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.