CHAPTER XVII.

AGADES.

_Friday, October 11._—Early in the morning the whole body of people from

Tawát who were residing in the place, ʿAbd el Káder at their head, paid

me a visit. The Tawátíye are still, at the present time (like their

forefathers more than three hundred years ago), the chief merchants in

Ágades; and they are well adapted to the nature of this market, for,

having but small means, and being more like pedlars or retail dealers,

they sit quietly down with their little stock, and try to make the most

of it by buying negro millet when it is cheap, and retailing it when

it becomes dear. Speculation in grain is now the principal business

transacted in Ágades, since the branches of commerce of which I shall

speak further on, and which once made the place rich and important,

have been diverted into other channels. Here I will only remark that it

is rather curious that the inhabitants of Tawát, though enterprising

travellers, never become rich. Almost all the money with which they trade

belongs to the people of Ghadámes; and their profits only allow them to

dress and live well, of which they are very fond. Till recently, the

Kél-owí frequented the market of Tawát, while they were excluded from

those of Ghát and Múrzuk; but at present the contrary takes place, and,

while they are admitted in the two latter places, Tawát has been closed

against them.

Several of these Tawátíye were about to return to their native country,

and were anxiously seeking information as to the time when the caravan

of the Sakomáren, which had come to Tin-téllust, intended to start on

their return journey, as they wished to go in their company. Among them

was a man of the name of ʿAbdallah, with whom I became afterwards very

intimate, and obtained from him a great deal of information. He was well

acquainted with that quarter of the African continent which lies between

Tawát, Timbúktu, and Ágades, having been six times to Ágades and five

times to Timbúktu, and was less exacting than the mass of his countrymen.

The most interesting circumstance which I learnt from them to-day was the

identity of the Emgédesi language with that of Timbúktu, a fact of which

I had no previous idea, thinking that the Háusa language, as it was the

vulgar tongue of the whole of Asben, was the indigenous language of the

natives of Ágades. But about this most interesting fact I shall say more

afterwards.

When the Tawátíye were about to go away, Ámagay, or Mággi, as he is

generally called, the chief eunuch of the Sultan, came; and I was ordered

by my Kél-owí companions, who had put on all their finery, to make myself

ready to pay a visit to the Sultan. Throwing, therefore, my white heláli

bernús over my black tobe, and putting on my richly ornamented Ghadámsi

shoes, which formed my greatest finery, I took up the letters and the

treaty, and solicited the aid of my servant Mohammed to assist me in

getting it signed; but he refused to perform any such service, regarding

it as a very gracious act on his part that he went with me at all.

The streets and the market-places were still empty when we went through

them, which left upon me the impression of a deserted place of bygone

times; for even in the most important and central quarters of the town

most of the dwelling-houses were in ruins. Some meat was lying ready for

sale, and a bullock was tied to a stake, while numbers of large vultures,

distinguished by their long naked neck, of reddish colour, and their

dirty-greyish plumage, were sitting on the pinnacles of the crumbling

walls, ready to pounce upon any kind of offal. These natural scavengers I

afterwards found to be the constant inhabitants of all the market-places,

not only in this town, but in all places in the interior. Directing

our steps by the high watch-tower, which, although built only of clay

and wood, yet, on account of its contrast to the low dwelling-houses

around, forms a conspicuous object, we reached the gate which leads into

the palace or fáda, a small separate quarter, with a large, irregular

courtyard, and from twenty to twenty-five larger and smaller dwellings.

Even these were partly in ruins; and one or two wretched conical cottages

built of reeds and grass, in the midst of them, showed anything but a

regard to cleanliness. The house, however, in which the Sultan himself

dwelt proved to have been recently repaired, and had a neat and orderly

appearance; the wall was nicely polished, and the gate newly covered in

with boards made of the stem of the dúm-tree, and furnished with a door

of the same material.

We seated ourselves apart, on the right side of a vestibule, which, as is

the case of all the houses of this place, is separated from the rest of

the room by a low balustrade, about ten inches high, and in this shape:

[Illustration]

Meanwhile, Mággi had announced us to his Majesty, and, coming back,

conducted us into the adjoining room, where he had taken his seat. It

was separated from the vestibule by a very heavy wooden door, and was

far more decent than I had expected. It was about forty or fifty feet in

every direction, the rather low roof being supported by two short and

massive columns of clay, slightly decreasing in thickness towards the

top, and furnished with a simple abacus, over which one layer of large

boards was placed in the breadth, and two in the depth of the room,

sustaining the roof, formed of lighter boards. These are covered in with

branches, over which mats are spread, the whole being completed with a

layer of clay. At the lower end of the room, between the two columns, was

a heavy door giving access into the interior of the house, while a large

opening on either side admitted the light.

[Illustration]

ʿAbd el Káderi, the son of the Sultan el Bákiri, was seated between

the column to the right and the wall, and appeared to be a tolerably

stout man, with large, benevolent features, as far as the white shawl

wound around his face would allow us to perceive. The white colour of

the lithám, and that of his shirt, which was of grey hue, together

with his physiognomy, at once announced him as not belonging to the

Tuarek race. Having saluted him one after the other, we took our seats

at some distance opposite to him, when, after having asked Hámma some

complimentary questions with regard to the old chief, he called me to

come near to him, and in a very kind manner entered into conversation

with me, asking me about the English nation, of which, notwithstanding

all their power, he had, in his retired spot, never before heard, not

suspecting that “English powder” was derived from them.

After explaining to him how the English, although placed at such an

immense distance, wished to enter into friendly relations with all the

chiefs and great men on the earth, in order to establish peaceable and

legitimate intercourse with them, I delivered to him Ánnur’s and Mr.

Richardson’s letters, and begged him to forward another letter to ʿAlíyu,

the Sultan of Sókoto, wherein we apologized for our incapability, after

the heavy losses and the many extortions we had suffered, of paying him

at present a visit in his capital, expressing to ʿAbd el Káder, at the

same time, how unjustly we had been treated by tribes subject to his

dominion, who had deprived us of nearly all the presents we were bringing

with us for himself and the other princes of Sudán. While expressing his

indignation on this account, and regretting that I should not be able to

go on directly to Sókoto, whither he would have sent me with the greatest

safety, in company with the salt-caravan of the Kél-gerés, and at the

same time giving vent to his astonishment that, although young, I had

already performed journeys so extensive, he dismissed us, after we had

placed before him the parcel containing the presents destined for him.

The whole conversation, not only with me, but also with my companions,

was in the Háusa language. I should have liked to have broached to him

the treaty at once, but the moment was not favourable.

On the whole, I look upon ʿAbd el Káder as a man of great worth, though

devoid of energy. All the people assured me that he was the best of the

family to which the Sultan of Ágades belongs. He had been already Sultan

before, but, a few years ago, was deposed, in order to make way for Hámed

eʾ Rufäy, whom he again succeeded; but in 1853, while I was in Sókoto, he

was once more compelled to resign in favour of the former.

[Illustration]

While returning with my companions to our lodging, we met six of Bóro’s

sons, among whom our travelling companion Háj ʿAli was distinguished for

his elegance. They were going to the palace in order to perform their

office as “fadáwa-n-serkí” (royal courtiers), and were very complaisant

when they were informed that I had been graciously received by his

Majesty. Having heard from them that Bóro, since his return, had been ill

with fever, I took the opportunity to induce my followers to accompany

me on a visit to him. Mohammed Bóro has a nice little house for a town

like Ágades, situated on the small area called Erárar-n-sákan, or “the

Place of the Young Camels.” It is shown in the accompanying sketch. The

house itself consists of two storeys, and furnishes a good specimen of

the better houses of the town; its interior was nicely whitewashed. Bóro,

who was greatly pleased with our visit, received us in a very friendly

manner, and when we left accompanied us a long way down the street.

Though he holds no office at present, he is nevertheless a very important

personage, not only in Ágades, but even in Sókoto, where he is regarded

as the wealthiest merchant. He has a little republic of his own (like

the venerable patriarchs), of not less than about fifty sons, with their

families; but he still possesses such energy and enterprise that in 1854

he was about to undertake another pilgrimage to Mekka.

When I had returned to my quarters, Mággi brought me, as an

acknowledgment of my presents, a fat, large-sized ram from ʿAbd el Káder,

which was an excellent proof that good meat can be got here. There is

a place called Aghíllad, three or four days’ journey west from Ágades,

which is said to be very rich in cattle. On this occasion I gave to the

influential eunuch, for himself, an aliyáfu, or subéta, a white shawl

with a red border. In the afternoon I took another walk through the town,

first to the Erázar-n-sákan, which, though it had been quiet in the

morning, exhibited now a busy scene, about fifty camels being offered for

sale, most of them very young, and the older ones rather indifferent. But

while the character of the article for sale could not be estimated very

high, that of the men employed in the business of the market attracted my

full attention.

They were tall men, with broad, coarse features, very different from any

I had seen before, and with long hair hanging down upon their shoulders

and over their face, in a way which is an abomination to the Tuarek; but

upon inquiry I learnt that they belonged to the tribe of the Ighdalén,

or Éghedel, a very curious mixed tribe of Berber and Sónghay blood, and

speaking the Sónghay language. The mode of buying and selling, also,

was very peculiar; for the price was neither fixed in dollars, nor in

shells, but either in merchandise of various descriptions, such as

calico, shawls, tobes, or in Negro millet, which is the real standard

of the market of Ágades at the present time, while, during the period

of its prime, it was apparently the gold of Gágho. This way of buying

or selling is called “kárba.” There was a very animated scene between

two persons, and to settle the dispute it was necessary to apply to the

“serki-n-káswa,” who for every camel sold in the market receives three

“réjel.”

[Illustration]

From this place we went to the vegetable-market, or

“káswa-n-delélti,”[12] which was but poorly supplied, only cucumbers and

molukhia (or _Corchorus olitorius_) being procurable in considerable

plenty. Passing thence to the butchers’ market, we found it very well

supplied, and giving proof that the town was not yet quite deserted,

although some strangers were just gathering for the installation of

the Sultan, as well as for the celebration of the great holiday, the

ʿAid el kebír, or Salla-léja. I will only observe that this market

(from its name, “káswa-n-rákoma,” or “yóbu yoëwoëni”) seems evidently

to have been formerly the market where full-grown camels were sold. We

then went to the third market, called katánga, where, in a sort of hall

supported by the stems of the dúm-tree, about six or seven women were

exhibiting, on a sort of frame, a variety of small things, such as beads

and necklaces, sandals, small oblong tin boxes such as the Kél-owí wear

for carrying charms, small leather boxes of the shape here represented,

but of all possible sizes, from the diameter of an inch to as much as

six inches. They are very neatly made, in different colours, and are

used for tobacco, perfumes, and other purposes, and are called “botta.”

I saw here also a very nice plate of copper, which I wanted to buy the

next day, but found that it was sold. A donkey-saddle, “ákomar,” and

a camel-saddle, or “kíri,” were exposed for sale. The name “katánga”

serves, I think, to explain the name by which the former (now deserted)

capital of Yóruba is generally known; I mean Katúnga, which name is given

to it only by the Háusa and other neighbouring tribes.

I then went, with Mohammed “the Foolish” and another Kél-owí, to a

shoemaker who lived in the south-western quarter of the town, and I was

greatly surprised to find here Berbers as artisans; for even if the

shoemaker was an Ámghi, and not a free Amóshagh (though from his frank

and noble bearing I had reason to suspect the latter), at least he

understood scarcely a word of Háusa, and all the conversation was carried

on in Uraghíye. He and his assistants were busy in making neat sandals;

and a pair of very handsome ones, which indeed could not be surpassed,

either in neatness or in strength, by the best that are made in Kanó,

were just ready, and formed the object of a long and unsuccessful

bargaining. The following day, however, Mohammed succeeded in obtaining

them for a mithkál. My shoes formed a great object of curiosity for

these Emgédesi shoemakers, and they confessed their inability to produce

anything like them. On returning to our quarters we met several horsemen,

with whom I was obliged to enter into a longer conversation than I liked,

in the streets. I now observed that several of them were armed with the

bow and arrow instead of the spear. Almost all the horses are dressed

with the “karaúrawa” (strings of small bells attached to their heads),

which make a great noise, and sometimes create a belief that a great host

is advancing, when there are only a few of these horsemen. The horses

in general were in indifferent condition, though of tolerable size; of

course they are ill fed, in a place where grain is comparatively dear.

The rider places only his great toe in the stirrup, the rest of the foot

remaining outside.

The occurrences of the day were of so varied a nature, opening to me a

glance into an entirely new region of life, that I had ample material for

my evening’s meditation, when I lay stretched out on my mat before the

door of my dark and close room. Nor was my bodily comfort neglected, the

Sultan being so kind and attentive as to send me a very palatable dish

of “finkáso,” a sort of thick pancake made of wheat, and well buttered,

which, after the unpalatable food I had had in Tintéllust, appeared to me

the greatest luxury in the world.

_Saturday, October 12._—Having thus obtained a glance into the interior

of the town, I was anxious to get a view of the whole of it, and

ascending, the following morning, the terrace of our house, obtained my

object entirely, the whole town being spread out before my eyes, with

the exception of the eastern quarter. The town is built on a level,

which is only interrupted by small hills formed of rubbish heaped up

in the midst of it by the negligence of the people. Excepting these,

the line formed by the flat-terraced houses is interrupted only by the

mesállaje (which formed my basis for laying down the plan of the town),

besides about fifty or fifty-five dwellings raised to two storeys, and

by three dúm-trees and five or six talha-trees. Our house also had

been originally provided with an upper storey, or rather with a single

garret—for generally the upper storey consists of nothing else; but it

had yielded to time, and only served to furnish amusement to my foolish

friend Mohammed, who never failed, when he found me on the terrace, to

endeavour to throw me down the breach. Our old close-handed friend Ánnur

did not seem to care much for the appearance of his palace in the town,

and kept his wife here on rather short allowance. By-and-by, as I went

every day to enjoy this panorama, I was able to make a faithful view of

the western quarter of the town as seen from hence, which gives a more

exact idea of the place than any verbal description could do.

About noon the amanókal sent his musicians to honour me and my companions

with a performance; they were four or five in number, and were provided

with the instruments usual in Sudán, in imitation of the Arabs. More

interesting was the performance of a single “maimólo,” who visited us

after we had honourably rewarded the royal musicians, and accompanied his

play, on a three-stringed “mólo,” or guitar, with an extemporaneous song.

My companions then took me to the house of the kádhi, after having paid

a short visit to the camel-market. The kádhi, or here rather alkáli,

who lives a little south-west from the mosque, in a house entirely

detached on all sides, was sitting with the mufti in the vestibule of

his dwelling, where sentence is pronounced, and after a few compliments,

proceeded to hear the case of my companions, who had a law-suit against

a native of the town, named Wá-n-seres, and evidently of Berber origin.

Evidence was adduced to the effect that he had sold a she-camel which had

been stolen from the Kél-owí, while he (the defendant) on his part proved

that he had bought it from a man who swore that it was not a stolen

camel. The pleas of both parties having been heard, the judge decided in

favour of Wá-n-seres. The whole transaction was carried on in Temáshight,

or rather in Uraghíye. Then came another party, and while their case was

being heard we went out and sat down in front of the house, under the

shade of a sort of verandah consisting of mats supported by long stakes,

after which we took leave of the kádhi, who did not seem to relish my

presence, and afterwards showed no very friendly feelings towards me.

While my lazy companions wanted to go home, I fortunately persuaded

Mohammed, after much reluctance, to accompany me through the southern

part of the town, where, lonely and deserted as it seemed to be, it was

not prudent for me to go alone, as I might have easily got into some

difficulty. My servant Amánkay was still quite lame with the guineaworm;

and Mohammed, the Tunisian shushán, had reached such a pitch of insolence

when he saw me alone among a fanatical population that I had given him

up entirely. First, leaving the fáda to our right, we went out through

the “kófa-n-Alkáli;” for here the walls, which have been swept away

entirely on the east side of the town, have still preserved some degree

of elevation, though in many places one may easily climb over them. On

issuing from the gate I was struck with the desolate character of the

country on this side of the town, though it was enlivened by women and

slaves going to fetch water from the principal well (which is distant

about half a mile from the gate), all the water inside the town being

of bad quality for drinking. At some distance from the gate were the

ruins of an extensive suburb called Ben Gottára, half covered with sand,

and presenting a very sorry spectacle. It was my design to go round the

southern part of the town; but my companion either was, or pretended to

be, too much afraid of the Kél-gerés, whose encampment lay at no great

distance from the walls. So we re-entered it, and followed the northern

border of its deserted southern quarter, where only a few houses are

still inhabited. Here I found three considerable pools of stagnant water,

which had collected in deep hollows from whence, probably, the materials

for building had been taken, though their form was a tolerably regular

oval. They have each a separate name, the westernmost being called from

the Masráta, who have given their name to the whole western quarter, as

well as to a small gate still in existence; the next, southwards from

the kófa-n-Alkáli, is called (in Emgedesíye) “Masráta-hogú-me,” for the

three languages—the Temáshight or Tarkíye, the Góber or Háusa language,

and the Sónghay- or Sonrhay-kini—are very curiously mixed together in

the topography of this town, the natural consequence of the mixture of

these three different national elements. This mixture of languages was

well calculated to make the office of interpreter in this place very

important, and the class of such men a very numerous one.

In the Masráta pool, which is the largest of the three, two horses

were swimming, while women were busy washing clothes. The water has

a strong taste of salt, which is also the case with two of the three

wells still in use within the town. Keeping from the easternmost pool

(which is called, like the whole quarter around, Terjemáne, from the

interpreters whose dwellings were chiefly hereabout) a little more to

the south-east, I was greatly pleased at finding among the ruins in the

south-eastern quarter, between the quarters Akáfan árina and Imurdán,

some very well-built and neatly polished houses, the walls of which were

of so excellent workmanship that even after having been deprived of their

roofs, for many years, perhaps, they had sustained scarcely any injury.

One of them was furnished with ornamented niches, and by the remains of

pipes, and the whole arrangement bore evident traces of warm baths. Music

and song diverted us in the evening, while we rested on our mats in the

different corners of our courtyard.

_Sunday, October 13._—My Kél-owí companions regaled me with a string of

dates from Fáshi, the westernmost oasis of the Tébu, or, as the Tuarek

call them, Berauni. But instead of indulging myself in this luxury, I

laid it carefully aside as a treat for my visitors, to whom I had (so

small were my means at present) neither coffee nor sugar to offer. I

then accompanied my friends once more to the Alkáli; but the litigation

which was going on being tedious, I left them, and returned quite alone

through the town, sitting down a moment with the Tawatíye, who generally

met at the house of the Emgédesi Ídder, a sort of Tawáti agent and an

intelligent man.

[Illustration]

When I returned to our house I found there a very interesting young

man of the tribe of the Ighdalén, with a round face, very regular and

agreeable features, fine lively black eyes, and an olive complexion only

a few shades darker than that of an Italian peasant. His hair was black,

and about four inches long, standing upright, but cut away all round the

ears, which gave it a still more bristling appearance. I hoped to see

him again, but lost sight of him entirely. The Arabs call these people

Arab-Tuarek, indicating that they are a mixed race between the Arab and

Berber nation; and their complexion agrees well with this designation,

but it is remarkable that they speak a Sónghay dialect. They possess

scarcely anything except camels, and are regarded as a kind of Merábetín.

I afterwards went to call upon our old friend Ánnur Karamí, from Aghwau,

who had come to Ágades a day or two before us, and had accompanied me

also on my visit to the Sultan. He lived, together with my amiable young

friend the Tinýlkum Slimán, in the upper storey, or soro, of a house, and

when I called was very busy selling fine Egyptian sheep-leather called

kurna (which is in great request here, particularly that of a green

colour) to a number of lively females, who are the chief artisans in

leather-work. Some of them were of tolerably good appearance, with light

complexion and regular Arab features. When the women were gone Ánnur

treated me with fura or ghussub-water; and young Slimán, who felt some

little remorse for not having been able to withstand the charms of the

Emgédesíye coquettes, told me that he was about to marry a Ma-Ásbenchi

girl, and that the wedding would be celebrated in a few days. As to the

fura, people who eat or rather drink it together squat down round the

bowl, where a large spoon, the “lúdde,” sometimes very neatly worked,

goes round, everybody taking a spoonful and passing the spoon to his

neighbour. On the previous page is a drawing of this drinking-spoon, as

well as of the common spoon, both of ordinary workmanship.

The houses in Ágades do not possess all the conveniences which one would

expect to find in houses in the north of Europe; but here, as in many

Italian towns, the principle of the _da per tutto_, which astonished

Göethe so much at Rivoli, on the Lago di Garda, is in full force, being

greatly assisted by the many ruined houses which are to be found in every

quarter of the town. But the free nomadic inhabitant of the wilderness

does not like this custom, and rather chooses to retreat into the open

spots outside the town. The insecurity of the country and the feuds

generally raging oblige them still to congregate, even on such occasions.

When they reach some conspicuous tree the spears are all stuck into the

ground, and the party separates behind the bushes; after which they again

meet together under the tree, and return in solemn procession into the

town.

By making such little excursions I became acquainted with the shallow

depressions which surround Ágades, and which are not without importance

for the general relations of the town, while they afford fodder for any

caravan visiting the market, and also supply the inhabitants with very

good water. The name of the depression to the north is Tagúrast, that

to the south-west Mérmeru; towards the south-east Amelúli, with a few

kitchen-gardens; and another a little further on, south-south-east,

Tésak-n-tálle; while at a greater distance, to the west, is Tára-bére

(meaning “the wide area,” or plain, “babá-n-sarari”). Unfortunately, the

dread my companions had of the Kél-gerés did not allow me to visit the

valleys at a greater distance, the principal of which is that called el

Hakhsás, inhabited by Imghád, and famous for its vegetable productions,

with which the whole town is supplied.

Mohammed the Foolish succeeded in the evening in getting me into some

trouble, which gave him great delight; for seeing that I took more than

common interest in a national dance, accompanied with a song, which was

going on at some distance east-north-east from our house, he assured me

that Hámma was there, and had told him that I might go and join in their

amusement. Unfortunately, I was too easily induced; and hanging only a

cutlass over my shoulder, I went thither unaccompanied, sure of finding

my protector in the merry crowd. It was about ten o’clock at night, the

moon shining very brightly on the scene. Having first viewed it from some

distance, I approached very near, in order to observe the motions of the

dancers. Four young men, placed opposite to each other in pairs, were

dancing with warlike motions, and, stamping the ground violently with

the left foot, turned round in a circle, the motions being accompanied

by the energetic clapping of hands of a numerous ring of spectators. It

was a very interesting sight, and I should have liked to stay longer; but

finding that Hámma was not present, and that all the people were young,

and many of them buzawe, I followed the advice of ʿAbdu, one of Ánnur’s

slaves, who was among the crowd, to withdraw as soon as possible. I

had, however, retraced my steps but a short way when, with the war-cry

of Islam, and drawing their swords, all the young men rushed after me.

Being, however, a short distance in advance, and fortunately not meeting

with any one in the narrow street, I reached our house without being

obliged to make use of my weapon; but my friends the Kél-owí seeing me

in trouble, had thrown the chain over the door of our house, and, with a

malicious laugh, left me outside with my pursuers; so that I was obliged

to draw my cutlass in order to keep them at bay, though, if they had made

a serious attack, I should have fared ill enough with my short, blunt

European weapon, against their long, sharp swords. I was rather angry

with my barbarous companions, particularly with Mohammed, and when after

a little delay they opened the door, I loaded my pistols and threatened

to shoot the first man that troubled me. However, I soon felt convinced

that the chief fault was my own; and in order to obliterate the bad

impression which this little adventure was likely to make in the town,

particularly as the great Mohammedan feast was at hand, which of course

could not but strengthen greatly the prejudice against a Christian, I

resolved to stay at home the next few days. This I could do the more

easily as the terrace of our house allowed me to observe all that was

going on in the place.

I therefore applied myself entirely for a few days to the study of

the several routes which, with the assistance of ʿAbdallah, I had

been able to collect from different people, and which will be given

in the Appendix, and to the language of Ágades. For though I had left

all my books behind at Tin-téllust, except that volume of “Prichard’s

Researches” which treats of Africa, I had convinced myself, from the

specimens which he gives of the language of Timbúktu, that the statement

of my friends from Tawát with regard to the identity of the languages

of the two places was quite correct, only with this qualification, that

here this language had been greatly influenced by intercourse with the

Berbers, from whom sundry words were borrowed, while the Arabic seemed

to have had little influence beyond supplanting the numerals from 4

upwards. I was also most agreeably surprised and gratified to find this

identity confirmed by the fact that the people of Ágades give the Tuarek

in general the name under which that tribe of them which lives near

Timbúktu and along the Niger had become known to Mungo Park in those

quarters where the language of Timbúktu is spoken. This was indeed very

satisfactory, as the native name of that powerful tribe is entirely

different; for the Surka, as they are called by Mungo Park, are the same

as the Awelímmiden, of whom I had already heard so much in Asben (the

inhabitants of which country seemed to regard them with much dread), and

with whom I was afterwards to enter into the most intimate relations.

While residing in Ágades I was not yet aware of all the points of

information which I have been able to collect in the course of my

travels, and I was at a loss to account for the identity of language in

places so widely separated from each other by immense tracts of desert,

and by countries which seemed to have been occupied by different races.

But while endeavouring, in the further course of my journey, to discover

as far as possible the history of the nations with whom I had to deal, I

found the clue for explaining this apparently marvellous phenomenon, and

shall lay it before my readers in the following chapter. To the Tawáti

ʿAbdallah I was indebted for information on a variety of interesting

matters, which I found afterwards confirmed in every respect. In a few

points his statements were subject to correction, and still more to

improvement, but in no single case did I find that he had deviated from

the truth. I state this deliberately, in order to show that care must

be taken to distinguish between information collected systematically by

a native enjoying the entire confidence of his informant, and who, from

his knowledge of the language and the subject about which he inquires, is

able to control his informant’s statements, and that which is picked up

incidentally by one who scarcely knows what he asks.

But to return to my diary, the visits paid me by the other people of

Tawát became less frequent, as I had no coffee to treat them with; but

I was rather glad of this circumstance, as my time was too short for

labouring in that wide field of new information which opened before me,

and it was necessary to confine myself at present to narrower limits. In

this respect I was extremely fortunate in having obeyed my impulse to

visit this place, which, however desolate it may appear to the traveller

who first enters it, is still the centre of a large circle of commercial

intercourse, while Tin-téllust is nothing but a small village, important

merely from the character of the chief who resides in it, and where

even those people who know a little about the country are afraid to

communicate that very little. I would advise any traveller who should

hereafter visit this country to make a long stay in this place, if he

can manage to do so in comfort; for I am sure that there still remains

to be collected in Ágades a store of the most valuable and interesting

information.

In the afternoon of the 15th of October (the eve of the great holiday)

ten chiefs of the Kél-gerés, on horseback, entered the town, and towards

evening news was brought that Astáfidet, the chief of the Kél-owí

residing in Ásodi, was not far off, and would make his solemn entry early

in the morning. My companions, therefore, were extremely busy in getting

ready and cleaning their holiday dress, or “yadó,” and Hámma could not

procure tassels enough to adorn his high red cap, in order to give to

his short figure a little more height. Poor fellow! he was really a

good man, and one of the best of the Kél-owí; and the news of his being

killed, in the sanguinary battle which was fought between his tribe and

the Kél-gerés in 1854, grieved me not a little. In the evening there

were singing and dancing (“wargi” and “wása”) all over the town, and all

the people were merry except the followers of Mákita, or Ímkiten, “the

Pretender,” and the Sultan ʿAbd el Káder was obliged to imprison three

chiefs of the Itísan, who had come to urge Mákita’s claims.

It was on this occasion that I learnt that the mighty King of Ágades had

not only a common prison, “gida-n-damré,” wherein he might confine the

most haughty chiefs, but that he even exercised over them the power of

life and death, and that he dispensed the favours of a terrible dungeon,

bristling with swords and spears standing upright, upon which he was

authorized to throw any distinguished malefactor. This latter statement,

of the truth of which I had some doubt, was afterwards confirmed to me by

the old chief Ánnur. In any case, however, such a cruel punishment cannot

but be extremely rare.

_Wednesday, October 16._—The 10th of Dhú el kádhi, 1266, was the first

day of the great festival ʿAid el kebír, or Salla-léja (the feast of

the sacrifice of the sheep), which in these regions is the greatest

holiday of the Mohammedans, and was in this instance to have a peculiar

importance and solemnity for Agades, as the installation of ʿAbd el

Káder, who had not yet publicly assumed the government, was to take

place the same day. Early in the morning, before daylight, Hámma and

his companions left the house and mounted their camels, in order to pay

their compliments to Astáfidet, and join him in his procession; and about

sunrise the young chief entered and went directly to the “fáda,” at the

head of from two hundred to three hundred Mehára, having left the greater

number of his troop, which was said to amount to about two thousand men,

outside the town.

Then, without much ceremony or delay, the installation, or “sarauta”

of the new Sultan took place. The ceremonial was gone through inside

the fáda, but this was the procedure: First of all, ʿAbd el Káder was

conducted from his private apartments to the public hall. Then the chiefs

of the Itísan and Kél-gerés, who went in front, begged him to sit down

upon the “gadó,” a sort of couch or divan made of the leaves of the

palm-tree, or of the branches of other trees, similar to the angaríb

used in Egypt and the lands of the Upper Nile, and covered with mats

and a carpet. Upon this the new Sultan sat down, resting his feet on

the ground, not being allowed to put them upon the gadó, and recline in

the Oriental style, until the Kél-owí desired him to do so. Such is the

ceremony, symbolical of the combined participation of these different

tribes in the investiture of their Sultan.

This ceremony being concluded, the whole holiday procession left the

palace on its way to a chapel of a merábet called Sídi Hammáda, in

Tára-bére, outside the town, where, according to an old custom, the

prince was to say his prayers. This is a rule prevailing over the whole

of Mohammedan Africa, and one which I myself witnessed in some of

the most important of its capitals—in Ágades, in Kúkawa, in Más-eña,

in Sókoto, and in Timbúktu; everywhere the principle is the same.

Not deeming it prudent on such an occasion to mix with the people, I

witnessed the whole procession from the terrace of our house, though I

should have liked to have had a nearer view. The procession having taken

its course through the most important quarter of the town, and through

the market-places, turned round from the “káswa-n-delélti” to the oldest

quarter of the town, and then returned westward, till at last it reached

the above-mentioned chapel or tomb of Sídi Hammáda, where there is a

small cemetery. The prayers being finished, the procession returned

by the southern part of the town, and about ten o’clock the different

parties which had composed the _cortège_ separated.

In going as well as in returning the order of the procession was as

follows: In front of all, accompanied by the musicians, rode the Sultan,

on a very handsome horse of Tawáti breed, wearing, over his fine Sudán

robe of coloured cotton and silk, the blue bernús I had presented to

him, and wearing on his side a handsome scimitar with gold handle. Next

to him rode the two sáraki-n-turáwa—Bóro, the ex-serki, on his left,

and Ashu, who held the office at the time, on his right—followed by the

“fádawa-n-serki,” after whom came the chiefs of the Itísan and Kél-gerés,

all on horseback, in full dress and armour, with their swords, daggers,

long spears, and immense shields.

Then came the longer train of the Kél-owí, mostly on mehára, or swift

camels, with Sultan Astáfidet at their head; and last of all followed

the people of the town, a few on horseback, but most of them on foot,

and armed with swords and spears, and several with bows and arrows. The

people were all dressed in their greatest finery, and it would have

formed a good subject for an artist. It recalled the martial processions

of the Middle Ages, the more so as the high caps of the Tuarek,

surrounded by a profusion of tassels on every side, together with the

black “tesílgemist,” or lithám, which covers the whole face, leaving

nothing but the eyes visible, and the shawls wound over this and round

the cap, combine to imitate the shape of the helmet, while the black and

coloured tobes (over which on such occasions the principal people wear a

red bernús thrown across their shoulders) represent very well the heavier

dress of the knights of yore. I will only add that the fact of the Sultan

wearing on so important and solemn an occasion a robe which had been

presented to him by a stranger and a Christian had a powerful influence

on the tribes collected here, and spread a beneficial report far westward

over the desert.

Shortly after the procession was over, the friendly Haj ʿAbdúwa, who,

after he had parted from us in Eghellál, had attached himself to the

troop of Astáfidet, came to pay me a visit. He was now tolerably free

from fever, but begged for some Epsom salts, besides a little gunpowder.

He informed me that there was much sickness in the town, that from two

to three people died daily, and that even Astáfidet was suffering from

the prevalent disease. This was the small-pox, a very fatal disease in

Central Africa, against which, however, several of the native Pagan

tribes secure themselves by inoculation, a precaution from which

Mohammedans are withheld by religious prejudice. I then received a visit

from the sons of Bóro, in their official character as “fádawa-n-serki.”

They wished to inform themselves, apparently, with reference to my

adventure the other night, whether the townspeople behaved well towards

me; and I was prudent enough to tell them that I had nothing to complain

of, my alarm having been the consequence of my own imprudence. In fact

the people behaved remarkably well, considering that I was the first

Christian that ever visited the town; and the little explosions of

fanaticism into which the women and children sometimes broke out, when

they saw me on our terrace, rather amused me. During the first days

of my residence in Ágades they most probably took me for a Pagan or a

Polytheist, and cried after me the confessional words of Islam, laying

all the stress upon the word Allah, “the One God;” but after a few days,

when they had learnt that I likewise worshipped the Deity, they began to

emphasize the name of their Prophet.

There was held about sunset a grave and well-attended divan of all the

chiefs, to consult with respect to a “yáki,” or “égehen,” a ghazzia to

be undertaken against the Mehárebín or freebooters of the Awelímmiden.

While we were still in Tin-téllust the rumour had spread of an expedition

undertaken by the latter tribe against Aïr, and the people were all

greatly excited. For the poor Kél-owí, who have degenerated from their

original vigour and warlike spirit by their intermixture with the black

population and by their peaceable pursuits, are not less afraid of the

Awelímmiden than they are of the Kél-gerés; and old Ánnur himself used

to give me a dreadful description of that tribe, at which I afterwards

often laughed heartily with the very people whom he intended to depict to

me as monsters. By way of consoling us for the losses we had sustained,

and the ill-treatment we had experienced from the people of Aïr, he told

us that among the Awelímmiden we should have been exposed to far greater

hardships, as they would not have hesitated to cut the tent over our

heads into pieces, in order to make shirts of it. The old chief’s serious

speeches had afterwards the more comical effect upon me as the tent

alluded to, a common English marquee, mended as it was with cotton strips

of all the various fashions of Negroland, constantly formed a subject

of the most lively scientific dispute among those barbarians, who, not

having seen linen before, were at a loss to make out of what stuff it

was originally made. But, unluckily, I had not among the Kél-owí such a

steadfast protector and mediator and so sensible a friend as I had when,

three years later, I went among the Awelímmiden, who would certainly have

treated me in another way if I had fallen into their hands unprotected.

The old and lurking hostility amongst the Kél-owí and Kél-gerés, which

was at this very moment threatening an outbreak, had been smoothed

down by the influential and intelligent chief Sídi Ghalli el Háj Ánnur

(properly Eʾ Núr), one of the first men in Ágades; and those tribes had

sworn to forget their private animosities, in order to defend themselves

against, and revenge themselves upon, their common enemy the Awelímmiden.

Hámma was very anxious to get from me a good supply of powder for Sídi

Ghalli, who was to be the leader of the expedition; but I had scarcely

any with me. While I was reclining in the evening rather mournfully

upon my mat, not having been out of the house these last few days, the

old friendly blacksmith came up, and invited me to a promenade, and

with the greatest pleasure I acceded to the proposal. We left the town

by the eastern side, the moon shining brightly, and throwing her magic

light over the ruins of this once wealthy abode of commerce. Turning

then a little south, we wandered over the pebbly plain till the voices

heard from the encampment of the Kél-gerés frightened my companion, and

we turned more northwards to the wells in Amelúli; having rested here

awhile, we returned to our quarters.

_Thursday, October 17._—Ánnur karamí, our amiable and indolent

attendant, left this place for Tin-téllust with a note which I wrote to

my colleagues, informing them of my safe arrival, my gracious reception,

and the general character of the place. To-day the whole town was in

agitation in consequence of one of those characteristic events which, in

a place like Ágades, serve to mark the different periods of the year;

for here a man can do nothing singly, but all must act together. The

salt-caravan of the Itísan and Kél-gerés had collected, mustering, I was

told, not less than ten thousand camels, and had encamped in Mérmeru and

Tesak-n-tállem, ready to start for the salt-mines of Bilma, along a road

which will be indicated further on. However exaggerated the number of

the camels might be, it was certainly a very large caravan, and a great

many of the inhabitants went out to settle their little business with the

men, and take leave of their friends. Ghámbelu, the chief of the Itísan,

very often himself accompanies this expedition, in which also many of the

Tagáma take a part.

In the course of the day I had a rather curious conversation with a

man from Táfidet, the native place of Háj ʿAbdúwa. After exchanging

compliments with me, he asked me, abruptly, whether I always knew where

water was to be found; and when I told him that though I could not

exactly say in every case at what depth water was to be found, yet that,

from the configuration of the ground, I should be able to tell the spot

where it was most likely to be met with, he asked whether I had seen

rock inscriptions on the road from Ghát; and I answered him that I had,

and generally near watering-places. He then told me that I was quite

right, but that in Táfidet there were many inscriptions upon rocks at a

distance from water. I told him that perhaps at an earlier period water

might have been found there, or that the inscriptions might have been

made by shepherds; but this he thought very improbable, and persisted

in his opinion that these inscriptions indicated ancient sepulchres,

in which, probably, treasures were concealed. I was rather surprised

at the philosophical conclusions at which this barbarian had arrived,

and conjectured, as was really the case, that he had accompanied Háj

ʿAbdúwa on his pilgrimage and on his passage through Egypt, and had

there learned to make some archæological observations. He affected to

believe that I was able to read the inscriptions, and tell all about

the treasures; but I assured him that while he was partially right with

regard to the inscriptions, he was quite wrong so far as regarded the

treasures, as these rock inscriptions, so far as I was able to decipher

them, indicated only names. But I was rather sorry that I did not myself

see the inscriptions of which this man spoke, as I had heard many reports

about them which had excited my curiosity, and I had even sent the little

Fezzáni Fáki Makhlúk expressly to copy them, who, however, brought me

back only an illegible scrawl.

_Friday, October 18._—The last day of the Salla-léja was a merry day for

the lower class of the inhabitants, but a serious one for the men of

influence and authority; and many councils were held, one of them in my

room. I then received a visit from a sister’s son of the Sultan, whose

name was Alkáli, a tall, gentlemanlike man, who asked me why I did not

yet leave Ágades and return to Tin-téllust. It seemed that he suspected

me of waiting till the Sultan had made me a present in return for that

received by him; but I told him that, though I wished ʿAbd el Káder to

write me a letter for my Sultan, which would guarantee the safety of some

future traveller belonging to our tribe, I had no further business here,

but was only waiting for Hámma, who had not yet finished his bartering

for provisions. He had seen me sketching on the terrace, and was somewhat

inquisitive about what I had been doing there; but I succeeded in

directing his attention to the wonderful powers of the pencil, with which

he became so delighted that when I gave him one he begged another from

me, in order that they might suffice for his lifetime.

Interesting also was the visit of Háj Beshír, the wealthy man of Iferwán

whom I have already mentioned repeatedly, and who is an important

personage in the country of Aïr. Unfortunately, instead of using his

influence to facilitate our entrance into the country, his son had been

among the chief leaders of the expedition against us. Though not young,

he was lively and social, and asked me whether I should not like to marry

some nice Emgedesíye girl. When he was gone I took a long walk through

the town with Hámma, who was somewhat more communicative to-day than

usual; but his intelligence was not equal to his energy and personal

courage, which had been proved in many a battle. He had been often

wounded, and having in the last skirmish received a deep cut on his head,

he had made an enormous charm, which was generally believed to guarantee

him from any further wound; and in fact, if the charm were to receive the

blow, it would not be altogether useless, for it was a thick book. But

his destiny was written.

There was a rather amusing episode in the incidents of the day. The

ex-Sultan Hámed eʾ Rufäy, who had left many debts behind him, sent

ten camel-loads of provisions and merchandise to be divided among his

creditors; but a few Tuarek to whom he owed something seized the whole,

so that the other poor people never obtained a farthing. To-day the great

salt-caravan of the Kél-gerés and Itísan really started.

_Saturday, October 19._—Hámma and his companions were summoned to a

council which was to decide definitively in what quarter the arm of

justice, now raised in wrath, was to strike the first blow; and it

was resolved that the expedition should first punish the Imghád, the

Ikázkezan, and Fádë-ang. The officer who made the proclamation through

the town was provided with a very rude sort of drum, which was, in fact,

nothing but an old barrel covered with a skin.

_Sunday, October 20._—The most important event in the course of the day

was a visit which I received from Mohammed Bóro, our travelling companion

from Múrzuk, with his sons. It was the best proof of his noble character,

that before we separated perhaps never to meet again, he came to speak

with me, and to explain our mutual relations fairly. He certainly could

not deny that he had been extremely angry with us; and I could not

condemn him on this account, for he had been treated ignominiously. While

Mr. Gagliuffi told him that we were persuaded that the whole success of

our proceedings lay in his hands, he had been plainly given to understand

that we set very little value on his services. Besides, he had sustained

some heavy losses on the journey, and by waiting for us had consumed the

provisions which he had got ready for the march.

Although an old man, he was first going with the expedition, after which

he intended accompanying the caravan of the Kél-gerés to Sókoto with

his whole family; for Sókoto is his real home. The salt-caravan and the

company of this man offered a splendid opportunity for reaching that

place in safety and by the most direct road; but our means did not allow

of such a journey, and after all it was better, at least for myself, that

it was not undertaken, since, as matters went, it was reserved for me,

before I traced my steps towards the western regions, to discover the

upper navigable course of the eastern branch of the so-called Niger, and

make sundry other important discoveries. Nevertheless, Bóro expressed his

hope of seeing me again in Sókoto, and his wish might easily have been

accomplished. He certainly must have been, when in the vigour of life, a

man, in the full sense of the word, and well deserved the praise of the

Emgedesíye, who have a popular song beginning with the words, “Ágades

has no men but Bóro and Dahámmi.” I now also became aware why he had

many enemies in Múrzuk, who unfortunately succeeded in making Gagliuffi

believe that he had no authority whatever in his own country; for as

serki-n-turáwa he had to levy the tax of ten mithkáls on every camel-load

of merchandise, and this he is said to have done with some degree of

severity. After a long conversation on the steps of the terrace, we

parted, the best possible friends.

Not so pleasant to me, though not without interest, was the visit of

another great man—Belróji, the támberi or war-chieftain of the Ighólar

Im-esághlar. He was still in his prime, but my Kél-owí (who were always

wrangling like children) got up a desperate fight with him in my very

room, which was soon filled with clouds of dust; and the young Slimán

entered during the row, and joining in it, it became really frightful.

The Kél-owí were just like children; when they went out they never failed

to put on all their finery, which they threw off as soon as they came

within doors, resuming their old dirty clothes.

It was my custom in the afternoon, when the sun had set behind the

opposite buildings, to walk up and down in front of our house; and while

so doing to-day I had a long conversation with two chiefs of the Itísan

on horseback, who came to see me, and avowed their sincere friendship

and regard. They were fine, tall men, but rather slim, with a noble

expression of countenance and of light colour. Their dress was simple

but handsome, and arranged with great care. All the Tuarek, from Ghát as

far as Háusa, and from Alákkos to Timbúktu, are passionately fond of the

tobes and trousers called “tailelt” (the Guinea-fowl), or “fílfil” (the

pepper), on account of their speckled colour. They are made of silk and

cotton interwoven, and look very neat. The lowest part of the trousers,

which forms a narrow band about two inches broad, closing rather tightly,

is embroidered in different colours. None of the Tuarek of pure blood

would, I think, degrade themselves by wearing on their head the red cap.

_Monday, October 21._—Early in the morning I went with Hámma to take

leave of the Sultan, who had been too busy for some days to favour me

with an audience; and I urged my friend to speak of the treaty though

I was myself fully aware of the great difficulty which so complicated

a paper, written in a form entirely unknown to the natives, and which

must naturally be expected to awaken their suspicion, would create,

and of the great improbability of its being signed while the Sultan

was pressed with a variety of business. On the way to the fáda we met

Áshu, the present serki-n-turáwa, a large-sized man, clad in an entirely

white dress, which may not improbably be a sign of his authority over

the white men (Turáwa). He is said to be a very wealthy man. He replied

to my compliments with much kindness, entered into conversation with me

about the difference of our country and theirs, and ordered one of his

companions to take me to a small garden which he had planted near his

house in the midst of the town, in order to see what plants we had in

common with them. Of course there was nothing like our plants; and my

cicerone conceived rather a poor idea of our country when he heard that

all the things which they had we had not—neither senna, nor bamia, nor

indigo, nor cotton, nor Guinea-corn, nor, in short, the most beautiful

of all trees of the creation, as he thought—the talha, or _Mimosa

ferruginea_; and he seemed rather incredulous when told that we had much

finer plants than they.

We then went to the fáda. The Sultan seemed quite ready for starting. He

was sitting in the courtyard of his palace, surrounded by a multitude

of people and camels, while the loud murmuring noise of a number of

schoolboys who were learning the Kurán proceeded from the opposite

corner, and prevented my hearing the conversation of the people. The

crowd and the open locality were, of course, not very favourable to my

last audience, and it was necessarily a cold one. Supported by Hámma, I

informed the Sultan that I expected still to receive a letter from him

to the Government under whose auspices I was travelling, expressive of

the pleasure and satisfaction he had felt in being honoured with a visit

from one of the mission, and that he would gladly grant protection to

any future traveller who should happen to visit his country. The Sultan

promised that such a letter should be written; however, the result proved

that either he had not quite understood what I meant, or, what is more

probable, that in his precarious situation he felt himself not justified

in writing to a Christian government, especially as he had received no

letter from it.

When I had returned to my quarters, Hámma brought me three letters, in

which ʿAbd el Káder recommended my person and my luggage to the care

of the Governors of Kanó, Kátsena, and Dáura, and which were written

in rather incorrect Arabic, and in nearly the same terms. They were as

follows:—

“In the name of God, etc.

“From the Emír of Ahír, ʿAbd el Káder, son of the Sultan

Mohammed el Bákeri, to the Emír of Dáura, son of the late Emír

of Dáura, Is-hhák. The mercy of God upon the eldest companions

of the Prophet, and His blessing upon the Khalífa; ‘Amín.’ The

most lasting blessing and the highest wellbeing to you without

end. I send this message to you with regard to a stranger, my

guest, of the name of ʿAbd el Kerím, who came to me, and is

going to the Emír el Mumenín [the Sultan of Sókoto], in order

that, when he proceeds to you, you may protect him and treat

him well, so that none of the freebooters and evil-doers may

hurt him or his property, but that he may reach the Emír el

Mumenín. Indeed, we wrote this on account of the freebooters,

in order that you may protect him against them in the most

efficacious manner. Farewell.”

These letters were all sealed with the seal of the Sultan.

Hámma showed me also another letter which he had received from the

Sultan, and which I think interesting enough to be here inserted, as

it is a faithful image of the turbulent state of the country at that

time, and as it contains the simple expression of the sincere and just

proceedings of the new Sultan. Its purport was as follows, though the

language in which it is written is so incorrect that several passages

admit of different interpretations:—

“In the name of God, etc.

“From the Commander, the faithful Minister of Justice, the

Sultan ʿAbd el Káder, son of the Sultan Mohammed el Bákeri, to

the chiefs of all the tribe of Eʾ Núr, and Hámed, and Sëis, and

all those among you who have large possessions, perfect peace

to you.

“Your eloquence, compliments, and information are deserving

of praise. We have seen the auxiliaries sent to us by your

tribe, and we have taken energetic measures with them against

the marauders, who obstruct the way of the caravans of devout

people, and the intercourse of those who travel, as well

as those who remain at home. On this account we desire to

receive aid from you against their incursions. The people of

the Kél-fadaye, they are the marauders. We should not have

prohibited their chiefs to exercise rule over them, except

for three things: first, because I am afraid they will betake

themselves from the Aníkel [the community of the people of Aír]

to the Awelímmiden; secondly, in order that they may not make

an alliance with them against us, for they are all marauders;

and thirdly, in order that you may approve of their paying us

the tribute. Come, then, to us quickly. You know that what

the hand holds it holds only with the aid of the fingers; for

without the fingers the hand can seize nothing.

“We therefore will expect your determination, that is to say

your coming, after the departure of the salt-caravan of the

Itísan, fixed among you for the fifteenth of the month. God!

God is merciful and answereth prayer! Come therefore to us, and

we will tuck up our sleeves, and drive away the marauders, and

fight valiantly against them as God (be He glorified!) hath

commanded.

“Lo, corruption hath multiplied on the face of the earth! May

the Lord not question us on account of the poor and needy,

orphans and widows, according to His word: ‘You are all

herdsmen, and ye shall all be questioned respecting your herds,

whether ye have indeed taken good care of them or dried them

up.’

“Delay not, therefore, but hasten to our residence, where

we are all assembled; for ‘zeal in the cause of religion is

the duty of all;’ or send thy messenger to us quickly with

a positive answer; send thy messenger as soon as possible.

Farewell!”

The whole population was in alarm, and everybody who was able to bear

arms prepared for the expedition. About sunset the “égehen” left the

town, numbering about four hundred men, partly on camels, partly on

horseback, besides the people on foot. Bóro as well as Áshu accompanied

the Sultan, who this time was himself mounted on a camel. They went to

take their encampment near that of Astáfidet, in Tagúrast, ʿAbd el Káder

pitching a tent of grey colour, and in size like that of a Turkish aghá,

in the midst of the Kél-gerés, the Kél-ferwán, and the Emgedesíye; while

Astáfidet, who had no tent, was surrounded by the Kél-owí. The Sultan was

kind and attentive enough not to forget me even now; and having heard

that I had not yet departed, Hámma not having finished his business in

the town, he sent me some wheat, a large botta with butter and vegetables

(chiefly melons and cucumbers), and the promise of another sheep.

In the evening the drummer again went his rounds through the town,

proclaiming the strict order of the Sultan that everybody should lay in a

large supply of provisions. Although the town in general had become very

silent when deserted by so many people, our house was kept in constant

bustle, and in the course of the night three mehára came from the camp,

with people who could get no supper there, and sought it with us. Bóro

sent a messenger to me early the next morning, urgently begging for

a little powder, as the “Mehárebín” of the Imghád had sent off their

camels and other property, and were determined to resist the army of the

Sultan. However, I could send him but very little. My amusing friend

Mohammed spent the whole day with us, when he went to join the ghazzia.

I afterwards learnt that he obtained four head of cattle as his share.

There must be considerable herds of cattle in the more favoured valleys

of Asben; for the expedition had nothing else to live upon, as Mohammed

afterwards informed me, and slaughtered an immense quantity of them.

Altogether, the expedition was successful, and the Fádë-ang and many

tribes of the Imghád lost almost all their property. Even the influential

Háj Beshír was punished, on account of his son having taken part in the

expedition against us. I received also the satisfactory information

that ʿAbd el Káder had taken nine camels from the man who retained my

méheri; but I gained nothing thereby, neither my own camel being returned

nor another given me in its stead. The case was the same with all our

things; but nevertheless the proceeding had a good effect, seeing that

people were punished expressly for having robbed Christians, and thus the

principle was established that it was not less illegal to rob Christians

than it was to rob Mohammedans, both creeds being placed, as far as

regards the obligations of peace and honesty, on equally favourable terms.

_Tuesday, October 22._—I spent the whole of Tuesday in my house,

principally in taking down information which I received from the

intelligent Ghadámsi merchant Mohammed, who, having left his native

town from fear of the Turks, had resided six years in Ágades, and was a

well-informed man.

_Wednesday, October 23._—My old friend the blacksmith Hámmeda, and

the tall Elíyas, went off this morning with several camels laden with

provisions, while Hámma still stayed behind to finish the purchases;

for on account of the expedition, and the insecure state of the road

to Damerghú, it had been difficult to procure provisions in sufficient

quantity. Our house therefore became almost as silent and desolate as

the rest of the town; but I found a great advantage in remaining a few

days longer, for my chivalrous friend and protector, who, as long as

the Sultan and the great men were present, had been very reserved and

cautious, had now no further scruple about taking me everywhere, and

showing me the town “within and without.”

[Illustration]

We first visited the house of Ídder, a broker, who lived at a short

distance to the south from our house, and had also lodged Háj ʿAbdúwa

during his stay here. It was a large, spacious dwelling, well arranged

with a view to comfort and privacy, according to the conception and

customs of the inhabitants, while our house (being a mere temporary

residence for Ánnur’s people occasionally visiting the town) was a dirty,

comfortless abode. We entered first a vestibule, about twenty-five

feet long and nine broad, having on each side a separate space marked

off by that low kind of balustrade mentioned in my description of the

Sultan’s house. This vestibule or ante-room was followed by a second

room of larger size and irregular arrangement; opposite the entrance

it opened into another apartment, which, with two doors, led into a

spacious inner courtyard, which was very irregularly circumscribed by

several rooms projecting into it, while to the left it was occupied by an

enormous bedstead (1). These bedsteads are a most characteristic article

of furniture in all the dwellings of the Sónghay. In Ágades they are

generally very solidly built of thick boards, and furnished with a strong

canopy resting upon four posts, covered with mats on the top and on three

sides, the remaining side being shut in with boards. Such a canopied bed

looks like a little house by itself. On the wall of the first chamber,

which on the right projected into the courtyard, several lines of large

pots had been arranged, one above the other (2), forming so many warm

nests for a number of turtle-doves which were playing all about the

courtyard; while on the left, in the half-decayed walls of two other

rooms (3), about a dozen goats were fastened each to a separate pole. The

background of the courtyard contained several rooms, and in front of it

a large shade (4) had been built of mats, forming a rather pleasant and

cool resting-place. Numbers of children were gambolling about, who gave

to the whole a very cheerful appearance. There is something very peculiar

in these houses, which are constructed evidently with a view to comfort

and quiet enjoyment.

We then went to visit a female friend of Hámma, who lived in the south

quarter of the town, in a house which likewise bespoke much comfort; but

here, on account of the number of inmates, the arrangement was different,

the second vestibule being furnished on each side with a large bedstead

instead of mats, though here also there was in the courtyard an immense

bedstead. The courtyard was comparatively small, and a long corridor on

the left of it led to an inner courtyard or “tsakangída,” which I was not

allowed to see. The mistress of the house was still a very comely person,

although she had borne several children. She had a fine figure, though

rather under the middle size, and a fair complexion. I may here remark

that many of the women of Ágades are not a shade darker than Arab women

in general. She wore a great quantity of silver ornaments, and was well

dressed in a gown of coloured cotton and silk. Hámma was very intimate

with her, and introduced me to her as his friend and _protégé_, whom she

ought to value as highly as himself. She was married, but her husband

was residing in Kátsena, and she did not seem to await his return in the

Penelopean style. The house had as many as twenty inmates, there being no

less than six children, I think, under five years of age, and among them

a very handsome little girl, the mother’s favourite; besides, there were

six or seven full-grown slaves. The children were all naked, but wore

ornaments of beads and silver.

After we had taken leave of this Emgedesíye lady, we followed the street

towards the south, where there were some very good houses, although

the quarter in general was in ruins; and here I saw the very best and

most comfortable-looking dwelling in the town. All the pinnacles were

ornamented with ostrich eggs. One will often find in an eastern town,

after the first impression of its desolate appearance is gone by, many

proofs that the period of its utter prostration is not yet come, but

that even in the midst of the ruins there is still a good deal of ease

and comfort. Among the ruins of the southern quarter are to be seen the

pinnacled walls of a building of immense circumference and considerable

elevation; but unfortunately I could not learn from Hámma for what

purpose it had been used; however, it was certainly a public building,

and probably a large khán rather than the residence of the chief. With

its high, towering walls, it still forms a sort of outwork on the south

side of the town, where in general the wall is entirely destroyed, and

the way is everywhere open. Hámma had a great prejudice against this

desolate quarter. Even the more intelligent Mohammedans are often afraid

to enter former dwelling-places of men, believing them to be haunted by

spirits; but he took me to some inhabited houses, which were all built

on the same principle as that described, but varying greatly in depth

and in the size of the courtyard; the staircases (abi-n-háwa) leading

to the upper story are in the courtyard, and are rather irregularly

built of stones and clay. In some of them young ostriches were running

about. The inhabitants of all the houses seemed to have the same cheerful

disposition, and I was glad to find scarcely a single instance of misery.

I give here the ground-plan of another house.

[Illustration]

The artisans who work in leather (an occupation left entirely to females)

seem to live in a quarter by themselves, which originally was quite

separated from the rest of the town by a sort of gate; but I did not

make a sufficient survey of this quarter to mark it distinctly on the

ground-plan of the town. We also visited some of the mat-makers.

Our maimólo of the other day, who had discovered that we had slaughtered

our sheep, paid us a visit in the evening, and for a piece of meat

entertained me with a clever performance on his instrument, accompanied

with a song. Hámma spent his evening with our friend the Emgedesíye lady,

and was kind enough to beg me to accompany him. This I declined, but gave

him a small present to take to her.

I had a fair sample of the state of morals in Ágades the following day,

when five or six girls and women came to pay me a visit in our house,

and with much simplicity invited me to make merry with them, there being

now, as they said, no longer reason for reserve, “as the Sultan was

gone.” It was indeed rather amusing to see what conclusions they drew

from the motto “Serki yátafi.” Two of them were tolerably pretty and

well-formed, with fine black hair hanging down in plaits or tresses,

lively eyes, and very fair complexion. Their dress was decent, and that

of one of them even elegant, consisting of an under-gown reaching from

the neck to the ankles, and an upper one drawn over the head, both of

white colour; but their demeanour was very free, and I too clearly

understood the caution requisite in a European who would pass through

these countries unharmed and respected by the natives, to allow myself to

be tempted by these wantons. It would be better for a traveller in these

regions, both for his own comfort and for the respect felt for him by the

natives, if he could take his wife with him; for these simple people do

not understand how a man can live without a partner. The Western Tuarek,

who in general are very rigorous in their manners, and quite unlike the

Kél-owí, had nothing to object against me except my being a bachelor.

But as it is difficult to find a female companion for such journeys,

and as by marrying a native he would expose himself to much trouble and

inconvenience on the score of religion, he will do best to maintain the

greatest austerity of manners with regard to the other sex, though he

may thereby expose himself to a good deal of derision from some of the

lighter-hearted natives. The ladies, however, became so troublesome

that I thought it best to remain at home for a few days, and was thus

enabled at the same time to note down the information which I had been

able to pick up. During these occupations I was greatly pleased with the

companionship of a diminutive species of finches which frequent all the

rooms in Ágades, and, as I may add from later experience, in Timbúktu

also; the male, with its red neck, in particular looks extremely pretty.

The poults were just about to fledge.

_Sunday, October 27._—There was one very characteristic building in the

town, which, though a most conspicuous object from the terrace of our

house, I had never yet investigated with sufficient accuracy. This was

the mesállaje, or high tower rising over the roof of the mosque. The

reason why this building in particular (the most famous and remarkable

one in the town) had been hitherto observed by me only from a distance,

and in passing by, must be obvious. Difference of religious creed

repelled me from it; and so long as the town was full of strangers,

some of them very fanatical, it was dangerous for me to approach it too

closely. I had often inquired whether it would not be possible to ascend

the tower without entering the mosque; but I had always received for

answer that the entrance was locked up. As soon, however, as the Sultan

was gone, and when the town became rather quiet, I urged Hámma to do his

best that I might ascend to the top of this curious building, which I

represented to him as a matter of the utmost importance to me, since it

would enable me not only to control my route by taking a few angles of

the principal elevations round the valley Aúderas, but also to obtain a

distant view over the country towards the west and south, which it was

not my good luck to visit myself. To-day Hámma promised me that he would

try what could be done.

[Illustration]

Having once more visited the lively house of Ídder, we took our way over

the market-places, which were now rather dull. The vultures looked out

with visible greediness and eagerness from the pinnacles of the ruined

walls around for their wonted food—their share of offal during these

days, when so many people were absent, being of course much reduced,

though some of them probably had followed their fellow-citizens on the

expedition. So few people being in the streets, the town had a more

ruined look than ever, and the large heap of rubbish accumulated on the

south side of the butchers’ market seemed to me more disgusting than

before. We kept along the principal street between Dígi and Arrafíya,

passing the deep well Shedwánka on our right, and on the other side a

school, which resounded with the shrill voices of about fifty little

boys repeating with energy and enthusiasm the verses of the Kurán, which

their master had written for them upon their little wooden tablets.

Having reached the open space in front of the mosque, and there being

nobody to disturb me, I could view at my leisure this simple but curious

building, which in the subsequent course of my journey became still more

interesting to me, as I saw plainly that it was built on exactly the

same principle as the tower which rises over the sepulchre of the famed

conqueror Háj Mohammed Áskiá (the “Ischia” of Leo).

The mesállaje starts up from the platform or terrace formed by the roof

of the mosque, which is extremely low, resting apparently, as we shall

see, in its interior, upon four massive pillars. It is square, and

measures at its base about thirty feet, having a small lean-to, on its

east side, on the terrace of the mosque, where most probably there was

formerly the entrance. From this the tower rises (decreasing in width,

and with a sort of swelling or entasis in the middle of its elevation,

something like the beautiful model adopted by nature in the deléb palm,

and imitated by architects in the columns of the Ionic and Corinthian

orders) to a height of from ninety to ninety-five feet. It measures

at its summit not more than about eight feet in width. The interior

is lighted by seven openings on each side. Like most of the houses in

Ágades, it is built entirely of clay; and in order to strengthen a

building so lofty and of so soft a material, its four walls are united by

thirteen layers of boards of the dúm-tree, crossing the whole tower in

its entire breadth and width, and coming out on each side from three to

four feet, while at the same time they afford the only means of getting

to the top. Its purpose is to serve as a watch-tower, or at least was so

at a former time, when the town, surrounded by a strong wall and supplied

with water, was well capable of making resistance, if warned in due time

of an approaching danger. But at present it seems rather to be kept in

repair only as a decoration of the town.

The mesállaje in its present state was only six years old at the time

of my visit (in 1850), and perhaps was not even quite finished in the

interior, as I was told that the layers of boards were originally

intended to support a staircase of clay. About fifty paces from the

south-western corner of the mosque, the ruins of an older tower are seen

still rising to a considerable height, though leaning much to one side,

more so than the celebrated Tower of Pisa, and most probably in a few

years it will give way to an attack of storm and rain. This more ancient

tower seems to have stood quite detached from the mosque.

Having sufficiently surveyed the exterior of the tower, and made a sketch

of it, I accompanied my impatient companion into the interior of the

mosque, into which he felt no scruple in conducting me. The lowness of

the structure had already surprised me from without; but I was still

more astonished when I entered the interior, and saw that it consisted

of low, narrow naves, divided by pillars of immense thickness, the

reason of which it is not possible at present to understand, as they

have nothing to support but a roof of dúm-tree boards, mats, and a layer

of clay; but I think it scarcely doubtful that originally these naves

were but the vaults or cellars of a grand superstructure, designed but

not executed; and this conjecture seems to be confirmed by all that at

present remains of the mosque. The gloomy halls were buried in a mournful

silence, interrupted only by the voice of a solitary man, seated on a

dirty mat at the western wall of the tower, and reading diligently the

torn leaves of a manuscript. Seeing that it was the kádhi, we went

up to him and saluted him most respectfully; but it was not in the

most cheerful and amiable way that he received our compliments—mine

in particular—continuing to read, and scarcely raising his eyes from

the sheets before him. Hámma then asked for permission to ascend the

tower, but received a plain and unmistakable refusal, the thing being

impossible, there being no entrance to the tower at present. It was shut

up, he said, on account of the Kél-gerés, who used to ascend the tower

in great numbers. Displeased with his uncourteous behaviour, and seeing

that he was determined not to permit me to climb the tower, were it ever

so feasible, we withdrew and called upon the imám, who lives in a house

attached to these vaults, and which looked a little neater from having

been whitewashed; however, he had no power to aid us in our purpose, but

rather confirmed the statement of the kádhi. This is the principal mosque

of the town, and seems to have been always so, although there are said to

have been formerly as many as seventy mosques, of which ten are still in

use. They deserve no mention, however, with the exception of three, the

Msíd Míli, Msíd Éheni, and Msíd el Mékki. I will only add here that the

Emgedesíye, so far as their very slender stock of theological learning

and doctrine entitles them to rank with any sect, are Malekíye, as well

as the Kél-owí.

Resigning myself to the disappointment of not being able to ascend the

tower, I persuaded my friend to take a longer walk with me round the

northern quarter of the town. But I forgot to mention that besides

Hámma, I had another companion of a very different character. This was

Zúmmuzuk, a reprobate of the worst description, and whose features bore

distinct impress of the vile and brutal passions which actuated him;

yet being a clever fellow, and (as the illegitimate son, or “dan néma,”

of an Emgédesi woman) fully master of the peculiar idiom of Ágades,

he was tolerated not only by the old chief Ánnur, who employed him as

interpreter, but even by me. How insolent the knave could be I shall soon

have occasion to mention. With this fellow, therefore, and with Hámma, I

continued my walk, passing the kófa-n-alkáli, and then, from the ruins of

the quarter Ben-Gottára, turning to the north. Here the wall of the town

is in a tolerable state of preservation, but very weak and insufficient,

though it is kept in repair, even to the pinnacles, on account of its

surrounding the palace of the Sultan. Not far from this is an open space

called Azarmádarangh, “the place of execution,” where occasionally the

head of a rebellious chieftain or a murderer is cut off by the “dóka;”

but as far as I could learn, such things happen very seldom. Even on the

north side, two gates are in a tolerable state of preservation.

Having entered the town from this side, we went to visit the quarter of

the leather-workers, which, as I stated before, seems to have formed

originally a regular ward; all this handicraft, with the exception of

saddle-work, is carried on by women, who work with great neatness. Very

beautiful provision-bags are made here, although those which I brought

back from Timbúktu are much handsomer. We saw also some fine specimens of

mats, woven of a very soft kind of grass, and dyed of various colours.

Unfortunately, I had but little with me wherewith to buy; and even if I

had been able to make purchases, the destination of our journey being so

distant, there was not much hope of carrying the things safely to Europe.

The blacksmiths’ work of Ágades is also interesting, although showy and

barbarous, and not unlike the work with which the Spaniards used to adorn

their long daggers.

_Monday, October 28._—During all this time I prosecuted inquiries with

regard to several subjects connected with the geography and ethnography

of this quarter of the world. I received several visits from Emgédesi

tradesmen, many of whom are established in the northern provinces of

Háusa, chiefly in Kátsena and Tasáwa, where living is infinitely cheaper

than in Ágades. All these I found to be intelligent men, having been

brought up in the centre of intercourse between a variety of tribes and

nations of the most different organization, and, through the web of

routes which join here, receiving information of distant regions. Several

of them had even made the pilgrimage, and thus come in contact with

the relatively high state of civilization in Egypt and near the coast;

and I shall not easily forget the enlightened view which the mʿallem

Háj Mohammed ʿOmár, who visited me several times, took of Islamism and

Christianity. The last day of my stay in Ágades, he reverted to the

subject of religion, and asked me, in a manner fully expressive of his

astonishment, how it came to pass that the Christians and Moslemín were

so fiercely opposed to one another, although their creeds, in essential

principles, approximated so closely. To this I replied by saying that I

thought the reason was that the great majority both of Christians and

Moslemín paid less regard to the dogmas of their creeds than to external

matters, which have very little or no reference to religion itself. I

also tried to explain to him that in the time of Mohammed Christianity

had entirely lost that purity which was its original character, and that

it had been mixed up with many idolatrous elements, from which it was not

entirely disengaged till a few centuries ago, while the Mohammedans had

scarcely any acquaintance with Christians except those of the old sects

of the Jacobites and Nestorians. Mutually pleased with our conversation,

we parted from each other with regret.

In the afternoon I was agreeably surprised by the arrival of the Tinýlkum

Ibrahim, for the purpose of supplying his brother’s house with what was

wanted; and being determined to make only one day’s stay in the town, he

had learned with pleasure that we were about to return by way of Áfasás,

the village whither he himself was going. I myself had cherished this

hope, as all the people had represented that place as one of the largest

in the country, and as pleasantly situated. Hámma had promised to take me

this way on our return to Tin-téllust; but having stayed so much longer

in the town than he had intended, and being afraid of arriving too late

for the salt-caravan of the Kél-owí on their way to Bilma, which he was

to supply with provisions, he changed his plan, and determined to return

by the shortest road. Meanwhile he informed me that the old chief would

certainly not go with us to Zínder till the salt-caravan had returned

from Bilma.

Fortunately, in the course of the 29th a small caravan with corn arrived

from Damerghú, and Hámma completed his purchases. He had, however, first

to settle a disagreeable affair; for our friend Zúmmuzuk had bought, in

Hámma’s name, several things for which payment was now demanded. Hámma

flew into a terrible rage, and nearly finished the rogue. My Arab and

Tawáti friends, who heard that we were to start the following day, though

they were rather busy buying corn, came to take leave of me, and I was

glad to part from all of them in friendship. But before bidding farewell

to this interesting place, I shall make a few general observations on its

history.