and tasted of many enjoyments together, rushed into his mind, and
blinded his judgment by interesting his heart. This natural result
is not dishonourable to his feelings; but it can have no influence
with me. I have received from them neither good nor harm. I must,
therefore, confess that in my estimation they rank very low, even in
the scale of savage excellence. Timid even to cowardliness, they are
not urged by their temperament towards violence and bloodshed: but
this induces cringing and dastardly habits, and causes them to desert
their dearest friends when in danger. Gratitude is a plant which
flourishes only in noble breasts. Among the Hottentots it is feeble
and shortlived, unless nourished by a constant stream of benefits.
That they have little religion, or superstition, though no proof of
immorality, is an incontrovertible evidence of want of capacity and
genius; for intellect, wherever it exists, is skilful in the discovery
of intellect, and few, even among savage nations, are cursed with
perceptions so obtuse that they cannot, if I may venture so to express
myself, discover the footsteps of the sovereign intellect among the
phenomena of the visible world. How far the profound indifference in
which they are said to grovel on this point may exist, however, I will
not presume to determine. It is possible that travellers may sometimes
make these and similar savages the interpreters of their own thoughts.

On approaching the country of the Kaffers, a brave and warlike people,
exceedingly hostile to the Hottentots, whom they regarded as the slaves
and spies of the colonists, the most terrible apprehensions were
awakened in his camp. Night and day they were on the alert. Every sound
which startled the darkness was transformed, by their terror, into the
footsteps of a Kaffer; and if they did not at once burst into open
mutiny against their chief, it was rather the fear of the dangers to
which the loss of him might expose them, than any ideas of discipline
or fidelity, that restrained them.

Le Vaillant’s determination, nevertheless, still was to advance into
Kaffraria; but finding after repeated endeavours that no argument
could prevail upon his attendants, a very small number excepted, to
accompany him, he contented himself with despatching an envoy to the
Kaffer king, or chief. Meanwhile he continued to roam about on the
frontiers, hunting, shooting, and adding to his collections. Here he
encountered the fury of an African tempest. “The rain,” he observes,
“fell all night in such abundance, that, in spite of all our efforts,
it extinguished our fires. Our dogs made an indescribable clamour, and
kept us awake all night, though no wild beast appeared. I have observed
that during these rainy nights the lion, the tiger, and the hyena are
never heard; but the danger is increased twofold; for, as they still
roam about, they thus fall suddenly and unexpectedly on their prey.
Still further to increase the fright which this unfortunate fact must
occasion, the great humidity almost entirely deprives the dogs of the
power of smelling, which renders them of little use. Of this danger my
people were well aware, and therefore laboured with remarkable energy
to keep alive the fires.

“It must be confessed,” he continues, “that the stormy nights of the
African deserts are the very image of desolation, and that terror, on
such occasions, involuntarily comes over one. When you are overtaken by
these deluges, your tents and mats are quickly drenched and overflowed;
a continual succession of lightning-flashes causes you twenty times in
a minute to pass abruptly and suddenly from the most terrific light to
entire darkness: the deafening roarings of the thunder, which burst
from every side with horrible din, roll, as it were, against each
other, are multiplied by the echoes, and hurled from peak to peak; the
howling of the domestic animals; short intervals of fearful silence;
every thing concurs to render those moments more melancholy. The danger
to be apprehended from wild beasts still further increases the terror;
and nothing but day can lessen the alarm, and restore nature to her
tranquillity.”

In the interim between the departure and return of his messengers to
the Kaffer chief, he fell in with a horde of wild Hottentots whom he
denominates Gonaquas. A small party of them arrived at his camp during
the night, and on awaking in the morning he saw himself with surprise
surrounded by about twenty strange savages. They were accompanied by
their chief, who advanced in a polite manner to pay his respects to the
traveller, while the women, at once curious and timid, followed close
behind, adorned with all their ornaments. Their bodies, the greater
part of which was naked, were all newly anointed and sprinkled with
red powder, which exhaled an agreeable perfume; while their faces had
been painted in a variety of fashions. Each came, in the manner of the
East, bringing or bearing a present. From one he received a number of
ostrich’s eggs, a lamb from a second, while a third presented him with
a quantity of milk in baskets. These baskets, woven with exquisite
ingenuity with fine reeds or roots, are of so close a texture, that
they may be used in carrying water. The chief’s present consisted of
a handful of ostrich feathers of rare beauty, which Le Vaillant, to
show how highly he valued them, immediately fixed in his hat, instead
of his own plume. He then, in return, laid before the old chief, whose
name was Haabas, several pounds of tobacco, which the Gonaqua at once
distributed in equal portions among his people, reserving merely his
own share, which did not exceed any other person’s, for himself. Other
gifts, highly valued by savages, such as tinder-boxes, knives, beads,
and bracelets, were added to the tobacco, and diffused universal joy
among the tribe.

Among the women there was a girl of sixteen, who, by the pleasure
with which she seemed to regard his person, particularly attracted
the attention of Le Vaillant. Considered as an African she might be
pronounced beautiful, and her form, which would have tempted the pencil
of an Albano, possessed all those amorous contours which we admire in
the Graces. Our traveller appears to have been in general but little
susceptible of the charms of women; but the beautiful Gonaqua quickly
caused him to feel that when accompanied by a desire to please, female
attractions are everywhere irresistible, and to express his admiration
he bestowed upon the savage beauty the name of Narina, which, in the
Hottentot idiom, signifies “a flower.” Presents, it may be easily
imagined, were not spared in this instance. The riches of his camp were
in her power,--shawls, necklaces, girdles, every ornament which his
European taste loved to contemplate on the female form, was lavished
on Narina, who, in the intoxicating delight of the moment, scarcely
knew whether she was in heaven or earth. She felt her arms, her feet,
her head; and the touch of her dress and ornaments caused fresh
pleasure every moment. He then produced a small mirror, more faithful
than the lake or stream which had hitherto served for this purpose, and
put the finishing stroke to the picture by showing her her own image
reflected from its surface. His days now passed in one uninterrupted
series of feasts, visits, dances, amusements of every kind. Nothing
could have been more favourable to his views of studying Hottentot
manners; but with respect to his ulterior design of penetrating far
into the solitudes of the desert, the case was different, for his
followers contracted in these Circean bowers a disease from which
their chief himself, perhaps, was not altogether exempt; that is, an
effeminate aversion to fatigue, a secret repugnance to toil, and, what
was still worse, the habit of viewing dangers in the light thrown over
them by an enamoured fancy, which distorts even more powerfully than
the mirage of the desert.

It was now three weeks since the departure of his messengers for
Kaffer-land, and he began to entertain apprehensions for their safety.
His attendants, who partook of the same fears, became more than ever
averse to advance eastward, and, as he was quickly informed by Klaas,
began to concert among themselves various schemes of desertion. The
camp at this period was stationed near a river, on the rich banks of
which his oxen were turned out to graze, under the care of several
Hottentots, who were kept by their fear of the Kaffers in a strict
attention to their duty. One day, when Le Vaillant was accidentally
detained in his tent, a messenger from the herdsmen arrived in
breathless haste, to announce the fearful intelligence that a party of
the enemy was approaching, and had already reached the opposite side
of the river. Klaas and four fusileers were immediately despatched to
reconnoitre, while the traveller called out and examined his forces
and his arms, and prepared to give the Kaffers a warm reception should
their intentions be found to be hostile; but it was shortly discovered
that they had been invited to his camp by his envoys, whom they had
accordingly accompanied on their return.

Our traveller had with laudable patience acquired a knowledge of the
Hottentot language, but the people who now thronged his camp spoke
a different dialect, not one word of which could he conjecture the
meaning. But the languages of savages are easy in proportion as
they are simple and poor, and the acquisition of Greek or Arabic
would probably cost more pains and study than would render a man
master of half the uncultivated languages of the world. It was not
long, therefore, before he learned to disentangle, as it were, the
intertwisted sounds which re-echoed around him, and to assign a meaning
to them. The Kaffers employed much gesticulation and grimace in
speaking, which aided him, likewise, in divining their thoughts; and he
soon began to entertain reasonable hopes that an interpreter might not
always be necessary in his intercourse with this lively people.

He imagined that his firearms, and the skill with which he made use of
them, inspired the Kaffers with wonder; but he was no doubt mistaken.
His fancy placed him among those simple tribes described by early
travellers and navigators, to whom our weapons were utterly unknown;
while the savages who were now his guests had frequently fought hand
to hand with the colonists, and not only beheld their firearms, but
learned, at the expense of their blood, how destructive they were.
This illusion, however, appears to have afforded him pleasure, and
he honestly cherished it; and as no injury can arise from it to the
reader, it will have been sufficient to allude to it thus briefly.

The history of his intercourse with this people affords a striking
example of the incalculable benefits which one civilized man, who
possessed courage to make the experiment, might confer upon a wild
nation, whose Menû or Manco Capæ he would thus become. For genius the
Kaffers are decidedly superior to the Hottentots; and if the picture
which Le Vaillant draws of them be correct, it would require no very
extraordinary impulse to launch them into the career of civilization.
He saw them, however, but for a moment, as it were; for not long after
their arrival, it was discovered that several half-castes, or bastards,
as they are termed at the Cape, had been commissioned by the colonists
to insinuate themselves into his camp, for the purpose of discovering
whether or not he was entering into an alliance with the Kaffers. This,
at least, was the interpretation which, after all the information
he could obtain, he was induced to put upon the matter; but, like
Rousseau, he seems to have amused himself with the idea that spies
were continually placed upon his movements, and by this hypothesis he
explained many little events resulting much less from design than from
a fortuitous concourse of circumstances. Still, the poor Kaffers, who
had suffered grievously by the Dutch, fully participated in his alarm,
and made a precipitate retreat into their own country, but not before
they had given him a pressing invitation to follow them.

Upon considering the state of the camp, and the inclinations of his
people, it was judged imprudent to attempt against their will to lead
them away farther from the colony; and therefore, selecting from
among them a small number of the bravest, and leaving the remainder
under the care of Swanspoel, he departed on his long-desired journey
into Kaffer-land. Upon quitting the encampment they ascended the
banks of the Great Fish River, and having forded its stream, entered
Kaffer-land, moving in a north-easterly direction. The whole plain
was covered with mimosa-trees, which, as Burckhardt observes, cast
but a scanty shade. They were, therefore, greatly exposed to the heat
of the sun, which was now intense. After marching for several days
in this manner through a country which had once been inhabited, but
was deserted now, and abandoned to the wild beasts, fires at night,
deserted kraal, gardens overrun with weeds, and fields, the culture
of which had recently been interrupted, inspired the belief that some
half-stationary, half-wandering hordes must be in the neighbourhood.

The fatigue of the journey, united with a scarcity of water, began at
length to cause the luxuries of the camp and the neighbourhood of the
Great Fish River to be regretted; but although Le Vaillant himself
evidently shared to a certain degree in these regrets, he was still
unwilling to relinquish his enterprise before he caught a single
glimpse of the Kaffers. At length a small party was discovered, whose
dread of the whites equalled at least the terror with which they
themselves inspired the pusillanimous Hottentots. From these men Le
Vaillant learned that the greater part of the nation had retreated
far into the interior, and as his imagination, at this time, seems to
have exaggerated every difficulty and danger, for he was weary of the
journey, he gladly seized upon the first excuse for relinquishing his
enterprise, and returned with all possible celerity to his camp.

All his thoughts and wishes now pointed towards the Cape. Narina and
the friendly Gonaquas in vain exerted their influence. The desert had
lost its charms. For the moment he was weary of travelling. However,
not to encounter in vain the fatigue of a long journey, he formed the
design of verging a little to the north of his former route, through
the immense solitudes of the Sneuw Bergen. The caravan, therefore,
quitted the vicinity of the sea, and proceeded towards the west through
forests of mimosa-trees, which were then in full flower, and imparted
all the charms of summer to the landscape. The extreme silence of the
nights during this part of the journey was sublime. All the functions
of life seemed for the time to be suspended; except that, at intervals,
the roaring of the lion resounded through the forests, startling the
echoes, and according to the interpretation of the fancy, hushing the
whole scene with terror.

At length, on the 3d of January, 1782, he discovered in the north-west
the formidable summits of the Sneuw Bergen, which, though surrounded
on all sides by burning plains, it being in those southern latitudes
the height of summer, bore still upon its sides long ridges of snow.
Prodigious herds of antelopes, amounting to more than fifty thousand
in number, now crossed their route, driven by insufferable heat and
drought towards the north. The scenery every league became more dreary.
Wastes of sand, rocks piled upon each other, chasms, precipices,
barrenness, sublimity, but no pasturage; and men in want of the
necessaries of life regard as insipid whatever refuses to minister to
their wants. Thus we can account for the little interest with which the
sight of the Sneuw Bergen inspired Le Vaillant, who would otherwise
appear to have been constitutionally deprived of that masculine energy
which impels us rather to rejoice than be depressed at the sight of
steril and desolate mountains, seldom trodden but by the brave, and
seeming to have been expressly thrown up by nature as a rampart upon
which freedom might successfully struggle against the oppressors of
mankind. This is the true source of that indescribable delight with
which we all tread upon mountain soil. A secret instinct seems to
whisper to the heart the original design, if it may be said without
impiety, with which those inexpugnable fastnesses were fashioned by
the hand of God. “Here,” say we to ourselves, “here at least we may be
free;” and we look down from these arid heights with scorn upon the
possessors of the fattest pastures, if the mark of tyranny, like that
of the Beast in the Apocalypse, is set upon the soil.

Le Vaillant’s enthusiasm, which greatly depended upon the state
of his animal spirits, was now evaporating rapidly. His care and
circumspection were likewise proportionably diminished, and, in
consequence, the want of provisions and water was frequently
experienced. To give a keener edge to these calamities and privations,
it was rumoured among his followers that the recesses of the snowy
mountains afforded a retreat to numerous Bushmans or banditti, men whom
necessity or inclination had arrayed in opposition to the laws, and
those who lived under their protection. Every privation was therefore
borne with greater impatience. They considered themselves as persons
wantonly exposed to danger by the caprice of their leader; hence his
authority was daily less and less respected. Nevertheless, he drew near
the mountains, and climbing up with difficulty to the summit of one of
their peaks, enjoyed the wide prospect it afforded. This satisfied his
curiosity, more particularly as three men, supposed to be bandits, were
discovered among the ravines, but made their escape at their approach.
A few days afterward one of these fierce robbers was killed in an
attempt to murder one of the Hottentots of the escort.

The want of water, which they had already begun to experience,
continued to increase as they advanced. The oxen, like the men,
suffered extremely, and several of them dropped down, and were unable
to rise again. The feet of the dogs were exceedingly lacerated; they
limped along painfully, and with the greatest exertion. In one
word, every man and animal in the camp required repose; and with
inexpressible joy they at length saw the day of their arrival at the
Cape, which put an end to the toils and sufferings of sixteen months.

Le Vaillant had not yet satisfied his locomotive passion, and had,
indeed, notwithstanding the interest which his adventures inspire, seen
but little of Africa. He now amused himself with visiting the various
districts of the colony, and, among other spots, the extreme point of
the promontory, which opposes its rocky snout to the eternal storms
and waves of the Southern Ocean. Here, as with a sombre melancholy,
he viewed the constant succession of the billows, which, confused and
foaming under the influence of the winds, hurled themselves against
the cliffs, a depression of soul came over him, and he compared
the phenomenon before him to the life of man, and the annihilation
which, according to his creed, succeeds it. This miserable dogma, the
offspring of insane reasoning, and a distrust in the power or goodness
of the Divinity, was at that period in dispute among the sophists
of Europe; but I pity the man who could make so bestial a creed the
companion of his soul amid the vast solitudes of the desert, where we
might expect that the very winds of heaven would have winnowed away so
vile a chaff, and rendered back its native whiteness and purity to the
mind.

Returning to Cape Town, he began, but with less enthusiasm than on
the former occasion, his preparations for a second journey into the
interior. Experience, he imagined, had enabled him to improve upon his
former plans. He had seen the country, he had studied its inhabitants.
Had he not laid the foundation for almost certain success? The result
showed how dim, how bounded, how little to be depended upon is human
foresight.

His followers were now more numerous than formerly: eighteen men, one
woman, three horses, thirteen dogs, three milch cows, eleven goats, and
fifty-two oxen. With this train he departed from Saldanha Bay, June
15th, 1782, directing his course towards the north, along the western
coast of Africa. During the early part of the journey, in the district
of the Twenty-four Rivers, he found the prodigious nests of the
Termites or white ant, which, though inferior in dimensions to those
described by other travellers, were yet four feet in height. These
ants, which are accounted a delicacy by the Chensu Karir, a wandering
people of the Deccan, are likewise eaten by the Hottentots, who seem to
regard them with a more favourable eye even than locusts, which are,
however, highly esteemed.

Notwithstanding that, in pursuance of the advice of his Cape friends,
he had set out in the rainy season, the party had not advanced far
before the want of water was experienced. The men and oxen suffered
extremely, but the dogs were still more severely afflicted, and
several of them, after exhibiting symptoms of their approach to a
state bordering upon hydrophobia, ran off into the desert, where they
perished, or relapsed into their original wildness. The party was in
this position when Le Vaillant, whose mind was tortured by the most
gloomy forebodings, was startled from his reveries by the sharp cry
of a bird which was passing over his head. It was a mountain duck,
which, he doubted not, was proceeding towards a spring. He therefore
put his horse to the gallop, and earnestly pursuing the flight of the
bird with his eye, had very quickly the satisfaction of observing it
alight upon a great rock, where it disappeared. Persuaded that it had
stopped to drink, he clambered up the rock, and found in fact a large
basin, or hollow in the rock, filled with water, in which the duck was
gayly swimming about and amusing itself. He had not the ingratitude to
fire at it, but he frightened it away, in the hope that, not having
sufficiently quenched its thirst, it might fly to another cistern
within sight; but in this he was disappointed. They now laid up a
provision of water for several days, and having allowed all the cattle
to quench their thirst, proceeded on their journey. During those
excessive droughts, it was curious, when a shower came on, to behold
the contrivance of the animals: observing that whatever water fell upon
the sands was immediately absorbed and lost, while the quantity with
which their own bodies were drenched ran down in little tread-like
streams over their sides, they drew near to each other, and by applying
their mouths to those diminutive currents, thus succeeded in quenching
their excruciating thirst. I am surprised that, in the tremendous
extremities to which our traveller and his followers were reduced by
want of water, they never had recourse to a method which, disgusting
and terrible as it may seem, has, I believe, been successfully tried
for quenching thirst by other travellers, as well as by certain tribes
of savages; I mean, to drink the blood of the animals they slaughtered.
Man has no doubt a natural repugnance to such expedients, but may
yield, under the pressure of imperious necessity, to whatever means,
short of injustice, Providence may afford him of preserving life.

Upon arriving, after extraordinary privations and fatigue, upon the
banks of the Elephant’s River, they indeed found water in abundance;
but there was no pasture for the cattle, not even under the shade of
the mimosas and willows which bordered the stream. All was burnt up.
They proceeded farther inland, therefore, in search of verdure, and
arrived on the banks of the Koïgnas, where they encamped upon a spot
called the “Bat’s Rock.” From the fresh footmarks of the lion in the
sand, they knew that there were enemies in the neighbourhood, and
accordingly were more than ordinarily cautious in keeping watch, and in
the kindling of their night-fires. But,--

    Incidit in Scyllam qui vult evitare Charybdin:

for no sooner had the fires begun to blaze, than there issued forth
from the hollows of the rocks myriads of bats, which, flittering hither
and thither, struck against their faces, and stunned them with their
obscene cries, until, no longer able to endure their clamour, they
struck their tents and decamped. Virgil probably derived the idea of
his famous description of the Harpies from some such adventure as this;
for he had travelled a good deal in the Grecian islands, where bats, I
believe, are numerous:

    At subitæ horrifico lapsu de montibus adsunt
    Harpyiæ, et magnis quatiunt clangoribus alas,
    Diripiuntque dapes, contactuque omnia fœdant
    Immundo: tum vox tetrum dira inter odorem.

Le Vaillant, who had a partiality for adventure, was here engaged
in one which I must describe at some length. Leaving the greater
number of his people encamped on the banks of the Elephant River, he
had descended with a small detachment to the seashore. Here a whale
was found, from which the Hottentots drew several skins of oil. The
traveller, having been disappointed in his expectations of meeting with
elephants on the right bank of the stream, concluded, with some degree
of probability, that they had crossed the river, and taken refuge on
the opposite side: he was therefore desirous of following them. But he
was near the mouth of the river, which, at all times wide and rapid,
had been exceedingly increased by the late rains, and now presented a
formidable appearance. Unhappily, he was incapable of swimming, and
for constructing a raft there was no time. After much consideration,
therefore, it was resolved to attempt the stream in a novel mode. The
trunk of a fallen tree was selected; the tent, with the garments of the
Hottentots, was fastened upon its centre, the oil-skins at each end;
while Le Vaillant himself, having suspended his watch and powder-flasks
about his neck, and tied all their fowling-pieces on his shoulders, got
astride upon the tree as soon as it was afloat. The Hottentots, having
fastened strips of leather to the end of the trunk, then jumped into
the water, and pushed off from the shore. They were four in number,
and it was agreed that two should tow the tree along, while the other
two pushed it forward from behind, taking these different offices in
turn. As long as they remained in smooth water their progress was
rapid. Nothing could appear more easy than their undertaking. They
laughed, they jested with each other, and already thought themselves
on the opposite shore. But their triumph was premature: for they had
no sooner entered the current than the tree became unmanageable; now
pitching forward upon the swimmers, now recoiling with invincible force
against those who laboured to impel it from behind; dragging the former
after it, submerging the latter in the waves. No jests were now heard.
Every limb was plied, every nerve strained, to force a way through the
impetuous current; every man exerted himself to the utmost; but the
river rushed along with irresistible violence, and instead of making
way towards the shore, they saw themselves hurried down by the stream
towards the sea, where inevitable death awaited them. Meanwhile Le
Vaillant perceived with dismay that their strength began to fail them.
They breathed short, their strokes became irregular, their efforts
grew fainter and fainter; yet they tugged desperately at the tree,
apparently resolved at least to perish at their posts, and to share the
fate of him whom they could not save. Still they drew nearer and nearer
to the sea, and their hopes diminished in proportion. Observing this,
the two men who had been placed in the rear sprang forward, and by
their united strength endeavoured to force along the trunk. At length
Le Vaillant thought he perceived a diminution in the violence of the
current, and this discovery being communicated to the swimmers, they
redoubled their efforts, and in a few minutes one of them found that
he could touch the bottom. This he announced by a loud cry of joy,
which was re-echoed by the others. They now began to recover their
tranquillity, and pushing forward with vigour, were quickly landed on
the shore. Here they joyously kindled an immense fire, and having along
with them a small quantity of brandy, they drank it, dried themselves,
and next day departed on their return to the camp.

Here fresh troubles awaited the traveller. His oxen were dying of
hunger and fatigue; his followers were discouraged; even his own
resolution was shaken. But the shame of succumbing to surmountable
difficulties,--of entertaining a base fear of dangers which other
men had braved,--of returning, in fact, baffled and defeated to the
Cape, urged him forward, and he accordingly struck his tents, and
moved once more towards the north. Courage and intrepidity are of vast
importance in every circumstance of life, in none more so than in
the circumstances in which an African traveller is placed; but these
virtues will not draw wagons, or silence the murmurs of the appetite
when clamouring for food. Le Vaillant was prepared to endure, and he
cheerfully abandoned his chariots in the desert when oxen were wanting
to drag them along; but he abandoned at the same time much of that
merchandise with which he was accustomed to purchase the friendship and
aid of the savage, and from that moment all rational hope of traversing
the whole continent, from the Cape of Good Hope to the Mediterranean,
vanished. He continued his journey, however, from the laudable desire
of performing what he could, though what he had projected might prove
impracticable.

Le Vaillant’s difficulties were far from being imaginary. Thirst,
that most maddening of human privations, was now felt once more, and
the parched herbage afforded neither nourishment nor cooling juices
to the cattle. All their hopes now centred in those thunderstorms
which, at certain seasons of the year, are common in southern Africa,
and the jocular extravagance of Aristophanes, who represents men as
cloud-worshippers, was now scarcely an exaggeration: for both our
traveller and his followers almost bowed down in religious adoration
to every cloud that sailed aloft in the blue firmament, and seemed to
announce a tempest. At length vast masses of black vapour began to
gather together in heaps over their heads, and to spread in sombre
files along the sky. Flashes of lightning were perceived on the edge of
the horizon; and all the forerunners of a storm successively presented
themselves to their delighted senses.

It came at length. “I heard,” says the traveller, “the sound of some
large drops, the happy precursors of an abundant shower. All my senses,
dilated at once by joy and gladness, unfolded themselves to the vital
influence. I crept out from under my covering, and lying down on my
back, with my mouth open, I received with delight the drops which
chanced to fall on me, every one of which seemed to be a refreshing
balm to my parched lips and tongue. I repeat it, the purest pleasure
of my whole life was what I tasted in that delicious moment, which
had been purchased by so many sighs and hours of anguish. It was not
long before the shower poured down from all sides; during three hours
it fell in torrents, seeming in noise to rival the thunder, which all
the while continued roaring over our heads. My people ran about in all
directions through the storm, seeking for one another, with triumphant
mutual congratulations for the drenching they experienced; for they
felt themselves revived; and appeared as if desirous of inflating
their bodies that they might thus offer a larger surface to the rain,
and imbibe a greater quantity of it. For my own part, I enjoyed so
delicious a pleasure in soaking myself like them, that, in order the
longer to preserve the refreshing coolness, I would not at first change
my dress, which I was at length, however, compelled to do by the cold.”

On the following night one of his followers disappeared, a circumstance
which, as they were now in the country of the Bushmen, to whom it was
possible the fugitive might betray them, was a source of peculiar
uneasiness. However, after causing considerable alarm among the whole
party, each of whom indulged a different conjecture, the man returned,
announcing the discovery of a Hottentot kraal at no great distance.
Towards this spot the whole party immediately proceeded, again and
again quenching their thirst on the way, in reservoirs of crystal
purity, which had been formed in the hollows of the rocks by the recent
storm. Arrived, Le Vaillant found that the horde of which they had come
in search was fortunately that of a man to whom he had been strongly
recommended by a friend at the Cape. He was received with hospitality.
The chief, flattered by the visit, undertook for a time to become his
guide; and having generously and successfully exerted himself for
the recovery of the chariots abandoned in the desert, and performed
numerous other kind offices for his guest, the caravan was once more
put in motion.

In the evening, on their arriving at the halting-place, Le Vaillant
observed with surprise a tent, guarded by Hottentots, pitched a
little in advance of him; and upon inquiry, found that it belonged to
a M. Pinard, one of the individuals he had rejected at Cape Town. A
presentiment of evil immediately flashed upon his mind. He regarded
the tent with inquietude. Misfortune seemed to perch upon its summit.
And in the sequel he learned, with vexation, how well-founded his
apprehensions had been. However, for the moment, the encounter seemed
to offer nothing but pleasure. Pinard was the bearer of letters from
some of his dearest friends, and to a man of sound feelings a person
thus armed is irresistible; but to an evil disposition the very
counterfeiting of goodness is too painful long to be endured. Our Dutch
adventurer, whose wealth chiefly consisted in brandy, a commodity which
experience had taught him was omnipotent with Hottentots, seemed to
consider his casks as too weighty, and habitually exerted himself in
diminishing the burden. In one word, he was a drunkard; and having
indulged himself with an extraordinary dose on the very evening of Le
Vaillant’s arrival, the brandy-casks were abandoned to the Hottentots,
and in a short time both camps were a scene of wild revelry and
intoxication.

To those who have observed the manners of savages, whether in our
own country or in the woods, it must be well known that the Circean
transformations are not fabulous. Brandy has everywhere the power
of changing men into beasts, and into beasts which are the more
dangerous, inasmuch as they retain, under their new forms, a memory
morbidly retentive, which seems to rejoice at its escape from the
restraints of reason. Le Vaillant’s followers, having nothing to
fear from the reproaches of decorum, now plunged into the delights
of drunkenness with an avidity which appeared as if intended as an
imputation on his want of generosity; for they considered his prudent
economy as a niggardly doling out of a necessary of life, brandy being
by them regarded in that light. Though he had given orders that the
caravan should be put in motion at the break of day, the men, with
the exception of Klaas and two or three of his companions, were all
furiously intoxicated before the oxen could be yoked to the wagons.
Even old Swanspoel, who had hitherto conducted himself with prudence,
yielded to the seduction, and endeavouring with reeling steps to mount
the wagon, his foot slipped, and he rolled under the wheel, which
immediately passed over his body. Le Vaillant, who loved the old man,
feared he had been crushed to pieces; but it was afterward found, upon
examination, that he merely had two ribs broken; though this fracture
caused him such terrible anguish on the road, that he conjured his
master, with clasped hands, to blow out his brains with one of his
pistols. As our traveller was utterly ignorant of surgery, it was
necessary to leave the treatment of the fracture to nature. The pain,
meanwhile, was excruciating, and in order to blunt its point, the old
Hottentot continued to drink immoderate quantities of brandy, which, as
it failed to kill him, obtained, in the sequel, the honour of a cure.
In six weeks he was able to resume his occupations.

At length, after enduring his company with a patience which it were
easier to praise than to imitate, he separated from Pinard. He now
discovered another remarkable person, a sailor, who, having deserted
from the Dutch navy, had retired into the wilderness, where he had
adopted, as far as possible, the manners of a savage; married several
wives, by whom he had numerous children, and laid the foundation of
what might have proved a powerful horde. But this individual affords
an example of how difficult it is for the civilized man, of whatever
rank he may be, to retrograde; for, although possessed of considerable
wealth, and, which is still sweeter, of independence, and the germs
of power, he yearned after that society in which he must always be as
nothing; and afterward, upon Le Vaillant’s obtaining him his pardon,
deserted his harem, returned with his children to the colony, married,
and sunk into the dull lethargy of ordinary Dutch life.

This man, whose name was Shoenmaker, became our traveller’s guide
through the neighbouring regions. They continued still to advance
towards the north, passed through the countries of the Lesser and
Greater Namaquas, and arrived at length in the district in which
the giraffe is found. Here all his ardour for the chase was at once
revived by the sight of one of these animals’ skins, which, in one
of the kraals he visited, served as a covering to a hut. A few days
afterward, while he was admiring the nest of the constructor bird, one
of his Namaqua guides came in great haste to inform him that he had
just seen a giraffe browsing upon the leaves of a mimosa-tree. “In an
instant,” says the traveller, “I mounted my horse, being intoxicated
with joy, and causing Bernfry” (a deserter from the colony whom he
encountered in the desert) “to follow my example, I hurried with my
dogs towards the mimosa-tree. The giraffe was no longer there. We saw
her crossing the plain towards the west, and put spurs to our horses
in order to overtake her. She then got into an easy trot, but did not
seem at all hurried. We galloped after her, firing at her from time to
time; but she insensibly gained ground upon us in such a manner that,
after continuing the chase for three hours, we were compelled to stop,
our horses being out of breath, and we immediately lost sight of her.”
He now found himself alone, at a distance from his camp; and, what
was worse, knew not how to shape his course towards it. Meantime he
suffered considerably from thirst and hunger; but having killed and
cooked some birds, his wants were soon satisfied, and he had leisure
for reflection. In the midst of his reveries he was found by some of
his attendants, and conducted back to the camp. Next day the hunting
of the giraffe was continued with equally bad success. On the third
day seven of these animals were discovered, and immediately pursued by
his dogs. “Six of them,” says he, “went off together; but the seventh,
cut off by my pack, took a different direction. Bernfry, who happened
just then to be on foot, immediately vaulted into the saddle, and set
off in pursuit of the former. I pursued the latter at all speed; but in
spite of the swiftness of my horse, she gained upon me so much that, on
turning a small eminence, I lost sight of her, and gave up the chase.
My dogs, however, had quickly overtaken her, and pressed her so closely
that she was compelled to stop in her own defence. From the place where
I was I heard them give tongue with all their might; but as their
voices all appeared to come from the same spot, I conjectured that
they had got the animal into some corner, and I again pushed forwards.
As soon as I had turned the hill, I in fact discovered her surrounded
by the dogs, and making desperate efforts to drive them off by heavy
kicks. In a moment I was on my feet, and a single shot from my carbine
brought her to the earth. Enchanted with my victory, I returned to call
my people about me, that they might skin and cut up the animal. As I
was looking about, I observed Klaas Bastard eagerly making signals
to me, which I could not at first comprehend; but on turning towards
the direction in which he pointed, I perceived a giraffe assailed by
my dogs under an ebony-tree. Supposing it to be another animal, I ran
towards it; but it was the same, which had risen again, and just as I
was about to fire a second time dropped down dead.

“Who could have believed that a conquest like this would have excited
me to a transport almost approaching to madness! Pains, fatigues, cruel
privations, uncertainty as to the future, disgust sometimes as to the
past--all these recollections and feelings fled at the sight of this
new prey. I could not satisfy my desire to contemplate it. I measured
its enormous height. I looked from the animal to the instrument which
had destroyed it. I called and recalled my people about me. Although
we had combated together the largest and the most dangerous animals,
it was I alone who had killed the giraffe. I was now able to add to
the riches of natural history; I was now able to destroy the romance
which attached to this animal, and to establish a truth. My people
congratulated me on my triumph. Bernfry alone was absent; but he came
at last, walking at a slow pace, and holding his horse by the bridle.
He had fallen from his seat, and injured his shoulder. I heard not what
he said to me. I saw not that he wanted assistance; I spoke to him only
of my victory. He showed me his shoulder; I showed him my giraffe. I
was intoxicated, and I should not have thought even of my own wounds.”

He now paid a visit to the Kameniqua horde. His camp abounded with
provisions; but his people, who had for some time been accustomed to
the company of women, drew so many of these fair ones about them, that
it was feared nothing else would be thought of. However, Le Vaillant
was obliged to wink at this irregularity, to prevent the desertion
of the whole body, and his complaisance, as it happened, drew after
it no evil consequences. In proceeding through the country of the
Greater Namaquas he arrived at a kraal, which had been thrown by the
death of its chief into the utmost confusion, and, upon his making
strenuous exertions to restore order, was himself elected chief. This
dignity, however, he delegated to another, and had the satisfaction of
observing, at his departure, tranquillity and good order taking the
place of discord and bloodshed.

Our traveller now drew near the country of the most extraordinary
people which he ever met with during his travels. These were the
Hoozwanas, a nation by the Hottentots confounded with the Bushmen, but
which, in the opinion of Le Vaillant, differed from them entirely;
as while the latter were a collection of vagabonds from all nations,
living in holes and caves, and subsisting chiefly by plunder, the
former were as nearly as possible homogeneous. They differed in a
remarkable manner from the Hottentots in being enterprising and brave,
and enjoyed among their neighbours so great a reputation for these
qualities, that their very name was a talisman which struck terror
into all who heard it. For this reason Le Vaillant could not, in this
instance, pursue his ordinary practice of sending forward native
ambassadors or agents to prepare him a welcome reception among the
horde. At the bare mention of the Hoozwanas his followers and allies
felt their blood curdle with fear, and not only refused to advance
before him, but endeavoured likewise to dissuade him from the attempt,
which, in their opinion, could terminate no otherwise than fatally.

Le Vaillant, who remembered their vain terrors in the case of the
Kaffers, was thoroughly convinced that their present apprehensions
had no better foundation. His wagons and a considerable number of
his attendants had been left encamped on the banks of the Gariep, or
Orange River; he was now resolved rather to dismiss the remainder, and
proceed alone, than shrink from his undertaking; and Klaas and five
of his companions voluntarily engaging to undertake the expedition,
he informed the remainder that they were at liberty to depart, their
services being no longer required. But if they were afraid to advance,
to retreat seemed no less terrible; so that, whipped into enterprise by
their very fears, they one and all announced their readiness to follow
the fortunes of their chief.

He therefore proceeded towards the north; but, while he despised the
fears of his Hottentots, and somewhat doubted the correctness of their
representations, he nevertheless considered it prudent to move along
in a guarded manner, seeing that every thicket might contain an enemy.
For some days silence and solitude prevailed around. There appeared no
traces of man; or if any human beings ever started up in the distance,
it was only to flit immediately away like phantoms among the rocks
and sandhills, leaving behind them strong doubts of the reality of
their apparition. Meanwhile their route led them over a burning desert,
covered with saline dust, which, lifted up by the winds, entered
their eyes and almost maddened them. The vehement heat of the sun,
from which no contrivance could wholly shield them, likewise began to
disorder their senses and their imaginations; so that, like mariners in
a calenture, they saw mountains, green fields, or groves, or running
streams, where in reality there was nothing but a prodigious plateau of
scorching sand.

At length, upon halting in the evening, they observed, as the darkness
came on, several vast fires among the peaks of the distant hills, which
they doubted not belonged to the Hoozwanas. With this discovery all
their old terrors returned. The watch, therefore, it may be easily
imagined, was vigilant that night; and as soon as the morning appeared,
Le Vaillant, taking a few of his attendants along with him, proceeded
to reconnoitre. The scene which now presented itself was desolate
beyond description. Steep ridges of barren rock, rising from a plain of
sand, and broken into ravines, gullies, chasms, precipices; beyond a
few stunted, miserable plants, no signs of life; while a dead silence
brooded over all, save when the wild daman sent forth its shrill cry
from among the rocks, or when the vulture or the eagle screamed aloft
over their heads.

After a fatiguing march through these savage mountains, they reached
a slender stream which flowed from a narrow opening in the rocks, and
discovered upon its banks a small Hoozwana encampment. No persons but
a few women were visible; but upon their uttering a cry of alarm, the
men immediately rushed out, armed with bows and arrows, and taking
their families along with them, retreated, and took up their position
on a small eminence commanding their huts. Failing to make himself
understood by the ordinary signs of friendship and good-will, he
advanced towards their huts, deposited a quantity of beads and tobacco,
and then retired to observe their movements. When they considered
him at a sufficient distance, they returned, and upon examining the
presents exhibited tokens of extraordinary satisfaction; but upon the
approach of the traveller a second time they again retreated, though
to a smaller distance than before. He now resolved to endeavour, by
going forward alone and unarmed, to remove their apprehensions; and,
taking in his hand a new present, he proceeded towards them. This
manœuvre succeeded. One of the savages immediately came to meet him;
and addressing him in the Hottentot language, demanded who he was, and
whence he came. Le Vaillant replied that he was a traveller, desirous
of examining the country, and, if possible, of finding friends in it.
The man then came up to him. The Hottentots likewise drew near, and
entered into conversation with the stranger, who, they found, belonged
to their nation. Observing that no evil had befallen their friend, the
remainder of the horde now joined the group, and were rendered, by a
few trifling presents, as friendly and peaceful in their deportment as
the least ferocious of the Hottentot tribes.

The manners of this people were remarkable. They remained in their
rocky fastnesses, to which they were habitually confined by the
hostility of their neighbours, as long as the gazelles, white ants, or
locusts, which abound in those districts, afforded them provisions.
When a scarcity happened, however, then wo to the surrounding nations.
They stood upon the lofty summits of their mountains, and casting their
eyes around, selected for the scene of their desperate foray the region
which presented the richest aspect. Flocks and herds were seized, and
killed upon the spot, or driven to the mountains, as circumstances
required; but, unless when attacked and put in actual peril, the
Hoozwanas abstained from shedding human blood. Their appearance, when
engaged in war, was peculiarly striking. Naked, excepting that small
portion of the body which instinct alone teaches man to conceal, they
yet wore a species of helmet or war-cap on their heads, upon which
there was a crest formed of the hyena’s mane. Though considerably below
the middle size, their well-formed active bodies, and daring character,
the evidence of which was deeply written in their countenance,
admirably fitted them for warriors. In peace, however, no men could
exhibit more gentleness, or regard for strangers; and our traveller
observes, that had he attempted the traversing the African continent
from the Cape to the Mediterranean, he should have chiefly founded his
hopes of success on the active, faithful character of the Hoozwanas.

The Hoozwana women exhibited that peculiar conformation of the nates
which is generally supposed to be a characteristic of the Hottentot
race. With the latter, however, it is the growth of years, and
commences only at a late period of life; while in the former it is
a portion of the original form with which the infant is born, and
which increases merely in proportion as the whole body is developed.
Upon this strange projection mothers carry their children, which,
when two or three years old, stand upon it as a footman does behind a
carriage. But, notwithstanding that they were in this respect deformed,
they possessed hands and arms of extraordinary beauty. They wore the
war-bonnet and sandals like their husbands; but were in other respects
naked, with the exception of a small apron. A small wooden, ivory, or
tortoise-shell case hung by their side, in which they carried their
ointment; and the tail of some small animal, fastened on a staff,
served, instead of a pocket handkerchief, to wipe away the dust or
perspiration from their faces.

Having spent some time in the country of the Hoozwanas, he bent his
course towards his camp on the Gariep, his gallant hosts serving him as
guides across the mountains. In the course of the journey one of the
oxen threw from off its back the box of toys and cutlery, which, making
a frightful clatter, terrified the animal, which ran off roaring in a
furious manner. Le Vaillant, in endeavouring to force it back, found
himself engaged in a dangerous adventure; for, instead of returning
towards his companions, it rushed impetuously at the horse, which,
springing suddenly aside, threw his rider and took to flight. The ox
now rushed with stooping head at the traveller, who, having fortunately
fallen with his musket in his hand, pointed his piece, and carefully
levelling it at his enemy, fired, and shot him dead upon the spot.

This accident seemed to be merely the forerunner of that which happened
immediately after his arrival at the camp. He had crossed the Gariep
with his tents and baggage; but the oxen, never having seen so broad a
stream, could by no means whatever be induced to attempt the passage.
They resisted all the efforts of their drivers, and even their very
blows seemed to render them more stubborn. It was therefore determined
to take them farther up the stream, and renew their endeavours next
morning. The herdsmen, however, rendered heedless or confident by the
vicinity of the camp, fell asleep, and allowed their fires to die away.
At this moment the Bushmen, who had been lying in wait for them, stole
quietly into the circle, and, driving off the oxen, escaped, and before
the break of day were already far on their way towards their secret
haunts.

Next morning, early, Le Vaillant was suddenly awakened by Klaas, who
informed him of what had happened; and counselled him to arm a number
of his followers, and pursue the robbers. This advice was instantly
adopted. He took thirteen of the bravest, and following the track of
the oxen, which was visible enough upon the sand, during six hours,
found that it struck off from the river. Here they passed the night.
Next morning before day they continued the pursuit, and finding that
the herd had been divided into two parts, pursued the track of the
more numerous, not doubting that the division had been made merely
for the purpose of distracting their attention. From a Hottentot
village by which they passed they obtained two guides, who, being
perfectly acquainted with the country, undertook to conduct them to the
hiding-places of the Bushmen. They therefore again set forward, and
after tracking the robbers for several leagues, found that they had
crossed the river, in which they discovered the body of one of the oxen
which had been drowned in the passage. The stream being here deep and
rapid rendered the passage both difficult and dangerous. They, however,
succeeded in gaining the opposite shore, but what was their vexation
when, having ascended a short distance up the river, it was perceived
that the artful bandits had again crossed, and were therefore on the
other side. This manœuvre was repeated three times, for so frequently
had the Bushmen crossed and recrossed the stream. But at length the
track was lost in the path leading to a kraal, in which, therefore,
they concluded the oxen must be concealed.

The guides, fearful lest their presence among the traveller’s
attendants might occasion a war between these bandits and their
nation, here demanded permission to remain behind during the attack
upon the kraal, and their request was unhappily complied with. Le
Vaillant himself, conceiving that darkness would be favourable to
his views, resolved to defer the execution of his project until
night. They accordingly encamped upon the spot, and a little after
midnight set off in the greatest silence. “Soon afterward,” says he,
“we perceived, at the distance of about three-quarters of a league,
the light of several fires; and advancing a little farther, we heard
songs, cries of joy, and immoderate shouts of laughter. The bandits
were amusing themselves, and making good cheer at my expense. Their
clamour, however, had one good effect; for my dogs began to set up so
loud a barking on drawing near the kraal, that it became necessary to
muzzle them, so that but for the frightful tumult within we should
infallibly have been betrayed. I was now, therefore, in a state of
warfare with savages, and resolved to employ against them the resources
of art, should they oppose me with superior force. The moment not being
favourable for commencing the attack, I put it off until the break
of day, and in order to conduct it in the most advantageous manner,
I intrenched myself and my troop behind a copse, which, by affording
us an impenetrable shield against the attacks of our enemies, would
render our own doubly terrible. The copse, in fact, was sufficiently
extensive to contain and conceal all my musketeers; and each of us, by
pushing aside or breaking off a few branches, immediately formed a sort
of porthole through which we could fire. In this position we patiently
and silently awaited the moment for action. The villains themselves
appeared, by their conduct, to favour our views. Their noisy merriment
died away by degrees; and at length, yielding to fatigue, they retired
into their huts to rest, and the noise entirely ceased.

“The day soon appeared, when we discovered that the position we had
taken up was too far from the kraal. Leaving our oxen, and my two
horses, ready saddled in case of a defeat, behind the bushes, under the
care of one of my people, we advanced, therefore, and posted ourselves
within gunshot of the kraal. It was a considerable hamlet, consisting
of not less than thirty or forty huts, and occupied the slope of a
hill, behind which a range of high mountains swept round in the form
of an amphitheatre. Though our muskets were all loaded, it was not
my intention to commence hostilities with the effusion of blood. I
designed merely to alarm the brigands, and by the consternation caused
by a sudden attack, to compel them to take to flight. For this reason
I commanded my followers to fire in the air, and on no account to take
aim at a single individual unless by my express orders. I began the
assault by firing my large carbine, the report of which, multiplied by
the echoes of the neighbouring mountains, produced a terrible noise.
We had persuaded ourselves that at the sound of this thunder the whole
horde would fly in consternation, and my companions were preparing to
augment their terrors by a general discharge. But, to our astonishment,
not a creature appeared. It was in vain that we fired round after
round; every thing remained calm, and I knew not what to conjecture.
This security was merely apparent. While external appearances announced
sleep and peace, every soul within was given up to terror and
confusion. But by a stratagem to which they, no doubt, had been long
accustomed, no one wished to appear before the whole body were armed;
and it is probable that they communicated with each other by signals.
When they were ready for battle, they all at the same moment rushed out
of their huts, and advancing with frightful howlings towards us, let
fly a cloud of arrows, which falling far short of their mark, we still
replied to by firing over their heads. Observing that none of their
party were hurt, they began to imagine that our muskets would not carry
so far, and therefore uniting into one body, they came on with fury. We
awaited the assault with firmness. My people, in the mean time, called
aloud to them to restore my oxen. Whether they heard us or not I cannot
determine; but they had now advanced so near that their arrows fell
about us in showers. I now thought it full time to fire in earnest,
and issuing my orders to aim at their bodies, we fired several volleys
in rapid succession, and had very quickly the satisfaction to see
this numerous band of men scattered about like emmets, flying in all
directions, and uttering fearful shrieks, which were no longer, as at
first, cries of valour and defiance, but the howlings of despair. Their
wives and children had retreated, during the combat, to the summit of
the hill, where the oxen were grazing; and it was thither that they
now fled; whence, having rapidly collected the cattle, they plunged
down into the hollow on the opposite side, and disappeared. Being well
persuaded that, should they once reach the defiles of the mountains,
all pursuit would be vain, I mounted my horse, and dividing my men into
two bodies, directed one party to cut off their retreat on one side,
while I myself with the remainder should attack them on the other. It
was not many minutes before we discovered the savages hurrying down the
hill towards a plain, in which there was a small wood; and, in fact,
the greater number of them quickly disappeared a second time, but those
who drove the cattle were necessarily more slow, and seeing us close
upon their heels, they likewise took to flight, leaving the oxen behind
them. At this moment my other detachment coming up, fired at them, and
stretched one of their number upon the earth. The rest escaped.”

Having thus regained possession of his cattle, and fearing he might
fall into some ambush laid for him by the savages, he hastened back
to the kraal, where he found their own herd. In lieu of one of the
oxen which had been killed and eaten, he took away a young cow and two
sheep, and hurried towards the spot where he had left his Kameniqua
guides. Here he was shocked by a very horrible spectacle. One of the
men had been torn to pieces during the night, and the other likewise
had suffered severely. They had, in fact, neglected to keep alive their
fire, and had been attacked by a lion in their sleep. Le Vaillant
caused them to be placed upon his horses, and carried along with them;
but abandoned the dying man at the first halting-place. The other
eventually recovered.

Though dogged all the way by the Bushmen, he reached his camp in
safety, from whence, having now entirely abandoned the idea of
traversing the African continent, he turned his face southwards, and
directed his course towards the Cape. His constitution had considerably
suffered during this journey, and he suddenly began to experience
unequivocal symptoms of illness. While he was in this condition he
encountered a white family, who, having endured signal misfortunes in
the world, had succeeded in snapping asunder the links which ordinarily
bind men to society, and were now, with a few Hottentot servants, and a
wagon which contained all their worldly possessions, proceeding towards
Namaqua-land in search of a better fortune than they had hitherto met
with. Le Vaillant, who could easily read indolence and inactivity in
the countenance of the father, was still deeply interested in his
fate, by an air of goodness which accompanied the indication of those
qualities; and anticipating the consent of the owner, he bestowed upon
them a small house and ground in the vicinity, four sheep, a goat,
a dog, together with a quantity of toys and cutlery, wherewith to
purchase the friendship of the savages. With these riches they departed
on their way, blessing the friendly hand which had enabled them to live
in comfort, and praying for the happiness of him who, under Providence,
had been the creator of theirs.

He now pushed forward to the banks of the Kansi, where his progress
was put a stop to by a buinsy, accompanied by violent fever. This
disease is generally mortal in Africa. Of this circumstance he was
perfectly aware, and accordingly from the beginning began to fear the
worst, and gave himself up for lost. But his followers, who, with
ignorance of physic equal to his own, indulged more sanguine hopes,
requested his permission to apply the only remedy known among them;
and having obtained his consent, applied round his neck towels dipped
in boiling milk, until the skin was nearly scalded off. This treatment
was continued during three days; but finding no benefit from it, he
abandoned the physicians, and resolved to leave the whole to nature.
Meanwhile his condition was alarming. His throat and tongue were so
much swelled that he could swallow nothing but a few drops of weak tea,
and at length lost entirely the power of speaking, except by signs.
The fears of his Hottentots were no less than his own. When Klaas or
Swanspoel entered his tent, the other attendants would thrust their
black woolly heads in after them, in the expectation of gathering
from their looks whether there was still any hope. Such was the state
of the case when several persons of the Lesser Namaqua horde arrived
in the camp, among the rest a little man, who, when informed of the
disorder of the chief, immediately undertook his cure. Our traveller,
willing to make trial of every means within his power, permitted the
Hottentot Æsculapius to treat him as he pleased; and had once more to
endure a hot cataplasm on his throat, which, together with a gargle of
sage-juice, formed the whole remedy. In the course of one night his
freedom of respiration and the power of swallowing were restored, and
in three days he was well.

This danger being over, Le Vaillant returned to the Cape, dismissed his
Hottentots, and taking leave of his South African friends, set sail
for Europe, July 14th, 1784. He arrived in Paris in the beginning
of the January following, and from thenceforward his whole life was
occupied in putting his collections in order, in compiling the account
of his travels, and in composing the various works which he afterward
published or left in MS. on the natural history of the birds and
quadrupeds of Africa.--Though his occupations were thus simple and
peaceful, he was not able during the stormy days of the Revolution
to escape unsuspected; he was apprehended and imprisoned in 1793,
and is supposed to have escaped the guillotine only by the fall of
Robespierre. His habitual residence during the latter part of his life
was on a small estate that he possessed at La Noue, near Sezanne.
There, when not engaged in his literary labours, he amused himself with
hunting; and in this manner he lived during nearly thirty years. He
died on the 22d of November, 1824. During the whole of that time he had
seldom quitted his retreat to visit Paris, except for the purpose of
seeing his works through the press. His “Travels,” upon which his hopes
of fame must chiefly rest, appear to have occupied him nearly eleven
years, the first part having been published in 1790, and the second in
1796. It has often been asserted, says M. Eyriès, that these travels
were compiled from the author’s notes by Casimir Varron but this is a
mistake; he merely read the proof sheets for the purpose of correction,
Le Vaillant not being sufficiently acquainted with the French language
to enable him to confide in his own judgment.

It was Le Vaillant who first made the giraffe known in France, and the
stuffed specimen in the king’s collection is the one which was brought
over by him. His other works are, “The Natural History of the Birds of
Africa,” of the parroquet, and of the birds of Paradise. The figures,
designed under his inspection by Barraband, are said to possess great
merit; and his scientific works occupy the first rank among books of
that kind.



BELZONI.


This able and interesting traveller, descended from a respectable
Roman family, was born at Padua, whither his relations had many years
previously removed. Being designed by his parents for some monastic
order, he was at a very early age sent to Rome, the original abode of
his ancestors, where he received his education, and spent the greater
part of his youth. Here the sciences would appear to have obtained
a decided preference in his mind, over every other branch of study;
particularly hydraulics, to which he owed the reputation which he
afterward acquired in the world, and a success which was by no means
equal to his deserts. The invasion of Italy, and the capture of Rome by
the French, disturbed the peaceful but insignificant plan of life which
he had traced out for himself. Instead of a monk he became a traveller.
Departing from Rome in the year 1800, he for some time wandered about
the Continent, deriving his subsistence, as he himself observes, from
his own knowledge and industry, and occasional remittances from his
family, who, though by no means wealthy, seem to have been generously
disposed to afford him a support, which he, in a short time, no less
generously refused to accept.

In the year 1803 he arrived in England, where he not long afterward
married. In this country he supported himself, as is well known, by
performing in public feats of prodigious strength, and by scientific
exhibitions; still, with a manly independence, preferring the gaining
of a precarious subsistence by these means to the idea of draining the
slender resources of his family, or of resorting to those more easy
but less reputable sources of gain which too frequently employ the
talents of foreigners in England. Having remained nine years in Great
Britain, Belzoni conceived the desire of visiting the south of Europe;
and, taking his wife along with him, travelled through Portugal, Spain,
and Malta. It seems to have been during this part of his travels that
he learned, from what he considered unexceptionable authority, that his
scientific knowledge might be turned to good account in Egypt, where an
hydraulic machine would be of the greatest utility in irrigating the
fields, which want water only to make them produce at any season of the
year.

He accordingly took his passage on board of some ship bound for Egypt,
and arrived in the harbour of Alexandria on the 9th of June, 1815. The
plague, he was informed, was now in the city, but gradually decreasing
in malignity. St. John’s day, the 24th of June, was likewise at hand,
on which it usually ceases entirely, through the interference, as the
vulgar believe, of the saint, but in reality from the intense heat of
the sun, which has by that time exhaled those damp miasmata which are
the immediate cause of the plague. Belzoni, who was accompanied by his
wife and a young Irish lad, named Curtain, landed, notwithstanding the
disease; and having remained secluded in the occale, or khun, until
after the 24th, set off for Cairo. On reaching this city, where he
meant to make an offer of his services to the pasha, to whose principal
interpreter he brought letters of recommendation, he obtained lodgings
in an old house, which from its vast size and ruinous condition would
have made a handsome figure in one of Mrs. Ratcliffe’s romances. Though
antiquities, as he observes, were not at that time his object, he could
not refrain from visiting the Pyramids. He accordingly accompanied an
English gentleman to the spot, where they passed the night, and long
before dawn had ascended the summit of the highest pile, to behold the
sun rise over the land of Egypt.

“The scene here,” says he, “is majestic and grand far beyond
description: a mist over the plains of Egypt formed a veil, which
ascended and vanished gradually as the sun rose, and unveiled to the
view that beautiful land, once the site of Memphis. The distant view
of the smaller pyramids on the south marked the extension of that vast
capital; while the solemn endless spectacle of the desert, on the west,
inspired us with reverence for the all-powerful Creator. The fertile
lands on the north, with the serpentine course of the Nile, descending
towards the sea; the rich appearance of Cairo, and its minarets, at
the foot of the Mokatam mountain, on the east; the beautiful plain
which extends from the Pyramids to that city; the Nile, which flows
magnificently through the centre of the Sacred Valley; and the thick
groves of palm-trees under our eyes, altogether formed a scene of which
a very imperfect idea can be given by the most elaborate description.”

A few days after his return to Cairo he was to have been presented
to the pasha, but on the way to the citadel was attacked and wounded
by a Turkish soldier in such a manner that he was compelled to defer
his presentation for thirty days. Mohammed Ali had not at that time
properly established his power; for, when informed of the injury which
had been inflicted on his guest, he only observed that such accidents
were not to be prevented in cities filled with troops. This point
was very soon made still clearer. In a few days the soldiers burst
out into open rebellion, pillaged the inhabitants, committed every
description of atrocity, and pursued his highness himself into his
castle, where they for some time held him besieged. When this storm
had blown over, Belzoni, whose hydraulic project was highly approved
of by the pasha, commenced the construction of his machine in his
highness’s gardens at Soubra, three miles from Cairo. As Mohammed Ali
is not bigotedly attached to oriental fashions, he freely permitted
Belzoni to be witness of his amusements, which he was sometimes even
called upon to multiply. During his stay at Soubra business frequently
required his presence at Cairo, where, on one occasion, he narrowly
escaped being shot by a Turkish soldier. The ruffian having struck
him in the street, he returned the blow; upon which the Turk drew his
pistol, fired at him, singed his hair, and killed one of his comrades
who happened to be standing behind the traveller. The man was next day
apprehended by the pasha, and never more heard of. When the hydraulic
machine was completed, its power was made trial of in the presence of
Mohammed, who, perceiving that as an innovation it was regarded with
extraordinary dislike by the Turkish and Arabic cultivators, abandoned
the project altogether, without even remunerating the traveller for the
loss of time and money which he had incurred.

Notwithstanding these circumstances, which reflect but little honour
on Mohammed Ali, Belzoni found, upon calculation, that his finances
would still enable him to ascend the Nile as far as Assouan; and was
about to proceed up the country when Burckhardt and Mr. Salt, who had
previously discussed the point together, determined upon the removal
of the colossal head of young Memnon to England, for the purpose of
being presented to the British Museum; and requested our traveller,
as one of the fittest persons that could be thought of, to undertake
the task. The expenses Burckhardt and Mr. Salt were to defray between
them. A report was, it seems, circulated even during the lifetime of
Belzoni, and previous to the publication of his travels, that in this
affair he was merely the paid agent of Mr. Salt (for, as a professed
Mohammedan, Burckhardt did not choose to appear). This, however, was
clearly not the case. The expenses incurred in the undertaking they
could do no other than defray. Mr. Salt’s instructions are written,
as Belzoni himself observes, in an assuming style, but nevertheless
have not the air of being addressed to a paid agent. But the testimony
of Sheïkh Burckhardt, which I insert in justice to the memory of an
enterprising and worthy man, completely sets the matter at rest. In
a letter addressed to the African Association, dated Cairo, February
20th, 1817, he says, “You will be pleased to hear that the colossal
head from Thebes has at last, after many difficulties, safely arrived
at Alexandria. Mr. Belzoni, who offered himself to undertake this
commission, has executed it with great spirit, intelligence, and
perseverance. The head is waiting now at Alexandria for a proper
conveyance to Malta. Mr. Salt and myself have borne the expenses
jointly; and the trouble of the undertaking has devolved upon Mr.
Belzoni, whose name I wish to be mentioned, if ever ours shall, on this
occasion, because he was actuated by public spirit fully as much as
ourselves.”

Few things are more interesting in themselves, or less captivating
in description, than a search after antiquities. Belzoni, after
visiting Hermontis and Dendara, arrived at Thebes, which, from the
time of Germanicus to the present moment, has excited the wonder and
admiration of every traveller who has beheld it. “It is absolutely
impossible,” says Belzoni, “to imagine the scene displayed, without
seeing it. The most sublime ideas that can be formed from the most
magnificent specimens of our present architecture would give a very
incorrect picture of these ruins; for such is the difference, not only
in magnitude, but in form, proportion, and construction, that even the
pencil can convey but a faint idea of the whole. It appeared to me
like entering a city of giants, who, after a long conflict, were all
destroyed, leaving the ruins of their various temples as the only proof
of their existence.”

After a brief examination of these mighty ruins, he crossed to
the western bank of the Nile, where, amid the vast remains of the
Memnonium, was the colossal head which he was to remove. He found it,
he says, near the remains of its body and chair, with its face upwards,
and apparently smiling on him at the thought of being taken to England.
The implements which he had brought from Cairo were sufficiently
simple: fourteen poles, eight of which were employed in making a sort
of car to lay the bust on, four ropes of palm-leaves, and four rollers,
without tackle of any sort. Their boat lying too far to be used as a
lodging every night, they established themselves in the Memnonium,
where, as the traveller remarks, they were handsomely lodged in a small
hut formed of stones. Mrs. Belzoni seems, in fact, to have been as
enterprising and romantic as her husband, and made no difficulty about
the rudeness of their accommodation. Into a detail of his laborious
exertions, or those of the Arabs in conveying the head to the Nile, I
do not think it necessary to enter. It will be sufficient to state,
that after incredible toil and perseverance, it was at length brought
to the edge of the stream on the 12th of August, 1816.

This object being effected, he made an excursion to the sepulchral
excavations in the mountain of Gornou, celebrated for the quantity of
mummies which they contain. Into this vast labyrinth he entered with
two Arabs and his interpreter. They were in search of a sarcophagus
which was said to have been discovered by Drovetti; but, in roaming
about amid the dreary passages, lost their way, which, without
extraordinary good fortune, might have been the first step to losing
their lives. In labouring to find a passage out, they came to a small
aperture, through which the interpreter and one of the Arabs passed
easily, but Belzoni, who was a very large man, found it too small.
“One of the Arabs, however, succeeded, as did my interpreter; and it
was then agreed,” says he, “that I and the other Arab should wait till
their return. They proceeded evidently to a great distance, for the
light disappeared, and only a murmuring sound from their voices could
be distinguished as they went on. After a few moments I heard a loud
noise, and the interpreter distinctly crying, ‘O mon Dieu! O mon Dieu!
je suis perdu!’ after which a profound silence ensued. I asked my Arab
whether he had ever been in that place. He replied, ‘Never.’ I could
not conceive what could have happened, and thought the best plan was to
return to procure help from the other Arabs. Accordingly, I told my man
to show me the way out again; but, staring at me like an idiot, he said
he did not know the road. I called repeatedly to the interpreter, but
received no answer. I watched a long time, but no one returned, and my
situation was no very pleasant one.”

At length, however, by dint of laborious perseverance, they issued into
upper air; and as the sarcophagus, which they had discovered, could not
at that moment be removed, our traveller conceived the design of making
a small excursion into Nubia. Accordingly, he proceeded up the river
to Assouan, where, after much altercation, he procured a fresh boat to
carry him to the second cataract. He admired, in passing, the beautiful
island of Phile, rich in the ruins of antiquity. On the next day
several natives, armed with spears and shields of crocodile skins, came
in boats to attack them on the river; but observing them, Mrs. Belzoni
and all, to be armed with pistols, they very prudently retired. At
Deir, the capital of Lower Nubia, our traveller purchased with a small
looking-glass permission to continue his voyage. Previous to this,
many of the people of the country had never enjoyed the gratification
of contemplating the reflection of their own countenances, unless,
like Polypheme, they made a mirror of the glassy stream. On arriving
at Ipsambul, he saw with amazement the great rock-temple discovered
by Burckhardt. He immediately conceived the design of clearing away
the sand which obstructed the entrance into the temple, and made the
proposal to the villagers, promising, in order to excite them to the
task, a present in money; but soon found that he had at length arrived
in a region where money had ceased to be omnipotent. The people stared
at his piasters as they would have stared at a letter in an unknown
language, and inquired who would give them any thing for such small
bits of metal as those? However, he by degrees succeeded in convincing
them that money possessed over civilized men, and all who came within
their influence, a mysterious power which they could not resist, and
thus awakened in their souls the “accursed thirst of gold.” This
seemed at first to produce a good effect; but the love of money once
excited, they knew not where to stop; and their avarice, which he had
reckoned his best ally, soon exhausted his means, so that before he had
half-completed his undertaking he was compelled to desist, and continue
his voyage up the Nile to Ibrim and the first cataract.

Having gratified his curiosity with a glance at these celebrated spots,
Belzoni returned to Assouan, and from thence proceeded to Thebes,
where he immediately put in train the measures necessary for conveying
down the river the Memnon’s head, and various other antiquities. The
obstacles which were thrown in his way by the obstinacy of the natives,
and the intrigues of Drovetti, and other collectors of antiquities,
were numerous, and highly disgraceful to their originators.
Nevertheless, on the 17th of November, 1816, he succeeded in placing
the head on board of a boat, in which he set sail on the 21st for
Cairo, where he arrived on the 15th of December, after a voyage of
twenty-four days. All professions reckon among their members many
knaves and many fools; but the antiquarians with whom Belzoni came in
contact deserved, in several instances, to be sent to the galleys. His
labours were, as a matter of course, depreciated by several foreigners
of this cast, who absurdly misrepresented his researches. In this
number must be reckoned Count Forbin, who was frightened away from
Thebes by beholding the apparition of an English waiting-maid in a
blue pelisse among the ruins. This gentleman, in his absurd “Travels,”
represents our traveller as having employed six months in placing the
colossal bust on board the boat, although he knew, or should have
known, that the operation did not occupy a sixth part of that time. The
origin of this contemptible fiction was the jealousy which the idea
of seeing this extraordinary piece of antiquity in the possession of
the English inspired. An able writer in the Quarterly Review, after
animadverting in a very spirited manner upon the meanness of these
proceedings, observes, “But detraction, it would appear, is not all
that Mr. Belzoni has had to sustain from this irrational jealousy. M.
Drovetti, French consul, has, as Count Forbin observes, two agents at
Thebes,--the one a Mameluke, named Yousuf, originally a drummer in the
French army; the other a Marseillese renegade of the name of Riffo,
‘small in stature, bold, enterprising, and choleric; beating the Arabs
because they had neither time nor taste to understand the Provençal
language.’ These persons are more than suspected of being concerned
in a plot against the life of Mr. Belzoni, who was recently fired at
from behind a wall, while employed in his researches among the ruins
of Carnac, where these two fellows were then known to be lurking. The
affair has been brought before the Consular Court at Cairo; and we
trust that M. Drovetti, for the sake of his own character and that of
his country, will not interfere with the judicial proceedings, nor
attempt to shelter his agents from the punishment which awaits them.”

From Cairo Belzoni proceeded with the bust down the Nile to Rosetta and
Alexandria; from whence, after having placed his charge in the pasha’s
warehouses, he quickly returned, for the purpose of proceeding on a
second voyage up the Nile. It was on this occasion that he had the good
fortune to become known to Mr. Briggs, with whom he returned to Cairo.
Captain Caviglia had at this period commenced his researches in the
interior of the first pyramid of Ghizeh; but was about to discontinue
them for lack of means, when Mr. Briggs munificently engaged to furnish
funds for the purpose, in which he was seconded by Mr. Salt. It was
proposed by this latter gentleman that Belzoni should join Captain
Caviglia in his researches; but our traveller, with commendable
ambition, preferred some undertaking in which all the credit should
redound to himself; and, having left his wife at the house of a friend
at Cairo, he once more ascended the Nile, accompanied by Mr. Beechey,
to whom he had been introduced at Alexandria.

At Eraramoun, near Ashmouneir, Belzoni obtained intelligence that two
agents of M. Drovetti were hurrying on towards Thebes, in the hope of
forestalling him in the purchase of antiquities; upon which he hired
two asses, and, leaving Mr. Beechey to come up slowly with the boat,
hurried off by night. On reaching the ruins, after an incredibly
fatiguing journey of five days, he found that, although the agents were
not arrived, Mr. Salt’s neglect, in not paving the way with a handsome
present, had so completely irritated the bey, that he had appropriated
to the French ex-consul the very ground upon which Belzoni had
commenced his excavations during his first journey. Into the details
of these wretched squabbles, which it is humiliating to the lovers of
art even to peruse, I shall of course not enter. Belzoni, it should be
observed, was forced into them much against his feelings; for he was
an educated, liberal, and high-minded man, altogether averse from low
caballing and intrigue, which appear to have formed the native element
of Drovetti and his congenial coadjutor, the Count de Forbin.

The most interesting transaction, perhaps, in which our traveller was
anywhere engaged, was his visit to the Necropolis of Thebes, in the
mountain of Gournou. This is a tract of about two miles in length, at
the foot of the Libyan ridge. Every part of these rocks is scooped out
into a sepulchre, which, however close it may be to other sepulchral
chambers, has rarely any interior communication with them. It is
impossible, as Belzoni observes, to convey by description an adequate
idea of these subterraneous abodes and their inhabitants. No other
sepulchres in the world resemble them. There are no excavations or
mines that can be compared with those astonishing places, which, when
once seen, for ever after haunt the imagination, like a glimpse of the
regions beyond the grave. Few travellers see more of these catacombs
than the exterior chambers, from which the dead have been removed.
In the interior sepulchres the air is suffocating, and frequently
causes fainting. The dust of decayed mummies, which is so fine that
it quickly penetrates in vast quantities to the lungs, and causes a
difficulty of respiration; the strong effluvia of decomposed bodies;
the dark, dismal, lonesome nature of the place;--every thing tends to
discourage the intruder. Belzoni was not, however, to be deterred. In
describing the difficulties which he here encountered, he observes, “In
some places there is not more than the vacancy of a foot left, which
you must contrive to pass through in a creeping posture, like a snail,
on pointed and keen stones that cut like glass. After getting through
these passages, some of them two or three hundred yards long, you
generally find a more commodious place, perhaps high enough to sit.
But what a place of rest! surrounded by bodies, by heaps of mummies, in
all directions, which, previous to my being accustomed to the sight,
impressed me with horror. The blackness of the wall; the faint light
given by the candles or torches for want of air; the different objects
that surrounded me seeming to converse with each other; and the Arabs
with the candles or torches in their hands, naked and covered with
dust, themselves resembling living mummies,--absolutely formed a scene
that cannot be described. In such a situation I found myself several
times, and often returned exhausted and fainting, till at last I became
inured to it, and indifferent to what I suffered except from the dust,
which never failed to choke my throat and nose; and though fortunately
I am destitute of the sense of smelling, I could taste that the mummies
were rather unpleasant to swallow. After the exertion of entering into
such a place, through a passage of fifty, a hundred, three hundred, or
perhaps six hundred yards, nearly overcome, I sought a resting-place,
found one, and contrived to sit; but when my weight bore on the body
of an Egyptian, it crushed it like a bandbox. I naturally had recourse
to my hands to sustain my weight, but they found no better support; so
that I sank altogether among the broken mummies, with a crash of bones,
rags, and wooden cases, which raised such a dust as kept me motionless
for a quarter of an hour, waiting till it subsided again. I could not
move from the place, however, without increasing it, and every step
I took crushed a mummy in some part or other. Once I was conducted
from such a place to another resembling it, through a passage of about
twenty feet in length, and no wider than that the body could be forced
through. It was choked with mummies, and I could not pass without
putting my face in contact with that of some decayed Egyptian; but as
the passage inclined downwards, my own weight helped me on. However, I
could not help being covered with bones, legs, arms, and heads, rolling
from above. Thus I proceeded from one cave to another, all full of
mummies, piled up in various ways, some standing, some lying, and some
on their heads. The purpose of my researches was to rob the Egyptians
of their papyri, of which I found a few hidden in their breasts, under
their arms, and in the space above the knees, or on the legs, and
covered by the numerous folds of cloth that envelop the mummy.”

Belzoni continued indefatigably making new researches both at Gournou
and Carnac, but was at length put to flight by the machinations of
the French, who had succeeded in gaining over to their party the bey
of the province. He then resolved once more to ascend the Nile to
Ipsambul, and was fortunate enough to meet with two English travellers,
Captains Irby and Mangles, who were desirous of performing the same
voyage. They hired a boat between them at Philo, where they celebrated
the birth-day of George the Third, and setting out together in high
spirits, visited the second cataract, and then returned to Ipsambul.
Here the wrong-headedness and quarrelsome disposition of the Nubians
considerably obstructed their labours in clearing away the entrance
to the temple. But at length, having dismissed the native labourers,
and undertaken the task themselves, they succeeded, and enjoyed the
satisfaction of beholding one of the most perfect and beautiful
rock-temples in the world.

Having completed this laborious operation, our traveller returned to
his old station at Thebes, where he continued his researches in the
valley of Beban el Malook. Here, among other remarkable antiquities,
he discovered one relic of the ancient world, which certainly appears
to rank among the most beautiful that have ever been exhumed. “It is,”
says he, “a sarcophagus of the finest oriental alabaster, nine feet
five inches long, and three feet seven inches wide. Its thickness is
only two inches, and it is transparent when a light is placed inside
it. It is minutely sculptured within and without with several hundred
figures which do not exceed two inches in height, and represent, as I
suppose, the whole of the funeral procession and ceremonies relating
to the deceased, united with several emblems, &c. I cannot give an
adequate idea of this beautiful and invaluable piece of antiquity, and
can only say, that nothing has been brought into Europe from Egypt that
can be compared to it. The cover was not there; it had been taken out
and broken into several pieces.”

Of the tomb in which this extraordinary monument was found a model
was many years afterward exhibited in London, and so exceedingly well
executed was the representation, that had it not been for the crowds of
visiters, one might easily have imagined one’s self in the sepulchres
of the Egyptian kings. Belzoni wanted but one thing to render him one
of the greatest antiquarian collectors in the world: this one thing
was money. But for the lack of this, many of his most arduous and
well-planned enterprises came to nothing.

From Thebes, with which he was now as familiar as he was with London,
he some time after this proceeded to Cairo. He had by this time
acquired quite a passion for excavations, tomb-opening, and all those
other pursuits by which travellers aim at diving into the mysteries of
Egyptian manners and arts; and reflecting upon the success of Captain
Caviglia in descending into the well of the Great Pyramid, the project
of attempting the opening of the second occurred to him. It were
beside my purpose to describe the difficulties which he encountered
and overcame in the execution of this design. His labours were
incessant; his expenses considerable; but, at length, after success had
frequently appeared hopeless, the entrance to the interior chambers
was found. “After thirty days’ exertion,” says he, “I had the pleasure
of finding myself in the way to the central chamber of one of the
two great pyramids of Egypt, which have long been the admiration of
beholders!”

This object having been happily effected, Belzoni again set out for
Thebes. There he was made acquainted with the history of a pretended
discovery, which became a motive for a journey to the coast of the
Red Sea. The history of this expedition is given in a very few words
by a writer in the Quarterly Review whom I have already cited. “A
French mineralogist, of the name of Caillaud, had accompanied some
Arab soldiers sent by the pasha of Egypt in search of emeralds among
the mountains between the Nile and the Red Sea. On their return, this
person gave out (as we learn from an intelligent correspondent in the
Malta Gazette) that in this expedition he had discovered the ancient
city of the Ptolemies, the celebrated Bernicé, the great emporium of
Europe and the Indies, of which he gave a magnificent description. Mr.
Belzoni, doubtful of the accuracy of the story, set out from Edfoo,
with one of the former party, to visit the supposed Bernicé; where,
instead of the ruins of 800 houses and three temples, as stated by M.
Caillaud, he could find no more than eighty-seven scattered houses,
or rather cells; the greater number of which did not exceed _ten feet
square_, built with unhewn stones, and without cement; and the only
appearance of a temple was a niche in a rock, without inscription or
sculpture of any kind; there was no land for cultivation, nor any water
within twenty-four miles; no communication with the sea but by a rough
road over the mountains of twenty-four miles; and the shore was so
covered with projecting rocks for twenty or thirty miles on each side,
that there was no security even for the smallest boats, much less for
ships trading to India. These, therefore, he was quite certain, could
not be the remains of Bernicé.

As, however, the site of this celebrated city had been fully described
by the ancient writers, Mr. Belzoni determined to prosecute his
researches; and at the end of twenty days he discovered, close to the
shore, the extensive ruins of an ancient city near the Cape Lepte
Extrema, the Ras el Auf of the present day; the projection of which
forms an ample bay (now named Foul Bay), having at the bottom an
excellent harbour for vessels of small burden. These ruins, which are
beyond dispute those of the celebrated emporium founded by Ptolemy
Philadelphus, were four days’ journey from the rude cells of the
quarrymen or miners, which M. Caillaud is stated to have so strangely
mistaken for the magnificent vestiges of the ancient Bernicé. Several
wells of bitter water were found among the ruins; and between them and
the mountains was an extensive plain fit for cultivation. The remains
of more than 3000 houses were counted, about the centre of which were
those of a temple with sculptured figures and hieroglyphics.”

Having made this discovery, he again returned to the valley of the
Nile, where he was for some time occupied in the removal of various
antiquities. He then descended to the seacoast, and on the 20th of
April, 1819, set out from Rosetta, on an excursion to the district
of Fayoum, and the Oasis of Jupiter Ammon. After roaming about the
shores of Lake Mœris for some time, for he had no leisure for making
researches, he visited the ruins of Arconde, consisting of a few
granite columns and fragments and mounds of burnt bricks. He then
prepared to cross the desert to the Oasis, which was an affair of
some difficulty. Nevertheless, he at length succeeded in completing
his preparations, and commenced his journey, accompanied by a Bedouin
guide, and three or four other persons. Even here, in the desert,
ruins of Egyptian edifices, beautifully sculptured with hieroglyphics,
were found. The scene at first lay among low rocks, sandy hills, and
barren valleys, which were gradually exchanged for a plain of sand, as
level as the sea, and thickly strewed with brown and black pebbles.
They continued during five days their journey over this dreary waste,
at the end of which time they perceived the rocks of the Oasis, and
beheld two crows coming, as it were, to meet them. In the afternoon
they entered the valley, which is surrounded by high rocks, and forms
in the midst a spacious plain, about twelve or fourteen miles long,
and about six in breadth. “There is only a very small portion of the
valley cultivated on the opposite side to that which we reached, and it
can only be distinguished by the woods of palm-trees which cover it.
The rest of the valley is wholly covered with tracts of sand, but it
is evidently seen it has once been cultivated everywhere. Many tracts
of land are of a clayey substance, which could be brought into use
even now. There are several small hills scattered about, some with a
natural spring at the top, and covered with rushes and small plants.
We advanced towards a forest of date-trees, and before evening we
reached within a mile of a village named Zaboo, all of us exceedingly
thirsty: here we observed some cultivation, several beds of rice and
some sunt-trees, &c. Before the camels arrived, they scented the water
at a distance; and as they had not drank since they left Rejan, they
set off at full gallop, and did not stop till they reached a rivulet,
which was quite sweet, although the soil was almost impregnated with
salt. I observed here a great many wild birds, particularly wild ducks,
in greater abundance than any other.”

The first man who perceived them after their entrance into the valley
evinced a disposition to shoot Belzoni; but, upon the explanation of
the Bedouin guide, consented to conduct them to the village. “We
advanced,” says our traveller, “and entered a lane between these
plants; and as we penetrated farther, we entered a most beautiful
place, full of dates, intermixed with other trees, some in blossom and
others in fruit: these were apricots, figs, almonds, plums, and some
grapes. The apricots were in greater abundance than the rest, and the
figs were very fine. The soil was covered with verdure of grass and
rice, and the whole formed a most pleasing recess, particularly after
the barren scenes of the desert.”

His reception at this village was equivocal: there being several
sheïkhs, each of whom made pretensions to authority. Some were disposed
to treat him kindly, while others, more morose, kept at a distance; but
a few cups of coffee, judiciously distributed, and followed by a sheep
boiled in rice, reconciled the whole; although they next morning, when
they were again hungry, relapsed into their former rude manners. Like
all other ignorant people, they supposed that he must necessarily be
in search of treasure, and for some time refused to conduct him to the
ruins of which he was in search; but upon being assured that whatever
treasures might be discovered should fall to their share, while all he
stipulated for were a few stones, they consented to accompany him. The
ruins, which, with much probability, he concluded to be those of the
temple of Jupiter Ammon, now served, he found, as a basement for nearly
a whole village, in the vicinity of which he discovered the famous
“Fountain of the Sun,” which is warm at midnight and cold at noon.
This is a well of sixty feet deep by eight square, which, overflowing
in a considerable rivulet, serves to irrigate some cultivated lands.
All around it is a grove of palm and other trees. The temperature of
the water, however, continues at all times the same; all its apparent
changes being accounted for by the greater or less degree of heat in
the atmosphere.

From this excursion Belzoni returned to Egypt, from whence he embarked
for Europe about the middle of September, 1819. After an absence of
twenty years he returned to his family; whence he departed for England,
where he completed and published his travels. A few years afterward
this enterprising and able traveller fell in an attempt to penetrate
into the interior of Africa.



DOMINIQUE VIVANT DENON.

Born 1754.--Died 1825


This traveller was born at Givry, near Chalons-sur-Soane, in Burgundy.
He was descended from a noble family, and commenced his career in life
as a royal page. When he had for some time served in the palace in
this capacity, he was nominated gentleman in ordinary to the king; not
long after which he obtained the office of secretary to an embassy.
In this capacity he accompanied the Baron de Talleyrand, ambassador
of France to Naples, where, during the absence of the ambassador, he
remained _chargé des affaires_. At the epoch of the emigration he
incurred the displeasure of Queen Marie Caroline, and in consequence
removed to Venice, where he was known under the name of the Chevalier
Denon, and became one of the most distinguished members of the society
of Madame Albrizzi. This lady has sketched his portrait in her
_Ritratti_. After having spoken in a highly laudatory strain of his
passion for knowledge, his intrepidity in danger, the constant gayety
of his mind, the fertility of his imagination, the versatility of his
character, his irresistible inclination to drollery, she adds, “He
is generally supposed to resemble Voltaire. For my own part, I would
admit that in his physiognomy you may discover that of Voltaire, but
in the physiognomy of Voltaire you would look in vain for that of
Denon. That which, in my opinion, they possess in common, is simply
an indication of sprightliness, vivacity, versatility, and a certain
sarcastic air in the look and smile, which amuses while it terrifies;
but the physiognomy of Voltaire indicates none of those qualities which
characterize the soul of Denon.”

During his stay in Italy, Denon diligently applied himself to the art
of design, in which, as was afterward seen, he acquired a remarkable
facility and power. On the breaking out of the revolution he adopted
its principles, and even connected himself with the most furious
jacobins, with the intention, it has been said, of snatching a few
victims from their fangs. But, notwithstanding all this, he would
probably have sunk into that oblivion which has already devoured
the memory of so many actors in those sanguinary times, had not the
Egyptian expedition placed him in an advantageous position before the
world. He had all his life, he says, been desirous of travelling in
Egypt, and easily obtained the consent of Napoleon to accompany him.
Embarking at Marseilles on the 14th of May, 1799, he sailed along
the shores of Corsica, Sardinia, Sicily, and Malta, where he landed
and made some stay, and then proceeded to Egypt. Having had the good
fortune to escape the English fleet in a fog, he landed near Alexandria
with the French troops, of whose movements I shall take no further
notice, except in as far as they may be connected with the actions of
Denon.

It has been truly remarked by Volney, that on arriving any foreign
country, how many descriptions soever you may have read of it, you
nevertheless find every thing new and strange; as if, in fact, you had
just discovered it. Denon was precisely in this predicament. He had, no
doubt, read what had been written respecting Egypt; yet he looked upon
it as a country of which little beyond the name was known in Europe,
and consequently commenced the study of its antiquities with all
possible enthusiasm. His views, though vanity had some influence in the
formation of them, were tolerably correct. Egypt has indeed been often
visited, and in many instances by able men and accomplished scholars;
but no one who has toiled, as I have, through the descriptions of these
various travellers, can avoid making the discovery that very much
remains yet to be done before we can be said to possess a thorough
knowledge of Egypt, ancient or modern.

From Alexandria Denon proceeded with Kleber’s division towards Rosetta;
clouds of Arabs hung on their front and in their rear, cutting off
every man who lagged behind, or strayed to the distance of fifty yards
from the main body. Desaix himself narrowly escaped; and several young
officers, less on the alert, were either made prisoners or shot. After
making numerous little excursions in the Delta, he set out for Upper
Egypt, which, in his opinion, had never before been visited by a
European; so that, if we interpret him literally, all the travellers
who had previously described that country were so many fiction-mongers.
In ascending the Nile, he beheld at ten leagues’ distance from Cairo
the points of the Pyramids piercing the horizon. These prodigious
monuments, which, even more powerfully than Thebes itself, command the
attention of every traveller in Egypt, he soon visited with an escort,
and sketched from various positions. The city of Cairo disappointed his
expectations, which appear to have been absurd, since he had formed his
ideas of the place from the “Arabian Nights,” rather than from the
descriptions of travellers.

The population of Cairo, which, though far less numerous than is
commonly supposed, is still very great, saw with disgust and horror
the triumph of the Franks; who, they feared, might soon introduce
among them the eating of the “unclean beast,” abhorred by Jews and
Mussulmans, with drinking, gambling, and other accomplishments which
Mohammed had prohibited to his followers. They therefore determined to
shake off the yoke which they had too tamely suffered to be placed on
their necks. Rushing fiercely to arms, they attacked their invaders
with fury. The house which had been appropriated to the learned men
who accompanied the expedition stood apart from the city, and was
surrounded by gardens. Here they were collected together when the
revolt began. The report of musketry and symptoms of increasing
consternation soon informed them, however, of what was going forward
in the more populous quarters, and their alarm was proportioned to the
solitude by which they were surrounded. Presently a report reached them
that the house of General Caffarelli had been sacked and pillaged,
and that several members of the commission of arts had perished. They
now reviewed their numbers, and four of the party were missing. In
an hour after this it was ascertained that they had been massacred.
Meanwhile no one could give any account of Napoleon; night was coming
on; the firing continued; shouts and clamours filled the air; and it
was evident that the insurrection was general. A tremendous carnage had
already taken place, but the inhabitants still held out, having in one
half of the city adopted that barricading system in which they were
recently imitated by the people of Paris; and in others, taken refuge,
to the number of four thousand, in a spacious mosque, from whence they
repulsed two companies of grenadiers. Night produced a pause in the
struggle. At the commencement of the insurrection the literati had been
granted a guard, but about midnight the exigences of the moment caused
this to be withdrawn; when they themselves took arms, and, though every
man was disposed to command and none to obey, prepared to receive the
insurgents. Thus the night passed away in confusion and slaughter, and
in the morning the French were again masters of the city.

It must be acknowledged, to the honour of the French, that, whatever
their conduct in Egypt may have been in other respects, nothing could
be more constant than their ardour for the sciences. In the midst
of battles, revolts, and dangers of every kind, their researches
were still continued. We accordingly find Denon, just escaped from
becoming a mummy himself, busily engaged in dissecting an ibis, five
hundred mummies of which bird had just been discovered in the caverns
of Saccara. He next witnessed an exhibition of the achievements of
the Psylli; but his incredulity and self-sufficiency disinclined
him from making any serious inquiries on the subject of their power
over serpents, which he was contented with turning into ridicule: an
unfortunate propensity for a traveller, who should abandon all such
absurd displays of littleness to the wits of the metropolis.

Shortly after this Denon accompanied General Desaix on an expedition
into Upper Egypt. The Mamelukes, though forced to retire, still
continued to make head against their enemies, who, if they triumphed
over them through the effects of discipline, were assuredly neither
more brave nor more enterprising. When they drew near the place where
the Mamelukes under Murad Bey were reported to be encamped, Desaix was
informed that Murad was already putting himself in motion to attack
him. The French general, no less chivalrous than Murad, determined
at once to anticipate the attack. Both armies came in sight of each
other in the evening. It was too late for battle. The victory which
both parties promised themselves was deferred until the morrow.
In the Mameluke camp the night was spent in rejoicings; and their
sentinels approached, with laughter and insult, the advanced posts of
the French. The battle commenced with the dawn. Murad, at the head of
his redoubtable Mamelukes and eight or ten thousand Arabs, appeared
ready for the attack. The French formed with rapidity, and the combat
commenced. Never, on any occasion, was more impetuous bravery displayed
than by Murad and his Mamelukes on this day. Finding that the chances
of battle were turning against them, their habitual courage degenerated
into fury: they galloped up, reckless of danger, to the ranks of their
enemies, and endeavoured to open themselves a way through the bayonets
and muskets of the French, which they attempted to hew in pieces with
their sabres. Failing in this, they made their horses rear and plunge
into the opposing lines, or backed them against the bayonets, in the
hope of breaking and dispersing them. When this desperate measure also
deceived their hopes, they lost all government of their rage, and
in the madness of their despair, threw their muskets, pistols, and
blunderbusses at the enemy; or, if dismounted, crept along the ground,
beneath the bayonets, to cut at the legs of the soldiers. It was in
this fight that an instance of ferocity on both sides, unsurpassed
by any thing of the kind recorded in history, occurred: a French
soldier and a Mameluke, engaged in mortal struggle on the ground, were
discovered by an officer, just as the Frenchman was cutting the throat
of his enemy. “How can you be guilty of so horrible an action,” said
the officer, “in the state in which you are?” The soldier replied, “You
talk very finely, at your ease, sir; for my own part, however, I have
but a moment to live, and I mean to enjoy it!” The Mamelukes retired,
but they did not fly; and it cost the French torrents of blood before
the victory was completed.

This victory caused Desaix to return once more to Cairo for a
reinforcement, after which the journey towards the south was resumed.
At Miniel Guidi, while Denon was sitting beside the general in the
shade, a criminal, who had been caught in stealing the muskets from the
volunteers, was brought up for judgment. It was a boy not more than
twelve years of age, beautiful as an angel, but bleeding from a large
sabre wound which he had received in his arm. He paid no attention to
his wound, but presented himself with an ingenuous and confident air
before the general, whom he soon discovered to be his judge. How great
is the power of unaffected grace! The anger of every person present
immediately disappeared. He was first questioned respecting the person
who had instigated the crime. “No one,” he replied. The question was
repeated under another form: he answered that “he did not know--the
powerful--the Almighty.”--“Have you any relations?”--“Only a mother,
very poor, and blind.” He was then informed, that if he confessed who
had sent him nothing would be done to him; whereas certain punishment
would ensue upon his concealing the truth. “I have told you,” he said,
“I was sent by no one; God alone inspired me!” Then placing his cap
at the feet of the general, he continued, “Behold my head, command
it to be struck off.”--“Poor fellow!” exclaimed Desaix, “let him be
dismissed.” He was led away, and divining his fate from the looks of
the general, he departed with a smile.

Here they enjoyed the unusual pleasure of a shower of rain. On visiting
the ruins of Oxyrinchus, Denon suffered one of the penalties attached
to a hopeless creed; beholding around him nothing but desolation and
sterility, a thousand melancholy ideas glided into his mind; he saw
the desert encroaching upon the cultivated soil, as the domain of
death encroaches upon life; the tombs in the pathless waste seemed the
emblems of death and annihilation. The gayety described by Signora
Albrizzi had now fled. He thought himself alone, and felt all that
awful solitude inspired by a want of faith in the spiritual nature
of man, that faith which sheds around us, wherever we move, a light
by which we discern the links that unite us to our Creator, and to
every thing noble and immortal in the works of his hands. He was not,
however, alone. Desaix had wandered to the same spot, and having
apparently yielded, like himself, to the fatal error of the times,
experienced the same sensations, and was oppressed by the same gloom.

They shortly afterward set out together, escorted by three hundred
men, on an excursion to the ruins of Hermopolis; which, being the
first monument of ancient Egyptian architecture that he beheld,
the Pyramids excepted, became in his mind the type of that sublime
style. Notwithstanding the number of his escort, Denon soon found
that, although arms might indeed open him a way to places which had
hitherto been inaccessible to travellers, other circumstances, over
which neither himself nor Desaix could exercise any control, prevented
him from maturely studying what he beheld. A few hours satisfied the
curiosity of the general, and overwhelmed the soldiers, who felt no
curiosity about the matter, with fatigue. It was therefore necessary
to be contented with a few fugitive glances, as it were, with a few
sketches hastily made, and the hope of returning again under more
favourable auspices.

On approaching Tentyris Denon ventured, he says, to propose that the
army should halt there. Desaix, though no less sensible than himself
of the charms of these antique ruins, had his mind filled with other
cares, and met the proposal with anger. Passion, however, could possess
but a momentary influence over that beautiful mind; shortly afterward
he sought out the enthusiastic traveller, in whose company he visited
Denderah, and admired the sublimity of its ponderous architecture. In
the evening, Latournerie, a young officer remarkable for his courage
and the delicacy of his taste, observed to Denon, “Ever since I
have arrived in Egypt, continual disappointment has made me ill and
melancholy. The sight of Denderah has revived me. What I have seen this
day has repaid me for all my fatigues; and whatever may be the fate to
which the present expedition shall lead me, the remembrance of this day
will cause me to rejoice, as long as I live, that I was engaged in it.”

Two days after this, on turning the point of a chain of mountains, the
army came in sight of the ruins of Thebes. Denon loved above all things
to be original. In approaching the wreck of this mighty city, Homer’s
phrase, “Thebes with its hundred gates,” occurred to him; he repeated
it, and then descanted upon its poetical vanity, and the folly of those
who harped upon this string. As soon as the army came in sight of
these gigantic ruins, the whole body stopped spontaneously as one man,
and clapped their hands with admiration and delight. The conquest of
Egypt appeared to be complete. Our traveller, who rivalled Dr. Syntax
himself in his love of the picturesque, immediately set about sketching
the view, as if it had been merely a city of vapour, like that which
appears under the name of the “Palace of the Rajah Harchund,” in the
desert of Ajmere. Being desirous of beholding at once all the wonders
of this stupendous city, he quickly visited those colossal statues
which are found in a sitting posture in the neighbouring plain, which
he supposed to be those of the mother and son of Ossymandyas.

From Thebes he proceeded with General Belliard to Syene, while Desaix
struck off into the desert in search of a detachment of Mamelukes.
Here he resided for some time, making the island of Elephantina his
country-house, and Syene his head-quarters. He visited the cataracts,
the island of Phile, and made drawings of whatever was striking or
remarkable in the vicinity. After a considerable stay, he returned
towards the north, where he bade adieu to his friend Desaix, never to
meet again. He afterward made a second excursion to Thebes, Denderah,
and other celebrated spots; and experienced, during one of these
rambles, the effects of the Khamsyn wind, variously described by
travellers, according to the variety of their temperaments. It was
about the middle of May, the heat was almost intolerable, a complete
stagnation seemed to have taken place in the air. “At the very moment,”
he says, “when to remove the painful sensation occasioned by such a
state of the atmosphere, I was hastening to bathe in the Nile, all
nature seemed to have put on a new aspect: the light and colours were
such as I had never seen before; the sun, without being concealed,
had lost its rays; become dimmer than the moon, it yielded but a pale
light, diffused around every object without shadows; the water no
longer reflected its rays, and appeared troubled: the aspect of every
thing was changed; it was the earth which now appeared luminous, while
the air was dim, and seemed opaque; the trees, beheld through a yellow
horizon, wore a dirty blue colour; a long column of birds swept before
the cloud; the terrified animals wandered wild through the plain, and
the peasants, who pursued them with shouts, failed to collect them
together. The wind, which had raised this prodigious mass of sand,
and transported it along through the atmosphere, had not yet reached
us, and we hoped, by entering into the water, to escape from its
effects. But we had scarcely stepped into the river before its waves
were lifted up by the hurricane, dashed over our heads, and carried
in an instantaneous inundation over the plain. The bed of the Nile
seemed shaken under our feet, and its banks with our garments appeared
to have been blown away. We hurried out of the water, the dust fell
upon us like rain, we were immediately covered as with a crust. Too
much terrified even to put on our garments, we crept along through a
reddish, insufficient light, partly guiding our steps by the walls,
until at length we found refuge in our lodgings.”

Denon, who really possessed all the genuine enthusiasm of a traveller,
shortly after this undertook a journey to Cosseir on the Red Sea, where
he enjoyed an opportunity of beholding the manners of the Arabs under
less disadvantages than in the valley of the Nile. He then returned
again to Thebes, where he visited the sepulchres of Gournon, and
descending the Nile to the seacoast, embarked with Napoleon on board
a frigate, and sailed for France. The ship, fearful of encountering
the English, coasted along the shores of Africa, as far as the Gulf
of Carthage and Biserta; then, after passing close to Sardinia, and
touching at Corsica, arrived safe on the coast of Provence.

On his return to France, Napoleon, of whom he was a devoted admirer,
and in whose praise he was frequently guilty of adulation, conferred
upon him the office of superintendent of museums and the striking of
medals. The triumphal column in the Place Vendôme was erected under
his direction. On the fall of Napoleon, the king, who was not ignorant
of the merits of Denon, continued him in his offices; but as on the
reappearance of Napoleon in 1815 he returned to his allegiance to his
first sovereign, he naturally sank with him upon his final fall. In his
place of superintendent of the medal mint he was succeeded by M. de
Puymaurin and by the Comte de Farbin, as director-general of museums.
Denon enjoyed the reputation, however, of being the most competent
person in Paris for filling the offices of which he had been deprived.
Remarking upon those changes, “It would be difficult,” says the
Quarterly Review, “to discover on what grounds an old and meritorious
servant, who, like Denon, had distinguished himself by his knowledge of
antiquities, by his taste and execution in the fine arts, and by his
zeal for their promotion among his countrymen, was dismissed to make
room for the present Apollo of the Museum, who has not the good fortune
to be gifted with science, art, or taste, or even with the semblance of
zeal or respect for any of them.” Denon died in 1827, leaving behind
him an extensive and well-merited reputation, which is likely long to
survive. His travels have been translated into English, and are still
highly esteemed.



REGINALD HEBER.

Born 1783.--Died 1826.


Reginald Heber, equally distinguished for his talents and for his
piety, was born on the 21st of April, 1783, at Malpas, in the county of
Chester. From his earliest years religion was the predominant feeling
of his mind. His passions, which would seem to have been naturally
ardent, he quickly learned to hold in subjection; and was thus happily
delivered from those stormy agitations and poignant regrets to which
those who are formed of more fiery materials are but too frequently
liable. Like most other men who have been remarkable for their
attainments in after-life, Heber was strongly addicted, while a boy,
to extensive miscellaneous reading. Guicciardini and Machiavelli were
among his early favourites. He admired the great Florentine historian
for his style, and with a freedom from prejudice which indicated
the purity of his mind, ventured to make the discovery, that this
much-calumniated advocate of freedom was a far better man than the
world was inclined to admit. At the same time his study of the sacred
Scriptures was incessant. Even while a child, the principal events
which they record were so firmly imprinted on his memory, that his
friends used to apply to him, when at a loss where to find the account
of any important transaction, or any remarkable passage.

In the year 1800 Heber was entered a student of Brazen Nose College,
Oxford, where he exhibited on all occasions the same high sense of
religion and primitive piety which had distinguished him in his
earlier years. His studies in the mean while were pursued with a
passionate ardour, particularly all those which were connected with
poetry, for the mind of Heber was eminently imaginative; and although
circumstances, which I know not whether to denominate fortunate or
unfortunate (since in either case he would, like the divine Founder of
his religion, have been employed in doing good), prevented him from
devoting himself to the study and building of the “lofty rhyme,” his
soul was yet a fountain, as it were, of poetry, which, if possible,
cast additional beauty and splendour on his faith. However, as I am
not, on the present occasion, engaged in viewing Heber as a poet, or
as a divine, it will not be necessary for me to enter minutely into a
description of his poetical or theological studies. His “Palestine,”
the principal contribution which he has made to our rich poetical
literature, was a juvenile performance, written before or soon after
he had completed his twentieth year; but the effect which it produced
on those who heard it recited in the theatre of the college was more
extraordinary, perhaps, than the bare reading of the poem would lead
one to conceive; though the judgment of those who then heard it has
since been confirmed by the public. “None,” says an able writer in
Blackwood’s Magazine, who heard Reginald Heber recite his ‘Palestine’
in that magnificent theatre, “will ever forget his appearance--so
interesting and impressive. It was known that his old father was
somewhere sitting among the crowded audience, when his universally
admired son ascended the rostrum; and we have heard that the sudden
thunder of applause which then arose so shook his frame, weak and
wasted by long illness, that he never recovered it, and may be said
to have died of the joy dearest to a parent’s heart. Reginald Heber’s
recitation, like that of all poets whom we have heard recite, was
altogether untrammelled by the critical laws of elocution, which were
not set at defiance, but either by the poet unknown or forgotten; and
there was a charm in his somewhat melancholy voice, that occasionally
faltered, less from a feeling of the solemnity and even grandeur of
the scene, of which he was himself the conspicuous object--though that
feeling did suffuse his pale, ingenuous, and animated countenance--than
from the deeply-felt sanctity of his subject, comprehending the most
awful mysteries of God’s revelations to man. As his voice grew bolder
and more sonorous in the hush, the audience felt that this was not
the mere display of the skill and ingenuity of a clever youth, the
accidental triumph of an accomplished versifier over his compeers, in
the dexterity of scholarship, which is all that can generally be truly
said of such exhibitions; but that here was a poet indeed, not only of
bright promise, but of high achievement; one whose name was already
written in the roll of the immortals. And that feeling, whatever might
have been the share of the boundless enthusiasm with which the poem was
listened to, attributable to the influence of the ‘genius loci,’ has
been since sanctioned by the judgment of the world, that has placed
‘Palestine’ at the very head of the poetry on divine subjects of this
age. It is now incorporated for ever with the poetry of England.”

In this eloquent tribute to the memory of Heber there appears to be but
one error; it is that which attributes the death of Reginald’s father
to the influence of excessive joy on a frame debilitated by illness; a
report which we are assured by the widow of our traveller was wholly
without foundation. During the same year, Napoleon conceived the insane
design of invading England; and thus roused in the ardent breasts of
our countrymen a fierce spirit of resistance, which affected even the
peaceful college student, who, to use the familiar expression of Heber
in describing himself thus engaged, “fagged and drilled by turns.”
Neither Napoleon nor his army, however, had been doomed by Providence
to lay their bones in English clay, as, had the invasion taken place,
they must have done; and our traveller’s military enthusiasm was
quickly suffered to cool.

Early in the year 1804, Heber sustained one of the heaviest calamities
which men can experience on this side of the grave--the loss of a
father; which he bore with that deep but meek sorrow which a youth full
of religious hope and untiring resignation to the will of Providence
might be naturally expected to feel. In the autumn of the same year he
was elected a fellow of All Souls; shortly after which his academical
career terminated, and he exchanged the mimic world of the university
for that far more arduous scene where many an academical star has grown
dim, though Heber, with the happy fortune which usually attends the
virtuous, continued even in the great theatre of the world to command
the approval and admiration of mankind.

About the middle of the year 1805, he accompanied his early friend,
Mr. John Thornton, whose virtues would appear to have been akin to his
own, on a tour through the north of Europe. They proceeded by sea
to Gottenburg in Sweden, where they experienced the effect of that
strangeness and novelty, which is felt once by all persons who travel
in a foreign country, but which can never, by any possibility, visit
the mind a second time. Here they purchased a carriage, and proceeded
through the wildest and most sublime scenery, interspersed with meadows
and corn-fields, on a tour among the mountains of Norway. At intervals,
dispersed over craggy, desolate heaths, immense numbers of cairns and
Runic columns were discovered,--which, with pine forests of sombre hue,
large bays of the sea nearly land-locked, and appearing like so many
lakes; cascades, rocks, cloud-capped mountains,--produced a series
of impressions upon the mind, characterized by so high a degree of
solemn grandeur, that even the vast solitudes of the Brenner Alps or
Wetterhorn could scarcely inspire a deeper sense of sublimity. Amid
those wild landscapes the natives amused themselves with wolf-hunting
on sledges, during the winter; but their ferocious game sometimes come
out in such multitudes from the woods, that even the most skilled
huntsmen were in danger.

At Munkholm, or Monk’s Island, called the Bastille du Nord, Heber saw,
among other prisoners, a very old man, who had been confined there
for above fifty years, and had lost in a great measure the use of his
faculties; they were much moved by his appearance, and the answers
which he gave. On being asked how old he was, he answered three hundred
years. His crime was variously reported: some said he was sent there by
his relations for violent behaviour to his father; others as being a
spend-thrift; and M. Leganger said, as being mad. A pretty government
this, where a man is shut up for his whole life, and three or four
different reasons given for his imprisonment, all equally uncertain!
In Norway, as well as in some parts of Hadramaut and the Coromandel
coast, the cattle are fed upon the refuse of fish, which fattens them
rapidly, but seems, at the same time, totally to change their nature,
and render them unmanageably ferocious.

Heber’s stay in Norway was short. He had the talent to describe
whatever was presented to his view, but his mild and gentle nature
inspired him with no sympathy for the craggy, barren, desolate scenery
of the Norwegian mountains; and he appears to have hastened his return
to the abodes of civilization from an instinctive perception of this
fact. Upon passing from Norway into Sweden, they spent some time at
Upsala and the capital; from whence they crossed the Gulf of Bothnia in
a fishing-boat, to Abo, in Finland. From hence, however, as it seems to
have contained nothing worth seeing, they proceeded with all possible
celerity, the approved English mode of travelling, to Petersburg.
Notwithstanding the rapidity of their movements, they found time to
make one discovery, which, as it is the echo of what most travellers
repeat of the countries they visit, I insert for the honour of the
Finns and Russians: “In one point,” says he, “both the Finlanders and
Russians are unfortunately agreed, I mean in the proverbial knavery of
the lower classes. In Sweden every thing was secure from theft, and our
carriage, with its harness, cushions, &c., stood every night untouched
in the open street. But we soon found how very inferior the Sclavonian
race is to the Gothic in honesty, and were obliged to keep a constant
watch. I cannot account for this apparently generic difference. If the
Russians only had been thieves I should have called it the effects of
the slavery of the peasants, but Swedish Finland is just as bad, and
the peasants are as free as in England.”

Our travellers remained at St. Petersburg until the 30th of December,
amusing themselves with learning the German language, and in seeing
sights, and then departed for Moscow, travelling at the same
prodigious rate as when they fled thither from Abo. “Our mode of
travelling,” says Heber, “deserves describing, both as very comfortable
in itself, and as being entirely different from every thing in England.
We performed the journey in kabitkas, the carriages usually employed
by the Russians in their winter journeys: they are nothing more than a
very large cradle, well covered with leather, and placed on a sledge,
with a leather curtain in front; the luggage is placed at the bottom,
the portmanteaus serving for an occasional seat, and the whole covered
with a mattress, on which one or more persons can lie at full length,
or sit supported by pillows. In this attitude, and well wrapped up in
furs, one can scarcely conceive a more luxurious mode of getting over a
country, when the roads are good, and the weather not intense; but in
twenty-four or twenty-five degrees of frost (Reaumur), no wrapping can
keep you quite warm; and in bad roads, of which we have had some little
experience, the jolting is only equalled by the motion of a ship in a
storm.”

From Moscow, where they arrived on the 3d of January, 1806, they
shortly afterward made an excursion eastward to Yaroslav, on the banks
of the Volga, during which Heber made the remarkable discovery that
the Russian clergy almost universally were inimical to the government;
being more connected than most other classes of men with the peasants,
many of whose sufferings and oppressions they shared. They witnessed at
Yaroslav a wolf-hunt on the frozen Volga. It should rather, however,
be termed a “wolf-baiting;” for the animals, which had been previously
caught for the purpose, were at once set upon by a number of dogs,
and beaten almost blind by the long whips of savages, whom I cannot
term hunters. A couple of hares were likewise chased upon the ice by
Siberian greyhounds, very beautiful creatures, with silky hair and a
fan tail, which, though less swift, were said to be more hardy than our
greyhounds.

Heber, somewhat dazzled, as was natural, by the gorgeous taste of
the Muscovites, seems to have been highly gratified by the reception
which he and his fellow-traveller experienced at the ancient capital
of the empire: “The eastern retinues and luxuries,” says he, “which
one meets with here are almost beyond belief. There are few English
countesses have so many pearls in their possession as I have seen in
the streets in the cap of a merchant’s wife. At a ball in the ancient
costume, which was given by M. Nedilensky (secretary of state to the
late empress, whose family we have found the most agreeable in Moscow),
the ladies all wore caps entirely of pearls, and the blaze of diamonds
on their _saraphaus_ (the ancient Russian tunic) would have outshone,
I think, St. James’s. The pearl bonnet is not a becoming dress, as
it makes its wearer look very pale, a fault which some ladies had
evidently been endeavouring to obviate.” The heads which were thus
gaudily garnished on the outside were generally exceedingly empty, as
may safely be inferred from the degree of information possessed by
their fathers, husbands, and brothers; so that the comparison with
English ladies, in whom beauty and intelligence usually go hand in
hand, could, I imagine, be carried no further.

Upon leaving Moscow about the middle of March, our traveller proceeded
southward through the Ukraine, the country of the Cossacks, at Charkof,
the capital of which, a university had recently been established. The
professors of this establishment, who were all very handsomely paid,
presented a motley assemblage of Russians, Germans, and Frenchmen,
nearly every individual of which was big with some new scheme of
teaching or college government; but this ludicrous appearance would
wear off in time, while the benefit conferred on the people would
be extensive and permanent. From hence they hurried on, for they
were still rapid in their motions, to Taganroy, or the “Cape of the
Teakettle,” so called from the form of the rock on which the fortress
stands; and from thence to Nakitchivan on the Don. “This town,” says
Heber, “is a singular mixture of Cossack houses and the black felt
tents of the Kalmucs, all fishermen, and with their habitations almost
thrust into the river. From the windows of the public-house where I am
writing, the view is very singular and pleasing. The moon is risen, and
throws a broad glare of light over the Don, which is here so widely
overflowed that the opposite bank is scarcely visible; the foreground
is a steep limestone hill covered with cottages and circular tents; and
we hear on every side the mingled characteristic sounds of the singing
of the boatmen on the river, the barking of the large ferocious Kalmuc
dogs, which in all these countries are suffered to prowl about during
the night, blended with the low monotonous chant of the Cossack women,
who are enjoying the fine evening, and dancing in a large circle in the
streets.”

Tcherkask, their next station, which in spring was mostly under water,
seemed in some degree to resemble Venice. It was, in the opinion of
our travellers, one of the most singular towns in the world, where, in
the season of the inundation, the communication between one house and
another was preserved by a kind of balcony or gallery, raised on wooden
pillars, and running along the streets on both sides. From hence they
continued their journey along the banks of the Kuban and the frontiers
of Circassia, having in view the wild range of the Caucasus, with vast
forests of oak at its roots. The population of these districts, fierce
marauding mountaineers, beheld with regret the efforts which were
making by the Russian government to wean them from their sanguinary
habits. Their whole delight consisted in bloodshed and plunder. But
their frays had gradually become less and less frequent: “Formerly,”
said their guide, “we were ourselves a terror to our neighbours--but
we are now,” added he with a sigh--“a civilized people!” “The land on
the Russian side of the river (Kuban),” says Heber, “is but scantily
wooded; on the southern side it rises in a magnificent theatre of oak
woods, interspersed with cultivated ground, and the smoke of villages,
with the ridges of Caucasus above the whole. The nearest hills are by
no means gigantic; but there are some white peaks which rise at a vast
distance, and which proved to us that these were only the first story
of the mountain.”

Our travellers now traversed the Crimea, and proceeded across a stepp
intersected by numerous streams, inlets of the sea, and some large
salt-water lakes, to Odessa, an interesting town, which in the opinion
of Heber owed its prosperity to the administration of the Duc de
Richelieu far more than to any natural advantages. Their route now lay
across Russian Poland, Hungary, Austria, and Northern Germany. They
arrived at Yarmouth on the 14th of October, 1806, and Heber immediately
set forward to join the family circle at Hodnet, where he enjoyed the
satisfaction which every wanderer feels when returning, after a long
and toilsome journey, to his native home.

In the year 1807 Heber took orders, and obtained the living of Hodnet,
in Shropshire, which was in his brother’s gift; he then returned to
Oxford for the purpose of taking his degree as master of arts. It
will readily be supposed that he, whose piety was truly apostolical,
even while in a secular station, now that he had assumed the habit of
a Christian minister, became doubly anxious to render not only his
conduct, but the very thoughts of his mind, pure as became his holy
calling. The church has in no age been destitute of teachers remarkable
for their virtue and benevolence; but even among preachers of the
gospel it is not often that a man so gifted as Heber with genius,
with enlarged knowledge of mankind, with almost boundless charity and
benevolence, can be found, the perusal of whose life must create in
the reader as well as in me the vain wish that we had numbered him
among our friends. Yet Heber was far from being an ascetic. Like all
men of high imaginative powers who have never suffered vice to brush
away the down from their nobler feelings, he had a bold faith in the
enduring nature of affection, and spoke of love, not like a pert
worldling, whom no excellence could kindle, but like a philosopher,
aware of the prejudices of the vulgar, but far above being swayed by
them. “To speak, however, my serious opinion,” says he, in a letter to
a friend, “I believe that were it possible for a well-founded passion
to wear out, the very recollection of it would be more valuable than
the greatest happiness afforded by those calm and vulgar kindnesses
which chiefly proceed from knowing no great harm of one another. You
remember Shenstone’s epitaph on Miss Dolman: _Vale, Maria, Puellarum
Elegantissima, heu quanto minus est cum reliquis versari quam tui
meminisse._ I am not sure how long that romance of passion may continue
which the world shows such anxiety to wean us of as soon as possible,
and which it laughs at because it envies; but, end when it may, it
is never lost, but will contribute, like fermentation, to make the
remainder of the cup of happiness more pleasant and wholesome.”

In the April of 1809 Heber married Amelia, youngest daughter of Dr.
Shipley, dean of St. Asaph. On this occasion he undertook an excursion
in Wales, the beauties of which, notwithstanding the variety of scenes
he had beheld, he seemed to consider equal to those of any country
in the world. He then settled on his rectory, and employed himself
earnestly in diffusing among his parishioners a proper sense of
religion, and habits of piety and virtue. “He became, indeed,” says
his excellent widow, “their earthly guide, their pastor, and friend.
His ear was never shut to their complaints, nor his hands closed to
their wants. Instead of hiding his face from the poor, he sought out
distress; he made it a rule, from which no circumstances induced him
to swerve, to ‘give to all who asked,’ however trifling the sum; and
wherever he had an opportunity, he never failed to inquire into, and
more effectually to relieve their distress. He could not pass a sick
person, or a child crying, without endeavouring to sooth and help
them; and the kindness of his manner always rendered his gifts doubly
valuable.”

Heber, whose leisure, however, was not considerable, was now led,
by a praiseworthy literary ambition, to become a contributor to the
Quarterly Review, where many of the excellent critiques on books of
travels which appeared about that period were of his writing. Having
himself travelled, he knew how to appreciate the historian of foreign
manners, while the high tone of his Christian virtues emancipated him
from that mean jealousy with which little minds are inspired by the
success of a rival. He was, moreover, admirably calculated by the
extent and variety of his reading, in which perhaps, he was scarcely
excelled even by Dr. Southey or Sir Walter Scott, for determining the
amount of information which any particular observer added to the common
stock; without which no critic, however able or acute, can possibly
judge with accuracy of the merits of a traveller. The Castalian rill,
which Providence had intrusted to our traveller’s keeping, was not,
in the mean while, permitted to stagnate. Various poems, of different
character and pretensions, he from time to time composed, and submitted
to the world; and in 1812 published a collected edition of all his
poetical works. In the same year he was afflicted by a severe and
somewhat protracted illness. Indeed, he continued through life,
observes Mrs. Heber, subject to inflammatory attacks, though rigid
temperance and exercise enabled him to pursue his studies without
inconvenience. He was an early riser, and having performed his daily
devotions, devoted the larger portion of the day to literature; from
which, nevertheless, he was ready to separate himself at the call of
duty.

I have before observed that Heber’s character was by no means morose
or ascetic; he was full of vivacity, good-humour, wit, and no enemy
to amusements; but he conceived that on Sunday it was the Christian’s
duty to abstain as far as possible from every species of business. An
anecdote illustrative of this point, which is related by Mrs. Heber,
is well worth repeating: As Mr. Reginald Heber was riding one Sunday
morning to preach at Moreton, his horse cast a shoe. Seeing the village
blacksmith standing at the door of his forge, he requested him to
replace it. The man immediately set about blowing up the embers of his
Saturday night’s fire, on seeing which, he said, “On second thoughts,
John, it does not signify; I can walk my mare; it will not lame her,
and I do not like to disturb your day of rest.”

In 1815 he was appointed Bampton lecturer. His subject was necessarily
theological, so that it is not within my competence to decide
respecting the merit of his mode of treating it; but notwithstanding
that it excited the opposition of one antagonist, who called in
question his orthodoxy, the lectures appear, when published, to have
been generally approved of by the clergy, the legitimate judges in
such matters. Two years after this he was promoted to a stall in the
cathedral of St. Asaph, an appointment which led to many journeys into
Wales, during which he yielded up his mind to the delight of poetical
composition. In the midst of these and similar enjoyments, which, to
a mind so purely and beautifully constituted as his, must have been
secondary only to those arising from the exercise of virtue, Heber
underwent the affliction of losing at a very early age his only child.
This bereavement, however, severely as it affected his heart, he
submitted to with that religious resignation which his character would
have led us to expect from him.

Our traveller himself appeared, in the spring of 1820, in extreme
danger of being snatched away from the world. By constantly attending
in the chambers of the sick, during the prevalence of putrid
sore-throat in his neighbourhood, he caught this dangerous disorder,
which from himself was communicated to seven members of his household,
to none of whom, however, did it prove fatal. In the autumn of the same
year he paid a visit to Oxford, “when,” says Mrs. Heber, “he had the
gratification of hearing ‘Palestine’ performed as an oratorio in the
same theatre, where, seventeen years before, he had recited it to an
equally, or perhaps a more crowded audience than was then assembled.
To the eye the scene was the same, but its component parts were widely
different. Of the relations who were present at the former period, some
had paid the debt of nature; the greater number of his contemporaries
were scattered abroad in the pursuit of their respective professions;
new faces occupied the arena.”

About the close of the year 1822 Heber received, through his friend,
the Right Honourable Watkins Williams Wynn, the offer of the bishopric
of Calcutta. Our traveller had long viewed with deep interest the
progress of Christianity in the East, and the prospect opened to him
by this offer, of contributing by his own zeal and exertions to the
success of so holy a cause, seems quickly to have outweighed in his
mind every consideration of personal interest, and to have determined
him, at all hazards, to accept of that distinguished but dangerous
post. The conduct of Mr. Wynn on this occasion, his ardent desire that
India should not be deprived of the services of so good, so great a
man (for virtue like Heber’s is true greatness), while he was scarcely
less unwilling to lose, certainly for a considerable time, if not, as
it happened, for ever, a friend of incomparable value, reflects the
highest honour on his heart and character. “The king,” said he, “has
returned his _entire_ approbation of your appointment to Calcutta, and
if I could only divide you, so as to leave one in England and send the
other to India, it would also have mine; but the die is now cast, and
we must not look on any side but that which stands uppermost.” To this
Heber replied, “For this last, as well as for all former proofs of your
kindness, accept my best thanks. God grant that my conduct in India may
be such as not to do your recommendation discredit, or make you repent
the flattering confidence which you have placed in me.”

When Heber’s intention of leaving England was made known, he received
from every quarter those warm voluntary testimonies of affection and
regret which nothing but virtue, distinguished, persevering, exalted,
can command. His own parishioners, as was natural, were the foremost
in their demonstrations of their profound esteem. Rich, poor, old, and
young--all joined in presenting their exemplary pastor with a lasting
mark of the veneration in which his character was held among them.
“Almost the last business,” says Mrs. Heber, “which Dr. Heber (he had
recently been created D.D. by the University of Oxford) transacted
before he left Shropshire was settling a long-standing account,
in which he had been charged as debtor to the amount of a hundred
pounds; but it was believed by those who were best acquainted with
the circumstances, that he was not bound either in law or probity to
pay it. As he himself, however, did not feel certain on this point,
he resolved to pay the money, observing to a friend who endeavoured
to dissuade him, ‘How can I reasonably hope for a blessing on my
undertaking, or how can I commence so long a voyage with a quiet
conscience, if I leave even the shadow of a committed act of injustice
behind?’ About the same time an unknown person sent him a small sum of
money through the hands of a clergyman in Shrewsbury, confessing that
he had defrauded him of it, and stating that he could not endure to see
him leave England for such objects without relieving his own conscience
by making restitution. On the 22d of April, 1823,” she continues, “Dr.
Heber finally took leave of Shropshire: from a range of high grounds
near Newport, he turned back to catch a last view of his beloved
Hodnet; and here the feelings which he had hitherto suppressed in
tenderness to others burst forth unrestrained, and he uttered the words
which have proved prophetic, that he ‘should return to it no more!’”

Heber, having made all necessary preparations for his long voyage,
and received consecration, repaired on the 16th of June on board the
Company’s ship Grenville, in which he and his family were to proceed
to India. As our traveller’s first desire, in whatever position he
happened to be placed, was to effect all the good in his power, he no
sooner found himself on board than he endeavoured to communicate to
the sailors a sense of their religious duties; which he did with all
that authority and effect which genius and virtue invariably exert over
inferior individuals. His exhortations were listened to attentively and
respectfully; and there can be no doubt produced, in many instances
at least, conviction and amendment of life. The influence which the
majestic simplicity of his character enabled him to exercise over his
rude audience may in some measure be conceived from the following
anecdote: “We had divine service on deck this morning,” says he; “a
large shoal of dolphins were playing round the ship, and I thought
it right to interfere to check the harpoons and fishing-hooks of
some of the crew. I am not strict in my notions of what is called the
Christian Sabbath; but the wanton destruction of animal life seems to
be precisely one of those works by which the sanctity and charity of
our weekly feast would be profaned. The sailors took my reproof in good
part.” Such were his occupations until, on the 3d of October, the ship
safely anchored in Sangor roads, in the Hoogly, or great western branch
of the Ganges.

Heber was now arrived in the most extraordinary region, Greece and
Egypt perhaps excepted, which has ever been inhabited by mankind. And
he was well calculated by his high enthusiasm, extensive learning,
and remarkable freedom from prejudice, to conceive all the splendour
of the scene before him, to enter profoundly into the spirit of its
institutions, and to describe with graceful and simple eloquence the
picturesque variety of manners which the natives of this vast empire
present to the contemplation of a stranger. “Two observations struck
me forcibly,” says he; “first, that the deep bronze tint (observable
in the Hindoos) is more naturally agreeable to the human eye than the
fair skins of Europe, since we are not displeased with it even in the
first instance, while it is well known that to them a fair complexion
gives the idea of ill health, and of that sort of deformity which in
our eyes belongs to an Albino. There is, indeed, something in a negro
which requires long habit to reconcile the eye to him; but for this
the features and the hair, far more than the colour, are answerable.
The second observation was, how entirely the idea of indelicacy, which
would naturally belong to such naked figures as those now around us,
if they were white, is prevented by their being of a different colour
from ourselves. So much are we children of association and habit, and
so instinctively and immediately do our feelings adapt themselves to
a total change of circumstances! It is the partial and inconsistent
change only which affects us.”

They now entered the mighty Ganges, and sailing up towards Calcutta
through the Sunderbunds, or rather along their western limit, beheld
their dark impenetrable forests stretching away interminably towards
the right, while a rich vegetable fragrance was wafted from the shore.
The current of the river, when increased by the ebb-tide, was found
as they ascended to be tremendously rapid, running at no less a rate,
according to their pilot, than ten or eleven miles an hour. On arriving
at Calcutta, Heber found that the ecclesiastical business of his
bishopric, at all times multiplex and extensive, had now, since the
death of Dr. Middleton, accumulated prodigiously; so that, although
he had come out neither with the expectation nor the wish to find his
place a sinecure, he felt somewhat alarmed at the laborious prospect
before him. However, he was a man accustomed to labour, and not easily
discouraged. He therefore diligently applied himself to business, and
had soon the satisfaction to find that, notwithstanding the formidable
appearance of things on his first arrival, it was still possible, after
fully performing his duty, which no consideration could induce him
to neglect, to command sufficient leisure for studying whatever was
curious or striking in the natural or moral aspect of Hindostan. Former
travellers, he now found, were, notwithstanding their numbers, very
far from having exhausted the subject, either because the phenomena of
Asiatic manners are, like those of the heavens, in a state of perpetual
change, or because these, continuing the same, which however they do
not, appear under various phases to different men, from being viewed by
each individual from the peculiar point of observation afforded by his
character and acquirements.

In the course of seven months, Heber had achieved that portion of
his task which was to be performed in the capital. Next to this
in importance was his visitation through the Upper Provinces, an
expedition in which he had hoped to be accompanied by his family;
but this being rendered impracticable by the delicate health of his
wife, and the tender age of his infant child, he departed with his
domestic chaplain, Mr. Stowe, in a sixteen-oared pinnace, for Dacca.
The shores of the Ganges, though flat almost throughout Bengal, are
far from wanting in stately or picturesque objects. Lofty pagodas,
with their fantastic angular domes, towering over forests of bamboos,
banyans, and cocoa-trees; ruins of Mussulman palaces; wild tracts of
jungle inhabited by tigers; groves of peepul or tamarind-trees; with
Hindoo villages or hamlets, perched upon artificial mounds to escape
the periodical inundations of the river. But no scene is possessed of
all advantages. There is always some small drawback, to afford man an
excuse for enjoying the delicious pleasure of complaining. “One of the
greatest plagues we have yet met with in this journey,” says Heber, “is
that of the winged bugs. In shape, size, and scent, with the additional
faculty of flying, they resemble the ‘grabbatic’ genus, too well
known in England. The night of our lying off Barrackpoor, they were
troublesome; but when we were off the rajah’s palace, they came out,
like the ghosts of his ancestor’s armies, in hundreds and thousands
from every bush and every heap of ruins, and so filled our cabins as
to make them barely endurable. These unhappy animals crowded round our
candles in such swarms, some just burning their feet and wings on the
edge of the glass shade, and thus toppling over, others, more bold,
flying right into the crater, and meeting their death there, that we
really paid no attention to what was next day a ghastly spectacle,--the
mighty army which had settled on the wet paint of the ceiling, and
remained there, black and stinking, till the ants devoured them. These
last swarm in my pinnace: they have eaten up no inconsiderable portion
of my provisions, and have taken, I trust to their benefit, a whole
box of blue pills; but as they do their best to clear it of all other
vermin, I cannot but look upon them with some degree of favour.”

A gentleman travelling as Heber travelled in India is likely to meet
with few personal adventures. He runs no risk, except from the climate,
and moves on smoothly from one station to another, in that state of
tranquillity which is useful, if not necessary, to calm, dispassionate
observation. Thus our traveller sailed from Calcutta to Dacca, once
renowned for the spaciousness and splendour of its palaces, but now
ruined, deserted, and reduced to be the haunt of bats, serpents, and
every loathsome thing. Here, in an interview with the nawâb, who, like
his imperial master of Delhi, has long been reduced to subsist upon the
bounty of the Company, Heber exhibited that delicate regard for the
feelings of a man,

    Fallen from his high estate,

which a careful observation of his previous life would have led us to
expect from him. Here he had the misfortune to lose Mr. Stowe, his
domestic chaplain, who, by his many excellent and amiable qualities,
had long occupied the place of a friend in his affections.

From Dacca, where his stay was much longer than he had anticipated, he
proceeded up the river. Furreedpoor, his next station, did not long
detain him. Near Rajmahal he approached, but did not visit, the ruins
of Gour, an ancient city, which almost rivalled Babylon or Nineveh
in extent, and which fell to decay, because the Ganges, which once
flowed under its walls, changed its bed, and took another direction,
six or seven miles south of the city. However, on arriving next day
at the town of Rajmahal, to make up in some measure for this loss,
he undertook a short excursion to the ruined palace of Sultan Sujah,
brother of Araungzêbe. “I was a little at a loss,” says he, “to find
my way through the ruins and young jungle, when a man came up, and
in Persian, with many low bows, offered his services. He led me into
a sort of second court, a little lower on the hill, where I saw two
European tombs, and then to three very beautiful arches of black slate,
on pillars of the same, leading into a small but singularly elegant
hall, opening immediately on the river, though a considerable height
above it, through similar arches to those by which we entered. The
roof was vaulted with stone, delicately carved, and the walls divided
by Gothic tracery into panels, still retaining traces of gilding
and Arabic inscriptions. At each end of this beautiful room was a
Gothic arch, in like manner of slate, leading into two small square
apartments, ornamented in the same way, and also opening on the river.
The centre room might be thirty feet long, each of the others fifteen
square. For their size I cannot conceive more delightful apartments.
The view was very fine. The river, as if incensed at having been
obliged to make a circuit round the barrier of the hills, and impeded
here again by the rocks under the castle, sweeps round this corner with
exceeding violence, roaring and foaming like a gigantic Dee. The range
of hills runs to the left-hand, beautiful, blue, and woody.”

From thence he proceeded, as before, up the Ganges, observing whatever
was remarkable, making a short stay at each of the European stations on
his way, for the purpose of preaching or baptizing, and arrived on the
20th of August at Patna. At this city, which is extensive, and situated
in a commanding position, he remained several days, for the purpose
of preaching and administering confirmation. He then continued his
voyage to Ghazeepoor, famous for its rose-gardens and salubrious air.
“The rose-fields, which occupy many hundred acres in the neighbourhood,
are described as, at the proper season, extremely beautiful. They are
cultivated for distillation, and for making ‘attar.’ Rose-water is both
good and cheap here. The price of a seer, or weight of two pounds (a
large quart), of the best, being eight anas, or a shilling. The attar
is obtained after the rose-water is made, by setting it out during the
night and till sunrise in the morning, in large open vessels exposed to
the air, and then skimming off the essential oil which floats at the
top.” “To produce one rupee’s weight of attar, two hundred thousand
well-grown roses are required.” This small quantity, when warranted
genuine, for they begin to adulterate it on the spot, costs one hundred
sicca rupees, or ten pounds sterling.

A short way farther up the stream, Heber quitted his pinnace, and
providing himself with bearers, continued his journey to Benares by
land. Of Benares I have already given a brief description in the Life
of Bernier. Heber’s stay in it was short. He visited with attention its
principal curiosities, and conversed on several points with some of
its Brahminical professors, whose belief in Hindooism he regarded as
very equivocal. He then continued his voyage up the river to Allahabad,
where he dismissed his pinnace, and made the necessary preparations for
performing the remainder of his journey by land. Archdeacon Corrie,
who had accompanied him from Calcutta, and Mr. Lushington, whom he
joined on the way, were now his travelling companions, and with their
attendants helped to increase his motley caravan, which consisted
of twenty-four camels, eight carts drawn by bullocks, twenty-four
horse-servants, ten ponies, forty bearers, and coolies of different
descriptions, twelve tent-pitchers, and a guard of twenty sepoys
under a native officer. With this retinue, which in the eyes of a
European would have had something of a princely air, Heber proceeded
by the way of Cawnpoor to Lucknow, the capital of the kingdom of Oude,
where he enjoyed the honour of breakfasting with the monarch of this
ill-governed state, who, on this occasion at least, appeared desirous
of imitating the manners of the English.

At Lucknow Heber separated from his companions; and, accompanied merely
by his attendants, directed his course towards the wild districts at
the foot of the Himalaya. On arriving at Barelly, not more than fifty
miles distant from the nearest range, he vainly looked out for the
snowy peaks of this “monarch of mountains;” but, instead, discovered
nothing but a ridge of black clouds, and a gray autumnal haze through
which no object was discernible. The features of the country now became
wild and striking. Forests infested by malaria, tigers, and lions,
and half-desolate plains, announced the termination of the fertile
provinces of Hindostan, and the approach to a different region. Here
“we had,” says Heber, “a first view of the range of the Himalaya,[4]
indistinctly seen through the haze, but not so indistinctly as to
conceal the general form of the mountains. The nearer hills are blue,
and in outline and tints resemble pretty closely, at this distance,
those which close in the vale of Clwyd. Above these rose what might,
in the present unfavourable atmosphere, have been taken for clouds,
had not their seat been so stationary, and their outline so harsh and
pyramidical--the patriarchs of the continent, perhaps the surviving
ruins of a former world, white and glistening as alabaster, and even at
this distance, of probably one hundred and fifty miles, towering above
the nearer and secondary range, as much as those last (though said to
be seven thousand six hundred feet high) are above the plain in which
we were standing. I felt intense delight and awe in looking on them,
but the pleasure lasted not many minutes; the clouds closed in again,
as on the fairy castle of St. John, and left us but the former gray
cold horizon, girding in the green plain of Rohiland, and broken only
by people and mango-trees.”

[4] The Himalaya mountains have been said, by some other travellers,
to be visible, in clear weather, from Patna, a distance of two
hundred miles. The fact appears to be by no means improbable. From
the window of the library in which these pages are written, the snowy
mountains of Switzerland and Savoy--Mont Blanc, the Great and Little
St. Bernard, and the peaks of St. Corvin and St. Gothard--are almost
constantly visible during the prevalence of the south-west wind. From
the appearance of these mountains a tolerable idea may be formed of the
aspect of the Himalaya. During summer thin vapours commonly obstruct
the view, except in the early dawn; and if, as sometimes happens, the
white peaks appear in the afternoon, when the sun’s rays are streaming
upon them from the west, they are generally, by the unpractised
observer, mistaken for clouds. But in the cool autumnal mornings just
before the sun rises above the horizon, Mont Blanc, though one hundred
and twenty-five miles distant, is painted with astonishing distinctness
upon the sky, and towering above the sea of white vapour which
overspreads the great plain of Burgundy and rises almost to the summit
of the Jura, seems but a few leagues distant. A little before sunset it
presents a totally different aspect. Instead of the dusky mass which we
beheld in the morning, we discover the “monarch of mountains” clothed
in dazzling white, rising far above every surrounding object; while the
glittering pinnacles of the inferior mountains seem to stretch away
interminably to the right and left, until their peaks are confounded
and lost in the dimness of the horizon. The Mont St. Gothard, which is
very distinctly visible, at least during clear weather, is distant one
hundred and seventy miles from the point of observation. With respect
to Mont Blanc, its whole aspect, when viewed through a good telescope,
is so admirably defined, that every inequality in its surface is
clearly discernible, so that an excellent sketch of it might be taken
from my library. The dark chain of the Jura, which conceals its base,
and stretches from Geneva almost to the Rhine, increases by contrast
the magnificence of the view, which, for extent and grandeur, falls
very little short, perhaps, of any landscape in Europe.

Next day, soon after sunrise, he saw distinctly, painted on a clear
blue sky, the prodigiously lofty pinnacles of these mountains, the
centre of earth,

    Its altar, and its cradle, and its throne,

which, as he justly observes, “are really among the greatest earthly
works of the Almighty Creator’s hands--the highest spots below the
moon--and overtopping by many hundred feet the summits of Cotopaxi and
Chimborazo.” To approach these mountains, however, from the south, the
traveller has to traverse a belt of forest and jungle, where the air
is impregnated with the most deadly qualities. “I asked Mr. Boulderson
if it were true,” says Heber, “that the monkeys forsook these woods
during the unwholesome months. He answered that not the monkeys only,
but every thing which has the breath of life instinctively deserts
them, from the beginning of April to October. The tigers go up to the
hills, the antelopes and wild hogs make incursions into the cultivated
plain; and those persons, such as dâkbearers, or military officers
who are obliged to traverse the forests in the intervening months,
agree that not so much as a bird can be heard or seen in the frightful
solitude.” Yet the insalubrity of these districts is not of any ancient
date. Thirty years ago, though fever and ague were common, the plains
were populous and productive, and considerable progress was made in
reclaiming the forest; but the devastation consequent upon the invasion
of Meer Khan, in 1805, checked the course of population, which has
never since been able to recover itself.

Through this deadly region Heber passed with all possible rapidity,
though the majestic trees which bordered the road, the songs of the
birds in their branches (for it was now November), and the luxuriant
vegetation which on all sides covered the soil, conferred a kind of
syren beauty upon the scene, which tempted the wayfarer to a fatal
pause. At length, after a long, fatiguing march, they found themselves
upon rising ground, at the entrance to a green valley, with woody
mountains on either side, and a considerable river running through it,
dashing over a rocky bottom, with great noise and violence. The scenery
now put on features of surpassing beauty. Mountains, precipices,
narrow romantic dells; with rivers which were sometimes seen, and
sometimes only heard rolling at the bottom of them; trees inhabited by
innumerable white monkeys and singing birds, and copses abounding in
black and purple pheasants. When they had climbed up to a considerable
height upon the lower range of the mountains, there burst suddenly
upon their sight the most awfully magnificent spectacle which the
earth furnishes for the contemplation of man. Language always fails to
convey an adequate conception of the tumultuous delight experienced
in such positions. The mind, wrought upon by history, by poetry, by a
secret hungering after the sublime, instantaneously feels itself in the
presence of objects which, by their prodigious magnitude and elevation,
enhanced by an idea of their unapproachableness, seem for a moment
to surpass the most ambitious aspirations of the imagination, and in
reality carry our thoughts

    Extra flammantia mænia mundi.

Our traveller, standing on the platform from whence the Indian Caucasus
can be most advantageously contemplated, beheld a range of snow-white
pinnacles, which, stretching like an interminable line of shining
spears from east to west, appeared with their glittering points to
pierce the deep blue sky, which formed the ground of this landscape of
unrivalled glory and splendour. At the foot of these mountains stands
Almorah, the last point of Heber’s journey in this direction; whence,
after a short stay, he again descended to the plain, and pursued his
route to Meerut, and thence to Delhi.

The imperial city, the ruins of which extend over a surface as large
as London, is still the residence of the descendants of the Mogul
sovereigns of India. The reader who remembers how superb it was when
visited by Bernier will learn with a melancholy regret that all its
grandeur and power have departed from it, leaving in their stead want,
wretchedness, decay, and disease. Heber was presented to the poor old
man who, as the descendant of Akbar, is still, as it were in mockery,
denominated “Emperor of Delhi.” Those who delight to triumph over
fallen greatness may purchase this pleasure by a journey to Delhi; for
myself, much as I abhor a tyrant, few remote scenes of distress, unless
such in which whole nations are sufferers, could touch me more sensibly
than the misfortunes of this Mogul prince, and I exclaim, with the
prophet, “How are the mighty fallen!” It is true they deserved their
fate--history in their, as in all other cases, justifies the ways of
Providence--but we therefore pity them the more; and, before we lift
up our hand to cast a stone at them, our heart involuntarily forms the
earnest wish that we may by our justice and equity deserve the diadem
which we have wrested from their brows. This consideration is the only
thing which can confer an interest on such a presentation. In every
other point of view it is, like every thing of the kind, a vulgar show,
which has no more meaning than a theatrical exhibition.

From Delhi Heber proceeded to the still more ancient capital of Agra,
where the principal objects of curiosity “are the Motee Musjeed, a
beautiful mosque of white marble, carved with exquisite simplicity
and elegance; and the palace built by Akbar, in a great degree of the
same material, and containing some noble rooms, now sadly disfigured
and destroyed by neglect, and by being used as warehouses, armories,
offices, and lodging-rooms for the garrison. The hall, now used as
the ‘Dewanny Aum,’ or public court of justice, is a splendid edifice,
supported by pillars and arches of white marble, as large and more
nobly simple than that of Delhi. The ornaments, carving, and mosaic of
the smaller apartments, in which was formerly the Zenanah, are equal
or superior to any thing which is described as found in the Alhambra.
The view from those rooms is very fine, at the same time that there
are some, adapted for the hot winds, from which light is carefully
excluded. This suite is lined with small mirrors in fantastic frames;
a cascade of water, also surrounded by mirrors, has been made to gush
from a recess at the upper end, and marble channels, beautifully inlaid
with cornelians, agates, and jasper, convey the stream to every side
of the apartment.” Heber likewise visited the Taj-mahal, which I have
described in the Life of Bernier, and observes, that after hearing its
praises ever since he had been in India, its beauty rather exceeded
than fell short of his expectations. After holding a confirmation,
at which about forty persons were made full members of the Christian
church, our traveller departed from Agra, and commenced his journey
across the independent states of Western India. During this portion of
his travels he obtained, from unexceptionable authority, an account
of the gorgeous style in which that fortunate adventurer, Sir David
Ochterlony, lived in Central India. “Dr. Smith,” he observes, “in his
late march from Mhow to Meerut, passed by Sir David’s camp. The ‘barra
sahib,’ or great man, was merely travelling with his own family and
personal followers from Delhi to Jyepoor, but his retinue, including
servants, escort, European and native aids-de-camp, and the various
nondescripts of an Asiatic train, together with the apparatus of
horses, elephants, and camels--the number of his tents, and the size
of the enclosure, hung round with red cloth, by which his own and his
daughter’s private tents were fenced in from the eyes of the profane,
were what a European, or even an old Indian whose experience had been
confined to Bengal, would scarcely be brought to credit.”

Our traveller’s journey through Rajpootana was attended by
circumstances flattering to his personal feelings. The petty
sovereigns through whose dominions his route lay invariably received
him hospitably when he visited their capitals, and on some occasions,
when he did not choose to diverge so far from the road, sent messengers
expressly to meet him on the way with polite invitations to their
court. He pushed on, however, with considerable expedition, and
having traversed the territories, and beheld the capitals of Jyepoor,
Ajmere, Bunaira, and others, proceeded, by way of Neemuch and Baroda,
to Bombay. His time, during his stay in this city, was principally
occupied with ecclesiastical business, in promoting the founding
of schools, and in conversing with that venerable statesman and
traveller, Mr. Elphinstone, the governor, who, from the most humane and
enlightened motives, has endeavoured, with success, to diffuse among
the natives a knowledge of our literature and sciences. Here Heber had
the satisfaction of being joined by his wife and elder child. With
these, shortly afterward, he visited the cavern temples of Elephanta
and Kennery; and subsequently, in company with Archdeacon Barnes,
made an excursion across the Western Ghants to Poonah, in the Deccan,
during which he enjoyed an opportunity of examining another celebrated
cavern temple at Carlee. I cannot refuse myself the pleasure, or
deprive the reader of the advantage, of inserting in this place the
character which Heber has drawn of the most extraordinary man whom he
encountered during his travels. “Mr. Elphinstone,” says he, “is in
every respect an extraordinary man, possessing great activity of body
and mind; remarkable talent for and application to public business; a
love of literature, and a degree of almost universal information, such
as I have met with in no other person similarly situated, and manners
and conversation of the most amiable and interesting character. While
he has seen more of India and the adjoining countries than any man
now living, and has been engaged in active political and sometimes
military duties since the age of eighteen, he has found time, not only
to cultivate the languages of Hindostan and Persia, but to preserve
and extend his acquaintance with the Greek and Latin classics, with
the French and Italian, with all the elder and more distinguished
English writers, and with the current and popular literature of the
day, both in poetry, history, politics, and political economy. With
these remarkable accomplishments, and notwithstanding a temperance
amounting to rigid abstinence, he is fond of society; and it is a
common subject of surprise with his friends, at what hour of the day or
night he found time for the acquisition of knowledge. His policy, so
far as India is concerned, appeared to me peculiarly wise and liberal,
and he is evidently attached to, and thinks well of, the country and
its inhabitants. His public measures, in their general tendency, evince
a steady wish to improve their present condition. No government in
India pays so much attention to schools and public institutions for
education. In none are the taxes lighter; and in the administration of
justice to the natives in their own languages, in the establishment of
punchacts, in the degree in which he employs the natives in official
situations, and the countenance and familiarity which he extends to
all the natives of rank who approach him, he seems to have reduced to
practice almost all the reforms which had struck me as most required
in the system of government pursued in those provinces of our eastern
empire which I had previously visited.”

From Bombay, Heber sailed with his wife and daughter to Ceylon, a large
portion of which he visited. He then proceeded to Calcutta. On the 30th
of January, 1826, shortly after his recovery from a fever, he again
quitted his family for the purpose of visiting Madras and the southern
provinces of India. At Madras he was received with great kindness by
Sir Thomas Munro, who was warmly desirous of rendering his position
as little disagreeable as the season and climate would permit. From
thence he proceeded through Caddalore and Tanjore to Trichinopoly,
where, on the 3d of April, 1826, his pious, active, and valuable life
was closed. “It were a useless,” says Mrs. Heber, “and a deeply painful
task to enter into any detail of the apparent cause of his death: it is
sufficient to say that disease had, unsuspected, been existing for some
time; and that it was the opinion of all the medical men in attendance,
that under no circumstances could his invaluable life have been very
long preserved, though the event was undoubtedly hastened by the
effects of climate, by intense mental application to those duties which
increased in interest with every step he took, and was finally caused
by the effects of cold on a frame exhausted by heat and fatigue.” His
mortal remains were attended to the grave with the highest honours, and
followed by the tears of the inhabitants of Trichinopoly. They rest on
the north side of the altar in St. John’s Church.



THE END.



Transcriber’s Notes


A number of typographical errors were corrected silently.

Cover image is in the public domain.



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