His works have gone through several editions, and may be consulted with advantage by the students of Asiatic manners, though the style, which is that of some miserable compiler whom he employed to digest his rough memoirs, be intolerably bald and enervate; while the method and arrangement are, perhaps, the worst that could have been adopted. Had he contented himself with the simple form of a journal, narrating events as they occurred, and describing things as they presented themselves to his notice, he could not have been more prolix, and would undoubtedly have rendered his work more agreeable and useful. As a traveller, he is undoubtedly entitled to the praise of enterprise and perseverance; no dangers appalled, no misfortunes depressed him; but his remarks are always rather the remarks of a trader than of a traveller. Wealth was his grand object; knowledge and fame things of secondary consideration. The former, however, he gained and lost; his reputation, though far less brilliant than that of many other travellers, remains to him, and will long remain a monument of what can be effected by persevering mediocrity.
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.