CHAPTER I

THE DISCOVERY OF ACHAEMENIAN RUINS AND INSCRIPTIONS—BARBARO TO LE BRUYN, A.D. 1472-1718

The trilingual inscriptions of the Achaemenian Kings of Persia that have led to the decipherment of the whole cuneiform literature were found chiefly at Persepolis and Behistun; though a single line at Murgab and a short inscription at Hamadan, the ancient Ecbatana, also contributed to an important extent. Other inscriptions were observed at Van in Armenia; at Naksh-i-Rustam, a few miles from Persepolis; upon the site of the ancient Susa, and so far afield as Egypt. They are all monumental: chiselled upon the walls of buildings to record the name of the king who erected the edifice. They are written in three different methods of cuneiform writing, and reproduce the same text in three different languages.

The inscriptions at Persepolis were the first to attract attention. The ruins where they were found had excited curiosity long before their discovery by European travellers, and many legends had arisen to account for their origin. It was variously reported that they were the remains of a palace of Solomon, or of Cai Caius, a predecessor of Cyrus, or of the great national hero Jamshid. The literary classes described them as the Takht-i-Cai Khusrau, or Throne of Cyrus; and later on as the Khaneh-i-Dara or Mansion of Darius. The early travellers, however, learned that the popular name for them was Chehel Minar, or Forty Minarets, from the lofty columns that form their chief architectural characteristic. But during the eighteenth century Jamshid triumphed over all his competitors, and since then they have been more generally known as the Takht-i-Jamshid, or Throne of Jamshid. The question of their origin was not indeed finally settled till the inscriptions were interpreted. Chardin, at the end of the seventeenth century, and Heeren, a hundred years later, still supported the claims of Jamshid. Although it no longer admits of doubt that the buildings were erected by Darius and Xerxes, there is even yet no complete unanimity as to their original design. The more common belief is that they were the actual palaces of the sovereign, and that one of the buildings was the scene of the conflagration ordered by Alexander. Their dimensions and construction offer considerable difficulties to the supposition that they were the actual residence of the great king, though they may have been adapted for official receptions and other ceremonial purposes.

They lie on the south-east slope of a hill overlooking the plain of Mervdasht about forty miles north of Shiraz. Many other remains belonging to the same period are found on both sides of the neighbouring river Polvar. Three miles further up are the ruins of the fortress city of Istakhr; and four miles across the river are the Tombs of Naksh-i-Rustam. Doubtless the great city of Persepolis included within its circuit the whole of these isolated ruins, though the name has become restricted to those that now specially engage our attention. They rise upon a terrace partly hewn from the solid rock, partly constructed of massive blocks of stone. They now consist chiefly of the colossal jambs of doors and windows, the connecting walls having entirely disappeared. Their chief characteristics are the beautiful columns that formerly gave the place its name, and the profusion of bas-reliefs that ornament the stonework. The platform is of very irregular shape, and is encased by a magnificent wall varying in height from twenty to fifty feet. It is approached from the plain on the west side by (1) a Double Staircase sunk into the line of the wall and rising parallel to it. At the summit is (2) a Porch entered between two buttresses supported by colossal bulls; beyond are two other buttresses with winged, human-headed bulls looking in the opposite direction towards the east. In the centre of the edifice marked by these two entrances there were originally four columns designed to support the roof, of which two only are now standing. Turning to the right, towards the south, is (3) a Sculptured Staircase leading up to the Columnar Edifice. It differs from the one already mentioned by standing out considerably from the line of the terrace; indeed there are two projections, the first no less than two hundred and twelve feet in length; the second, which again projects from the centre of the first, is eighty-six feet in length. At either end of each projection is a single flight of steps; and the whole front is seen to be completely covered with bas-reliefs. Beneath the landing stage of the central projection the wall is divided into three compartments. In the centre is a plain polished slab intended for an inscription, and on either side are armed guards. In the spandrils formed by the ascent of the steps is a favourite device representing a contest between a lion and a bull. On the wall to right and left of the central stairs are three horizontal rows of bas-reliefs separated by an ornamental design of roses. They represent a procession of tributaries, leading animals or bearing gifts, about to ascend the central stairs. At either end is a polished slab occupying the whole height of the wall; but only the one to the west has been filled with an inscription. The Columnar Edifice (4), standing on the terrace above, is designed in the form of a Central Cluster and three colonnades—one in front and one on either side. The centre formed a square of thirty-six columns, and each of the colonnades consisted of two rows of six columns. The total number of columns should therefore be seventy-two, of which only thirteen now remain standing. They differ in height, and belong to two different orders. Those in the front colonnade and central group are lower than the others, and have a capital resembling the Ionic order, except that the volutes rise perpendicularly. In the colonnades a double bull or unicorn rests directly upon the shaft; and it has been generally assumed that similar animals were originally superimposed over the voluted capital to make the other columns of equal height. The edifice covered an area of three hundred and fifty feet from east to west, and two hundred and forty-six feet from north to south. Passing through the columns, and continuing in the same southerly direction, the ruins are reached that have yielded the largest number of inscriptions. First in order are the massive jambs belonging to the building now known as (5) the Palace of Darius; and beyond are the remains of three buildings lining the southern terrace. The one to the right is the scarcely discernible ruins of (6) the Palace of Ochus. In the centre rise the huge pilasters of the great (7) Palace of Xerxes; while beyond to the left is a small ruin called (8) the South-eastern Edifice. Turning back towards the north, between these ruins and the hill are the ruins of (9) the Central Edifice, a building resembling the Porch at the summit of the entrance. Beyond, in a line with the Columnar Edifice are the huge remains of the (10) Hall of the Hundred Columns. On the hill overhanging the Platform are two rock tombs similar to those at Naksh-i-Rustam; and, above, some travellers have traced three distinct walls and towers that formed the defence of the palace and city.

The palaces stand upon an artificial terrace of their own raised above the level of the platform, and the stairs leading up to them have afforded an opportunity for the display of ornamentation in bas-relief. The Porch is invariably protected by colossal guards hewn out of the stone. Over the great door of the main entrances the king is depicted entering or leaving the building, with attendants bearing the royal parasol and fly-chaser. On the doors leading to the lateral chambers he may be seen in dignified conflict with wild animals; or, as in the Palace of Xerxes, these scenes are replaced by attendants bearing viands to the royal table. Some of the most elaborate designs are met in the Central Edifice and in the Hall of the Hundred Columns. In the latter the king appears seated in a chair of state raised above the heads of five rows of warriors; while at the opposite door his throne is similarly supported by three rows of figures representing subject nations. These bas-reliefs are surrounded by an exquisite fretted fringe of roses, diversified above by small figures of bulls and lions; and over the whole the winged figure of Ormuzd is seen to hover.

A large inscription occupies the outside wall of the southern terrace. It is in four tablets, known as the H, I, K and L of Niebuhr. The I inscription enumerates the provinces of Darius: another contains the declaration that that Terrace or Fortress was built by Darius, and, ‘before him there was not any fortress in that place.’[4] Above the animals in the Porch is an inscription of Xerxes in three tablets, declaring that it was erected by him, and that it was one of the many beautiful works accomplished by him and his father Darius ‘in Parsa’ (Inscription D). The unilingual inscription on the sculptured staircase informs us that it also was constructed by Xerxes (Inscription A). As we ascend the south stairs to the Palace of Darius, we observe on the façade below the landing stage three tablets of inscriptions which are repeated upon the landing, on the anta in the south-west corner. It is again Xerxes who speaks, but he tells us that it was Darius who erected that palace (Inscriptions C and Cᵃ). Passing through the great doors we observe above the king and his attendants three tablets of inscriptions. They are in the three languages and run: ‘Darius, the great king, king of kings, king of nations, son of Hystaspes, the Achaemenian, has built this palace’ (Inscription B). Within, round the doors and windows is a single-line inscription written on the top in Persian, ascending on the left in Susian and descending on the right hand in Babylonian (Inscription L). On the west side of this palace is a second staircase, added later, of Artaxerxes Ochus, as we learn from a magnificent inscription on the façade (Inscription P). This inscription is repeated on the stairs leading to the palace of that king.[5] Adjoining the latter is the Palace of Xerxes, approached by two principal staircases, one to the east and the other to the west. On both occur inscriptions declaring Xerxes the builder in words repeated upon the wall above and upon the anta of the great Portico (Inscription E). Entering by the great doors we see a short inscription over the king and his attendants, which is repeated over the side doors and windows and even upon the royal robe (Inscription G).

These inscriptions, as we have said, do little more than record the name of the founders, and with the exception of the I inscription, they give no other information. But they are sometimes accompanied by a religious formula consisting of two paragraphs, of which occasionally the second only is given. It runs:

1. ‘A great god is Auramazda who has created this heaven, who has created this earth, who has created men, who has created happiness for men, who has made Darius [or Xerxes] King, the only King among many, the only ruler of many.

2. ‘I am Darius [or Xerxes] the great King, the King of Kings, the King of the lands of many races, King of this great earth far and near; son of Hystaspes [or Darius] the Achaemenian.’

The inscription at Hamadan contains nothing else.

The early travellers were attracted by Naksh-i-Rustam almost as early as by the Chehel Minar. It lies, as we have said, about four miles distant, across the Polvar, and no doubt it formed part of the great city. The bas-reliefs that excited the most curiosity belong to the Sassanian period and do not concern us here; but the tombs are Achaemenian. They are executed in the face of the rock and are four in number. They are comprised within a space of two hundred yards, and in exterior design they are precisely alike. They are in the shape of a Greek cross, and the transverse section reproduces in half relief the façade of a palace. In the topmost section there rests a rectangular stage ornamented with two rows of human figures, each containing fourteen persons in different costumes, designed to represent the various satrapies of the Empire. Upon it the king is seen standing on a dais; before him is an altar upon which the sacred fire is burning, and above floats the image of Ormuzd. The second tomb from the east is the only one that bears an inscription, and from it we learn that it was the resting place of the great Darius. The façade has four tablets of inscriptions, two in Persian and one each in the Susian and Babylonian languages. The Persian text inscribed in the upper limb of the cross is the best preserved and the most difficult of access. It consists of sixty lines and contains a second and later list of the provinces of the Empire (Inscription NR). Beneath it, between the half columns in the transverse section, is another Persian inscription, originally of about the same length, but so mutilated that only fifteen lines have been partly copied (Inscription NR ᵇ). The names of three of the great officers of the Crown have also been recovered (Inscriptions NR ᶜ, ᵈ, ᵉ), and quite recently the names of seven supporters of the throne have been added.

Ascending the valley of the Polvar, at a distance of forty miles to the north of Persepolis the traveller reaches another large group of Achaemenian ruins, which it is now generally admitted represent Pasargadae, the city of Cyrus. The early travellers were attracted by a curious edifice standing among them which they were told was the Tomb of the Mother of Solomon; but it was not till the nineteenth century that its similarity to the tomb of Cyrus, described by Arrian, struck the imaginative Morier, the author of ‘Hajji Baba.’ At the same time a single-line inscription was found repeated on several pillars with the legend: ‘I am Cyrus, the King, the Achaemenian’ (Inscription M).

The discovery of the Achaemenian ruins and inscriptions, to which we have briefly called attention, dates from the beginning of the seventeenth century. Till then Persia was almost entirely unknown to European travellers, and only a few scattered notices of the Persepolitan ruins come to us earlier. The first of these dates back to the end of the fifteenth century, and is due to a Venetian ambassador, Giosafat Barbaro, who visited the country in 1472. The account of his mission was not, however, published till 1545. He tells us that a day’s journey from Camara he came to a great bridge across the ‘Bindamyr,’ which he heard had been built by Solomon.[6] Not far distant he perceived a hill where on a level spot, stood forty columns, called from that circumstance ‘Cilminar.’ Some of them are in ruins, but from what remains it is evident the building was formerly very beautiful. Above the terrace there rises a rock on which human figures of gigantic size are sculptured, and over them appears a figure which resembles ‘God the Father in a circle.’[7] Elsewhere he observed a tall figure on horseback who he was told was Samson, and others clothed after the French fashion. ‘Two days distant from this place is a place called Thimar, and another two days farther we come to a village where there is a sepulchre, in which they say the mother of Solomon is buried. Upon it is a kind of chapel on which are engraven Arabic characters denoting “Mother of Solomon.” This place they call Messeth Suleimen, or Temple of Solomon. The door looks towards the east.’ Such is the earliest account in modern times of the famous ruins of Persepolis and Pasargadae, although Barbaro was quite unaware of their identity. It will be observed that he also visited Naksh-i-Rustam, and saw in the Sassanian bas-relief of Rustam the figure of Samson. It is possible that the notes of his journey were fuller than the published account, and they may have fallen into the hands of Sebastiano Serlio, a Bolognese architect. A few years before the appearance of the ‘Viagi,’ Serlio published his celebrated treatise on Architecture, which enjoyed extraordinary popularity, and was translated into many languages.[8] In it he gives a drawing of the façade of an edifice which he had heard was supported by a hundred columns. He had never seen it or its ruins, and seems to have had no idea where the building had stood, though he apparently gives us to understand that it was Grecian. The drawing shows a building with ten columns in front, adorned with Corinthian capitals, and supporting a second story of four columns and architrave. He had heard that only a few of the columns remained above ground, but he decided to present his readers with his conception of what it must have resembled. He ventures so far as to give the dimensions of the columns, although he anticipates that the whole thing will be flouted as a chimera or a dream. He thus gives us the first of a long series of conjectural ‘restorations,’ with which successive generations of architects have enlivened their books and obscured the subject in hand. He is certain that some such building with a hundred columns had existed somewhere, but it never seems to have entered his mind that he had to go so far afield as Persia to find it. Whether the idea was suggested by what he had heard from Barbaro we cannot say; but it is a complete error to suppose that he represented his drawing as ‘the plan and elevation of Persepolis.’[9] The first to suggest the identity was Don Garcia, who, however, does not appear to have read what Serlio had to say on the subject.[10] He thought Serlio had called his drawing the ‘Forty Alcorans’ and omitted its size and proportion. Serlio, on the contrary, says nothing about forty columns, and he gives the proportions of his imaginary edifice, which he leaves us to infer was one of the marvels of Greece.

It was not till the Portuguese found their way round the Cape of Good Hope that communication with Persia became regular and frequent. In 1508, Alboquerque conquered the island of Ormuz at the entrance to the Persian Gulf. Even at that time this barren rock was the resort of merchants from India; and under Portuguese rule it rapidly rose to great prosperity. Its king was permitted to retain his rank and a nominal authority, but his dominions, which included the islands of Kesem and Bahrein and the port of Gombrun on the mainland passed under Portuguese influence. In the division of the East among the religious orders, Persia fell to the Augustinians, to be the special field of their missionary labours. They erected a church and convent at Ormuz, which continued for a hundred years to be a centre of their activity. In the reign of Don Sebastian the Father Symon de Morales became its prior and applied himself to the acquisition of the Persian language. Soon after the union of the Portuguese and Spanish thrones, Philip II. instructed the Viceroy of the Indies to send an envoy to the King of Persia in order to settle the details of the commercial intercourse which had arisen between the two countries, and no one was better qualified to undertake the task than Morales, upon whom the selection fell (1583). The route from Ormuz to Ispahan, then the capital of Persia, passed within a short distance of Persepolis; and it is to the long succession of envoys who travelled that way that we are in great measure indebted for our knowledge of these ruins and the mysterious characters engraven upon their walls.

The missions took place chiefly in the reign of Shah Abbas (1587-1628), a monarch whose alliance against the Turk was eagerly sought for by the European powers. He had not only distinguished himself in the early part of his reign by considerable military capacity, but had evinced a strong desire to develop the commercial resources of his country. Indeed, he was as much of a merchant as a soldier. He was the chief, if not the sole, owner of the silk industry, and he sought to attract the merchants of all nations by permitting the freest competition among them. He did everything in his power to render the country agreeable to strangers. He erected sumptuous caravansaries for their accommodation upon the road. He made travelling even in remote districts absolutely safe, by the slaughter, it was said, of twenty thousand robbers. He received men of all nationalities and of the most diverse creeds with equal hospitality. He even sought to attract skilled artisans from Europe to instruct his subjects, and he caused his palaces to be decorated by foreign artists. The period of his reign was peculiarly favourable for the execution of his liberal projects. The Portuguese trade was carried on with great success from Ormuz. About 1595 the Dutch made their first appearance in the Indian Seas, and gave a great stimulus to competition. Nor were the English merchants indifferent to the opening of a new market. So far back as 1861 Antonie Jenkinson visited Persia with that object, but he was not favourably received. In the first year of the seventeenth century, John Mildenhall, accompanied by John Cartwright, a student of Magdalen, renewed the overtures, and they found Shah Abbas even then well disposed to cede a port on the Gulf. In 1609, Joseph Salbancke again reported favourably of the commercial prospects if an English fleet could contend successfully against the Portuguese and Dutch. At length the East India Company, which was founded in 1600, succeeded in opening the trade in 1614, and from that year a British Resident was regularly established at Ispahan. It thus happened that both political events and commercial enterprise concurred at the same time to bring Persia into communication with Europe, and a country that only a few years before was scarcely known became the frequent resort of travellers.

In 1601, Philip II. thought it advisable to renew diplomatic intercourse with this great monarch, and he instructed the Viceroy at Goa to despatch a second mission to Ispahan. The Viceroy chose three Augustinian friars, among whom was Antoine de Gouvea, who has left an interesting account of his travels. Gouvea was the Rector of the College of Goa, and Professor of Theology, and he had acquired a competent knowledge of Persian. The party landed at Ormuz early in 1602, and set out in May to join the king, but they turned aside from the direct route to visit ‘Chelminira,’ or the Forty Columns, which he believed to be the ‘sepulchre of an old king who was buried here.’[11] He found, however, that the tomb was on the side of the mountain, and was generally attributed to Cyrus. He thought it was more probably to be assigned to Assuerus or Artaxerxes, and the tomb close by to his wife, Queen Vasti. The ruins of the Forty Columns were locally known as ‘the Old Town,’ and it was thought that it had been the original site of Shiraz. Old writers confirmed this view, because they said the river Bondamiro[12] (which passes near the ruins) ‘washed the walls of Shiraz.’ Gouvea, following the geographical writers of the time, had no doubt that Shiraz was the ancient Persepolis. It never occurred to him to connect it with ‘the old town’ of Chelminar, to which tradition pointed as the original site of Shiraz. He called attention to the magnificent staircase that leads from the plain to the platform on which the ruins stand. Two staircases, he says, rise from the foot of the mountain, _vis-à-vis_ one to the other, consisting of numerous steps well adjusted, and cut out of immense blocks of stone. The two stairs converge to one common landing place; and, writing evidently from memory, he adds that the sides are adorned with figures in relief, so well made that ‘he doubts if it were possible to execute them better.’ The Porch is, he says, adorned with ‘figures of savage animals cut out of a single block, and so lifelike that they appear as though they desired to excite fear.’ He describes the columns as surmounted by beautiful statues. On the Portico and in various places among the ruins he saw the portrait of the king. He does not mention any of the ruins on the platform; they appear all to come under the comprehensive description of ‘chapels,’ which he says were built of huge blocks of stone. But he noticed the two tombs on the hill, one being ‘the sepulchre of the king, which is not very different from the other.’ He confuses the great entrance stairs leading to the Porch with the sculptured stairs leading to the Court of the Columns; and represents it as approached directly through the Porch. It was a long time before this error was cleared up. Gouvea called attention to the inscriptions. ‘The writing,’ he says, ‘may be clearly seen in many places, and it may explain by whom the building was erected and the purpose it was intended to serve; but there is no one who can understand it, because the characters are neither Persian, Arabic, Armenian, nor Hebrew, the languages now in use in the district; so that everything contributes to obliterate the knowledge of that which the ambitious prince desired to render eternal.’

When Gouvea arrived at the Court, which was then at Machad, the capital of Khorassan (or Bactria), he was met by Robert Sherley, an Englishman, who was then not more than twenty years of age. Sherley, we hear, was naturally of good disposition, though infected by the pestiferous errors he had imbibed in England.[13] He was no match in argument for the Professor of Theology, and after some discussion ‘he was converted and submitted to the Roman Church with seven or eight of his suite.’ Gouvea, as was natural, attributed great importance to these conversions, and although he publicly declared that the primary object of his mission was to kindle a war with the Turk, he lost no opportunity of assuring the king that his heart was set much more on ‘teaching the knowledge of the true God.’ He presented his Majesty with a ‘Life of Our Lord,’ richly bound, and certain religious pictures sent by the Archbishop of Goa; and he continued, in season and out of season, to press the faith upon his acceptance. The Shah, who was surrounded by Christians both in the harem and the Court, treated these importunities with toleration, and his courtesy encouraged the zealous priest to hope that he might number him among his converts.[14] A Persian merchant, who noticed with surprise the civility of the king towards Christians, had already circulated a report in Italy of his approaching admission into the Church, and Gouvea was surprised to meet at Ispahan with an embassy of Carmelite fathers sent by Clement VIII., with instructions to arrange the details attending the conversion of the country. These extravagances prejudiced the position of the Portuguese fathers, and they found that the Shah was beginning to grow weary of the whole affair. He, however, granted them leave to turn a large disused palace into a monastery, and to build a church.

Gouvea quitted Ispahan in company with a Persian envoy bound for Spain, who was the bearer of a letter from the Shah to Philip. The two other fathers remained behind to supervise the interests of their community. While Gouvea was still on his way to the coast, he received the pleasing news that war between Turkey and Persia had actually broken out.

The war was carried on by Rudolph in Europe and Abbas in Asia, till 1607, when the Emperor concluded the Peace of Sitvatorok, without consulting the convenience of his ally. The Shah was extremely displeased by an act that, without any warning, left him to bear the whole brunt of the campaign. It was while he was still suffering from the unfaithfulness of his European allies that Gouvea appeared for the second time at his Court. He left Goa in February 1608, and arrived at Ispahan in June; but it was with difficulty he could obtain an interview with the Shah. On his return to Portugal he was raised to the bishopric of Cyrene. He wrote his book in 1609, before he left Goa, and he evidently brought it with him to Lisbon, where it was published in 1611.

At the Spanish Court he had an opportunity of meeting Don Garcia de Silva Figueroa, who was subsequently to visit Persia as Ambassador, and to interest him in the ruins of Chehel Minar. In view of his projected journey, Don Garcia made a special study of the antiquities of the country in the original authorities, and in such modern books as were then available. He was a Castilian of high rank, and about fifty-seven years of age at the time he left on his mission, in 1614. He had an extremely difficult part to play, and one little suited to his haughty and irascible temper. The Portuguese authorities were greatly incensed at the appointment of a Spaniard, and they threw every obstacle in his way. The Viceroy detained him at Goa on one pretext or another from November 1614 to March 1617, when at length the Ambassador hazarded the voyage to Ormuz in a small vessel of two hundred tons.[15] On his arrival he found the Portuguese governor of the island nearly as intractable as the Viceroy, and it was not till October that he was able to continue his journey. He passed that winter at Shiraz, which he said was certainly the Cyropolis of the ancients and the place of burial of Cyrus, its founder. He found his sojourn intolerably dull: he complains that there was ‘not as much as any bookes except a few pamphlets intreating of Holy Confession, and Navarr’s Summes which the monkes of St. Augustine use.’ In April 1618, he set out for Ispahan, and reached the bridge across the ‘Bradamir,’ which river he had no doubt was the ancient Araxes. A league further on he came to the ruins of ‘Chelminara,’ of which he had heard so much from Gouvea. He did not hesitate to identify them at once with ‘those huge wilde buildings of the castle and Palace of Persepolis’; and he appears to have been the first to make this identification.[16] Gouvea, as we have seen, had no doubt that Shiraz was built on the site of Persepolis. Cartwright, to whose journey we have already alluded, was so convinced of the same that he heads a chapter ‘Description of Sieras, ancient Persepolis,’ and adds: ‘This is the city Alexander burnt at the request of a drunken strumpet, himself being the first president in that wofull misery.’[17]

Don Garcia is warm in his praise of ‘this rare yea and onely monument of the world (which farre exceedeth all the rest of the world’s miracles that we have seen or heard off).’ He found only twenty of the pillars left standing, but there were broken remains of many others close by; and half a league distant in the plain he noted another, and still farther off two short ones. He mentions the numerous bas-reliefs that ‘doe seele the front, the sides and the statlier parts of this building.’ The human figures are ‘deckt with a very comely clothing and clad in the same fashion which the Venetian magnificoes goe in: that is gownes down to the heeles with wide sleeves, with round flat caps, their hair spred to the shoulders and notable long beards.’ Some are seated in ‘loftier chayres’ with a ‘little footstoole neatly made about a hand high.’ He was particularly struck by the ‘hardnesse and durablenesse of these Marbles and Jaspers so curiously wrought and polished that yee may see your face in them as in a glasse.’ He was embarrassed to define the style of architecture, ‘whether Corinthian, Ionick, Dorick, or mixt.’ He called especial attention to ‘one notable inscription cut in a Jasper Table, with characters still so fresh and faire that one would wonder how it could scape so many ages without touch of the least blemish. The letters themselves are neither Chaldæan, nor Hebrew, nor Greeke nor Arabike, nor of any other nation which was ever found of old or at this day to be extant. They are all three-cornered, but somewhat long, of the form of a Pyramide, or such a little obeliske as I have set in the margin (△), so that in nothing doe they differ from one another but in their placing and situation.’ He notes that the threefold circle of walls said to have surrounded the castle ‘hath yielded to the time and weather.’ He mentions also the Tombs. ‘There stand,’ he says, ‘the sepulchres of their Kings placed on the side of that hill at the foote whereof the Castle itself is built.’ He did not himself visit Naksh-i-Rustam, but apparently his servants went, and ‘did see some horses of marble, large like a Colossus and some men also of giantly stature.’ This description is taken from a letter written by Don Garcia from Ispahan in 1619 to a friend at Venice. It was published at Antwerp in the following year, and appeared in English in 1625, in Purchas’ Pilgrims. A more detailed account is found in the ‘Embassy of Don Garcia,’ a work elaborated from his notes or memoirs by a member of his suite, and translated into French in 1667. It contains a very full, and on the whole accurate, description of the ruins. He noticed the irregular slope of the terrace, which he attributed to the exigencies of defence. The double staircase leading to the platform is so constructed that ‘one can easily ride up on horseback.’ On reaching the summit he noticed the Porch, the walls of which, he said, are supported by two great horses in white marble, larger than elephants, each with two wings, and with eyes expressive of the dignity of the lion. Beyond is another door adorned in the same manner, and exactly between the two stands a large column on its pedestal.[18] The Porch leads to the Columnar Edifice, where he saw twenty-seven columns still standing (not, as Purchas says, twenty), but there had evidently originally been forty-eight arranged in six rows of eight each.

He observed that they belonged to two different orders: the one resembled the column in the Porch; the others, he says, have no capitals except that upon one he perceived the half of a horse without its head. Singularly enough he falls into the same error as Gouvea, an error reproduced in some of the earlier engravings of the ruins; and represents the columns as standing upon the same level as the Porch. According to our author, therefore, on leaving the Columnar Edifice he came to a ‘very beautiful stair, which though not so large nor so high as the first, is incomparably more beautiful and magnificent, having on the walls and balustrade a triumph or procession of men curiously clothed, carrying flags and banners and offerings. At one extremity of the procession we see a chariot drawn by horses, in which there is an altar from whence a flame of fire is seen to rise. At the other are combats of animals, among which he observed a lion tearing a bull, so well represented that art can add nothing to its perfection: it is impossible indeed to discover the slightest defect.’ Having ascended the stairs, he reached a court on which he observed a ruined building, consisting of several parts, each part about sixty feet long by twelve feet wide. This is the first distinct mention of what is now known as the Palace of Darius. The walls are six or seven feet thick and twenty-four feet high, and are so profusely adorned with figures in relief that it would require several days to examine them adequately, and several months to describe them in detail. The one that struck him most was the representation of a ‘venerable personage,’ sometimes seated ‘on an elevated bench,’ sometimes walking, accompanied by two attendants holding a parasol and a fly-chaser over his head. He was greatly impressed by the ‘perfection and vivacity’ of the figures; and ‘especially by the drapery and dress of the men.’ They are cut in ‘white marble and incorporated in the black stone,’ the latter being of such exquisite polish that it reflects as clearly as a mirror—so much so indeed that the Ambassador’s dog, Roldan, shrank back in terror from the reflection of his own ferocity. This perfection of polish is the more remarkable, considering the great antiquity of the work, which must date from the monarchy of Assyria, or even earlier. He noted the strange peculiarity that among the immense number of figures there was not a single representation of a woman. He observed inscriptions in some places, but ‘the characters,’ he said, ‘are wholly unknown, and are no doubt more ancient than those of the Hebrews, Chaldeans and Arabians, with which they have no relation; and their resemblance to those of the Greeks and Latins is still less.’ The ruins of the Palace of Xerxes seem to have escaped his notice; but he visited the Hall of the Hundred Columns. It covers, he says, a square of a hundred paces, the ground in the centre being thickly strewn with fallen columns. It looks more like an accumulation of several ruins than the remains of a single edifice. Here also were bas-reliefs upon the walls, larger than life and representing ‘furious combats with terrible and ferocious animals; some resembling winged lions and others serpents.’

He noticed the two famous sepulchres on the side of the mountain overhanging the ruins, above the space enclosed by the walls of the terrace. He observed that they were formed by a wall of black marble thirty feet square, covered with figures in white marble. On the top appears a man of authority, possibly a king or prince, seated on a throne, with several figures standing round him. Before him is an altar with fire burning upon it. Near it is a coffer cut into the rock, which seems to have been the sepulchre. It is seven or eight feet long by three feet wide. The tombs are separated forty to fifty paces from each other but are of similar design. It might, he thought, be at first supposed, as Gouvea seems to have imagined, that the splendid ruins below were intended only as an ‘ornament’ for the tomb of the Great King: but further reflection convinced the writer that they were none other than the Palace and Citadel of the Persepolis described by ancient authors; and indeed there is distinct evidence of the conflagration due to the impetuosity of Alexander.

Till Don Garcia made the elaborate notes from which the writer of the foregoing account derived his information, ‘nothing assured’ was known in Europe concerning these remarkable remains. Sebastian Serlio, we are told in his work on Architecture, only knew of them from ‘an uncertain and barbarous relation,’ and he has given us merely a rough drawing of the edifice, showing forty small columns with Corinthian capitals.[19] Don Garcia even complains that Gouvea could only give him a ‘confused’ account. Don Garcia brought an artist with him, and he took the best means of dissipating the obscurity in which the subject was hitherto involved by having drawings made upon the spot. The artist said he intended to copy the triumphal procession on the stairs, but he probably found the time at his disposal insufficient for this labour, for he afterwards says he actually accomplished the drawing of four of the figures, upon one of which were ‘the characters composed of little triangles in the form of a pyramid.’ But of greater importance than these was the copy Don Garcia ordered to be taken of ‘a whole line of the large inscription which is on the staircase in the centre of the triumphal procession. It is to be found on a highly polished table, four feet in height, in which the letters are deeply cut.’ We are unable to say whether these drawings appeared in the original Spanish edition, but they have not been reproduced in the French translation.

Don Garcia finally reached Ispahan in 1618, where he was detained till August in the following year. His mission turned out a complete failure. One of its principal objects was to secure a monopoly of the Persian trade for Spain. Just as he reached Goa he heard that the Governor of Lara had taken Gombrun from the Portuguese. While he was in Persia, he had the mortification to find that port regularly used every year by the English to land their goods. In 1618, peace was concluded between Persia and Turkey, and the Shah was thus rendered independent of the Spanish alliance, while he was daily becoming more disposed to rely upon the English merchant fleet in the event of an open rupture with the Portuguese of Ormuz. He had always consistently opposed the concession of a monopoly to any one nation, and he now found himself sufficiently powerful to reject the demands of Spain. The discomfited Ambassador left in August 1619, and spent the winter at Ormuz in the hope of a favourable change in the aspect of affairs: and he finally reached Spain in 1622, after an adventurous voyage.

During his residence in the Persian capital, he made the acquaintance of Pietro della Valle, a Roman gentleman of considerable fortune, who had been travelling for some years in the East. In consequence of a disappointment in love he had sought relief in foreign adventure, and at the age of twenty-nine he embarked at Venice for Constantinople. After visiting Egypt and the Holy Land, he crossed the desert to Bagdad. At that time Bagdad was commonly supposed to be built on the site of the ancient city of Babylon. But Della Valle had no difficulty in pointing out that this was evidently an error, for we know that the one city was built on the Tigris, while the other stood on the Euphrates. He made several excursions through Mesopotamia, and visited the mounds near Hillah, which he had no doubt covered the ruins of the true Babylon. He has left an account of the state in which he found them, which may still be read with interest; and he picked up some of the bricks, both baked and unbaked, of which they are composed.[20] These he subsequently brought back with him to Rome, where they were included in his private collection of antiquities. They were perhaps the first specimens that ever reached Europe, and a few of them may still be seen in the Museo Kircheriano. He indulged his antiquarian tastes by endeavouring to ascertain the sites of some of the famous cities of antiquity, and he seems to have been the first to identify that of Ctesiphon correctly. At Bagdad he married a Mesopotamian lady, and afterwards crossed the mountains of Kurdistan into Persia. He was cordially welcomed to the Court by Shah Abbas, who enrolled him among the privileged number of ‘Guests of the King.’

In the autumn of 1621, after a sojourn of nearly five years, Della Valle thought it expedient for many reasons to turn his steps homewards. He had fallen into very bad health, and it was clear that he had ceased to be cordially received at Court, although he professes to have left without having forfeited its favour.[21] Accordingly on October 1, he quitted Ispahan without any formal leave-taking, and followed the usual road to the coast. After several days’ journey he came to the Puli Neu, or New Bridge over the ‘Kur,’ no doubt the ‘Cyrus’ of the ancients, and probably also identical with the Araxes, a word that simply means ‘river.’ He followed its course till he came to a small rivulet called the Polvar, which at first he thought must correspond to the Medus of Strabo, an opinion he subsequently rejected on the ground that the stream was not of sufficient importance. Having crossed it by a bridge, he at length reached Chehel Minar, and pitched his tents close to the ruins.[22] The ‘Geographical Epitome’ of Ferrari, which Della Valle carried with him, represented Shiraz as the probable position of Persepolis, an opinion which Gouvea had not controverted. We have seen, however, that Don Garcia had no difficulty in identifying Chehel Minar with the ruins of the ancient Persian Palace. Della Valle had no doubt often discussed the matter with him during the winter of 1618, which they spent together at Ispahan, and he accepts the identification of the site of Persepolis without hesitation. He was, however, by no means convinced that the ruins upon the Terrace are the remains of the Palace. Without decisively rejecting that supposition, he was more inclined to believe that they were originally designed for a great temple. The scene on the sculptured staircase he regarded as a sacrificial procession; and the imposing figure beneath the umbrella might represent a high priest no less than a king. He could not discover any indications that the principal buildings had ever been roofed, which he considered a strong confirmation of the temple theory. He observed that the ‘horses’ on the Porch were human-headed with wings like griffins, and that their backs were apparently protected by iron harness. He thought the monsters on the other two piers were the same, only facing in the opposite direction. Between them he saw there had originally been four columns, two of which were still standing, and the others fallen to the ground. Turning to the right towards the south, he observed a large vase of marble, about twenty-four feet square, that had evidently been intended for ablutions; and passing farther on in the same direction he came to the sculptured staircase, which he now places for the first time in its correct position beneath the Columnar Edifice. We also learn that the figures on both sides are turned towards the central stairs, and present the appearance of a procession about to ascend the steps. He gives a detailed account of the bas-reliefs, and observes that the different groups are separated from each other by a design representing the cypress tree. The various animals that figure in the procession lead him to think they were intended for sacrifice, and hence that the edifice had been probably a temple. He fixes the position of the inscriptions at the extreme end of the procession. He is much less enthusiastic in his praise than Don Garcia. He does not consider that the figures of men and animals, nor those of trees, are well designed; and he thinks the beauty of the work as a whole consists chiefly in its antiquity and in the magnificence of the marble of which it is composed. Don Garcia had counted twenty-seven columns, but at the time of Della Valle’s visit, only three and a half years later, not more than twenty-five remained. As he approached from the north he observed the traces of two rows of columns stretching from east to west. Beyond them is a vacant space, about sufficient for two rows of columns; and then we come to a central group of six rows of columns arranged from north to south. On either side, to west and east of the central group, but separated from it by the distance already mentioned, there are double rows of columns, as on the north side. He says nothing of any colonnade on the south, where in fact there is none. The columns are about twenty-six and a half feet apart, and some are higher than others, from which he inferred that the building was not roofed, and could not therefore have been the palace of a king. He could not find any trace of a staircase leading to an upper story.

Passing the columns and continuing in the same southerly direction, he observed two small chambers, one on the right hand, near the edge of the Terrace; the other on the left hand, towards the mountain. They are not really chambers, but open courts; nor are they surrounded by walls, but by the jambs of doors and windows. As in the Columnar Edifice, there are no indications that the buildings were roofed, and on that account he believes they were parts of a temple where sacrifices were offered in the open air; he does not consider they were designed for a sepulchre. In addition to the ‘venerable personage’ already noted by Don Garcia, he remarked that men are depicted on the side doors struggling or fighting with lions. Behind this chamber, in a small open court, he saw two high pilasters with inscriptions at the top, but at such an elevation that he could not distinguish the characters. From this point we fail to follow him with equal certainty. He detected a group of columns forming a square of six in a ruin that evidently corresponds to the Palace of Xerxes; and he observed the remains of an aqueduct below. He alludes to another enclosure which may possibly be the Hall of the Hundred Columns, although he thought it could have been no part of the original design of the fabric.

He remarked the great inscription near the lion on the wall of the sculptured terrace below the Columnar Edifice. ‘It occupies,’ he says, ‘the entire height of the wall from top to bottom. One cannot tell in what language or letters these inscriptions are written, because the characters are unknown. They are very large and are not united to one another, but divided and distinct, each by itself alone as in Hebrew: if indeed what I take for a letter only is not a complete word. I have copied five of them as best I could, and they are those that occur most frequently.’[23] The lines of the inscription are filled up ‘so that I cannot tell whether they are to be read from right to left as in Oriental languages, or from left to right as with us.’ He is, however, disposed to believe they are read from left to right, because when the ‘pyramidical figure’ is vertical the head is always uppermost, and when the figure slopes or is placed horizontally the head is to the left and the point inclined to the right. He remarked that the writing was composed entirely of the one pyramidical figure and of an angular character more slender than the other; and it was simply the number and disposition of these two forms that constituted the difference of the letter.

Don Garcia had no doubt that the ruins had been entirely devoted to the secular uses of a palace and citadel. We have seen that Della Valle, though he accepted their identification with Persepolis, could not readily believe that the large roofless buildings had ever been suited for a dwelling, and he therefore inclined to the theory that they were the remains of a temple.

From his tent at Chehel Minar he rode a league to the north to the base of the hills that surround the plain, in order to visit a monument called Naksh-i-Rustam—of which he is the first to give an account. He explains that Rustam is a celebrated Persian hero who lived about the time of Cyrus. Della Valle came to a large square space levelled in the side of the rock, on which various figures larger than life were cut in half relief. The subject represented two men on horseback, the one endeavouring to wrest from the other a ring which he held in his hand. A third person appears on horseback, holding the hand of a man by his side. Elsewhere he observed figures of women, and other subjects to which he could not assign a meaning. Near these sculptures he noticed remains that could only have been intended for sepulchres. Among these were two square pedestals with an aperture above to contain the ashes of the body. Elsewhere he observed on the side of the mountain several openings like windows, possibly intended to admit a corpse. But the most remarkable discovery was a sculpture that could only be reached by ladders. It represented the front of a house; a door in the centre and several columns on each side, supporting an architrave—frieze and cornice. The front was ornamented with various figures which he could not accurately define on account of the height of the monument. But he thought he discerned a man leaning upon a bow and contemplating an altar. Above him, as if suspended in the air, was a figure which appeared to his companions to resemble the Devil. He thought this was probably Jamshid, who had reigned many years before Cyrus, and who is still remembered as a great enchanter, and possibly to be identified with Nebuchadnezzar. He had seen two somewhat similar sepulchres just over Chehel Minar (those noticed by Don Garcia), and one of these he had been able to enter. He found they were excavated from the rock, quadrilateral in shape, and about the height of a man; with three large hollow niches at the sides, which he somewhat fancifully imagined had been used as reservoirs for water. A long stone he observed on the floor appeared to cover the place of sepulture. He thought the city of Persepolis might have covered the whole plain between Chehel Minar and Naksh-i-Rustam.

Della Valle only passed two days among these ruins, and then continued his journey to Shiraz. His intention was to go to Ormuz and take a passage to Goa, from whence he could find his way back to Europe. As he approached the coast, however, he found his journey impeded from a very unexpected cause. The departure of Don Garcia from Ispahan, in the summer of 1619, had been followed by the interruption of the good relations between the Portuguese and the Persians. While the Ambassador was still detained at Ormuz (1619-20) he had the mortification to witness the English merchant fleet arrive and calmly proceed to take the soundings of the harbour of Gombrun, which, since its annexation to Persia, had acquired the new name of Bunder Abbas, or Port of Abbas. In the spring (1620), hostilities broke out between Persia and the Arabs of the opposite coast, who were friendly to the Portuguese. With a view to reprisals the latter threw the Persian merchants at Ormuz into prison. As the year advanced, the Portuguese fleet arrived with positive orders to recover Gombrun and the island of Bahrein, and also to build a fort at Kesem to secure the water supply. The friction that existed between the Portuguese and Spanish authorities delayed the immediate execution of these instructions, and meanwhile the annual English fleet had time to arrive. An engagement at once followed, and the Portuguese were forced to withdraw (January 1621). When the English vessels left the Gulf with their cargo the Portuguese returned, and speedily began hostilities by landing a force on the island of Kesem and beginning the erection of a fort (June 1621). In the autumn they destroyed the Port of the Two Headlands on the mainland, and the Persian army immediately occupied the whole coast line and cut off communications with Ormuz (October). This event occurred just at the time Della Valle was on his journey to Bunder Abbas. He approached sufficiently near to hear the roar of cannon from Ormuz, and after making some useless attempts to cross to the island, he retired to Mina, where, under the protection of the English merchants, he waited the course of events (October 1621). The town was very unhealthy. His wife died, and he himself was reduced to the point of death. As soon as the English fleet arrived the Persians with their assistance commenced hostilities in earnest. Kesem was occupied and the new fort destroyed. Ormuz itself was attacked, and fell after an heroic resistance (April 1622). The Portuguese held the port of Jask on the mainland till the following year (1623), when it was taken by the English to avenge the death of their commander Shilling, and handed over to the Persians. Thus the Portuguese were finally driven from the Persian Gulf, and their trade was transferred to the English and Dutch.[24] Della Valle returned to Shiraz to recruit his health, and it was not till January 1623 that he found a passage in an English vessel to Surat. He reached Rome in 1626, bringing with him the body of his wife, and a large collection of curiosities. He gave an account of his adventures in a series of letters to a friend at Naples: the one which contains his description of Persepolis is dated from Shiraz, October 21, 1621. On his return to Rome he made a collection of his scattered correspondence, but the first part did not appear till 1650, only two years before his death; the portion (Part III.) that contains the letter on Persepolis was first published in 1658. It included the five cuneiform letters he had copied on the spot, and although their publication was delayed for nearly forty years they still seem to have been the first to appear in Europe; for we are not aware that the drawings of Don Garcia ever saw the light.

Meanwhile Persepolis was visited by an English traveller, whose description long anticipated that of Della Valle. It will be recollected that Gouvea met a young Englishman, Robert Shirley, at Ispahan in 1602, and won him over to the Catholic faith. Shirley was subsequently employed by Shah Abbas as Envoy to the European Courts, and he resided for many years in Spain. The fall of Ormuz put an end to his mission in that country, and in 1623 we find him in England. He was a somewhat absurd person who adhered to Oriental costume, and went about in a red turban surmounted by a cross. A singular occurrence cast suspicion on the validity of his credentials as a Persian envoy. A native Persian arrived on the scene, who treated Shirley’s pretensions with contempt, and gave himself out as the only true representative of the Shah. The documents that could alone settle the dispute were all written in Persian, and no independent person could then be found in the whole of England who was able to read a word of that language. The controversy grew warm, and the native Persian enforced his position by knocking his rival down. At length it was determined to send an English ambassador to Ispahan to clear up the matter, and Sir Dormer Cotton was selected. He was accompanied by Sir Thomas Herbert, who has left an account of his adventures. They sailed from Tilbury on Good Friday 1626 and reached Bunder Abbas in January 1627. He found the English in enjoyment of high favour in consequence of the assistance they had lately rendered in driving the Portuguese from the Gulf. They were ‘privileged to wear their flags displayed at the top of their publick houses’ or consulates, and there were many merchants, both English and Dutch, living in the town. Nor does it appear to have been a wholly undesirable residence. Herbert speaks in praise of the ‘Buzaar,’ the numerous coffee-houses, sherbet-shops, and other places of entertainment. Its prosperity had increased immensely since the fall of Ormuz, ‘which of late was the glory of the East, but had now become the most disconsolate.’

The description Herbert gives of Persepolis in the first two editions of his Travels, which appeared in 1634 and 1638, is extremely meagre and imperfect.[25] He says it was built by ‘Sosarinus, who lived in the Median dynasty, the third Emperor from Arbaces, who gave end to Sardanapalus.’[26] It flourished for two hundred and thirty years till destroyed by Alexander. He does not believe that Shiraz was ever a part of Persepolis, thirty miles distant, though the one may have risen out of the other. He remarks that the ‘whole basis’ or platform ‘is cut by incredible toyle out of the solid marble rock twice the compasse of Wyndsor Castle.’ It is approached by ‘ninety-five easie staires, dissected from the durable black marble,’ ‘so broad that a dozen horsemen may ride up abreast together.’ The total ascent, however, is not more than twenty-two feet, and at the summit is a gate ‘engraven with a mightie elephant on one side and a Rhynoceros on the other.’ These majestic figures are thirty feet high; and a little beyond are two other piers ‘wherein is engraven a Pegasus.’ Between them he noticed two columns, and was consequently more accurate than Don Garcia. ‘Of like work, bulk and matter are two gallant Towers.’ The gate leads to the famous Columns, of which only nineteen now remain standing, and one other below in the plain. ‘Howbeit the ruines and ground of four score more are yet visible: this great roome was the Hall.’ He at first estimated the height of the columns at ‘fifteen foote,’ but later (1638) he modified this to from fifteen to twenty cubits. And they ‘rise beautifully in forty squares or concave parallels; every square has three full inches.’ ‘Adjoining is another square roome whose blacke marble wals are yet abiding.’ It has eight doors ‘exquisitely engraven with images of Lions, Tygres, Griffons and Buls of rare sculpture and perfection: a top of each door is the image of an Emperour in state with staffe and scepter.’ Elsewhere he amplifies this account. ‘In other places (for the wals are durable) Battailes, Hecatombs, triumphs, Olympick games, and the like, in very rare sculpture and proportion.’ The country people gave different accounts as to whom this figure was intended to represent, and they variously proposed Jamsheat, Aaron, Sampson and Solomon, but they excluded Rustam. This room measured ‘ninety paces from angle to angle, in circuit three hundred and sixty paces, beautified with eight dores,’ and joining it were two smaller apartments, one seventy by sixty, the other thirty by twenty paces. He was told that the first was the Chamber of the Queen and the other the nursery. He was particularly struck by the appearance of the latter. ‘The wals are,’ he says, ‘rarely engraven with images of huge stature, and have been illustrated with gold which in some places is visible, the stones in many parts so well polisht that they equal for brightnesse a steele mirrour.’ He was at a loss to assign this wonderful building to any of the known styles of architecture: ‘whether this Fabrick was Ionick Dorick or Corinthiack I cannot determine, but such to this day it is that a ready Lymmer in three moneths space can hardly (to do it well) depict out all her excellencies.’

He also noticed the tomb mentioned by Don Garcia. It lies, he says, ‘somewhat further, over heaps of stones of valewable portraictures.’ ‘It is cut out of the perpendicular mountaine,’ and represents ‘the image of a King (which may be Cambyses) adoring three deities, the fire, the sunne and a serpent.’ He also mentions ‘Nasci Rustam,’ the monument of Rustam, situated, he says, five miles west of Persepolis.[27]

Herbert gives an engraving of the ruins, which is the first general view ever taken of Persepolis in modern times. It only occupies a portion of a small folio page, and it is scarcely possible to imagine any drawing more inaccurate and grotesque. We ascend to the platform by a series of about fourteen steps leaning straight up against it, at right angles to the line of the terrace. At the summit there is not a trace of the Porch, but we pass through a narrow opening with posts on either side. On the top of one of these appears an elephant with its proboscis stretched out in a menacing attitude. On the top of the other post we observe an unpleasant creature leaning forward, possibly intended for a tiger. When we have made our way through these inhospitable guardians and gained the platform, we find the whole of it on the left-hand side occupied by columns. Facing the entrance, at some distance from it, we see three doors and the high wall of a roofless building, and behind it a lofty and ragged mountain. Behind the columns on the left at a great elevation we observe a kneeling figure, worshipping a serpent coiling round a cross, and beyond, an altar on which fire is burning. To the right, on the same level, we observe a human-headed centipede. This misleading picture is reproduced evidently from the same plate in the second edition of 1638. It was not till the appearance of the second edition that he thought it worth while to notice the existence of the cuneiform letters. ‘In part of this great roome,’ he says, referring to the Palace of Darius ‘(not farre from the portall) in a mirrour of polisht marble wee noted above a dozen lynes of strange characters, very faire and apparent to the eye, but so mysticall, so odly framed as no Hieroglyphick no other deep conceit can be more difficultly fancied, more adverse to the intellect. These consisting of figures, obelisk, triangular and pyramidall yet in such simmetry and order as cannot well be called barbarous. Some resemblance, I thought some words had of the Antick Greek shadowing out Ahashuerus Theos. And though it have small concordance with the Hebrew, Greek and Latine letter, yet questionlesse to the Inventer it was well knowne and peradventure may conceale some excellent matter though to this day wrapt up in the dim leafes of envious obscuritie.’[28]

The letter of Don Garcia had appeared in Purchas the year before Herbert sailed for India, and it is obvious he had it before him when he wrote his own account. Indeed he refers to Don Garcia, though he does not acknowledge his own obligations to him. Don Garcia in his letter did not mention the sculptured stairs, one of the most remarkable features of the ruin; Herbert has likewise passed it over in silence. Don Garcia remarked that it was possible to ride up the stairs to the platform. Herbert adds that twelve horsemen might ride abreast; forty years later he recollected that he had actually witnessed this feat accomplished. Both writers express doubts in nearly the same language as to the style of the architecture; they both compare the cuneiform letters to ‘pyramids’ and ‘obelisks,’ and they both note their dissimilarity to Hebrew, Greek and Latin. Herbert had, however, the merit of giving the earliest published account of the Palace of Darius.[29] His description of the animals on the gate and his measurements are also wholly his own.

Having spent two days at Persepolis, he followed the mission to Asheraff, on the Caspian, where Shah Abbas was holding his Court. The result was extremely disappointing. The Shah indeed received Sir Dormer Cotton with his usual courtesy, and declared his continued friendship for Sir Robert Shirley. He acknowledged the services Shirley had rendered, and protested his willingness to punish his traducer, if that miscreant had not unfortunately escaped his vengeance by death. But the Shah was then an old man, and he appears to have fallen under the influence of a favourite Minister. This functionary interposed so successfully that the Ambassador could never obtain a second interview, and, after considerable delay, the courtier assured him that he had the royal authority to declare that the credentials of Sir Robert Shirley were fictitious. This startling communication was certainly false, and no doubt it originated with the Minister himself; but it was no less decisive of the matter. Overcome by disappointment, both Sir Dormer and Shirley fell ill and died shortly afterwards. Herbert continued his journey, and after visiting Babylon, returned to Surat, on his way home.

The account he gave of the ruins to his friends excited considerable interest, which was stimulated by the publication of two editions of his Travels. He often expressed his regret that adequate drawings were not made by a competent artist before the monument was irrevocably destroyed: ‘The barbarous people every day defacing it and cleaving it asunder for grave stones and benches to sit upon.’ The result of these representations was that Lord Arundel sent out a young artist for the express purpose, who unfortunately died before he reached his destination. It seems indeed that the ruins were for a time really exposed to considerable danger. In consequence of the writings of Della Valle and Herbert, they were visited by so many foreigners of distinction that the Governors of Shiraz found their revenues seriously taxed by the obligations of hospitality. Several, it was said, were ruined, and at length one of the Governors made a deliberate attempt to destroy the cause of so much inconvenience. But the solidity of the structure offered serious obstacles to the execution of this design.

Meanwhile Persia was beginning to attract more general attention, and in 1637 it was visited by a German named Oelschloeger, more euphemistically styled Olearus. His ‘Beschreibung’ was first published at Schleswig in 1647, and a revised edition appeared in 1656.[30] It is a magnificent folio in black-letter, richly adorned with a profusion of excellent engravings and a number of maps. The book was translated into Dutch in 1651, into French in 1656, and into English in 1666. Olearus was born in Anhalt in the first year of the century, and entered the service of the Duke of Holstein-Gottorp. The Duke had recently founded the town of Friederichstadt, and he desired to open a trade with Persia by way of Russia. He accordingly sent a commission to Moscow and Persia to negotiate the business, and Olearus was attached to it as secretary.[31] They left Gottrop in October 1635, but it was not till the end of March 1636 that they even reached Moscow. They continued their journey in the end of May, and arrived at Ispahan in April of the following year (1637). Shah Abbas had died in 1629, but they were well received by his successor, Shah Sefy, and the usual interchange of presents followed. One of the Ambassadors, a merchant named Brugman, displayed very undiplomatic conduct, and the embassy failed in its purpose. It accomplished the return journey somewhat more rapidly, in about a year and a half (December 21, 1637, to August 1, 1639). Olearus did not visit Persepolis himself, but a member of the mission, the ‘hochedel gebornen’ Mandelslo, proceeded to India by the well-known route to Ormuz and passed the ruins. Olearus devoted himself to Persian studies, and translated ‘Gulistan.’ But his chief service is the excellent edition he published of the travels of Mandelslo, which he enriched by copious notes of his own taken from various sources.[32] We learn from this work that, on his way from Ispahan to the coast, in 1638, Mandelslo came to a large village called Meshid Maderre Soliman, which, he said, derived its name from a tomb half a mile distant. It was explained to him by the Carmelites of Shiraz that no doubt it was the resting place of the mother of the great Shah Solimans, though the popular opinion in the neighbourhood was that it was the tomb of Solomon himself. He gives an excellent description of the chapel of white marble resting upon successive tiers of square blocks of hewn stone; and adds that in his day there might still be seen within the chapel strange letters in unknown characters engraved upon the walls. These, however, were afterwards ascertained to be merely verses from the Koran, written in Arabic. He has given a drawing of it, which conveys a fair impression of its appearance, and is curious as the earliest known representation of the tomb of Cyrus. Continuing to the south, he reached Persepolis. He heard many fabulous accounts of its origin, some ascribing it to Tzemschied Padschach, others to Solomon, and some even to Darius; but his informants were clear that it had been destroyed by ‘Iskander as they call Alexander.’ The ascent is made by four stairs with ninety-five marble steps. On reaching the summit he found the remains of four walls, apparently designed for gates. On the two first were horses carved in stone, with curious head-stalls and saddles. On the other two the horses have lion heads and are adorned with crowns and wings. He also, like Herbert, entirely omits to mention the sculptured stairs, and passes direct from the gates to the describe the columns. He found nineteen standing, and eleven others partly ruined, but no doubt the original number was forty. He could not decide whether the building had been roofed. Passing on, a slight ascent brought him to two moderate-sized chambers, of which the door and window posts remained as well as the walls, the latter remarkable for their beautiful shining marble. On the sides of the doors he observed figures larger than life, some sitting and others standing. They wore long beards and their hair descended to the shoulder, while their robes extended to the feet. Not far distant are other chambers, but of these nothing remains except the door and window frames. ‘Not far from these rooms,’ he continues, ‘is a square column in which is a polished stone, some say of jasper, in which are engraved singular characters or writing, which no one can read. They seem as if they had been inlaid with gold.’ The rest of the platform is beautiful and level, and measures about 300 by 200 paces. Mandelslo has illustrated his description by an engraving that scarcely does justice to the text. After the statement that the platform was reached by four stairs, we were not prepared to find in the illustration a single row of steps leading straight up at right angles. The translator, Davies, seems to have thought that by the four stairs were meant a single flight at each corner of the platform. The four ‘walls’ of the Porch appear as a series of detached stones placed in a row, one after the other, along the western line of the terrace. The animals are cut out of the front of each stone, but they have no appearance of supporting any portion of the structure. Beyond, at some distance to the east, is a small square building, having on one side the slab with the inscription. There is no indication whatever of the sculptured terrace, which is indeed wholly forgotten in the text. The columns, however, at length appear for the first time in the true direction to the right of the entrance. From them an immense wall extends right across the platform to the east. It is pierced below by one large and three other smaller doors. Above, apparently belonging to a second story, are a series of seven or eight double windows, while still higher we observe several figures of men and animals. This great structure obscures the view of the tombs on the hill, and they are not mentioned in the text. Olearus, in his notes, refers to Barbaro, and, at second hand, to Don Garcia. But his chief reference is to Herbert, from whom he quotes the whole of the account given in the earlier editions of the Travels.

Mandelslo’s book was translated into English by John Davies, and it appeared in 1662, four years after its original publication; but the illustrations were not reproduced.[33] The translator has adopted the very singular method of incorporating with the text the notes that Olearus added from other writers. Mandelslo is thus made to appear as if he had quietly appropriated without acknowledgment the observations made by Barbaro, Don Garcia, and Herbert. The translator is, however, wholly responsible for this peculiar result. At the time Olearus issued his edition (1658) the text, taken together with the notes, probably resumed all that was then known concerning Persepolis and the cuneiform letters; and the translator made no independent additions.[34] But in the same year (1658) the third volume of Della Valle’s Travels was at length published, in which he gives the account of his visit to the ruins. His fame soon became well known in England, and a translation of his Travels to India appeared in 1665, along with those of Sir Thomas Roe.

Nearly thirty years had now elapsed since the last edition of Sir Thomas Herbert’s book was published (1638). He was still living, and no doubt he became sensible of the deficiency of his own account of Persepolis in comparison with that of Della Valle. It appears also that a Mr. Skinner had recently returned from Persia, with whom Herbert had the advantage of conversing. He had, moreover, preserved ‘the mixt notes’ he took at the time of his visit, nearly forty years before, and with a memory thus refreshed he sat down to compose a greatly enlarged account of the famous ruins.[35] He also gave instructions to the engraver Holler to execute an entirely new design of the place, which was accomplished in 1663. The view is still characterised by the most surprising inaccuracy. It is upon a much larger scale, and is a far more pretentious work than its predecessor. We now ascend to the platform by a double staircase parallel to the line of the terrace, but it is still erroneously represented projecting prominently from beyond it. At the summit we observe the four animals and the two columns of the Porch. There is, however, no trace of the walls the animals supported. In front are an elephant on one side and a rhinoceros on the other, having ‘visages with beards and long hair like men, agreeable to that fourth beast which Daniel looked upon.’ One of the other animals is ‘like unto a Pegasus,’ ‘trapped with warlike mail’; but the fourth ‘is so disfigured that it cannot be described.’ Turning to the right, we see at the edge of the terrace a tombstone of the usual pattern, engraved apparently with cuneiform letters. It stands entirely by itself, and is no doubt the jasper or marble table referred to in the text. Beyond it, upon the same level, are a large number of columns and the ruins of many others are to be seen strewn upon the ground. He tells us ‘there be but 19 pillars at this day extant, yet the fractures and bases of 21 more are perspicable.’ ‘It is evident,’ however, he continues, ‘there were in all a hundred pillars when the place was in perfection, as appears by the vacant spaces and also bases ... which are yet visible.’ The entire centre of the picture is occupied by a raised platform, no less than thirty feet above the level of the porch and columns. It is approached by a double staircase constructed in precisely the same manner as the first. The north wall of this elevated terrace stretches across, west to east, from the columns below to the hill that bounds the platform on the east, and it is completely covered from end to end with bas-reliefs. This sculptured wall was entirely forgotten by Herbert in his earlier editions, and it is now described elaborately, the description being evidently borrowed from Della Valle, a few errors being introduced, possibly from the ‘mixt notes.’ Having ascended to this elevated terrace, we come to a huge two-storied building, open at the top, resembling a modern factory gutted by a fire. It is divided into three compartments, and is represented as occupying the whole western side of the platform. Both within and without, from top to bottom, we observe the walls are entirely covered with bas-reliefs. On turning to the text for an explanation, we find, however, that the building still possesses its former modest dimensions; but ‘the walls and broken arches were wrought or pourtrayed with figures resembling some great persons on horseback, after whom proceed several others in sacerdotal habits.’ He has still a clear recollection of the ‘gold that was laid upon the Freez and Cornish, as also upon the trim of Vests.’ Turning away from this wonderful building, we observe a small ruin in the north-east corner, standing like the one just described upon the upper platform. This corresponds in position to that occupied by the Hall of the Hundred Columns, and the description he gives of it is one of the most singular portions of his narrative. He came, he says, to a large square room, where he observed bas-reliefs of a great person, and ‘sundry petitioners, but in several habits, as men of several nations,’ besides guards armed with spears. Near this he penetrated into a vault, ‘flagged at the bottome with square marble stones,’ which led him into a ‘fair room or chappel,’ ‘supported by four pillars 4 yards about, 8 in heighth and 4 yards from each other.’ He found the entrance elaborately sculptured with the figures of men, apparently priests, with uplifted hands. By another subterranean passage he reached a second chapel, also supported by four pillars seven yards high. Upon the arch is a man of colossal size with a lion couchant at his feet. Near him a king seated on a chair of state and on either side two rows of flamens. A few paces thence he beheld two giants, who by pure force subjugate two lions, and not far off a great prince, holding a sceptre or Pastoral Staff. On one side of him stand the Satraps, and on the other the Magi or priests. Opposite is a prisoner in chains, who he conjectures may be Daniel or Croesus. Beneath are six ranks of guards carrying spikes. Such is the first detailed account we have of the Hall of the Hundred Columns, and the elaborate sculptures with which it is adorned. It is remarkable that the accumulation of rubbish should have been so great that Herbert says ‘’tis presumed that the greatest part of the pile was vaulted underground’; and that, according as he burrowed laboriously through the _débris_, each of its great doors should appear to him like vaulted chapels.[36]

The hill that overhangs the platform on the south-east is shown by the drawing to be covered by a wonderful work of art. Four rows of figures support a stage whereon we observe a kneeling figure; but the serpent is now seen grovelling upon the ground, and the centipede of the earlier edition has developed into ‘a demon of as uncouth and ugly a shape as well could be imagined.’ ‘It is of a gigantic size ... discovering a most dreadful visage twixt man and beast. This monster has seven several arms.’ He now treats us to three lines of inscriptions ‘for better demonstration, which nevertheless whiles they cannot be read, will in all probability like the Mene Tekel without the help of a Daniel hardly be interpreted.’ He agrees with Della Valle that each character might represent a word—or at least a syllable. He also agrees with the same authority that the writing ran from left to right, but in the sample he gives us, two or three characters are placed upside down which, if they had fallen under Della Valle’s notice in that position would have entirely upset his argument from their ‘posture and tendency.’ Herbert compared the characters with ‘twelve several alphabets in Postellus and with the fifty-eight alphabets which Purchas had borrowed from the learned Gromex,’ but he could not perceive the least resemblance. They are, he says, ‘like Pyramids inverted, or with bases upwards, or like Triangles or Deltas.’ He, however, recommends the study to ‘ingenious persons who delight themselves in this dark and difficult art or exercise of Deciphering.’ The language must have been known to Daniel, who was probably the architect of this palace as of ‘Shushan and Ecbatan’; for we know that he was a ‘civil officer’ under ‘Nebuchadnezzar, Belshazzar, Astyages, Darius and Cyrus.’

During the remainder of the century we are chiefly indebted to French travellers for the gradual accumulation of more correct information upon this subject, and it was greatly to their advantage that they could always depend upon a hospitable welcome and much store of information from the friendly Superior of the Capuchins at Ispahan. When Persia was first rendered accessible to Europeans by the liberal policy of Shah Abbas, numerous missionaries flocked to the capital in the hope of winning converts to the Roman faith. We have already seen that the Augustinian Friars who arrived with Gouvea were awarded a disused palace as a monastery. They were followed, in 1608, by Carmelites from Rome. In 1627, Father Pacifique, of the French Order of Capuchins, obtained permission to establish missions at Ispahan and Bagdad; and during the second half of the seventeenth century their house became a resort of the principal European travellers. The rule of Père Raphael du Mans covered the whole of that period. He is first heard of at Ispahan, in 1644, where he remained as Superior of the Order till his death, in 1696, at the age of eighty-three. Not long after the settlement of the Capuchins, the Jesuits also made a similar attempt, but without much success; they were, however, given permission to open schools at Tauriz and a few other places in the south of Persia. It must be recollected that the object of these religious persons was not so much the conversion of Mahomedans—an attempt which when discovered was always rigorously punished—as the extension of the Roman sway over the Georgian and other native Christians. Resident agents of the Dutch and English East India Companies had also long been settled in the country. The Shah presented them with handsome residences at Ispahan and Shiraz; and they had permanent establishments at Bunder Abbas. The French still remained at a great disadvantage. Their first East India Company was formed in 1604, but for more than thirty years it did not fit out a single ship. At length its term of privilege expired without its ever having been exercised (1635), and a merchant of Dieppe despatched a vessel on his own account. A small Company was eventually formed and an attempt made to found a trading colony at Madagascar in imitation of those possessed by the English and Dutch at Bombay and Ceylon (1643); but no result followed and its privileges likewise lapsed. In 1664 another effort was made, and three agents were sent to Persia to reside at Ispahan, Shiraz, and Bunder Abbas, while two envoys were accredited to the Court. These efforts were, however, productive of little result, and were chiefly felt by the enmity they excited among the Dutch against the eminent French travellers who are now to engage our attention.

The names of Tavernier, Daulier Deslandes and Thévenot fill the latter half of the seventeenth century. Tavernier enjoyed an exceptional reputation as a traveller and merchant throughout the whole of that period. He was born at Paris, in 1605, of a Protestant family, and began his wanderings at the early age of fifteen. At first he followed the profession of a soldier of fortune, but he soon exchanged that precarious calling for the more lucrative pursuit of a travelling jeweller. He visited the East altogether six times between the years 1632 and 1668. His chief dealings were with the Shah of Persia, but he also extended his travels to India, and he was the first Frenchman to visit the Court of the Great Mogul. He brought back jewels from the mines of Golconda and from the pearl fisheries of the Persian Gulf, and after having them polished and set in Paris, he sold them at greatly enhanced prices to Indian princes and to the Shah of Persia. He was the first to reveal the riches of the East to his countrymen, and he enjoyed the favour of Louis XIV., from whom he received a patent of nobility. It was on the occasion of his sixth and last journey to Persia, in 1664, that he was accompanied by Daulier Deslandes, a young artist who was included among his eight ‘serviteurs,’ and who passed the year with him.[37] Although travelling together in this manner for the sake of convenience, Daulier was in fact charged with a special mission on behalf of the French merchant company.[38] The two travellers left Ispahan in 1665 on their way to Bunder Abbas, and they seem on that occasion to have visited Persepolis together. Some days later they overtook M. de Thévenot at Bihry, in Lars (March 26) and the whole party proceeded to the coast. Tavernier went on to India, but Daulier and Thévenot returned to Persepolis (May 1665), and it was probably during this second visit that Daulier found time to make his investigations.[39] He published the account of his travels in 1673, and among the illustrations that adorn his book there is one of Persepolis or, as it is called, Tchelminar.[40] The engraving is vastly superior to anything that had yet appeared: indeed the fanciful and erroneous pictures given by Herbert and Mandelslo do not deserve to be put in comparison with it. We now for the first time obtain some idea of the real appearance of the ruins. The view is taken from the west, and shows correctly the peculiar features of the stairs, sunk into the wall of the terrace, and ascending in double flights parallel to it. We observe also the remarkable indentations in the formation of the platform, which Della Valle thought were designed for its defence. The four walls of the Porch, separated by the two columns, are intelligibly drawn, though their height is inadequate and the animals do not stand out with sufficient boldness. The fourfold ascent by single flights to the upper platform is clearly shown; and for the first time we find the Columnar Edifice of Xerxes correctly placed above. The still more elevated position of the Palace of Darius is plainly marked and its ruins fairly represented. The absurd appearance it presented in the drawings of Herbert and Mandelslo now finally disappears, and we obtain something like a correct view of the southern portion of the platform. Beyond the door and window frames of the Palace of Darius we observe to the south-east the ruins of the somewhat similar edifice of Xerxes. The latter is depicted upon a much higher elevation, and the western staircase leading to it comes too prominently into view. The east side of the platform is still indistinct. The Central Edifice and the Hall of the Hundred Columns are somewhat confused: the latter edifice appears erroneously placed upon the central platform. No adequate representation of the Tombs upon the hill is attempted. The description that accompanies the plate evinces much accurate observation. He treats the platform as divided into three different elevations, and in many places he observed that the rock itself was the foundation of the edifice. The first animal he met on the porch resembles an elephant; the others, looking east, have wings. Strangely enough he dismisses the sculptured stairs with a mere passing notice. He merely observes that the Columnar Edifice is reached by two single flights ‘whose sides are ornamented by bas-reliefs.’ Following Della Valle, he correctly divides the columns into a central group of thirty-six and porticoes on the three sides; but he was wrong in conjecturing that the front row consisted of only eight columns in two rows of four, and in supposing that they were intended to support idols. Only nineteen were then standing, but there were two in the Porch, and another in the plain five hundred paces from the platform. He noticed two others at a distance of three leagues ‘to the left.’ He observed that the columns of the central group have a double capital resembling those in the Porch, and have round bases. From this great ruin he ascended ten or twelve steps to the remains of some chambers, evidently the Palace of Darius. In front, he ‘saw the vestiges of several small columns,’ the first reference we have to the ruins of the Palace of Ochus. Turning towards the mountain, he came upon other chambers, apparently the Palace of Xerxes from the description of the steps descending abruptly to a lower platform. He also notes ‘a fine building with bas-reliefs,’ possibly the Hall of the Hundred Columns. He mentions the two sepulchres, where he observed a man with a bow sacrificing to an idol which resembles a satyr. He was unable to visit Naksh-i-Rustam. He was greatly impressed by the general effect produced by these ruins, and he considered them ‘one of the finest remains of antiquity.’ He dwelt especially upon the immense number of bas-reliefs; he estimated that there were at least two thousand, many of them only showing their heads above ground. In addition to the general view, he has drawn a few of the bas-reliefs, among others that of the man sacrificing to the satyr. Others represent the personage beneath the parasol, or fighting the lion. These sketches are insignificant in size and execution, but they are a great advance upon the preposterous attempts of his predecessors. He shows an inscription round an arch, but it is of a purely imaginative character; and he merely records the existence of letters ‘which no one can read,’ many of which, he adds, were gilt. He adopted the opinion of Père Raphael that the edifice was a Temple and erected by Assuerus, though he tells us that others maintain that it was the Palace of Darius.

A year after the publication of the ‘Beautés de la Perse’ a much more prosaic narrative appeared (1674), written by Daulier’s travelling companion, M. de Thévenot.[41] De Thévenot was born at Paris, in 1633. He found himself at an early age in possession of independent means, and he began his travels at nineteen. He first visited England, which seems to have been then regarded as the training ground where the traveller might be inured to the perils of foreign adventure (1652). He subsequently visited Holland and Germany, and he spent a few years in Italy. He had the advantage of meeting M. d’Herbelot at Rome, who afterwards gained a great reputation as a linguist and Orientalist. It may have been the incentive communicated from this source that determined Thévenot to visit the East and to devote himself to the acquisition of Eastern languages. The two friends planned a journey together, but at the last moment d’Herbelot was prevented from leaving. Thévenot left Rome in 1655, at the mature age of twenty-two, and passed a considerable time visiting the islands of the Mediterranean, Turkey, the Levant and Egypt.[42] After an absence of seven years, he returned to Paris and published an account of his journey, which appeared in 1664, in two volumes. He had taken pains to acquire several Oriental languages, Turkish, Arabic and Persian, and while staying in Paris, he devoted himself to the study of such sciences as were then within reach. The proof-sheets of his book were scarcely dry when he left for Persia (October 1663). His route lay by Aleppo to Mosul, which he reached about the end of July 1664. From thence he dropped down the Tigris to Bagdad, and struck across by Hamadan to Ispahan, where he arrived in October.[43] Here he remained the guest of Père Raphael till February 1665, when he took the opportunity of going to Bunder Abbas in the suite of Tavernier. The larger portion of the baggage mules were employed in carrying the merchandise of that enterprising traveller to the coast; but it does not appear that he himself joined the party till they were far on the road. They arrived at Bunder together, and here Thévenot was destined to meet with a severe disappointment. The French were at that time making an attempt to revive their East India Company, a step that roused the jealousy of the Dutch to such an extent that they positively refused to give him a passage. They wished to preserve the secrets of the trade entirely to themselves, and Thévenot feared that even if he were received on board, their patriotism might go to the length of imperilling his life.[44] At Bunder Abbas itself, where the Dutch had recently become completely the masters, he scarcely found himself safe. The only person he could trust was the agent of the English Company, who took him under his protection and gave out that he was an Englishman. He was compelled, therefore, to return to Shiraz, and it was on this occasion that he enjoyed the companionship of Daulier Deslandes. They visited the ruins of Persepolis, and Thévenot made copious notes of his impressions. In the autumn he made his way to Bassora, where he found a passage to India on board an Armenian vessel. He seems to have returned in the spring of 1667 in company with Tavernier.[45] On their way from Bunder Abbas they once more visited Persepolis, and upon this occasion they found Chardin there. Thus by a singular accident the three great travellers stood together among the historic ruins.[46] Thévenot died soon afterwards, at the early age of thirty-four, at Maiana, the ancient Atropatena, thirty leagues from Tauris (November 1667). Two volumes of his Travels, up to the time of his arrival at Surat, were published in 1674, and a third, on India, in 1684. A complete edition appeared in five volumes in 1689. Numerous others followed, and before the end of the century the work had been translated into English, Dutch and German.

It cannot be said that Thévenot’s description of Persepolis contributed much to the elucidation of the plan of the building. He, however, gives an accurate though somewhat complicated description of the double staircase. He explains for the first time the position of the animals on the pilasters of the Porch—their heads facing the front, and their half bodies in demi-ronde adorning the inside of the passage. He thought they were cut out of a single block, those facing the stairs representing elephants and the others griffins. He gives a fair account of the sculptured wall, which previous travellers had so frequently overlooked. He describes the projection in the centre, with a single stair at either end, and the single flights at each end of the terrace. They are, he says, almost entirely buried beneath rubbish, which may perhaps account for their having so frequently escaped observation. ‘Nevertheless one sees several figures on that portion of the wall of the terrace which is above ground.’ He noticed the combat—a lion and bull—and the three rows of bas-reliefs, representing, as he thought, a sacrifice or a triumph. He observed the various arms of the men, and the different animals, the sheep, oxen and dromedary, that figure in the procession. He conducts the reader up the stairs to the platform strewn with columns, some buried, some broken, and others marked only by their bases. Seventeen were then standing, and he conjectured that there were originally twelve rows of nine in each. He remarked the strange style of the capitals, and fancied they had been surmounted by statues, or perhaps by idols. He proceeds to the square building beyond, where he beheld ‘an old man followed by two valets,’ one holding a parasol and the other a crozier. But at this point his narrative becomes confused and we follow him with difficulty. In his description of the eastern part of the platform, however, he enumerates six distinct buildings, which appear to be formed by the ruins of the Great Hall of the Hundred Columns and those of the Central Edifice united. Although the description of the arrangement of these buildings is hopelessly confused, we obtain for the first time an adequate account of the remarkable bas-reliefs found among them. He describes the personage seated upon a chair of state, a staff or sceptre in his hand, while beneath him are three rows of figures, one over the other, with uplifted arms, supporting those above. The winged figure is, he says, an idol seated upon an arc, with the body passed through a ring. He found another similar piece of sculpture with three rows of figures among these ruins, and he also mentions the great bas-relief in the north door of the Hall, where the seated personage is elevated above five rows of figures, but he failed to notice that these were guards.[47] He divides the edifices on the platform into three rows of buildings one behind the other from west to east, the first two ‘rows’ containing, he says, each four buildings and the third five, of which the third is the largest, and we thus arrive at the thirteen buildings in all. His description of the Tombs is more intelligible. They resemble, he says, the façade of a temple cut into the rock. Below are four columns with capitals representing the head and throat of an ox. In the centre is the entrance to the tombs. They support an architrave approaching to Doric in style, and ornamented by lions. Above are two rows of arcades composed of human figures about two feet in height. Over them, in the centre, is an idol, resembling a winged man. On the right is a person praying, and to the left a pedestal surmounted by a globe. At either end is a portion of a round column with the head of a bull, and below, on each side of the second row are two men, one over the other, armed with pikes. It was impossible to gain access to this tomb, for it was full of water, but on entering the other to the south of it he found three sepulchres cut into the rock like the basins of a fountain. In the centre of the cave is a slab that appears to cover a tomb. Beyond the platform, to the south, he observed a single column still standing, and to the north the ruins of a porch. On his way to Naksh-i-Rustam, he observed on his right hand another column standing. He was inclined to believe that Chehel Minar had been a temple, for it is evident the buildings have never been roofed, and the site itself was not large enough for a palace.[48] Finally, he apologises for the confusion in which part of his narrative is involved, and protests, probably with truth, that if he had added anything more to his description he might only have increased its obscurity.

Two years later, Tavernier added his contribution to the subject[49] (1676). Although he seems, as we have said, to have visited Persepolis along with Daulier, in March 1665, yet he was evidently but little influenced by his opinion. He had seen the ruins several times, and his judgment on the subject had been no doubt already formed. He tells us that on the occasion of one of his visits he was accompanied by an artist named Angel, a Dutchman, who, it appears, was commissioned by Abbas II. to make drawings of the ruins; and the estimates they formed are in striking contrast to those of Daulier. Tavernier was too much concerned with practical affairs to be greatly interested in antiquarian research; and his eye, trained to dwell on the minute beauty of the precious stones, saw little to admire in colossal mounds of chiselled marble. Nor was the prosaic Dutchman who accompanied him more susceptible to this form of beauty. Angel spent eight days in making drawings of the various ruins, and in the end expressed regret that he had wasted so much of his time. As for Tavernier, he declared he did not consider them worth the labour of a quarter of an hour. The bas-reliefs seemed to him to be wretchedly executed, and he could only recollect to have counted twelve columns.

Shortly afterwards there appeared a book by Jean Struys, a Dutchman, whom Sir W. Ouseley rightly styles ‘the lying traveller.’[50] In it there is an engraving of what is called the ‘Tomb of Persepolis,’ which is such a grotesque misrepresentation that we can scarcely believe even Struys responsible for the vagaries of the artist he employed. He observed that the number of columns had been reduced to eighteen, and he estimated their height at thirty-eight feet. He was especially struck by the beauty of the staircase; and he was the first to make the correct suggestion that the animals guarding the porch were lions. He noted the numerous bas-reliefs whose beauty had not yet been effaced by time; but he fancied he saw battle scenes depicted among them. He thought the cuneiform ‘characters strangely resembled the Arabian, though no one has yet been able to decipher them.’[51]

An agent of the East India Company, Mr. S. Flower, made a collection of various inscriptions, and among others of ‘one consisting of two lines in the nail character, or pyramidal shape, such as is impressed on some bricks lately found in the neighbouring countries.’ These appeared in the ‘Philosophical Transactions’ of 1693, and were reproduced by Dr. Hyde, who, quoting Flower, says that the characters are not found except at Persepolis, though some missionaries say they are known and in use in Egypt. He adds that they appear to be written from left to right. The inscription as copied in Hyde is punctuated after each letter,[52] and exhibits a miscellaneous collection of characters selected from the three descriptions of writing.

From what has been said it will be seen that down to the end of the seventeenth century, or a hundred years after the visit of Gouvea to Persepolis, the chief authorities upon the subject were still Don Garcia and Della Valle. Herbert perhaps enjoyed a wider popularity, but so far as his account was correct he depended chiefly upon other writers. The description given by Mandelslo and Daulier added little to the knowledge already acquired. Mere verbal descriptions, however, even by the most graphic writer, could never convey so vivid an impression to the mind as a pictorial representation. The drawings made by Don Garcia were not reproduced by his translators, and if they enriched the original Spanish edition, that work is so little known, that it has not even yet found its way to the British Museum. The drawings of Della Valle had not then[53] and, we believe, have never since been published. Mandelslo gave a tolerable drawing of the tomb at Murgab; but his view of Persepolis is little better than the plates in the earlier editions of Herbert. The English translator omitted them, and it is little likely that a book written in German and published in the remote town of Schleswig ever enjoyed a wide circulation. The engraving given by Herbert, even in his latest edition, is still grossly incorrect. It was executed by an artist who had never visited the spot, and Herbert was himself entirely unable to convey a true idea of the appearance and position of the different ruins. Daulier Deslandes at length made a great advance upon all his predecessors, and placed the student in a position to form a tolerable conception of the general aspect of the buildings.

Still less progress had yet been made towards the reproduction of the cuneiform letters. Della Valle had given five of the characters in the Italian edition of his Travels, but his French translators omitted them. Herbert contributed three lines; Daulier gave a short inscription taken from an arch; and Flower had quite recently increased the available material by two lines. They were all very imperfectly copied, but it was known that large numbers of similar inscriptions appeared in various parts of the ruins. Dr. Hyde, the learned Orientalist, concluded that they were not letters at all, but simply designed as ornamentation. He entirely repudiated the suggestion, which was already current, that they had any resemblance to Chinese.[54] He went so far as to upbraid the artist for having been the cause of so much torment to critics and men of learning. The whole matter was, he declared, beneath his notice, and he would not have alluded to it if he had not feared that his silence might be misconstrued.[55]

This opinion was occasionally repeated both in France and Germany down to the close of the eighteenth century. Early in that century, however, the materials for forming a more accurate judgment began rapidly to accumulate. The three travellers Chardin, Kaempfer and Le Bruyn all made important contributions to the subject. Chardin was the son of a rich jeweller in Paris, and early in life he was sent on business to Persia and India. On his return in 1681 he settled in England and was knighted by Charles II., who afterwards sent him to Holland as his ambassador. Chardin’s three visits to Persepolis were made as far back as 1666, 1667 and 1674, but his account of it did not appear till 1711. It was published at the same time in two different forms: in three volumes quarto and in ten volumes duodecimo, but with the same text and plates. This edition was somewhat expurgated to avoid giving offence to the Catholics, but another came out in 1735, which included the suppressed passages. Chardin died in London in January 1713, two years after the publication of the complete edition of his Travels, but before he had time to finish the most cherished work of his life, which was a Commentary on the Bible, based upon his knowledge of Oriental customs. It is said he was assisted in the composition of his works by Charpentier, a Member of the French Academy, and the magnificent drawings, twenty-three in number, made of Persepolis, are the work of M. Grélot, whom he brought with him for the purpose.[56] They convey a most admirable impression, and the student can for the first time realise the splendour of the ruins: which he could never have grasped from the confused description of travellers.

They include two general views upon a large scale. In the first a few inaccuracies detract somewhat from its value. We observe birds of a highly imaginative design perched upon the columns of the Porch; but whether they are designed to represent portions of the capital, or merely temporary visitors, does not appear. The sculptured stairs are incorrectly represented, showing only a single ascent, and without the projecting flight in the centre—a deficiency removed in the description given in the text. The columns are massed too closely together; the Palace of Darius is placed on the south-west extremity of the platform, in the position that should be left vacant for the Palace of Ochus; and the stairs appear on the north instead of on the south side of the Palace. On the other hand, we find the Hall of the Hundred Columns correctly placed for the first time on the same elevation as the Porch. The second view is more valuable. It is taken from about the same place as Niebuhr subsequently selected. The eye first rests upon the Hall of the Hundred Columns with the cistern and entrance porch to the right. Looking southwards, the Columnar Edifice is seen to occupy a prominent position, and beyond it lies the Palace of Darius, standing upon its own terrace, but, by an unaccountable error, with the façade turned to the east instead of the south. It appears unduly cramped between the columns and the Palace of Xerxes, which rises upon its terrace at an apparent elevation considerably higher than that of Darius. The double stairs leading to it on the east, and the straight flight down to the southern terrace are given. Under the hill we see a tolerable representation of the south-east edifice, and as we turn back to the Hall of the Hundred Columns we observe a poor representation of the Central Edifice. There is a tendency to represent the ruins in too perfect a condition: the lower portion of the massive piers at the entrance have the appearance of being intact; the eastern stairs of Xerxes are also represented as far too well preserved, and the artist has entirely omitted the great mound opposite the Central Edifice. Apart from these defects, the drawing gives an intelligent design of the place, and it will enable the reader to recover from the nightmare into which he may have fallen after reading the account of Thévenot, and even the description of Chardin himself. The other plates are devoted to separate drawings of the more remarkable objects. One (Plate 54) makes the first attempt to reduce the platform to scale; but the buildings are not indicated upon it. Another gives the Great Staircase (Plate 55); two are devoted to the Porch (Plates 56 and 57); two to the Sculptured Stairs (Plates 58 and 59); two to the Columns of the Hall of Xerxes (Plates 60 and 61). The bas-reliefs are treated with special attention. Besides those on the Porch and the Sculptured Stairs, we are shown the King walking beneath the parasol (Plate 62); seated upon the chair of state above the five rows of guards (Plate 63); and again over the three rows of suppliants (Plate 64). Special plates are devoted to his contests with wild animals (Plate 65), and to the guards at the entrance to the Palaces (Plate 66). A plate is devoted to each of the Tombs on the hill (Plates 67 and 68), and another to a general view of the tombs at Naksh-i-Rustam. By means of these admirable drawings the Persepolitan ruins received their first adequate illustration. Daulier had indeed contributed a general view of some excellence; but the few and insignificant sketches he attempted of the bas-reliefs were the only drawings that had yet appeared. It is doubtful whether anything much better has since been produced than the magnificent views of the sculpture on the Great Portal of the Hall of the Hundred Columns and the drawing of the Tombs overhanging the Platform. The sculptured staircase is drawn upon an immense scale. It fills two plates, one opening out in length equal to twelve pages of the book, and the other to five or six pages. The execution is admirable as a work of art, and as such it has perhaps never been surpassed. In point of fidelity to the subject it may not be more in error than many of its successors. At that period the sculptures were no doubt in a more perfect condition than they since became after a lapse of a century or two, and Chardin describes them as being in his day ‘still so complete and so sharply defined that the work appears to have only just come from the sculptors’ hands.’ The plates are no doubt far from reaching photographic accuracy; but this objection applies, if not equally, to the later drawings of Porter and Flandin. When we look at the general view of the platform and observe the remarkable precision with which the various ruins are marked upon it, we are surprised to find the description in the text so complicated and confused.[57] The pencil of the artist seems to have followed with perfect clearness the relation to each other of the various parts of the ruins; but in Chardin’s account of them, from the point where he leaves the Columnar Edifice, we become lost in his description of a perfect maze of apparently isolated structures. When we advance from ‘the marvellous temple choir,’ as he calls that edifice, and proceed to follow his ‘straight line,’ we can only very dimly recognise where we are going. It is not, indeed, till we arrive at the Tombs that we once more recover consciousness of our position. While nothing can be learned of the general disposition of the ruins from the account of Chardin, he has furnished a careful description of detached portions of the edifice. From him we learn that there are inscriptions over the animals on the Porch. He gives a long and minute description of the bas-reliefs on the sculptured staircase. He shows that the dress and arms of the various figures are intended to indicate the countries from which they came, and he accompanies his dissertation with much learned commentary. He thought the Columnar Edifice had originally consisted of twelve rows of ten columns, or one hundred and twenty in all; and he is quite sure he counted three rows with ten in each. He noted also that ‘the capitals are different, not only in their ornamentation but also in the fact that some are single and others double.’ The conflict between men and animals depicted on the side doors he thought represented the struggle of heroes with different nations, which, as in the Book of Daniel, were symbolically represented by animals. He considered the stately personage under the parasol united in his own person the offices of both priest and king. The winged figure seemed to him to represent the soul ascending to heaven, amid the clouds of sacrifice; and he rejected the impious conjecture that it denoted a serpent or satyr or worse. He was fully convinced that the ruins were those of a temple and that the Columnar Edifice had been the ‘choir’ where the victims were immolated. The great difficulty of supposing that the principal buildings had ever been roofed favoured the supposition of its ecclesiastical character. He reviews at great length the different opinions as to its origin; some ascribe it to the period before the Deluge, others to Solomon; but he finally decides in favour of Jamshid, the fourth King of Persia, who, he ascertained, had flourished about the time of the descent of Jacob into Egypt.[58] This opinion as he takes care to emphasise, would throw back the construction of the edifice many centuries before Darius. The idea that the ruins represented the castle and palace of Persepolis was first advocated by Don Garcia, but it had long lost its popularity and the rival opinion first put forward by Della Valle, that they were the remains of a temple had already secured the adhesion of Daulier and Thévenot. Chardin now gave it the support of his authority, and he affected to scout the opposite view as ‘a vain and ridiculous tradition,’ although later investigation has affirmed its truth. He was followed by Kaempfer, and encouraged by the English traveller Fryer, who qualified the opinion that it was ‘Cambyses’ Hall’ with the doubt that it might after all ‘be the ruins of some heathen temple.’[59]

Passing to the tombs, he rightly conjectured that the round object above the fire altar represented the sun, ‘the great divinity of the Persians.’ More adventurous than Thévenot, he effected an entrance into the northern tomb over the Hall of the Hundred Columns, and describes it as a square space of twenty-two feet and twelve feet high. At the side he noticed two tombs of white marble sixty-two by twenty-six inches and thirty inches high, both full of water. Chardin thought that the entire façade of the tomb was concealed after its construction by a covering of earth. It was the common belief of the country people that Nimrod had been buried in the first of these tombs and Darius in the second, but Chardin thought that both had been occupied long before the time of Darius.

He mentions the column in the plain three hundred paces from the platform, perfect except the capital. From this spot across to Naksh-i-Rustam ruins may be seen scattered over the whole plain and it was here he thought the city of Persepolis had stood, with the Temple to the east and the Tombs to the west. It reached northwards between the hills where fallen columns, pieces of architraves and bas-reliefs might be observed, and he was told that there were traces of ruins within a circuit of ten leagues.

Chehel Minar is honeycombed by subterranean passages, possibly drains or aqueducts, and Chardin explored several of them. He found one of sufficient height to walk through upright, and he advanced nearly a mile, when he was forced to return. The people of the country told him it extended for six leagues and leads to subterranean tombs. A similar passage connects the temple with Naksh-i-Rustam.

Chardin noted many inscriptions among the ruins, sometimes even upon the robes of the figures.[60] He observes that the strange characters are sometimes three inches in height, and there can be no doubt that some of them, especially the capitals, were gilt. This was in fact the opinion of several of the early travellers, such as Mandelslo and Daulier Deslandes; while Herbert saw gilding on the bas-reliefs themselves. The writing is composed of only two kinds of characters: one resembles an oblique triangle, the other a pyramid. The first has ‘la pointe ou angulaire, ou en bas ou en travers.’ The second may assume six postures: ‘when perpendicular, the pointed end may be either top or bottom; when horizontal, either to left or right; when diagonal, it may point either way.’ It may be read not only from left to right, but also from top to bottom like Chinese. Some consider the writing is purely hieroglyphical, but Chardin thinks it is a true writing like our own—but it will be impossible ever to tell whether it has vowels, or anything else about it. In order to illustrate his opinion concerning the various directions in which the characters might be read, he made a copy of the inscription that runs round the window of the Palace of Darius. This is the first complete inscription ever copied, and unfortunately it contributed much to impede the progress of decipherment.[61] Although consisting of only one line, it is in three different scripts, and its inspection served at once to confirm the opinion of Chardin that the wedges might be turned in any direction—for to the left of the window we see the thick end of the wedge at the bottom; on the right of the window it is in the reverse position; while on the top it is turned to the left. It was long before it was discovered that this inscription was to be read, like the legend running round a coin—the line to the left being written running up; and the line to the right running down; so that in reality the wedge always preserves the same direction.

He visited Naksh-i-Rustam, and was the first to give an account of the Inscriptions on the second tomb. The one above consists, he says, of fifteen lines; the other near the cornice and the door is shorter. He induced his valet, by an offer of three crowns, to explore the interior, and he was probably the first European who ever accomplished the task. He was encountered at the narrow entrance by an immense flight of pigeons, at first mistaken for demons, who were terrified by his intrusion and hastened to make their escape. He reported that the cave measured forty paces in a straight line from the entrance and thirty on either side. Facing the entrance he noticed the lids of three sarcophagi upon the ground, and to right and left were four tombs each six feet long.[62]

The general impression left upon his mind by the contemplation of Persepolis was that the ruins were the most magnificent he had ever seen.[63] Although not without fault, they are, taken as a whole, characterised by excellent taste and worthy of admiration for the amount of labour that lies concealed as well as for that which is displayed. He attributed the destruction of the building more to the religious zeal of the Mohamedans than to time. Istakhr early became the seat of a Viceroy of the Khalifs, and since then the work of demolition has never ceased. Even Shah Abbas adorned his palace at Ispahan with some of its marbles, and others found their way to Shiraz. Not long before Chardin’s visit the governor of that place gave orders that sixty men should be employed in systematic destruction directed chiefly against the human figures; but fortunately his orders were not fully carried into execution.

The year after the appearance of Chardin’s account of Persepolis Engelbert Kaempfer published his Travels, (1712) which include a description of the same monument.[64] He was a German physician who went to Persia in 1684 in the capacity of secretary to the Swedish Envoy, and he subsequently remained as surgeon to the Dutch fleet stationed in the Persian Gulf. His visit to Persepolis occurred twelve years later than that of Chardin, but unfortunately he was not accompanied by a skilful artist (1686). He treats us to five drawings of Persepolis and three of Naksh-i-Rustam. The former include two general views of the Platform, one taken from the west and the other from the east: the Porch, the sculptured stairs and the great door of the Hall of the Hundred Columns. They are quite unworthy to be compared either in design or execution with those of Chardin. But if it were not for the exceptional excellence of the latter, we should feel more grateful to Kaempfer and his successor Le Bruyn. As it is, Kaempfer’s drawing of the sculptured stairs almost carries us back to the archaic period of art represented by Herbert, and may best be described as grotesque. He is more successful in the treatment of the façade of a tomb at Naksh-i-Rustam. He has, however, merits peculiar to himself. The first attempt to draw the platform to scale was made by Chardin; but Kaempfer improved upon this example by marking the position and outline of the principal ruins upon it; and has thus afforded the student invaluable assistance to guide him through the intricacies of all future descriptions. He has added to its clearness by numbering each of the ruins: a system he has also followed in his general view.

But of still greater importance was the attention he directed to the Inscriptions. It is to him we owe the designation of ‘cuneiform’ from the wedge-like appearance of the signs that compose the groups—a name they have since retained. He considered that the writing was ideographic, as in the Chinese; it was unknown elsewhere, but here it was found cut into the doors, windows, statues and walls, and it was certainly contemporary with the construction of the edifice. He was told that the hollow formed by the excision was formerly filled in with gold, which had been removed by the cupidity of subsequent ages, though he fancied he could still detect traces of it in some places. He was particularly struck by the appearance of an inscription on the south wall of the Terrace. It occupied a slab no less than ten paces in length, and was divided into four tablets, each containing twenty-four lines. He copied the one on his right hand as carefully as the difficulties of the situation would permit; he was unfortunately prevented from copying the others, but he observed that the characters in them varied to a certain extent. The inscription he gave was afterwards known as the ‘L of Niebuhr,’ and belongs to the third or Babylonian system of writing.[65] He has transcribed the whole of the twenty-four lines, and it was by far the longest text that had ever yet been published to the world. Although the copy is defective when compared with the perfection that has since been achieved, yet as a first attempt upon so large a scale it deserves high commendation. He also gives the trilingual inscription round a window in the Palace of Darius, but in this he had been anticipated by Chardin.[66]

He is careful also to direct the reader’s attention to the position of inscriptions in other parts of the ruins. He mentions the inscription over the animals in the Porch (of which, however, we had already heard from Chardin), but he also fixes the position of the inscription in twenty-four lines on the sculptured stairs;[67] of the three inscriptions on the south stairs of the Palace of Darius;[68] of the three inscriptions, each of six lines, over the bas-relief on the great doors of the same edifice,[69] and of the three inscriptions, each of four lines, in the corresponding position in the Palace of Xerxes.[70] Kaempfer favoured the opinion then most generally accepted that the building was a temple rather than a palace, and he considered that the columns were designed to support a roof.[71] He gives the earliest description we have of the central edifice, and he explains clearly the nature of the building. It consists, he says, of the remains of three massive doors and the bases of two columns and although these ruins are few in number he declares they are superb.[72]

He remarked that two months would be scarcely long enough to sketch the principal objects, and he could only spare three days.

Nearly twenty years later the ruins were visited by another traveller who had more time at his disposal. Corneille le Bruyn arrived early in November 1704 and occupied himself for three months in sketching and measuring the various edifices.[73] Unfortunately, the result is scarcely equal to the effort. His book, which was published at Amsterdam in 1718, contains eight plates of Persepolis; but they are greatly inferior to those of Chardin and are executed on too small a scale to assist the student in following the diffuse and confused description given in the text. Two plates are devoted to four general views taken from different points. In these the buildings are indicated by letters, which refer the reader to the text, and they enable him to apprehend some of the more obscure statements made by the writer. One plate is devoted to views of the great stairs and entrance portico. Two others reproduce the figures on the sculptured stairs. Though inferior to the same views given by Chardin, they are immeasurably superior to the one by Kaempfer and fall little short of those subsequently executed by Niebuhr. The remaining plates contain a number of small vignettes, which convey but a poor impression of the objects they are designed to represent. Le Bruyn has, however, devoted one of the plates to Inscriptions and this is the most important work he has achieved in connection with this subject. He has copied five separate inscriptions, four of which were now published for the first time. (1) The Inscription on the Sculptured Stairs.[74] (2) The Inscription on the pilaster in the Portico of the Palace of Darius.[75] It is in three tablets, each tablet containing from thirteen to fifteen lines. (3) The Inscription seen over the King in the same palace.[76] It is also in three tablets, each containing six lines. (4) The Inscription in the folds of the royal robe—of which seven lines are given.[77] (5) Finally, he has reproduced the window Inscription already published by Chardin and Kaempfer, but instead of representing it as it occurs round a window, he has placed the three lines under one another in parallel lines.[78] By this simple change of position he has shown the fallacy of the theory that the lines at the sides may be read from top to bottom: or that the wedge can occur with the point upwards. Le Bruyn is a more accurate copyist than Kaempfer, and in some respects he even excels Ouseley, a hundred years later. With Le Bruyn the cuneiforms assume the bold and regular appearance with which we are now familiar, although he confuses many of the letters by too great compression.

Le Bruyn appears to have been one of the first travellers to attempt to make a collection of these antiquities to send home to Europe. The extreme hardness of the stone severely taxed the strength of his tools, and it was with considerable difficulty that he secured a piece from a window covered with cuneiform characters, and some other smaller objects. These he despatched through the agent of the Dutch East India Company to the Burgomaster of Amsterdam. So far as we know, the only other specimens of cuneiforms that had hitherto been seen in Europe were those picked up by Della Valle on the site of Babylon and sent to the Kircherian Museum.

He was not very happy in some of his criticisms. He described the animals on the Entrance Portico as having a likeness to the Sphinx with the body of a horse and the feet of a lion. He imagined that the animal attacked by the lion on the sculptured stairs was a horse or even an ass. The object that separates the various groups in the same place he describes as a vase. He considered the capital surmounting the columns was the figure of a kneeling camel. He is about the only competent observer, with the exception of Niebuhr, who discerned female figures among the sculptures.[79] He appears to say that there are no less than forty-six of these in the Palace of Darius alone: among them are the King’s attendants bearing the fly-chaser and parasol. He estimates the total of human figures among the ruins at 1300; and, judging by the number of bases, he considered there were originally not less than two hundred and five columns.[80] He gives the measurements of the buildings, the size and number of the figures with a detail that becomes irksome and bewildering. The reader often regrets that he did not make better use of his pen and pencil, and spare him some of the results of the measuring tape. He is by no means too lavish of his praise. He censured the figures as stiff and devoid of animation; the nude he found represented without anatomical skill and the draperies without taste. He admits, however, that the ornamentations, when they occur, are beautiful. He was of opinion that all the stone for the construction of the various edifices came from the neighbouring mountains, where he observed all the various shades found at Persepolis. He had the good sense to reject the foolish theory supported by Chardin as to the Jamshid origin of the ruins; and he could see no evidence that they had ever been used as a temple. On the contrary, he considered that they had been a palace, and his conviction that the columns had originally supported a roof lessens the difficulty of accepting that view. He argues with some force and great diffuseness that it could only have been the Palace of the Achaemenides destroyed by Alexander: an opinion confirmed by later investigation, and one that greatly facilitated the attempt made by Grotefend to decipher the inscriptions.