TRAVELLERS TO THE EAST
But if the Sindbad saga is based on the stories of Mohammedan travellers
and sum up Arab adventure by sea in the tenth century, we must turn
to another Arab--Massoudy by name--for land travel of the same period.
Massoudy left his home at Bagdad very young and seems to have penetrated
into every Mohammedan country from Spain to farther India. In his
famous _Meadows of Gold_, with its one hundred and thirty-two chapters,
dedicated to "the most illustrious Kings," he describes the various
lands through which he has travelled, giving us at the same time a
good deal of incorrect information about lands he has never seen.
"I have gone so far towards the setting sun
That I have lost all remembrance of the east,
And my course has taken me so far towards the rising sun
That I have forgotten the very name of west."
One cannot but look with admiration on the energetic Arab traveller,
when one remembers the labour of travel even in the tenth century.
There were the long, hot rides through central Asia, under a burning
sun, the ascent of unknown mountains, the crossing of unbridged rivers.
From his lengthy work we will only extract a few details. Though he
had "gone so far toward the setting sun," his knowledge of the West
was very limited, and while Vikings tossed on the Atlantic westwards,
Massoudy tells us that it is "impossible to navigate beyond the Pillars
of Hercules, for no vessel sails on that sea; it is without cultivation
or inhabitant, and its end, like its depth, is unknown." Such was the
"Green Sea of Darkness" as it was called by the Arabs. Massoudy is
more at home when he journeys towards the rising sun to the East, but
his descriptions of China, the "Flowery Land," the "Celestial
Country," were to be excelled by others.
We must pass over Edrisi, who in 1153 wrote on "The going abroad of
a curious Man to explore all the Wonders of the World," which wonders
he explored very imperfectly, though he has left us a map of the world,
which may be seen to-day at the Bodleian Library at Oxford.
But we cannot pass over Benjamin of Tudela in so few words. "Our
Benjamin" he is called by Pinkerton, who in the eighteenth century
made a wonderful collection of voyages and travels of all ages. "Our
Benjamin" was a Jew hailing from Tudela in Spain, and he started forth
on his travels with a view to ascertaining the condition and numbers
of Jews living in the midst of the great Mohammedan Empire. Benjamin
made his way in the year 1160 to the "exceeding great city" of
Constantinople, which "hath none to compare with it except Bagdad--the
mighty city of the Arabs." With the great temple of St. Sophia and
its pillars of gold and silver, he was immensely struck. In wrapt
admiration he gazed at the Emperor's palace with its walls of beaten
gold, its hanging crown suspended over the Imperial throne, blazing
with precious stones, so splendid that the hall needed no other light.
No less striking were the crimson embroidered garments worn by the
Greeks, who rode to and from the city like princes on horseback.
Benjamin turns sadly to the Jewish quarter. No Jew might ride on
horseback here. All were treated as objects of contempt; they were
herded together, often beaten in the streets.
[Illustration: JERUSALEM AND THE PILGRIMS' WAYS TO IT IN THE TWELFTH
CENTURY. From a map of the twelfth century at Brussels.]
From the wealth and luxury of Constantinople Benjamin makes his way
to Syria. At Jerusalem he finds some two hundred Jews commanding the
dyeing trade. And here we must remind ourselves that the second crusade
was over and the third had not yet taken place, that Jerusalem, the
City of Peace, had been in the hands of the Mohammedans or Saracens
till 1099, when it fell into the hands of the Crusaders. From Jerusalem,
by way of Damascus, Benjamin entered Persia, and he gives us an
interesting account of Bagdad and its Khalifs. The Khalif was the head
of the Mohammedans in the same way that the Pope was the head of the
Christians. "He was," says "Our Benjamin," "a very dignified personage,
friendly towards the Jews, a kind-hearted man, but never to be seen."
Pilgrims from distant lands, passing through Bagdad on their way to
Mecca, prayed to be allowed to see "the brightness of his face," but
they were only allowed to kiss one end of his garment. Now, although
Benjamin describes the journey from Bagdad to China, it is very
doubtful if he ever got to China himself, so we will leave him
delighting in the glories of Bagdad, with its palm trees, its gardens
and orchards, rejoicing in the statistics of Jews, and turn to the
adventures of one, Carpini, who really did reach Tartary.
This Carpini, or Friar John, was a Franciscan who was chosen by the
Pope to go to the Great Khan of the Mongol Empire, which was threatening
to overrun Christendom. On 16th April 1245, Friar John left the
cloister for the unknown tract of country by which he had to pass into
China. By way of Bohemia he passed into Russia, and, having annexed
Brother Benedict in Poland and Brother Stephen in Bohemia, together
with a guide, Carpini made his way eastwards. It was mid-winter; the
travellers had to ride on Tartar horses, "for they alone could find
grass under the snow, or live, as animals must in Tartary, without
hay or straw." Sometimes Friar John fell so ill that he had to be placed
in a cart and carried through the deep snow.
[Illustration: TWO EMPERORS OF TARTARY. From the Catalan map, 1375.]
It was Easter 1246, just a year after their start, that Friar John
and his companions began the last section of their journey beyond the
Volga, and "most tearfully we set out," not knowing whether it was
"for life or for death." So thin had they all become that not one of
them could ride. Still they toiled on, till one July day they entered
Mongolia and found the headquarters of the Great Khan about half a
day's journey from Karakorum. They arrived in time to witness the
enthronement of the new Khan in August. Here were crowds of ambassadors
from Russia and Persia as well as from outlying parts of the growing
Mongol Empire. These were laden with gifts--indeed, there were no less
than five hundred crates full of silks, satins, brocades, fur, gold
embroidery. Friar John and his companions had no gifts to offer save
the letter from the Pope.
Impressive, indeed, in the eyes of the once cloistered friar must have
been this first sight of Eastern splendour. High on a neighbouring
hill stood the Khan's tent, resting on pillars plated with gold, top
and sides covered with silk brocades, while the great ceremony took
place. But the men of the West were not welcomed by the new Emperor
of the East. It was supposed that he intended shortly to unfurl his
Standard against the whole of the Western world, and in November Friar
John and his companions found themselves formally dismissed with a
missive from the Great Khan to the Pope, signed and sealed by the Khan
himself.
[Illustration: A TARTAR CAMP. From the Borgian map, 1453.]
The return journey was even more trying; winter was coming on, and
for nearly seven months the Pope's faithful envoys struggled on across
the endless open plains of Asia towards Russia, resting their eyes
on vast expanses of snow. At last they reached home, and Friar John
wrote his _Book of the Tartars_, in which he informs us that Mongolia
is in the east part of the world and that Cathay is "a country in the
east of Asia." To the south-west of Mongolia he heard of a vast desert,
where lived certain wild men unable to speak and with no joints in
their legs. These occupy themselves in making felt out of camel's hair
for garments to protect them from the weather.
Again Carpini tells us about that mythical character figuring in the
travel books of this time--Prester John. "The Mongol army," he says,
"marched against the Christians dwelling in the greater India, and
the king of that country, known by the name of Prester John, came forth
with his army to meet them. This Prester John caused a number of hollow
copper figures to be made, resembling men, which were stuffed with
combustibles and set upon horses, each having a man behind on the horse,
with a pair of bellows to stir up the fire. At the first onset of the
battle these mounted figures were sent forward to the charge; the men
who rode behind them set fire to the combustibles and then strongly
blew with the bellows; immediately the Mongol horses and men were burnt
with wild-fire and the air was darkened with smoke."
We shall hear of Prester John again. For within a few years of the
return of Friar John, another Franciscan friar, William de Rubruquis,
was sent forth, this time by the French king, Louis, to carry letters
to the Great Khan begging him to embrace Christianity and acknowledge
the supremacy of the Pope. William and his chosen companions had a
painful and difficult journey of some months before they reached the
camps on the Volga of one of the great Mongol lords. Indeed, "if it
had not been for the grace of God and the biscuit which we brought
with us, we had surely perished," remarks the pious friar in the history
of his adventures. Never once did they enjoy the shelter of a house
or tent, but passed the nights in the open air in a cart. At last they
were ordered to appear at the Court of the great ruler with all their
books and vestments.
"We were commanded to array ourselves in our sacred vestments to appear
before the prince. Putting on, therefore, our most precious ornaments,
I took a cushion in my arms, together with the Bible I had from the
King of France and the beautiful Psalter which the Queen bestowed upon
me: my companion at the same time carried the missal and a crucifix;
and the clerk, clothed in his surplice, bore a censer in his hand.
In this order we presented ourselves ... singing the Salve Regina."
It is a strange picture this--the European friars, in all the vestments
of their religion, standing before the Eastern prince of this far-off
country. They would fain have carried home news of his conversion,
but they were told in angry tones that the prince was "not a Christian,
but a Mongol."
[Illustration: INITIAL LETTER FROM THE MS. OF RUBRUQUIS AT CAMBRIDGE.
Probably representing the friars starting on their journey.]
They were dismissed with orders to visit the Great Khan at Karakorum.
Resuming their journey early in August, the messengers did not arrive
at the Court of the Great Khan till the day after Christmas. They were
miserably housed in a tiny hut with scarcely room for their beds and
baggage. The cold was intense. The bare feet of the friars caused great
astonishment to the crowds of onlookers, who stared at the strange
figures as though they had been monsters. However, they could not keep
their feet bare long, for very soon Rubruquis found that his toes were
frozen.
Chanting in Latin the hymn of the Nativity, the visitors were at last
admitted to the Imperial tent, hung about with cloth of gold, where
they found the Khan. He was seated on a couch--a "little man of moderate
height, aged about forty-five, and dressed in a skin spotted and glossy
like a seal." The Mongol Emperor asked numerous questions about the
kingdom of France and the possibility of conquering it, to the
righteous indignation of the friars. They stayed in the country till
the end of May, when they were dismissed, having failed in their mission,
but having gained a good deal of information about the great Mongol
Empire and its somewhat mysterious ruler.
But while the kingdoms in Europe trembled before the growing expansion
of the Mongol Empire and the dangers of Tartar hordes, the merchants
of Venice rejoiced in the new markets which were opening for them in
the East.