The Lives of Celebrated Travellers, Vol. I.

FAMILY LIBRARY.

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The Dramatic Series of the Family Library will consist principally of the works of those Dramatists who flourished contemporaneously with Shakspeare, in which all such passages as are inconsistent with modern delicacy will be omitted. The number of volumes will be limited, and they will be bound and numbered in such a manner as to render it not essentially necessary to obtain them to complete a set of the Family Library.

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“We have so often recommended this enterprising and useful publication (the Family Library), that we can here only add, that each successive number appears to confirm its merited popularity.”—N. Y. American.

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PROSPECTUS
OF THE
LIBRARY OF SELECT NOVELS.

Fictitious composition is now admitted to form an extensive and important portion of literature. Well-wrought novels take their rank by the side of real narratives, and are appealed to as evidence in all questions concerning man. In them the customs of countries, the transitions and shades of character, and even the very peculiarities of costume and dialect, are curiously preserved; and the imperishable spirit that surrounds and keeps them for the use of successive generations renders the rarities for ever fresh and green. In them human life is laid down as on a map. The strong and vivid exhibitions of passion and of character which they furnish, acquire and maintain the strongest hold upon the curiosity, and, it may be added, the affections of every class of readers; for not only is entertainment in all the various moods of tragedy and comedy provided in their pages, but he who reads them attentively may often obtain, without the bitterness and danger of experience, that knowledge of his fellow-creatures which but for such aid could, in the majority of cases, be only acquired at a period of life too late to turn it to account.

This “Library of Select Novels” will embrace none but such as have received the impress of general approbation, or have been written by authors of established character; and the publishers hope to receive such encouragement from the public patronage as will enable them in the course of time to produce a series of works of uniform appearance, and including most of the really valuable novels and romances that have been or shall be issued from the modern English and American press.

There is scarcely any question connected with the interests of literature which has been more thoroughly discussed and investigated than that of the utility or evil of novel reading. In its favour much may be and has been said, and it must be admitted that the reasonings of those who believe novels to be injurious, or at least useless, are not without force and plausibility. Yet, if the arguments against novels are closely examined, it will be found that they are more applicable in general to excessive indulgence in the pleasures afforded by the perusal of fictitious adventures than to the works themselves; and that the evils which can be justly ascribed to them arise almost exclusively, not from any peculiar noxious qualities that can be fairly attributed to novels as a species, but from those individual works which in their class must be pronounced to be indifferent.

But even were it otherwise—were novels of every kind, the good as well as the bad, the striking and animated not less than the puerile, indeed liable to the charge of enfeebling or perverting the mind; and were there no qualities in any which might render them instructive as well as amusing—the universal acceptation which they have ever received, and still continue to receive, from all ages and classes of men, would prove an irresistible incentive to their production. The remonstrances of moralists and the reasonings of philosophy have ever been, and will still be found, unavailing against the desire to partake of an enjoyment so attractive. Men will read novels; and therefore the utmost that wisdom and philanthropy can do is to cater prudently for the public appetite, and, as it is hopeless to attempt the exclusion of fictitious writings from the shelves of the library, to see that they are encumbered with the least possible number of such as have no other merit than that of novelty.

“The works of our elder dramatists, as hitherto edited, are wholly unfit to be placed in the hands of young persons, or of females of any age, or even to be thought of for a moment as furniture for the drawing-room table, and the parlour-window, or to form the solace of a family circle at the fireside. What lady will ever confess that she has read and understood Massinger, or Ford, or even Beaumont and Fletcher? There is hardly a single piece in any of those authors which does not contain more abominable passages than the very worst of modern panders would ever dream of hazarding in print—and there are whole plays in Ford, and in Beaumont and Fletcher, the very essence and substance of which is, from beginning to end, one mass of pollution. The works, therefore, of these immortal men have hitherto been library, not drawing-room books;—and we have not a doubt, that, down to this moment, they have been carefully excluded, in toto, from the vast majority of those English houses in which their divine poetry, if stripped of its deforming accompaniments, would have been ministering the most effectually to the instruction and delight of our countrymen, and, above all, of our fair countrywomen.

“We welcome, therefore, the appearance of the Dramatic Series of the Family Library with no ordinary feelings of satisfaction. We are now sure that, ere many months elapse, the productions of those distinguished bards—all of them that is worthy of their genius, their taste, and the acceptation of a moral and refined people—will be placed within reach of every circle from which their very names have hitherto been sufficient to exclude them, in a shape such as must command confidence, and richly reward it. The text will be presented pure and correct, wherever it is fit to be presented at all—every word and passage offensive to the modest ear will be omitted; and means adopted, through the notes, of preserving the sense and story entire, in spite of these necessary erasures. If this were all, it would be a great deal—but the editors undertake much more. They will furnish, in their preliminary notices, and in their notes, clear accounts of the origin, structure, and object of every piece, and the substance of all that sound criticism has brought to their illustration, divested, however, of the personal squabbles and controversies which so heavily and offensively load the bottoms of the pages in the best existing editions of our dramatic worthies. Lives of the authors will be given; and if they be all drawn up with the skill and elegance which mark the Life of Massinger, in the first volume, these alone will form a standard addition to our biographical literature.”—Literary Gazette.

“The early British Drama forms so important a portion of our literature, that a ‘Family Library’ would be incomplete without it. A formidable obstacle to the publication of our early plays, however, consists in the occasional impurity of their dialogue. The editors of the Family Library have, therefore, judiciously determined on publishing a selection of old plays, omitting all such passages as are inconsistent with modern delicacy. The task of separation requires great skill and discretion, but these qualities we have no apprehension of not finding, in the fullest degree requisite, in the editors, who, by this purifying process, will perform a service both to the public and to the authors, whom they will thereby draw forth from unmerited obscurity.”—Asiatic Journal.

“The first number of the ‘Dramatic Series’ of this work commences with the Plays of Massinger; and the lovers of poetry and the drama may now, for the first time, possess the works of all the distinguished writers of the renowned Elizabethan age, at a cost which most pockets can bear; in a form and style, too, which would recommend them to the most tasteful book collector. A portrait of Massinger adorns the first volume; and what little is known of the dramatist is given in a short account of his life.”—Examiner.

FAMILY CLASSICAL LIBRARY.

The Publishers have much pleasure in recording the following testimonials in recommendation of the Family Classical Library.

“Mr. Valpy has projected a Family Classical Library. The idea is excellent, and the work cannot fail to be acceptable to youth of both sexes, as well as to a large portion of the reading community, who have not had the benefit of a learned education.”—Gentleman’s Magazine, Dec. 1829.

“We have here the commencement of another undertaking for the more general distribution of knowledge, and one which, if as well conducted as we may expect, bids fair to occupy an enlarged station in our immediate literature. The volume before us is a specimen well calculated to recommend what are to follow. Leland’s Demosthenes is an excellent work.”—Lit. Gazette.

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“This is a very promising speculation; and as the taste of the day runs just now very strongly in favour of such Miscellanies, we doubt not it will meet with proportionate success. It needs no adventitious aid, however influential; it has quite sufficient merit to enable it to stand on its own foundation, and will doubtless assume a lofty grade in public favour.”—Sun.

“This work, published at a low price, is beautifully got up. Though to profess to be content with translations of the Classics has been denounced as ‘the thin disguise of indolence,’ there are thousands who have no leisure for studying the dead languages, who would yet like to know what was thought and said by the sages and poets of antiquity. To them this work will be a treasure.”—Sunday Times.

“This design, which is to communicate a knowledge of the most esteemed authors of Greece and Rome, by the most approved translations, to those from whom their treasures, without such assistance, would be hidden, must surely be approved by every friend of literature, by every lover of mankind. We shall only say of the first volume, that as the execution well accords with the design, it must command general approbation.”—The Observer.

“We see no reason why this work should not find its way into the boudoir of the lady, as well as into the library of the learned. It is cheap, portable, and altogether a work which may safely be placed in the hands of persons of both sexes.”—Weekly Free Press.

Harper’s Stereotype Edition.

THE

LIVES

OF

CELEBRATED TRAVELLERS.

BY

JAMES AUGUSTUS St. JOHN.

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

Their manners noted and their states survey’d.

Pope’s Homer.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

══════════════

NEW-YORK:

PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY J. & J. HARPER,

NO. 82 CLIFF-STREET,

AND SOLD BY THE PRINCIPAL BOOKSELLERS THROUGHOUT

THE UNITED STATES.

1832.

ADVERTISEMENT.

Dr. Southey, speaking of the works of travellers, very justly remarks, that “of such books we cannot have too many!” and adds, with equal truth, that “because they contribute to the instruction of the learned, their reputation suffers no diminution by the course of time, but that age rather enhances their value.” Every man, indeed, whose comprehensive mind enables him to sympathize with human nature under all its various aspects, and to detect—through the endless disguises superinduced by strange religions, policies, manners, or climate—passions, weaknesses, and virtues akin to his own, must peruse the relations of veracious travellers with peculiar satisfaction and delight. But there is another point of view in which the labours of this class of writers may be contemplated with advantage. Having made use of them as a species of telescope for bringing remote scenes near our intellectual eye, it may, perhaps, be of considerable utility to observe the effect of so many dissimilar and unusual objects, as necessarily present themselves to travellers, upon the mind, character, and happiness of the individuals who beheld them. This, in fact, is the business of the biographer; and it is what I have endeavoured to perform, to the best of my abilities, in the following “Lives.”

By accompanying the adventurer through his distant enterprises, often far more bold and useful than any undertaken by king or conqueror, we insensibly acquire, unless repelled by some base or immoral quality, an affection, as it were, for his person, and learn to regard his toils and dangers amid “antres vast and deserts idle,” as something which concerns us nearly. And when the series of his wanderings in foreign realms are at an end, our curiosity, unwilling to forsake an agreeable track, still pursues him in his return to his home, longs to contemplate him when placed once more in the ordinary ranks of society, and would fain be informed of the remainder of his tale. By some such mental process as this I was led to inquire into the lives of celebrated travellers; and though, in many instances, I have been very far from obtaining all the information I desired, my researches, I trust, will neither be considered discreditable to myself nor useless to the public.

In arranging the materials of my work, I have adopted the order of time for many reasons; but chiefly because, by this means, though pursuing the adventures of individuals, a kind of general history of travels is produced, which, with some necessary breaks, brings down the subject from the middle of the thirteenth century, the era of Marco Polo, to our own times. The early part of this period is principally occupied with the enterprises of foreigners, because our countrymen had not then begun to distinguish themselves greatly in this department of literature. As we advance, however, the genius and courage of Englishmen will command a large share of our attention; and from a feeling which, perhaps, is more than pardonable, I look forward to the execution of that part of my undertaking with more than ordinary pride and pleasure.

J. A. St. John.

Paris, 1831.

CONTENTS.

WILLIAM DE RUBRUQUIS.

Born 1220.—Died about 1293, or 1294.

MARCO POLO.

Born 1250.—Died 1324.

IBN BATŪTA.

Born about 1300.—Died after 1353.

LEO AFRICANUS.

Born about 1486.—Died after 1540.

PIETRO DELLA VALLE.

Born 1586.—Died 1652.

JEAN BAPTISTE TAVERNIER.

Born 1602.—Died 1685, or 1686.

FRANÇOIS BERNIER.

Born about 1624.—Died 1688.

SIR JOHN CHARDIN.

Born 1643.—Died 1713.

ENGELBERT KÆMPFER.

Born 1651.—Died 1716.

HENRY MAUNDRELL.

THE LIVES

OF

CELEBRATED TRAVELLERS.

WILLIAM DE RUBRUQUIS.

Born about 1220.—Died after 1293.

The conquests of Genghis Khan and his successors, extending from the Amoor and the Chinese Wall to the confines of Poland and Hungary, having excited extraordinary terror in the minds of the Christian princes of Europe, many of them, and particularly the pope and the King of France, despatched ambassadors into Tartary, rather as spies to observe the strength and weakness of the country, and the real character of its inhabitants, than for any genuine diplomatic purposes. Innocent IV. commenced those anomalous negotiations, by sending, in 1246 and 1247, ambassadors into Mongolia to the Great Khan, as well as to his lieutenant in Persia. These ambassadors, as might be expected, were monks, religious men being in those times almost the only persons possessing any talent for observation, or the knowledge necessary to record their observations for the benefit of those who sent them. The first embassy from the pope terminated unsuccessfully, as did likewise the maiden effort of St. Louis; but this pious monarch, whose zeal overpowered his good sense, still imagined that the conversion of the Great Khan, which formed an important part of his design, was far from being impracticable; and upon the idle rumour that one of his nephews had embraced Christianity, and thus opened a way for the Gospel into his dominions, St. Louis in 1253 despatched a second mission into Tartary, at the head of which was William de Rubruquis.

This celebrated monk was a native of Brabant, who, having travelled through France, and several other countries of Europe, had passed over, perhaps with the army of St. Louis, into Egypt, from whence he had proceeded to the Holy Land. Of this part of his travels no account remains. When intrusted, however, with the mission into Tartary, he repaired to Constantinople, whence, having publicly offered up his prayers to God in the church of St. Sophia, he departed on the 7th of May, with his companions, and moving along the southern shore of the Black Sea, arrived at Sinopia, where he embarked for the Crimea. From an opinion that any indignities which might be offered to Rubruquis would compromise the dignity of the king, it had been agreed between Louis and his agent that, on the way at least, the latter should pretend to no public character, but feign religious motives, as if he had been urged by his own private zeal to endeavour the conversion of the khan and his subjects. Upon reaching Soldaza in the Crimea, however, he discovered that, secret as their proceedings were supposed to have been, the whole scheme of the enterprise was perfectly understood; and that, unless as the envoy of the king, he would not be permitted to continue his journey.

Rubruquis had no sooner entered the dominions of the Tartars than he imagined himself to be in a new world. The savage aspect of the people, clad in the most grotesque costume, and eternally on horseback, together with the strange appearance of the country, the sound of unknown languages, the practice of unusual customs, and that feeling of loneliness and desertion which seized upon their minds, caused our traveller and his companions to credit somewhat too readily the deceptive testimony of first impressions, which never strictly corresponds with truth. Travelling in those covered wagons which serve the Tartars for carriages, tents, and houses, and through immense steppes in which neither town, village, house, nor any other building, save a few antique tombs, appeared, they arrived in a few weeks at the camp of Zagatay Khan, which, from the number of those moving houses there collected, and ranged in long lines upon the edge of a lake, appeared like an immense city.

Here they remained some days in order to repose themselves, and then set forward, with guides furnished them by Zagatay, towards the camp of Sartak, the prince to whom the letters of St. Louis were addressed. The rude and rapacious manners of the Tartars, rendered somewhat more insolent than ordinary, perhaps, by the unaccommodating temper of their guests, appeared so detestable to Rubruquis, that, to use his own forcible expression, he seemed to be passing through one of the gates of hell; and his ideas were probably tinged with a more sombre hue by the hideous features of the people, whose countenances continually kept up in his mind the notion that he had fallen among a race of demons. As they approached the Tanais the land rose occasionally into lofty hills, which were succeeded by plains upon which nothing but the immense tombs of the Comans, visible at a distance of two leagues, met the eye.

Having crossed the Tanais and entered Asia, they were for several days compelled to proceed on foot, there being neither horses nor oxen to be obtained for money. Forests and rivers here diversified the prospect. The inhabitants, a fierce, uncivilized race, bending beneath the yoke of pagan superstition, and dwelling in huts scattered through the woods, were yet hospitable to strangers, and so inaccessible to the feelings of jealousy that they cared not upon whom their wives bestowed their favours. Hogs, wax, honey, and furs of various kinds constituted the whole of their wealth. At length, after a long and a wearisome journey, which was rendered doubly irksome by their ignorance of the language of the people, and the stupid and headstrong character of their interpreter, they arrived on the 1st of July at the camp of Sartak, three days’ journey west of the Volga.

The court of this Tartar prince exhibited that species of magnificence which may be supposed most congruous with the ideas of barbarians: ample tents, richly caparisoned horses, and gorgeous apparel.—Rubruquis and his suit entered the royal tent in solemn procession, with their rich clerical ornaments, church plate, and illuminated missals borne before them, holding a splendid copy of the Scriptures in their hands, wearing their most sumptuous vestments, and thundering forth, as they moved along, the “Salve Regina!” This pompous movement, which gave the mission the appearance of being persons of consequence, and thus flattered the vanity of Sartak, was not altogether impolitic; but it had one evil consequence; for, although it probably heightened the politeness of their reception, the sight of their sacred vessels, curious missals, and costly dresses excited the cupidity of the Nestorian priests, and cost Rubruquis dearly, many valuable articles being afterward sequestrated when he was leaving Tartary.

It now appeared that the reports of Sartak’s conversion to Christianity, which had probably been circulated in Christendom by the vanity of the Nestorians, were wholly without foundation; and with respect to the other points touched upon in the letters of the French king, the khan professed himself unable to make any reply without the counsel of his father Batou, to whose court, therefore, he directed the ambassadors to proceed. They accordingly recommenced their journey, and moving towards the east, crossed the Volga, and traversed the plains of Kipjak, until they arrived at the camp of this new sovereign, whose mighty name seems never before to have reached their ears. Rubruquis was singularly astonished, however, at the sight of this prodigious encampment, which covered the plain for the space of three or four leagues, the royal tent rising like an immense dome in the centre, with a vast open space before it on the southern side.

On the morning after their arrival they were presented to the khan. They found Batou, the description of whose red countenance reminds the reader of Tacitus’s portrait of Domitian, seated upon a lofty throne glittering with gold. One of his wives sat near him, and around this lady and the other wives of Batou, who were all present, his principal courtiers had taken their station. Rubruquis was now commanded by his conductor to kneel before the prince. He accordingly bent one knee, and was about to speak, when his guide informed him by a sign that it was necessary to bend both. This he did, and then imagining, he says, that he was kneeling before God, in order to keep up the illusion, he commenced his speech with an ejaculation. Having prayed that to the earthly gifts which the Almighty had showered down so abundantly upon the khan, the favour of Heaven might be added, he proceeded to say, that the spiritual gifts to which he alluded could be obtained only by becoming a Christian; for that God himself had said, “He who believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he who believeth not shall be damned.” At these words the khan smiled; but his courtiers, less hospitable and polite, began to clap their hands, and hoot and mock at the denouncer of celestial vengeance. The interpreter, who, in all probability, wholly misrepresented the speeches he attempted to translate, and thus, perhaps, by some inconceivable blunders excited the derision of the Tartars, now began to be greatly terrified, as did Rubruquis himself, who probably remembered that the leader of a former embassy had been menaced with the fate of St. Bartholomew. Batou, however, who seems to have compassionated his sufferings, desired him to rise up; and turning the conversation into another channel, began to make inquiries respecting the French king, asking what was his name, and whether it was true that he had quitted his own country for the purpose of carrying on a foreign war. Rubruquis then endeavoured, but I know not with what success, to explain the motives of the crusaders, and several other topics upon which Batou required information. Observing that the ambassador was much dejected, and apparently filled with terror, the khan commanded him to sit down; and still more to reassure him and dissipate his apprehensions, ordered a bowl of mare’s milk, or koismos, to be put out before him, which, as bread and salt among the Arabs, is with them the sacred pledge of hospitality; but perceiving that even this failed to dispel his gloomy thoughts, he bade him look up and be of good cheer, giving him clearly to understand that no injury was designed him.

Notwithstanding the barbaric magnificence of his court, and the terror with which he had inspired Rubruquis, Batou was but a dependent prince, who would not for his head have dared to determine good or evil respecting any ambassador entering Tartary,—every thing in these matters depending upon the sovereign will of his brother Mangou, the Great Khan of the Mongols. Batou, in fact, caused so much to be signified to Rubruquis, informing him, that to obtain a reply to the letters he had brought, he must repair to the court of the Khe-Khan. When they had been allowed sufficient time for repose, a Tartar chief was assigned them as a guide, and being furnished with horses for themselves and their necessary baggage, the remainder being left behind, and with sheepskin coats to defend them from the piercing cold, they set forward towards the camp of Mangou, then pitched near the extreme frontier of Mongolia, at the distance of four months’ journey.

The privations and fatigue which they endured during this journey were indescribable. Whenever they changed horses, the wily Tartar impudently selected the best beast for himself, though Rubruquis was a large heavy man, and therefore required a powerful animal to support his weight. If any of their horses flagged on the way, the whip and the stick were mercilessly plied, to compel him, whether he would or not, to keep pace with the others, which scoured along over the interminable steppes with the rapidity of an arrow; and when, as sometimes happened, the beast totally foundered, the two Franks (for there were now but two, the third having remained with Sartak) were compelled to mount, the one behind the other, on the same horse, and thus follow their indefatigable and unfeeling conductor. Hard riding was not, however, the only hardship which they had to undergo. Thirst, and hunger, and cold were added to fatigue; for they were allowed but one meal per day, which they always ate in the evening, when their day’s journey was over. Their food, moreover, was not extremely palatable, consisting generally of the shoulder or ribs of some half-starved sheep, which, to increase the savouriness of its flavour, was cooked with ox and horse-dung, and devoured half-raw. As they advanced, their conductor, who at the commencement regarded them with great contempt, and appears to have been making the experiment whether hardship would kill them or not, grew reconciled to his charge, perceiving that they would not die, and introduced them as they proceeded to various powerful and wealthy Mongols, who seem to have treated them kindly, offering them, in return for their prayers, gold, and silver, and costly garments. The Hindoos, who imagine the East India Company to be an old woman, are a type of those sagacious Tartars, who, as Rubruquis assures us, supposed that the pope was an old man whose beard had been blanched by five hundred winters.

On the 31st of October, they turned their horses’ heads towards the south, and proceeded for eight days through a desert, where they beheld large droves of wild asses, which, like those seen by the Ten Thousand in Mesopotamia, were far too swift for the fleetest steeds. During the seventh day, they perceived on their right the glittering peaks of the Caucasus towering above the clouds, and arrived on the morrow at Kenkat, a Mohammedan town, where they tasted of wine, and that delicious liquor which the orientals extract from rice. At a city which Rubruquis calls Egaius, near Lake Baikal, he found traces of the Persian language; and shortly afterward entered the country of the Orrighers, an idolatrous, or at least a pagan race, who worshipped with their faces towards the north, while the east was at that period the Kableh, or praying-point of the Christians.

Our traveller, though far from being intolerant for his age, had not attained that pitch of humanity which teaches us to do to others as we would they should do unto us; for upon entering a temple, which, from his description, we discover to have been dedicated to Buddha, and finding the priests engaged in their devotions, he irreverently disturbed them by asking questions, and endeavouring to enter into conversation with them. The Buddhists, consistently with the mildness of their religion, rebuked this intrusion by the most obstinate silence, or by continual repetitions of the words “Om, Om! hactavi!” which, as he was afterward informed, signified, “Lord, Lord! thou knowest it!” These priests, like the bonzes of China, Ava, and Siam, shaved their heads, and wore flowing yellow garments, probably to show their contempt for the Brahminical race, among whom yellow is the badge of the most degraded castes. They believed in one God, and, like their Hindoo forefathers, burned their dead, and erected pyramids over their ashes.

Continuing their journey with their usual rapidity, they arrived on the last day of the year at the court of Mangou, who was encamped in a plain of immeasurable extent, and as level as the sea. Here, notwithstanding the rigour of the cold, Rubruquis, conformably to the rules of his order, went to court barefoot,—a piece of affectation for which he afterward suffered severely. Three or four days’ experience of the cold of Northern Tartary cured him of this folly, however; so that by the 4th of January, 1254, when he was admitted to an audience of Mangou, he was content to wear shoes like another person.

On entering the imperial tent, heedless of time and place, Rubruquis and his companion began to chant the hymn “A Solis Ortu,” which, in all probability made the khan, who understood not one word of what they said, and knew the meaning of none of their ceremonies, regard them as madmen. However, on this point nothing was said; only, before they advanced into the presence they were carefully searched, lest they should have concealed knives or daggers under their robes with which they might assassinate the khan. Even their interpreter was compelled to leave his belt and kharjar with the porter. Mare’s milk was placed on a low table near the entrance, close to which they were desired to seat themselves, upon a kind of long seat, or form, opposite the queen and her ladies. The floor was covered with cloth of gold, and in the centre of the apartment was a kind of open stove, in which a fire of thorns, and other dry sticks, mingled with cow-dung, was burning. The khan, clothed in a robe of shining fur, something resembling seal-skin, was seated on a small couch. He was a man of about forty-five, of middling stature, with a thick flat nose. His queen, a young and beautiful woman, was seated near him, together with one of his daughters by a former wife, a princess of marriageable age, and a great number of young children.

The first question put to them by the khan was, what they would drink; there being upon the table four species of beverage,—wine, cerasine, or rice-wine, milk, and a sort of metheglin. They replied that they were no great drinkers, but would readily taste of whatever his majesty might please to command; upon which the khan directed his cupbearer to place cerasine before them. The Turcoman interpreter, who was a man of very different mettle, and perhaps thought it a sin to permit the khan’s wine to lie idle, had meanwhile conceived a violent affection for the cupbearer, and had so frequently put his services in requisition, that whether he was in the imperial tent or in a Frank tavern was to him a matter of some doubt. Mangou himself had pledged his Christian guests somewhat too freely; and in order to allow his brain leisure to adjust itself, and at the same time to excite the wonder of the strangers by his skill in falconry, commanded various kinds of birds of prey to be brought, each of which he placed successively upon his hand, and considered with that steady sagacity which men a little touched with wine are fond of exhibiting.

Having assiduously regarded the birds long enough to evince his imperial contempt of politeness, Mangou desired the ambassadors to speak. Rubruquis obeyed, and delivered an harangue of some length, which, considering the muddy state of the interpreter’s brain and the extremely analogous condition of the khan’s, may very safely be supposed to have been dispersed, like the rejected prayers of the Homeric heroes, in empty air. In reply, as he wittily observes, Mangou made a speech, from which, as it was translated to him, the ambassador could infer nothing except that the interpreter was extremely drunk, and the emperor very little better. In spite of this cloudy medium, however, he imagined he could perceive that Mangou intended to express some displeasure at their having in the first instance repaired to the court of Sartak rather than to his; but observing that the interpreter’s brain was totally hostile to the passage of rational ideas, Rubruquis wisely concluded that silence would be his best friend on the occasion, and he accordingly addressed himself to that moody and mysterious power, and shortly afterward received permission to retire.

The ostensible object of Rubruquis was to obtain permission to remain in Mongolia for the purpose of preaching the Gospel; but whether this was merely a feint, or that the appearance of the country and people had cooled his zeal, it is certain that he did not urge the point very vehemently. However, the khan was easily prevailed upon to allow him to prolong his stay till the melting of the snows and the warm breezes of spring should render travelling more agreeable. In the mean while our ambassador employed himself in acquiring some knowledge of the people and the country; but the language, without which such knowledge must ever be superficial, he totally neglected.

About Easter the khan, with his family and smaller tents or pavilions, quitted the camp, and proceeded towards Karakorum, which might be termed his capital, for the purpose of examining a marvellous piece of jewelry in form of a tree, the production of a French goldsmith. This curious piece of mechanism was set up in the banqueting-hall of his palace, and from its branches, as from some miraculous fountain, four kinds of wines and other delicious cordials, gushed forth for the use of the guests. Rubruquis and his companions followed in the emperor’s train, traversing a mountainous and steril district, where tempests, bearing snow and intolerable cold upon their wings, swept and roared around them as they passed, piercing through their sheep-skins and other coverings to their very bones.

At Karakorum, a small city, which Rubruquis compares to the town of St. Denis, near Paris, our ambassador-missionary maintained a public disputation with certain pagan priests, in the presence of three of the khan’s secretaries, of whom the first was a Christian, the second a Mohammedan, and the third a Buddhist. The conduct of the khan was distinguished by the most perfect toleration, as he commanded under pain of death that none of the disputants should slander, traduce, or abuse his adversaries, or endeavour by rumours or insinuations to excite popular indignation against them; an act of mildness from which Rubruquis, with the illiberality of a monk, inferred that Mangou was totally indifferent to all religion. His object, however, seems to have been to discover the truth; but from the disputes of men who argued with each other through interpreters wholly ignorant of the subject, and none of whom could clearly comprehend the doctrines he impugned, no great instruction was to be derived. Accordingly, the dispute ended, as all such disputes must, in smoke; and each disputant retired from the field more fully persuaded than ever of the invulnerable force of his own system.

At length, perceiving that nothing was to be effected, and having, indeed, no very definite object to effect, excepting the conversion of the khan, which to a man who could not even converse with him upon the most ordinary topic, seemed difficult, Rubruquis took his leave of the Mongol court, and leaving his companion at Karakorum, turned his face towards the west. Returning by an easier or more direct route, he reached the camp of Batou in two months. From thence he proceeded to the city of Sarai on the Volga, and descending along the course of that river, entered Danghistan, crossed the Caucasus, and pursued his journey through Georgia, Armenia, and Asia Minor, to Syria.

Here he discovered that, taught by misfortune or yielding to the force of circumstances, the French king had relinquished, at least for the present, his mad project of recovering Palestine. He was therefore desirous of proceeding to Europe, for the purpose of rendering this prince an account of his mission; but this being contrary to the wishes of his superiors, who had assigned him the convent of Acra for his retreat, he contented himself with drawing up an account of his travels, which was forwarded, by the first opportunity that occurred, to St. Louis in France. Rubruquis then retired to his convent, in the gloom of whose cloisters he thenceforward concealed himself from the eyes of mankind. It has been ascertained, however, that he was still living in 1293, though the exact date of his death is unknown.

The work of Rubruquis was originally written in Latin, from which language a portion of it was translated into English and published by Hackluyt. Shortly afterward Purchas published a new version of the whole work in his collection. From this version Bergeron made his translation into French, with the aid of a Latin manuscript, which Vander Aa and the “Biographie Universelle” have multiplied into two. In all or any of these forms, the work may still be read with great pleasure and advantage by the diligent student of the opinions and manners of mankind.

MARCO POLO.

Born 1250.—Died 1324.

The relations of Ascelin, Carpini, and Rubruquis, which are supposed by some writers to have opened the way to the discoveries of the Polo family, are by no means entitled to so high an honour. Carpini did not return to Italy until the latter end of the year 1248; Ascelin’s return was still later; and although reports of the strange things they had beheld no doubt quickly reached Venice, these cannot be supposed to have exercised any very powerful influence in determining Nicolo and Maffio to undertake a voyage to Constantinople, the original place of their destination, from whence they were accidentally led on into the extremities of Tartary. With respect to Rubruquis, he commenced his undertaking three years after their departure from Venice, while they were in Bokhāra; and before his return to Palestine they had already penetrated into Cathay. The influence of the relations of these monks upon the movements of the Polos is therefore imaginary.

Nicolo and Maffio Polo, two noble Venetians engaged in commerce, having freighted a vessel with rich merchandise, sailed from Venice in the year 1250. Traversing the Mediterranean and the Bosphorus, they arrived in safety at Constantinople, Baldwin II. being then Emperor of the East. Here they disposed of their cargo, and purchasing rich jewels with the proceeds, crossed the Black Sea to Soldain, or Sudak, in the Crimea, from whence they travelled by land to the court of Barkah Khan, a Tartar prince, whose principal residences were the cities of Al-Serai, and Bolghar. To this khan they presented a number of their finest jewels, receiving gifts of still greater value in return. When they had spent a whole year in the dominions of Barkah, and were beginning to prepare for their return to Italy, hostilities suddenly broke out between the khan and his cousin Holagon; which, rendering unsafe all passages to the west, compelled them to make the circuit of the northern and eastern frontiers of Kipjak. Having escaped from the scene of war they crossed Gihon, and then traversing a desert of seventeen days’ journey, thinly sprinkled with the tents of the wandering tribes, they arrived at Bokhāra. Here they remained three years. At the termination of this period an ambassador from Holagon to Kublai Khan passing through Bokhāra, and happening accidentally to meet with the Polos, who had by this time acquired a competent knowledge of the Tartar language, was greatly charmed with their conversation and manners, and by much persuasion and many magnificent promises prevailed upon them to accompany him to Cambalu, or Khanbalik, in Cathay. A whole year was consumed in this journey. At length, however, they arrived at the court of the Great Khan, who received and treated them with peculiar distinction.

How long the brothers remained at Cambalu is not known; but their residence, whatever may have been its length, sufficed to impress Kublai Khan with an exalted opinion of their honour and capacity, so that when by the advice of his courtiers he determined on sending an embassy to the pope, Nicolo and Maffio were intrusted with the conduct of the mission. They accordingly departed from Cambalu, furnished with letters for the head of the Christian church, a passport or tablet of gold, empowering them to provide themselves with guides, horses, and provisions throughout the khan’s dominions, and accompanied by a Tartar nobleman. This Tartar falling exceedingly ill on the way, they proceeded alone, and, after three years of toil and dangers, arrived at Venice in 1269.

Nicolo, who, during the many years he had been absent, seems to have received no intelligence from home, now found that his wife, whom he had left pregnant at his departure, was dead, but that she had left him a son, named Marco, then nineteen years old. The pope, likewise, had died the preceding year; and various intrigues preventing the election of a successor, they remained in Italy two years, unable to execute the commission of the khan. At length, fearing that their long absence might be displeasing to Kublai, and perceiving no probability of a speedy termination to the intrigues of the conclave, they, in 1271, again set out for the East, accompanied by young Marco.

Arriving in Palestine, they obtained from the legate Visconti, then at Acre, letters testifying their fidelity to the Great Khan, and stating the fact that a new pope had not yet been chosen. At Al-Ajassi, in Armenia, however, they were overtaken by a messenger from Visconti, who wrote to inform them that he himself had been elected to fill the papal throne, and requested that they would either return, or delay their departure until he could provide them with new letters to the khan. As soon as these letters and the presents of his holiness arrived, they continued their journey, and passing through the northern provinces of Persia, were amused with the extraordinary history of the Assassins, then recently destroyed by a general of Holagon.

Quitting Persia, they proceeded through a rich and picturesque country to Balkh, a celebrated city, which they found in ruins and nearly deserted, its lofty walls and marble palaces having been levelled with the ground by the devastating armies of the Mongols. The country in the neighbourhood had likewise been depopulated, the inhabitants having taken refuge in the mountains from the rapacious cruelty of the predatory hordes, who roamed over the vast fields which greater robbers had reaped, gleaning the scanty plunder which had escaped their powerful predecessors. Though the land was well watered and fertile, and abounding in game, lions and other wild beasts had begun to establish their dominion over it, man having disappeared; and therefore, such travellers as ventured across this new wilderness were constrained to carry along with them all necessary provisions, nothing whatever being to be found on the way.

When they had passed this desert, they arrived in a country richly cultivated and covered with corn, to the south of which there was a ridge of high mountains, where such prodigious quantities of salt were found that all the world might have been supplied from those mines. The track of our travellers through the geographical labyrinth of Tartary it is impossible to follow. They appear to have been prevented by accidents from pursuing any regular course, in one place having their passage impeded by the overflowing of a river, and on other occasions being turned aside by the raging of bloody wars, by the heat or barrenness, or extent of deserts, or by their utter inability to procure guides through tracts covered with impervious forests or perilous morasses.

They next proceeded through a fertile country, inhabited by Mohammedans, to the town of Scasom, perhaps the Koukan of Arrowsmith, on the Sirr or Sihon. Numerous castles occupied the fastnesses of the mountains, while the shepherd tribes, like the troglodytes of old, dwelt with their herds and flocks in caverns scooped out of the rock. In three days’ journey from hence they reached the province of Balascia, or Balashghan, where, Marco falling sick, the party were detained during a whole year, a delay which afforded our illustrious traveller ample leisure for prosecuting his researches respecting this and the neighbouring countries. The kings of this petty sovereignty pretended to trace their descent from the Macedonian conqueror and the daughter of Darius; making up, by the fabulous splendour of their genealogy, for their want of actual power. The inhabitants were Mohammedans, and spoke a language peculiar to themselves. It was said, that not many years previous they had possessed a race of horses equally illustrious with their kings, being descended from Bucephalus; but as it was asserted that these noble animals possessed one great advantage over their kings, that of bearing upon their foreheads the peculiar mark which distinguished the great founder of their family, thus proving the purity of the breed, they very prudently added that the whole race had recently been exterminated.

This country was rich in minerals and precious stones, lead, copper, silver, lapis lazuli, and rubies abounding in the mountains. The climate was cold, and that of the plains insalubrious, engendering agues, which quickly yielded, however, to the bracing air of the hills; where Marco, after languishing for a whole year with this disorder, recovered his health in the course of a few days. The horses were large, strong, and swift, and had hoofs so tough that they could travel unshod over the most rocky places. Vast flocks of wild sheep, exceedingly difficult to be taken, were found in the hills.

Marco’s health being restored, our travellers resumed their journey towards Cathay, and proceeding in a north-easterly direction, arrived at the roots of a vast mountain, reported by the inhabitants to be the loftiest in the world. Having continued for three days ascending the steep approaches to this mountain, they reached an extensive table-land, hemmed in on both sides by still loftier mountains, and having a great lake in its centre. A fine river likewise flowed through it, and maintained so extraordinary a degree of fertility in the pastures upon its banks, that an ox or horse brought lean to these plains would become fat in ten days. Great numbers of wild animals were found here, among the rest a species of wild sheep with horns six spans in length, from which numerous drinking-vessels were made. This immense plain, notwithstanding its fertility, was uninhabited, and the severity of the cold prevented its being frequented by birds. Fire, too, it was asserted, did not here burn so brightly, or produce the same effect upon food, as in other places: an observation which has recently been made on the mountains of Savoy and Switzerland.

From this plain they proceeded along the foot of the Allak mountains to the country of Kashgar, which, possessing a fertile soil, and an industrious and ingenious population, was maintained in a high state of cultivation, and beautified with numerous gardens, orchards, and vineyards. From Kashgar they travelled to Yarkand, where the inhabitants, like those of the valleys of the Pyrenees, were subject to the goitres, or large wens upon the throat. To this province succeeded that of Khoten, whence our word cotton has been derived. The inhabitants of this country, an industrious but unwarlike race, were of the Mohammedan religion, and tributaries to the Great Khan. Proceeding in their south-easterly direction, they passed through the city of Peym, where, if a husband or wife were absent from home twenty days, the remaining moiety might marry again; and pursuing their course through sandy barren plains, arrived at the country of Sartem. Here the landscape was enlivened by numerous cities and castles; but when the storm of war burst upon them, the inhabitants, like the Arabs, relied upon famine as their principal weapon against the enemy, retiring with their wives, children, treasures, and provisions, into the desert, whither none could follow them. To secure their subsistence from plunder, they habitually scooped out their granaries in the depths of the desert, where, after harvest, they annually buried their corn in deep pits, over which the wind soon spread the wavy sand as before, obliterating all traces of their labours. They themselves, however, possessed some unerring index to the spot, which enabled them at all times to discover their hoards. Chalcedonies, jaspers, and other precious stones were found in the rivers of this province.

Here some insurmountable obstacle preventing their pursuing a direct course, they deviated towards the north, and in five days arrived at the city of Lop, on the border of the desert of the same name. This prodigious wilderness, the most extensive in Asia, could not, as was reported, be traversed from west to east in less than a year; while, proceeding from south to north, a month’s journey conducted the traveller across its whole latitude. Remaining some time at the city of Lop, or Lok, to make the necessary preparations for the journey, they entered the desert. In all those fearful scenes where man is constrained to compare his own insignificance with the magnificent and resistless power of the elements, legends, accommodated to the nature of the place, abound, peopling the frozen deep or the “howling wilderness” with poetical horrors superadded to those which actually exist. On the present occasion their Tartar companions, or guides, entertained our travellers with the wild tales current in the country. Having dwelt sufficiently upon the tremendous sufferings which famine or want of water sometimes inflicted upon the hapless merchant in those inhospitable wastes, they added, from their legendary stores, that malignant demons continually hovered in the cold blast or murky cloud which nightly swept over the sands. Delighting in mischief, they frequently exerted their supernatural powers in steeping the senses of travellers in delusion, sometimes calling them by their names, practising upon their sight, or, by raising up phantom shapes, leading them astray, and overwhelming them in the sands. Upon other occasions, the ears of the traveller were delighted with the sounds of music which these active spirits, like Shakspeare’s Ariel, scattered through the dusky air; or were saluted with that sweetest of all music, the voice of friends. Then, suddenly changing their mood, the beat of drums, the clash of arms, and a stream of footfalls, and of the tramp of hoofs, were heard, as if whole armies were marching past in the darkness. Such as were deluded by any of these arts, and separated, whether by night or day, from their caravan, generally lost themselves in the pathless wilds, and perished miserably of hunger. To prevent this danger, travellers kept close together, and suspended little bells about the necks of their beasts; and when any of their party unfortunately lagged behind, they carefully fixed up marks along their route, in order to enable them to follow.

Having safely traversed this mysterious desert, they arrived at the city of Shatcheu, on the Polonkir, in Tangut. Here the majority of the inhabitants were pagans and polytheists, and their various gods possessed numerous temples in different parts of the city. Marco, who was a diligent inquirer into the creed and religious customs of the nations he visited, discovered many singular traits of superstition at Shatcheu. When a son was born in a family, he was immediately consecrated to some one of their numerous gods; and a sheep, yeaned, perhaps, on the birthday of the child, was carefully kept and fed in the house during a whole year: at the expiration of which term both the child and the sheep were carried to the temple, and offered as a sacrifice to the god. The god, or, which was the same thing, the priests, accepted the sheep, which they could eat, in lieu of the boy, whom they could not; and the meat being dressed in the temple, that the deity might be refreshed with the sweet-smelling savour, was then conveyed to the father’s dwelling, where a sumptuous feast ensued, at which it may be safely inferred the servants of the temple were not forgotten. At all events, the priests received the head, feet, skin, and entrails, with a portion of the flesh, for their share. The bones were preserved, probably for purposes of divination.

Their exit from life was celebrated with as much pomp as their entrance into it. Astrologers, the universal pests of the east, were immediately consulted; and these, having learned the year, month, day, and hour in which the deceased was born, interrogated the stars, and by their mute but significant replies discovered the precise moment on which the interment was to take place. Sometimes these oracles of the sky became sullen, and for six months vouchsafed no answer to the astrologers, during all which time the corpse remained in a species of purgatory, uncertain of its doom. To prevent the dead from keeping the living in the same state, however, the body, having been previously embalmed, was enclosed in a coffin so artificially constructed that no offensive odour could escape; while, as the soul was supposed to hover all this while over its ancient tenement, and to require, as formerly, some kind of earthly sustenance, food was daily placed before the deceased, that the spirit might satisfy its appetite with the agreeable effluvia. When the day of interment arrived, the astrologers, who would have lost their credit had they always allowed things to proceed in a rational way, sometimes commanded the body to be borne out through an opening made for the purpose in the wall, professing to be guided in this matter by the stars, who, having no other employment, were extremely solicitous that all Tartars should be interred in due form. On the way from the house of the deceased to the cemetery, wooden cottages with porches covered with silk were erected at certain intervals, in which the coffin was set down before a table covered with bread, wine, and other delicacies, that the spirit might be refreshed with the savour. The procession was accompanied by all the musical instruments in the city; and along with the body were borne representations upon paper of servants of both sexes, horses, camels, money, and costly garments, all of which were consumed with the corpse on the funeral pile, instead of the realities, which, according to Herodotus, were anciently offered up as a sacrifice to the manes at the tombs of the Scythian chiefs.

Turning once more towards the north, they entered the fertile and agreeable province of Khamil, situated between the vast desert of Lop and another smaller desert, only three days’ journey across. The natives of this country, practical disciples of Aristippus, being of opinion that pleasure is happiness, seemed to live only for amusement, devoting the whole of their time to singing, dancing, music, and literature. Their hospitality, like that of the knights of chivalry, was so boundlessly profuse, that strangers were permitted to share, not only their board, but their bed, the master of a family departing when a guest arrived, in order to render him more completely at home with his wife and daughters. To increase the value of this extraordinary species of hospitality, it is added that the women of Khamil are beautiful, and as fully disposed as their lords to promote the happiness of their guests. Mangou Khan, the predecessor of Kublai, desirous of reforming the morals of his subjects, whatever might be the fate of his own, abolished this abominable custom; but years of scarcity and domestic afflictions ensuing, the people petitioned to have the right of following their ancestral customs restored to them. “Since you glory in your shame,” said Mangou to their ambassadors, “you may go and act according to your customs.” The flattering privilege was received with great rejoicings, and the practice, strange as it may be, has continued up to the present day.

Departing from this Tartarian Sybaris, they entered the province of Chinchintalas, a country thickly peopled, and rich in mines, but chiefly remarkable for that salamander species of linen, manufactured from the slender fibres of the asbestos, which was cleansed from stains by being cast into the fire. Then followed the district of Sucher, in the mountains of which the best rhubarb in the world was found. They next directed their course towards the north-east, and having completed the passage of the desert of Shomo, which occupied forty days, arrived at the city of Karakorum, compared by Rubruquis to the insignificant town of St. Denis, in France, but said by Marco Polo to have been three miles in circumference, and strongly fortified with earthen ramparts.

Our travellers now turned their faces towards the south, and traversing an immense tract of country which Marco considered unworthy of minute description, passed the boundaries of Mongolia, and entered Cathay. During this journey they travelled through a district in which were found enormous wild cattle, nearly approaching the size of the elephant, and clothed with a fine, soft, black and white hair, in many respects more beautiful than silk, specimens of which Marco procured and brought home with him to Venice on his return. Here, likewise, the best musk in the world was found. The animal from which it was procured resembled a goat in size, but in gracefulness and beauty bore a stronger likeness to the antelope, except that it had no horns. On the belly of this animal there appeared, every full moon, a small protuberance or excrescence, like a thin silken bag, filled with the liquid perfume; to obtain which the animal was hunted and slain. This bag was then severed from the body, and its contents, when dried, were distributed at an enormous price over the world, to scent the toilets and the persons of beauties in reality more sweet than itself.

Near Changanor, at another point of their journey, they saw one of the khan’s palaces, which was surrounded by beautiful gardens, containing numerous small lakes and rivulets and a prodigious number of swans. The neighbouring plains abounded in partridges, pheasants, and other game, among which are enumerated five species of cranes, some of a snowy whiteness, others with black wings, their feathers being ornamented with eyes like those of the peacock, but of a golden colour, with beautiful black and white necks. Immense flocks of quails and partridges were found in a valley near this city, where millet and other kinds of grain were sown for them by order of the khan, who likewise appointed a number of persons to watch over the birds, and caused huts to be erected in which they might take shelter and be fed by their keepers during the severity of the winter. By these means, the khan had at all times a large quantity of game at his command.

At Chandu, three days’ journey south-west of Changanor, they beheld the stupendous palace which Kublai Khan had erected in that city. Neither the dimensions nor the architecture are described by Marco Polo, but it is said to have been constructed, with singular art and beauty, of marble and other precious materials. The grounds of this palace, which were surrounded by a wall, were sixteen miles in circumference, and were beautifully laid out into meadows, groves, and lawns, watered by sparkling streams, and abundantly stocked with red and fallow deer, and other animals of the chase. In this park the khan had a mew of falcons, which, when at the palace, he visited once a week, and caused to be fed with the flesh of young fawns. Tame leopards were employed in hunting the stag, and, like the chattah, or tiger, used for the same purpose in the Carnatic, were carried out on horseback to the scene of action, and let loose only when the game appeared.

In the midst of a tall grove, there was an elegant pavilion, or summer-house, of wood, supported on pillars, and glittering with the richest gilding. Against each pillar stood the figure of a dragon, likewise richly gilt, with its tail curling round the shaft, its head touching the roof, and its wings extended on both sides through the intercolumniations. The roof was composed of split bamboos gilded and varnished, and so skilfully shelving over each other that no rain could ever penetrate between them. This beautiful structure could easily be taken to pieces or re-erected, like a tent, and, to prevent it from being overthrown by the wind, was fastened to the earth by two hundred silken ropes. At this palace the khan regularly spent the three summer months of June, July, and August, leaving it on the 28th of the last-named month, in order to proceed towards the south. Eight days previous to his departure, however, having solemnly consulted his astrologers, the khan annually offered sacrifice to the gods and spirits of the earth, the ceremony consisting in sprinkling a quantity of white mare’s milk upon the ground with his own hands, at the same time praying for the prosperity of his subjects, wives, and children. Kublai Khan was in no danger of wanting milk for this sacrifice, since he possessed a stud of horses, nearly ten thousand in number, all so purely white, that like certain Homeric steeds, they might, without vanity, have traced their origin to Boreas, the father of the snow. Indeed, much of this imperial nectar must have streamed in libations to mother earth on less solemn occasions; since none but persons of the royal race of Genghis Khan were permitted to drink of it, with the exception of one single family, named Boriat, to whom this distinguished privilege had been granted by Genghis for their prowess and valour.

Our travellers now drew near Cambalu, and the khan, having received intelligence of their approach, sent forth messengers to meet them at the distance of forty days’ journey from the imperial city, that they might be provided with all necessaries on the way, and conducted with every mark of honour and distinction to the capital. Upon their arrival, they were immediately presented to the khan; and having prostrated themselves upon the ground, according to the custom of the country, were commanded to rise, and most graciously received. When they had been kindly interrogated by the emperor respecting the fatigues and dangers they had encountered in his service, and had briefly related their proceedings with the pope and in Palestine, from whence, at the khan’s desire, they had brought a small portion of holy oil from the lamp of Christ’s sepulchre at Jerusalem, they received high commendations for their care and fidelity. Then the khan, observing Marco, inquired, “Who is this youth?”—“He is your majesty’s servant, and my son,” replied Nicolo. Kublai then received the young man with a smile, and, appointing him to some office about his person, caused him to be instructed in the languages and sciences of the country. Marco’s aptitude and genius enabled him to fulfil the wishes of the khan. In a very short time he acquired, by diligence and assiduity, a large acquaintance with the manners of the Mongols, and could speak and write fluently in four of the languages of the empire.

When Marco Polo appeared to have acquired the necessary degree of information, the khan, to make trial of his ability, despatched him upon an embassy to a city or chief called Karakhan, at the distance of six months’ journey from Cambalu. This difficult commission our traveller executed with ability and discretion; and in order still further to enhance the merit of his services in the estimation of his sovereign, he carefully observed the customs and manners of all the various tribes among whom he resided, and drew up a concise account of the whole in writing, which, together with a description of the new and curious objects he had beheld, he presented to the khan on his return. This, as he foresaw, greatly contributed to increase the favour of the prince towards him; and he continued to rise gradually from one degree of honour to another, until at length it may be doubted whether any individual in the empire enjoyed a larger portion of Kublai’s affection and esteem. Upon various occasions, sometimes upon the khan’s business, sometimes upon his own, he traversed all the territories and dependencies of the empire, everywhere possessing the means of observing whatever he considered worth notice, his authority and the imperial favour opening the most secluded and sacred places to his scrutiny.

As our traveller has not thought proper, however, to describe these various journeys chronologically, or, indeed, to determine with any degree of exactness when any one of them took place, we are at liberty, in recording his peregrinations, to adopt whatever arrangement we please; and it being indisputable that Northern China was the first part of Kublai’s dominions, properly so called, which he entered, it appears most rational to commence the history of his Chinese travels with an outline of what he saw in that division of the empire.

The khan himself, whose profuse munificence enabled Marco Polo to perform with pleasure and comfort his long and numerous expeditions, was a fine handsome man of middle stature, with a fresh complexion, bright black eyes, a well-formed nose, and a form every way well proportioned. He had four wives, each of whom had the title of empress, and possessed her own magnificent palace, with a separate court, consisting of three hundred maids of honour, a large number of eunuchs, and a suite amounting at least to ten thousand persons. He, moreover, possessed a numerous harem besides his wives; and in order to keep up a constant supply of fresh beauties, messengers were despatched every two years into a province of Tartary remarkable for the beauty of its women, and therefore set apart as a nursery for royal concubines, to collect the finest among the daughters of the land for the khan. As the inhabitants of this country considered it an honour to breed mistresses for their prince, the “elegans formarum spectator” had no difficulty in finding whatever number of young women he desired, and generally returned to court with at least five hundred in his charge. So vast an army of women were not, however, marched all at once into the khan’s harem. Examiners were appointed to fan away the chaff from the corn,—that is, to discover whether any of these fair damsels snored in their sleep, had an unsavoury smell, or were addicted to any mischievous or disagreeable tricks in their behaviour. Such, says the traveller, as were finally approved were divided into parties of five, and one such party attended in the chamber of the khan during three days and three nights in their turn, while another party waited in an adjoining apartment to prepare whatever the others might command them. The girls of inferior charms were employed in menial offices about the palace, or were bestowed in marriage, with large portions, upon the favoured officers of the khan.

The number of the khan’s family, though not altogether answerable to this vast establishment of women, was respectable,—consisting of forty-seven sons, of whom twenty-two were by his wives, and all employed in offices of trust and honour in the empire. Of the number of his daughters we are not informed.

The imperial city of Cambalu, the modern Peking, formed the residence of the khan during the months of December, January, and February. The palace of Kublai stood in the midst of a prodigious park, thirty-two miles in circumference, surrounded by a lofty wall and deep ditch. This enclosure, like all Mongol works of the kind, was square, and each of its four sides was pierced by but one gate, so that between gate and gate there was a distance of eight miles. Within this vast square stood another, twenty-four miles in circumference, the walls being equidistant from those of the outer square, and pierced on the northern and southern sides by three gates, of which the centre one, loftier and more magnificent than the rest, was reserved for the khan alone. At the four corners, and in the centre of each face of the inner square, were superb and spacious buildings, which were royal arsenals for containing the implements and machinery of war, such as horse-trappings, long and crossbows and arrows, helmets, cuirasses, leather armour, &c. Marco Polo makes no mention of artillery or of firearms of any kind, from which it may be fairly inferred that the use of gunpowder, notwithstanding the vain pretensions of the modern Chinese, was unknown to their ancestors of the thirteenth century; for it is inconceivable that so intelligent and observant a traveller as Marco Polo should have omitted all mention of so stupendous an invention, had it in his age been known either to the Chinese or their conquerors. Indeed, though certainly superior in civilization and the arts of life to the nations of Europe, they appear to have been altogether inferior in the science of destruction; for when Sian-fu had for three years checked the arms of Kublai Khan in his conquest of Southern China, the Tartars were compelled to have recourse to the ingenuity of Nicolo and Maffio Polo, who, constructing immense catapults capable of casting stones of three hundred pounds’ weight, enabled them, by battering down the houses and shaking the walls as with an earthquake, to terrify the inhabitants into submission.

To return, however, to the description of the palace. The space between the first and second walls was bare and level, and appropriated to the exercising of the troops. But having passed the second wall, you discovered an immense park, resembling the paradises of the ancient Persian kings, stretching away on all sides into green lawns, dotted and broken into long sunny vistas or embowered shades by numerous groves of trees, between the rich and various foliage of which the glittering pinnacles and snow-white battlements of the palace walls appeared at intervals. The palace itself was a mile in length, but, not being of corresponding height, had rather the appearance of a vast terrace or range of buildings than of one structure. Its interior was divided into numerous apartments, some of which were of prodigious dimensions and splendidly ornamented; the walls being covered with figures of men, birds, and animals in exquisite relief and richly gilt. A labyrinth of carving, gilding, and the most brilliant colours, red, green, and blue, supplied the place of a ceiling; and the united effect of the whole oppressed the soul with a sense of painful splendour. On the north of this poetical abode, which rivalled in vastness and magnificence the Olympic domes of Homer, stood an artificial hill, a mile in circumference and of corresponding height, which was skilfully planted with evergreen trees, which the Great Khan had caused to be brought from remote places, with all their roots, on the backs of elephants. At the foot of this hill were two beautiful lakes imbosomed in trees, and filled with a multitude of delicate fish.

That portion of the imperial city which had been erected by Kublai Khan was square, like his palace. It was less extensive, however, than the royal grounds, being only twenty-four miles in circumference. The streets were all straight, and six miles in length, and the houses were erected on each side, with courts and gardens, like palaces. At a certain hour of the night, a bell, like the curfew of the Normans, was sounded in the city, after which it was not lawful for any person to go out of doors unless upon the most urgent business; for example, to procure assistance for a woman in labour; in which case, however, they were compelled to carry torches before them, from which we may infer that the streets were not lighted with lamps. Twelve extensive suburbs, inhabited by foreign merchants and by tradespeople, and more populous than the city itself, lay without the walls.

The money current in China at this period was of a species of paper fabricated from the middle bark of the mulberry-tree, and of a round form. To counterfeit, or to refuse this money in payment, or to make use of any other was a capital offence. The use of this money, which within the empire was as good as any other instrument of exchange, enabled the khan to amass incredible quantities of the precious metals and of all the other toys which delight civilized man. Great public roads, which may be enumerated among the principal instruments of civilization, radiated from Peking, or Cambalu, towards all the various provinces of the empire, and by the enlightened and liberal regulations of the khan, not only facilitated in a surprising manner the conveyance of intelligence, but likewise afforded to travellers and merchants a safe and commodious passage from one province to another. On each of these great roads were inns at the distance of twenty-five or thirty miles, amply furnished with chambers, beds, and provisions, and four hundred horses, of which one half were constantly kept saddled in the stables, ready for use, while the other moiety were grazing in the neighbouring fields. In deserts and mountainous steril districts where there were no inhabitants, the khan established colonies to cultivate the lands, where that was possible, and provide provisions for the ambassadors and royal messengers who possessed the privilege of using the imperial horses and the public tables. In the night these messengers were lighted on their way by persons running before them with torches; and when they approached a posthouse, of which there were ten thousand in the empire, they sounded a horn, as our mail and stage coaches do, to inform the inmates of their coming, that no delay might be experienced. By this means, one of these couriers sometimes travelled two hundred or two hundred and fifty miles in a day. In desolate and uninhabited places, the courses of the roads were marked by trees which had been planted for the purpose; and in places where nothing would vegetate, by stones or pillars.

The manners, customs, and opinions of the people, though apparently considered by Marco Polo as less important than what regarded the magnificence and greatness of the khan, commanded a considerable share of our traveller’s attention. The religion of Buddha, whose mysterious doctrines have eluded the grasp of the most comprehensive minds even up to the present moment, he could not be expected to understand; but its great leading tenets, the unity of the supreme God, the immortality of the soul, the metempsychosis, and the final absorption of the virtuous in the essence of the Divinity, are distinctly announced. The manners of the Tartars were mild and refined; their temper cheerful; their character honest. Filial affection was assiduously cultivated, and such as were wanting in this virtue were condemned to severe punishment by the laws. Three years’ imprisonment was the usual punishment for heinous offences; but the criminals were marked upon the cheek when set at liberty, that they might be known and avoided.

Agriculture has always commanded a large share of the attention of the Chinese. The whole country for many days’ journey west of Cambalu was covered with a numerous population, distinguished for their ingenuity and industry. Towns and cities were numerous, the fields richly cultivated, and interspersed with vineyards or plantations of mulberry-trees. On approaching the banks of the Hoang-ho, which was so broad and deep that no bridges could be thrown over it from the latitude of Cambalu to the ocean, the fields abounded with ginger and silk; and game, particularly pheasants, were so abundant, that three of these beautiful birds might be purchased for a Venetian groat. The margin of the river was clothed with large forests of bamboos, the largest, tallest, and most useful of the cane species. Crossing the Hoang-ho, and proceeding for two days in a westerly direction, you arrived at the city of Karianfu, situated in a country fertile in various kinds of spices, and remarkable for its manufactories of silk and cloth of gold.

This appears to have been the route pursued by Marco Polo when proceeding as the emperor’s ambassador into Western Tibet. Having travelled for ten days through plains of surpassing beauty and fertility, thickly sprinkled with cities, castles, towns, and villages, shaded by vast plantations of mulberry-trees, and cultivated like a garden, he arrived in the mountainous district of the province of Chunchian, which abounded with lions, bears, stags, roebucks, and wolves. The country through which his route now lay was an agreeable succession of hill, valley, and plain, adorned and improved by art, or reluctantly abandoned to the rude but sublime fantasies of nature.

On entering Tibet, indelible traces of the footsteps of war everywhere smote upon his eye. The whole country had been reduced by the armies of the khan to a desert; the city, the cheerful village, the gilded and gay-looking pagoda, the pleasant homestead, and the humble and secluded cottage, having been overthrown, and their smoking ruins trampled in the dust, had now been succeeded by interminable forests of swift-growing bamboos, from between whose thick and knotty stems the lion, the tiger, and other ferocious animals rushed out suddenly upon the unwary traveller. Not a soul appeared to cheer the eye, or offer provisions for money. All around was stillness and utter desolation. And at night, when they desired to taste a little repose, it was necessary to kindle an immense fire, and heap upon it large quantities of green reeds, which, by the crackling and hissing noise which they made in burning, might frighten away the wild beasts.

This pestilential desert occupied him twenty days in crossing, after which human dwellings, and other signs of life, appeared. The manners of the people among whom he now found himself were remarkably obscene and preposterous. Improving upon the superstitious libertinism of the ancient Babylonians, who sacrificed the modesty of their wives and daughters in the temple of Astarte once in their lives, these Tibetians invariably prostituted their young women to all strangers and travellers who passed through their country, and made it a point of honour never to marry a woman until she could exhibit numerous tokens of her incontinence. Thieving, like want of chastity, was among them no crime; and, although they had begun to cultivate the earth, they still derived their principal means of subsistence from the chase. Their clothing was suitable to their manners, consisting of the skins of wild beasts, or of a kind of coarse hempen garment, less comfortable, perhaps, and still more uncouth to sight. Though subject to China, as it is to this day, the paper money, current through all other parts of the empire, was not in use here; nor had they any better instrument of exchange than small pieces of coral, though their mountains abounded with mines of the precious metals, while gold was rolled down among mud and pebbles through the beds of their torrents. Necklaces of coral adorned the persons of their women and their gods, their earthly and heavenly idols being apparently rated at the same value. In hunting, enormous dogs, nearly the size of asses, were employed.

Still proceeding towards the west, he traversed the province of Kaindu, formerly an independent kingdom, in which there was an extensive salt-lake, so profusely abounding with white pearls, that to prevent their price from being immoderately reduced, it was forbidden, under pain of death, to fish for them without a license from the Great Khan. The turquoise mines found in this province were under the same regulations. The gadderi, or musk deer, was found here in great numbers, as were likewise lions, bears, stags, ounces, deer, and roebucks. The clove, extremely plentiful in Kaindu, was gathered from small trees not unlike the bay-tree in growth and leaves, though somewhat longer and straighter: its flowers were white, like those of the jasmin. Here manners were regulated by nearly the same principles as in the foregoing province, strangers assuming the rights of husbands in whatever houses they rested on their journey. Unstamped gold, issued by weight, and small solid loaves of salt, marked with the seal of the khan, were the current money.

Traversing the province of Keraian, of which little is said, except that its inhabitants were pagans, and spoke a very difficult language, our traveller next arrived at the city of Lassa, situated on the Dom or Tama river, a branch of the Bramahpootra. This celebrated and extensive city, the residence of the Dalai, or Great Lama, worshipped by the natives as an incarnation of the godhead, was then the resort of numerous merchants, and the centre of an active and widely-diffused commerce. Complete religious toleration prevailed, pagans, Mohammedans, and Christians dwelling together apparently in harmony; the followers of the established religion, a modification of Buddhism, being however by far the most numerous. Though corn was here plentiful, the inhabitants made no use of any other bread than that of rice, which they considered the most wholesome; and their wine, which was flavoured with several kinds of spices, and exceedingly pleasant, they likewise manufactured from the same grain. Cowries seem to have been used for money. The inhabitants, like the Abyssinians, ate the flesh of the ox, the buffalo, and the sheep raw, though they do not appear to have cut their steaks from the living animals. Here, as elsewhere in Tibet, women were subjected, under certain conditions, to the embraces of strangers.

From Lassa, Marco Polo proceeded to the province of Korazan, where veins of solid gold were found in the mountains, and washed down to the plains by the waters of the rivers. Cowries were here the ordinary currency. Among the usual articles of food was the flesh of the crocodile, which was said to be very delicate. The inhabitants carried on an active trade in horses with India. In their wars they made use of targets and other defensive armour, manufactured, like the shields of many of the Homeric heroes, from tough bull or buffalo hide. Their arms consisted of lances or spears, and crossbows, from which, like genuine savages, they darted poisonous arrows at their foes. When taken prisoners, they frequently escaped from the evils of servitude by self-slaughter, always bearing about their persons, like Mithridates and Demosthenes, a concealed poison, by which they could at any time open themselves a way to Pluto. Previous to the Mongol conquests, these reckless savages were in the habit of murdering in their sleep such strangers or travellers as happened to pass through their country, from the superstitious belief, it is said, that the good qualities of the dead would devolve upon those who killed them, of which it must be confessed they stood in great need; and perhaps from the better grounded conviction that they should thus, at all events, become the undoubted heirs of their wealth.

Journeying westward for five days our traveller arrived at the province of Kardandan, where the current money were cowries brought from India, and gold in ingots. Gold was here so plentiful that it was exchanged for five times its weight in silver; and the inhabitants, who had probably been subject to the toothache, were in the habit of covering their teeth with thin plates of this precious metal, which, according to Marco, were so nicely fitted that the teeth appeared to be of solid gold. The practice of tattooing, which seems to have prevailed at one time or other over the whole world, was in vogue here, men being esteemed in proportion as their skins were more disfigured. Riding, hunting, and martial exercises occupied the whole time of the men, while the women, aided by the slaves who were purchased or taken in war, performed all the domestic labours. Another strange custom, the cause and origin of which, though it has prevailed in several parts of the world, is hidden in obscurity, obtained here; when a woman had been delivered of a child, she immediately quitted her bed, and having washed the infant, placed it in the hands of her husband, who, lying down in her stead, personated the sick person, nursed the child, and remained in bed six weeks, receiving the visits and condolences of his friends and neighbours. Meanwhile the woman bestirred herself, and performed her usual duties as if nothing had happened. Marco Polo could discover nothing more of the religious opinions of this people than that they worshipped the oldest man in their family, probably as the representative of the generative principle of nature. Broken, rugged, and stupendous mountains, no doubt the Himmalaya, rendered this wild country nearly inaccessible to strangers, who were further deterred by a report that a fatal miasma pervaded the air, particularly in summer. The knowledge of letters had not penetrated into this region, and all contracts and obligations were recorded by tallies of wood, as small accounts are still kept in Normandy, and other rude provinces of Europe.

Ignorance, priestcraft, and magic being of one family, and thriving by each other, are always found together. These savages, like Lear, had thrown “physic to the dogs;” and when attacked by disease preferred the priest or the magician to the doctor. The priests, hoping to drive disease out of their neighbour’s body by admitting the Devil into their own, repaired, when called upon, to the chamber of the sick person; and there sung, danced, leaped, and raved, until a demon, in the language of the initiated, or, in other words, weariness, seized upon them, when they discontinued their violent gestures, and consented to be interrogated. Their answer, of course, was, that the patient had offended some god, who was to be propitiated with sacrifice, which consisted partly in offering up a portion of the patient’s blood, not to the goddess Phlebotomy, as with us, but to some member of the Olympian synod whose fame has not reached posterity. In addition to this, a certain number of rams with black heads were sacrificed, their blood sprinkled in the air for the benefit of the gods, and a great number of candles having been lighted up, and the house thoroughly perfumed with incense and wood of aloes, the priests sat down with their wives and families to dinner; and if after all this the sick man would persist in dying, it was no fault of theirs. Destiny alone was to blame.

The next journey which Marco Polo undertook, after his return from Tibet, was into the kingdom of Mangi, or Southern China, subdued by the arms of the khan in 1269. Fanfur, the monarch, who had reigned previous to the irruption of the Mongols, is represented as a mild, beneficent, and peaceful prince, intent upon maintaining justice and internal tranquillity in his dominions; but wanting in energy, and neglectful of the means of national defence. During the latter years of his reign he had abandoned himself, like another Sardanapalus, to sensuality and voluptuousness; though, when the storm of war burst upon him, he exhibited far less magnanimity than that Assyrian Sybarite; flying pusillanimously to his fleet with all his wealth, and relinquishing the defence of the capital to his queen, who, as a woman, had nothing to fear from the cruelty of the conqueror. A foolish story, no doubt invented after the fall of the city, is said to have inspired the queen with confidence, and encouraged her to resist the besiegers: the soothsayers, or haruspices, had assured Fanfur, in the days of his prosperity, that no man not possessing a hundred eyes should ever deprive him of his kingdom. Learning, however, with dismay that the name of the Tartar general now besieging the place signified “the Hundred-eyed,” she perceived the fulfilment of the prediction, and surrendered up the city. Kublai Khan, agreeably to the opinion of Fanfur, conducted himself liberally towards the captive queen; who, being conveyed to Cambalu, was received and treated in a manner suitable to her former dignity. The dwarf-minded emperor died about a year after, a fugitive and a vagabond upon the earth.

The capital of Southern China, called Quinsai, or Kinsai, by Marco Polo, a name signifying the “Celestial City,” was a place of prodigious magnitude, being, according to the reports of the Chinese, not less than one hundred miles in circumference. This rough estimate of the extent of Kinsai, though beyond doubt considerably exaggerated, is after all not so very incredible as may at first appear. Within this circumference, if the place was constructed after the usual fashion of a Chinese city, would be included parks and gardens of immense extent, vast open spaces for the evolutions of the troops, besides the ten market-places, each two miles in circumference, mentioned by Marco Polo, and many other large spaces not covered with houses. By these means Kinsai might have been nearly one hundred miles in circuit, without approaching London in riches or population. That modern travellers have found no trace of such amazing extent in Hang-chen, Kua-hing, or whatever city they determine Kinsai to have been, by no means invalidates the assertion of Marco Polo; for considering the revolutions which China has undergone, and the perishable materials of the ordinary dwellings of its inhabitants, we may look upon the space of nearly six hundred years as more than sufficient to have changed the site of Kinsai into a desert. Were the seat of government to be removed from Calcutta to Agra or Delhi, the revolution of one century would reduce that “City of Palaces,” to a miserable village, or wholly bury it in the pestilential bog from which its sumptuous but perishable edifices originally rose like an exhalation.

I will suppose, therefore, in spite of geographical skepticism, that Kinsai fell very little short of the magnitude which the Chinese, not Marco Polo, attributed to it. The city was nearly surrounded by water, having on one side a great river, and on the other side a lake, while innumerable canals, intersecting it in all directions, rendered the very streets navigable, as it were, like those of Venice, and floated away all filth into the channel of the river. Twelve thousand bridges, great and small, were thrown over these canals, beneath which barks, boats, and barges, bearing a numerous aquatic population, continually passed to and fro; while horsemen dashed along, and chariots rolled from street to street, above. Three days in every week the peasantry from all the country round poured into the city, to the number of forty or fifty thousand, bringing in the productions of the earth, with cattle, fowls, game, and every species of provision necessary for the subsistence of so mighty a population. Though provisions were so cheap, however, that two geese, or four ducks, might be purchased for a Venetian groat, the poor were reduced to so miserable a state of wretchedness that they gladly devoured the flesh of the most unclean animals, and every species of disgusting offal. The markets were supplied with an abundance of most kinds of fruit, among which a pear of peculiar fragrance, and white and gold peaches, were the most exquisite. Raisins and wine were imported from other provinces; but from the ocean, which was no more than twenty-five miles distant, so great a profusion of fish was brought, that, at first sight, it seemed as if it could never be consumed, though it all disappeared in a few hours.

Around the immense market-places were the shops of the jewellers and spice-merchants; and in the adjoining streets were numerous hot and cold baths, with all the apparatus which belong to those establishments in eastern countries. These places, as the inhabitants bathed every day, were well frequented, and the attendants accustomed to the business from their childhood exceedingly skilful in the performance of their duties. A trait which marks the voluptuous temperament of the Chinese occurs in the account of this city. An incredible number of courtesans, splendidly attired, perfumed, and living with a large establishment of servants in spacious and magnificent houses, were found at Kinsai; and, like their sisters in ancient Greece, were skilled in all those arts which captivate and enslave enervated minds. The tradesmen possessed great wealth, and appeared in their shops sumptuously dressed in silks, in addition to which their wives adorned themselves with costly jewels. Their houses were well built, and contained pictures and other ornaments of immense value. In their dealings they were remarkable for their integrity, and great suavity and decorum appeared in their manners. Notwithstanding the gentleness of their disposition, however, their hatred of their Mongol conquerors, who had deprived them of their independence and the more congenial rule of their native princes, was not to be disguised.

All the streets were paved with stone, while the centre was macadamized, a mark of civilization not yet to be found in Paris, or many other European capitals, any more than the cleanliness which accompanied it. Hackney-coaches with silk cushions, public gardens, and shady walks were among the luxuries of the people of Kinsai; while, as Mr. Kerr very sensibly remarks, the delights of European capitals were processions of monks among perpetual dunghills in narrow crooked lanes. Still, in the midst of all this wealth and luxury, poverty and tremendous suffering existed, compelling parents to sell their children, and when no buyers appeared, to expose them to death. Twenty thousand infants thus deserted were annually snatched from destruction by the Emperor Fanfur, and maintained and educated until they could provide for themselves.

Marco Polo’s opportunities for studying the customs and manners of this part of the empire were such as no other European has ever enjoyed, as, through the peculiar affection of the Great Khan, he was appointed governor of one of its principal cities, and exercised this authority during three years. Yet, strange to say, he makes no mention of tea, and alludes only once, and that but slightly, to the manufacture of porcelain. These omissions, however, are in all probability not to be attributed to him, but to the heedlessness or ignorance of transcribers and copyists, who, not knowing what to make of the terms, boldly omitted them. The most remarkable manufacture of porcelain in his time appears to have been at a city which he calls Trinqui, situated on one branch of the river which flowed to Zaitum, supposed to be the modern Canton. Here he was informed a certain kind of earth or clay was thrown up into vast conical heaps, where it remained exposed to the action of the atmosphere for thirty or forty years, after which, refined, as he says, by time, it was manufactured into dishes, which were painted and baked in furnaces.

Having now remained many years in China, the Polos began to feel the desire of revisiting their home revive within their souls; and this desire was strengthened by reflecting upon the great age of the khan, in the event of whose death it was possible they might never be able to depart from the country, at least with the amazing wealth which they had amassed during their long residence. One day, therefore, when they observed Kublai to be in a remarkably good-humour, Nicolo, who seems to have enjoyed a very free access to the chamber of the sovereign, ventured to entreat permission to return home with his family. The khan, however, who, being himself at home, could comprehend nothing of that secret and almost mysterious power by which man is drawn back from the remotest corners of the earth towards the scene of his childhood, and who, perhaps, imagined that gold could confer irresistible charms upon any country, was extremely displeased at the request. He had, in fact, become attached to the men, and his unwillingness to part with them was as natural as their desire to go. To turn them from all thoughts of the undertaking, he dwelt upon the length and danger of the journey; and added, that if more wealth was what they coveted, they had but to speak, and he would gratify their utmost wishes, by bestowing upon them twice as much as they already possessed; but that his affection would not allow him to part with them.

Providence, however, which under the name of chance or accident so frequently befriends the perplexed, now came to their aid. Not long after the unsuccessful application of Nicolo, ambassadors arrived at the court of the Great Khan, from Argûn, Sultan of Persia, demanding a princess of the imperial blood for their master, whose late queen on her deathbed had requested him to choose a wife from among her relations in Cathay. Kublai consented; and the ambassadors departed with a youthful princess on their way to Persia. When they had proceeded eight months through the wilds of Tartary, their course was stopped by bloody wars; and they were constrained to return with the princess to the court of the khan. Here they heard of Marco, who had likewise just returned from an expedition into India by sea, describing the facility which navigation afforded of maintaining an intercourse between that country and China. The ambassadors now procured an interview with the Venetians, who consented, if the permission of the khan could be obtained, to conduct them by sea to the dominions of their sovereign. With great reluctance the khan at length yielded to their solicitation; and having commanded Nicolo, Maffio, and Marco into his presence, and lavished upon them every possible token of his affection and esteem, constituting them his ambassadors to the pope and the other princes of Europe, he caused a tablet of gold to be delivered to them, upon which were engraven his commands that they should be allowed free and secure passage through all his dominions; that all their expenses, as well as those of their attendants, should be defrayed; and that they should be provided with guides and escorts wherever these might be necessary. He then exacted from them a promise that when they should have passed some time in Christendom among their friends, they would return to him, and affectionately dismissed them.

Fourteen ships with four masts, of which four or five were so large that they carried from two hundred and fifty to two hundred and sixty men, were provided for their voyage; and on board of this fleet they embarked with the queen and the ambassadors, and sailed away from China. It was probably from the officers of these ships, or from those with whom he had made his former voyage to India, that Marco Polo learned what little he knew of the great island of Zipangri or Japan. It was about fifteen hundred miles distant, as he was informed, from the shores of China. The people were fair, gentle in their manners, and governed by their own princes. Gold, its exportation being prohibited, was plentiful among them; so plentiful, indeed, that the roof of the prince’s palace was covered with it, as churches in Europe sometimes are with lead, while the windows and floors were of the same metal. The prodigious opulence of this country tempted the ambition or rapacity of Kublai Khan, who with a vast fleet and army attempted to annex it with his empire, but without success. It was Marco’s brief description of this insular El Dorado which is supposed to have kindled the spirit of discovery and adventure in the great soul of Columbus. Gentle as the manners of the Japanese are said to have been, neither they nor the Chinese themselves could escape the charge of cannibalism, which appears to be among barbarians what heresy was in Europe during the middle ages, the crime of which every one accuses his bitterest enemy. The innumerable islands scattered through the surrounding ocean were said to abound with spices and groves of odoriferous wood.

The vast islands and thickly-sprinkled archipelagoes which rear up their verdant and scented heads among the waters of the Indian ocean, now successively presented themselves to the observant eye of our traveller, and appeared like another world. Ziambar, with its woods of ebony; Borneo, with its spices and its gold; Lokak, with its sweet fruits, its Brazil wood, and its elephants;—these were the new and strange countries at which they touched on the way to Java the less, or Sumatra. This island, which he describes as two thousand miles in circumference, was divided into eight kingdoms, six of which he visited and curiously examined. Some portion of the inhabitants had been converted to Mohammedanism; but numerous tribes still roamed in a savage state among the mountains, feeding upon human flesh and every unclean animal, and worshipping as a god the first object which met their eyes in the morning. Among one of these wild races a very extraordinary practice prevailed: whenever any individual was stricken with sickness, his relations immediately inquired of the priests or magicians whether he would recover or not; and if answered in the negative, the patient was instantly strangled, cut in pieces, and devoured, even to the very marrow of the bones. This, they alleged, was to prevent the generation of worms in any portion of the body, which, by gnawing and defacing it, would torture the soul of the dead. The bones were carefully concealed in the caves of the mountains. Strangers, from the same humane motive, were eaten in an equally friendly way.

Here were numerous rhinoceroses, camphor, which sold for its weight in gold, and lofty trees, ten or twelve feet in circumference, from the pith of which a kind of meal was made. This pith, having been broken into pieces, was cast into vessels filled with water, where the light innutritious parts floated upon the top, while the finer and more solid descended to the bottom. The former was skimmed off and thrown away, but the latter, in taste not unlike barley-bread, was wrought into a kind of paste, and eaten. This was the sago, the first specimen of which ever seen in Europe was brought to Venice by Marco Polo. The wood of the tree, which was heavy and sunk in water like iron, was used in making spears.

From Sumatra they sailed to the Nicobar and Andaman islands, the natives of which were naked and bestial savages, though the country produced excellent cloves, cocoanuts, Brazil wood, red and white sandal wood, and various kinds of spices. They next touched at Ceylon, which appeared to Marco Polo, and not altogether without reason, to be the finest island in the world. Here no grain, except rice, was cultivated; but the country produced a profusion of oil, sesamum, milk, flesh, palm wine, sapphires, topazes, amethysts, and the best rubies in the world. Of this last kind of gem the King of Ceylon was said to possess the finest specimen in existence, the stone being as long as a man’s hand, of corresponding thickness, and glowing like fire. The wonders of Adam’s Peak Marco Polo heard of, but did not behold. His account of the pearl-fishery he likewise framed from report.

From Ceylon they proceeded towards the Persian Gulf, touching in their way upon the coast of the Carnatic, where Marco learned some particulars respecting the Hindoos; as, that they were an unwarlike people, who imported horses from Ormus, and generally abstained from beef; that their rich men were carried about in palankeens; and that from motives of the origin of which he was ignorant, every man carefully preserved his own drinking-vessels from the touch of another.

At length, after a voyage of eighteen months, they arrived in the dominions of Argûn, but found that that prince was dead, the heir to the throne a minor, and the functions of government exercised by a regent. They delivered the princess, who was now nearly nineteen, to Kazan, the son of Argûn; and having been magnificently entertained for nine months by the regent, who presented them at parting with four tablets of gold, each a cubit long and five fingers broad, they continued their journey through Kurdistan and Mingrelia, to Trebizond, where they embarked upon the Black Sea; and, sailing down the Bosphorus and Dardanelles, crossed the Ægean, touched at Negropont, and arrived safely at Venice, in the year 1295.

On repairing to their own house, however, in the street of St. Chrysostom, they had the mortification to find themselves entirely forgotten by all their old acquaintance and countrymen; and even their nearest relations, who upon report of their death had taken possession of their palace, either could not or would not recognise them. Forty-five years had no doubt operated strange changes in the persons of Nicolo and Maffio; and even Marco, who had left his home in the flower of his youth, and now returned after an absence of twenty-four years, a middle-aged man, storm-beaten, and bronzed by the force of tropical suns, must have been greatly altered. Besides, they had partly forgotten their native language, which they pronounced with a barbarous accent, intermingling Tartar words, and setting the rules of syntax at defiance. Their dress, air, and demeanour, likewise, were Tartarian. To convince the incredulous, however, and prove their identity, they invited all their relations and old associates to a magnificent entertainment, at which the three travellers appeared attired in rich eastern habits of crimson satin. When all the guests were seated, the Polos put off their satin garments, which they bestowed upon the attendants, still appearing superbly dressed in robes of crimson damask. At the removal of the last course but one of the entertainment, they distributed their damask garments also upon the attendants, these having merely concealed far more magnificent robes of crimson velvet. When dinner was over, and the attendants had withdrawn, Marco Polo exhibited to the company the coats of coarse Tartarian cloth, or felt, which his father, his uncle, and himself had usually worn during their travels. These he now cut open, and from their folds and linings took out so prodigious a quantity of rubies, sapphires, emeralds, carbuncles, and diamonds, that the company, amazed and delighted with the beauty and splendour of these magnificent and invaluable gems, no longer hesitated to acknowledge the claims of the Polos, who, by the same arguments, might have proved their identity with Prester John and his family.

The news of their arrival now rapidly circulated through Venice, and crowds of persons of all ranks, attracted, partly by their immense wealth, partly by the strangeness of their recitals, flocked to their palace to see and congratulate them upon their return. The whole family was universally treated with distinction, and Maffio, the elder of the brothers, became one of the principal magistrates of the city. Marco, as being the youngest, and probably the most communicative of the three, was earnestly sought after by the young noblemen of Venice, whom he entertained and astonished by his descriptions of the strange and marvellous things he had beheld; and as in speaking of the subjects and revenues of the Great Khan he was frequently compelled to count by millions, he obtained among his companions the name of Marco Millione. In the time of Ramusio the Polo palace still existed in the street of St. Chrysostom, and was popularly known by the name of the Corte del Millioni. Some writers, however, have supposed that this surname was bestowed on the Polos on account of their extraordinary riches.

Marco Polo had not been many months at Venice before the news arrived that a Genoese fleet, under the command of Lampa Doria, had appeared near the island of Curzola, on the coast of Dalmatia. The republic, alarmed at the intelligence, immediately sent out a numerous fleet against the enemy, in which Marco Polo, as an experienced mariner, was intrusted with the command of a galley. The two fleets soon came to an engagement, when Marco, with that intrepid courage which had carried him safely through so many dangers, advanced with his galley before the rest of the fleet, with the design of breaking the enemy’s squadron. The Venetians, however, who were quickly defeated, wanted the energy to second his boldness; and Marco, who had been wounded in the engagement, was taken prisoner and carried to Genoa.

Here, as at Venice, the extraordinary nature of his adventures, the naïveté of his descriptions, and the amiableness of his character soon gained him friends, who not only delighted in his conversation, but exerted all their powers to soften the rigours of his captivity. Day after day new auditors flocked around this new Ulysses, anxious to hear from his own lips an account of the magnificence and grandeur of Kublai Khan, and of the vast empire of the Mongols. Wearied at length, however, with for ever repeating the same things, he determined, in pursuance of the advice of his new friends, to write the history of his travels; and sending to Venice for the original notes which he had made while in the East, compiled or dictated the brief work which has immortalized his memory. The work was completed in the year 1298, when it may also be said to have been published, as numerous copies were made and circulated.

Meanwhile, his father and uncle, who had hitherto looked to Marco for the continuation of the Polo family, and who had vainly endeavoured by the offer of large sums of money to redeem him from captivity, began to deliberate upon the course which they ought to adopt under the present circumstances; and it was resolved that Nicolo, the younger and more vigorous of the two, should himself marry. Four years after this marriage, Marco was set at liberty at the intercession of the most illustrious citizens of Genoa; but on returning to Venice he found that three new members had been added to the Polo family during his absence, his father having had so many sons by his young wife. Marco continued, however, to live in the greatest harmony and happiness with his new relations; and shortly afterward marrying himself, had two daughters, Maretta and Fantina, but no sons. Upon the death of his father, Marco erected a monument to his memory in the portico of the church of St. Lorenzo, with an inscription stating that it was built in honour of the traveller’s father. Neither the exact date of his father’s death nor of his own has hitherto been ascertained; but it is supposed that our illustrious traveller’s decease took place either in the year 1323 or 1324. According to Mr. Marsden’s opinion, he was then seventy years of age; but if we follow the opinion of the majority of writers, and of M. Walkenaer among the rest, he must have attained the age of seventy-three or seventy-four. The male line of the Polos became extinct in 1417, and the only surviving female was married to a member of the noble house of Trevisino, one of the most illustrious in Venice.

When the travels of Marco Polo first appeared, they were generally regarded as a fiction; and this absurd belief had so far gained ground, that when he lay upon his deathbed, his friends and nearest relatives, coming to take their eternal adieu, conjured him, as he valued the salvation of his soul, to retract whatever he had advanced in his book, or at least such passages as every person looked upon as untrue; but the traveller, whose conscience was untroubled upon that score, declared solemnly in that awful moment, that far from being guilty of exaggeration, he had not described one-half of the wonderful things which he had beheld. Such was the reception which the discoveries of this extraordinary man experienced when first promulgated. By degrees, however, as enterprise lifted more and more the veil from central and eastern Asia, the relations of our traveller rose in the estimation of geographers; and now that the world, though still containing many unknown tracts, has been more successfully explored, we begin to perceive that Marco Polo, like Herodotus, was a man of the most rigid veracity, whose testimony presumptuous ignorance alone can call in question.

To relate the history of our traveller’s work since its first publication would be a long and a dry task. It was translated during his lifetime into Latin (for the opinion of Ramusio that it was originally composed in that language seems to be absurd), as well as into several modern languages of Europe; and as many of those versions were made, according to tradition, under the author’s own direction, he is thought to have inserted some numerous particulars which were wanting in others; and in this way the variations of the different manuscripts are accounted for. The number of the translations of Marco Polo is extraordinary; one in Portuguese, two in Spanish, three in German, three in French, three or four in Latin, one in Dutch, and seven in English. Of all these numerous versions, that of Mr. Marsden is generally allowed to be incomparably the best, whether the correctness of the text or the extent, riches, and variety of the commentary be considered.

IBN BATŪTA.

Born about 1300.—Died after 1353.

This traveller, whose name and works were little known in Europe before the publication of Professor Lee’s translation, was born at Tangiers, in Northern Africa, about the year 1300. He appeared to be designed by nature to be a great traveller. Romantic in his disposition, a great lover of the marvellous, and possessing a sufficient dash of superstition in his character to enable him everywhere to discover omens favourable to his wishes, the slightest motives sufficed to induce him to undertake at a day’s notice the most prodigious journeys, though he could reckon upon deriving from them nothing but the pleasure of seeing strange sights, or of believing that he was fulfilling thereby the secret intentions of Providence respecting him.

Being by profession one of those theologians who in those times were freely received and entertained by princes and the great in all Mohammedan countries, he could apprehend no danger of wanting the necessaries of life, and had before him at least the chance, if not the certain prospect, of being raised for his learning and experience to some post of distinction. The first step in the adventures of all Mohammedan travellers is, of course, the pilgrimage to Mecca, as this journey confers upon them a kind of sacred character, and the title of Hajjî, which is a passport generally respected in all the territories of Islamism.

Ibn Batūta left his native city of Tangiers for the purpose of performing the pilgrimage in the year of the Hejira 725 (A. D. 1324-5). Traversing the Barbary States and the whole breadth of Northern Africa, probably in company with the great Mogrebine caravan which annually leaves those countries for Mecca, he arrived without meeting with any remarkable adventure in Egypt, where, according to the original design of his travels, he employed his time in visiting the numerous saints and workers of miracles with which that celebrated land abounded in those days. Among the most distinguished of these men then in Alexandria was the Imam Borhaneddin el Aaraj. Our traveller one day visiting this man, “Batūta,” said he, “I perceive that the passion of exploring the various countries of the earth hath seized upon thee!”—“I replied, Yes,” says the traveller, “though I had at that time no intention of extending my researches to very distant regions.”—“I have three brothers,” continued the saint, “of whom there is one in India, another in Sindia, and the third in China. You must visit those realms, and when you see my brothers, inform them that they are still affectionately remembered by Borhaneddin.”—“I was astonished at what he said,” observes Batūta, “and determined within myself to accomplish his desires.” He in fact regarded the expressions of this holy man as a manifestation of the will of Heaven.

Having thus conceived the bold design of exploring the remotest countries of the East, Ibn Batūta was impatient to be in motion; he therefore abridged his visits to the saints, and proceeded on his journey. Nevertheless, before his departure from this part of Egypt he had a dream, which, being properly interpreted by a saint, greatly strengthened him in his resolution. Falling asleep upon the roof of a hermit’s cell, he imagined himself placed upon the wings of an immense bird, which, rising high into the air, fled away towards the temple at Mecca. From thence the bird proceeded towards Yarren, and, after taking a vast sweep through the south and the regions of the rising sun, alighted safely with his burden in the land of darkness, where he deposited it, and disappeared. On the morrow the sage hermit interpreted this vision in the sense most consonant with the wishes of the seer, and, presenting our traveller with some dirhems and dried cakes, dismissed him on his way. During the whole of his travels Ibn Batūta met with but one man who equalled this hermit in sanctity and wisdom, and observes, that from the very day on which he quitted him he experienced nothing but good fortune.

At Damietta he saw the cell of the Sheïkh Jemaleddin, leader of the sect of the Kalenders celebrated in the Arabian Nights, who shave their chins and their eyebrows, and spend their whole lives in the contemplation of the beatitude and perfection of God. Journeying onwards through the cities and districts of Fariskūr, Ashmūn el Rommān, and Samānūd, he at length arrived at Misz, or Cairo, where he appears to have first tasted the pure waters of the Nile, which, in his opinion, excel those of all other rivers in sweetness.

Departing from Cairo, and entering Upper Egypt, he visited, among other places, the celebrated monastery of Clay and the minyet of Ibn Khasib. Upon the mention of this latter place, he takes occasion to relate an anecdote of a poet, which, because it is in keeping with our notions of what a man of genius should be, we shall here introduce. Ibn Khasib, raised from a state of slavery to the government of Egypt, and again reduced to beggary, and deprived of sight by the caprice and cruelty of a calif of the house of Abbas, had while in power been a munificent patron and protector of literary men. Hearing of his magnificence and generosity, a poet of Bagdad had undertaken to celebrate his praises in verse; but before he had had an opportunity of reciting his work, Khasib was degraded from his high office, and thrown out in blindness and beggary into the streets of Bagdad. While he was wandering about in this condition, the poet, who must have known him personally, encountered him, and exclaimed, “O, Khasib, it was my intention to visit thee in Egypt to recite thy praises; but thy coming hither has rendered my journey unnecessary. Wilt thou allow me to recite my poem?”—“How,” said Khasib, “shall I hear it? Thou knowest what misfortunes have overtaken me!” The poet replied, “My only wish is that thou shouldst hear it; but as to reward, may God reward thee as thou hast others.” Khasib then said, “Proceed with thy poem.” The poet proceeded:—

“Thy bounties, like the swelling Nile,

Made the plains of Egypt smile,” &c.

When he had concluded, “Come here,” said Khasib, “and open this seam.” He did so. Khasib then said, “Take this ruby.” The poet refused; but being adjured to do so, he complied, and went away to the street of the jewellers to offer it for sale. From the beauty of the stone, it was supposed it could have belonged to no one but the calif, who, being informed of the matter, ordered the poet before him, and interrogated him respecting it. The poet ingenuously related the whole truth; and the tyrant, repenting of his cruelty, sent for Khasib, overwhelmed him with splendid presents, and promised to grant him whatever he should desire. Khasib demanded and obtained the small minyet in Upper Egypt in which he resided until his death, and where his fame was still fresh when Ibn Batūta passed through the country.

Frustrated in his attempt to reach Mecca by this route, after penetrating as far as Nubia, our traveller returned to Cairo, and from thence proceeded by way of the Desert into Syria. Here, like every other believer in the Hebrew Scriptures, he found himself in the midst of the most hallowed associations; and strengthened at once his piety and his enthusiasm by visiting the graves of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, as well as the many spots rendered venerable by the footsteps of Mohammed. As the believers in Islamism entertain a kind of religious respect for the founder of Christianity, whom they regard as a great prophet, Batūta did not fail to include Bethlehem, the birthplace of Christ, in the list of those places he had to see. Upon this town, however, as well as upon Jerusalem, Tyre, Sidon, and others of equal renown in Syria, he makes few observations which can assist us in forming an idea of the state of the country in those times; but in return for this meagerness, he relates a very extraordinary story of an alchymist, who had discovered the secret of making gold, and exercised his supernatural power in acts of beneficence.

From Syria he proceeded towards Mesopotamia, by Emessa, Hameh, and Aleppo, and having traversed the country of the Kurds, and visited the fortresses of the Assassins, the people who, as he says, “act as arrows for El Malik el Nāisr,” returned to Mount Libanus, which he pronounces the most fruitful mountain in the world, and describes as abounding in various fruits, fountains of water, and leafy shades. He then visited Baalbec and Damascus; and, after remaining a short time at the latter city, departed with the Syrian caravan for Mecca. His attempt to perform the pilgrimage, a duty incumbent on all true Mussulmans, was this time successful: the caravan traversed the “howling wilderness” in safety; arrived at the Holy City; and the pilgrims having duly performed the prescribed rites, and spent three days near the tomb of the prophet, at Medina, Ibn Batūta joined a caravan proceeding through the deserts of Nejed towards Persia.

The early part of this journey offered nothing which our traveller thought worthy of remark; but he at length arrived at Kadisia, near Kufa, anciently a great city, in the neighbourhood of which that decisive victory was obtained by Saad, one of the generals of Omar, over the Persians, which established the interests of Islamism, and overthrew for ever the power of the Ghebers. He next reached the city of Meshed Ali, a splendid and populous place, where the grave of Ali is supposed to be. The inhabitants, of course, were Shiahs, but they were rich; and Ibn Batūta, who was a tolerant man, thought them a brave people. The gardens were surrounded by plastered walls, adorned with paintings, and contained carpets, couches, and lamps of gold and silver. Within the city was a rich treasury, maintained by the votive offerings of sick persons, who then crowded, and still crowd, to the grave of Ali, from Room, Khorasān, Irak, and other places, in the hope of receiving relief. These people are placed over the grave a short time after sunset, while other persons, some praying, others reciting the Koran, and others prostrating themselves, attend expecting their recovery, and before it is quite dark a miraculous cure takes place. Our traveller, from some cause or another, was not present on any of these occasions, and remarks that he saw several afflicted persons who, though they confidently looked forward to future benefit had hitherto received none.

The whole of that portion of Mesopotamia was at this period in the power of the Bedouin Arabs, without whose protection there was no travelling through the country. With them, therefore, Ibn Batūta proceeded from Basra, towards various holy and celebrated places, among others to the tomb of “My Lord Ahmed of Rephaā,” a famous devotee, whose disciples still congregate about his grave, and kindling a prodigious fire, walk into it, some eating it, others trampling upon it, and others rolling in it, till it be entirely extinguished, while others take great serpents in their teeth, and bite the head off. From hence he again returned to Basra, the neighbourhood of which abounded with palm-trees. The inhabitants were distinguished for their politeness and humanity towards strangers. Here he saw the famous copy of the Koran in which Othman, the son of Ali, was reading when he was assassinated, and on which the marks of his blood were still visible.

Embarking on board a small boat, called a sambūk, he descended the Tigris to Abbadān, whence it was his intention to have proceeded to Bagdad; but, adopting the advice of a friend at Basra, he sailed down the Persian Gulf, and landing at Magul, crossed a plain inhabited by Kurds, and arrived at a ridge of very high mountains. Over these he travelled during three days, finding at every stage a cell with food for the accommodation of travellers. The roads over these mountains were cut through the solid rock. His travelling companions consisted of ten devotees, of whom one was a priest, another a muezzin, and two professed readers of the Koran, to all of whom the sultan of the country sent presents of money.

In ten days they arrived in the territories of Ispahan, and remained some days at the capital, a large and handsome city. From thence he soon departed for Shiraz, which, though inferior to Damascus, was even then an extensive and well-built city, remarkable for the beauty of its streets, gardens, and waters. Its inhabitants likewise, and particularly the women, were persons of integrity, religion, and virtue; but our singular traveller remarks, that for his part he had no other object in going thither than that of visiting the Sheïkh Majd Oddin, the paragon of saints and workers of miracles! By this holy man he was received with great kindness, of which he retained so grateful a remembrance, that on returning home twenty years afterward from the remotest countries of the east, he undertook a journey of five-and-thirty days for the mere purpose of seeing his ancient host.

The greater portion of the early life of Ibn Batūta was consumed in visiting saints, or the birthplaces and tombs of saints: but his time was not therefore misemployed; for, besides the positive pleasure which the presence or sight of such objects appears to have generated in his own mind, at every step he advanced in this sacred pilgrimage his personal consequence, and his claims upon the veneration and hospitality of princes and other great men, were increased. As he may be regarded as the representative of a class of men extremely numerous in the early ages of Islamism, and whose character and mode of life are highly illustrative of the manners of those times, it is important to follow the footsteps of our traveller in his whimsical wanderings a little more closely than would otherwise be necessary.

Proceeding, therefore, at the heels of the honest theologian, we next find him at Kazerun, beholding devoutly the tomb of the Sheïkh Abu Is-hāk, a saint held in high estimation throughout India and China, especially by sailors, who, when tossed about by adverse or tempestuous winds upon the ocean, make great vows to him, which, when safely landed, they pay to the servants of his cell. From hence he proceeded through various districts, many of which were desert and uninhabitable, to Kufa and Hilla, whence, having visited the mosque of the twelfth imam, whose readvent is still expected by his followers, he departed for Bagdad. Here, as at Rome or Athens, the graves of great men abounded; so that Ibn Batūta’s sympathies were every moment awakened, and apparently too painfully; for, notwithstanding that it was one of the largest and most celebrated cities in the world, he almost immediately quitted it with Bahadar Khan, sultan of Irak, whom he accompanied for ten days on his march towards Khorasān. Upon his signifying his desire to return, the prince dismissed him with large presents and a dress of honour, together with the means of performing the pilgrimage to Mecca, which, as an incipient saint, he imagined he could not too frequently repeat.

Finding, on his return to Bagdad, that a considerable time would elapse before the departure of the caravan for the Holy City, he resolved to employ the interval in traversing various portions of Mesopotamia, and in visiting numerous cities which he had not hitherto seen. Among these places the most remarkable were Samarā, celebrated in the history of the Calif Vathek; Mousul, which is said to occupy the site of ancient Nineveh; and Nisibēn, renowned throughout the east for the beauty of its position, and the incomparable scent of the rose-water manufactured there. He likewise spent some time at the city and mountain of Sinjar, inhabited by that extraordinary Kurdish tribe who, according to the testimony of several modern travellers, pay divine honours to the Devil.

This little excursion being concluded, Batūta found the caravan in readiness to set out for Mecca, and departing with it, and arriving safe in the Holy City, he performed all the ceremonies and rites prescribed, and remained there three years, subsisting upon the alms contributed by the pious bounty of the inhabitants of Irak, and conveyed to Mecca by caravans. His travelling fit now returning, he left the birthplace of the prophet, and repairing to Jidda, proceeded with a company of merchants towards Yemen by sea. After being driven by contrary winds to the coast of Africa, and landing at Sūakin, he at length reached Yemen; in the various cities and towns of which he was entertained with a hospitality so generous and grateful that he seems never to be tired of dwelling on their praises. He did not, however, remain long among his munificent hosts, but, taking ship at Aden, passed over once more into Africa, and landed at Zaila, a city of the Berbers. The inhabitants of this place, though Mohammedans, were a rude, uncultivated people, living chiefly upon fish and the flesh of camels, which are slaughtered in the streets, where their blood and offals were left putrefying to infect the air. From this stinking city he proceeded by sea to Makdasha, the Magadocia of the Portuguese navigators; a very extensive place, where the hospitable natives were wont, on the arrival of a ship, to come down in a body to the seashore, and select each his guest from among the merchants.—When a theologian or a nobleman happened to be among the passengers, he was received and entertained by the kazi; and as Ibn Batūta belonged to the former class he of course became the guest of this magistrate. Here he remained a short time, passing his days in banqueting and pleasure; and then returned to Arabia.

During the stay he now made in this country he collected several particulars respecting the trade and manners of the people, which are neither trifling nor unimportant. The inhabitants of Zafār, the most easterly city of Yemen, carried on at that period, he observes, a great trade in horses with India, the voyage being performed in a month. The practice he remarked among the same people of feeding their flocks and herds with fish, and which, he says, he nowhere else observed, prevails, however, up to the present day, among the nations of the Coromandel coast, as well as in other parts of the east. At El Ahkāf, the city of the tribe of Aād, there were numerous gardens, producing enormous bananas, with the cocoanut and the betel. Our fanciful traveller discovered a striking resemblance between the cocoanut and a man’s head, observing that exteriorly there was something resembling eyes and a mouth, and that when young the pulp within was like brains. To complete the similitude, the hair was represented by the fibre, from which, he remarks, cords for sewing together the planks of their vessels, as also cordage and cables, were manufactured. The nut itself, according to him, was highly nourishing, and, like the betel-leaf, a powerful aphrodisiac.

Still pursuing his journey through Arabia, he crossed the desert of Ammān, and met with a people extraordinary among Mahommedans, whose wives were liberal of their favours, without exciting the jealousy of their husbands, and who, moreover, considered it lawful to feed upon the flesh of the domestic ass. From thence he crossed the Persian Gulf to Hormuz, where, among many other extraordinary things, he saw the head of a fish resembling a hill, the eyes of which were like two doors, so that people could walk in at one eye and out at the other! He now felt himself to be within the sphere of attraction of an object whose power he could never resist. There was, he heard, at Janja-bal, a certain saint, and of course he forthwith formed the resolution to refresh himself with a sight of him. He therefore crossed the sea, and hiring a number of Turcomans, without whose protection there was no travelling in that part of the country, entered a waterless desert, four days’ journey in extent, over which the Bedouins wander in caravans, and where the death-bearing simoom blows during the hot months of summer. Having passed this desolate and dreary tract, he arrived in Kusistān, a small province of Persia, bordering upon Laristān, in which Janja-bal, the residence of the saint, was situated. The sheïkh, who was secretly, or, as the people believed, miraculously, supplied with a profusion of provisions, received our traveller courteously, sent him fruit and food, and contrived to impress him with a high idea of his sanctity.

He now entered upon the ancient kingdom of Fars, an extensive and fertile country, abounding in gardens producing a profusion of aromatic herbs, and where the celebrated pearl-fisheries of Bahrein, situated in a tranquil arm of the sea, are found. The pearl divers employed here were Arabs, who, tying a rope round their waists, and wearing upon their faces a mask made of tortoise-shell, descended into the water, where, according to Batūta, some remained an hour, others two, searching among forests of coral for the pearls.

Ibn Batūta was possessed by an extraordinary passion for performing the pilgrimage to Mecca; and now (A. D. 1332), the year in which El Malik El Nāsir, sultan of Egypt, visited the holy city, set out from Persia on his third sacred expedition. Having made the necessary genuflexions, and kissed the black stone at the Kaaba, he began to turn his thoughts towards India, but was prevented, we know not how, from carrying his design into execution; and traversing a portion of Arabia and Egypt, entered Room or Turkey. Here, in the province of Anatolia, he was entertained by an extraordinary brotherhood, to whom, as to all his noble hosts and entertainers, he devotes a portion of his travels. This association, which existed in every Turcoman town, consisted of a number of youths, who, under the direction of one of the members, called “the brother,” exercised the most generous hospitality towards all strangers, and were the vigorous and decided enemies of oppression. Upon the formation of one of these associations, the brother, or president, erected a cell, in which were placed a horse, a saddle, and whatever other articles were considered necessary. The president himself, and every thing in the cell, were always at the service of the members, who every evening conveyed the product of their industry to the president, to be sold for the benefit of the cell; and when any stranger arrived in the town, he was here hospitably entertained, and contributed to increase the hilarity of the evening, which was passed in feasting, drinking, singing, and dancing.

Travelling to Iconium, and other cities of Asia Minor, in all of which he was received and entertained in a splendid manner, while presents of slaves, horses, and gold were sometimes bestowed upon him, he at length took ship at Senab, and sailed for Krim Tartary. During the voyage he endured great hardships, and was very near being drowned; but at length arrived at a small port on the margin of the desert of Kifjāk, a country over which Mohammed Uzbek Khan then reigned. Being desirous of visiting the court of this prince, Ibn Batūta now hired one of those arabahs, or carts, in which the inhabitants travel with their families over those prodigious plains, where neither mountain nor hill nor tree meets the eye, and where the dung of animals serves as a substitute for fuel, and entered upon a desert of six months’ extent. Throughout these immense steppes, which are denominated desert merely in reference to their comparative unproductiveness, our traveller found cities, but thinly scattered; and vast droves of cattle, which, protected by the excessive severity of the laws, wandered without herdsmen or keepers over the waste. The women of the country, though they wore no veils, were virtuous, pious, and charitable; and consequently were held in high estimation.

Arriving at the Bish Tag, or “Five Mountains,” he there found the urdu (whence our word horde) or camp of the sultan, a moving city, with its streets, palaces, mosques, and cooking houses, “the smoke of which ascended as they moved along.” Mohammed Uzbek, then sovereign of Kifjāk, was a brave and munificent prince; and Ibn Batūta, having, according to Tartar etiquette, first paid a visit of ceremony to each of his wives, was politely received by him.

From this camp our traveller set out, with guides appointed by the sultan, for the city of Bulgār, which, according to the Maresid Al Etluā, is situated in Siberia. Here, in exemplification of the extreme shortness of the night, he observes, that while repeating the prayer of sunset he was overtaken, though he by no means lagged in his devotions, by the time for evening prayer, which was no sooner over than it was time to begin that of midnight; and that before he could conclude one voluntary orison, which he added to this, the dawn had already appeared, and morning prayer was to be begun. Forty days’ journey to the north of this place lay the land of darkness, where, he was told, people travelled over interminable plains of ice and snow, on small light sledges, drawn by dogs; but he was deterred from pushing his researches into these Cimmerian regions by the fear of danger, and considerations of the inutility of the journey. He returned, therefore, to the camp of the sultan.

Mohammed Uzbek had married a daughter of the Greek Emperor of Constantinople, who, being at this time pregnant, requested his permission to be confined in her father’s palace, where it was her intention to leave her child. The sultan consented, and Ibn Batūta, conceiving that an excellent opportunity for visiting the Greek capital now presented itself, expressed a desire to accompany the princess, but the sultan, who regarded him apparently as something too gay for a saint, at first refused to permit him. Upon his pressing the matter, however, representing that he should never appear before the queen but as his servant and guest, so that no fears need be entertained of him, the royal husband, relenting, allowed him to go, and presented him, on his departure, with fifteen hundred dinars, a dress of honour, and several horses; while each of his sultanas, together with his sons and daughters, caused the traveller to taste of their bounty.

The queen, while she remained in her husband’s territories, respected the religion and manners of the Mohammedans; but she had no sooner entered her father’s dominions, and found herself surrounded by her countrymen, than she drank wine, dismissed the ministers of Islamism, and was reported to commit the abomination of eating swine’s flesh. Ibn Batūta was still treated with respect, however, and continuing to be numbered among the suite of the sultana, arrived at length at Constantinople, where, in his zeal to watch over the comfort of his royal mistress, he exposed himself to the risk of being squeezed to death in the crowd. On entering the city, his ears appear to have been much annoyed by the ringing of numerous bells, which, with the inveterate passion of all Europeans for noise when agitated by any joyous emotions, the Greeks of Constantinople substituted for their own voices in the expression of their satisfaction.

Remaining about five weeks in Constantinople, where, owing to the difference of manners, language, and religion, he does not appear to have tasted of much pleasure, he returned to Mohammed Uzbek, whose bounty enabled him to pursue his journey towards the east in a very superior style. The country to which his desires now pointed was Khavāresm, the road thither traversing, during the greater part of the way, a barren desert, where little water and a very scanty herbage were to be found. Crossing this waste in a carriage drawn by camels, he arrived at Khavāresm, the largest city at that period possessed by the Turks. Here he found the people friendly towards strangers, liberal, and well-bred,—and no wonder; for in every mosque a whip was hung up, with which every person who absented himself from church was soundly flogged by the priest, besides being fined in five dinars. This practice, which Ibn Batūta thought highly commendable, no doubt contributed greatly towards rendering the people liberal and well-bred. Next to the refinement of the people, the most remarkable thing he observed at Khavāresm was a species of melon, green on the outside, and red within, which, being cut into thin oblong slices and dried, was packed up in cases like figs, and exported to India and China. Thus preserved, the Khavāresm melon was thought equal to the best dried fruits in the world, and regarded as a present worthy of kings.

From hence Ibn Batūta departed for Bokhāra, a city renowned throughout the east for the learning and refinement of its inhabitants, but at this period so reduced and impoverished by the long wars of Genghis Khan and his successors, that not one man was to be found in it who understood any thing of science. Leaving this ancient seat of oriental learning, he proceeded to Māwarā El Nahr, the sultan of which was a just and powerful prince, who received him hospitably, and furnished him with funds to pursue his wanderings. He next visited Samarkand, Balkh, and Herat, in Khorasān; and scaling the snowy heights of the Hindoo Koosh, or Hindoo-Slayer, so called because most of the slaves attempted to be carried out of India by this route are killed by the severity of the cold, he entered Kabul. Here, in a cell of the mountain called Bashāi, he found an old man, who, though he had the appearance of being about fifty, pretended to be three hundred and fifty years old, and assured Ibn Batūta that at the expiration of every hundred years he was blessed with a new growth of hair and new teeth, and that, in fact, he was the Rajah Aba Rahim Ratan of India, who had been buried in Mooltam. Notwithstanding his innate veneration for every thing saintly, and this man bore the name of Ata Evlin, or “Father of Saints,” our honest traveller could not repress the doubts which arose in his mind respecting his extraordinary pretensions, and observes in his travels that he much doubted of what he was, and that he continued to doubt.

Ibn Batūta now crossed the Indus, and found himself in Hindostan, where, immediately upon his arrival, he met, in a city which he denominates Janai, one of the three brothers of Borhaneddin, the Egyptian saint, whose prediction, strengthening his natural bent of mind, had made a great traveller of him. Traversing the desert of Sivastān, where the Egyptian thorn was the only tree to be seen, and then descending along the banks of the Sinde, or Indus, he arrived at the city of Lahari, on the seashore, in the vicinity of which were the ruins of an ancient city, abounding with the sculptured figures of men and animals, which the superstitious natives supposed to be the real forms of the ancient inhabitants transformed by the Almighty into stone for their wickedness.

At Uja, a large city on the Indus, our traveller contracted a friendship with the Emīr Jelaleddin, then governor of the place, a brave and generous prince, whom he afterward met at Delhi. In journeying eastward from this place, Batūta proceeded through a desert lying between two ridges of mountains, inhabited by Hindoos, whom the traveller terms infidel and rebellious, because they adhered to the faith of their ancestors, and refused submission to the power of the Mohammedan conquerors of their country. Ibn Batūta’s party, consisting of twenty-two men, was here attacked by a large body of natives, which they succeeded in repulsing, after they had killed thirteen of their number. In the course of this journey he witnessed the performance of a suttee, and remarks upon the occasion, that these human sacrifices were not absolutely required either by the laws or the religion of Hindostan; but that, owing to the vulgar prejudice which regarded those families as ennobled who thus lost one of their members, the practice was greatly encouraged.

On arriving at Delhi, which, for strength, beauty, and extent, he pronounces the greatest city, not only of all Hindostan, but of all Islamism in the east, he resorted to the palace of the queen-mother and presenting his presents, according to custom, was graciously received and magnificently established by the bounty of that princess and the vizier. It is to be presumed, that the money he had received in presents from various princes on the way had exceeded his travelling expenses, and gone on accumulating, until, on his arrival at Delhi, it amounted to a very considerable sum; for with his house, costly furniture, and forty attendants, his expenditure seems greatly to have exceeded the munificence of his patrons; indeed, he very soon found that all the resources he could command were too scanty to supply the current of his extravagance.

Being of the opinion of that ancient writer who thought a good companion better than a coach on a journey, Ibn Batūta appears to have increased his travelling establishment with a mistress, by whom he seems to have had several children, for shortly after his arrival at the capital, he informs us that “a daughter of his,” evidently implying that he had more than one, happened to die. At this time our worthy theologian was so deeply intoxicated with the fumes of that vanity which usually accompanies the extraordinary smiles of fortune, that, although by no means destitute of natural affection, nothing in the whole transaction appears to have made any impression upon his mind except the honour conferred upon him by the condescension of the vizier and the emperor. The latter, then at a considerable distance from the capital, on being informed of the event, commanded that the ceremonies and rites usually performed at the funeral of the children of the nobility should now take place; and accordingly, on the third day, when the body was to be removed to its narrow house, the vizier, the judges, and the nobles entered the chamber of mourning, spread a carpet, and made the necessary preparations, consisting of incense, rose-water, readers of the Koran, and panegyrists. Our traveller, who anticipated nothing of all this, confesses ingenuously that he was “much gratified.” To the mother of the child the queen-mother showed the greatest kindness, presenting her with magnificent dresses and ornaments, and a thousand dinars in money.

The Emperor Mohammed having been absent from Delhi ever since our traveller’s arrival, he had hitherto found no opportunity of presenting himself before the “Lord of the World;” but upon that great personage’s returning, soon after the funeral, the vizier undertook to introduce him to the presence. The emperor received him graciously, taking him familiarly by the hand, and, in the true royal style, lavishing the most magnificent promises. As an earnest of his future bounty, he bestowed upon each of the many travellers who were presented at the same time, and met with the same reception, a gold-embroidered dress, which he had himself worn; a horse from his own stud, richly caparisoned with housings and saddle of silver; and such refreshments as the imperial kitchen afforded. Three days afterward Ibn Batūta was appointed one of the judges of Delhi, on which occasion the vizier observed to him, “The Lord of the World appoints you to the office of judge in Delhi. He also gives you a dress of honour with a saddled horse, as also twelve thousand dinars for your present support. He has moreover appointed you a yearly salary of twelve thousand dinars, and a portion of lands in the villages, which will produce annually an equal sum.” He then did homage and withdrew.

The fortune of Ibn Batūta was now changed. From the condition of a religious adventurer, wandering from court to court, and from country to country, subsisting upon the casual bounty of the great, he had now been elevated to a post of great honour and emolument in the greatest city then existing in the world. But it is very certain he was not rendered happier by this promotion. The monarch upon whose nod his destiny now depended was a man of changeful and ferocious nature, profuse and lavish in the extreme towards those whom he affected, but when provoked, diabolically cruel and revengeful. In the very first conference which our traveller held with his master after his appointment, he made a false step, and gave offence; for when the emperor had informed him that he would by no means find his office a sinecure, he replied that he belonged to the sect of Ibn Malik, whereas the people of Delhi were followers of Hanīfa; and that, moreover, he was ignorant of their language. This would have been a good reason why he should not in the first instance have accepted the office of judge; but, having accepted of it, he should by no means have brought forward his sectarian prejudices, or his ignorance, in the hope of abridging the extent of his duties. The emperor, with evident displeasure, rejoined, that he had appointed two learned men to be his deputies, and that these would advise him how to act. He moreover added, that it would be his business to sign all legal instruments.

Notwithstanding the profuse generosity of Mohammed Khan, Ibn Batūta, who seems to have understood nothing of domestic economy, soon found himself prodigiously in debt; but his genius, fertile in expedients, and now sharpened by necessity, soon hit upon an easy way of satisfying his creditors. Observing that, like most of his countrymen, Mohammed Khan was an admirer of Arabian poetry, more particularly of such as celebrated his own praises, our theological judge, whose conscience seems to have been hushed to silence by his embarrassments, composed in Arabic a panegyric upon his patron, who, to borrow his own expression, “was wonderfully pleased with it.” Taking advantage, like a thoroughbred courtier, of this fit of good-humour, he disclosed the secret of his debt, which the emperor, who now, no doubt, perceived the real drift of the panegyric, ordered to be discharged from his own treasury; but added, however, “Take care, in future, not to exceed the extent of your income.” Upon this the traveller, whether pleased with his generosity or his advice we will not determine, exclaims, “May God reward him!”

No great length of time had elapsed, however, before Ibn Batūta perceived that his grandeur had conducted him to the edge of a precipice. Having, during a short absence of the emperor, visited a certain holy man who resided in a cell without the city, and had once been in great favour with Mohammed himself, our traveller received an order to attend at the gate of the palace, while a council sat within. In most cases this was the signal of death. But in order to mollify the Fates, Ibn Batūta betook himself to fasting, subsisting, during the four days in which he thus attended, upon pure water, and mentally repeating thirty-three thousand times that verse of the Koran which says, “God is our support, and the most excellent patron.” The aquatic diet and the repetitions prevailing, he was acquitted, while every other person who had visited the sheïkh was put to death. Perceiving that the risks incurred by a judge of Delhi were at least equal to the emolument, Ibn Batūta began to feel his inclination for his own free roaming mode of life return, resigned his perilous office, bestowed all the wealth he possessed upon the fakeers, and bidding adieu to the splendid vanities of the world, donned the tunic of these religious mendicants, and attached himself during five months to the renowned Sheïkh Kamāleddin Abdallah El Ghazi, a man who had performed many open miracles.

Mohammed Khan, conceiving that the ex-judge had now performed sufficient penance for his indiscretion, sent for him again, and receiving him more graciously than ever, observed, “Knowing the delight you experience in travelling into various countries, I am desirous of sending you on an embassy into China.” Ibn Batūta, who appears by this time to have grown thoroughly tired of a fakeer’s life, very readily consented, and forthwith received those dresses of honour, horses, money, &c. which invariably accompanied such an appointment. Ambassadors had lately arrived from the Emperor of China with numerous costly presents for the khan, and requesting permission to rebuild an idol temple within the limits of Hindostan. Mohammed Khan, though, as a true Mussulman, he could not grant such permission unless tribute were paid, was now about to despatch ambassadors to his brother of China, “bearing, in proof of his greatness and munificence, presents much more valuable than those he had received.” These presents, as highly illustrative of the manners of those times and countries, we shall enumerate in the words of the traveller himself; they consisted of the following articles:—One hundred horses of the best breed, saddled and bridled; one hundred Mamlūks; one hundred Hindoo singing slave girls; one hundred Bairami dresses, the value of each of which was a hundred dinars; one hundred silken dresses; five hundred saffron-coloured dresses; one hundred pieces of the best cotton cloth; one thousand dresses of the various clothing of India; with numerous instruments of gold and silver, swords and quivers set with jewels, and ten robes of honour wrought with gold, of the sultan’s own dresses, with various other articles.

Ibn Batūta was accompanied on this mission by one of the chief of the Ulema, and by a favourite officer of the emperor, who was intrusted with the presents; and a guard of a thousand cavalry was appointed to conduct them to the seaport where they were to embark. The Chinese ambassadors and their suite returned homeward in their company. The embassy left Delhi in the year 1342, but had not proceeded far before they encountered a serious obstacle to their movements, and found themselves engaged in warlike operations. El Jalali, a city lying in their route, being besieged by the Hindoos, Ibn Batūta and his companions determined, like true Mussulmans, to unite with their distressed brethren in repelling the infidel forces, and in the commencement their valour was rewarded by success; but a great number of their troop suffering “martyrdom,” and among the rest the officer who had been intrusted with the care of the present, it was judged necessary to transmit an account of what had taken place to Delhi, and await the further commands of the “Lord of the World.” In the mean while the Hindoos, though, according to Ibn Batūta, thoroughly subdued, if not exterminated, continued their attacks upon the Moslems; and during one of these affrays our valiant traveller was accidentally placed in the greatest jeopardy. Having joined his coreligionists in pursuing the vanquished Hindoos, he suddenly found himself and five others separated from the main body of the army, and pursued in their turn by the enemy. At length his five companions, escaping in different directions, or falling by the sword of the Hindoos, disappeared, and he was thus left alone in the midst of the most imminent danger. Just at this moment the forefeet of his horse sticking fast between two stones, he dismounted to set the beast at liberty, and observed, that having entered the mouth of a valley his pursuers had lost sight of him, as he had of them. Of the country, however, the towns, the roads, and the rivers he was totally ignorant; so that, thinking his horse as good a judge of what was best as himself in the present dilemma, he permitted the animal to select his own path. The horse, imagining, perhaps, that shade and safety were synonymous, proceeded towards a part of the valley where the trees were closely interwoven, but had no sooner reached it than a party of about forty cavalry rushed out, and made our ambassador prisoner.

Ibn Batūta, who immediately alighted from his charger, now began to believe that all his journeyings were at an end; and that, notwithstanding his dreams, and the predictions of many saints, he was doomed never to behold China, or the second and third brothers of the Sheïkh Borhaneddin. To corroborate his apprehensions the Hindoos plundered him of all he possessed, bound his arms, and, taking him along with them, travelled for two days through a country unknown to our traveller, who, not understanding the language or manners of his captors, imagined they intended to kill, and, perhaps, to eat him. From these fears he was soon delivered, however, for at the end of two days, the Hindoos, supposing, no doubt, that they had terrified him sufficiently, gave him his liberty, and rode away. The shadows of his past apprehensions still haunting him, he no sooner found himself alone than plunging into the depths of an almost impenetrable forest he sought among the haunts of wild animals an asylum from the fury of man. Here he subsisted seven days upon the fruit and leaves of the mountain trees, occasionally venturing out to examine whither the neighbouring roads might lead, but always finding them conduct him towards ruins or the abode of Hindoos.

On the seventh day of his concealment he met with a black man, who politely saluted him, and, the salute being returned, demanded his name. Having satisfied the stranger upon this point, our traveller made the same demand, and the stranger replied that he was called El Kalb El Karīh (the “Wounded Heart”). He then gave Ibn Batūta some pulse to eat, and water to drink, and, observing that he was too weak to walk, took him upon his shoulders and carried him along. In this position our traveller fell asleep, and his nap must have been a long one, for, awaking about the dawn of the next day, he found himself at the gate of the emperor’s palace. What became of his extraordinary charger he does not inform us; but the emperor, who had already received by a courier the news of his misfortunes, bestowed upon him ten thousand dinars, to console him for his losses, and once more equipped him for his journey. Another officer was sent to take charge of the present, returning with whom to the city of Kul, he rejoined his companions, and proceeded on his mission.

Proceeding by the way of Dowlutabad, Nazarabad, Canbaza, and Pattan, he at length arrived at Kalikut in Malabar, where the whole party were to embark for China. Here, not having properly timed their arrival, our sage ambassadors had to remain three months, waiting for a favourable wind. When the season for departure had arrived, the other members of the embassy embarked with the present; but Ibn Batūta, finding the cabin which had been assigned him much too small to contain his baggage and the multitude of slave girls, remained on shore for the purpose of bargaining for a larger vessel, and hearing divine service on the next day. During the night a tempest arose, which drove several of the junks upon the shore, where a great number of the crew and passengers perished. The ship which contained the imperial present weathered the storm until the morning, when our traveller, descending to the beach, beheld her tossed about upon the furious waves, while the officers of the emperor prostrated themselves upon the deck in despair. Presently she struck upon the rocks, and every soul on board perished. A part of the fleet, among the rest the vessel containing our traveller’s property, sailed away, and of the fate of the greater number of them nothing was ever known. The whole of Ibn Batūta’s wealth now consisted of a prostration carpet and ten dinars; but being told that in all probability the ship in which he had embarked his fortune had put into Kawlam, a city ten days’ journey distant, he proceeded thither, but upon his arrival found that his hopes had been buoyed up in vain.

He was now in the most extraordinary dilemma in which he had ever been placed. Knowing the fierce and unreflecting character of the emperor, who, without weighing his motives, would condemn him for having remained on shore; and being too poor to remain where he was, he could not for some time determine how to act. At length, however, he resolved to visit the court of Jemaleddin, king of Hinaur, who received him kindly, and allowed him to become reader to the royal mosque. Shortly afterward, having been encouraged thereto by a favourable omen, obtained from a sentence of the Koran, he accompanied Jemaleddin in an expedition against the island of Sindibur, which was subdued and taken possession of. To console Ibn Batūta for the many misfortunes he had lately endured, Jemaleddin presented him with a slave girl, clothing, and other necessaries; and he remained with him several months. Still, however, he was not reconciled to the loss of his pretty female slave and other property which had been embarked in the Chinese ship, and requested the king’s permission to make a voyage to Kawlam for the purpose of making inquiries concerning it. His request being granted, he proceeded to Kawlam, where, to his great grief, he learned that his former mistress had died, and that his property had been seized upon by the “infidels,” while his followers had found other masters.

This affair being thus at an end, he returned to Sindibur, where he found his friend Jemaleddin besieged by an infidel king. Not being able to enter the city, he embarked, without delay, for the Maldive Islands, all parts of the earth being now much alike to him, and after a ten days’ voyage arrived at that extraordinary archipelago. Here, after dwelling upon the praises of the cocoanut, which he describes as an extremely powerful aphrodisiac, he informs us, as a commentary upon the above text, that he had four wives, besides a reasonable number of mistresses. Nevertheless, the natives, he says, are chaste and religious, and so very peacefully disposed that their only weapons are prayers. In one of these islands he was raised to the office of judge, when, according to his own testimony, he endeavoured to prevail upon his wives, contrary to the custom of the country, to eat in his company, and conceal their bosom with their garments, but could never succeed.

The legend which ascribes the conversion of these islanders to Mohammedanism, the religion now prevailing there, to a man who delivered the country from a sea-monster, which was accustomed to devour monthly one of their most beautiful virgins, strongly resembles the story of Perseus and Andromeda. In order to keep up the fervency of their piety the monster still appears on a certain day in the offing. Ibn Batūta, who had little of the skeptic in his composition, saw the apparition himself, in the form of a ship filled with candles and torches; and it may, perhaps, be the same supernatural structure which still hovers about those seas, sailing in the teeth of the wind, and denominated by European mariners the “Flying Dutchman.” In these islands Ibn Batūta remained some time, sailing from isle to isle through glittering and tranquil seas, being everywhere raised to posts of honour and distinction, and tasting of all the delights and pleasures which power, consideration, and a delicious climate could bestow.

Neither riches nor honours, however, could fix Ibn Batūta in one place. He was as restless as a wave of the sea. No sooner, therefore, had he seen the principal curiosities of the Maldive Islands, than he burned to be again in motion, visiting new scenes, and contemplating other men and other manners. Embarking on board a Mohammedan vessel, he set sail for the island of Ceylon, principally for the purpose of visiting the mark of Adam’s footstep on the mountain of Serendib, the lofty summit of which appeared, he observes, like a pillar of smoke at the distance of nine days’ sail. Drawing near the land, he was at first forbidden by the Hindoo authorities to come on shore; but, upon his informing them that he was a relation of the King of Maabar, as he in some sense was, having while at Delhi married the sister of that prince’s queen, they permitted him to disembark. The king of the country, who happened at that time to be in amity with the sovereign of Maabar, received him hospitably, and bade him ask boldly for whatever he might want. “My only desire,” replied the traveller, “in coming to this island is to visit the blessed foot of our forefather Adam.” This being the case, the king informed him that his desires might easily be gratified, and forthwith granted him an escort of four Jogees, four Brahmins, ten courtiers, and fifteen men for carrying provisions, with a palanquin and bearers for his own use.

With this superb retinue the traveller departed from Battalā, the capital of his royal host, and journeying for several days through a country abounding with wild elephants, arrived at the city of Kankār, situated on the Bay of Rubies, where the emperor of the whole island at that time resided. Here Ibn Batūta saw the only white elephant which he beheld in all his travels; and the beast, being set apart for the use of the prince, had his head adorned with enormous rubies, one of which was larger than a hen’s egg. Other rubies of still greater magnitude were sometimes found in the mines, and Ibn Batūta saw a saucer as large as the palm of the hand cut from one single stone. Rubies were in fact so plentiful here that the women wore strings of them upon their arms and legs, instead of bracelets and ankle-rings.

In the course of this journey our traveller passed through a district inhabited chiefly by black monkeys, with long tails, and beards like men. He was assured by “very pious and credible persons” that these monkeys had a kind of leader, or king, who, being, we suppose, ambitious of appearing to be an Islamite, wore upon his head a species of turban composed of the leaves of trees, and reclined on a staff as upon a sceptre. He had, moreover, his council and his harem, like any other prince; and one of the Jogees asserted that he had himself seen the officers of his court doing justice upon a criminal, by beating him with rods, and plucking off all his hair. His revenue, which was paid in kind, consisted of a certain number of nuts, lemons, and mountain fruit; but upon what principle it was collected we are not informed. Another of the wonders of Ceylon were the terrible tree-leeches, which, springing from the branches, or from the tall rank grass, upon the passing traveller, fastened upon him, drained out his blood, and sometimes occasioned immediate death. To prevent this fatal result the inhabitants always carry a lemon about with them, which they squeeze upon the leech, and thus force him to quit his hold.

Arriving at length at the Seven Caves, and the Ridge of Alexander, they began to ascend the mountain of Serendib, which, according to the orientals, is one of the highest in the world. Its summit rises above the region of the clouds; for our traveller observes, that when he had ascended it, he beheld those splendid vapours rolling along in masses far beneath his feet. Among the extraordinary trees and plants which grew upon this mountain is that red rose, about the size of the palm of the hand, upon the leaves of which the Mohammedans imagine they can read the name of God and of the Prophet. Two roads lead to the top of this mountain, of which the one is said to be that of Bābā, or Adam; the other, that of Māmā, or Eve. The latter is winding, sloping, and easy of ascent, and is therefore chosen by the pilgrims impatient on their first arrival to visit the Blessed Foot; but whoever departs without having also climbed the rough and difficult road of Bābā, is thought not to have performed the pilgrimage at all. The mark of the foot, which is eleven spans in length, is in a rock upon the very apex of the mountain. In the same rock, surrounding the impression of the foot, there are nine small excavations, into which the pagan pilgrims, who imagine it to be the print of Buddha’s foot instead of that of Adam, put gold, rubies, and other jewels; and hence the fakeers who come hither on pilgrimage strenuously endeavour to outstrip each other in their race up the mountain, that they may seize upon those treasures.

In returning from the pilgrimage our traveller saw that sacred cypress-tree the leaves of which never fall, or if they do, drop off so seldom that it is thought that the person who finds one and eats it will return again to the blooming season of youth, however old he may be. When Ibn Batūta passed by the tree, he saw several Jogees beneath it, watching for the dropping of a leaf; but whether they ever tasted of the joys of rejuvenescence, or quickened the passage of their souls into younger bodies, he does not inform us.

Returning thence to Battalā, he embarked on board the same ship which had conveyed him to Ceylon, and departed for Maabar. During the voyage, short as it was, a storm arose which endangered the ship, and put their lives in jeopardy; but they were saved by the bravery of the Hindoo pilots, who put out in their small frail boats, and brought them to land. He was received by his relation, the Sultan Ghietheddin, with great honour and distinction; but this prince being then engaged in war, for the vicissitudes and dangers of which our traveller had never any particular predilection, he departed on a visit to the Rajah of Hinaur. Passing on his way through the city of Fattan, he saw among groves of pomegranate-trees and vines a number of fakeers, one of whom had seven foxes, who breakfasted and dined with him daily, while another had a lion and a gazelle, which lived together as familiarly as the dogs and angolas in a cat-merchant’s cage on the Pont Neuf.

Before he could leave the Maabar country, he was seized with a dangerous fever at Maturah, where the Sultan Ghietheddin died of the same contagious disorder. On his recovery he obtained the new sultan’s permission to continue his journey, and embarking at Kawlam in Malabar, proceeded towards Hinaur. Ibn Batūta was seldom fortunate at sea. Sometimes he was robbed; at other times nearly drowned. The present voyage was the most unfortunate he ever undertook, for the ship being attacked and taken by pirates, he, as well as the rest of the passengers and crew, was robbed of all he possessed, and landed on the coast penniless and nearly naked. He contrived, however, by the aid of the charitable, we presume, to find his way to Kalicut, where, meeting with several merchants and lawyers who had known him in the days of his prosperity at Delhi, he was once more equipped handsomely, and enabled to pursue his romantic adventures. He had at this time some thoughts of returning to the court of the Sultan Mohammed, but fear, or rather prudence, deterred him, and he took the more agreeable route of the Maldive Islands, where he had left a little boy with his native mother. It seems to have been his intention to have taken away the child; but as the laws of the country forbade the emigration of women, he came away as he went, abandoning his offspring to the affection of its mother.

From hence the bounty of the vizier enabled him to proceed to Bengal, a country then, as now, renowned for its prodigious fertility, and the consequent cheapness of provisions. He still, we find, regarded himself as a servant of the emperor, for Fakraddin, the king or subahdar of Bengal, being then in rebellion against Mohammed, Ibn Batūta avoided being presented to him, and proceeded towards Tibet, for the purpose of visiting a famous saint, who wrought “great and notable” miracles, and lived to the great age of one hundred and fifty years. This great man, who was accustomed to fast ten days at a time, and sit up all night, foresaw supernaturally the visit of Ibn Batūta, and sent forth four of his companions to meet him at the distance of two days’ journey, observing, “A western religious traveller is coming to you; go out and meet him.”

On arriving at the cell he found the sheïkh prepared to receive him; and with this great saint and his followers he remained three days. On the day of our traveller’s presentation the sheïkh wore a fine yellow garment, for which in his heart Ibn Batūta conceived an unaccountable longing; and the saint, who, it seems, could read the thoughts of men, as well as the secrets of futurity, immediately went to the side of the cave, and taking it off, together with his fillet and his sleeves, put the whole upon his guest. The fakeers informed Batūta, however, that the sage had predicted that the garment would be taken away by an infidel king, and given to the Sheïkh Borhaneddin of Sagirj, for whom it was made; but Batūta replied, “Since I have a blessing from the sheïkh, and since he has clothed me with his own clothes, I will never enter with them into the presence of any king, whether infidel or Moslem.” The prediction, however, was accomplished, for the Emperor of China took away the garment, and bestowed it upon the very Borhaneddin in question.

Descending from these mountains to the seashore, he embarked at Sutirkawan for Sumatra, and touching on the way at certain islands, which may, perhaps, have been the greater and lesser Andamans, saw a people with mouths like dogs, who wore no clothing, and were totally destitute of religion. Leaving these islands, they arrived in fifteen days at Sumatra, a green and blooming island, where the frankincense, the cocoanut, the Indian aloe, the sweet orange, and the camphor-reed were found in great abundance. Proceeding to the capital, our traveller was hospitably received by the Sultan Jemaleddin, a pious and munificent prince, who walked to his prayers on Friday, and was peculiarly partial to the professors of the Mohammedan law; while in the arts of government and war he exhibited great talents, keeping his infidel neighbours in awe of him, and maintaining among his own subjects a great enthusiasm for his person.

After remaining here fifteen days, partaking of the hospitality of the Sultan Jemaleddin, our traveller departed in a junk for China, where, after a pleasant and prosperous voyage, he arrived in safety, and found himself surrounded by new wonders. This, he thought, was the richest and most fertile country he had ever visited. Mohammedanism, however, had made little or no progress among the yellow men, for he observes that they were all infidels, worshipping images, and burning their dead, like the Hindoos. The emperor, at this period, was a descendant of Genghis Khan, who seems to have so far tolerated the Mohammedans, that they had a separate quarter allotted to them in every town, where they resided apart from the pagans. Ibn Batūta seems to have regarded the Chinese with a secret disgust, for he observes that they would eat the flesh of both dogs and swine, which was sold publicly in their markets. Though greatly addicted to the comforts and pleasures of life, the distinctions of rank were not very apparent among them, the richest merchants dressing, like the commonalty, in a coarse cotton dress, and all making use, in walking, of a staff, which was called “the third leg.” In the extreme cheapness of silks, our traveller might have discovered the reason why the richest merchants wore cotton; for, as he himself observes, one cotton dress would purchase many silk ones, which, accordingly, were the usual dress of the poorer classes.

The internal trade and commerce of the country was carried on with paper money, which, as Marco Polo likewise observes, had totally superseded the use of the dirhem and the dinar. These bank-notes, if we may so apply the term, were about the size of the palm of the hand, and were stamped with the royal stamp. When torn accidentally, or worn out by use, these papers could be carried to what may be termed their mint, and changed without loss for new ones, the emperor being satisfied with the profits accruing from their circulation. No other money was in use. Whatever gold and silver was possessed by individuals was melted into ingots, and placed for show over the doors of their houses.

The perfection to which the Chinese of those days had carried the elegant and useful arts appeared extraordinary to our traveller, who dwells with vast complacency upon the beauty of their paintings and the peculiar delicacy of their porcelain. One example of their ingenuity amused him exceedingly. Returning after a short absence to one of their cities, through which he had just passed, he found the walls and houses ornamented with portraits of himself and his companions. This, however, was a mere police regulation, intended to familiarize the people with the forms and features of strangers, that should they commit any crime they might be easily recognised. Ships found to contain any article not regularly entered in the custom-house register were confiscated; “a species of oppression,” says our traveller, “which I witnessed nowhere else.” Strangers, on their first arrival, placed themselves and their property in the keeping of some merchant or innkeeper, who was answerable for the safety of both. The Chinese, regarding their children as property, sell them whenever they can get a purchaser, which renders slaves both male and female extremely cheap among them; and as chastity appears to possess little or no merit in their eyes, travellers are in the habit of purchasing, on their arrival in any city, a slave girl, who resides with them while they remain, and at their departure is either sold again, like an ordinary piece of furniture, or taken away along with them to be disposed of elsewhere. The severity of their police regulations proves that their manners had even then arrived at that pitch of corruption in which little or no reliance is to be placed on moral influence, the place of which is supplied by caution, vigilance, and excessive terror. Strangers moved about in the midst of innumerable guards, who might, perhaps, be considered as much in the light of spies as defenders. Fear predominated everywhere; the traveller feared his host, and the host the traveller. Religion, honour, morals had no power, or rather no existence. Hence the low pitch beyond which the civilization of China has never been able to soar, and that retrogradation towards barbarism which has long commenced in that country, and is rapidly urging the population towards the miserable condition in which they were plunged before the times of Yaon and Shan, who drew them out of their forests and caverns.

To proceed, however, with the adventures of our traveller. The first great city at which he arrived he denominated El Zaitūn, which was the place where the best coloured and flowered silks in the empire were manufactured. It was situated upon a large arm of the sea, and being one of the finest ports in the world, carried on an immense trade, and overflowed with wealth and magnificence. He next proceeded to Sin Kilan, another city on the seashore, beyond which, he was informed, neither Chinese nor Mohammedan ever travelled, the inhabitants of those parts being fierce, inhospitable, and addicted to cannibalism. In a cave without this city was a hermit, or more properly an impostor, who pretended to have arrived at the great age of two hundred years without eating, drinking, or sleeping. Ibn Batūta, who could not, of course, avoid visiting so great and perfect a being, going to his cell, found him to be a thin, beardless, copper-coloured old man, possessing all the external marks of a saint. When the worthy traveller saluted him, instead of returning his salutation, he seized his hand, and smelt it; and then, turning to the interpreter, he said, “This man is just as much attached to this world as we are to the next.” Upon further discourse, it appeared that the saint and the traveller had met before, the former being, in fact, a jogee, whom Ibn Batūta had seen many years before leaning against the wall of an idol temple in the island of Sindibur. Saints, as well as other men, are sometimes imprudent. The jogee had no sooner made this confession than he repented of it, and, retreating into his cell, immediately disguised himself, so that the traveller, who he suspected would forcibly follow him, could not upon entering recognise his person in the least. To infuse into his visiter’s mind the belief that he possessed the power of rendering himself invisible, he informed him that he had seen the last of the holy men, who, though at that moment present, was not to be seen. On returning to the city, our traveller was assured by the judge of the place that it was the same person who had appeared to him both within and without the cave, and that, in fact, the good man was fond of playing such tricks.

Returning to El Zaitūn, he proceeded towards the capital, and halted a little at the city of Fanjanfūr, which, from the number and beauty of its gardens, in some measure resembled Damascus. Here, at a banquet to which he was invited, the remembrance of home was forcibly recalled to his mind by a very affecting and unexpected meeting. He was sitting at table, among his jovial entertainers, when a great Mohammedan fakeer, who entered and joined the company, attracted his attention; and as he continued to gaze earnestly at him for some time, the man at length observed him, and said, “Why do you continue looking at me, unless you know me?” To this Ibn Batūta replied, by demanding the name of his native place. “I am,” said the man, “from Ceuta.”—“And I,” replied Ibn Batūta, “am from Tangiers.” By that peculiar structure of the mind which gives associations of ideas, whether pleasurable or painful, so thorough an empire over our feelings, the very enunciation of those two sounds melted and subdued the temper of their souls. The fakeer saluted him, and wept; and the traveller, returning his salute, wept also. Ibn Batūta then inquired whether he had ever been in India, and was informed that he had remained for some time in the imperial palace of Delhi. A sudden recollection now flashed upon our traveller’s mind: “Are you, then, El Bashiri?” said he; and the fakeer replied, “I am he.” Ibn Batūta now knew who he was, and remembered that while yet a youth without a beard he had travelled with his uncle, Abul Kasim, from Africa to Hindostan; and that he himself had afterward recommended him as an able repeater of the Koran to the emperor, though the fakeer, preferring liberty and a rambling life, had refused to accept of any office. He was now in possession, however, of both rank and riches, and bestowed many presents upon his former benefactor. To show the wandering disposition of the men, our traveller remarks that he shortly after met with the brother of this fakeer at Sondan, in the heart of Africa.

Still proceeding on his way, he next arrived at the city of El Khausa (no doubt the Kinsai of Marco Polo), which he pronounces the longest he had ever seen on the face of the earth; and to give some idea of its prodigious extent, observes, that a traveller might journey on through it for three days, and still find lodgings. As the Chinese erect their houses in the midst of gardens, like the natives of Malabar, and enclose within the walls what may be termed parks and meadows, the population of their cities is never commensurate with their extent; so that their largest capitals may be regarded as inferior in population to several cities of Europe. However, the flames of civil war, which then raged with inextinguishable fury through the whole empire, prevented our traveller from visiting Khan Balik, the Cambalu of Marco Polo and the older geographers, and the Peking of the Chinese; and therefore he returned to El Zaitūn, where he embarked on board a Mohammedan vessel bound for Sumatra. During this voyage, in which they were driven by a tempest into unknown seas, both our traveller and the crew of the ship in which he sailed mistook a cloud for an island, and, being driven towards it by the wind, suffered, by anticipation, all the miseries of shipwreck. Some betook themselves to prayer and repentance; others made vows. In the mean while night came on, the wind died away, and in the morning, when they looked out for their island, they found that it had ascended into the air, while a bright current of light flowed between it and the sea. New fears now seized upon the superstitious crew. Escaped from shipwreck, they began to imagine that the dusky body which they discovered at a distance hovering in the sky was no other than the monstrous rock-bird which makes so distinguished a figure in the Arabian Nights’ Entertainment; and they had little doubt, that should it perceive them, it would immediately pounce upon and devour both them and their ship. The wind blowing in a contrary direction, they escaped, however, from the rock, and in the course of two months arrived safely in Java, where our traveller was honourably received and entertained by the king.

Remaining here two months, and receiving from the sultan presents of lignum, aloes, camphire, cloves, sandal-wood, and provisions, he at length departed in a junk bound for Kawlam, in Malabar, where, after a voyage of forty days, he arrived; and visiting Kalikut and Zafār, again departed for the Persian Gulf. Traversing a portion of Persia and Mesopotamia, he entered Syria; and the desire of visiting his native place now springing up in his heart, he hastened, after once more performing the pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina, to embark for Barbary, and arrived at Fez in 1350, after an absence of twenty-six years. Though received in the most distinguished manner by his native sovereign, who, in his opinion, united all the good and great qualities of all the great princes he had seen, and believing, like a true patriot, that his own country of all the regions of the earth was the most beautiful, the old habit of locomotion was still too strong to be subdued; and imagining he should enjoy peculiar pleasure in warring for the true faith, he passed over into Spain, where the Mohammedans were then engaged in vanquishing or eradicating the power of the Christians. The places which here principally commanded his attention were, the Hill of Victory (Gibraltar), and Granada, whose suburbs, surpassing those of Damascus itself, and intersected by the sparkling waters of the Xenil, appeared to him the finest in the whole world.

From Spain Ibn Batūta again passed into Africa, apparently without at all engaging in the war against the Christians, and, after traversing the cultivated districts, entered the great desert of Sahara, through which he proceeded, without meeting with village or habitation for five-and-twenty days, when they arrived at Tagāzā, or Thagari, a place built entirely of rock salt. Proceeding onwards through the desert, in this portion of which there is neither water, bird, nor tree, and where the dazzling burning sand is whirled aloft in vast clouds, and driven along with prodigious rapidity by the winds, they arrived in ten days at the city of Abu Latin, the first inhabited place in the kingdom of Sondan. Here our traveller was so exceedingly disgusted with the character of the negroes, who exhibited unmitigated contempt for all white people, that he at first resolved to return without completing his design; but the travelling passion prevailed, he remained at Abu Latin fifty days, studying the manners and customs of the inhabitants. Contrary to the general rule, he found the women beautiful and the men not jealous; the effect, in all probability, of unbounded corruption of manners.

Proceeding thence to Mali, or Melli, and remaining there a short time, being honourably received and presented with valuable gifts by the king, he next departed for Timbuctoo, which at that time appears to have been quite an inferior place, dependent on Mali. Returning thence by the way of Sigilmāsa to Fez, in the year 1353, he there concluded his wanderings, and in all probability employed the remainder of his life in the composition of those travels of which we merely possess a meager abridgment, the most complete copy of which was brought to England by Mr. Burckhardt. The translation of this abridgment by Professor Lee, useful as it is, must be rendered greatly more valuable by extending the English, and rejecting the Arabic notes; and by the addition of an index, which would facilitate the study of the work. How long Ibn Batūta survived his return to his native country, and whether the travels were his own work, are facts of which nothing is known.

LEO AFRICANUS.

Born about 1486.—Died about 1540.

The original name of this distinguished traveller was Al Hassan Ben Mohammed Al Vazan, surnamed Fezzani, on account of his having studied and passed the greater part of his youth at Fez. He was, however, a native of the city of Granada in Spain, where he appears to have been born about the year 1486 or 1487. When this city, the last stronghold of Islamism in the Peninsula, was besieged by the Christians in 1491, the parents of Leo, who were a branch of the noble family of Zaid, passed over into Africa, taking their son, then a child, along with them, and established themselves at Fez, the capital of the Mohammedan kingdom of the same name. Fez, at this period the principal seat of Mohammedan learning in Africa, was no less distinguished among the cities of Islamism for the magnificence and splendour of its mosques, palaces, caravansaries, and gardens; yet Leo, who already exhibited a vigorous and independent character, preferred the tranquil and salubrious retreat of Habbed’s Camp, a small place originally founded by a hermit, upon a mountain six miles from the capital, and commanding a view both of the city and its environs. Here he passed four delightful summers in study and retirement.

Having at the age of fourteen completed his studies, he became secretary or registrar to a caravanserai, at a salary of three golden dinars per month, and this office he filled during two years. At the expiration of this period, about the year 1502, he accompanied his uncle on an embassy from the King of Fez to the Sultan of Timbuctoo, and in that renowned assemblage of hovels he remained four years. On his return from this city, which he afterward visited at a more mature age, he made a short stay at Tefza, the capital of a small independent territory in the empire of Morocco. The city was large and flourishing; the people wealthy; but divisions arising among them, several individuals of distinction were driven into exile, who, repairing to the King of Fez, conjured him to grant them a certain number of troops, in return for which they engaged to reduce their native city, and place it in his hands. The troops were granted—the city reduced—the chiefs of the popular party thrown into prison. The business now being to extort from them the greatest possible sum of money, they were informed, that unless they immediately produced wherewith to defray the expenses of the expedition, they should without delay be transported to Fez, where the king would not fail to exact from them at least double the amount. Being aware into what hands they were fallen, the chiefs consented, and desired their wives and relatives to produce the money. The ladies of course obeyed; but in order to make it appear that they had achieved the matter with the utmost difficulty, and had in fact collected all they possessed in the world, they included their rings, bracelets, and other ornaments and jewels, the whole amounting to about twenty-eight thousand golden dinars. This sum exceeding what had been demanded, there appeared to be no longer any pretence for detaining the men in prison; but the general, imagining that persons who possessed so much must infallibly possess more, could not prevail upon himself to part with them so easily. Therefore, calling together the prisoners, who were about forty-two in number, he informed them in a tone of great commiseration that he had just received letters from the king, peremptorily commanding him to put them all to death without delay, and that of course he could not dare to disobey the orders of his sovereign. At these words indescribable terror and consternation seizing upon the prisoners, they wept bitterly, and in the poignancy of their anguish conjured the chief to have mercy upon them. The worthy soldier, who had apparently been educated at court, shed tears also, and seemed to be overwhelmed with sorrow and perplexity. While they were in this dilemma, a man who appeared to be totally new to the affair entered, and upon hearing the whole state of the case, gave it as his opinion that the severity of the king might be mitigated by a large sum of money. The prisoners, who appeared to revive at these words, forgetting that, according to their own account, the former mulct had exhausted all their means, now offered immense sums in exchange for their lives, not only to the king, but likewise to the general. This being the point aimed at, their offer was of course accepted; and having paid eighty-four thousand pieces of gold to the king, and rewarded the astute general with a costly present of horses, slaves, and perfumes, the poor men were at length liberated. Leo, who was present at this transaction, admires the extraordinary ingenuity of mankind in extorting money; and observes that some time after this his majesty of Fez extracted a still larger sum from a single Jew.

The chronology of our traveller’s various expeditions it is difficult if not impossible to determine; but he appears shortly after this characteristic affair to have made an excursion into those vast plains, or deserts, of Northern Africa, inhabited by the Bedouins, where he amused himself with contemplating the rude character and manners of this primitive people. His first attempt, however, to visit these wild tribes was unsuccessful. Setting out from Fez, and traversing a mountainous and woody country, abounding in fountains and rivulets, and extremely fertile, he arrived at the foot of Mount Atlas, whose sides were covered with vast forests, while its summits were capped with snow. The merchants who cross this tremendous mountain with fruit from the date country usually arrive about the end of October, but are often surprised in their passage by snow-storms, which, in the course of a few hours, not only bury both carriages and men, but even the trees, so that not a vestige of them remains visible. When the sun melts the snow in the spring, then the carriages and the bodies of the dead are found.

It was some time in the month of October that Leo arrived with a large company of merchants at the ascent of Atlas, where they were overtaken about sunset by a storm of blended snow and hail, accompanied by the most piercing cold. As they were toiling upwards, they encountered a small troop of Arab horsemen, who, inviting our traveller to descend from his carriage and bear them company, promised to conduct him to an agreeable and secure asylum. Though entertaining considerable doubts of their intentions, he could not venture to refuse; but while he accepted of their civility, he began to revolve in his mind the means of concealing from them the wealth which he bore about his person. The horsemen, however, were all mounted and impatient to be on the march; he had, therefore, not a moment to lose, but pretending a pressing necessity for stepping aside for an instant, he retreated behind a tree, and deposited his money among a heap of stones at the foot of it. Then carefully observing the spot, he returned to the Arabs, who immediately began their journey. They travelled rapidly till about midnight without uttering a word, battered by the storm and severely pinched by the cold; when, having reached a spot proper for the purpose they had in view, they stopped suddenly, and one of them, coming close up to our traveller, demanded of him what wealth he had about him. He replied that he had none, having intrusted one of his fellow-travellers with his money. This the Arabs refused to believe, and, in order to satisfy themselves upon the point, commanded him, without considering the bitterness of the weather, to strip himself to the skin. When he had done so, and was found to be as penniless as he was naked, they burst into a loud laugh, pretending that what they had done was merely to ascertain whether he was a hardy man or not, and could endure the biting of the cold and the fury of the tempest. They now once more proceeded on their way, as swiftly as the darkness of the night and the roughness of the weather would permit, until they perceived by the bleating of sheep that they were approaching the habitations of men. This sound serving them for a guide, they dashed away through thick woods and over steep rocks, to the great hazard of their necks; and at length arrived at an immense cavern, where they found a number of shepherds, who, having driven in all their flocks, had kindled a blazing fire, and were eagerly crowding round it on account of the cold.

Observing that their visiters were Arabs, the shepherds were at first greatly terrified; but being by degrees persuaded that they intended them no harm, and merely demanded shelter from the inclemency of the weather, they recovered their self-possession, and entertained them with the most generous hospitality. After supper, the whole company stretched themselves round the fire, and slept soundly until next morning. The snow still continuing to fall, they remained two whole days in this wild retreat; but on the third the weather clearing up, a passage was cut through the snow, and merging into daylight they mounted their horses, and descended towards the plains of Fez, the kindly shepherds acting as their guides through the difficult passes of the mountains. They now learned that the caravan with which Leo was travelling when encountered by the Arabs, had been overwhelmed by the snow; so that no hope of plunder being left, our traveller’s friendly preservers seized upon a Jew with the design of extorting a large ransom from him; and borrowing Leo’s horse in order to convey the Hebrew prize to their tents, they commended its master to the mercy of fortune and the winds, and departed. Good luck, or the charity of some benevolent hind, furnished our traveller with a mule, upon which he made his way in three days to the capital.

Not being discouraged by this adventure, which, when safely concluded, appeared rather romantic than unfortunate, he again bent his steps towards the desert, and at length succeeded in his attempt to become the guest of the children of Ishmael. Here he found himself surrounded by that fierce and untameable people, who, having to their natural wildness and ferocity added those qualities of perfidiousness and treachery which the venom of the African soil appears to engender inevitably, might be regarded as the most dangerous of all those barbarians among whom civilized man could expose himself. Hunting the lion, taming the most fiery coursers, in short, all violent exercises, and bloodshed, and war, were their daily recreations. Nevertheless some traces of the milder manners of Arabia remained. Poetry, adapting itself to the tastes of these rude men, celebrated in songs burning with energy and enthusiasm the prowess and exploits of their warriors, the beauty of their women, the savage but sublime features of their country, or the antiquity and glory of their race. Making their sword the purveyor of their desires, they enjoyed whatever iron thus fashioned could purchase,—ample tents, costly and magnificent garments, vessels of copper or of brass, with abundance of silver and gold. In summer moving northward before the sun, they poured down upon the cultivated country lying along the shores of the Mediterranean, through a thousand mountain defiles, and collecting both fruit and grain as they were ripened by its rays, watched the retreat of the great luminary towards the southern tropic, and pursued its fiery track across the desert.

Returning from this expedition without undergoing any particular hardships, he shortly afterward passed into Morocco, where he remained during several years, visiting its most celebrated cities, mountains, and deserts, and carefully studying the manners of its inhabitants under all their aspects. The first place of any note which he examined was Mount Magran. Here, amid wild Alpine scenes, and peaks covered with eternal snow, he found a people whose simple manners carried back his imagination to the first ages of the world. In winter they had no fixed habitations, but dwelt in large baskets, the sides of which were formed of the bark of trees, and the roof of wicker-work. These they removed from place to place on the backs of mules, stopping and dismounting their houses wherever they met with pasture for their flocks. During the warm months, however, they erected huts of larger dimensions, roofing them with green boughs, and provender for their cattle being plentiful, remained stationary. To defend their flocks and herds from the cold, which is there always severe during the night, they kindled immense fires close to their doors, which, emitting too great a flame when fanned by tempestuous winds, sometimes caught their combustible dwellings, and endangered the lives both of themselves and their cattle. They were likewise exposed to the daily hazard of being devoured by lions or wolves, animals which abound in that savage region.

From hence he proceeded to Mount Dedas, a lofty chain eighty miles in length, covered with vast forests, and fertilized by a prodigious number of fountains and rivulets. On the summit of this ridge were then found the ruins of a very ancient city, on the white walls and solitary monuments of which there existed numerous inscriptions, but couched in a language and characters totally unknown to the inhabitants, some of whom supposed it to have been built by the Romans, though no mention of the place occurs in any African historian. The wretched race then inhabiting the mountain dwelt in caverns, or in huts of stones rudely piled upon each other. Their whole riches consisted in large droves of asses and flocks of goats; barley bread with a little salt and milk was their only food; and scarcely the half of their bodies were covered by their miserable garments. Yet the caverns in which they and their goats lay down promiscuously abounded in nitre, which in any civilized country would have sufficed to raise them to a state of opulence. The manners of these troglodytes were execrable. Living without hope and without God in the world, they fearlessly perpetrated all manner of crimes, treachery, thieving, open robbery, and murder. The women were still more ragged and wretched than the men, and the traveller found it, upon the whole, the most disagreeable place in all Africa.

As Leo did not make any regular tour of the country, but repaired now to one place, now to another, as business or accident impelled him, we find him to-day at one end of Morocco, and when the next date is given he is at the opposite extremity. Nothing, therefore, is left the biographer but to follow as nearly as possible the order of time. Towards the conclusion of the year in which he crossed Mount Dedas in his way to Segelmessa, he proceeded with Sheriff, a Moorish chief, in whose service he happened to be, towards the western provinces of Morocco, and travelling with a powerful escort, or rather with an army, had little or nothing to fear from the most sanguinary and perfidious of the barbarian tribes. One of the most remarkable places visited during this excursion was El Eusugaghen, the “City of Murderers.” The mere description of the manners of its inhabitants makes the blood run cold. The city, erected on the summit of a lofty mountain, was surrounded by no gardens, and shaded by no fruit-trees. Barley and oil were the only produce of the soil. The poorer portion of the inhabitants went barefoot throughout the year, the richer wore a rude species of mocassin, fabricated from the hide of the camel or the ox. All their thoughts, all their desires tended towards bloodshed and war, and so fierce were their struggles with their neighbours, so terrible the slaughter, so unmitigated and unrelenting their animosity, that, according to the forcible expression of the traveller himself, they deserved rather to be called dogs than men. Nor was their disposition towards each other more gentle. No man ventured to step over the threshold of his own door into the street without carrying a dagger or a spear in his hand: and as they did not appear inclined to bear their weapons in vain, were restrained by no principles of religion or justice, and were utterly insensible to pity, cries of “murder!” in the street were frequent and startling.

This atrocious stronghold of murderers was situated in the district over which Sheriff claimed the sovereignty, and his visit to the place was undertaken in the hope of introducing something like law and justice. The number of accusations of theft, robbery, and murder was incredible; and dire was the dissension, the commotion, the noise which everywhere prevailed. As Sheriff had brought with him neither lawyers nor magistrates who might undertake to compose their differences, Leo, as a man learned in the Koran, was earnestly conjured to fulfil this terrible office. No sooner had he consented than two men rushed in before him, accusing each other of the most abominable crimes, the one averring that the other had murdered eight of his relations; and the latter, who by no means denied the fact, asserting in reply that the former had murdered ten members of his family, and that, therefore, as the balance was in his favour, he should, according to the custom of the country, be paid a certain sum of money for the additional loss he had sustained. The murderer of ten, on the other hand, argued that it was to him that the price of blood should be paid, for that the persons whom he had slain had suffered justly, since they had violently seized upon a farm which belonged to him, and that he could in no other way gain possession of his right; while his own relations had fallen the victims of the mere atrocity of the other murderer. Such were the mutual accusations in which the first day was consumed. The evening coming on, Leo and the chieftain retired to rest; but in the dead of the night they were suddenly awakened by terrific shouts and yells, and springing hastily from their couches, and running to the window, they saw an immense crowd rushing into the market-place, and fighting with so much fury and bloodshed, that to have beheld them the most iron nature must have been shocked; so that, dreading lest some plot or conspiracy might be hatching against himself, the chieftain made his escape as rapidly as possible, taking the traveller along with him.

From this den they proceeded towards the city of Teijent, and on the way began to imagine that, according to the vulgar proverb, they had fallen out of the fryingpan into the fire; for night coming upon them in a solitary place, where neither village nor caravansary was nigh, Leo and his companion, who happened to be separated from the chieftain’s army, were compelled to take refuge in a small wooden house which had fallen to decay on the road-side. It being extremely hot weather, they fastened their horses to a post in the lower room, stopping up the gaps in the enclosure with thorns and bushes, and then retreated to the house-top, to enjoy as far as possible the freshness of the air. The night was already far advanced, when two enormous lions, attracted by the scent of the horses, approached the ruin, and threw them into the greatest consternation; for the least violence would have shaken down their frail tenement, and thrown them out into the lions’ mouths, and their horses, maddened by fear, and shuddering at the terrible voice of the lions, began to neigh and snort in the most furious manner. To increase their fears, they heard the ferocious animals striving to tear away the briery fence with which they had closed up the doors and openings in the wall, and which they every moment dreaded might at length give way. In this situation they passed the night; but when the dawn appeared, and light began to infuse life into the cool landscape, the lions, feeling that their hour was gone by, retreated to their dens in the forests, and left the travellers to pursue their journey.

Having remained a short time at Teijent, he proceeded towards the north-west through Tesegdeltum to Tagtessa, a city built upon the apex of a conical hill, where he saw the earth covered by so prodigious a cloud of locusts that they seemed to outnumber the blades of grass. From this city he travelled to Eitdevet, where he refreshed himself after his various toils by conversing with learned Jews and Ulemas on knotty points of law, and by gazing on the women, whose plump round forms and rich complexions delighted him exceedingly. To keep up the interest of his journey, and diversify the scene a little, he was a few days afterward fired at by the subject of an heretical chief, who inhabited a mountain fortress, and amused himself with laying true believers under contribution; but escaped the danger, and succeeded in reaching Tefetne, a small city on the seashore. Here sufferings of a new kind awaited him. Not from the people, for they were humane and friendly towards strangers; but from certain dependants of theirs, whose assiduous attentions made the three days which Leo spent among these good-natured people appear to be so many ages. In short, notwithstanding that he was lodged in a magnificent caravansary, he was nearly stung to death by fleas! The cause of the extraordinary abundance of these active little animals at Tefetne, though it seems never to have occurred to our curious traveller, is discoverable in a circumstance which he accidentally mentions—the Portuguese traded to this city. This likewise may account for another little peculiarity which distinguished this part from the neighbouring towns, though not greatly to its advantage: the stench, he tells us, which diffused itself on all sides, and assaulted the nostrils night and day, was so powerful that his senses were at length compelled to succumb, and he retreated before the victorious odour.

In order somewhat to sweeten his imagination, he now struck off from the seacoast, where the towns are generally infested by unpleasant smells, in order to visit those wild tribes that inhabit the western extremity of Mount Atlas. Here the scenery, sparkling through a peculiarly transparent atmosphere, was rich, picturesque, and beautiful. Innumerable fountains, shaded by lofty spreading trees, among which the walnut was conspicuous, sprung forth from the bosom of the hills, and leaping down over rocks and precipices amid luxuriant foliage, united in the sunny valleys, and formed many cool and shining streams. This fertile region was well stocked with inhabitants—farms and villas everywhere peeping from between the trees, and refreshing the eye of the traveller. The inhabitants, however, though clothed superbly, and glittering with rings and other ornaments of gold and silver, were immersed in the grossest ignorance, and addicted beyond credibility to every odious and revolting vice. From thence, after a short stay, he returned towards the coast, and arrived at Messa, a city surrounded by groves of palm-trees and richly-cultivated fields, and situated about a mile distant from the sea, close to which there was a mosque, the beams and rafters of which were formed of the bones of whales. Here, according to the traditions of the place, the prophet Jonah was cast on shore by the whale, when he attempted to escape from the necessity of preaching repentance to the Ninevites; and it is the opinion of the people, that if any of this species of fish attempt to swim past this temple along the shore, he is immediately stricken dead by some miraculous influence of the edifice, and cast up by the waves upon the beach; and it is certain that many carcasses of these enormous animals are annually found upon that part of the coast of Morocco, as also large quantities of amber.

Proceeding along the shore, and examining whatever appeared deserving of attention, he once more betook himself to the mountains, where, among the rude and lawless tribes which inhabited them, he found a more extraordinary system of manners, and stood a better chance of gratifying his love of enterprise and adventure. Traversing the savage defiles of Mount Nififa, whose inhabitants wholly employ themselves in the care of goats and bees, he arrived at Mount Surede, where he became engaged in a very whimsical scene. Cut off by their solitary and remote position from frequent intercourse with the rest of the world, these thick-headed mountaineers had no conception of law or civilization, no idea of which ever entered their minds, except when some stranger, distinguished for his good sense and modest manners, made his appearance among them. Still they were not, like many of the neighbouring tribes, altogether destitute of religion; and when Leo arrived, he was received and entertained by a priest, who set before him the usual food of the inhabitants, a little barley-meal boiled in water, and goat’s flesh, which might be conjectured from its toughness to have belonged to some venerable example of longevity. These savoury viands, which they ate squatted on their haunches like monkeys, appear to have been so little to the taste of Leo, that, in order to avoid the impiety of devouring such patriarchal animals, he resolved to depart next morning at the peep of dawn; but as he was preparing to mount his beast, about fifty of the inhabitants crowded about him, and enumerating their grievances and wrongs, requested him to judge between them. He replied, that he was totally ignorant of their customs and manners. This, he was told, signified nothing. It was the custom of the place, that whenever any stranger paid them a visit, he was constrained before his departure to try and determine all the causes which, like suits in the Court of Chancery, might have been accumulating for half a century; and to convince him that they were in earnest, and would hear of no refusal they forthwith took away his horse, and requested him to commence operations. Seeing there was no remedy, he submitted with as good a grace as possible; and during nine days and nights had his ears perpetually stunned by accusations, pleadings, excuses, and, what was still worse, was obliged daily to devour the flesh of animals older than Islamism itself. On the evening of the eighth day the natives, being greatly satisfied with his mode of distributing justice, and desirous of encouraging him to complete his Herculean labours, promised that on the next day he should receive a magnificent reward; and as he hoped they meant to recompense him with a large sum of money, the night which separated him from so great a piece of good fortune seemed an age. The dawn, therefore, had no sooner appeared than he was stirring; and the people, who were equally in earnest, requesting him to place himself in the porch of the mosque, made a short speech after their manner, which being finished, the presents were brought up with the utmost respect. To his great horror, instead of the gold which his fancy had been feeding upon, he saw his various clients approach, one with a cock, another with a quantity of nuts, a third with onions; while such as meant to be more magnificent brought him a goat. There was, in fact, no money in the place. Not being able to remove his riches, he left the goats and onions to his worthy host; and departed with a guard of fifty soldiers, which his grateful clients bestowed upon him to defend his person in the dangerous passes through which he had to travel.

From hence, still proceeding along the lofty mountainous ridge, whose pinnacles are covered with eternal snow, he repaired to Mount Seusava, a district inhabited by warlike tribes, who, though engaged in perpetual hostilities with their neighbours, understood the use of no offensive arms except the sling, from which, however, they threw stones with singular force and precision. The food of these gallant emulators of the ancient Rhodians consisted of barley-meal and honey, to which was occasionally added a little goat’s flesh. The arts of peace, which the warriors, perhaps, were too proud or too lazy to cultivate with any degree of assiduity, were here exercised chiefly by Jews, who manufactured very good earthenware, reaping-hooks, and horse-shoes. Their houses were constructed of rough stones, piled upon each other without cement. Nevertheless, a great number of learned men, whose advice was invariably taken and followed by the natives, was found here, among whom Leo met with several who had formerly been his fellow-students at Fez, and now not only received him with kindness and hospitality, but, moreover, accompanied him on his departure to a considerable distance from the mountain.

He now peacefully pursued his journey; and after witnessing the various phenomena of these mountain regions, where the date-tree and the avalanche, the fir and the orange-tree are near neighbours, again descended into the plainer and more cultivated portion of Morocco, and after numerous petty adventures, not altogether unworthy of being recorded, but yet too numerous to find a place here, arrived at Buluchuan, a small city upon the river Ommirabih. Here travellers were usually received and entertained with distinguished hospitality, not being allowed to spend any thing during their stay, while splendid caravansaries were erected for their reception, and the citizens, whose munificence was not inferior to their riches, vied with each other in their attentions and civilities. At the period of Leo’s visit, however, the city was in a state of the utmost disorder. The King of Fez had sent his brother with orders to take possession of the whole province of Duccala; but on his arrival at this city, news was brought him that the Prince of Azemore was even then upon his march towards the place with a numerous army, with the intention of demolishing the fortifications, and carrying away the inhabitants into captivity. Upon receiving this information, two thousand horse and eight hundred archers were immediately thrown into Buluchuan; but at the same time arrived a number of Portuguese soldiers, and two thousand Arabs; the latter of whom, first attacking the Fezzians, easily routed them, and put the greater number of the archers to the sword; then turning upon the Portuguese, they cut off a considerable number of their cavalry, and quickly put them also to the rout. Shortly after this, the brother of the King of Fez arrived, and upon undertaking to protect the inhabitants from all enemies to the latest day of his life, received the tribute which he demanded; but being worsted in battle, quickly returned to Fez. The people now perceiving that, notwithstanding the promised protection of the Fezzan king, they were still exposed to all the calamities of war, and feeling themselves unequal to contend unassisted with their numerous enemies, and more particularly dreading the avarice of the Portuguese, deserted their city and their homes, and took refuge upon the promontory of Tedla. Leo, who was present during these transactions, and witnessed the slaughter of the archers, mounted on a swift charger, and keeping at a short distance from the scene of carnage upon the plain, had been delegated by the monarch of Fez to announce the speedy arrival of his brother with his forces.

Some time after this, the King of Fez, once more resolving upon the reduction of the province, arrived in Duccala with an army, bringing Leo, who had now risen to considerable distinction at court, along with him. Arriving at the foot of an eminence of considerable height, denominated by our traveller the Green Mountain, and which divides Duccala from the province of Tedla, the monarch, charmed by the beauties of the place, commanded his tents to be pitched, resolving to spend a few days in pleasure at that calm and delightful solitude. The mountain itself is rugged, and well clothed with woods of oak and pine. Among these, remote from all human intercourse, are the dwellings of numerous hermits, who subsist upon such wild productions of the earth as the place supplies; and here and there scattered among the rocks were great numbers of Mohammedan altars, fountains of water, and ruins of ancient edifices. Near the base of the mountain there was an extensive lake, resembling that of Volsinia in Italy, swarming with prodigious numbers of eels, pikes, and other species of fish, some of which are unknown in Europe. Mohammed, the Fezzan king, now gave orders for a general attack upon the fish of the lake. In a moment, turbans, vests, and nether garments, the sleeves and legs being tied at one end, were transformed into nets, and lowered into the water; and before their owners could look round them pikes were struggling and eels winding about in their capacious breeches. Meanwhile, nineteen thousand horses, and a vast number of camels, plunged into the lake to drink, so that, says Leo, by a certain figure of speech not at all uncommon among travellers, there was scarcely any water left; and the fish were stranded, as it were, in their own dwellings. The sport was continued for eight days; when, being tired of fishing, Mohammed gave orders to explore the recesses of the mountain. The borders of the lake were covered by extensive groves of a species of pine-tree, in which an incredible number of turtle-doves had built their nests; and these, like the fishes of the lake, became the prey of the army. Passing through these groves, the prince and all his troops ascended the mountain. Leo the while keeping close to his majesty among the doctors and courtiers; and as often as they passed by any little chapel, Mohammed, keeping in sight of the whole army, addressed his prayers to the Almighty, calling Heaven to witness that his only motive in coming to Duccala was to deliver it from the tyranny of the Christians and Arabs. Returning in the evening to their tents, they next day proceeded with hounds and falcons, of which the king possessed great numbers, to hunt the wild duck, the wild goose, the turtle-dove, and various other species of birds. Their next expedition was against higher game, such as the hare, the stag, the fallow-deer, the porcupine, and the wolf, and in this kind of chase eagles and falcons were employed as well as dogs; and as no person had beaten up those fields for more than a hundred years, the quantity of game was prodigious. After amusing himself for several days in this manner, the prince, attended by his court and army, returned to Fez, while Leo, with a small body of troops, was despatched upon an embassy to the Emperor of Morocco.

On returning from Morocco, after being hospitably entertained at El Medina, Tagodastum, Bzo, and other cities, he visited the dwelling of a mountain prince, with whom he spent several days in conversations on poetry and literature. Though immoderately greedy of praise, his gentleness, politeness, and liberality rendered him every way worthy of it; and if he did not understand Arabic, he at least delighted to have its beauties explained to him, and highly honoured and valued those who were learned in this copious and energetic language. Our traveller had visited this generous chieftain several years before. Coming well furnished with presents, among which was a volume of poetry containing the praises of celebrated men, and of the prince himself among the rest, he was magnificently received; the more particularly as he himself had composed upon the way a small poem on the same agreeable subject, which he recited to the prince after supper.

The date of our traveller’s various excursions through the kingdom of Fez is unknown, but he apparently, like many other travellers, visited foreign countries before he had examined his own, and I have therefore placed his adventures in Morocco before those which occurred to him at home. In an excursion to the seacoast he passed through Anfa, an extensive city founded by the Romans, on the margin of the ocean, and in a position so salubrious and agreeable that, taking into account the generous character and polished manners of the inhabitants, it might justly be considered the most delightful place in all Africa. From hence he proceeded through Mansora and Nuchailu to Rabat, once a vast and splendid city, abounding with palaces, caravansaries, baths, and gardens, but now, by wars and civil dissensions, reduced to a heap of ruins, rendered doubly melancholy by the figures of a few wretched inhabitants who still clung to the spot, and flitted about like spectres among the dilapidated edifices. The scene, compared with that which the city once presented, was so generative of sad thought, that on beholding it our traveller sank into a sombre revery which ended in tears. From this place he proceeded northward, and passing through many cities, arrived at a small town called Thajiah, in whose vicinity was the ancient tomb of a saint, upon which, according to the traditions of the country, a long catalogue of miracles had been performed, numerous individuals having been preserved by this tomb, but in what manner is not specified, from the jaws of lions and other ferocious beasts. The scene is rugged, the ground steril, the climate severe; yet so high was the veneration in which the sanctity of the tomb was held, that incredible numbers of pilgrims resorted thither in consequence of vows made in situations of imminent danger, and encamping round the holy spot, had the appearance of an army bivouacking in the wood.

In the year 1513, having seen whatever he judged most worthy of notice in Morocco and Fez, and still considering his travels as only begun, he once more left home, and proceeded eastward along the shores of the Mediterranean towards Telemsan and Algiers. Upon entering the former kingdom he abandoned the seacoast, and striking off towards the right, through mountainous ridges of moderate elevation, entered the wild and desolate region called the Desert of Angad, where, amid scanty herds of antelopes, wild goats, and ostriches, the lonely Bedouin wanders, his hand being against every man, and every man’s hand against him. Through this desolate tract the merchant bound from Telemsan to Fez winds his perilous way, dreading the sand-storm, the simoom, the lion, and other physical ministers of death, less than the fierce passions of its gloomy possessors, stung to madness by hunger and suffering. Leo, however, traversed this long waste without accident or adventure, and his curiosity being satisfied, returned to the inhabited part of the country, where, if there was less call for romantic and chivalrous daring, there was at all events more pleasure to be enjoyed, and more knowledge to be acquired. Passing through various small places little noticed by modern geographers, he at length arrived at Hunain, an inconsiderable but handsome city, on the Mediterranean, surrounded by a well-built wall, flanked with towers. Hither the Venetians, excluded from Oran by the Spaniards, who were then masters of that port, brought all the rich merchandise which they annually poured into Telemsan, in consequence of which chiefly the merchants of Hunain had grown rich; and taste and more elegant manners following, as usual, in the train of Plutus, the city was embellished, and the comfort of the inhabitants increased. The houses, constructed in an airy and tasteful style, with verandahs shaded by clustering vines, fountains, and floors exquisitely ornamented with mosaics, were, perhaps, the most agreeable dwellings in Northern Africa; but the inconstant tide of commerce having found other channels, the prosperity of Hunain had already begun to decline.