A stream so pure as Rocknabad,
A bower so sweet as Mosellay!
But, with all its beauty, Shiraz contains nothing which raises so powerful an enthusiasm in the soul as two tombs,—the tomb of the bard who sung the beauties of the Rocknabad, and of the moral author of the “Rose Garden;” irresistible and lasting are the charms of poetry and eloquence! Our traveller having acquired at Ispahan sufficient knowledge of the Persian language to enable him to relish Hafiz, though he complains that he is difficult, as well as the easier and more popular Saadi, whose sayings are in Persia “familiar to their mouths as household words,” it was impossible that he should pass through the city where their honoured ashes repose without paying a pious visit to the spot. Having contemplated these illustrious mausoleums with that profound veneration which the memory of genius inspires, he returned to his caravansary half-persuaded, with the Persians, that they who do not study and treasure up in their souls the maxims of such divine poets can neither be virtuous nor happy.
From the poets of Shiraz he naturally turned to its roses and its wine; the former, in his opinion, the most fragrant upon earth; and the latter the most balmy and delicious. In his history and description of this wine, one of the most agreeable articles in his “Amœnitates,” there is a kind of bacchic energy and enthusiasm, a rhapsodical affectation of sesquipedalian words, which would seem to indicate that even the remembrance of this oriental nectar has the power of elevating the animal spirits. But whatever were the delights of Shiraz, it was necessary to bid them adieu; and inwardly exclaiming with the calif, “How sweetly we live if a shadow would last!” he turned his back upon Mosellay and the Rocknabad, and pursued his route towards Gombroon.
Here, if he was pleased with contrasts, he could not fail to be highly gratified; for no two places upon earth could be more unlike than Shiraz and Gombroon. It was the pestilential air of this detestable coast that had deprived Della Valle of his Maani, and reduced Chardin to the brink of the grave; and Kæmpfer had not been there many months before he experienced in his turn the deadly effects of breathing so inflamed and insalubrious an atmosphere, from which, in the summer season, even the natives are compelled to fly to the mountains. Though no doubt the causes had long been at work, the effect manifested itself suddenly in a malignant fever, in which he lay delirious for several days. When the violence of this disorder abated, it was successively followed by a dropsy and a quartan ague, through which dangerous and unusual steps, as Dr. Scheuchzer observes, he recovered his health, though not his former strength and vigour. Admonished by this rough visitation, he now had recourse to those means for the restoration of his strength which a more rigid prudence would have taught him to put in practice for its preservation, and removed with all possible expedition into the mountainous districts of Laristân.
On the 16th of June, 1686, at least six weeks after every other sane person had fled from the place, Kæmpfer set out from Gombroon, sitting in a pannier suspended from the back of a camel, being too weak to ride on horseback, and attended by a servant mounted upon an ass, while another animal of the same species carried his cooking apparatus and provisions. To shield himself from the burning winds which swept with incredible fury along these parched and naked plains, he stretched a small sheet over his head, which, falling down on both sides of the pannier, served as a kind of tent. Thus covered, he contrived to keep himself tolerably cool by continually wetting the sheet on the inside; but being clothed in an exceedingly thin garment, open in several parts, he next day found that wherever the wet sheet had touched him the skin peeled off as if it had been burned. Having procured the assistance of a guide, they deserted the ordinary road, and struck off by a less circuitous, but more difficult track, through the mountains. The prospect for some time was as dull and dreary as could be imagined; consisting of a succession of sandy deserts, here and there interspersed with small salt ponds, the glittering mineral crust of which showed like so many sheets of snow by the light of the stars.
At length, late on the night of the 20th, though the darkness precluded the possibility of perceiving the form of surrounding objects, he discovered by the aroma of plants and flowers diffused through the air that he was approaching a verdant and cultivated spot; and continuing his journey another day over a rocky plain, he arrived at the foot of the mountains. Here he found woody and well-watered valleys alternating with steep and craggy passes, which inspired him with terror as he gazed at their frowning and tremendous brows from below. By dint of perseverance, however, he at length reached the summit of Mount Bonna, or at least the highest inhabited part, though spiry rocks shooting up above this mountain plateau on every side intercepted all view of the surrounding country. The chief of the mountain village in which he intended to reside received him hospitably, and on the very morning after his arrival introduced him to the spot where he was to remain during his stay. This was a kind of garden exposed to the north-east, and therefore cool and airy. Ponds of water, cascades, narrow ravines, overhanging rocks, and shady trees rendered it a delightful retreat; but as the Persians as well as the Turks regard our habit of pacing backwards and forwards as no better than madness, there were no walks worthy of the name. When showers of rain or any other cause made him desire shelter, he betook himself to a small edifice in the garden, where his only companion was a large serpent, which ensconced itself in a hole directly opposite to his couch, where it passed the night, but rolled out early in the morning to bask in the sun upon the rocks. Upon a sunny spot in the garden he daily observed two delicate little chameleons, which, he was persuaded, were delighted with his society; for at length one or the other of them would follow him into the house, either to enjoy the warmth of the fire, or to pick up such crumbs as might drop from his table during dinner. If observed, however, it would utter a sound like the gentle laugh of a child, and spring off to its home in the trees. He was shortly afterward joined by another German invalid from Gombroon, whom he appears to have found preferable as a companion both to the serpent and the chameleon.
Having now no other object than to amuse himself and recover his health, he indulged whatever fancy came uppermost; at one time examining the plants and trees of the mountain, and at another joining a party of mountaineers in hunting that singular species of antelope in the stomach of which the bezoar is found. The chase of this fleet and timid animal required the hunters to be abroad before day, when they concealed themselves in some thicket or cavern, or beneath the brows of overhanging rocks, near the springs to which it usually repaired with the dawn to drink. They knew, from some peculiarities in the external appearance of the beasts, such individuals as certainly contained the bezoar in their stomach from those which did not; and in all his various excursions Kæmpfer requested his companions to fire at the former only.
In these same mountains there was an extraordinary cavern concealed among rugged and nearly inaccessible precipices, from the sides of which there constantly exuded a precious balsam of a black colour, inodorous, and almost tasteless, but of singular efficacy in all disorders of the bowels. The same district likewise contained several hot-baths, numerous trees and plants, many of which were unknown in Europe, and a profusion of those fierce animals, such as leopards, bears, and hyenas, which constitute the game of an Asiatic sportsman.
Remaining in these mountains until he considered his strength sufficiently restored, he returned to Gombroon. During his residence in Persia, which was nearly of four years’ continuance, he collected so large a quantity of new and curious information, that notwithstanding that most of the spots he describes had been visited by former travellers, his whole track seems to run over an untrodden soil; so true is it that it is the mind of the traveller, far more than the material scene, which furnishes the elements of interest and novelty. The history of this part of his travels, therefore, the results of which are contained in his “Amœnitates,” seemed to deserve being given at some length. To that curious volume I refer the reader for his ample and interesting history of the generation, growth, culture, and uses of the date-palm; his description of that remarkable balsamic juice called muminahi by the Persians, and mumia, or munmy, by Kæmpfer, which exudes from a rock in the district of Daraab, and was annually collected with extraordinary pomp and ceremony for the sole use of the Persian king; and the curious account which he has given of the asafœtida plant, said to be produced only in Persia; the filaria medinensis, or worm which breeds between the interstices of the muscles in various parts of the human body; and the real oriental dragon’s blood, which is obtained from a coniferous palm.