FRANÇOIS BERNIER.
Born about 1624.—Died 1688.
This distinguished traveller was born at Angers about the year 1624. Though educated for the medical profession, and actuated in an extraordinary manner by that ardour for philosophical speculation which pervaded his literary contemporaries, the passion for travelling prevailed over every other; so that, having prepared himself by severe study for visiting distant countries with advantage, and taken his doctor’s degree at Montpellier, he departed from France in the year 1654, and passed over into Syria. From thence he proceeded to Egypt, where he remained upwards of a year. In this country he assiduously occupied himself in inquiries respecting the sources of the Nile, the time and manner of its rise, the causes and nature of the plague, and the fall of that dew which is said to deprive its virus of all activity. Being at Rosetta eight or ten days after this dew had shed its mysterious moisture over the earth, he had an opportunity, which had like to have cost him dear, of discovering the absurdity of the popular belief upon this subject. He was at supper with a party of friends at the house of M. Bermon, vice-consul of France, when three persons were suddenly stricken with the plague. Of these, two died in the course of eight days; and the third, who was M. Bermon himself, seemed likely to follow their example, when our medical traveller undertook the treatment of his disease. What medicines he administered to his patient he has not stated, but he lanced the pestiferous pustules which rose upon the skin; and either by performing this operation, or by inhaling the infected atmosphere of the sick chamber, himself caught the infection. The patient now recovered, while the physician in turn became the prey of disease. When Bernier perceived himself to be in the plague, the first step he took was to swallow an emetic of butter of antimony, which, together with the natural force of his constitution, subdued the disorder, and enabled him in the course of three or four days to resume his ordinary pursuits. He was, perhaps, somewhat indebted to his Bedouin attendant for the preservation of his cheerfulness and tranquillity during his illness. This man, relying, or appearing to rely, upon the doctrine of predestination, in order to cheer and encourage him, by showing him how lightly he thought of the matter, used daily to eat the remainder of the food which his sick master had touched.
Having satisfied his curiosity respecting Egypt, and visited Mount Sinai and the neighbouring deserts, he proceeded to Suez, and embarked in an Arab vessel for Jidda. The Turkish bey, then governor of this post, had deluded him with the hope of being able to visit Mecca and the Kaaba, places interdicted to all Christians; but having waited for this permission thirty-four days, and perceiving no likelihood of obtaining it, he again embarked; and sailing for fifteen days along the coast of Arabia Felix, or Yeman, arrived at Mokha, near the straits of Babelmandel. During his stay in this city, he partook of the hospitality of Murad, an Armenian Christian, and a native of Aleppo, but who had settled in Abyssinia, whence he was now come into Arabia with a number of black slaves to be disposed of for the benefit of the Abyssinian king, from whom he likewise bore the customary annual present which that august monarch made to the English and Dutch East India companies, in the hope of receiving one of greater value in return. With the proceeds of the slaves Indian merchandise was purchased; so that in exchange for a few useless subjects, his Abyssinian majesty annually received a large quantity of fine muslins, spices, and diamonds. With this honest Armenian merchant our traveller had a very characteristic transaction, which, although it happened some time after the visit to Mokha, may very well come in here. Murad, it seems, in addition to his Aleppine wife, maintained a harem of Nubian or Abyssinian girls, by one of whom he had a son, who to the pure black complexion of his mother united the fine handsome features peculiar to the Caucasian race. This noble little fellow Murad, who was desirous of turning the produce of his harem to account, offered to sell M. Bernier for fifty rupees; but observing that his guest was extremely anxious to possess the prize, he suddenly changed his mind, and refused to part with his darling son for less than three hundred rupees. At this strange instance of rapacity our traveller became offended, and broke off the negotiation; though, as he tells us, he was peculiarly desirous of concluding the bargain, as much for the sake of the boy as for the purpose of seeing a father sell his own child. There seems, however, to be some reason for suspecting that the Armenian was not quite so nearly related to the boy as he pretended, his paternity being in all probability feigned, for the purpose of enhancing the price of his little slave.
From Mokha it was Bernier’s intention to have crossed the Red Sea to the island of Mesowa and Arkiko, from whence he expected an easy passage might be obtained into the country of Habesh or Abyssinia. To dissuade him from his purpose, however, Murad and others, who might, perhaps, have had some sinister motives for their conduct, assured him, that since the expulsion of the Jesuits, effected by the intrigues of the queen-mother, no Roman Catholic was secure in the country, where a poor Capuchin friar, who attempted to enter it by way of Snakin, had recently lost his head. These and other considerations turned the current of his ideas. He abandoned Africa, and, embarking on board of an Indian ship bound for Surat, sought the shores of Hindostan.
On the arrival of our traveller in India, those fratricidal wars between the sons of Shah Johan, which terminated with the dethronement of the aged emperor and the accession of Aurungzebe to the throne of Delhi, had already commenced, and confusion, terror, and anarchy prevailed throughout the empire. Nevertheless Bernier hastened to the capital, where, finding that partly by robbery, partly by the ordinary expenses of travelling, his finances had been reduced to a very low ebb, he contrived to be appointed one of the physicians to the Great Mogul.
About twelve months before Bernier’s appointment to this office, the emperor, who, though upwards of seventy, was immoderately addicted to the excesses of the harem, had become grievously ill from that disorder, it is supposed, which cut off untimely the chivalrous rival of the Emperor Charles V. His four sons imagining, and all, indeed, excepting the eldest, ardently desiring, that he might be drawing near his end, had at once rushed to arms, and with powerful armaments collected in their various subahs, or governments, had advanced towards the capital, each animated by the hope of opening himself a way to musnud through the hearts of his brethren. Their battles, negotiations, intrigues, and mutual treachery, though related in a vivid and energetic manner by Bernier, can find no place in this narrative. Aurungzebe, having defeated and put to flight the Rajah Jesswunt Singh, was now advancing towards the capital, when his eldest brother, Dara, incensed at his audacity, and naturally impatient of delay, advanced with the imperial army towards the Chumbul and that range of mountain passes which extends between the Jumna and Guzerat. Here a battle was fought, in which Aurungzebe was victor. Dara, with the wretched remnant of his forces, fled towards Ahmedabad, the ancient Mohammedan capital of Guzerat. In this miserable plight he was met by Bernier, whom the prince, who had known him at Delhi, and had now no medical attendant, compelled to follow in his train. In the East misfortune is singularly efficacious in thinning the ranks of a prince’s retinue. Dara was now accompanied by little more than two thousand men, and this number, moreover, was daily diminished by the peasantry of the country, a wild and savage race, who hung upon his rear, pillaging and murdering all those who lagged for a moment behind the body of the army. It was now the midst of summer; the heat was tremendous; and the fugitives, without baggage or tents, had to make their way over the naked sandy plains of Ajmere, by day exposed to the intolerable rays of the sun, and by night to the dews and chilling blasts which sometimes issue from the northern mountains. However, the prince and his followers pushed on rapidly, and now began to entertain some hopes of safety, having approached to within one day’s journey of Ahmedabad, the governor of which had been promoted to the post by Dara himself. But the emissaries and the gold of Aurungzebe had already done their work at Ahmedabad. The treacherous governor, on hearing of the near approach of the prince, wrote to prohibit his drawing nearer the city, informing him that if he persisted he would find the gates shut, and the people in arms against him. On the evening before this news was brought to him, Dara had taken refuge with his harem in a caravansary, into which, in spite of the natural aversion of all orientals to introduce strangers among the women of their anderûn, he kindly invited Bernier, apprehending lest the sanguinary peasantry should beat out his brains in the darkness. Here it was melancholy to see the shifts to which this unfortunate prince was driven to have recourse for the preserving, even in this last extremity, of the dignity of his harem; for, possessing neither tent nor any other effectual covering, he caused a few slight screens to be fixed up, in order to maintain some semblance of seclusion, and these were kept steady by being tied to the wheels of Bernier’s wagon.
Meanwhile, as the determination of the governor of Ahmedabad was not yet known, the most intense anxiety prevailed among the fugitives. Every gust which moaned along the surrounding waste appeared to their half-slumbering senses to announce the approach of some messenger. The hours, which seem to flit away so rapidly when men are happy, now appeared so many ages. Time and the wheeling stars above their heads seemed to stand still; and their very souls were sick with expectation. At length, as the red dawn began to appear in the east, a single horseman was discovered scouring across the plain. His tidings from Ahmedabad were such as have been related above. Upon hearing this dreadful intelligence, the ladies of the harem, who had hitherto consoled themselves with the hope of tasting a little repose in that city, which had become a kind of land of promise in their eyes, gave themselves up wholly to despair, and tears, sobs, and the most passionate lamentations burst unrestrainedly forth, and brought tears into the eyes of many not much used to weeping. Every thing was now thrown into the utmost trouble and confusion. Each person looked at the face of his neighbour, in the hope of discovering some ray of consolation, some sign of counsel, fore-thought, or magnanimity. But all was blank. Not a soul could advise any thing for the general safety, or knew how to avert the doom which impended over himself. Presently, however, Dara, half-dead with grief, came out to his people, and addressed himself now to one person, now to another, even to the meanest soldier. He perceived that terror had seized upon every soul, and that they were all about to abandon him. What was to be his fate? Whither could he fly? It was necessary to depart instantly. The condition of the army may be conjectured from that of our traveller. The wagon in which he travelled had been drawn by three large Guzerat oxen, one of which had died on the previous day from fatigue, another was now dying, and the third was wholly unable to move. Nevertheless, the prince, who stood in need of his aid both for himself and for one of his wives, who had been wounded in the leg, found it absolutely impossible to procure either horse, ox, or camel for his use, and was therefore compelled to leave him behind. Bernier saw him depart with tears in his eyes, accompanied at most by four or five horsemen, and two elephants said to be loaded with silver and gold. He struck off towards Tettabakar, through pathless deserts of sand, where, for the most part, not a drop of water was to be found; and though, as afterward appeared, he actually succeeded in reaching the point of destination, several of his followers, and, indeed, many of his harem, died by the way of thirst or fatigue, or were murdered by the banditti.
Bernier, being thus abandoned by the ill-fated prince, in a country overrun with robbers, was at a loss what course to pursue. The circumstances of the moment, however, left him no time for deliberation; for no sooner had Dara and his train disappeared than our traveller’s wagon was surrounded by the banditti, who forthwith commenced the work of plunder. Fortunately, his servant and driver preserved their presence of mind, and, addressing themselves to the marauders, began to inquire whether they would thus pillage the effects of a man who was the first physician in the world, and had already been deprived of the most valuable part of his property by the satellites of Dara. At the mention of the word physician these fierce banditti, who, like all barbarians, entertained a kind of innate reverence for the children of Esculapius, were rendered as mild as gazelles, and their hostile intentions were changed into friendship. They now regarded this second Pæon as their guest, and, having detained him seven or eight days, kindly furnished him with an ox to draw his wagon, and served him as guides and guards until the towers of Ahmedabad appeared in sight. At this city he remained several days, when an emir, returning thence to Delhi, afforded him the protection of his authority, and enabled him to perform the journey with safety. The road over which they travelled exhibited numerous traces of the calamities of the times, being strewed at intervals with the dead bodies of men, elephants, camels, horses, and oxen, the wrecks of the wretched army of Dara.
Aurungzebe, having outwitted and imprisoned his father, was now in possession of Delhi and the imperial throne, and exerted all the force of his versatile and subtle genius to gain possession of the persons of his enemies. Dara, the principal of these, was soon afterward betrayed into his hands, and brought to Delhi upon an elephant, bound hand and foot, with an executioner behind him, who upon the least movement was to cut off his head. When he arrived at the gate of the city, Aurungzebe began to deliberate whether it would be altogether safe, under present circumstances, to parade him in this style through the streets, considering the affection which the people had always borne him; but it was at length determined to hazard the step, for the purpose of convincing those who admired him of his utter fall, and of the consequent extinction of their hopes. His rich garments, his jewelled turban, his magnificent necklace of pearls, had been taken from him, and a dirty and miserable dress, such as would have suited some poor groom, bestowed in their stead; and thus habited, and mounted with his little son upon a poor half-starved elephant, he was led through the streets, lanes, and bazaars of the capital, that the people might behold the fortune of their favourite, and despair of his ever rising again. Expecting that some strange revolution or horrible slaughter would inevitably ensue, Bernier had repaired on horseback, with a small party of friends and two stout servants, to the grand bazaar, where the most prodigious crowds were assembled, in order to witness whatever might take place; but although the multitude burst into tears at the sight, and overwhelmed the wretch who had betrayed him, and was then on horseback by his side, with the most dire imprecations, not a sword was drawn, or a drop of blood spilt.
During the course of these public events Bernier became physician to Danekmand Khan, the favourite of Aurungzebe. Upon this appointment, he seems to have been introduced at court, and presented to the emperor; upon which occasion he kissed the hem of the imperial garment, and offered, for so custom ordered, eight rupees as a gift to the richest sovereign upon earth. He was now perfectly at his ease, enjoying, besides a liberal salary, which seems to have answered all his wishes, the friendship of the khan, a learned, inquisitive, and generous-minded man, who devoted those hours which others spent in debauchery to the discussion of philosophical questions, and conversations on the merits of Descartes and Gassendi. By the favour of this nobleman the entry to the palace was open to him on all public occasions. He witnessed the audience of foreign ambassadors, the pomp of the imperial banquets, and was admitted, under certain circumstances, into the recesses of the harem.
Upon the termination of the civil wars, the Usbecks of Balkh and Samarcand, who, having formerly offered a grievous insult to Aurungzebe when he seemed little likely to ascend the imperial musnud, had now some reason to apprehend the effects of his resentment, despatched ambassadors to congratulate him upon his accession to the throne, and to make him a tender of their services. When these barbarians were admitted to an audience, Bernier, according to custom, was present. Being admitted into the imperial chamber, they made, while yet at a considerable distance from the throne, their salām to the emperor, after the Indian manner. This ceremony consisted in thrice placing the hand upon the head, and as frequently lowering it to the earth; after which they advanced so near the throne that, had he chosen to do so, the emperor might have taken their letters from their own hands; but this compliment he did not condescend to pay them, ordering one of his emirs to receive and present them to him. Having perused these letters with a serious air, he caused each of the ambassadors to be presented with a robe of brocade, a turban, and a scarf or girdle of embroidered silk. The presents were then brought forward. They consisted of several boxes of lapis lazuli, a number of long-haired camels, several magnificent Tartarian horses, with many camel-loads of fresh fruit, such as apples, pears, grapes, and melons, articles which their country usually furnished for the Delhi market, and an equal quantity of dried fruits, as Bokham prunes, Kishmish apricots or grapes without stones, and two other species of fine large grapes. Aurungzebe bestowed high commendations upon each article as it was presented, praised the generosity of the khans, and having made some few inquiries respecting the academy of Samarcand, dismissed the ambassadors with the complimentary wish that he might see them frequently.
These honest men, who were exceedingly pleased at their reception, were nevertheless constrained to wait four months at Delhi before they could obtain their dismissal; during which time they all fell sick, and many of them died, rather, according to Bernier, from the bad quality of their food, and their contempt of cleanliness, than from the effect of the climate. Judging from this specimen, our traveller pronounced the Usbecks the most avaricious and sordid people upon earth; for, though furnished by the emperor with the means of living, they preferred defrauding their stomachs and hazarding their lives, to the idea of parting with their gold, and subsisted in a very wretched and mean style. When dismissed, however, they were treated with great distinction. The emperor and all his emirs presented them with rich dresses and eight thousand rupees each; together with splendid robes, a large quantity of exquisitely flowered brocade, bales of fine muslin, and of silk striped with gold or silver, and a number of carpets and two jewelled khaudjars, or poniards, for their masters.
In the hope of learning something respecting their country, Bernier frequently visited them during their stay, but found them so grossly ignorant that they were unable to make any important additions to his knowledge. They invited him to dinner, however, and thus afforded his curiosity a glance at their domestic manners. Among them a stranger, as might be expected, was not overwhelmed with ceremony, and so far they were polite. The viands, which our traveller considered extraordinary, consisted of excellent horse-flesh, a very good ragout, and an abundance of pilau, which his robust hosts found so much to their taste, that during the repast they could not snatch a single moment to waste on conversation. Their guest, with infinite good taste, imitated their example, made a hearty dinner; and then, when the horse-flesh, pilau, and all had been devoured, they found their tongue, and entertained him with panegyrics upon their own skill in archery, and the amazonian prowess and ferocity of their women. In illustration of the latter, they related an anecdote which, as highly characteristic, may be worth repeating. When Aurungzebe formerly led an army against the khan of Samarcand, a party of twenty or thirty Hindoo horsemen attacked a small village, which they plundered, and were engaged in binding a number of the inhabitants whom they intended to dispose of as slaves, when an old woman came up to them and said, “My children, be not so cruel. My daughter, who is not greatly addicted to mercy, will be here presently. Retire, if you are wise. Should she meet with you, you are undone.” The soldiers, however, not only laughed at the old woman and her counsel, but seized and tied her also. They had not proceeded above half a league with their booty, when their aged prisoner, who never ceased turning her eyes towards the village, uttered a scream of joy, for by the cloud of dust which she beheld rising on the plain she knew her daughter was advancing to the rescue. On turning round, the soldiers beheld the amazon mounted on a fiery war-horse, with her bow and quiver by her side. She now raised her stentorian voice, and commanded them as they valued their lives to release their prisoners, and carry back whatever they had taken to the village, in which case she would spare them. But they regarded her menaces no more than they had those of her mother. When three or four of the party, however, had felt the point of her arrows in their heart, and were stretched upon the earth, they began to be a little more alarmed, and had recourse to their own bows. But all their arrows fell short of the mark, while her powerful bow and arm sent every weapon home, so that she quickly despatched the greater number of her enemies, and having dispersed and terrified the remainder, rushed upon them sabre in hand, and hewed them to pieces.
During the number of years which Bernier spent in Hindostan in a position peculiarly favourable to observation, he possessed ample leisure for correcting and maturing his opinions. His views, therefore, are entitled to the highest respect, the more especially as no trait of gasconading is visible in his character, and no touch of rhetorical flourishing in his style. His countrymen, in general, assuming Paris as the standard of whatever is noble or beautiful in architecture, describe every thing which differs from their type as inferior; but Bernier, whom philosophy had delivered from this paltry nationality, without depreciating the capital of his own country, observes, that whatever might be its beauties, they would be but so many defects could the city be transported to the plains of Hindostan, the climate requiring other modes of building, and different arrangements. Delhi was, in fact, a magnificent city in his times. Whatever Asia could furnish of barbaric pomp or gorgeous show was there collected together, and disposed with as much taste as Mongol or Persian art could give birth to. Domes of vast circumference and fantastic swell crowned the summits of the mosques, and towered aloft above the other structures of the city; palaces, cool, airy, grotesque, with twisted pillars, balustrades of silver, and roofs of fretted gold; elephants moving their awkward and cumbrous bulk to and fro, disguised in glittering housings, and surmounted with golden houdahs; and gardens, shaded and perfumed by all the most splendid trees and sweetest flowers of Asia: such were the principal features of Delhi.
Our traveller did not at first relish the Mussulman music, its loud ear-piercing tones being too powerful for his tympanum. By degrees, however, their hautboys of a fathom and a half in length, and their cymbals of copper or iron not less than a fathom in circumference, which appeared to make the very earth tremble with their tremendous clangour, became familiar to his ear, and seemed delightfully musical, particularly at night, when he lay awake in his lofty bedchamber, and heard their loud symphonies from a distance. In a range of turrets within the palace, before which this martial music was daily heard, was situated the harem, or seraglio, as it was termed by Europeans in those days. This mysterious part of the palace Bernier traversed but did not see, having been called in to prescribe for a great lady of the court, but conducted by a eunuch blindfold, or with a cashmere shawl thrown over his head and descending to his feet, through the various chambers and passages. He learned, however, from the eunuchs, that the harem contained very noble apartments, each of which was furnished with its reservoir of running water, and opened upon gardens, with covered walks, dusky bowers, grottoes, streams, fountains, and immense caves, into which the ladies retired during the heat of the day. Thus the inconveniences of the climate were never felt in this secluded paradise. The most delightful portion of this part of the palace, according to the eunuchs, was a small tower covered with plates of gold, and glittering on the inside with azure, gold, mirrors, and the richest and most exquisite pictures. It overlooked the Jumna, and thence the ladies could enjoy a fine prospect and the coolest air.
Though by no means liable to be dazzled by pompous exhibitions, Bernier could not refuse his admiration to the Great Mogul’s hall of audience, and the splendour of the peacock throne. In fact, the appearance of this hall upon one of the principal Mohammedan festivals he considered one of the most remarkable things which he saw during his travels. Upon entering the spacious and lofty saloon the first object which met the eye was the emperor himself seated upon his throne, and attired in the most magnificent and gorgeous style of the East. His robe was composed of white satin with small flowers, relieved by a rich border of silk and gold; his turban, of stiff cloth of gold, was adorned with an aigrette, the stem of which was crusted with diamonds of prodigious size and value, in the midst of which a large oriental topaz of unparalleled beauty blazed like a mimic sun; while a string of large pearls fell from his neck upon his bosom, like the beads of a devotee. The throne was supported upon six large feet of massive gold, set with rubies, emeralds, and diamonds. But its principal ornament were two peacocks, whose feathers were imitated by a crust of pearls and jewels. The real value of this throne could not be exactly ascertained, but it was estimated at four azores, or forty millions of rupees.—At the foot of the throne stood all the numerous emirs or princes of the court, magnificently apparelled, with a canopy of brocade with golden fringe overhead, and all round a balustrade of massive silver, to separate them from the crowd of ordinary mortals, who took their station without. The whole riches of the empire seemed collected there in one heap, for the purpose of dazzling and astonishing the crowd. The pillars of the saloon were hung round with brocade with a gold ground, and the whole of the end near the throne was shaded with canopies of flowered satin, attached with silken cords and nets of gold. Upon the floor immense silken carpets, of singular fineness and beauty, were spread for the feet of the courtiers. In short, wherever the eye could turn, the heart and secret thoughts of the assembly not being visible, its glances alighted upon a blaze of grandeur, above, around, below, until the aching sight would gladly have sought repose among the serener and more soothing beauties of external nature.
In the several visits which Bernier made to Agra, the object which principally attracted his attention was the celebrated taj, or tomb, of Nourmahal, the favourite wife of Shah Jehan, which he considered far more worthy than the pyramids to be enumerated among the wonders of the world. Leaving the city and proceeding towards the east, through a long, broad street, running between lofty garden-walls and fine new houses, he entered the imperial gardens. Here numerous structures, varying in their forms, yet all possessing their peculiar beauties, courted observation; but the enormous dome of the mausoleum, rising like the moon “inter minora sidera,” immediately absorbed all his attention. To the right and left dim covered walks and parterres of flowers yielded soft glimpses of shadow and a breeze of perfume as he moved along. At length he arrived in front of the building. In the centre rose a vast dome, which, together with the tall, slender minarets on both sides of it, was supported by a range of beautiful arches, partly closed up by a wall, and partly open. The façade of the structure consisted entirely of marble, white like alabaster; and in the centre of the closed arches were tablets of the same material, thickly inlaid with verses from the Koran, wrought in black marble. The interior of the dome was bordered, like the exterior, with white marble, thickly inlaid with jasper, cornelian, and lapis lazuli, delicately disposed in the form of flowers and other beautiful objects. The pavement was formed of alternate squares of black and white marble, disposed with singular art, and producing the finest effect imaginable upon the eye.
In the month of December, 1663, Aurungzebe, attended by his whole court, and an army of ten thousand foot and thirty-five thousand horse, undertook a journey into Cashmere, in the pleasures of which, through the favour of Danekmend Khan, Bernier was allowed to partake. Keeping as long as possible near the banks of the Jumna, in order to enjoy by the way the pleasures of the chase, and the salubrious waters of the river, the army proceeded towards its place of destination by the way of Lahere. The style of travelling adopted by the Great Mogul was perfectly unique. Two sets of tents numerous and spacious enough to contain the whole of the imperial retinue were provided, and of these one set was sent forward, previous to the emperor’s setting out, to the spot marked out for the first halting-place. Here the ground was levelled by the pioneers, the tents pitched, and every convenience provided which the luxurious effeminacy of oriental courtiers, and more particularly of the fretful and capricious inmates of the harem, could require. When the emperor arrived at his camp, a fresh body of pioneers and labourers proceeded with the second set of tents, which they pitched and prepared in like manner; and thus a kind of city, with all its luxuries and conveniences, perpetually moved in advance of the prince, and became stationary whenever and wherever he required it.
During the journey Aurungzebe generally travelled in a species of small turret or houdah, mounted on the back of an elephant. In fine weather this houdah was open on all sides, that the inmate might enjoy the cool breeze from whatever quarter of the heavens it might blow; but when storms or showers came on, he closed his casements, and reclined upon his couch, defended from all the inclemencies of the weather as completely as in the apartments of his palace. Ranchenara Begum, the sister of the emperor, and the other great ladies of the harem, travelled in the same kind of moving palace, mounted upon camels or elephants, and presented a spectacle which Bernier delighted to contemplate. In general the blinds or casements of these splendid little mansions of gold, scarlet, and azure, were closed, to preserve the charms of those within from “Phœbus’ amorous kisses,” or the profane gaze of the vulgar; but once, as the gorgeous cavalcade moved along, our traveller caught a glimpse of the interior of Ranchenara’s mikdembar, and beheld the princess reclined within, while a little female slave fanned away the dust and flies from her face with a bunch of peacock’s feathers. A train of fifty or sixty elephants similarly, though less splendidly, appointed, moving along with grave, solemn pace, surrounded by so vast a retinue as that which now accompanied the court, appeared in the eyes of our traveller to possess something truly royal in its aspect, and with the beauteous goddesses which the fancy placed within, seem, in spite of his affected philosophical indifference, to have delighted him in a very extraordinary manner. True philosophy, however, would have admired the show, while it condemned the extravagance, and despised the pride and effeminacy which produced it.
In this manner the court proceeded through Lahore and the plains of the Pundjâb towards Cashmere; but as their motions were slow, they were overtaken in those burning hollows which condensed and reflected back the rays of the sun like a vast burning-glass, by the heats of summer, which are there little less intense than on the shores of the Persian Gulf. No sooner had the sun appeared above the horizon than the heat became insupportable. Not a cloud stained the firmament; not a breath of air stood upon the earth. Every herb was scorched to cinders; and throughout the wide horizon nothing appeared but an interminable plain of dust below, and above a brazen or coppery sky, glowing like the mouth of a furnace. The horses, languid and worn out, could scarcely drag their limbs along; the very Hindoos themselves, who seem designed to revel in sunshine, began to droop, and our traveller, who had braved the climate of Egypt and the Arabian deserts, writing from the camp, on the tenth day of their march from Lahore, exclaims, “My whole face, hands, and feet are flayed, and my whole body is covered with small red pustules which prick like needles. Yesterday, one of our horsemen, who happened to have no tent, was found dead at the foot of a tree, which he had grasped in his last agonies. I doubt whether I shall be able to hold out till night. All my hopes rest upon a little curds which I steep in water, and on a little sugar, with four or five lemons. The very ink is dried up at the point of my pen, and the pen itself drops from my hand. Adieu.”
His frame, however, was much tougher than he imagined; and he continued to proceed with the rest, till having crossed the Chenâb, one of the five rivers, they ascended Mount Bember, and found themselves in Cashmere, the Tempé of Hindostan. The traditions of the Hindoos respecting the formation of this beautiful valley greatly resemble those which prevailed among the Greeks about that of Thessaly, both being said to have been originally a lake enclosed by lofty mountains, which having, been rent by the agency of earthquakes, or bored by human industry, suffered the waters to escape. Whatever was its origin, the Indian Tempé, though vaunted by less renowned poets, is no way inferior in fertility or beauty to the Thessalian. Fields clothed with eternal green, and sprinkled thick with violets, roses, narcissuses, and other delicate or fragrant flowers, which here grow wild, meet the eye on all sides; while, to divide or diversify them, a number of small streams of crystal purity, and several lakes of various dimensions, glide or sparkle in the foreground of the landscape. On all sides round arise a range of low green hills, dotted with trees, and affording a delicious herbage to the gazelle and other graminivorous animals; while the pinnacles of the Himalaya, pointed, jagged, and broken into a thousand fantastic forms, rear their snowy heads behind, and pierce beyond the clouds. From these unscaleable heights, amid which the imagination of the Hindoo has placed his heaven, ever bright and luminous, innumerable small rivulets descend to the valley; and after rushing in slender cataracts over projecting rocks, and peopling the upland with noise and foam, submit to the direction of the husbandman, and spread themselves in artificial inundations over the fields and gardens below. These numerous mountain-torrents, which unite into one stream before they issue from the valley, may be regarded as the sources of the Jylum or Hydaspes, one of the mightiest rivers of Hindostan.
The beauty and fertility of Cashmere are equalled by the mildness and salubrity of the climate. Here the southern slopes of the hills are clothed with the fruits and flowers of Hindostan; but pass the summit, and you find upon the opposite side the productions of the temperate zone, and the features of a European landscape. The fancy of Bernier, escaping from the curb of his philosophy, ran riot among these hills, which, with their cows, their goats, their gazelles, and their innumerable bees, might, like the promised land, be said to flow with milk and honey.
The inhabitants of this terrestrial paradise, who were as beautiful as their climate, possessed the reputation of being superior in genius and industry to the rest of the Hindoos. The arts and sciences flourished among them; and their manufactures of palanquins, bedsteads, coffers, cabinets, spoons, and inlaid work, were renowned throughout the East. But the fabric which tended most powerfully to diffuse their reputation for ingenuity were their shawls, those soft and exquisite articles of dress which, from that day to this, have enjoyed the patronage of the fair throughout the world. In the days of Bernier these shawls were comparatively little known in Europe; yet his account of them, though highly accurate as far as it goes, is brief and rather unsatisfactory.
During the three or four months which he spent in this beautiful country he made several excursions to the surrounding mountains, where, amid the wildest and most majestic scenery, he beheld with wonder, he tells us, the natural succession of generation and decay. At the bottom of many precipitous abysses, where man’s foot had never descended, he saw hundreds of enormous trunks, hurled down by time, and heaped upon each other in decay; while at their foot, or between their crumbling branches, young ones were shooting up and flourishing. Some of the trees were scorched and burnt, either blasted by the thunderbolt, or, according to the traditions of the peasantry, set on fire in the heat of summer by rubbing against each other, when agitated by fierce burning winds.
The court, having visited Cashmere from motives of pleasure, were determined to taste every species of it which the country could supply; the wild and sublime, which must be sought with toil and difficulty, as well as those more ordinary ones which lay strewed like flowers upon the earth. The emperor accordingly, or at least his harem, ascended the lower range of hills, to enjoy the prospect of abyss and precipice, impending woods, dusky and horrible, and streams rushing forth from their dark wombs, and leaping with thundering and impetuous fury over cliffs of prodigious elevation. One of these small cataracts appeared to Bernier the most perfect thing of the kind in the world; and Jehangheer, who passed many years in Cashmere, had caused a neighbouring rock, from which it could be contemplated to most advantage, to be levelled, in order to behold it at his ease. Here a kind of theatre was raised by Aurungzebe, for the accommodation of his court; and there they sat, viewing with wondering delight this sublime work of Nature, surpassing in grandeur, and by the emotions to which it gave birth, all the wonders of man’s hand. In this instance the stream was beheld at a considerable distance rolling along its weight of waters down the slope of the mountain, through a sombre channel overhung with trees. Arriving at the edge of a rock, the whole stream projected itself forward, and curving round, like the neck of a war-horse, in its descent plunged into the gulf below with deafening and incessant thunder.
An accident which occurred during these imperial excursions threw a damp over their merriment. In ascending the Peer Punjal, the loftiest mountain of the southern chain, from whose summit the eye commands an extensive prospect of Cashmere, one of the foremost elephants was seized with terror, occasioned, according to the Hindoos, by the length and steepness of the acclivity. This beast was one of those upon which the ladies of the harem were mounted; and fifteen others, employed in the same service, followed. The moment his courage failed him he began to reel backwards; and striking against the animal which immediately succeeded, forced him also to retreat. Thus the shock, communicated from the first to the second, and from the second to the third, in an instant threw back the whole fifteen; and being upon the giddy edge of a precipice, no exertion of their drivers or of the bystanders could check their fall; and down they rolled over the rocks into the abyss, with the ladies upon their backs. This accident threw the whole army into consternation. A general halt took place. The most adventurous immediately crept down the cliffs, and were followed by the rest, to aid such as should have escaped with life, and remove the bodies of the dead. Here, to their great astonishment, they found that, by the mercy of Providence, only three or four of the ladies had been killed; but the elephants, which, when they sink under their prodigious burdens even on a smooth road, never rise again, had all been mortally wounded by the fall, and could by no means be lifted from the spot. Even two days afterward, however, when Bernier again visited the place, he observed some of the poor animals moving their trunks.
On returning to Delhi from Cashmere, our traveller appears to have remained quiet for some time, pursuing his researches amid the mazes of the atomical philosophy; for he was a disciple of Democritus, and enjoying those “noctes cœnæque deorum” which seem to have constituted one of the principal pleasures of his friend Danekmend Khan. His influence with this chief he exerted for the benefit of others no less than for his own. Numerous were the individuals who owed to his interference or recommendation their admission into the service of the khan, or the speedy termination of their affairs at court, where Danekmend, who possessed the especial favour of the emperor, could almost always procure an audience, or give success to a petition. These kind offices were uniformly repaid with abundant flattery, if not with gratitude; and the skilful practitioners invariably discharged a portion of the debt beforehand. Putting on a grave face—a possession of infinite value in the East—every person who had need of his services assured him at the outset of the affair that he was the Aristotalis, the Bocrate, and the Abousina Ulzaman (that is, the Aristotle, the Hippocrates, and the Avicenna) of the age. It was in vain that he disavowed all claim to such immediate honours; they persisted in their assertions; argued down his modesty; and eternally renewing the charge, compelled him to acquiesce, and consent to allow all the glorious attributes of those illustrious men to be centred in his own person. A Brahmin whom he recommended to the khan outdid them all; for, upon his first introduction to his master, after having compared him to the greatest kings and conquerors that ever reigned, he concluded by gravely observing, “My lord, whenever you put your foot in the stirrup, and ride abroad accompanied by your cavalry, the earth trembles beneath your feet, the eight elephants which support it not being able to endure so great an exertion!” Upon this, Bernier, who could no longer restrain his disposition to laugh, remarked to the khan, that since this was the case, it was advisable that he should ride as seldom as possible on horseback, in order to prevent those earthquakes, which might, perhaps, occasion much mischief. “You are perfectly right,” replied Danekmend, with a smile, “and it is for that very reason that I generally go abroad in a palanquin!”
In the year 1666, while Bernier was still at Delhi, there happened an eclipse of the sun, which was attended by so many curious circumstances that, should he have lived for ages, he declares it never could have been obliterated from his memory. A little before the obscuration commenced, he ascended to the roof of his house, which, standing on the margin of the Jumna, commanded a full view of the stream, and of the surrounding plain. Both sides of the river for nearly a league were covered with Hindoos of both sexes, standing up to the waist in the water, anxiously awaiting for the commencement of the phenomenon, in order to plunge into the river and bathe their bodies at the auspicious moment. The children, both male and female, were as naked as at the moment of their birth—the women wore a single covering of muslin—the men a slight girdle, or cummerbund, about the waist. The rajahs, nobles, and rich merchants, however, who, for the most part, had crossed the river with their families, had fixed up certain screens in the water, which enabled them to bathe unseen. Presently the dusky body of the moon began to obscure a portion of the burning disk of the superior planet, and in a moment a tremendous shout arose from the multitude, who then plunged several times into the stream, muttering during the intervals an abundance of prayers, raising their eyes and their hands towards the sun, sprinkling water in the air, bowing the head, and practising a thousand gesticulations. These ceremonies continued to the end of the eclipse, when, throwing pieces of money far into the stream, putting on new garments, some leaving the old ones, besides the gifts which in common with all others they bestowed, for the Brahmins, others retaining them, the whole multitude dispersed.
The Hindoos, however, were not singular in the superstitious feelings with which they regarded eclipses of the sun. Twelve years previous Bernier had witnessed the effects which one of these phenomena produced in his own country, where the madness exhibited itself in the guise of fear. Astrologers, possessing the confidence of the Fates, had predicted that the end of the world, that unfailing bugbear of the middle age, was now to take place, and the terrified rabble of all ranks, conscious of guilt, or oppressed by gloomy fanaticism, immediately crept, like rats, into their cellars, or dark closets, as if God could not have beheld them there; or else rushed headlong to the churches, with a piety begotten by apprehension. Others, who only anticipated some malignant and perilous influence, swallowed drugs, which were vaunted by their inventors as sovereign remedies against the eclipse disease! Thus it appears that the superstition of the Hindoos was the less despicable of the two.
During his long residence in India our traveller twice visited Bengal. Of his first journey into that province the date is unknown, but his second visit took place in 1667, the year in which he finally quitted the country. He seems, on this occasion, to have approached the place by sea, for we first find him coasting along the Sunderbund in a small native bark, with seven rowers, in which he ascended by one of the western branches of the Ganges to the town of Hoogly. The beauty of this immense delta, divided into innumerable islands by the various arms of the stream, and covered by a vegetation luxuriant even to rankness, delighted him exceedingly. Even then, however, many of these romantic isles had been deserted, owing principally to the dread of the pirates who infested the coast; and as in India the spots which cultivation abandons quickly become the abode of pestilential miasmata, which thenceforward forbid the residence of man, no one now ventured to disturb the tigers and their prey, which had taken possession of the soil. It was here that for the third time in his life he enjoyed the sight of that rare phenomenon, a lunar rainbow. He had caused his boat to be fastened to the branch of a tree, as far as possible from the shore, through dread of the tigers, and was himself keeping watch. The moon, then near its full, was shining serenely in the western sky, when, turning his eyes towards the opposite quarter, he beheld a pale, bright arch, spanning the earth, and looking like a phantom of the glorious bow which, impregnated with the rich light of the sun, gladdens the eye with its brilliant colours by day. Next night the phenomenon was repeated; and on the fourth evening another spectacle, now familiar to most readers by description, delighted our traveller and his boat’s crew. The woods on both sides of the stream seemed suddenly to be illuminated by a shower of fire, and glowed as if they had been clothed with leaves of moving flames. There was not a breath of wind stirring, and the heat was intense. This added to the effect of the scene; for as the countless little fires streamed hither and thither in columns, or separated, and fell like drops of rain, or rose thick like the sparks of a furnace, the two Portuguese pilots whom our traveller had taken on board, imagined they were so many demons. To add to the effect of this exhibition of fireflies, for, as the reader will have foreseen, it was they who were the actors, the swampy soil sent up a number of those earthly meteors which often glide over large morasses, some in the form of globes, which rose and fell slowly, like enormous rockets, while others assumed the shape of a tree of fire.
From Bengal our traveller proceeded along the Coromandel coast to Masulipatam, and having visited the kingdoms of Golconda and Bejapore, quitted Hindostan, after a residence of twelve years, and returned by way of Persia and Mesopotamia to Europe. The exact date of his arrival in France I have not been able to discover, but it must have been somewhere in the latter end of the year 1669, or in the beginning of 1670; for the first two volumes of his “History of the Revolutions of the Mogul Empire,” which would require some time to prepare them for the press, were published in the course of that year. The third and fourth volumes appeared in 1671, and so great was the reputation they acquired, that they obtained for our traveller the surname of “The Mogul.” These works, which have frequently been reprinted under the title of “The Travels of M. François Bernier, containing the Description of the Mogul Empire, of Hindostan, of the Kingdom of Cashmere, &c.,” were immediately translated into English, and appear to have been the means of introducing their author to the most distinguished individuals of his time. Among those most distinguished by his friendship were Ninon de l’Enclos, Madame de la Sabliere, St. Evremont, and Chapelle, whose Eloge he composed. To many of these his speculative opinions, which were any thing but orthodox, may have rendered him agreeable; but to Ninon, his handsome person, easy manners, and fascinating conversation, which he knew how to enliven with a thousand interesting anecdotes, must have proved by far his greatest recommendation. By St. Evremont he was called “the handsome philosopher;” and in a letter to Ninon, this same writer observes, “Speaking of the mortification of the senses one day, to M. Bernier, he replied, ‘I will tell you a secret which I would not willingly reveal to Madame de la Sabliere or to Ninon, though it contains an important truth; it is this—the abstaining from pleasure is itself a crime.’ I was surprised,” adds St. Evremont, “by the novelty of the system.” Upon this M. Walkenaer shrewdly observes, that this system could have possessed but very little novelty for Mademoiselle de l’Enclos; and he might have added that the surprise of the writer of the letter must either have been affected, or else betrayed a very slight acquaintance with the history of philosophy. The other works of Bernier, which have been suffered to sink into much greater neglect than they perhaps deserve, are,—1. “An Abridgment of the Philosophy of Gassendi:” in which, according to Buhl, the acute and learned historian of Modern Philosophy, he not only exhibited the talents of an able and intelligent abbreviator, but, moreover, afforded numerous proofs of a capacity to philosophize for himself. On several important points he differed from his friend, with whom, previous to his travels, he had lived during many years on terms of the strictest intimacy, and who died shortly after his departure from France. 2. “A Memoir upon the Quietism of India,” which appeared in the “Histoire des Ouvrages des Savans,” for September, 1668. 3. “Extract of various Pieces sent as Presents to Madame de la Sabliere.” 4. “Eloge of Chapelle.” 5. “Decree of the Grand Council of Parnassus for the Support of the Philosophy of Aristotle.” 6. “Illustration of the Work of Father Valois, on the Philosophy of Descartes,” published by Boyle. 7. “A Treatise on Free Will.”
The travels of Bernier, which enjoy a vast reputation among the learned, have never, perhaps, been popular, and can never become so, unless the various letters and treatises of which the work is composed be properly arranged, and the whole illustrated with copious notes. As an acute observer of manners, however, he has seldom been surpassed. His history of the revolutions of the Mogul empire entitles him to a high rank among the historians of India; and his description of Cashmere, though brief, is perhaps the best which has hitherto been given of that beautiful country. In his private character he appears to have been generous, humane, and amiable, constant in his friendship, and capable, as may be inferred from the singular affection entertained for him by Gassendi and Danekmend Khan, of inspiring a lasting and powerful attachment. Still, his inclination for the dull, unimaginative, unspiritual philosophy of Epicurus bespeaks but little enthusiasm or poetical fervour of mind; and this feature in his intellectual character may account for the inferior degree of romance with which we contemplate his adventures.