Their horses there go browsing, and crop the stars that pass,
As other beasts the blossoms that open in the grass!'
After this flight, I think I can afford to omit the string of quotations concerning Damascus, which is celebrated with an equal extravagance. Ibn Batuta gives a very careful account of the great mosque, including its priests and scholars. During his stay the plague raged with such violence that the deaths at one time amounted to two thousand a day. He relates one circumstance which shows that even religious intolerance vanished in times of distress. 'All the inhabitants of the city, men, women, large and small, took part in a procession to the Mosque of El-Akdam, two miles south of Damascus. The Jews came forth with their Pentateuch, and the Christians with their Gospel, followed by their women and children. All wept, supplicated, and sought help from God, through the means of his Word and his prophets. They repaired to the mosque, where they remained, praying and invoking God, until three o'clock in the afternoon. Then they returned to the city, made the prayer of Friday, and the Lord consoled them.'
On the 1st of September, 1326, he left Damascus, with the great caravan of pilgrims, for Mecca. He enumerates all the stations on the route, and his itinerary is almost identical with that which the caravan follows at the present day. Much space is devoted to a description of the religious observances which he followed; and, singularly enough, if any confirmation of his fidelity as a narrator were needed, it is furnished by the work of Captain Burton. The account of the sacred cities of Medineh and Mecca corresponds in every important particular with that of the modern traveler. Thus the integrity of Ibn Batuta, like that of Marco Polo, is established, after the lapse of five hundred years.
In speaking of the chair of Mohammed, which is preserved in the mosque at Medineh, he relates the following beautiful tradition: 'It is said that the ambassador of God at first preached near the trunk of a palm-tree in the mosque, and that after he had constructed the chair and transported it thither, the trunk of the palm-tree groaned, as the female camel groans after her young. Mohammed thereupon went down to the tree and embraced it; after which it remained silent. The Prophet said, "If I had not embraced it, it would have continued to groan until the day of the resurrection."'
After faithfully performing all the observances prescribed for the pilgrim to Mecca, Ibn Batuta left that city and returned to Medineh. He then crossed the Arabian peninsula in a north-eastern direction, to the city of Meshed Ali, near the Euphrates, and thence descended that river to Bassora. Here he gives us two amusing anecdotes, which reflectively illustrate his shrewdness and the sturdiness with which he maintained his religious views. 'The inhabitants of Bassora,' says he, 'are gifted with a generous character. They are familiar with strangers, rendering them that which is their due, in such a manner that no one finds a sojourn among them tiresome. They make their Sunday prayers in the mosque of the Prince of Believers, Ali. I once attended the prayers in this mosque; and when the preacher arose and began to recite the sermon, he made numerous and evident faults. I was surprised thereat, and spoke of it to the judge Hodjat-ed-deen, who answered, "In this city, there is no longer an individual who has any knowledge of grammar." This is an instruction for whoever reflects thereon, and let us praise God, who changes things and reverses the face of affairs! In fact, this city of Bassora, the inhabitants whereof had obtained preëminence in grammar, which there had its origin and received its development,—this city, which gave to the world the master of this noble science, whose priority no one contests,—does not now possess a single preacher who pronounces the Sunday sermon according to grammatical rules!
'The mosque has seven minarets, one of which, according to the belief of the inhabitants, shakes whenever the name of Ali, son of Abou Talib, is invoked. I ascended to the terrace (roof) of this mosque, accompanied by one of the men of Bassora. There I saw, at one of the corners, a piece of wood nailed to the minaret, and resembling the handle of a mason's trowel. He who was with me took hold of it, saying, "By the head of the prince of believers, Ali, shake thyself!" Therewith he shook the handle, and the minaret trembled. In turn, I placed my hand upon it, and I said to the man, "And I say, by the head of Abou Bekr, successor to the Ambassador of God, shake thyself!" Therewith I shook the handle, and the minaret trembled as before. The people were very much astonished.' The amanuensis, Ibn Djozay, here interpolates the following remark: 'I have seen, in a town in the valley of Almansura, in Spain,—which may God defend!—a tower which shakes without the name of a caliph, or anybody else, being mentioned.'
At the city of Idhedj, in Irak, then the capital of one of the many Mongol sultans who at that time reigned in southern Persia, Ibn Batuta gives another proof of his boldness. Calling upon the Sultan Afrasiab, who was notorious for his drunken and dissolute habits, the traveler found him seated upon a divan, with two covered vases—one of gold and one of silver—before him. A green carpet was brought and placed near him, upon which the traveler was invited to take his seat, after which the sultan asked him many questions concerning his travels. 'It seemed to me, however,' says Ibn Batuta, 'that he was quite intoxicated, for I had been previously apprized of his habit of giving himself up to drink. Finally, he said to me in Arabic, which he spoke with elegance. "Speak!" I said to him, "If thou wouldst listen to me, I would say to thee—Thou art one of the children of Sultan Ahmed, celebrated for his piety and devotion; there is no cause of reproach to thee, in thy manner of life, except that!" and I pointed with my finger to the two vases. These words covered him with shame, and he was silent. I wished to withdraw, but he ordered me to keep my seat, and said, "It is a mark of the Divine mercy to meet with such as thou!" Afterwards, seeing that he swayed from side to side, and desired to sleep, I left him. I had placed my sandals at the door, and could not find them again. The Fakir Fadhill sought for them in the hall, and at last brought them to me. His kindness embarrassed me, and I made apologies. Thereupon he kissed my sandals, placed them upon his head, in token of respect, and said to me, "May God bless thee! What thou hast said to our sultan, nobody else would have dared to say. I hope it will make an impression on him!"'
Continuing his journey to Ispahan and Shiraz, he gives us, as usual, conscientious accounts of the mosques, priests, and holy men, but no hint whatever as to his manner of travel, or the character of the country through which he passed. This portion of his work, however, contains many interesting historical fragments, relating to the reigns of the Mongol sultans of Persia, and the dissensions between the two Moslem sects. After a stay of some length at Shiraz, he returned through Irak to the celebrated city of Cufa, and thence to Bagdad, which was then the residence of a simple Mongol prince. Here he describes at length the mosques, colleges, mausoleums and baths, while Ibn Djozay takes occasion to introduce his favorite quotations from the poets. The reader, we think, will find the following more picturesque than the somewhat formal descriptions of Ibn Batuta:—
'Yea, Bagdad is a spacious place for him who's gold, to spend,