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.