The Travels of Marco Polo — Volume 2

Note 1.—The end of the last chapter and the commencement of this I have taken from the G. Text. There has been some confusion in the notes of the original dictation which that represents, and corrections have made it worse. Thus Pauthier’s text runs: “I will tell you of two small Islands, one called Gauenispola and the other Necouran,” and then: “You sail north about 150 miles and find two Islands, one called Necouran and the other Gauenispola.” Ramusio does not mention Gauenispola, but says in the former passage: “I will tell you of a small Island called Nocueran”—and then: “You find two islands, one called Nocueran and the other Angaman.”

Knowing the position of Gauenispola there is no difficulty in seeing how the passage should be explained. Something has interrupted the dictation after the last chapter. Polo asks Rusticiano, “Where were we?” “Leaving the Great Island.” Polo forgets the “very small Island called Gauenispola,” and passes to the north, where he has to tell us of two islands, “one called Necuveran and the other Angamanain.” So, I do not doubt, the passage should run.

Let us observe that his point of departure in sailing north to the Nicobar Islands was the Kingdom of Lambri. This seems to indicate that Lambri included Achin Head or came very near it, an indication which we shall presently see confirmed.

As regards Gauenispola, of which he promised to tell us and forgot his promise, its name has disappeared from our modern maps, but it is easily traced in the maps of the 16th and 17th centuries, and in the books of navigators of that time. The latest in which I have observed it is the Neptune Oriental, Paris 1775, which calls it Pulo Gommes. The name is there applied to a small island off Achin Head, outside of which lie the somewhat larger Islands of Pulo Nankai (or Nási) and Pulo Bras, whilst Pulo Wai lies further east.[1] I imagine, however, that the name was by the older navigators applied to the larger Island of Pulo Bras, or to the whole group. Thus Alexander Hamilton, who calls it Gomus and Pulo Gomuis, says that “from the Island of Gomus and Pulo Wey ... the southernmost of the Nicobars may be seen.” Dampier most precisely applies the name of Pulo Gomez to the larger island which modern charts call Pulo Bras. So also Beaulieu couples the islands of “Gomispoda and Pulo Way” in front of the roadstead of Achin. De Barros mentions that Gaspar d’Acosta was lost on the Island of Gomispola. Linschoten, describing the course from Cochin to Malacca, says: “You take your course towards the small Isles of Gomespola, which are in 6°, near the corner of Achin in the Island of Sumatra.” And the Turkish author of the Mohit, in speaking of the same navigation, says: “If you wish to reach Malacca, guard against seeing Jámisfulah (جامس فله), because the mountains of Lámri advance into the sea, and the flood is there very strong.” The editor has misunderstood the geography of this passage, which evidently means “Don’t go near enough to Achin Head to see even the islands in front of it.” And here we see again that Lambri is made to extend to Achin Head. The passage is illustrated by the report of the first English Voyage to the Indies. Their course was for the Nicobars, but “by the Master’s fault in not duly observing the South Star, they fell to the southward of them, within sight of the Islands of Gomes Polo.” (Nept. Orient. Charts 38 and 39, and pp. 126–127; Hamilton, II. 66 and Map; Dampier, ed. 1699, II. 122; H. Gén. des Voyages, XII. 310; Linschoten, Routier, p. 30; De Barros, Dec. III. liv. iii. cap. 3; J. A. S. B. VI. 807; Astley, I. 238.)

The two islands (or rather groups of islands) Necuveran and Angamanain are the Nicobar and Andaman groups. A nearer trace of the form Necuveran, or Necouran as it stands in some MSS., is perhaps preserved in Nancouri, the existing name of one of the islands. They are perhaps the Nalo-kilo-chéu (Narikela-dvipa) or Coco-nut Islands of which Hiuen Tsang speaks as existing some thousand li to the south of Ceylon. The men, he had heard, were but 3 feet high, and had the beaks of birds. They had no cultivation and lived on coco-nuts. The islands are also believed to be the Lanja bálús or Lankha bálús of the old Arab navigators: “These Islands support a numerous population. Both men and women go naked, only the women wear a girdle of the leaves of trees. When a ship passes near, the men come out in boats of various sizes and barter ambergris and coco-nuts for iron,” a description which has applied accurately for many centuries. [Ibn Khordâdhbeh says (De Goeje’s transl., p. 45) that the inhabitants of Nicobar (Alankabâlous), an island situated at ten or fifteen days from Serendib, are naked; they live on bananas, fresh fish, and coco-nuts; the precious metal is iron in their country; they frequent foreign merchants.—H. C.] Rashiduddin writes of them nearly in the same terms under the name of Lákváram, but read Nákaváram opposite Lamuri. Odoric also has a chapter on the island of Nicoveran, but it is one full of fable. (H. Tsang, III. 114 and 517; Relations, p. 8; Elliot, I. p. 71; Cathay, p. 97.)

[Mr. G. Phillips writes (J. R. A. S., July 1895, p. 529) that the name Tsui-lan given to the Nicobars by the Chinese is, he has but little doubt, “a corruption of Nocueran, the name given by Marco Polo to the group. The characters Tsui-lan are pronounced Ch’ui-lan in Amoy, out of which it is easy to make Cueran. The Chinese omitted the initial syllable and called them the Cueran Islands, while Marco Polo called them the Nocueran Islands.”—H. C.]

[The Nicobar Islands “are generally known by the Chinese under the name of Râkchas or Demons who devour men, from the belief that their inhabitants were anthropophagi. In A.D. 607, the Emperor of China, Yang-ti, had sent an envoy to Siam, who also reached the country of the Râkchas. According to Tu-yen’s T’ung-tien, the Nicobars lie east [west] of Poli. Its inhabitants are very ugly, having red hair, black bodies, teeth like beasts, and claws like hawks. Sometimes they traded with Lin-yih (Champa), but then at night; in day-time they covered their faces.” (G. Schlegel, Geog. Notes, I. pp. 1–2.)—H. C.]

Mr. Phillips, from his anonymous Chinese author, gives a quaint legend as to the nakedness of these islanders. Sakya Muni, having arrived from Ceylon, stopped at the islands to bathe. Whilst he was in the water the natives stole his clothes, upon which the Buddha cursed them; and they have never since been able to wear any clothing without suffering for it.

[Professor Schlegel gives the same legend (Geog. Notes, I. p. 8) with reference to the Andaman Islands from the Sing-ch’a Shêng-lan, published in 1436 by Fei-sin; Mr. Phillips seems to have made a confusion between the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. (Doolittle’s Vocab. II. p. 556; cf. Schlegel, l.c. p. 11.)—H. C.]

The chief part of the population is believed to be of race akin to the Malay, but they seem to be of more than one race, and there is great variety in dialect. There have long been reports of a black tribe with woolly hair in the unknown interior of the Great Nicobar, and my friend Colonel H. Man, when Superintendent of our Andaman Settlements, received spontaneous corroboration of this from natives of the former island, who were on a visit to Port Blair. Since this has been in type I have seen in the F. of India (28th July, 1874) notice of a valuable work by F. A. de Roepstorff on the dialects and manners of the Nicobarians. This notice speaks of an aboriginal race called Shob’aengs, “purely Mongolian,” but does not mention negritoes. The natives do not now go quite naked; the men wear a narrow cloth; and the women a grass girdle. They are very skilful in management of their canoes. Some years since there were frightful disclosures regarding the massacre of the crews of vessels touching at these islands, and this has led eventually to their occupation by the Indian Government. Trinkat and Nancouri are the islands which were guilty. A woman of Trinkat who could speak Malay was examined by Colonel Man, and she acknowledged having seen nineteen vessels scuttled, after their cargoes had been plundered and their crews massacred. “The natives who were captured at Trinkat,” says Colonel Man in another letter, “were a most savage-looking set, with remarkably long arms, and very projecting eye-teeth.”

The islands have always been famous for the quality and abundance of their “Indian Nuts,” i.e. cocos. The tree of next importance to the natives is a kind of Pandanus, from the cooked fruit of which they express an edible substance called Melori, of which you may read in Dampier; they have the betel and areca; and they grow yams, but only for barter. As regards the other vegetation, mentioned by Polo, I will quote, what Colonel Man writes to me from the Andamans, which probably is in great measure applicable to the Nicobars also! “Our woods are very fine, and doubtless resemble those of the Nicobars. Sapan wood (i.e. Polo’s Brazil) is in abundance; coco-nuts, so numerous in the Nicobars, and to the north in the Cocos, are not found naturally with us, though they grow admirably when cultivated. There is said to be sandal-wood in our forests, and camphor, but I have not yet come across them. I do not believe in cloves, but we have lots of the wild nutmeg.”[2] The last, and cardamoms, are mentioned in the Voyage of the Novara, vol. ii., in which will be found a detail of the various European attempts to colonise the Nicobar Islands with other particulars. (See also J. A. S. B. XV. 344 seqq.) [See Schlegel’s Geog. Notes, XVI., The Old States in the Island of Sumatra.—H. C.]

Note 1.—Here Marco speaks of the remarkable population of the Andaman Islands—Oriental negroes in the lowest state of barbarism—who have remained in their isolated and degraded condition, so near the shores of great civilised countries, for so many ages. “Rice and milk” they have not, and their fruits are only wild ones.

[From the Sing-ch’a Shêng-lan quoted by Professor Schlegel (Geog. Notes, I. p. 8) we learn that these islanders have neither “rice or corn, but only descend into the sea and catch fish and shrimps in their nets; they also plant Banians and Cocoa-trees for their food.”—H. C.]

I imagine our traveller’s form Angamanain to be an Arabic (oblique) dual—“The two Andamans,” viz. The Great and The Little, the former being in truth a chain of three islands, but so close and nearly continuous as to form apparently one, and to be named as such.

A. Housselin d.

Michelet sc.

The Borús. (From a Manuscript.)

[Professor Schlegel writes (Geog. Notes. I. p. 12): “This etymology is to be rejected because the old Chinese transcription gives So—(or Sun) damân.... The Pien-i-tien (ch. 107, I. fol. 30) gives a description of Andaman, here called An-to-man kwoh, quoted from the San-tsai Tu-hwui.”—H. C.]

The origin of the name seems to be unknown. The only person to my knowledge who has given a meaning to it is Nicolo Conti, who says it means “Island of Gold”; probably a mere sailor’s yarn. The name, however, is very old, and may perhaps be traced in Ptolemy; for he names an island of cannibals called that of Good Fortune, Ἀγαθοῦ δαίμονος. It seems probable enough that this was Ἀγδαιμόνος Νῆσος, or the like, “The Angdaman Island,” misunderstood. His next group of Islands is the Barussae, which seems again to be the Lankha Bálús of the oldest Arab navigators, since these are certainly the Nicobars. [The name first appears distinctly in the Arab narratives of the 9th century. (Yule, Hobson-Jobson.)]

The description of the natives of the Andaman Islands in the early Arab Relations has been often quoted, but it is too like our traveller’s account to be omitted: “The inhabitants of these islands eat men alive. They are black with woolly hair, and in their eyes and countenance there is something quite frightful.... They go naked, and have no boats. If they had they would devour all who passed near them. Sometimes ships that are wind-bound, and have exhausted their provision of water, touch here and apply to the natives for it; in such cases the crew sometimes fall into the hands of the latter, and most of them are massacred” (p. 9).

The traditional charge of cannibalism against these people used to be very persistent, though it is generally rejected since our settlement upon the group in 1858. Mr. Logan supposes the report was cherished by those who frequented the islands for edible birds’ nests, in order to keep the monopoly. Of their murdering the crews of wrecked vessels, like their Nicobar neighbours, I believe there is no doubt; and it has happened in our own day. Cesare Federici, in Ramusio, speaks of the terrible fate of crews wrecked on the Andamans; all such were killed and eaten by the natives, who refused all intercourse with strangers. A. Hamilton mentions a friend of his who was wrecked on the islands; nothing more was ever heard of the ship’s company, “which gave ground to conjecture that they were all devoured by those savage cannibals.”

The Cynocephali. (From the Livre des Merveilles.)

They do not, in modern times, I believe, in their canoes, quit their own immediate coast, but Hamilton says they used, in his time, to come on forays to the Nicobar Islands; and a paper in the Asiatic Researches mentions a tradition to the same effect as existing on the Car Nicobar. They have retained all the aversion to intercourse anciently ascribed to them, and they still go naked as of old, the utmost exception being a leaf-apron worn by the women near the British Settlement.

The Dog-head feature is at least as old as Ctesias. The story originated, I imagine, in the disgust with which “allophylian” types of countenance are regarded, kindred to the feeling which makes the Hindus and other eastern nations represent the aborigines whom they superseded as demons. The Cubans described the Caribs to Columbus as man-eaters with dogs’ muzzles; and the old Danes had tales of Cynocephali in Finland. A curious passage from the Arab geographer Ibn Said pays an ambiguous compliment to the forefathers of Moltke and Von Roon: “The Borús (Prussians) are a miserable people, and still more savage than the Russians.... One reads in some books that the Borús have dogs’ faces; it is a way of saying that they are very brave.” Ibn Batuta describes an Indo-Chinese tribe on the coast of Arakan or Pegu as having dogs’ mouths, but says the women were beautiful. Friar Jordanus had heard the same of the dog-headed islanders. And one odd form of the story, found, strange to say, both in China and diffused over Ethiopia, represents the males as actual dogs whilst the females are women. Oddly, too, Père Barbe tells us that a tradition of the Nicobar people themselves represent them as of canine descent, but on the female side! The like tale in early Portuguese days was told of the Peguans, viz. that they sprang from a dog and a Chinese woman. It is mentioned by Camoens (X. 122). Note, however, that in Colonel Man’s notice of the wilder part of the Nicobar people the projecting canine teeth are spoken of.

Abraham Roger tells us that the Coromandel Brahmans used to say that the Rákshasas or Demons had their abode “on the Island of Andaman lying on the route from Pulicat to Pegu,” and also that they were man-eaters. This would be very curious if it were a genuine old Brahmanical Saga; but I fear it may have been gathered from the Arab seamen. Still it is remarkable that a strange weird-looking island, a steep and regular volcanic cone, which rises covered with forest to a height of 2150 feet, straight out of the deep sea to the eastward of the Andaman group, bears the name Narkandam, in which one cannot but recognise नरक, Narak, “Hell”; perhaps Naraka-kuṇḍam, “a pit of hell.” Can it be that in old times, but still contemporary with Hindu navigation, this volcano was active, and that some Brahman St. Brandon recognised in it the mouth of Hell, congenial to the Rakshasas of the adjacent group?

“Si est de saint Brandon le matère furnie;

Qui fu si près d’enfer, à nef et à galie,

Que déable d’enfer issirent, par maistrie,

Getans brandons de feu, pour lui faire hasquie.”

—Bauduin de Sebourc, I. 123.

(Ramusio, III. 391; Ham. II. 65; Navarrete (Fr. Ed.), II. 101; Cathay, 467; Bullet. de la Soc. de Géog. sér. IV. tom iii. 36–37; J. A. S. B. u.s.; Reinaud’s Abulfeda, I. 315; J. Ind. Arch., N.S., III. I. 105; La Porte Ouverte, p. 188.) [I shall refer to my edition of Odoric, 206–217, for a long notice on dog-headed barbarians; I reproduce here two of the cuts.—H. C.]

MAP to Illustrate POLO’S Chapters on India.
MAP to Illustrate POLO’S Chapters on the Malay Countries.

[Note 1.—Mr. Geo. Phillips gives (Seaports of India, p. 216 et seqq.) the Star Chart used by Chinese Navigators on their return voyage from Ceylon to Su-men-tâ-la.—H. C.]

Note 2.—Valentyn appears to be repeating a native tradition when he says: “In old times the island had, as they loosely say, a good 400 miles (i.e. Dutch, say 1600 miles) of compass, but at the north end the sea has from time to time carried away a large part of it.” (Ceylon, in vol. v., p. 18.) Curious particulars touching the exaggerated ideas of the ancients, inherited by the Arabs, as to the dimensions of Ceylon, will be found in Tennent’s Ceylon, ch. i. The Chinese pilgrim Hiuen Tsang has the same tale. According to him, the circuit was 7000 li, or 1400 miles. We see from Marco’s curious notice of the old charts (G. T. “selonc qe se treuve en la mapemondi des mariner de cel mer”) that travellers had begun to find that the dimensions were exaggerated. The real circuit is under 700 miles!

On the ground that all the derivations of the name Sailan or Ceylon from the old Sinhala, Serendib, and what not, seem forced, Van der Tuuk has suggested that the name may have been originally Javanese, being formed (he says) according to the rules of that language from Sela, “a precious stone,” so that Pulo Selan would be the “Island of Gems.” [Professor Schlegel says (Geog. Notes, I. p. 19, note) that “it seems better to think of the Sanskrit šila, ‘a stone or rock,’ or šaila, ‘a mountain,’ which agree with the Chinese interpretation.”—H. C.] The Island was really called anciently Ratnadvīpa, “the Island of Gems” (Mém. de H. T., II. 125, and Harivansa, I. 403); and it is termed by an Arab Historian of the 9th century Jazírat al Yáḳút, “The Isle of Rubies.” [The (Chinese) characters ya-ku-pao-shih are in some accounts of Ceylon used to express Yáḳút. (Ma-Huan, transl. by Phillips, p. 213.)—H. C.] As a matter of fact, we derive originally from the Malays nearly all the forms we have adopted for names of countries reached by sea to the east of the Bay of Bengal, e.g. Awa, Barma, Paigu, Siyam, China, Japún, Kochi (Cochin China), Champa, Kamboja, Malúka (properly a place in the Island of Ceram), Súlúk, Burnei, Tanasari, Martavan, etc. That accidents in the history of marine affairs in those seas should have led to the adoption of the Malay and Javanese names in the case of Ceylon also is at least conceivable. But Dr. Caldwell has pointed out to me that the Páli form of Sinhala was Sihalan, and that this must have been colloquially shortened to Sîlan, for it appears in old Tamul inscriptions as Ilam.[1] Hence there is nothing really strained in the derivation of Sailán from Sinhala. Tennent (Ceylon, I. 549) and Crawford (Malay Dict. p. 171) ascribe the name Selan, Zeilan, to the Portuguese, but this is quite unfounded, as our author sufficiently testifies. The name Sailán also occurs in Rashiduddin, in Hayton, and in Jordanus (see next note). (See Van der Tuuk, work quoted above (p. 287), p. 118; J. As. sér. IV., tom. viii. 145; J. Ind. Arch. IV. 187; Elliot, I. 70.) [Sinhala or Sihala, “lions’ abode,” with the addition of “Island,” Sihala-dvīpa, comes down to us in Cosmas Σιελεδίβα (Hobson-Jobson).]

Note 3.—The native king at this time was Pandita Prakrama Bahu III., who reigned from 1267 to 1301 at Dambadenia, about 40 miles north-north-east of Columbo. But the Tamuls of the continent had recently been in possession of the whole northern half of the island. The Singhalese Chronicle represents Prakrama to have recovered it from them, but they are so soon again found in full force that the completeness of this recovery may be doubted. There were also two invasions of Malays (Javaku) during this reign, under the lead of a chief called Chandra Banu. On the second occasion this invader was joined by a large Tamul reinforcement. Sir E. Tennent suggests that this Chandra Banu may be Polo’s Sende-main or Sendernaz, as Ramusio has it. Or he may have been the Tamul chief in the north; the first part of the name may have been either Chandra or Sundara.

Note 4.—Kazwini names the brazil, or sapan-wood of Ceylon. Ibn Batuta speaks of its abundance (IV. 166); and Ribeyro does the like (ed. of Columbo, 1847, p. 16); see also Ritter, VI. 39, 122; and Trans. R. A. S. I. 539.

Sir E. Tennent has observed that Ibn Batuta is the first to speak of the Ceylon cinnamon. It is, however, mentioned by Kazwini (circa A.D. 1275), and in a letter written from Mabar by John of Montecorvino about the very time that Marco was in these seas. (See Ethé’s Kazwini, 229, and Cathay, 213.)

[Mr. G. Phillips, in the Jour. China B. R. A. Soc., XX. 1885, pp. 209–226; XXI. 1886, pp. 30–42, has given, under the title of The Seaports of India and Ceylon, a translation of some parts of the Ying-yai-shĕng-lan, a work of a Chinese Mahomedan, Ma-Huan, who was attached to the suite of Chêng-Ho, an envoy of the Emperor Yong-Lo (A.D. 1403–1425) to foreign countries. Mr. Phillips’s translation is a continuation of the Notes of Mr. W. P. Groeneveldt, who leaves us at Lambri, on the coast of Sumatra. Ma-Huan takes us to the Ts’ui-lan Islands (Nicobars) and to Hsi-lan-kuo (Ceylon), whose “people,” he says (p. 214), “are abundantly supplied with all the necessaries of life. They go about naked, except that they wear a green handkerchief round their loins, fastened with a waist-band. Their bodies are clean-shaven, and only the hair of their heads is left.... They take no meal without butter and milk, if they have none and wish to eat, they do so unobserved and in private. The betel-nut is never out of their mouths. They have no wheat, but have rice, sesamum, and peas. The cocoa-nut, which they have in abundance, supplies them with oil, wine, sugar, and food.” Ma-Huan arrived at Ceylon at Pieh-lo-li, on the 6th of the 11th moon (seventh year, Süan Têh, end of 1432). Cf. Sylvain Lévi, Ceylan et la Chine, J. As., Mai-juin, 1900, p. 411 seqq.

Odoric and the Adjaîb do not mention cinnamon among the products of Ceylon; this omission was one of the arguments of Dr. Schumann (Ergänz. No. 73 zu Petermann’s Mitt., 1883, p. 46) against the authenticity of the Adjaîb. These arguments have been refuted in the Livre des Merveilles de l’Inde, p. 265 seqq.

Nicolo Conti, speaking of the “very noble island called Zeilan,” says (p. 7): “Here also cinnamon grows in great abundance. It is a tree which very much resembles our thick willows, excepting that the branches do not grow upwards, but are spread out horizontally: the leaves are very like those of the laurel, but are somewhat larger. The bark of the branches is the thinnest and best, that of the trunk of the tree is thicker and inferior in flavour. The fruit resembles the berries of the laurel; an odoriferous oil is extracted from it adapted for ointments, which are much used by the Indians. When the bark is stripped off, the wood is used for fuel.”—H. C.]

Note 5.—There seems to have been always afloat among Indian travellers, at least from the time of Cosmas (6th century), some wonderful story about the ruby or rubies of the king of Ceylon. With Cosmas, and with the Chinese Hiuen Tsang, in the following century, this precious object is fixed on the top of a pagoda, “a hyacinth, they say, of great size and brilliant ruddy colour, as big as a great pine-cone; and when ’tis seen from a distance flashing, especially if the sun’s rays strike upon it, ’tis a glorious and incomparable spectacle.” Our author’s contemporary, Hayton, had heard of the great ruby: “The king of that Island of Celan hath the largest and finest ruby in existence. When his coronation takes place this ruby is placed in his hand, and he goes round the city on horseback holding it in his hand, and thenceforth all recognise and obey him as their king.” Odoric too speaks of the great ruby and the Kaan’s endeavours to get it, though by some error the circumstance is referred to Nicoveran instead of Ceylon. Ibn Batuta saw in the possession of Arya Chakravarti, a Tamul chief ruling at Patlam, a ruby bowl as big as the palm of one’s hand. Friar Jordanus speaks of two great rubies belonging to the king of Sylen, each so large that when grasped in the hand it projected a finger’s breadth at either side. The fame, at least, of these survived to the 16th century, for Andrea Corsali (1515) says: “They tell that the king of this island possesses two rubies of colour so brilliant and vivid that they look like a flame of fire.”

Sir E. Tennent, on this subject, quotes from a Chinese work a statement that early in the 14th century the Emperor sent an officer to Ceylon to purchase a carbuncle of unusual lustre. This was fitted as a ball to the Emperor’s cap; it was upwards of an ounce in weight and cost 100,000 strings of cash. Every time a grand levee was held at night the red lustre filled the palace, and hence it was designated “The Red Palace-Illuminator.” (I. B. IV. 174–175; Cathay, p. clxxvii.; Hayton, ch. vi.; Jord. p. 30; Ramus. I. 180; Ceylon, I. 568).

[“This mountain [Adam’s Peak] abounds with rubies of all kinds and other precious stones. These gems are being continually washed out of the ground by heavy rains, and are sought for and found in the sand carried down the hill by the torrents. It is currently reported among the people, that these precious stones are the congealed tears of Buddha.” (Ma-Huan, transl. by Phillips, p. 213.)

In the Chinese work Cho keng lu, containing notes on different matters referring to the time of the Mongol Dynasty, in ch. vii. entitled Hwui hwui shi t’ou (“Precious Stones of the Mohammedans”) among the four kinds of red stones is mentioned the si-la-ni of a dark red colour; si-la-ni, as Dr. Bretschneider observes (Med. Res. I. p. 174), means probably “from Ceylon.” The name for ruby in China is now-a-days hung pao shi, “red precious stone.” (Ibid. p. 173.)—H. C.]

Note 1.—Sagamoni Borcan is, as Marsden points out, Sakya-Muni, or Gautama-Buddha, with the affix Burkhan, or “Divinity,” which is used by the Mongols as the synonym of Buddha.

“The Dewa of Samantakúta (Adam’s Peak), Samana, having heard of the arrival of Budha (in Lanka or Ceylon) ... presented a request that he would leave an impression of his foot upon the mountain of which he was guardian.... In the midst of the assembled Dewas, Budha, looking towards the East, made the impression of his foot, in length three inches less than the cubit of the carpenter; and the impression remained as a seal to show that Lanka is the inheritance of Budha, and that his religion will here flourish.” (Hardy’s Manual, p. 212.)

[Ma-Huan says (p. 212): “On landing (at Ceylon), there is to be seen on the shining rock at the base of the cliff, an impress of a foot two or more feet in length. The legend attached to it is, that it is the imprint of Shâkyamuni’s foot, made when he landed at this place, coming from the Ts’ui-lan (Nicobar) Islands. There is a little water in the hollow of the imprint of this foot, which never evaporates. People dip their hands in it and wash their faces, and rub their eyes with it, saying: ‘This is Buddha’s water, which will make us pure and clean.’”—H. C.]

Adam’s Peak.

“Or est voir qe en ceste ysle a une montagne mout haut et si degrot de les rocches qe nul hi puent monter sus se ne en ceste mainere qe je voz dirai” ...

“The veneration with which this majestic mountain has been regarded for ages, took its rise in all probability amongst the aborigines of Ceylon.... In a later age, ... the hollow in the lofty rock that crowns the summit was said by the Brahmans to be the footstep of Siva, by the Buddhists of Buddha, ... by the Gnostics of Ieu, by the Mahometans of Adam, whilst the Portuguese authorities were divided between the conflicting claims of St. Thomas and the eunuch of Candace, Queen of Ethiopia.” (Tennent, II. 133.)

[“Near to the King’s residence there is a lofty mountain reaching to the skies. On the top of this mountain there is the impress of a man’s foot, which is sunk two feet deep in the rock, and is some eight or more feet long. This is said to be the impress of the foot of the ancestor of mankind, a Holy man called A-tan, otherwise P’an-Ku.” (Ma-Huan, p. 213.)—H. C.]

Polo, however, says nothing of the foot; he speaks only of the sepulchre of Adam, or of Sakya-muni. I have been unable to find any modern indication of the monument that was shown by the Mahomedans as the tomb, and sometimes as the house, of Adam; but such a structure there certainly was, perhaps an ancient Kist-vaen, or the like. John Marignolli, who was there about 1349, has an interesting passage on the subject: “That exceeding high mountain hath a pinnacle of surpassing height, which on account of the clouds can rarely be seen. [The summit is lost in the clouds. (Ibn Khordâdhbeh, p. 43.)—H. C.] But God, pitying our tears, lighted it up one morning just before the sun rose, so that we beheld it glowing with the brightest flame. [They say that a flame bursts constantly, like a lightning, from the Summit of the mountain.—(Ibn Khordâdhbeh, p. 44.)—H. C.] In the way down from this mountain there is a fine level spot, still at a great height, and there you find in order: first, the mark of Adam’s foot; secondly, a certain statue of a sitting figure, with the left hand resting on the knee, and the right hand raised and extended towards the west; lastly, there is the house (of Adam), which he made with his own hands. It is of an oblong quadrangular shape like a sepulchre, with a door in the middle, and is formed of great tabular slabs of marble, not cemented, but merely laid one upon another. (Cathay, 358.) A Chinese account, translated in Amyot’s Mémoires, says that at the foot of the mountain is a Monastery of Bonzes, in which is seen the veritable body of Fo, in the attitude of a man lying on his side” (XIV. 25). [Ma-Huan says (p. 212): “Buddhist temples abound there. In one of them there is to be seen a full length recumbent figure of Shâkyamuni, still in a very good state of preservation. The dais on which the figure reposes is inlaid with all kinds of precious stones. It is made of sandalwood and is very handsome. The temple contains a Buddha’s tooth and other relics. This must certainly be the place where Shâkyamuni entered Nirvâna.”—H. C.] Osorio, also, in his history of Emanuel of Portugal, says: “Not far from it (the Peak) people go to see a small temple in which are two sepulchres, which are the objects of an extraordinary degree of superstitious devotion. For they believe that in these were buried the bodies of the first man and his wife” (f. 120 v.). A German traveller (Daniel Parthey, Nürnberg, 1698) also speaks of the tomb of Adam and his sons on the mountain. (See Fabricius, Cod. Pseudep. Vet. Test. II. 31; also Ouseley’s Travels, I. 59.)

It is a perplexing circumstance that there is a double set of indications about the footmark. The Ceylon traditions, quoted above from Hardy, call its length 3 inches less than a carpenter’s cubit. Modern observers estimate it at 5 feet or 5½ feet. Hardy accounts for this by supposing that the original footmark was destroyed in the end of the sixteenth century. But Ibn Batuta, in the 14th, states it at 11 spans, or more than the modern report. [Ibn Khordâdhbeh at 70 cubits.—H. C.] Marignolli, on the other hand, says that he measured it and found it to be 2½ palms, or about half a Prague ell, which corresponds in a general way with Hardy’s tradition. Valentyn calls it 1½ ell in length; Knox says 2 feet; Herman Bree (De Bry?), quoted by Fabricius, 8½ spans; a Chinese account, quoted below, 8 feet. These discrepancies remind one of the ancient Buddhist belief regarding such footmarks, that they seemed greater or smaller in proportion to the faith of the visitor! (See Koeppen, I. 529, and Beal’s Fah-hian, p. 27.)

The chains, of which Ibn Batuta gives a particular account, exist still. The highest was called (he says) the chain of the Shahádat, or Credo, because the fearful abyss below made pilgrims recite the profession of belief. Ashraf, a Persian poet of the 15th century, author of an Alexandriad, ascribes these chains to the great conqueror, who devised them, with the assistance of the philosopher Bolinas,[1] in order to scale the mountain, and reach the sepulchre of Adam. (See Ouseley, I. 54 seqq.) There are inscriptions on some of the chains, but I find no account of them. (Skeen’s Adam’s Peak, Ceylon, 1870, p. 226.)

Note 2.—The general correctness with which Marco has here related the legendary history of Sakya’s devotion to an ascetic life, as the preliminary to his becoming the Buddha or Divinely Perfect Being, shows what a strong impression the tale had made upon him. He is, of course, wrong in placing the scene of the history in Ceylon, though probably it was so told him, as the vulgar in all Buddhist countries do seem to localise the legends in regions known to them.

Sakya Sinha, Sakya Muni, or Gautama, originally called Siddhárta, was the son of Súddhodhana, the Kshatriya prince of Kapilavastu, a small state north of the Ganges, near the borders of Oudh. His high destiny had been foretold, as well as the objects that would move him to adopt the ascetic life. To keep these from his knowledge, his father caused three palaces to be built, within the limits of which the prince should pass the three seasons of the year, whilst guards were posted to bar the approach of the dreaded objects. But these precautions were defeated by inevitable destiny and the power of the Devas.

When the prince was sixteen he was married to the beautiful Yasodhara, daughter of the King of Koli, and 40,000 other princesses also became the inmates of his harem.

“Whilst living in the midst of the full enjoyment of every kind of pleasure, Siddhárta one day commanded his principal charioteer to prepare his festive chariot; and in obedience to his commands four lily-white horses were yoked. The prince leaped into the chariot, and proceeded towards a garden at a little distance from the palace, attended by a great retinue. On his way he saw a decrepit old man, with broken teeth, grey locks, and a form bending towards the ground, his trembling steps supported by a staff (a Deva had taken this form).... The prince enquired what strange figure it was that he saw; and he was informed that it was an old man. He then asked if the man was born so, and the charioteer answered that he was not, as he was once young like themselves. ‘Are there,’ said the prince, ‘many such beings in the world?’ ‘Your highness,’ said the charioteer, ‘there are many.’ The prince again enquired, ‘Shall I become thus old and decrepit?’ and he was told that it was a state at which all beings must arrive.”

The prince returns home and informs his father of his intention to become an ascetic, seeing how undesirable is life tending to such decay. His father conjures him to put away such thoughts, and to enjoy himself with his princesses, and he strengthens the guards about the palaces. Four months later like circumstances recur, and the prince sees a leper, and after the same interval a dead body in corruption. Lastly, he sees a religious recluse, radiant with peace and tranquillity, and resolves to delay no longer. He leaves his palace at night, after a look at his wife Yasodhara and the boy just born to him, and betakes himself to the forests of Magadha, where he passes seven years in extreme asceticism. At the end of that time he attains the Buddhahood. (See Hardy’s Manual, p. 151 seqq.) The latter part of the story told by Marco, about the body of the prince being brought to his father, etc., is erroneous. Sakya was 80 years of age when he died under the sál trees in Kusinára.

The strange parallel between Buddhistic ritual, discipline, and costume, and those which especially claim the name of Catholic in the Christian Church, has been often noticed; and though the parallel has never been elaborated as it might be, some of the more salient facts are familiar to most readers. Still many may be unaware that Buddha himself, Siddhárta the son of Súddhodhana, has found his way into the Roman martyrology as a Saint of the Church.

In the first edition a mere allusion was made to this singular story, for it had recently been treated by Professor Max Müller, with characteristic learning and grace. (See Contemporary Review for July, 1870, p. 588.) But the matter is so curious and still so little familiar that I now venture to give it at some length.

The religious romance called the History of Barlaam and Josaphat was for several centuries one of the most popular works in Christendom. It was translated into all the chief European languages, including Scandinavian and Sclavonic tongues. An Icelandic version dates from the year 1204; one in the Tagal language of the Philippines was printed at Manilla in 1712.[2] The episodes and apologues with which the story abounds have furnished materials to poets and story-tellers in various ages and of very diverse characters; e.g. to Giovanni Boccaccio, John Gower, and to the compiler of the Gesta Romanorum, to Shakspere, and to the late W. Adams, author of the King’s Messengers. The basis of this romance is the story of Siddhárta.

The story of Barlaam and Josaphat first appears among the works (in Greek) of St. John of Damascus, a theologian of the early part of the 8th century, who, before he devoted himself to divinity had held high office at the Court of the Khalif Abu Jáfar Almansúr. The outline of the story is as follows:—

St. Thomas had converted the people of India to the truth; and after the eremitic life originated in Egypt many in India adopted it. But a potent pagan King arose, by name Abenner, who persecuted the Christians and especially the ascetics. After this King had long been childless, a son, greatly desired, is born to him, a boy of matchless beauty. The King greatly rejoices, gives the child the name of Josaphat, and summons the astrologers to predict his destiny. They foretell for the prince glory and prosperity beyond all his predecessors in the kingdom. One sage, most learned of all, assents to this, but declares that the scene of these glories will not be the paternal realm, and that the child will adopt the faith that his father persecutes.

This prediction greatly troubled King Abenner. In a secluded city he caused a splendid palace to be erected, within which his son was to abide, attended only by tutors and servants in the flower of youth and health. No one from without was to have access to the prince; and he was to witness none of the afflictions of humanity, poverty, disease, old age, or death, but only what was pleasant, so that he should have no inducement to think of the future life; nor was he ever to hear a word of Christ or His religion. And, hearing that some monks still survived in India, the King in his wrath ordered that any such, who should be found after three days, should be burnt alive.

The Prince grows up in seclusion, acquires all manner of learning, and exhibits singular endowments of wisdom and acuteness. At last he urges his father to allow him to pass the limits of the palace, and this the King reluctantly permits, after taking all precautions to arrange diverting spectacles, and to keep all painful objects at a distance. Or let us proceed in the Old English of the Golden Legend.[3] “Whan his fader herde this he was full of sorowe, and anone he let do make redy horses and ioyfull felawshyp to accompany him, in suche wyse that nothynge dyshonest sholde happen to hym. And on a tyme thus as the Kynges sone wente he mette a mesell and a blynde man, and whã he sawe them he was abasshed and enquyred what them eyled. And his seruaũtes sayd: These ben passions that comen to men. And he demaunded yf the passyons came to all men. And they sayd nay. Thã sayd he, ben they knowen whiche men shall suffre.... And they answered, Who is he that may knowe ye aduentures of men. And he began to be moche anguysshous for ye incustomable thynge hereof. And another tyme he found a man moche aged, whiche had his chere froũced, his tethe fallen, and he was all croked for age.... And thã he demaũnded what sholde be ye ende. And they sayd deth.... And this yonge man remembered ofte in his herte these thynges, and was in grete dyscõforte, but he shewed hỹ moche glad tofore his fader, and he desyred moche to be enformed and taught in these thỹges.” [Fol. ccc. lii.]

At this time Barlaam, a monk of great sanctity and knowledge in divine things, who dwelt in the wilderness of Sennaritis, having received a divine warning, travels to India in the disguise of a merchant, and gains access to Prince Josaphat, to whom he unfolds the Christian doctrine and the blessedness of the monastic life. Suspicion is raised against Barlaam, and he departs. But all efforts to shake the Prince’s convictions are vain. As a last resource the King sends for a magician called Theudas, who removes the Prince’s attendants and substitutes seductive girls, but all their blandishments are resisted through prayer. The King abandons these attempts and associates his son with himself in the government. The Prince uses his power to promote religion, and everything prospers in his hand. Finally King Abenner is drawn to the truth, and after some years of penitence dies. Josaphat then surrenders the kingdom to a friend called Barachias, and proceeds into the wilderness, where he wanders for two years seeking Barlaam, and much buffeted by the demons. “And whan Balaam had accõplysshed his dayes, he rested in peas about ye yere of Our Lorde .cccc. & .lxxx. Josaphat lefte his realme the .xxv. yere of his age, and ledde the lyfe of an heremyte .xxxv. yere, and than rested in peas full of vertues, and was buryed by the body of Balaam.” [Fol. ccc. lvi.] The King Barachias afterwards arrives and transfers the bodies solemnly to India.

This is but the skeleton of the story, but the episodes and apologues which round its dimensions, and give it its mediæval popularity, do not concern our subject. In this skeleton the story of Siddhárta, mutatis mutandis, is obvious.

The story was first popular in the Greek Church, and was embodied in the lives of the saints, as recooked by Simeon the Metaphrast, an author whose period is disputed, but was in any case not later than 1150. A Cretan monk called Agapios made selections from the work of Simeon which were published in Romaic at Venice in 1541 under the name of the Paradise, and in which the first section consists of the story of Barlaam and Josaphat. This has been frequently reprinted as a popular book of devotion. A copy before me is printed at Venice in 1865.[4]

From the Greek Church the history of the two saints passed to the Latin, and they found a place in the Roman martyrology under the 27th November. When this first happened I have not been able to ascertain. Their history occupies a large space in the Speculum Historiale of Vincent of Beauvais, written in the 13th century, and is set forth, as we have seen, in the Golden Legend of nearly the same age. They are recognised by Baronius, and are to be found at p. 348 of “The Roman Martyrology set forth by command of Pope Gregory XIII., and revised by the authority of Pope Urban VIII., translated out of Latin into English by G. K. of the Society of Jesus ... and now re-edited ... by W. N. Skelly, Esq. London, T. Richardson & Son.” (Printed at Derby, 1847.) Here in Palermo is a church bearing the dedication Divo Iosaphat.

Professor Müller attributes the first recognition of the identity of the two stories to M. Laboulaye in 1859. But in fact I find that the historian de Couto had made the discovery long before.[5] He says, speaking of Budão (Buddha), and after relating his history:

“To this name the Gentiles throughout all India have dedicated great and superb pagodas. With reference to this story we have been diligent in enquiring if the ancient Gentiles of those parts had in their writings any knowledge of St. Josaphat who was converted by Barlam, who in his Legend is represented as the son of a great King of India, and who had just the same up-bringing, with all the same particulars, that we have recounted of the life of the Budão.... And as a thing seems much to the purpose, which was told us by a very old man of the Salsette territory in Baçaim, about Josaphat, I think it well to cite it: As I was travelling in the Isle of Salsette, and went to see that rare and admirable Pagoda (which we call the Canará Pagoda[6]) made in a mountain, with many halls cut out of one solid rock ... and enquiring from this old man about the work, and what he thought as to who had made it, he told us that without doubt the work was made by order of the father of St. Josaphat to bring him up therein in seclusion, as the story tells. And as it informs us that he was the son of a great King in India, it may well be, as we have just said, that he was the Budão, of whom they relate such marvels.” (Dec. V. liv. vi. cap. 2.)

Dominie Valentyn, not being well read in the Golden Legend, remarks on the subject of Buddha: “There be some who hold this Budhum for a fugitive Syrian Jew, or for an Israelite, others who hold him for a Disciple of the Apostle Thomas; but how in that case he could have been born 622 years before Christ I leave them to explain. Diego de Couto stands by the belief that he was certainly Joshua, which is still more absurd!” (V. deel, p. 374.)

[Since the days of Couto, who considered the Buddhist legend but an imitation of the Christian legend, the identity of the stories was recognised (as mentioned supra) by M. Edouard Laboulaye, in the Journal des Débats of the 26th of July, 1859. About the same time, Professor F. Liebrecht of Liège, in Ebert’s Jahrbuch für Romanische und Englische Literatur, II. p. 314 seqq., comparing the Book of Barlaam and Joasaph with the work of Barthélemy St. Hilaire on Buddha, arrived at the same conclusion.

In 1880, Professor T. W. Rhys Davids has devoted some pages (xxxvi.–xli.) in his Buddhist Birth Stories; or, Jataka Tales, to The Barlaam and Josaphat Literature, and we note from them that: “Pope Sixtus the Fifth (1585–1590) authorised a particular Martyrologium, drawn up by Cardinal Baronius, to be used throughout the Western Church.”. In that work are included not only the saints first canonised at Rome, but all those who, having been already canonised elsewhere, were then acknowledged by the Pope and the College of Rites to be saints of the Catholic Church of Christ. Among such, under the date of the 27th of November, are included “The holy Saints Barlaam and Josaphat, of India, on the borders of Persia, whose wonderful acts Saint John of Damascus has described. Where and when they were first canonised, I have been unable, in spite of much investigation, to ascertain. Petrus de Natalibus, who was Bishop of Equilium, the modern Jesolo, near Venice, from 1370 to 1400, wrote a Martyrology called Catalogus Sanctorum; and in it, among the ‘Saints,’ he inserts both Barlaam and Josaphat, giving also a short account of them derived from the old Latin translation of St. John of Damascus. It is from this work that Baronius, the compiler of the authorised Martyrology now in use, took over the names of these two saints, Barlaam and Josaphat. But, so far as I have been able to ascertain, they do not occur in any martyrologies or lists of saints of the Western Church older than that of Petrus de Natalibus. In the corresponding manual of worship still used in the Greek Church, however, we find, under 26th August, the name ‘of the holy Iosaph, son of Abenēr, King of India.’ Barlaam is not mentioned, and is not therefore recognised as a saint in the Greek Church. No history is added to the simple statement I have quoted; and I do not know on what authority it rests. But there is no doubt that it is in the East, and probably among the records of the ancient church of Syria, that a final solution of this question should be sought. Some of the more learned of the numerous writers who translated or composed new works on the basis of the story of Josaphat, have pointed out in their notes that he had been canonised; and the hero of the romance is usually called St. Josaphat in the titles of these works, as will be seen from the Table of the Josaphat literature below. But Professor Liebrecht, when identifying Josaphat with the Buddha, took no notice of this; and it was Professor Max Müller, who has done so much to infuse the glow of life into the dry bones of Oriental scholarship, who first pointed out the strange fact—almost incredible, were it not for the completeness of the proof—that Gotama the Buddha, under the name of St. Josaphat, is now officially recognised and honoured and worshipped throughout the whole of Catholic Christendom as a Christian saint!” Professor T. W. Rhys Davids gives further a Bibliography, pp. xcv.–xcvii.

M. H. Zotenberg wrote a learned memoir (N. et Ext. XXVIII. Pt. I.) in 1886 to prove that the Greek Text is not a translation but the original of the Legend. There are many MSS. of the Greek Text of the Book of Barlaam and Joasaph in Paris, Vienna, Munich, etc., including ten MSS. kept in various libraries at Oxford. New researches made by Professor E. Kuhn, of Munich (Barlaam und Joasaph. Eine Bibliographisch-literargeschichtliche Studie, 1893), seem to prove that during the 6th century, in that part of the Sassanian Empire bordering on India, in fact Afghanistan, Buddhism and Christianity were gaining ground at the expense of the Zoroastrian faith, and that some Buddhist wrote in Pehlevi a Book of Yûdâsaf (Bodhisatva); a Christian, finding pleasant the legend, made an adaptation of it from his own point of view, introducing the character of the monk Balauhar (Barlaam) to teach his religion to Yûdâsaf, who could not, in his Christian disguise, arrive at the truth by himself like a Bodhisatva. This Pehlevi version of the newly-formed Christian legend was translated into Syriac, and from Syriac was drawn a Georgian version, and, in the first half of the 7th century, the Greek Text of John, a monk of the convent of St. Saba, near Jerusalem, by some turned into St. John of Damascus, who added to the story some long theological discussions. From this Greek, it was translated into all the known languages of Europe, while the Pehlevi version being rendered into Arabic, was adapted by the Mussulmans and the Jews to their own creeds. (H. Zotenberg, Mém. sur le texte et les versions orientales du Livre de Barlaam et Joasaph, Not. et Ext. XXVIII. Pt. I. pp. 1–166; G. Paris, Saint Josaphat in Rev. de Paris, 1^er Juin, 1895, and Poèmes et Légendes du Moyen Age, pp. 181–214.)

Mr. Joseph Jacobs published in London, 1896, a valuable little book, Barlaam and Josaphat, English Lives of Buddha, in which he comes to this conclusion (p. xli.): “I regard the literary history of the Barlaam literature as completely parallel with that of the Fables of Bidpai. Originally Buddhistic books, both lost their specifically Buddhistic traits before they left India, and made their appeal, by their parables, more than by their doctrines. Both were translated into Pehlevi in the reign of Chosroes, and from that watershed floated off into the literatures of all the great creeds. In Christianity alone, characteristically enough, one of them, the Barlaam book, was surcharged with dogma, and turned to polemical uses, with the curious result that Buddha became one of the champions of the Church. To divest the Barlaam-Buddha of this character, and see him in his original form, we must take a further journey and seek him in his home beyond the Himalayas.”

Sakya Muni as a Saint of the Roman Martyrology.

“Wie des Kunigs Sun in dem aufscziechen am ersten sahe in dem Weg eynen blinden und eyn aufsmörckigen und eynen alten krummen Man.”[7]

Professor Gaston Paris, in answer to Mr. Jacobs, writes (Poèmes et Lég. du Moyen Age, p. 213): “Mr. Jacobs thinks that the Book of Balauhar and Yûdâsaf was not originally Christian, and could have existed such as it is now in Buddhistic India, but it is hardly likely, as Buddha did not require the help of a teacher to find truth, and his followers would not have invented the person of Balauhar-Barlaam; on the other hand, the introduction of the Evangelical Parable of The Sower, which exists in the original of all the versions of our Book, shows that this original was a Christian adaptation of the Legend of Buddha. Mr. Jacobs seeks vainly to lessen the force of this proof in showing that this Parable has parallels in Buddhistic literature.”—H. C.]

Note 3.—Marco is not the only eminent person who has expressed this view of Sakyamuni’s life in such words. Professor Max Müller (u.s.) says: “And whatever we may think of the sanctity of saints, let those who doubt the right of Buddha to a place among them, read the story of his life as it is told in the Buddhistic canon. If he lived the life which is there described, few saints have a better claim to the title than Buddha; and no one either in the Greek or the Roman Church need be ashamed of having paid to his memory the honour that was intended for St. Josaphat, the prince, the hermit, and the saint.”

Note 4.—This is curiously like a passage in the Wisdom of Solomon: “Neque enim erant (idola) ab initio, neque erunt in perpetuum ... acerbo enim luctu dolens pater cito sibi rapti filii fecit imaginem: et illum qui tunc quasi homo mortuus fuerat nunc tamquam deum colere cœpit, et constituit inter servos suos sacra et sacrificia” (xiv. 13–15). Gower alludes to the same story; I know not whence taken:—

“Of Cirophanes, seith the booke,

That he for sorow, whiche he toke

Of that he sigh his sonne dede,

Of comfort knewe none other rede,

But lete do make in remembrance

A faire image of his semblance,

And set it in the market place:

Whiche openly to fore his face

Stood euery day, to done hym ease;

And thei that than wolden please

The Fader, shuld it obeye,

Whan that thei comen thilke weye.”—Confessio Amantis.[8]

Note 5.—Adam’s Peak has for ages been a place of pilgrimage to Buddhists, Hindus, and Mahomedans, and appears still to be so. Ibn Batuta says the Mussulman pilgrimage was instituted in the 10th century. The book on the history of the Mussulmans in Malabar, called Tohfat-ul-Mujáhidín (p. 48), ascribes their first settlement in that country to a party of pilgrims returning from Adam’s Peak. Marignolli, on his visit to the mountain, mentions “another pilgrim, a Saracen of Spain; for many go on pilgrimage to Adam.”

The identification of Adam with objects of Indian worship occurs in various forms. Tod tells how an old Rajput Chief, as they stood before a famous temple of Mahádeo near Udipúr, invited him to enter and worship “Father Adam.” Another traveller relates how Brahmans of Bagesar on the Sarjú identified Mahadeo and Parvati with Adam and Eve. A Malay MS., treating of the origines of Java, represents Brahma, Mahadeo, and Vishnu to be descendants of Adam through Seth. And in a Malay paraphrase of the Ramáyana, Nabi Adam takes the place of Vishnu. (Tod I. 96; J. A. S. B. XVI. 233; J. R. A. S. N.S. II. 102; J. Asiat. IV. s. VII. 438.)

Note 6.—The Pâtra, or alms-pot, was the most valued legacy of Buddha. It had served the three previous Buddhas of this world-period, and was destined to serve the future one, Maitreya. The Great Aṣoka sent it to Ceylon. Thence it was carried off by a Tamul chief in the 1st century, A.D., but brought back we know not how, and is still shown in the Malagawa Vihara at Kandy. As usual in such cases, there were rival reliques, for Fa-hian found the alms-pot preserved at Pesháwar. Hiuen Tsang says in his time it was no longer there, but in Persia. And indeed the Pâtra from Pesháwar, according to a remarkable note by Sir Henry Rawlinson, is still preserved at Kandahár, under the name of Kashkul (or the Begging-pot), and retains among the Mussulman Dervishes the sanctity and miraculous repute which it bore among the Buddhist Bhikshus. Sir Henry conjectures that the deportation of this vessel, the palladium of the true Gandhára (Pesháwar), was accompanied by a popular emigration, and thus accounts for the transfer of that name also to the chief city of Arachosia. (Koeppen, I. 526; Fah-hian, p. 36; H. Tsang, II. 106; J. R. A. S. XI. 127.)

Sir E. Tennent, through Mr. Wylie (to whom this book owes so much), obtained the following curious Chinese extract referring to Ceylon (written 1350): “In front of the image of Buddha there is a sacred bowl, which is neither made of jade nor copper, nor iron; it is of a purple colour, and glossy, and when struck it sounds like glass. At the commencement of the Yuen Dynasty (i.e. under Kúblái) three separate envoys were sent to obtain it.” Sanang Setzen also corroborates Marco’s statement: “Thus did the Khaghan (Kúblái) cause the sun of religion to rise over the dark land of the Mongols; he also procured from India images and reliques of Buddha; among others the Pâtra of Buddha, which was presented to him by the four kings (of the cardinal points), and also the chandana chu” (a miraculous sandal-wood image). (Tennent, I. 622; Schmidt, p. 119.)

The text also says that several teeth of Buddha were preserved in Ceylon, and that the Kaan’s embassy obtained two molars. Doubtless the envoys were imposed on; no solitary case in the amazing history of that relique, for the Dalada, or tooth relique, seems in all historic times to have been unique. This, “the left canine tooth” of the Buddha, is related to have been preserved for 800 years at Dantapura (“Odontopolis”), in Kalinga, generally supposed to be the modern Púri or Jagannáth. Here the Brahmans once captured it and carried it off to Palibothra, where they tried in vain to destroy it. Its miraculous resistance converted the king, who sent it back to Kalinga. About A.D. 311 the daughter of King Guhaśiva fled with it to Ceylon. In the beginning of the 14th century it was captured by the Tamuls and carried to the Pandya country on the continent, but recovered some years later by King Parakrama III., who went in person to treat for it. In 1560 the Portuguese got possession of it and took it to Goa. The King of Pegu, who then reigned, probably the most powerful and wealthy monarch who has ever ruled in Further India, made unlimited offers in exchange for the tooth; but the archbishop prevented the viceroy from yielding to these temptations, and it was solemnly pounded to atoms by the prelate, then cast into a charcoal fire, and finally its ashes thrown into the river of Goa.

The King of Pegu was, however, informed by a crafty minister of the King of Ceylon that only a sham tooth had been destroyed by the Portuguese, and that the real relique was still safe. This he obtained by extraordinary presents, and the account of its reception at Pegu, as quoted by Tennent from De Couto, is a curious parallel to Marco’s narrative of the Great Kaan’s reception of the Ceylon reliques at Cambaluc. The extraordinary object still so solemnly preserved at Kandy is another forgery, set up about the same time. So the immediate result of the viceroy’s virtue was that two reliques were worshipped instead of one!

The possession of the tooth has always been a great object of desire to Buddhist sovereigns. In the 11th century King Anarauhta, of Burmah, sent a mission to Ceylon to endeavour to procure it, but he could obtain only a “miraculous emanation” of the relique. A tower to contain the sacred tooth was (1855), however, one of the buildings in the palace court of Amarapura. A few years ago the King of Burma repeated the mission of his remote predecessor, but obtained only a model, and this has been deposited within the walls of the palace at Mandalé, the new capital. (Turnour in J. A. S. B. VI. 856 seqq.; Koeppen, I. 521; Tennent, I. 388, II. 198 seqq.; MS. Note by Sir A. Phayre; Mission to Ava, 136.)

Teeth of Buddha.
1. At Kandy, after Tennent. 2. At Fu-Chau, from Fortune.

Of the four eye-teeth of Sakya, one, it is related, passed to the heaven of Indra; the second to the capital of Gandhára; the third to Kalinga; the fourth to the snake-gods. The Gandhára tooth was perhaps, like the alms-bowl, carried off by a Sassanid invasion, and may be identical with that tooth of Fo, which the Chinese annals state to have been brought to China in A.D. 530 by a Persian embassy. A tooth of Buddha is now shown in a monastery at Fu-chau; but whether this be either the Sassanian present, or that got from Ceylon by Kúblái, is unknown. Other teeth of Buddha were shown in Hiuen Tsang’s time at Balkh, at Nagarahára (or Jalálábád), in Kashmir, and at Kanauj. (Koeppen, u.s.; Fortune, II. 108; H. Tsang, II. 31, 80, 263.)

Note 7.—Fa-hian writes of the alms-pot at Pesháwar, that poor people could fill it with a few flowers, whilst a rich man should not be able to do so with 100, nay, with 1000 or 10,000 bushels of rice; a parable doubtless originally carrying a lesson, like Our Lord’s remark on the widow’s mite, but which hardened eventually into some foolish story like that in the text.

The modern Mussulman story at Kandahar is that the alms-pot will contain any quantity of liquor without overflowing.

This Pâtra is the Holy Grail of Buddhism. Mystical powers of nourishment are ascribed also to the Grail in the European legends. German scholars have traced in the romances of the Grail remarkable indications of Oriental origin. It is not impossible that the alms-pot of Buddha was the prime source of them. Read the prophetic history of the Pâtra as Fa-hian heard it in India (p. 161); its mysterious wanderings over Asia till it is taken up into the heaven Tushita, where Maitreya the Future Buddha dwells. When it has disappeared from earth the Law gradually perishes, and violence and wickedness more and more prevail:

——“What is it?

The phantom of a cup that comes and goes?

* * * * * If a man

Could touch or see it, he was heal’d at once,

By faith, of all his ills. But then the times

Grew to such evil that the holy cup

Was caught away to Heaven, and disappear’d.”

—Tennyson’s Holy Grail.

CHAPTER XII.

CHAPTER XIII.

CHAPTER XIV.

CHAPTER XV.