The Lives of Celebrated Travellers Volume 2 (of 3) E-Book

James Augustus St. John

• Herausgeber: Word Well Books
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

James Augustus St. John (1795-1875) was a British journalist, author and traveller.  Born in Wales, the son of a shoemaker, he began his career as a journalist writing for various newspapers in London. He lived some years on the Continent. His books, Journal of a Residence in Normandy and Lives of Celebrated Travellers (3 vols.) were published in 1830. In 1832 he visited Egypt and Nubia, resulting in travel books, published under the titles, Egypt and Mohammed Ali, or Travels in the Valley of the Nile (2 vols., 1834), Egypt and Nubia (1844), and Isis, an Egyptian Pilgrimage (2 vols., 1853). Returning to London, he wrote for the Daily Telegraph under the pseudonym of Greville Brooke and wrote numerous books of history and biography, including a 1868 biography of Sir Walter Raleigh, based on his researches in Madrid and elsewhere.

 

Leseprobe

THE LIVES OF CELEBRATED TRAVELLERS

VOLUME 2 (OF 3)

JAMES AUGUSTUS ST. JOHN

Originally published in the United States in the year 1832

This text is in the public domain

Modern Edition © 2022 Word Well Books

The publishers have made all reasonable efforts to ensure this book is indeed in the Public Domain in any and all territories it has been published.

Created with Vellum

Wand’ring from clime to clime, observant stray’d,

Their manners noted and their states survey’d.

POPE’S HOMER

CONTENTS

1. JOSEPH PITTON DE TOURNEFORT.

2. DR. THOMAS SHAW.

3. FREDERIC HASSELQUIST.

4. LADY WORTLEY MONTAGUE.

5. RICHARD POCOCKE.

6. JOHN BELL.

7. JOHN LEDYARD.

8. GEORGE FORSTER.

9. JAMES BRUCE.

10. JONAS HANWAY.

11. ANTONIO DE ULLOA.

About the Author

1

JOSEPH PITTON DE TOURNEFORT.

BORN 1656.—DIED 1708.

Tournefort was born at Aix, in Provence, on the 5th of June, 1656. He received the first rudiments of his education at the Jesuits’ College of that city; where manifestations of his passion for botany, to the gratification of which he devoted the whole of his life, appeared at a very early age. As soon as he beheld plants, says Fontenelle, he felt himself a botanist. He desired to learn their names; he carefully observed their differences, and sometimes absented himself from his class in order to botanize in the country, preferring nature to the language of the ancient Romans, which at that time was regarded as the principal object of education. Like the majority of those who have distinguished themselves in any department of science or art, he was his own master, and in a very short time had made himself acquainted with the plants found in the environs of his native city.

For the philosophy then taught in the schools he had but little predilection. Being in search of nature, which was almost wholly banished from the prevailing systems, he considered himself fortunate in discovering accidentally among his father’s books, the works of Descartes, which appeared to contain the philosophy which he sought. He was not, however, permitted to enjoy this gratification openly; but his ardour and enthusiasm were apparently exactly proportioned to the mystery by which it was attended.

Tournefort, being designed by his father for the church, of course included theology in his studies, and even went so far as to enter into a seminary. But his natural inclinations prevailed. The fathers and the doctors of the Sorbonne were less attractive than the plants of the field; and when he should have been engaged with

Councils, classics, fathers, wits,

he stole away to the garden of an apothecary of Aix, who delighted in the same studies, and there pursued in secret the course he had chosen for himself. But the treasures of the apothecary’s garden were soon exhausted. It therefore soon became necessary to discover a wider field; and as botanists, like most other mortals, consider stolen joys the sweetest, he occasionally penetrated into forbidden grounds, and exposed himself to the suspicion of having less exalted views than those by which he was really actuated. In fact, being one day discovered in a garden by some peasants, he was taken for a robber, and narrowly escaped the fate of St. Stephen.

There is something in the circumstances under which the science of botany is studied, which has a tendency to confer upon it a kind of poetical charm. It is not a sedentary pursuit. It leads the student abroad among the most magnificent and beautiful scenery of the earth, in all seasons, but more particularly during those in which external nature is loveliest. That botany should be pursued with passion is, therefore, not at all surprising; but it is difficult to understand how the imagination should become enamoured of anatomy, which, instead of generating cheerful and enlivening images, dwells wholly upon decay and dissolution. Tournefort, however, associated this gloomy science with botany, and is said to have equally delighted in both.

The death of his father, which took place in 1677, delivered him from theology and the church. He was now entire master of his time; and, in order the more completely to gratify his inclinations, made a tour through the mountains of Dauphiny and Savoy, where he collected a great number of fine plants, which formed the nucleus of his herbarium. This journey increasing instead of gratifying his curiosity, and probably adding fresh vigour to his naturally robust frame, while it at the same time enhanced his gayety, was merely the prelude to others more adventurous and extensive. In 1769 he set out from Aix for Montpellier, where, besides improving himself in his anatomical and medical studies, he enjoyed all the advantages which the rich botanical garden created by Henry IV. could afford an enlightened botanist.

At Montpellier Tournefort remained nearly two years. He then undertook an excursion into Spain, where he made large accessions to his herbary; and after wandering for some time among the mountains of Catalonia, accompanied by several physicians and young medical students, he directed his footsteps towards the Pyrenees. Fontenelle, in speaking of this excursion of Tournefort, seems to be principally astonished at the intrepidity with which our traveller encountered, not the dangers, but the cookery of the Pyrenees, which, to the Rouen epicurean, appeared more terrible than precipices or robbers. He was quite aware, says he, that in these vast solitudes he should find no subsistence, except such as the most austere anchorets might have partaken, and that the wretched inhabitants from whom even this was to be obtained were not more numerous than the robbers who might deprive him of it. In fact, he was more than once attacked and plundered by Spanish outlaws; and the contrivance by which he succeeded on such occasions in concealing a small quantity of money is sufficiently ingenious. He thrust a number of reals into the coarse black bread which he carried about with him as his only food, and this the robbers considered so utterly worthless that, although by no means fastidious, they invariably relinquished it to the traveller with extreme contempt.

Tournefort, having thus overreached the dull-headed banditti of Spain, roamed about at leisure through the wild regions of the Pyrenees, climbing the most abrupt and apparently inaccessible pinnacles. New plants, however, were found at almost every step, and the pleasure derived from this circumstance, which none but a discoverer can conceive, amply compensated him for the fatigues and dangers he underwent. One day during this tour he narrowly escaped with his life: a miserable house, in which he had taken shelter, fell down upon him, and for two hours he lay buried under the ruins, but was at length dug out by the peasantry.

Towards the end of the year 1681 he returned through Montpellier to Aix, where he classed and arranged all the plants which he had collected in Provence, Languedoc, Dauphiny, Catalonia, the Alps, and the Pyrenees; and the pleasure afforded him by the sight of his collection was an ample reward for all the fatigue and danger which he experienced in procuring it.

Tournefort’s reputation now began to diffuse itself. M. Fagon, principal physician to the queen, a man who ardently desired to advance the interests of botany, learning his extraordinary merit, invited him to Paris in 1683; and on his arrival obtained for him the place of botanical professor in the Jardin des Plantes. This appointment, however, by no means restrained his passion for travelling; for, although botany was perhaps his principal object, the delight arising from visiting new scenes was strongly associated with the weaker and more tranquil gratification afforded by science. He therefore once more undertook a journey into Spain, and while in Andalusia, where the palm-tree abounds, endeavoured to penetrate the mysterious loves of the male and female of this celebrated tree, but his researches were unsuccessful. He proceeded next into Portugal, from whence, when the object of his journey had been accomplished, he returned to France.

Shortly after this he visited England and Holland, in the latter of which countries he was invited, and even tempted by the offer of a more liberal salary than he enjoyed at home, to take up his residence as botanical professor. The offer was flattering, but Tournefort, persuaded that no worldly advantages are an equivalent for a permanent exile from home, wisely declined it. His own country was not ungrateful. In 1691 he was made a member of the Academy of Sciences; and his reputation, which was now rapidly gaining ground, paved the way to other more solid advantages.

Tournefort, notwithstanding his enthusiasm for science and thirst of reputation, was not in haste to appear before the public as an author. However, in 1694, having meditated profoundly and long upon the subject, he ventured to put forth his “Elemens de Botanique, ou Méthode pour connoître les Plantes,” which, though attacked by Ray and others, was highly esteemed by the greater number of naturalists. He now took his degree of M.D., and, shortly afterward, in 1698, published his history of the plants growing in the environs of Paris, with an account of their uses in medicine.

Such were his employments until the year 1700, when, to adopt the language of the times, he was commanded by the king to undertake a journey into Greece, Asia, and Africa, not merely for the purpose of making scientific researches, but in order to study upon the spot the manners, customs, and opinions of the inhabitants. This long and somewhat hazardous journey he hesitated to commence alone; for, as he justly observes, there is nothing so melancholy as to be ill in a foreign country, surrounded by entire strangers, ignorant of medicine yet daring to practise. However, he very quickly found two companions—the one a physician, the other a painter—and having made every necessary preparation, embarked at Marseilles on the 23d of April, 1700.

On the 3d of May they arrived at Canea, the principal port of Candia; and Tournefort, to whom the passage had appeared exceedingly tedious, experienced peculiar pleasure in commencing his eastern travels with the ancient kingdom of Minos. He found the environs of the city admirable, plains covered with forests of olive, fields richly cultivated, gardens, vineyards, and streams fringed with myrtle and rose laurel. One small inconvenience was felt, however, in traversing these lovely scenes. The Turks, as usual, had laid out their cemeteries along the highway, and not having sunk the graves to a sufficient depth, the bodies, powerfully acted on by the sun, exhaled an extremely fetid odour, which the wind wafted over the country, engendering noisome diseases. To add to the chagrin occasioned by this circumstance, they found, notwithstanding the assertions of Galen and Pliny, which had in fact tempted them into the island, that the plants of Crete were difficult to be met with even in Crete itself, though in the sequel the plants of the “White Mountains” amply made up for their first disappointments.

Tournefort, though a scholar, was by no means a classical enthusiast, and therefore his descriptions of celebrated places may generally be depended upon. If any thing, he was too much disposed, from a not uncommon species of affectation, to disparage the places on which the ancients have thrown the noblest rays of glory. From this disposition he caricatures the Cretan Ida, which he denominates “a great ugly ass’s back,” where you find neither landscape, nor fountain, nor stream, nor agreeable solitude; but, instead of all these, prodigious piles of barren rocks, surrounded by all the circumstances of desolation. From the summit he enjoyed, indeed, an extensive prospect, but he thought it much too dearly purchased by the fatigue of climbing so difficult a mountain; and, in order to put himself in good-humour with the scene, set down in the lee of a rock and made a good bowl of sherbet.

After visiting Retimo, Candia, and the other principal cities of the island, they made an excursion to the famous labyrinth which is hewn in the bowels of a hill near the ancient Gortyna. This singular excavation is entered by a rustic cavern, and conducts you by numerous windings entirely through the mountain. Tournefort regards it as a natural cavern enlarged by human industry. Wherever he met with any Greeks during his journeys in this island, their manners were distinguished by the most remarkable simplicity, men, women, and children crowding round the strangers, admiring their dresses, or demanding medicines.

Having satisfied his scientific curiosity respecting Candia, he proceeded to visit the various islands of the Archipelago, which he examined with attention. On almost every rock on which he landed some additions were made to his botanical or antiquarian treasures, and with this mass of materials continually accumulating, he pushed on to Constantinople. Being desirous of comprehending the barbarous but complex machine of the Ottoman polity, he made a considerable stay in this city, from whence, when he conceived his object to have been accomplished, he continued his travels towards the east, and following the footsteps of the Argonauts, whom the ancients, he tells us, regarded as their most famous travellers, proceeded along the southern shores of the Black Sea towards Colchos. Our traveller performed this part of his route in the suite of the Pasha of Erzeroom. The whole party embarked in feluccas, the pasha with his harem in one vessel, and the remainder of his people, together with Tournefort and his attendants, distributed in seven others. During the voyage they frequently landed on the coast, for the purpose of passing the night more agreeably than could have been done on board. Tents were pitched, and those of the ladies surrounded by ditches, and guarded by black eunuchs, whose ugly visages and fearfully rolling eyes struck a panic into the soul of our traveller, who seems to have regarded them as so many devils commissioned to keep watch over the houries of paradise.

Indeed, Tournefort, if we may take him upon his word, was exceedingly well calculated by nature for travelling securely in the suite of a pasha accompanied by his harem; for when he was cautioned by the great man’s lieutenant against approaching the female quarters too nearly, or even ascending any eminence in the vicinity, from whence their tents might be viewed, he remarked, with apparent sincerity, that he was too much in love with plants to think of the ladies! This was a fortunate circumstance. Plants are everywhere to be procured, for even in the East it has never been thought necessary to place a guard of black eunuchs over hellebore or nightshade; but had the smile of female lips, or the sunshine of female eyes, been necessary to his happiness, he must have languished in hopelessness, at least while in the train of a pasha.

Notwithstanding the nature of the government and the state of manners in the country through which he passed, he encountered but few difficulties, and no real dangers. He settled the geographical position of cities, he admired the landscapes, he described the plants; but being fully persuaded that the better part of valour is discretion, he engaged in no adventures, and therefore the current of his life ran on as smoothly on the shores of the Black Sea as it could have done on the banks of the Seine or Rhone.

On arriving at Trebizond our traveller continued his route by land; and here he began to experience something of danger. There was no proceeding singly through the country. Every road was beset with robbers; and, in order to protect their persons and property, men congregated together into caravans, small moving polities, the members of which were temporarily bound to each other by a sense of common danger. Every man went armed, as in an enemy’s country. On this occasion Tournefort remarks, that there would be less danger in traversing the wild parts of America than such countries as Turkey: for that the savages, or those independent tribes whom we persist in regarding as such, never fell upon any but their enemies; while in civilized and semi-barbarous countries, robbers make no distinctions of this kind, being the declared enemies of every person possessing property. And as for the cannibal propensities of the former, he does not imagine that they greatly alter the case; for when a poor wretch has been murdered, he does not perceive how it can make any great difference to him whether he be eaten by men, or left naked in the fields to be devoured by birds or wild beasts.

However, the caravan in which Tournefort travelled being commanded by the pasha in person, the robbers fled from it with as much celerity as they followed others, for every one who was caught had his head instantly struck off without the least delay or ceremony. This salutary rigour, which those who tasted of the tranquillity it produced were very far from blaming, enabled the whole party to move on perfectly at their ease; and as great men accompanied by their harems seldom move with any great celerity, our Franks enjoyed ample leisure for observing the face of the country, and collecting all such curious plants as nature had sown in the vicinity of their route. Tournefort greatly admired the spectacle presented by the caravan when in motion. Horses, camels, mules, some laden with merchandise, others bestrode by the rude warriors or merchants of the East, others bearing a species of cages said to contain women, but which, says our traveller, with evident chagrin, might as well have contained monkeys as reasonable creatures.

In this style they proceeded to Erzeroom, where they arrived on the 15th of June. Winter had not yet relinquished his dominion over the land, for, notwithstanding that the sun was exceedingly hot during the greater part of the day, the hills in the neighbourhood were covered with snow, large showers of which had recently fallen. The cold, as might be expected, is very rigorous here during the winter months, so that several persons have been known to have lost their hands and feet from the effects of it; and although coal might probably be easily obtained, the inhabitants suffer the more severely, inasmuch as wood, the only fuel used, is extremely scarce and dear. These inconveniences are equally felt by natives and foreigners; but our traveller encountered another misfortune, which, in all probability, was confined to himself and his companions. This affliction, which he laments like a hero, was caused by the absence of good wines and brandies, a deprivation which appears to have weighed far more heavily on his heart than the absence of houries.

From this city he made several excursions into the mountains of Armenia, which generally continue to be covered with snow until August; and having discovered a monastery, the monks of which possessed some excellent wine, his spirits revived, and he began to view the country with a less gloomy eye. Near this city are the sources of the Euphrates, springs remarkable for their extreme coldness, and, to be rendered fit for drinking, requiring perhaps a mixture of that nectar which our traveller obtained from the monks of Erzeroom. To add to this enjoyment, some very fine trouts were caught in the stream of the Euphrates, and being cooked immediately upon the spot, and eaten with a good appetite, were found to be particularly excellent. However, all these pleasures were not purchased without some expense of fear, for they were now in the country of the Koords and Yezeedis, who, roaming about the plains in dauntless independence, regardless of pashas and eager for plunder, would have been but too happy to have lightened the burdens of the Frank adventurers.

From Erzeroom, the environs of which afford a rich treasure to the botanist, they proceeded with a caravan for Teflis, the capital of Georgia. The country upon which they now entered was flat and well cultivated, artificial irrigation being required, however, to maintain fertility, without which the corn would be roasted upon the stock. In the islands of the Archipelago, on the other hand, where the heats, he observes, are sufficient to calcine the earth, and where it rains only in winter, the corn is the finest in the world. This renders it clear that all kinds of soil do not possess the same nourishing juice. The soil of the Archipelago, like the camel, imbibes sufficient water during the winter to serve it for a long time to come; but that of Armenia requires to be constantly refreshed by showers or by irrigation.

On his arrival in Georgia, we find our worthy traveller, who, during his sojourning in the camp of the Turkish pasha, preferred plants to pretty women, suddenly adopting a different creed, and, in order to enjoy the sight of a fair face, spreading out a quantity of toys upon the grass, the reputation of which it was hoped would quickly attract the ladies to the spot. In this expectation he was not disappointed. The young women from all the neighbourhood gathered round the merchandise; but, although they were in possession of robust health and good forms, their beauty fell far short of his anticipations. This is not surprising. The imagination invariably out-runs reality; and, moreover, the travellers who confer or take away a reputation for beauty, besides being naturally perhaps incorrect judges, are frequently influenced by considerations which are far from appearing on the face of their narrative.

Having made some short stay at Teflis, he proceeded on an excursion to Mount Ararat, famous throughout all the East as the spot on which the ark rested after the flood; after which he once more directed his footsteps towards the west, returned to Erzeroom, and thence proceeded by way of Tocat and Angora to Smyrna. From this city, after visiting Ephesus, Scalanouva, and Samos, he sailed for Marseilles, where he arrived on the 3d of June, 1702.

It was originally intended that our traveller should have included a large portion of Africa within the limits of his tour, but the plague raging at that period in Egypt deterred him from proceeding into that country. However, he was already, if we may believe M. Fontenelle, loaded with the spoils of the East, and could afford to relinquish Egypt to some future adventurer, for whom the plague might have fewer terrors. The number of plants which he discovered was certainly very considerable, amounting to not less than 1356 species, of which the far greater number naturally arranged themselves under the 673 genera which he had previously established, while for the remainder he created 25 new genera, but no new class. The rest of Tournefort’s life was spent in preparing the account of his travels for the press, but he did not live to see their publication. A blow in the breast, which he accidentally received, reduced him to a languishing and weak condition, and hastened his death, which took place on the 28th of December, 1708. His travels, printed at the Louvre, appeared shortly afterward in two volumes quarto, and have always maintained a considerable reputation.

2

DR. THOMAS SHAW.

BORN 1692.—DIED 1751.

This curious and learned traveller was the son of Mr. Gabriel Shaw, of Kendal, in Westmoreland, where he was born in the year 1692. The first rudiments of his education, which appears to have been carefully conducted, he received at the grammar-school of his native town, from whence, in 1711, he removed to Queen’s College, Oxford. Here he took the degree of B.A. in 1716, and that of M.A. three years after. In the course of the same year he went into orders, and was appointed chaplain to the English factory at Algiers. As he has left no account of the mode in which he reached the point of destination, it is uncertain whether he proceeded to Africa wholly by sea, or performed a portion of the journey by land; but as it is certain that he was in Italy, where, among other places, he visited Rome, it is probable that it was upon this occasion that he traversed the continent of Europe, taking ship at some port of Italy for Algiers, where he arrived about the end of 1719, or early in the beginning of the year following. This city, which has long been an object of considerable curiosity to Europeans, I have already described, at least as it existed in the sixteenth century, in the life of Leo Africanus; and therefore shall merely observe upon the present occasion, that at the period of Shaw’s residence it was a small though populous city, not exceeding a mile and a half in circumference, but computed to contain little less than one hundred and twenty thousand inhabitants. Of antiquities, the peculiar objects of our traveller’s researches, it could boast but few specimens, though his practised eye discerned upon the tower of the great mosque several broken inscriptions, the letters of which, however, were either so inverted or filled up with lime and whitewash, that nothing could be made of them.

The environs are remarkable for their beauty, consisting of a rapid succession of hills and valleys, sprinkled with gardens and villas, to which the more wealthy among the citizens retire during the heats of summer. From these little white houses, perched in picturesque situations among evergreen woods and groves of fruit-trees, the inhabitants enjoy a gay and delightful prospect of the sea; while to those who sail along the shore these woods, villas, and gardens present a no less cheerful and animated scene. The springs which rise in these hills, and confer beauty and fertility upon the whole landscape, likewise furnish the city with an abundance of excellent water, which is conveyed to the public fountains through a long course of pipes and conduits.

Having remained about a year at Algiers, in the exercise of his professional duties, he was enabled, I know not how, to quit his post for a time, in order to satisfy the desire he felt of visiting Egypt and Syria. His voyage to Egypt, however, was ill-timed, for he arrived in the midst of summer, when, for the most part, the heat is excessive, the sands heated like the ashes of an oven, and the whole vegetation of the country exceedingly parched and withered. In approaching the low and level coast, no part of which could be seen from any considerable distance at sea, the mariners, he observes, conjectured how far they were from land by the depth of the water, the number of fathoms usually answering to the same number of leagues. The portion of the shore lying between Tineh, the ancient Pelusium, and Damietta, was so exceedingly low and full of lakes and morasses, that, in his opinion, it answered exactly to the etymology of its names; Tineh, from tin (Heb. טִין), clay or mud, and Pelusium (Gr. πηλούσιον), from pelus πηλός TN), a word of the same signification! With etymological conjectures such as these our curious traveller amused himself on drawing near the shores of Egypt. At length, however, he arrived at Alexandria, where, regarding every thing modern as so many vain dreams unworthy the attention of a learned traveller, he discovered nothing striking or curious but the shattered walls, the cisterns, and other splendid vestiges of antiquity.

From Alexandria he sailed up the Nile to Cairo, and found travelling upon this “moving road,” as Pascal beautifully terms a navigable river, an extremely agreeable diversion. At every winding of the stream, says he, such a variety of villages, gardens, and plantations present themselves to our view, that from Rosetta to Cairo, and from thence all the way down by the other branch, to Damietta, we see nothing but crowds of people, or continued scenes of plenty and abundance. The many turnings of the river make the distance from Cairo to each of those cities near two hundred miles, though in a direct road it will scarce amount to half that number.

Grand Cairo, notwithstanding the magnificence of its name, he found much inferior in extent to several European capitals, though as the inhabitants lived in a close and crowded manner, it was exceedingly populous. Its principal curiosities, in his estimation, were contained within the castle situated on Mount Mocattem, and consisted of a spacious hall, adorned with a double row of vast Thebaic columns, and a wall about two hundred and sixty feet in depth, with a winding staircase descending to the bottom, hewn out in the solid rock; both of which works are attributed by the Mohammedans to the patriarch Joseph. At the village of Ghizah, directly opposite Cairo, on the Libyan or western bank of the Nile, he supposed himself to have discovered the site of ancient Memphis, which Dr. Pococke, Bruce, and others place at Metraheny, several miles farther southward. From the discussion of this point, in which, whether right or wrong, our author displays a profusion of learning and very considerable ingenuity, he proceeds, through a series of equally learned dissertations, to the origin and destination of the pyramids. The magnitude, structure, and aspect of these prodigious edifices, which have withstood the united attacks of barbarism and the elements through a period of unknown duration, have frequently been described with picturesque and nervous eloquence, though it is probable that the impression which the actual contemplation of them produces upon the imagination is not susceptible of being represented by language. Satirical or calculating writers have stood at the foot of these ancient temples, for such, I think, they should be considered, and laughed at the ambition or folly, as they term it, which prompted their founders to rear them, because their names and purposes are now become an enigma. Yet it is probable, that from the day on which they were erected until the present, few persons have beheld them towering above the plain of the desert, reflecting back the burning sun of noon, or throwing their morning or evening shadows over the sand, without being smitten with a sense of the sublime, and experiencing in their hearts a secret pride at the boldness and elevation of their founders’ conception. And this feeling will be heightened into something of a religious character, if, rejecting, the vulgar notion of their being nothing but royal tombs, we suppose, what might, I think, be all but demonstrated, that they were originally temples dedicated to the passive generative power of nature, the Bhavani of the Hindoos, the Athor-Isis of the Egyptians, and the Aphrodite and Venus of the Greeks and Romans. To Dr. Shaw, however, this theory did not present itself. He was contented with the old idea, suggested by the etymology of the word, that they might, perhaps, have been fire-temples; but he observes that the mouth of the pyramids, as well as the end of the mystic chest in the interior, points to the north, the original Kiblah, or “praying-point,” of the whole human race. Other sacred edifices of Egypt, as Herodotus observes, had their doors on the northern side; the table of shew-bread was placed in the same situation in the tabernacle; and in Hindostan the piety or the superstition of the people points in the same direction.

Of the animals of Egypt which, from the frequent mention made of them in classical literature, are regarded as curiosities, the most remarkable, as the hippopotamus, the crocodile, and the ibis, are now exceedingly rare. Indeed, though the crocodile is sometimes found above the cataracts, it is totally unknown to those who live lower down the river, and the hippopotamus and the ibis, the latter of which was once so plentiful, may be regarded as extinct in Egypt. To make some amends for these losses, there is a great abundance of storks, which, as they are every winter supposed to make the pilgrimage to Mecca, are, according to Lady Montague, regarded as so many hajjîs by the Turks. When about to migrate from the country, it is observed that they constantly assemble together from the circumjacent regions in a vast plain, where, in the opinion of the inhabitants, they daily hold a divan, or council, for about a fortnight before their departure; after which they rise at once upon the wing, marshal themselves into close compact bodies of prodigious dimensions, and then, putting themselves in motion, float away like dusky clouds of many miles in length upon the wind. The aspic, one of which opened the voluptuous Cleopatra a way to the court of Proserpine, is still very numerous in the sandy and mountainous districts on both sides of the Nile. This reptile, now called the cerastes, is capable of existing for an incredible length of time without food; at least if we can rely upon the veracity of Gabrieli, an Italian gentleman, who showed our traveller a couple of these vipers, which he had kept, he said, five years in a large crystal vessel, without any visible sustenance. “They were usually coiled up,” says the doctor, “in some fine sand, which was placed in the bottom of the vessel; and when I saw them they had just cast their skins, and were as brisk and lively as if newly taken. The horns of this viper are white and shining, in shape like to half a grain of barley, though scarce of that bigness.” The warral, a gentle and docile species of lizard, which appeared to be inspired with violent emotions of delight by the sounds of music, he beheld keeping exact time and motion with the dervishes in their rotatory dances, running over their heads and arms, turning when they turned, and stopping when they stopped. These timid practitioners, however, who thus charm or tame this small and apparently innoxious creature, are mere children compared with those daring adepts of Hindostan who, by the force of spells or skill, compel the cobra di capello, the most deadly and terrible of reptiles, to rear himself in spiry volumes, and dance, or rather wriggle, like a Nautch girl, for the amusement of the crowd. But the Egyptian charmers did something better with serpents and other reptiles than teaching them to dance; they converted them into articles of food; and Dr. Shaw was assured that in Cairo and its neighbourhood there were not less than forty thousand persons who subsisted entirely upon serpents and lizards. Locusts are a delicacy in Barbary; crickets, fried in sesamum oil, in Siam; and a dish of human brains is an Apician morsel in New-Zealand. Nay, we are told that certain Roman epicures, who were very far from regarding themselves as cannibals, were in the habit of drowning slaves in their fish-ponds, that by feeding upon their bodies the fish might acquire a superior flavour and richness. The Abyssinians, who cut beefsteaks from a living cow, belong to this family of gourmands; and those rebel janizaries of Tunis who cut their bey into kabobs, and ate him for a relish, as Dr. Shaw relates, may be said to have pushed this strange, irregular appetite nearly as far as it can be carried. However, the serpent-eaters of Cairo, besides the gratification of their preposterous fancy, have a religious motive, as the being addicted to this curious diet entitles them, among other religious privileges, to the honour of attending more immediately upon the hanging of black silk which is annually sent to the temple of Mecca.

In reiterated endeavours to discern through the mists of three thousand years the ancient condition of Egypt, physical and moral, our traveller consumed the time between July and September, in which month he departed from Cairo on his visit to Mount Sinai and the Red Sea. All travellers who have journeyed through this wilderness speak with terror of the dreary desolation and barrenness of the scene. Vegetation is here dead. Even the dews and showers of heaven fall in vain. They drench the sands without fertilizing them, and, sinking down into the earth, disappear, leaving no trace behind. On the skirts of the desert, and upon a few widely-scattered points, two or three hardy plants, stunted by the drought, scorched during the day by the intense heat of the sun, and shrivelled up with piercing cold by night, look like a few miserable stragglers found in a country depopulated by war and famine. Upon quitting the valley of the Nile, which is nowhere very broad, the caravan with which Shaw travelled proceeded directly east through the desert towards Suez, the atmosphere being perfectly clear and serene; a fortunate circumstance, as the heavens were every night their only covering, a carpet spread on the sand their bed, and a bundle of clothes their pillow. In this situation they were nightly wet to the skin by the copious dew, though, such is the salubrity of the climate, their health was not in the least impaired by it. When they had arrived at their halting-place, and were about to lie down to sleep, the camels were caused to kneel down in a circle about their resting-place, with their faces pointing outwards, and their load and saddle piled up behind them, and being naturally so wakeful as to be roused from sleep by the least noise, they served their masters instead of a guard.

As in so wild and steril a country the purchasing of provisions as they might be wanted on the way was of course out of the question, they were obliged to furnish themselves in Egypt with a stock sufficient for their consumption during the whole journey. In most countries nature supplies man wherewith to quench his thirst, without his experiencing the necessity of exercising his foresight or taxing his ingenuity, by lavishly scattering about her refreshing springs over the earth, or by suspending, as in the forests of Brazil, diminutive vegetable reservoirs in the thicket, where he may always calculate upon finding the requisite quantity of cool pure water. But in Arabia this rule does not hold. Our traveller, therefore, upon commencing his journey, took care to provide himself with a sufficient number of goat-skins, which were replenished every four or five days, or oftener, if wells were met with. Wine, likewise, and brandy, together with wheatflour, rice, biscuit, honey, oil, vinegar, olives, lentils, potted flesh, and such other articles of food as would keep sweet and wholesome during two months, were laid in; as well as barley, with a few beans intermixed, which, with balls made of the flour of the one or both of them, and a little water, constituted the whole sustenance of the camels. Their kitchen furniture consisted of a copper pot and wooden bowl, in the former of which they cooked, and from the latter ate their food, or kneaded therein their unleavened cakes. When the caravan halted for the purpose of cooking their breakfast or dinner, the dung left by the camels of preceding travellers was carefully gathered up, there being no wood; and this, when it had been a few days exposed to the sun, took fire quickly, and burned like charcoal. Their food being prepared, whether it was potted flesh boiled with rice, a lentil-soup, or unleavened cakes, served up with oil or honey, one of the Arabs belonging to the party, not, as the Scripture says, “to eat his morsel alone,” placing himself upon the highest spot of ground in the neighbourhood, called out thrice, with a loud voice to all his brethren, “the Sons of the Faithful,” to come and partake of it; though none of them, says the traveller, were in view or perhaps within a hundred miles of them. The custom, however, is maintained as a mark of benevolence, and, when an opportunity occurs, of their hospitality.

Upon arriving at the fountain of Elim, two leagues to the west of Suez, they found it brackish, and though there were several large troughs for the convenience of watering cattle, it was not considered wholesome, and the people of the neighbourhood preferred the waters of the Ain el Mousa, or “Fountain of Moses,” two leagues east of the city, which are lukewarm and sulphureous, and spout up like an artificial fountain from the earth,—a circumstance which Dr. Shaw thinks is no other way to be accounted for than by deducing their origin from the “great abyss!” The distance between Cairo and Suez is about ninety Roman miles, which the Israelites, according to Josephus, though the Scriptures are silent on the subject, traversed in three days, which, considering that they were encumbered with aged persons and children, Dr. Shaw thinks exceedingly improbable. The time employed in his own traject he does not mention; but observes that upon every little eminence on the road, as well as in the mountains of Libya near Egypt, great quantities of echini, as well as of bivalve and turbinated shells, were to be found, most of which corresponded exactly with their respective families still preserved in the Red Sea. The old walls of Suez, as well as the ruins of the village of Ain el Mousa, are full of fossil shells, which, as Xenophon remarks in the Anabasis, was the case with the walls of certain castles on the confines of Curdistan.

Having turned the point of the Red Sea at Suez, they proceeded towards the south, having the sea on their right, and the broken plain of the desert on the left. In the tongue of land improperly called the “Peninsula of Mount Sinai,” lying between the Sea of Suez and the Gulf of Akaba, over which they were now moving, the danger, while the whole caravan kept together, was not great, as opportunities of plunder being unfrequent, robbers had not sufficient motives for establishing themselves there. The chances of danger being thus diminished, our traveller became imboldened to overstep the limits of prudence, and yielding to his passion for collecting plants and other curiosities, lagged behind, or wandered from the caravan. Scarcely, however, had he tasted the sweets of feeling himself alone in the boundless wilderness, a pleasure more poignant and tumultuous than can be conceived by those who have never experienced it, than he beheld three robbers start up, as it were, from the sand, and rush upon him. Resistance was out of the question. The ruffians immediately seized him, and tearing off his clothes, mean and ragged as they were, two of them began to fight for the possession of them. Meanwhile he stood by, naked, a spectator of the fray, apprehensive that their natural ferocity being aggravated by strife and contention, they might terminate their quarrel by plunging their daggers in his heart. Providence, however, had otherwise determined. The third robber, taking compassion upon his forlorn and helpless condition, allowed him to escape; and after wandering about among the naked rocks and burning sands for some time, he fortunately overtook the caravan.

For several days the sky, as I have already observed, was serene, and the weather beautiful; but on their arriving at Wady Gharendel, a small stream which flows into the Red Sea, a few leagues south of Suez, they observed that the tops of the mountains, which now flanked their road on both sides, were at intervals capped with clouds, which sometimes remained stationary during the whole day. This disposition of the atmosphere was soon after succeeded by a violent tempest. A canopy of dark clouds extended itself over the earth—the lightning flashed incessantly—the thunder rolled along the sky—and the rain descended throughout the night with all the weight and fury of a tropical storm. Such tempests, however, are exceedingly rare in that part of Arabia, though they are not, as Burckhardt observes, at all uncommon in the Hejaz; nor, according to Niebuhr, is Yemen much less liable to them. But in the neighbourhood of Mount Sinai there is usually one uniform course of weather throughout the year, the winds blowing briskly during the day, and decreasing with the decrease of light. In the level parts of the desert, where the plain was as unbroken as a calm sea, our traveller observed that curious phenomenon called the mirage, or mimic lake, every object within the circumference of which appeared to be magnified in an extraordinary manner, so that a shrub might be taken for a tree, and a flock of birds for a caravan of camels. This seeming collection of waters always advanced about a quarter of a mile before the observers, while the intermediate space was one continued glow, occasioned by the quivering undulating motion of that quick succession of vapours and exhalations which were extracted from the earth by the powerful influence of the sun. The few real springs of water which occurred on the road were all of them either brackish or sulphureous; yet the water they afford is so extremely wholesome, and so provocative of appetite, that few persons are ever afflicted with sickness in traversing these wild inhospitable scenes.

Among the curiosities which are scattered by the liberal hand of nature even over these deserts may be enumerated certain beautiful flints and pebbles, which are superior to Florentine marble, and, in many instances, equal to the Mokha stone, in the variety of their figures and representations. Locusts, hornets, and vipers were numerous; and the lizards seem to have considerably amused the loitering members of the caravan by their active movements and spotted skins. Of birds the only ones seen by Shaw were the percnopterus and the dove, as the graceful and beautiful antelope was the only animal; but the ostrich, which he seems to consider neither a bird nor a beast, is the grand ranger, says he, and ubiquitarian of the deserts, from the Atlantic Ocean to the very utmost skirts of Arabia, and perhaps far beyond it to the east. Of the white hares, like those found in the Alps and other cold regions, which some travellers have observed in this peninsula, Dr. Shaw saw no specimen; neither did he meet with any badgers, though, from the frequent mention made of their skins in Exodus, this animal must formerly have abounded here. Nothing, however, seems to have kindled up a poetical fervour in the mind of our traveller like the ostrich, and the magnificent description of its nature and peculiarities which occurs in the book of Job. “When these birds,” he observes, “are surprised by coming suddenly upon them, while they are feeding in some valley, or behind some rocky or sandy eminence in the desert, they will not stay to be curiously viewed and examined. They afford an opportunity only of admiring at a distance the extraordinary agility and the stateliness likewise of their motions, the richness of their plumage, and the great propriety there was of ascribing to them ‘an expanded, quivering wing.’ Nothing certainly can be more beautiful and entertaining than such a sight! the wings, by their repeated though unwearied vibrations, equally serving them for sails and oars; while their feet, no less assisting in conveying them out of sight, are no less insensible of fatigue.”

It was at Gharendel that he supposed the Israelites to have met with those “bitter waters,” or “waters of Marah,” mentioned in Exodus; and he observes that the little rill which is still found in that place has a brackish taste, unless diluted by the dews and rains. Proceeding thirty leagues southward from this place, without meeting with any thing remarkable, they arrived at Elim, upon the northern skirts of the desert of Sin, where, as the Scriptures relate, the Israelites found twelve wells of water and seventy palm-trees. Of the wells our traveller could discern nine only remaining, the other three having been filled up by the sand; but the seventy palm-trees had multiplied to upwards of two thousand, and under their shade was the “Hummum, or Bath of Moses,” which the inhabitants of the neighbouring port of Tor held in great veneration. Here they enjoyed the first view of Mount Sinai, rearing its rugged summit above the plain, and overlooking the whole surrounding country. The traject of the desert of Sin occupied nine hours, and they were nearly twelve hours more in threading the winding and difficult ways which divide that desert from the plain of Sinai. At length, however, they reached the convent of St. Catherine, supposed to be built over the place where Moses saw the angel of the Lord in the burning bush, when he was guarding the flocks of Jethro. This convent, or rather fortress, is nearly three hundred feet square, and upwards of forty in height, constructed partly with stone, partly with earth and mortar. The more immediate place of the Shekinah is marked by a little chapel, which the monks, who are of the order of St. Basil, regard with so remarkable a degree of veneration, that, in imitation of Moses, they take their shoes from off their feet whenever they enter it. This, with many other chapels dedicated to various saints, is included within what is called the “Church of the Transfiguration,” a spacious and beautiful structure, covered with lead, and supported by a double row of marble columns.

The door of this convent is opened only when the archbishop, who commonly resides at Cairo, comes to be installed; and therefore our travellers, like all other pilgrims, were drawn up by a windlass to a window, nearly thirty feet from the ground, where they were admitted by some of the lay brothers. From a notion which prevails but too generally among mankind, that holiness consists in thrusting aside, as it were, the gifts which the hand of Providence holds out to us, the poor men who immure themselves in this wild prison condemn their bodies to extraordinary privations and hardships, not only abstaining, like Brahmins, from animal food, but likewise from the less sinful indulgences of butter, milk, and eggs. With an inconsistency, however, from which even the Pythagoreans of Hindostan are not altogether free, shellfish, crabs, and lobsters are not included within the pale of their superstitious humanity; and of these they accordingly partake as often as they can obtain a supply from their sister convent at Tor, or from Menah el Dizahab. Their ordinary food consists of bread, or biscuit, olives, dates, figs, parched pulse, salads, oil, vinegar, to which, on stated days, half a pint of date brandy is added.

From this convent to the top of Mount Sinai, a perpendicular height, according to our traveller, of nearly seven thousand two hundred feet, there was formerly a stone staircase, built by the Empress Helena; but in many places the effects of her pious munificence have disappeared, and the ascent of the mountain is now considered by the monks sufficiently difficult to be imposed as a severe penance upon their pilgrims and votaries. Dr. Shaw did not, when he had reached it, find the summit very spacious, nor does he seem to have greatly enjoyed the extensive view which it commands over scenes rendered profoundly interesting and memorable by the wanderings of the children of Israel. On descending into the desert of Rephidim, on the western side of the mountain, he was shown the rock of Meribah, from which Moses caused water to gush forth by the stroke of his wand. It was about six yards square, lying tottering, as it were, and loose near the middle of the valley, and seemed to have been formerly a part or cliff of Mount Sinai, which hangs in a variety of precipices all over this plain. The waters had now ceased to flow, but the channel they had once occupied remained, incrustated, to borrow the doctor’s expression, like the inside of a tea-kettle that has been long used, and covered with several mossy productions, whose life and verdure were preserved by the dew.

Having terminated his researches in these desert scenes, which seem to have thrown new light upon numerous points of sacred geography, our traveller returned to Cairo, descended the Nile, and proceeding by sea to Syria, arrived in that country about the commencement of December, 1721. Here he seems, for he has left no exact account of his movements, to have pursued nearly the same route with Maundrell, whose description he regarded as so accurate in general, that he merely noticed such places and things as had either been omitted or imperfectly represented by that traveller. Though it was the middle of winter when he passed through Syria and Phœnicia, the aspect of the country was verdant and cheerful, particularly the woods, which chiefly consisted of the gall-bearing oak, at the roots of which the turf was gemmed with anemones, ranunculuses, colchicums, and the dudaim or mandrakes. The air here, as in Barbary, is temperate, and the climate healthy; and, in like manner, westerly winds bring rain, while the east winds, blowing over immeasurable tracts of land, are generally dry though hazy and tempestuous.

The excursions of our traveller in this country appear to have been few and timid, and he remarks, apparently as an apology for this circumstance, that it was necessary to be upon all occasions attended by a numerous escort; for that numerous bands of Arabs, from fifty to five hundred in number, scoured the plains in every direction in search of booty. But even the presence of an escort was not always a safeguard; for the caravan with which Dr. Shaw travelled to Jerusalem, consisting of at least six thousand pilgrims, protected by three or four hundred spahis and four bands of Turkish infantry, with the mutsellim, or general, at their head, was attacked by one of the marauding parties, and treated with the greatest insult and barbarity. Scarcely was there a pilgrim out of so great a number who was not robbed of part of his clothes or of his money; and those who had not much of either to lose were beaten unmercifully with their pikes or javelins. Our traveller himself was not allowed to remain a mere spectator of the scene, for when the banditti had taken possession of the visible wealth of the party, correctly judging that there still remained a considerable portion which had been adroitly concealed, he was forcibly carried off among the hostages, which they seized upon to ensure a ransom, to Jeremiel or Anashoth. In this desperate position he remained all night, exposed to barbarities and insults, and it is exceedingly probable that his captivity would have been of much longer duration, had not the Aga of Jerusalem, with a numerous body of troops, next morning attacked his captors and set him at liberty.

Having visited the several holy places in and about Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Jericho, and the Jordan, he returned, in April, 1722, towards the seacoast; and in journeying by night through the valleys of Mount Ephraim, was attended for about an hour by an ignis fatuus, which assumed a variety of extraordinary appearances. Sometimes, says the traveller, it was globular, or else pointed, like the flame of a candle; afterward it would spread itself, and involve their whole company in its pale inoffensive light; then at once contract and suddenly disappear. But in less than a minute it would begin again to exert itself as before, running along from one place to another with great swiftness, like a train of gunpowder set on fire; or else it would spread and expand itself over two or three acres of the adjacent mountains, discovering every shrub and tree which grew upon them. The atmosphere from the beginning of the evening had been remarkably thick and hazy, and the dew, as they felt upon their bridles, was unusually clammy and unctuous. This curious meteor our traveller supposes to be of the same nature with those luminous bodies which skip about the masts and yards of ships at sea, and known among sailors by the name of corpo santo, as they were by that of Castor and Pollux among the ancients.