The chains, of which Ibn Batuta gives a particular account, exist still.  The highest was called (he says) the chain of the Shahadat, 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 Siddharta, was the son of Suddhodhana, 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, Siddharta 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.”