The next considerable city at which he arrived was Ahmedabad, where, during his stay a very extraordinary circumstance took place, which was long the subject of wonder in that part of the country. Over the river which flows by this city there was no bridge. The richer and more genteel part of the population, however, passed the stream in large boats which plied continually for passengers; but the peasantry, who grudged or could ill afford the expense, swam over upon inflated goat-skins; and when they happened to have their children with them they were put into so many large earthen pots, which the swimmers pushed before them with their hands. A peasant and his wife crossing the river in this manner, with their only child in a pot before them, found about the middle of the stream a small sandbank, upon which there was an old tree that had been rolled down by the current. Here, being somewhat exhausted, they pushed the pot towards the tree, in the hope of being able to rest a moment; but before they had touched the bank a serpent sprang out from among the roots, and in an instant glided into the pot to the child. Stupified with fear and horror, the parents allowed the pot to float away with the current, and having remained half-dead at the foot of the tree for some time, found, upon the recovery of their senses, that their child had either sunk in the stream, or floated Heaven only knew whither. The little fellow in the pot and his serpent, however, sailed merrily down the river together, and had already proceeded about two leagues towards the sea, when a Hindoo and his wife, who were bathing upon the edge of the stream, saw the child’s head peeping out of the pot. The husband, prompted by humanity, immediately swam out, and overtaking the child in his singular little nest, pushed it before him towards the shore. But no sooner was the act performed than he found bitter cause to repent that he had achieved it, for the serpent, which had harmlessly curled round his little fellow-voyager down the current, now darted from the pot, and winding itself round the body of the Hindoo’s child, immediately stung it, and caused its death. Supposing that Providence had deprived them of one child only to make way for another, they adopted the stranger, and considered him as their own. But the strangeness of the event exciting great astonishment in the country, the news at length reached the real father of the child, who forthwith came and demanded his offspring. The adoptive father resisting this demand, the affair was brought before the king, who very properly adjudged the infant to its natural parent, though, by saving its life, the other had certainly acquired some claim to it, the more especially as by effecting his purpose he had accidentally rendered himself childless.
On his arrival at Delhi, our traveller assiduously applied himself to business, and having disposed of his jewelry to his satisfaction, partly to the Great Mogul, and partly to his courtiers, repaired to court to make his final obeisance to the monarch before his departure. The emperor, who loved to exhibit his riches and magnificence to strangers, particularly to those who were likely to be dazzled, and to render an inflated account of them to the world, caused him to be informed that he wished him to remain during the approaching festival in honour of his birthday, when the annual ceremony of ascertaining the exact weight of his royal person was to take place. It was now the 1st of November, and the festival, which usually lasted five days, was to begin on the 4th; but the preparations, which had been commenced on the 7th of September, were now nearly completed, and all Delhi looked forward with joy to the approaching rejoicings. The two spacious courts of the palace were covered with lofty tents of crimson velvet, inwrought with gold; the immense poles which sustained them, many of which were forty feet high, and of the thickness of a ship’s mast, were cased with solid plates of silver or gold. Around the first court, beneath a range of porticoes, were numerous small chambers, destined for the omrahs on guard. Between these, on the days of the festival, the spectators moved into the amkas, or great hall of audience, which, together with the peacock throne, I shall describe in the life of Bernier. The emperor, being seated upon his throne, a troop of the most skilful dancing-girls was brought in, who, with gestures and motions more voluptuous than the ancient performers of the Chironomia ever practised, amused the imagination of the monarch and his courtiers, and excited the amazement of foreigners at the licenses of an Asiatic court. On both sides of the throne were fifteen horses, with bridles and housings crusted with diamonds, rubies, pearls, and emeralds, and held each by two men; and shortly after the commencement of the ceremony, seven war-elephants, of the largest size, caparisoned in the most gorgeous style, were led in one after the other, and caused to make the circuit of the hall: when they came opposite the throne, each in his turn made his obeisance to the sovereign, by thrice lowering his trunk to the floor, and accompanying each movement by a loud and piercing cry. This exhibition being concluded, the emperor arose, and retired with three or four of the principal eunuchs into the harem. At an auspicious moment during the festival, a large pair of scales was brought into the amkas, the emperor’s weight was ascertained, and if greater than on the preceding year, singular rejoicings and triumphant shouts took place; but if, on the contrary, his majesty was found to be less unwieldy than heretofore, the event was regarded with apprehension and sorrow.
Two or three days previous to the barometry of the mogul, our traveller enjoyed the flattering privilege of beholding the imperial jewels. Having been first admitted to an audience, he was led by one of the principal courtiers into a small chamber contiguous to the hall of audience, whither the unrivalled collection of gems was brought for his inspection by four eunuchs. They were laid out like fruit in two large wooden bowls, highly varnished, and exquisitely ornamented with delicate golden foliage. They were then uncovered, counted over thrice, and as many lists of them made out by three different scribes. Tavernier, who viewed all these things with the eyes of a jeweller, rather than as a traveller, curious to observe and examine, scrutinized them piece by piece, descanting upon their mercantile value, and the modes of cutting and polishing by which they might have been rendered more beautiful. In this mood he feasted his eyes upon diamonds of incomparable magnitude and lustre; upon chains of rubies, strings of orient pearls, amethysts, opals, topazes, and emeralds, various in form, and each reflecting additional light and beauty upon the other.
Having beheld these professional curiosities, he left the Mogul court, and proceeded by the ordinary route towards Bengal. The Ganges, where he crossed it, in company with Bernier, he found no larger than the Seine opposite the Louvre, an insignificant stream which scarcely deserves the name of a river. At Benares he observed the narrowest streets and the loftiest houses which he had seen in Hindostan, a circumstance remarked by all travellers, and among the rest by Heber, who says, “The houses are mostly lofty; none, I think, less than two stories, most of three, and several of five or six, a sight which I now for the first time saw in India. The streets, like those of Chester, are considerably lower than the ground floors of the houses, which have mostly arched rows in front, with little shops behind them. Above these the houses are richly embellished with verandahs, galleries, projecting oriel windows, and very broad and overhanging coves, supported by carved brackets.” The opposite sides of the streets stand so near to each other in many places that they are united by galleries. The number of stone and brick houses in the city are upwards of twelve thousand, of clay houses sixteen thousand; and the population in 1803 considerably exceeded half a million. Benares, according to the Brahmins, forms no part of the terrestrial globe, but rests upon the thousand-headed serpent Anarta, or Eternity: or, according to others, on the point of Siva’s trident, and hence no earthquakes are ever felt there. The Great Lingam, or Phallies, of Benares, is said to be a petrifaction of Siva himself; and the worship of this emblem of the godhead so generally prevails here, that the city contains at least a million images of the Lingam. This holy city, the Brahmins assure us, was originally built of gold, but for the sins of mankind it was successively degraded to stone, and brick, and clay.
From Benares he proceeded through Patna and Rajmahel to Daca, then a flourishing city; whence, having disposed of numerous jewels to the nawâb, he returned to Delhi.
To avoid repetitions and perplexing breaks in the narrative, I have paid no attention to the date of his visits to this or that city; and, indeed, so confused were his notes and his memory, that he does not seem to have known very well himself during which of his journeys many events which he relates took place. Into the particulars of his voyage to Ceylon, Sumatra, and Java it is unnecessary to enter, more full and curious accounts of those islands occurring in other travellers.
On his return to France from his fifth visit to the East, he married an ancient damsel, to borrow an epithet from Burke, merely from gratitude to her father, who was a jeweller, and had rendered him several essential services. After this he undertook one more journey into Asia, with merchandise to the value of four hundred thousand livres, consisting of curious clocks, crystal and agate vases, pearls, and other jewelry. This expedition occupied him six years, during which he advanced farther towards the east than he had hitherto done; and having in this and his other journeys amassed considerable wealth, he returned with a splendid assortment of diamonds to France, having been engaged upwards of forty years in travelling. Disposing of these jewels advantageously to the French king, who granted him a patent of nobility, he now conceived that all his wanderings were at an end, and began to think of enjoying the wealth he had purchased with so much time and toil and difficulty. Experience, however, had not rendered him wise. Puffed up with the vanity inspired by his patent of nobility, his whole soul was now wrapped up in visions of luxury and magnificence. He rented a splendid house, set up a carriage, and hired a number of valets. The nobility, who no doubt devoured his adventures and his dinners with equal greediness, flocked about him, invited, caressed, flattered, and ruined him.
Live like yourself was now my lady’s word!
He was prevailed upon by some of his noble friends, who supposed him to be possessed of the wealth of Crœsus, to purchase a baronial castle and estate near Lyons, the repairs of which, united with the absurd expenses of his household, quickly threatened to plunge him into the poverty and obscurity from which he originally rose. To accelerate this unhappy catastrophe, undoubtedly owing principally to his own folly, his nephew, to whose management he had intrusted a valuable venture in the hope of retrieving his shattered fortune, proved dishonest, married, and remained in the East, appropriating to his own use the property of his uncle. To increase the consternation caused in his family by these private calamities, it was rumoured that the edict of Nantes was about to be revoked, which induced him immediately to dispose of his estate, and prepare to emigrate with the great body of the Protestants out of France. Time for proper negotiations not being allowed, the barony was sold for considerably less than it had cost him; and every thing now going unprosperously with our noble jeweller, his family retired to Berlin, while he repaired, in an obscure manner, to Paris, in quest of funds for another journey into the East.
Tavernier was now in his eighty-third year, broken in spirits, ruined in fortune, and bending beneath the effects of age; but his courage had not forsaken him. He succeeded by dint of great exertions in getting together a considerable venture, and departed for Hindostan by way of Russia and Tartary. That he arrived safely at Moscow is tolerably certain; but in this city we lose sight of him; some writers affirming that he died there, while others more confidently assert, that having spent some time at this ancient capital of Russia, he continued his journey, and embarked with his merchandise in a bark upon the Volga, with the design of descending that river to the Caspian Sea. Whether this wretched bark foundered in the stream, or, which is more probable, was plundered, and its crew and passengers massacred by the Tartars, is what has never been ascertained. At all events, Tavernier here disappears, for no tidings of him ever reached France from that time. He is supposed to have died in 1685, or 1686.