Strachan was probably not quite straight with della Valle about the women who “believed herself his wife.” It was reported that they had in fact married. If so, it would mean that he had converted to Islam, although he denied this to della Valle.
In Isfahan Strachan taught Arabic classes and set about to compile a comprehensive Arabic dictionary. Among his students were Carmelite missionaries who reported that his instruction included two hours of reading and one hour of conversation each day. Unfortunately, he became involved in merchant activities with the British East India company and never completed his academic projects.
Eventually Strachan decided to move on to India. One of his main concerns before leaving Persia was to see to the many books of Islamic philosophy and literature he had acquired in his travels. He willed them to the Carmelite monastery in Rome. Della Valle endorsed the will. Many of the books are now in the Vatican library. After della Valle returned to Rome he lost track of his Scottish friend, and how Strachan spent his final years is unknown. But every once in a while a book shows up, like a Persian manuscript in the British Museum, that contains an interlineal translation that concludes “translated into Latin by George Strachan, Scot of the Mearns, 1634.”
Scholars often traveled in search of teaching positions or patronage. The occultist scholar John Dee, for example, was advisor to Queen Elizabeth on astrological and scientific matters but later traveled in search of patronage to Poland, Bohemia, Austria, and elsewhere.
Scholars were also tossed and buffeted by the tumultuous politics of the time. Warfare created countless refugees. Korea, caught between China and Japan, was often a battleground. Invasions from Japan led by Toyotomi Hideyoshi in 1592 and 1598 were among the most brutal ever, and are remembered by many Koreans today as the most devastating event in their difficult history. Japanese warriors sliced off enough ears and noses from enemy soldiers and civilians to create a huge mound with them near Kyoto, called the Mound of Ears (Mimizuka). The body parts were intended not only to inspire terror and serve as trophies of war but also to demonstrate samurai successes so that the warriors could be rewarded proportionally.
These conflicts were among the first large-scale modern wars involving huge armies, advanced military technology, and massive casualties. The invasions were intended as a prelude to the conquest of China. Many Korean artisans were forcibly transferred to Japan, where they had a major impact on the development of Japanese ceramic and textile technologies and aesthetics.
The Korean author Heo Gyun, who was over the course of his life a refugee, a diplomat, and a political dissident and reformer, was among those who fled from Hideyoshi’s invaders. Heo, in his early twenties, was living in Seoul when the Japanese invaded. His young wife was pregnant. The Koreans were unprepared for the attack and offered little resistance.
Hideyoshi’s Navy Attacking Busanjin Fortress, 1709, reworked 1760 by Byeon Bak. Colors on silk. Army Museum of San Gongneung-dong, Nowon-gu, Seoul 230-30. National Treasure no. 391.
This painting depicts the 1592 Japanese invasion of Korea. It is valued as a national treasure and an expression of the Korean spirit of resistance against overwhelming odds.
As Heo and his wife fled the city they saw it burning behind them — slaves had set fire to government offices to destroy the records that bound them. They were heading for his hometown of Gangneung on the east coast of Korea, far from the centers of fighting, where Heo’s father was governor. The refugees were traveling through a rugged mountainous region during the heat of summer. When Heo’s wife went into labor there was no opportunity to find sanitary conditions. She died in childbirth, and their newborn son also died a few days later. Heo wrote a poem about his experience as a refugee fleeing the Japanese invasion:
At the Refugee Camp
I
My home is in Changnung, east of a small market —
a thatched house with several small rooms, now empty.
So many of my scrolls were catalogued, but where are they now?
Perhaps thrown in a ditch, or buried under earth.
II
A few days ago, when court meetings adjourned, the wide street
filled with the jingle of waist pendants; ten thousand houses bubbled with courtesans
and fluttering flutes. Now the King has left his palace — the field for singing and dancing
has become a battleground.
III
My father’s grave is on the banks of the Han River.
At year’s end, who will tend his tomb?
I look west to the pine trees, heartbroken — the sun sets
at the sky’s edge — my handkerchief, wet with tears.
IV
The road’s endless distance to West Castle’s river border —
since leaving, it is difficult to send letters. I see only spears.
My refugee life, entrusted to others,
where will I enjoy clouds — spend a day in leisurely sleep?
V
Near the northern border, enemy swords still have not been broken.
When will the greedy pigs leave the central kingdom?
At day’s end, beacon-post fires have all been quelled.
I sit, knowing the enemy will not confront this battle-ready mountain.
VI
A thousand foot castle wall surrounded by a hundred foot ditch —
the soldiers wield sharp arrows, strong bows, and long swords.
Clappers sound in front of the castle tents; soldiers speak with one another:
“Our governor will surely be defeated.”
VII
At every station in my life, I’ve liked to act as a simple sick monk:
during hushed nights in my thatched house, I sit, facing a hooded candle.
It is difficult to melt away old habits of my luxurious life —
tomorrow on the plain, I plan a day of hawking.
VIII
At this river crossing, my friend, in the purple glow of evening, seemed a river spirit.
Once he left and letters ended, distance between us grew immense.
I cherish a memory of last year, during a moon like this night’s,
when we rode side by side in the snow to fetch tea water.
The Japanese advance began to stall. Though Korea’s army was outmatched, its navy — which had honed its skills defending the country against Japanese pirates — had success in disrupting the invaders’ supply lines. As news of the invaders’ brutality spread, impromptu militias rose up to supplement the inefficient and bureaucratic official military.
China’s Ming court viewed the impending defeat of its tributary state with alarm. In 1593 the Wanli emperor dispatched a large army to fight the Japanese. Fierce battles devastated the countryside, as the two superpowers fought to stalemate. For several years an uneasy truce held while a negotiated settlement of the conflict was sought; then in 1597 the Japanese launched another attack. This time the Koreans were better prepared. Inconclusive fighting continued until September 1598, when Hideyoshi died. On his deathbed he ordered the withdrawal of Japanese forces.
Heo continued his scholarly studies throughout the long conflict. One of his teachers was a man named Lee Dal, a famous poet. In Heo Kyun’s estimation Lee’s “many splendid poems are acknowledged as being among the most brilliant collections of all the Tang-style poetry written in Korea since the Silla dynasty.” Lee wrote in a simple, direct style (like that of Chinese poets from the Tang dynasty) that influenced both Heo Gyun and his sister, Heo Nanseolheon, one of Korea’s foremost female poets. But Lee Dal’s mother was a concubine, so he was unable to advance at court. This seemed to Heo Gyun a great injustice, and he became an advocate for reform.
As the century drew to a close Heo Gyun is believed to have written Korea’s first novel in the vernacular language of ordinary people. Known as The Tale of Hong Gildong (Hong Gildong-jeon), it is traditionally attributed to him, though his authorship of the work has not been absolutely established.
Hong Gildong has been called the Robin Hood of Korea. As an illegitimate son of a government minister, Hong was barred from normal paths of advancement. He studied martial arts and became the leader of a rebel band who fought for justice and the rights of the illegitimate, the disenfranchised, and the poor. Eventually he became governor of a utopian island where women, the common people, and the poor were given more opportunity than in traditional society. His story has remained popular in Korea, where it has inspired movies, television shows, cartoons, and video games.
After the withdrawal of the Japanese the Koreans were faced with what was essentially an occupying army of their Chinese allies. Heo Gyun was named an ambassador to the Ming court. Because of his deep familiarity with Tang dynasty Chinese poetry, he was popular with the Ming literati.
Gyun’s sister, Nanseolheon, depressed following the deaths of her children after childbirth, committed suicide at the age of twenty-seven. Heo Gyun arranged the publication of her work in China, where it was received enthusiastically. It was said that demand for her work caused a paper shortage in Beijing.
Around 1616, back in Korea, Heo, now in his late forties, was appointed an official of the premier’s office, but he would not remain in favor for long. Bitterly critical of many aspects of the Korean government, he posted an appeal on a public gate, which was seen as a rebellious act. He became involved in court disputes, and ended up holding the short stick. His dissident and reformist opinions had not gone unnoticed. In 1618 he was convicted of treason, his limbs were bound to oxen driven in separate directions, and he was drawn and quartered.
Pietro and Maani departed for Persia on Christmas day. To keep his departure a secret he let it be known that he was strolling out to admire the sunset and then joined the caravan after dark. Reaching Isfahan without incident, della Valle was struck, like all travelers to the Persian capital, by the excellence of its city planning and architecture. At the center of the city was the Maidan, an enormous square, seven times larger than the Piazza di San Marco in Venice, with which it was sometimes compared. It was “surrounded on all sides by symmetrical porticoes, uninterrupted by streets, with shops below selling various articles, and above with balconies and windows decorated with a thousand pretty ornaments.” The result was a grand-scale “harmony of architecture” without parallel among the cities he had visited. Nor was there a match anywhere in Italy for the Chahar Bagh, the broad avenue designed by the shah.
Unfortunately, the shah was away on a campaign in Georgia at the time of della Valle’s arrival, and he would be forced to wait a year for an audience. He passed the time by getting to know many of the city’s literary figures and disputing religion with learned clerics. It was a cosmopolitan city. On one occasion della Valle met a Japanese man on his way to Europe who gave him a lesson in East Asian calligraphy. Maani made herself useful by becoming friendly with one of the wives of the shah’s chief astrologer, an important figure in the capital. But the Flemish painter, who della Valle sadly reports had become intolerably insolent, abandoned the adventure in Isfahan, leaving behind an unfinished portrait of Maani that may have been the model for the engraving shown on p. 254.
Della Valle took matters into his own hands and went in search of Shah Abbas. Maani persuaded him to abandon his teetotaling ways. He would be forced to drink with the shah, she argued, so how could he refuse his own wife? She was upset about her failure to become pregnant, which she attributed to the “cold and wet humors” that entered into his blood as a result of his habit of drinking water. Della Valle had already fathered two illegitimate children in Italy, but he had been told by a Roman astrologer that he would not have many children. Rarely has a fortune proved so false.
When della Valle caught up with the shah he was welcomed with a fine banquet served by beardless young men, about eighteen to twenty years old, dressed in long stockings, thigh-length gowns worn tight at the chest, and little silk caps rimmed with fur. Musicians played softly while everyone chatted, waiting for the leader’s arrival. At last he appeared,
dressed in a cloth coat of a bright green color … tied at the chest … with orange laces. He wore violet hose, shoes of orange shagreen [untanned leather], a red turban, with silver stripes, swordbelt and top sash of many colors, and a sword of black shagreen and handle of white bone, which I think was from fishes’ teeth.
The shah, della Valle added, was wearing his turban backwards on his head, a style that no one else in Persia was allowed to affect. Struck by this eye-catching outfit, della Valle must have realized he was in the presence of a kindred spirit, and indeed the two quickly became friendly.
After a time, della Valle’s health began to decline, and he returned to the capital. He and Maani stayed there for three years. They were joined by Maani’s parents, as well as an eight-year-old war orphan from Georgia whom Maani had adopted the year before, named Maria Tinatin de Ziba but always called Mariuccia. Her father had been killed in battle with the Persians, and she had been taken in by Carmelite missionaries. Adding to the entourage was a pride of Persian cats, a breed della Valle later introduced to Europe. But Maani’s mother disliked life in Isfahan, and nine months later she returned to Baghdad with Maani’s sisters.
During his time in the Persian capital della Valle observed the arrival of many diplomats from foreign nations. The emergent globalism of the early modern world resulted in a large number of embassies traveling vast distances, often achieving minimal results. Della Valle dismissed a pair of emissaries from Muscovy as “barbarous and rude … proud and uncouth, faithless, deceivers” whose dress was coarse and ugly, “pleated everywhere in the most haphazard manner. The waist is bound by an ugly belt, and a large hood … reaches halfway down the back.” Another was the Mughal ambassador, whose habit of smoking a large hookah everywhere he went annoyed della Valle considerably. He brought with him a large quantity of gifts that included a menagerie consisting of water buffalo, elephants, rhinoceroses, and many other strange animals. An English emissary seemed to him a simple and unaffected fellow. Della Valle described Shah Abbas’s handling of the diplomats. The shah sent subtle signals by keeping ambassadors waiting variable lengths of time or showing various kinds of preference to one or another. When a Turkish envoy ambassador arrived in Isfahan Abbas humiliated him in public, to the applause of a crowd of onlookers, but then negotiated with him in private.
One ambassador was an elderly Spaniard named Don Garcia de Silva y Figueroa, whom della Valle described as “white-haired but still very active,” and whose increasing moodiness and disillusionment he documents. Don García de Silva y Figueroa was a longtime civil servant who had been passing his years placidly in the foreign office in Madrid before being appointed to head an embassy to Persia. His travails during this embassy, documented in a journal he kept of it, demonstrate some of the ordeals of international diplomacy during this time.
Silva y Figueroa’s main qualifications for the assignment were that he was a person of high birth who had served in the military and the government, and he was respected as a geographer. He was charged with persuading Shah Abbas to wage war on the Ottomans, whose territories in North Africa were disrupting Spanish ships in the Mediterranean, and with ensuring the safety of Portuguese outposts in the Persian Gulf, particularly the strategically important city of Hormuz, which protected the gulf against access from the Indian Ocean. To this end he was supplied with diplomatic credentials dated August 1613. He was then sixty-three years old.
Page with a Golden Goblet, ca. 1610, by Riza-yi Abbasi. Colors and gold on brown paper. 8 × 16 cm. Musée du Louvre, Legs G. Marteau, inv. no. 7136.
This drawing of a page by the leading painter of Shah Abbas’s court may hint at the impression made by youthful attendants at banquets attended by Pietro della Valle and other visitors to the Safavid court. The shah increasingly took an interest in his young pages in his later years.
But it was not until the spring of 1614 that Silva y Figueroa actually embarked on his mission. It had been nece
ssary to assemble suitable gifts to impress the Persian ruler. Among the offerings were the sword Philip II had worn during his marriage ceremony; gold in the form of chains, cups, and gilded chests; silver in the form of a writing table and a table services; military armor and weapons; three hundred camel-loads of pepper; and much more, including even a mastiff “of notable generosity and strength.” His ship, further delayed by high winds in Portugal, finally departed the second week of April.
During the journey down the coast of Africa Silva y Figueroa fumed about the “bestial obstinacy” of the ship’s pilot. He considered him to have a cavalier attitude toward his navigational responsibilities, an opinion not diminished when, after it had already been announced that the ship had rounded the Cape of Good Hope, it appeared looming ahead a full two weeks later. The Cape was finally rounded in August.
Because of the lateness in rounding the Cape, the ship was unable to follow the preferred route through the Mozambique Channel, as this was considered too perilous any later than July 25. This meant that the ship would not touch land until arriving at Goa on the central Indian coast. By this time the water on board had gone bad, and the crew and passengers had become sick. Scurvy struck, with the result that most of those who survived did so with the loss of their teeth. When Pietro della Valle would encounter the ambassador in Persia he would observe that he had no teeth; whether he had embarked with a set is not known. Silva y Figueroa thought that the later phases of scurvy, which he called the “mal de Loanda,” were a different ailment from the initial phase, and he detailed the symptoms:
The second sickness is for the most part terrible and extremely dangerous. It is usually called the Mal de Loanda. It swells the feet and thighs with black or violent spots of the most evil and darkest quality, and then mounts upward to the belly and later the chest, at which point it kills immediately, without other pain or fever, all but those of the very strongest constitution. Only if the disease does not go higher than the thighs does the sufferer survive, for no effective remedy has been discovered during the hundred years that the malady has been known.
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