[Illustration: JAMES RICHARDSON ESQ^R.
_In the Ghadamsee Costume._
ENGRAVED BY GEORGE COOK FROM THE ORIGINAL DRAWING.
London: Richard Bentley, 1848.]
TRAVELS
IN
THE GREAT DESERT
OF SAHARA,
IN THE YEARS OF 1845 AND 1846.
CONTAINING
A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL ADVENTURES, DURING A TOUR OF NINE
MONTHS THROUGH THE DESERT, AMONGST THE TOUARICKS
AND OTHER TRIBES OF SAHARAN PEOPLE;
INCLUDING A DESCRIPTION OF
THE OASES AND CITIES OF GHAT, GHADAMES,
AND MOURZUK.
BY JAMES RICHARDSON.
Φωνὴ βοῶντος ἐν τῇ ἐρήμῳ.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET,
Publisher in Ordinary to Her Majesty.
M.D.CCC.XLVIII.
LONDON
HARRISON AND CO., PRINTERS,
ST. MARTIN'S LANE.
[Illustration: MAP _ILLUSTRATING_ THE TRAVELS AND RESEARCHES _OF
JAMES RICHARDSON IN_ THE GREAT DESERT OF SAHARA _BY_ JAMES WYLD
_GEOGRAPHER TO THE QUEEN London, Richard Bentley, New Burlington Street,
1848._ ENGRAVED BY J. WYLD, CHARING CROSS EAST]
INTRODUCTION.
THE sentiment of Antiquity--that "The life of no man is pleasing to the
gods which is not useful to his fellows,"--has been my guiding principle
of action during the last twelve years of my life. To live for my own
simple and sole gratification, to have no other object in view but my own
personal profit and renown, would be to me an intolerable existence. To
be useful, or to attempt to be useful, in my day and generation, was the
predominant motive which led me into The Desert, and sustained me there,
alone and unprotected, during a long and perilous journey.
But, in presenting this work to the British public, I have to state, that
it is only _supplementary_ and _fragmentary_. If, therefore, any one were
to judge of the results of my Saharan Tour merely by what is here given,
he would do me a great injustice. I had expected, by this time, that
certain Reports on the Commerce and Geography of The Great Desert, as
well as a large Map of the Routes of this part of Africa, would have been
given to the public. It is not my fault that their publication is still
delayed. I can only regret it, because what I am now publishing comes
_first_, instead of _last_, and consequently deranges my plan, the
following pages being, indeed, _supplementary_ to the Reports and Map. I
come, therefore, before the public with no small disadvantage.
With regard to these supplementary and fragmentary extracts from my
journal, I have also to state, they consist only of about two-thirds of
the journal. For the present, I deemed it prudent to suppress the rest.
But this likewise may disturb the harmony and mar the completeness of the
work. However, if these portions of the journal are favourably received,
other extracts may yet be published.
On entering The Desert, my principal object was to ascertain how and to
what extent the Saharan Slave-Trade was carried on; although but a
comparatively small portion of the following pages is devoted to this
subject. I have already reported fully on this traffic, and it was
unnecessary to go over the ground again, which might defeat, by
disagreeable repetitions and endless details, the object which I have in
view,--that of exciting an abhorrence of the Slave-Trade in the hearts of
my fellow countrymen and countrywomen.
In these published extracts from my journal, I have endeavoured to give a
truthful and faithful picture of the Saharan Tribes; their ideas,
thoughts, words, and actions; and, where convenient, I have allowed them
to speak and act for themselves. This is the main object which I have
undertaken to accomplish in this Narrative of my Personal Adventures in
The Sahara. The public must, and will, I doubt not, judge how far I have
succeeded, and award me praise or blame, as may be my desert. If I have
failed, I shall not abandon myself to despair, but shall console myself
with the thought that I have done the best I was able to do under actual
circumstances, and in my then state of health. It would, indeed, ill
become me to shrink from public criticism, after having braved the
terrors and hardships of The Desert. However, the publication of this
journal may induce others to penetrate The Desert,--persons better
qualified, and more ably and perfectly equipped than myself, and who may
so accomplish something more permanently advantageous than what I have
been able to compass. Acting, then, as pioneer to others, my Saharan
labours will not be fruitless.
But, if any persons obstinately object to the style and matters of my
Narrative of Desert Travel, I shall likewise as obstinately endeavour to
hold my ground. To all such I say,--"Go to now, ye objectors and
gainsayers, and do better." My mission was _motu proprio_, and I plunged
in The Desert without your permission. But I am but one of the two
hundred millions of Europe. You can surely get volunteers. You have the
money, the rank, the patronage, and the learned and philanthropic
Societies of Europe at your back. Send others; inspire them yourselves,
and they may produce something which you like better than what I have
given you. If I am not orthodox enough,--if I have not reviled the Deism
of The Desert sufficiently to your taste,--send those who will. A little
less zeal in Exeter Hall, and a little more in The Desert, would do
neither you nor the world any harm. A little less clamour about Church
orthodoxy, or any other doxy[1], and a little more anxiety for the
welfare of all mankind, would infinitely more become you, as Englishmen
and Christians, and be more in harmony with that divine injunction, which
sent out the first teachers of Christianity amongst the Greeks and
Barbarians, in The City and The Desert, to preach the Gospel to every
creature under heaven. If I be too much of an abolitionist, send one who
admires slavery, and who will write up the Slave-Trade of The Desert. I
have written in my way: you write in your way. If my pages disclose no
discoveries in science, this I can only lament. When a man has no science
in him, or no education in science, he can give you none. But what are
your European Societies of Science for? Are they play-things, or are they
serious affairs? Have you neither money nor zeal to equip a scientific
expedition to The Desert? If not, I cannot help you. By the way, I was
astonished to receive, since my return, a note from one of your eminent
geologists, repudiating and protesting against all knowledge of the
subject of "The Geology of The Desert." And The Desert is a fifth part of
the African Continent! Yet this gentleman dogmatizes and theorizes on
all geological formations, and can tell the whole history of the geology
of our planet, from the first moment when it was bowled by the hand of
The Omnipotent in the immensity of space, of suns and systems! If such
presumption and self-willed ignorance discover themselves in great men,
what are we to expect of little men?
In the following pages, I have encroached upon my Reports, to describe
several of the Oases of The Desert, besides giving as much of the routes
as was necessary to render the Narrative of my journey intelligible. But
this is all I could conscientiously do. For the rest of the geographical
information, the public must wait.
I return for a moment to the traffic in slaves. Born with an innate
hatred of oppression, whatever form, or shape, or name it may take, and
under what modes soever it may be developed, mentally or bodily, in
chaining men down under a political despotism, or in forging for them a
creed and forcing it on their consciences,--I have, since I could
exercise the power of reflection, always looked upon the traffic in human
flesh and blood as the most gigantic system of wickedness the world ever
saw; and which I most deplore, in this our late, more humane and
enlightened age, stands forth and raises its horrid head, impiously
defying Heaven! In very truth, it is a system of crime, which dares
"Defy the Omnipotent to arms!"
The reader must, therefore, excuse the language with which I have
execrated this traffic in the pages of my Journal. There may be some men
who think it no crime to buy and sell their fellow-men; I have seen many
such amongst the Moslems. But he who thinks the traffic in slaves to be a
crime against the human race, has a right to denounce it accordingly. I
must therefore make a few preliminary observations, though painful to my
feelings.
It is notorious that the agitations of the Anti-Corn-Law League have
given very lately a powerful impulse to the Slave-Trade, and slaves have
risen in Cuba to 30 and 50 per cent. above their previous average value,
since _slave_ sugar has been admitted upon the same terms, or nearly so,
as _free-labour_ sugar, into England. This is entirely the work of The
League. Some of these gentlemen think we must have cheap sugar at any
risk, at any cost, even if wetted with the blood of the slaves. A
ridiculous incident occurs to me. I once saw a child frightened into a
dislike for white loaf sugar, by holding up a piece to the candle, and
pretending it dropped blood. But there is no delusion or metaphor here,
for the sugars of slave-plantations are really obtained by the
blood-whippings and scourgings of the victimized slaves!
As to Cobden, his Cobdenites, and Satellites, they would sell their own
souls, and the whole human race into bondage, to have a free trade in
slaves and sugar. This new generation of impostors--who teach that all
virtue and happiness consist in buying in the cheapest, and selling in
the dearest markets--are now dogging at the heels of Government, in
combination with the West India agents, to get them to re-establish a
species of mitigated Slave-Trade, because, forsooth, there should be
right and liberty to buy and sell a man, as there is right and liberty to
buy and sell a beast.
I am not an enemy to Free Trade. I have duly noticed and praised the
free-trade mart of Ghat, and shown how it prospers in comparison with the
restricted system of the Turks, prevalent at Mourzuk. But this I do say,
the case of Slavery was an exceptional case, as the Ten Hours' Factory
Bill was an exceptional case in the regulation and restriction of labour.
I fear, however, there are some of the Leaguers so outrageous in their
advocacy of abstract principles, that they would have a free-trade in
vice--a free-trade in consigning people to perdition! They are of the
calibre of the men who wielded that dread engine of the "Reign of
Terror," the "Committee of Public Safety," and made it death to speak a
word against the "One Indivisible Republic[2]." These Leaguers are bent
upon establishing an equal, although differently-formed, tyranny amongst
us, and we cannot too soon and too energetically resist their odious and
intolerable pretensions.
But I know not, whether these civil tyrants be so bad as the spiritual
tyrants who have just set up for themselves what they call a "Free Kirk."
These reverend gentlemen have received the fruits of the blood of the
slaves, employed on the laborious fields of the Southern States of
America, to build up their new Free Church, pretending they have a
Divine right to receive the value of the forced-labour of slaves, and
quoting Scripture like the Devil himself. When called upon to refund they
refuse, and make the contributions of the Presbyterian slave-dealers of
the United States a sort of corner-stone of their Free Kirk. Why these
priests of religion out-O'Connell-O'Connell, who point-blank refused, for
the support of his sham Repeal, and sent back contemptuously, the dollars
spotted and tainted with the blood of the slaves! . . . . . . . . It is
the old story, the old trick of our good friends, the Scottish divines,
and their old leaven of Scottish fanaticism. We know them of ancient
date. We have read a line of Milton, who in his time so admirably
resisted their bigotry. It is immortal like all that our divine bard
wrote. Here is the line--
"New Presbyter is but old Priest writ large."
The Free Kirk has cut its connexion with the State, because it says the
State wishes to enslave its ministers. Yet it has no objection to receive
monies from the slave-holders in America. The Free Kirk will build up its
boasted freedom on the wasting blood and bones of the unhappy children of
Africa! Why, indeed, should these Scottish divines, headed by the
Presbyters Candlish and Cunningham, seek or advocate the freedom of the
slaves held by their fellow Presbyters of the United States? Is it not
enough that they seek and maintain their own freedom, and at whatsoever
cost? Have they not received the pro-slavery mantle of the late
venerated Dr. Chalmers, and can they, poor pigmies, possibly shake it
off? Would it not be impious to do so? No, they cannot,--dare not do
this. For, as it was said by Lord George Bentinck, of a quondam champion
of the people, in the last Session of Parliament, "Liberty is on their
tongues, but despotism is in their hearts."
What can be more humiliating to a generous and tolerant mind, than to see
a body of Christian ministers struggling to obtain by a Parliamentary
enactment, the cession of plots of land for building of churches for the
worship of God in liberty and truth, from the tyrannical holders of the
soil; and, at the same time, this very body of priests does not scruple
to receive the money of American slave-holders, to build and endow these
self-same churches? Such incredible inconsistency makes one sick at
heart, and inclined to question the existence of Christian feelings in
the professors and teachers of Christianity!
It is deeply to be deplored that our Anti-Slavery Society confines itself
so much to protests, and what it calls "the moral principle." No people
of the world has done more for the liberties of Africa than the Society
of Friends in England, and no people more admirably exemplify in their
conduct the humane and pacific morals of Christianity. But when the
Founder of our religion resisted his enemies by the remonstrance, "Why
strikest thou me?" something more was meant than a protest. We have had
lately a _triste_ example of the end of protests in a neighbouring
country. The annual protest of the French Chamber of Deputies against
the extinction of the nationality of Poland, not only ended in barren
results, and excited public ridicule, but actually terminated in the
triumph of the nefarious scheme against which it was made. Never was a
country so humiliated as France in this case!--Its Chief, the Sovereign
of its choice, consenting at the time, to the damning act of the
extinction of Polish nationality, for the sake of accomplishing a low and
scandalous family intrigue in Spain! This was something more than
ridiculous, and is one of the many infamies of our age, perpetrated on so
large a scale. Now, I do not assert, that the protests of the
Anti-Slavery Society will end in the re-enactment of the Slave-Trade by
the British Parliament. But the last and present Sessions of Imperial
Parliament, show symptoms of our country abandoning Africa, after the
labours of half a century, to all the horrors of the Slave-Trade. Mr. P.
Borthwick and Mr. Hume, more especially the latter, pleaded, in
conjunction with others, during last Session, for the withdrawal of the
British cruisers from off the Western Coast of Africa, and free trade in
emigration, if not in slaves. In this good work, of course, they have the
sympathies of the Anti-Slavery Free Trading League. Some of our journals
opine, in their late articles, that a change has come over the spirit of
our abolition dream, and suggest that the clerk, in charge of the
Anti-Slavery Papers at the Foreign Office, is an old antiquated,
superannuated being. In a word, these journals and Mr. Hume's pro-slavery
clique, see no reason why Great Britain should not exhibit to this and
succeeding ages, the most dreadful bad faith in the case of British
abolition. They would have us say to the world:--"All our Anti-Slavery
efforts, our Parliamentary enactments against Slavery, our huge blue
books of published Anti-Slavery papers, our protocols and treaties with
Foreign Powers, all, each, and singular, are one grand organized system
of selfishness and hypocrisy." I know very well that, in general,
foreigners give us no credit whatever for our anti-slavery feelings and
public acts for the suppression of the Slave-Trade. This they have
reiterated in my ears. And, how can they give us credit for sincerity in
abolition, when our public men and public writers call for something like
the re-enactment of the British Slave-Trade?--and, whilst our quondam
champions of Free Churches receive the blood-stained money of
slave-labour to build up their new ecclesiastical establishments? Mankind
reason from actions, and not from verbal or written declarations. Our Act
of Abolition, and the famous twenty millions, are not such wonderful
things after all, when we owed a hundred millions to the descendants of
our slaves. We were also nearly half a century in abolishing the traffic,
after it had been denounced as robbery and murder by our highest and
greatest statesmen, Pitt and Fox[3]. This slowness of our work has given
the cue to the suspicions of our national enemies; and, certainly, to
use a gross vulgarism, has "taken out the shine," or very much dimmed the
lustre of this great act of justice to the African race.
Here I cannot restrain myself from giving a word of caution to the
working-classes of our country, to those more especially who head the new
"National Society," and form other and similar leagues. You say the
politicians of the Anti-Corn Law League are your men; you adore your
Humes, and Duncombes, and Wakleys. You, English democrats, or reformers,
as you may call yourselves, admire the self-government and cheap
government of the Transatlantic Model Republic. You do well. But now read
some of their latest handiworks, without note or comment on my part. The
violent impulse given to the Slave-Trade in Cuba and the Brazils--the
advocacy of a free trade in Slaves by the Leaguers in and out the British
Parliament--the invasion and subjugation of Mexico, on the joint
principles of lust of conquest and the extension of Slavery. Deny these
facts if you can. Learn, then, to think, there may be democracy and
republicanism without liberty or freedom.
I pray God, that the protests and public appeals and remonstrances to
Government of the Anti-Slavery Society may not end in barren results. But
if the Leaguers and Democrats have their own way, its voice, though just
and righteous, will be at length reduced to a faint cry, a last shriek of
despair--overwhelmed by the loud laughs and jeers of the fiends, which
possess the dealers in human flesh and blood, and surround unhappy and
doomed Africa with a cordon of rapine and murder, of blood and flames!
"Where the vultures and vampires of Mammon resort,
Where Columbia exulting drains
Her life-blood from Africa's veins,
Where the image of God is accounted as base,
And the image of Cæsar set up in its place."
If I were asked, "What can be done for Africa?" I should reply with no
new thing, no nostrums of my own concocting, but what has been reiterated
again and again. Teach her children to till the soil--to cultivate
available exports by which they may obtain in exchange, through the
medium of a legitimate commerce, the European products and manufactures
necessary for their use and enjoyment. Until this be done, nothing
effectual will be done. In vain you send missionaries of religion, or
agents of abolition; in vain you contract treaties with the Princes of
Africa. It is humiliating to think, equally a disgrace to our religion as
to our civilization, that our connexion with Africa has only served to
plunge her into deeper misery and profounder degradation. With truth we
here may apply the strong censure of a Chinese Emperor, "That the march
of Christians is whitened with human bones." Wherever we have touched her
western shores there our footsteps have been marked with blood and
devastation. We have fostered and encouraged within the heart of Africa
the most odious and unnatural passions. We have stimulated the prince to
sell his subjects, the father to sell his child, the brother to sell the
sister, the husband the wife, into thrice-accursed and again accursed
slavery! We have done all and more than this, whilst we have convulsed
every state and kingdom of Africa with war, for the supply of cargoes of
human beings. And for what? To cultivate our miserable cotton and sugar
plantations! These are the doctrines of mercy and charity which we have
taught the poor untutored children of Africa. Happy for poor forlorn,
dusky, naked Africa, had she never seen the pale visage or met the
Satanic brow of the European Christian! Does any man in his senses, who
believes in God and Providence, think that the wrongs of Africa will go
on for ever unavenged? Already, has not Providence avenged the wrongs of
Africa upon Spain and Portugal, by reducing their national character and
consideration to the lowest in the European family of nations? And as to
the United States of America, has not the boasted liberty of our
Republican countrymen, who colonized America, become a by-word, a
hissing, and a scorn, amongst the nations of the earth? Have not these
slave-holding Americans committed acts, nationally, within the last few
years, which the most absolute Governments of Europe would blush to be
guilty of? And what is one of their last acts, on a smaller scale, but
not less decisively indicative of their national morality? The New York
Bible Society has declared that it will not give the Bible to slaves,
even when they are able to read the Bible! Would the Czar of Russia
permit such an impious rule as this to be made by his nobles for their
slaves or serfs? Such an action would render the liberties of a thousand
republics a mockery, a snare, and a delusion, and their names infamous
throughout the world.
And the time of us Englishmen will come next--our day of infamy! unless
we show ourselves worthy that transcendant position in which Providence
has placed us, at the pinnacle of the empires of Earth, as the leaders
and champions of universal freedom.
In noticing the efforts made for raising Africa from her immemorial
degradation, we are bound to confess our obligations to the Mahometans
for what they have done. If they have extirpated Christianity from the
soil of North Africa, and planted, instead of this tree of fair and pure
fruit, the more glaring and showy plant of Islamism, they have, at the
same time, endeavoured to raise Africa to their own level of
demi-civilization. Whilst we condemn their slave-traffic as we condemn
our own, we must do justice to the efforts which they have made, by the
spread of their creed and the diffusion of their commerce, during a
series of ten or twelve centuries, for promoting the civilization of
Africa. They have succeeded, they have done infinitely more for Africa
than we ourselves. They have organized and established regular
governments through all Central Africa, and inculcated a taste for the
occupation and the principles of commerce. A great portion of this
internal trade is untainted by slavery. Bornou, Soudan, Timbuctoo, and
Jinnee, exhibit to us groups of immense and populous cities, all
regularly governed and trading with one another. They have abolished
human sacrifice, which lingers in our East India possessions to this day.
They have regulated marriage and restrained polygamy. They have made
honour and reverence to be paid to grey hairs, superseding the diabolical
custom of exposing or destroying the aged. They have introduced a
knowledge of reading and writing. The oases of Ghat and Ghadames furnish
more children, in proportion, who can read and write, than any of our
English towns. The Koran is transcribed in beautiful characters by Negro
Talebs on the banks of the Niger. The Moors have likewise introduced many
common useful trades into Central Africa. But above all, the Mohammedans
have introduced the knowledge of the one true God! and destroyed the
fetisch idols. Let us then take care how we arrogate to ourselves the
right and fact of civilizing the world. Nay, there cannot be a question,
if we would abandon Africa to the Mohammedans, and leave off our
man-stealing trade and practices on the Western Coast, the dusky children
of the torrid zones would gradually advance in civilization. But is not
the bare idea of such an alternative an indelible disgrace to
Christendom?
Mr. Cooley, in his learned work, entitled "The Negroland of the
Arabs[4]," seems to doubt if the Slave-Trade can be abolished or
civilization advanced, in Central Africa, because of the neighbourhood of
The Desert. This, however, is transferring the guilt of slavery and of
voluntary barbarism, if barbarism can be crime, from the volition of
responsible man to a great natural fact, or circumstance of creation--The
Desert; and is a style of observation perfectly indefensible, as well as
contrary to philosophy and facts. First, we cannot limit the stretch or
progress of the Negro mind any more than that of the European intellect.
Mr. Cooley himself admits that the Nigritian people have advanced in
civilization. And if they have advanced, why not continue to advance? But
so far contrary are facts to Mr. Cooley's theory, that The Desert,
instead of being an obstacle to civilization, is favourable to it, whilst
the Nigritian countries beyond the influence of The Desert are plunged
into deeper barbarism. The reader will only have to compare my account of
the Touaricks, with the recently published account of the social state of
the kingdom of Dahomy, to convince himself how completely fallacious in
application is Mr. Cooley's theory[5]. Slaves, too, abound in thickly
populated countries as well as desert countries: witness China and India.
The Sahara, also, has its paradisical spots, or oases of enjoyment, as
well as its wastes and hardships. It is likewise, not true, that the
Saharan tribes depend for their happiness on the possession of slaves, or
that life in The Desert is galling and insupportable. Many a happy oasis
is without a slave. However this may be, it is always an extremely
dangerous line of argument, to represent moral depravity as springing
necessarily from certain physical and unalterable circumstances of
creation. Finally, to represent The Great Desert as the buttress of the
Slave-Trade, is contrary to all our experience. In deserts and mountains
we find always the free-men: in soft and luxurious countries we find the
slaves. It is not the free-born Touarick who is the slave-dealer, or the
stimulator of the slave-traffic, but the Moorish merchant, and the
voluptuary on the coast who sends him. All that the Saharan tribes do, is
to escort the merchants over The Desert; and they would still escort them
over The Desert did they not deal in slaves, carrying on only legitimate
commerce.
I may conclude by a word on Discoveries in The Sahara. It is now twenty
years or more since The Sahara was explored, or before my present
hap-hazard tour. From what I have seen since my return, and the little
encouragement given to this sort of enterprise,--the public of Great
Britain being so much occupied with railways, free-trade, and currency
questions, educational schemes, and State endowed, or voluntary
ecclesiastical establishments,--it is difficult to foresee how and when
another tour may be undertaken, or how a tourist will have the heart to
make another experiment. Unhappily, the spirit of discovery, like
Virtue's self, is difficult to be satisfied with its own reward.
Something, however, may in time be expected from the French, who will get
restless in their Algerian limits, and make a bold effort to disenthral
themselves, by leaping the bounds of the mysterious Sahara. Evidently the
French Government have prohibited all isolated attempts. But should their
colony succeed, and they must make it succeed, then a grand stroke of
policy and action will be struck upon the lines of the Saharan routes,
for diverting The Desert trade, if possible, into Algerian channels. We
must wait patiently this time for further researches. Necessity propels
nations in the march of discovery. England has some considerable stake
likewise in the commerce of The Great Desert. But our governmental
affairs are so vast, and ramify over so large a space of the world, that
it is extremely difficult to get a Minister to strike out a new path,
unless he has the sympathies and hearty support of the public with him.
And certainly the last thing in the imagination of the British public is
the undertaking Discoveries in The Great Desert.
A remark may be made respecting the English spelling of Arabic words and
names. I have not adopted the new system, as very few people understand
it. I have endeavoured to represent the sounds of the original words in
the ordinary way, giving sometimes the Arabic letters for those who
prefer greater correctness. The spelling of Oriental and African names is
also occasionally varied for the sake of variety, and sometimes I have
written the words in various ways, according to the style of
pronunciation amongst different Saharan tribes. I have also omitted
accents and italics as much as possible, to avoid confusion and trouble
to the printer. With respect to the contents at the head of the chapters,
numberless little things and circumstances are besides unavoidably
omitted in the enumeration.
I have few acknowledgments to make to those who rendered me assistance in
the prosecution of my Saharan tour and researches. I have rather
complaints to prefer against professed friends. I was unable to get up in
The Desert a single thing, the most trifling, to aid me in my
observations, when I had determined to penetrate farther into the
interior; whilst, somehow or other, a Memorandum was obtained from the
Porte to recal me instead of a Firman to help me on my way. Fortunately I
was beyond its power when it arrived at Tripoli, from Constantinople. But
if I feel the bitterness of this want of sympathy, and these acts of
hostility, I have the pleasure of being triumphant over all the obstacles
thrown in my way. I felt freer in The Desert, unloaded by obligations.
Indeed, the fewer of these a traveller has, the better. He always
supports his trials and privations with lighter spirits and a more
cheerful heart. His success is his own, if his failure is his own also.
Nevertheless I have not forgotten, nor can I ever forget, to the latest
day of my life, the acts of kindness shown to me by the rude and
simple-minded people of The Desert, and I have duly and most scrupulously
chronicled them all.
JAMES RICHARDSON.
LONDON,
_December, 1847._
POSTSCRIPT.--It is hoped, for the honour and humanity of our Government,
that they will resist the clamour to withdraw the Cruisers from the
Western Coast of Africa, and that they will NOT WITHDRAW the British
Cruisers. If a blow is to be struck, let it be struck at Cuba, or the
Brazils, and not on the defenceless Africans, because they are
defenceless. If a burglar prowls about, a whole neighbourhood is on the
alert to protect itself against his depredations. If a band of pirates
swarm in a sea or infest our coasts, a fleet is fitted out to capture
them. But it is attempted to let loose upon weak, defenceless Africa a
legion of pirates and murderers--for such will be the result if the
British Cruisers are withdrawn from the Western Coast.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] See the newspapers for the correspondence between some of the
Bishops of our Church and the Premier. As the question is, Whether
Dr. Hampden be a Heretic or a Christian? I may here observe that
the term "Christian" is used in the following pages for
"European." To the epithet "Christian," in the strict sense of the
term, I have no other pretensions than that of being a
conscientious reader of the New Testament.
[2] "Une et indivisible."
[3] Lord Brougham, in his Life of Pitt, very properly takes off
some discount from the Anti-Slavery zeal of this great Statesman,
for being so tardy in the work of Abolition, and allowing his
Under Secretaries and subordinate Ministers to support the
Slave-Trade against himself, and whilst he was advocating its
extinction.
[4] "It is impossible to deny the advancement of civilization in
that zone of the African continent which has formed the field of
our inquiry. Yet barbarism is there supported by natural
circumstances with which it is vain to think of coping. It may be
doubted whether, if mankind had inhabited the earth only in
populous and adjoining communities, slavery would have ever
existed. The Desert, if it be not absolutely the root of the evil,
has, at least, been from the earliest times the great nursery of
slave hunters. The demoralization of the towns on the Southern
borders of The Desert has been pointed out; and if the vast extent
be considered of the region in which man has no riches but slaves,
no enjoyment but slaves, no article of trade but slaves, and where
the hearts of wandering thousands are closed against pity by the
galling misery of life, it will be difficult to resist the
conviction that the solid buttress on which slavery rests in
Africa, is--The Desert." (p. 139.)
[5] See MR. DUNCAN'S _Travels in Western Africa_.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
VOLUME I.
PLATES.
Portrait of the Author
Map of the Desert
Slave Caravan
WOOD-CUTS.
Arab Tents
Facsimile Specimen of the Writing of a Young Taleb
Manner of drawing Water from Wells
Great Spring of Ghadames
Bas-Relief
Square of Fountains
City of Ghadames
Cistern of an Ancient Tower
Negro's Head
Ancient Ruins of Ghadames
Region of Sands
Rocking Rock
[Illustration: A SLAVE CARAVAN. _J. E. S. del. J. W. Cook. sc._]
TRAVELS
IN
THE GREAT DESERT.
CHAPTER I.
FROM TUNIS TO TRIPOLI.
Project of Journey.--Opinions of People upon its
practicability.--Moral character of Europeans in Barbary.--Leave
the Isle of Jerbah for Tripoli in the coaster _Mesâoud_.--Return
back.--Wind in Jerbah.--Start again for
Tripoli.--Sâkeeah.--Zarzees.--Biban.--The _Salinæ_, or
Salt-pits.--Rais-el-Makhbes.--Zouwarah.--Foul Wind, and put into
the port of Tripoli Vecchia.--Quarrel of Captain with
Passengers.--Description of this Port.--My fellow-travellers, and
Said the runaway Slave.--Arrival at Tripoli, and
Health-Office.--Colonel Warrington, British Consul-General.--The
British Garden.--Interview with Mehemet Pasha.--Barbary
Politics.--Aspect of Tripoli.--Old Castle of the Karamanly
Bashaws.--Manœuvring of the Pasha's Troops.--The Pasha's opinion
of my projected Tour.--Resistance of the Pasha to my Voyage, and
overcome by the Consul.--Departure from Tripoli to Ghadames.
ACCIDENT often determines the course of a man's life. The greater part of
human actions, however humiliating to our moral and intellectual dignity,
is the result of sheer accident. That the accidents of life should
harmonize with the immutable decrees of Providence, is the great mystery
of an honest and thinking mind. The reading accidentally of a fugitive
_brochure_, thrown upon the table of the public library of Algiers, gave
me the germ of the idea, which, fructifying and expanding, ultimately led
me to the design of visiting and exploring the celebrated Oasis of
Ghadames, planted far-away amidst the most appalling desolations of the
Great Saharan Wilderness. This should teach us to lower our pretensions,
and take a large discount from our merits in originating our various
enterprises; but, alas! our over-weening self-love always manages to get
the better of us. The _brochure_ alluded to was a number of the _Revue de
L'Orient_, published at Paris, containing a notice of Ghadames by M.
Subtil, the notorious sulphur[6]-explorer and adventurer of Tripoli.
On leaving Algiers, in January, 1845, I carried the idea of Ghadames with
me to Tunis; and thence, after agitating an exploration to The Desert
amongst my friends, some of whom plainly told me, if I went I should
never return, I should be consumed with the sun and fever, or murdered by
the natives, and to attempt such a thing was altogether madness, I
journeyed on to Tripoli, where I entered with all my soul and might into
the undertaking. But as in Tunis so in Tripoli, I heard the birds of
evil-omen uttering the same mournful notes of discouragement:--"I should
never reach Ghadames, no one else had done so, or no one else had gone
and returned. I should perish by the hand of banditti, or sink under the
burning heat. I was not the man; it required a frame of iron. Enthusiasm
was very well in its way, but it required a man who was expert in arms,
and who could fight his way through The Desert." And such is the absurd
character of men, and some people pretending to be friends of African
discovery, that, on hearing of my safe return after nine months' absence,
they felt chagrined their sagacious vaticinations were not verified. Like
a man who writes a book, and ever so bad a book, he cannot afterwards
adopt a right sentiment, or course of action, because he has written his
book. It is true, the fate of Davidson, in Western Barbary, and the late
disastrous mishap of the young Tuscan on his return from Mourzuk,
favoured the pretensions of these Barbary-coast prophets, who cannot
comprehend a deviation from what had happened before, but it is equally
true that the violent deaths of these individuals, so far as we can
gather from the details, were brought about by the greatest possible
imprudence on their part. However, I may say without hesitation, no
people dread The Desert so much, and have in them so little of the spirit
of enterprise and African discovery, as the naturalized Europeans of
Tunis and Tripoli, and other parts of Barbary. To purchase the
co-operation of a volunteer in these countries would require more money
than defraying the expense of an expedition, and after all, from the love
of intrigue and double-dealing which Europeans long resident in Barbary
acquire, as well as other drawbacks, you would be very badly served.
I shall begin the narrative of my personal adventures in The Sahara with
my departure from the island of Jerbah to Tripoli.
_May 7th, 1845._--Left Jerbah in the evening for Tripoli in the coaster
_Mesâoud_ ("happy"). The captain and owner was a Maltese, but the colours
under which we sailed were Tunisian. Generally, a Moorish captain _di
bandeira_ commands these coasters, because it saves them dues at the
various ports. Indeed, most of the small coasting craft of Tunis and
Tripoli, though the property of Europeans, sail under the Turkish, rather
Mahometan (_red_) flag. Although May, our captain told me, it was the
worst month in the year for coasting in Barbary. The wind comes in sudden
puffs and gales, blowing with extreme violence everything before it,
prostrating and rooting up the stoutest and strongest palm-trees. So, in
fact, as soon as we got out, a _gregale_ ("north-easter") came on
terrifically, and occasioned us to return early next morning to Jerbah.
During the night, we were nearly swamped a few miles from the shore. The
_gregale_ continued the next two days, striking down several of the
date-trees with great fury. When these trees are so struck down, the
people do not make use of the wood for months, nay years, because it is
ill-luck. Jerbah is a grand focus of wind, and it sometimes blows from
every point of the compass in twelve hours. Æolus seems to patronize this
isle; and, as at Mogador on the Atlantic, wind here supplies the place of
rain. The inhabitants of Mogador have wind nine months out of twelve; but
seasons pass without a shower of rain.
_10th._--Evening. Left again for Tripoli. We passed the night about ten
miles off the island, amongst the fishing apparatus, which looks at a
distance like so many little islets. They consist of mere palm-tree
boughs, struck deep into the mud as piles are driven; and large spaces
are thus enclosed. When the tide[7] falls, the fish get entangled or
enclosed in these enclosures, and are caught. Very fine fish are taken,
and a fifth of the ordinary sustenance of the islanders is derived from
this fishing. Unhappily the poor fishermen are obliged to pay from
twenty-five to fifty per cent. of the fish caught to Government; so the
poor in all countries are the worse treated because they are poor.
_11th._--The wind becoming again foul, we put into a little place called
Sâkeeah, a port of the island in the S.E. Here is nothing in the shape of
a port town, only a small square ruinous hovel of mud and plaster, and a
rude hut put up temporarily by a Maltese, who is building a boat. I often
think the Maltese are the _Irish_ of the South. Maltese enterprise is
prevalent in all parts of the Mediterranean but in their own country. The
port, such as it is, is defended by a little round battery, four feet
high, with three rusty pieces of cannon. If these could be fired off, the
masonry would tumble to pieces. This is the _present_ state of all the
fortifications of Mahometan Barbary. It frequently happens that when a
vessel of war visits the smaller Barbary ports, and wishes to fire a
salute in honour of the governors, it is kindly requested this may not be
done, because it is necessary etiquette to return the salute, and, if
returned, the masonry of the fortifications may tumble down. The scene
was wild and bare; the colours of the landscape light and bright. There
were some Moors winnowing barley. An ox was treading out the corn, in
Scripture fashion. Crops of barley and other grain are grown all over
this fertile isle, under the date-palm and olive trees. Small boats were
waiting to carry off the grain to Tunis. As in Ireland, little remains to
feed the people. They must feed on dates, or fish, or vegetables and
roots.
_12th._--Left Sâkeeah with a strong breeze. On looking back on the island
it had the appearance of thousands of date-palms, boldly standing out of
the sea, the land being so low as not to be discernible a few miles'
distance. Jerbah, from this appearance, as from reality, deserves the
name of the "Isle of Palms." After crossing the channel, which runs
between the island and the continent, whose waters were deep and rough,
we got aground in the Shallows, off Zarzees. This place is a round tower
(_burge_) on the continent, with a few houses and plantations of olives
and dates. Here commences the shoal-water, or _bassa-fondo_, as our
semi-Italian boatmen called it, which continues east along the coast for
eighty miles, as far as Rais-el-Makhbes. When we got off again, at the
flow of the tide, we passed Biban ("two doors"), the frontier place of
the Tunisian dominions. Biban is a castle, with some fifty Arab houses,
built of palm-wood and leaves in the shape of hay-stacks, and is situate
on an islet, on each side of which the sea passes inland and forms a
large lagoon. There is at Biban a single European resident, an Italian,
who acts as a French agent and spy on the frontiers of Tunis and Tripoli.
He is paid about eighteen-pence a day, cheap enough for his high
political mission. The French are mighty fond of planting spies all over
Barbary; but espionage is their forte. In the evening we arrived at the
_Salinæ_[8], "salt pits," on the coast, where we found several small
coasters loading with salt for Tripoli. Salt is also exported from this
place to Europe. Here we brought up for the night, creeping and feeling
our way as in the days of ancient navigation. Our bringing up, however,
was fortunate, for the wind suddenly blew a gale from the N.W.,
continuing all night, and until next day, when it fell a dead calm again.
Strange weather for the fine month of May. But the Mediterranean, which
is called the "_home_ station," is one of the nastiest chafing seas in
the world, and in this fair season of the year is exposed to the most
tremendous squalls, nay, continuous gales of wind.
_13th._--We weighed again our little anchor, and in the afternoon cast it
before Rais-el-Makhbes, the last anchoring ground of the _bassa-fondo_.
The shore from Zarzees to Rais-el-Makhbes is extremely low. The
_bassa-fondo_ stretches off the coast in some places at least thirty or
forty miles, and is so shallow, that boats of the smallest burden often
ground. Here our Maltese captain observed to me, with great mystery,
"See, _Signore_, we must now be very cautious how we act, and watch the
wind, so as to take it on the very first breath of its being favourable,
for from here it is all deep water to Tripoli." In general, however, the
Maltese captains display more courage than the Italians in these
coasters.
_14th._--In the morning we cleared Cape Makhbes. The captain was to have
rounded it and entered the little port of Zouwarah, where there is a
quarantine agent, and landed me there according to agreement. I had
letters for this place, and was to have gone thence to Tripoli by land,
two or three days' journey. On remonstrating, he gravely asked, "Whether
I wished to do him an injury, compelling him to go to Zouwarah, from
which port he couldn't get out for the wind?" Perceiving the captain had
fully made up his mind to break a written agreement, signed before the
Consul, for the temporary advantage now offering, I left off
remonstrating, though extremely dissatisfied. We continued our course. It
soon fell calm, and, as usual, the calm was again succeeded with a
violent _gregale_, against which we could not make head. I now told our
Palinurus it was necessary to look out for the port of Tripoli Vecchia,
otherwise we should be obliged to go back or keep the open sea all night,
for we could not reach Tripoli to-day. Half an hour elapsed, and the wind
continuing to freshen, the captain took my advice. We turned direct
south, and sought the port. After experiencing some difficulty, during
which the captain, to my surprise, discovered the most serious alarm, we
found and entered the wished-for haven. It was a real miracle of good
luck, for the wind came on dreadfully, the angry spray was covering us
with water, and our sufferings would have been beyond description if we
had been obliged to keep the sea. Our bark was a mere cockle-shell, into
which were rammed and jammed and crammed twenty-two mortal and immortal
beings: _C'est à dire_, four sailors, fourteen Moorish passengers,
including a woman and a child, two Jews, myself, and a runaway slave. So
that our heartfelt thankfulness to a good Providence, pitying our folly
and imprudence, may be easily imagined. In the midst of our confusion
while searching for the port--having only three or four hours' daylight
before us--the most ludicrous scene was enacted, which might have ended
in the tragic. Some of the Moors professed to know the port of Tripoli
Vecchia. Hereupon each fellow gave a different description, a thing
perfectly natural, as each would have seen the port under different
circumstances of time and place. "It was surrounded with white
cliffs,--it was black,--rocky,--it was a sandy shore." All bawled and
clamoured together. The captain put his fingers in his ears with rage. He
had never been in before, or his men. At last, losing all patience, the
Maltese fire got up, blown to fury, and, seizing a knife, the captain
swore he would cut their throats if they didn't hold their tongues, or
give a more distinct account of the port. This menace cowed them down
like so many bullies, and they fell into a moody but vindictive silence,
their looks discovering the internal oaths of revenge. It was really
droll, if the words used allow the expression, to hear how the captain
blended Italian, Maltese, and Arabic oaths and abuse in his rage. Now
"_Santo Dio!_" now "_Scomunicat!_" _Sacrament!_ now "_Allah!_" "_Imshe_,"
"_Kelb_," "_Andat_," "_per Bacco!_" &c. At length, when a sailor from the
mast-head descried the port, and a tremendous surf was seen or said to be
seen rolling near the entrance, the Moors, who although mostly sulky
under the influence of their fatalism, and show very little courage in
the dangers of the sea, cried out with fear, "Allah, Allah!" "Ya,
Mohammed!" (O God! O God! O Mahomet!) The captain even felt disposed to
blubber at the sight of the furious surf, so nothing less could be
expected from the passengers. A bad example is this to the sailors and
people, but one which often occurs aboard Italian and Maltese vessels.
_15th._--The wind continued all night and the following day. It dropped
down on the afternoon of the 16th; on the 17th a pleasant breeze sprung
up, and continued until we got within a couple of miles off Tripoli. We
were followed for three hours by a shoal of porpoises, some nearly as big
as our bark, which enjoyed highly the run with us, "_perceiving_," as the
captain said, "_our motion_." The first night of our anchorage in the
Tripoli Vecchia, we had several alarms that the tiny bark had dragged its
anchor, and was about to take us out into the open sea: no one could
sleep. After the wind subsided, our _Christian_ sailors were alarmed that
we might have our throats cut by the _Ishmaelite_ Arabs from the shore
the next night. When it was quite calm we went on shore to search for
water; we found a well of good water on the N.E. landing of the port. A
palm beckoned us to the spring, but a single palm is often found where
there is no well or water; and it is not true, as vulgarly supposed, that
where there are date-palms there must be water. The country in this
vicinity is a perfect desert, yet on this arid waste shepherds drive
their flocks in the spring, and up to May and June. The captain
considered Tripoli Vecchia, which is a very ancient port, and the site of
a once famous city, more secure than that of Tripoli itself, though
certainly much smaller. Whilst we were here no bark visited it.
Good-sized ships occasionally anchor in it. Like Tripoli, it is defended
with a sunken reef of rocks, some peaks of which rise several feet out of
the water. Along this line is a strong surf always chafing and roaring.
There are two mouths of entrance; the deepest water within is about
twelve or fourteen feet. There is another but much smaller port, two
miles further east; the coast from this to Tripoli offers nothing to the
tourist. Twelve miles this way begin those forests of fine broad-waving
palms, which form so noble a feature in the suburban landscape of
Tripoli. When we got off Tripoli we had a dead calm, and myself looking
about for the wind, the Moors got angry, and said, "Be still; if you
restlessly stare about, and wish the wind to come, it will never come:
you cast the '_eye malign_' upon it." These superstitious ideas are not
peculiar to the Moors. An English captain once told me, if I continued to
stay below, the wind would never be fair. Tripoli looked here very bold,
massive, and imposing from the sea; its broad lime-washed towers, and the
graceful minarets beyond, all dazzling white in the sun, contrasting with
the dark blue waters of the Mediterranean. Such is the delusion of all
these sea-coast Barbary towns; at a distance and without, beauty and
brilliancy, but near and within, filth and wretchedness.
A word of my fellow passengers and crew. Our Maltese _Rais_, although he
broke his agreement with me, behaved well; I therefore paid him,
requesting the Chancellor of our Consulate only to scold him, and warn
him for the future. He is a good Maltese Christian; and when I told him
Malta had fifty years' possession of Tripoli, he replied, "Ah, how the
world changes! what a pity God has given this fine country into the hands
of rascally Turks." Sometimes he would kick the Moors about and through
the ship like cattle: at other times he would say, "Aye, come,
_bismillah_[9]," and help them to a part of his supper. The Moors
provided for only _four_ days' provisions, a day over the average time,
and they were all out of bread before arriving at Tripoli. The captain
consulted me as to what was to be done; we arranged to supply them with a
few biscuits every day, I taking the responsibility of payment, pitying
the poor devils. If a Moor has a good passage at sea, he says, "Thank
God!" if not, _Maktoub_, ("It is written,") and quietly submits to the
evils which he has brought on himself by sheer imprudence. Their
provisions, in this case, consisted of barley-meal, olive-oil, a few
loaves of wheaten bread, and a little dried paste for making soup. The
soup was made of a few onions, dried peppers, salt, oil, and the paste.
On first starting, some of the more respectable had a few hard-boiled
eggs, with which the Jews most frequently travel; and others had a little
pickled fish. When the paste was finished, the barley-meal was attacked,
and when this was gone, the greater part lived on biscuits sopped in
water. We tried to buy a sheep from a flock driven by the shore, for
which I furnished a dollar; but the current was so strong, that the man
could not reach the land. One poor old Moor lived actually on bread and
water all the time he was on board, and would have nothing else, telling
me, "What God gives is enough." Yet he was cheerful and talkative. One of
the two Jews was also a very old blind man, clothed in rags. He, too,
mostly fared on biscuits sopped in water; nevertheless, he also was quite
happy! "Where are you going, Abraham?" I said to him. "Where God wills I
go," he replied; "but I wish to lay my poor bones in the land of our
fathers. Many long years God has afflicted us for our sins, but it will
not be for ever." The old gentleman was going to get a passage from
Tripoli to the Holy Land. How little suffices some! How much does faith!
So mysterious are the ways of the Creator in distributing contentment.
For myself, I fared extremely well in the midst of this _happy_ melée of
misery and starvation, Mr. Pariente, of Jerbah, having filled for me a
large box of provisions, consisting of a leg of lamb, a fowl, pigeons,
fish and bread, besides wine and spirits. But this was as liberally
distributed amongst all as given to me, and not a crumb was left on
arriving at Tripoli. When we were getting safe into port, I gave the grog
to the crew; they had often cast wistful eyes at the _acquavite_, but
none was poured out whilst at sea. Two or three drunken sailors would
have sent our cockle-shell to the bottom; still, in spite of the
coffee-drinking vessels, a little spirits may occasionally be very
usefully distributed to men, fighting and wrestling with the wild waves
and the tempest. Our bark was from six to eight tons' burden, and the
cabin was just big enough for me and the captain to move in; the woman
and child slept in the forecastle, and all the rest on deck. Each Moorish
passenger paid half a dollar for the voyage. I have been thus particular
in describing our coaster and its _live_ freight, to show what misery is
endured in these coasting voyages. It was, however, a fit introduction to
my painful journeyings through the still more inhospitable _ocean_
desert.
I have now to mention my runaway servant, Said. This negro was the slave
of Sidi Mustapha, Consular Agent of France in Jerbah. Mustapha was
formerly Consular Agent of England, and being found to possess slaves, he
was dismissed. He got up however false documents, to show that he had
disposed of his slaves; but this being discovered, the cheat did not
avail, and he was not allowed to be any longer England's Consul. Then,
seeing his imposture had failed, he again resumed power over his slaves,
and Said was still his slave on my arrival at Jerbah. Hearing of this, I
told Said to go on board, and wait till the boat left. He did so. The
captain winked at it, and apparently every one else, for Said was
securely numbered on the vessel's _papers_ as a passenger. This, of
course, happened before the Bey of Tunis finally abolished slavery, which
important event took place in the beginning of the year 1846, to the
eternal honour of the reigning Mussulman prince. But, even if slavery had
continued in Tunis, Mustapha, the French Consular Agent in Jerbah, could
have had no legal right over Said, after having given a document to the
British Consul-General, certifying that he had liberated all his slaves.
The runaway Said was in reality a freed man. The reader, however, will be
pleased to understand that I am not justifying my conduct for enticing a
slave to run away. I despise such an attempted justification. On the
contrary, I consider that every man, who has the means of striking off
the chains from a slave, and does not embrace the opportunity of doing
so, is the rather the man who commits an offence against natural right.
As to the French Consular Agent, I asked some people why the French
Government did not dismiss him also for his premeditated forgery of
public documents? I was told that, on the contrary, this was a reason for
keeping him French Consul--that he could not be _disavowed_ in connexion
with _British_ affairs, or, if disavowed, he must be pensioned off. A
French Consul, whose acquaintance I made in North Africa, replied to me,
on rallying him on the various disavowals of French functionaries in
different parts of the world: "I assure you, the only way to get
distinction in our consular service is to get disavowed. When disavowed
about English differences, we must be decorated, or the mob of Paris and
its journals would not be satisfied."
Our captain gave me a hint that, on arriving at Tripoli, there would be
exhibited a good deal of _fantazia_, ("humbug[10]") by the health-office
department. Accordingly, after we had been an hour in port, the health
officer came alongside, and affected great surprise at our not having
_passports_, and asked me, with great pomposity, what was my "_reverito
nome?_" The Turks always adopt and caricature the worst parts of European
civilization, leaving its better forms wholly unimitated. This is,
perhaps, in the nature of the struggles which a semi-barbarous power may
make to attain the standard of its civilized neighbour.
On landing, I went off with Said to the British Consulate. Although I had
seen Colonel Warrington at Malta, I was now so sea-worn and browned with
sun and wind, with an _incipient_ desert beard, that he did not
immediately recollect me. I therefore presented my letter of
introduction, mentioning my name, when at once the Colonel recognized me.
"Ah!" observed the Colonel, "I don't believe our Government cares one
straw about the suppression of the slave-trade, but, Richardson, I
believe in you, so let's be off to my garden." I rode one of the
Colonel's horses, which had been so long in the stable without exercise,
that I found the Barbary barb no joke. A most violent _gregale_ swept the
bare beach of the harbour as we proceeded to the gardens and plantations
of the Masheeah, and the restive prancing of the horse was not unlike the
dancing about of the cockle-shell bark to which I had been condemned for
the last ten days. The _British Garden_ I found to be a splendid
horticultural developement, containing the choicest fruit-trees of North
Africa, with ornamental trees of every shape, and hue, and foliage--all
the growth of thirty years, and the greater part of them planted by the
hands of Colonel Warrington himself. The villa is on the site of an
ancient haunted house--for what country does not boast of its haunted
house? The spot which once was visited nightly by some Saracen's-head
ghost, in the midst of a waste, is now the fairest, loveliest garden of
Tripoli! Amongst its rich fruit-trees is an immense peach-tree--the
largest in all this part of Africa. It is a round, squatting,
wide-spreading tree, not nailed up to the walls, but the size of its
girth of boughs is enormous.
I must take the liberty of leaving off daily dates here. I detest daily
note-writing, although the reader may find for his peculiar infliction so
long a journal as these pages.
_19th._--A _ghiblee_ day. The wind from The Desert is coming with a
vengeance. Its breath is the pure flame of the furnace. I am obliged to
tie a handkerchief over my face in passing through the verandahs of the
garden. I had not the least idea it could be so hot here in the middle of
May. At 2 P.M. the thermometer in the sun was at 142° Fahrenheit.
Neither Tunis nor Tripoli has been sufficiently appreciated by the
politicians of Europe. Indian and American affairs are the two ideas
which occupy our merchants. And yet the best informed of the consuls in
Tripoli say, "The future battles of Europe will be fought in North
Africa." At this time there is considerable agitation and political
intrigue afoot here. Algerian politics, also, envenom these squabbles.
The aspect of the city of Tripoli is the most miserable of all the towns
I have seen in North Africa. And they say, "It grows worse and worse."
Yet the present Pasha, Mehemet, is esteemed as a good and sensible man.
Unfortunately, a Turkish Governor can have very little or no interest in
the permanent prosperity of this country. His tenure of office is very
insecure, and rarely extends beyond four or five years; so that whilst
here he only thinks of providing for himself. The country is therefore in
a continual state of impoverishment as governed by successive pashas.
Each successive high functionary works and fleeces the people to the
uttermost. Even in our own colonies the exception is, that the Governor
cares more for the welfare of the colony than for his own immediate
benefit. In Turkish colonies we must therefore expect the rule to be,
that the Pasha should govern only for his private benefit and personal
aggrandizement.
_21st._--This afternoon His Highness Mehemet Pasha had arranged to grant
me an interview. I was introduced, of course, by our Consul-General,
Colonel Warrington. Mr. Casolaina, the Chancellor of the Consulate, and
his son, were in attendance as interpreters. His Highness receives all
strangers and transacts all business in an apartment of the celebrated
old castle of the Karamanly Bashaws, whose legends of blood and intrigue
have been so vividly and terrifically transcribed in _Tully's Tripoline
Letters_. On entering this place I was astonished at its ruinous and
repulsive appearance. Nothing could better resemble a prison, and yet a
prison in the most dilapidated condition. Walking through the dark,
winding, damp, mildewy passages, shedding down upon us a pestiferous
dungeon influence, Colonel Warrington suddenly stopped, as if to breathe
and repel the deadly miasma, and turning to me, said: "Well, Richardson,
what do you think of this? Capital place this for young ladies to dance
in, so light and airy. Many a poor wretch has entered here, with promises
of fortune and royal favour, and has met his doom at the hand of the
assassin! In my long course of service, how many Kaëds and Sheikhs I have
known, who have come in here and have never gone out. I'm a great reader
of Shakspeare. It's the next book after the Bible. But a thousand
Shakspeares, with all their tragic genius, could never describe the
passions which have worked, and the horrors which have been perpetrated,
in this place." The Colonel's tragic harangue was not without its effect
in these dungeon passages, and the old gentleman seemed to enjoy the
shiver which he saw involuntarily agitate me. Indeed, the darksome
noisome atmosphere, without this tragic appeal, could not fail to make
itself felt, as Egyptian darkness was felt, after leaving the fiery heat
and bright dazzling sun-light without. Winding about from one ruinous
room to another, and ascending various flights of tumbling-down steps and
stairs, we got up at length to the eastern end, where there are two or
three new apartments constructed in the modern style. In one of them, not
unlike a city merchant's receiving-parlour, we found the Pasha and his
court. We were immediately introduced, and somewhat to my surprise, I
found His Highness an extremely plain _unmilitary_-looking Turkish
gentleman, of about fifty years of age, and dressed without the least
pretensions of any kind. How unlike the ancient gemmed and jewelled
Bashaws! flaming in "Barbaric pearl and gold." The present Ottoman
costume is most simple. His Highness had only the _Nisham_, or Turkish
decoration of brilliants upon his breast, to distinguish him from his own
domestics, coffee-bearers, or others. As soon as he saw us, he hurriedly
came up to us and seized hold of our hands and shook them cordially. The
troops were at the moment being reviewed, and we had a good sight of them
from our elevated position. They were manœuvring on the sea-beach between
the city and the Masheeah. "Tell the Bashaw," cried out the Colonel to
Casolaina, "I never saw such splendid manœuvring in all the course of my
life. They do His Highness and Ahmed Bashaw, the Commander-in-Chief,
infinite credit." This compliment was interpreted and graciously
received though its value was no doubt properly appreciated by the
politic Turk. The Colonel continued:--"Tell the Bashaw, that as long as
the Sultan has such troops as these, he will be invincible." This was
answered by, "_Enshallah_, _enshallah_, (If God pleases, if God
pleases)". The Colonel still laid it on:--"Casolaina, tell the Bashaw, I
myself should not like to command even English troops against these fine
fellows." To which the Bashaw and his Court replied, "_Ajeeb_,
(Wonderful!)" Ahmed Bashaw, the Commander-in-Chief, a most
ferocious-looking Turk, seized hold of my shoulders and pushed me to the
window to admire his brilliant men. I could just see that their
manœuvrings were in the style of the "awkward squad;" but their arms and
white pantaloons dazzled beautifully in the sun upon the margin of the
deep-blue sea.
After we had satisfied our curiosity or admiration in looking at the
troops, the windows were shut down, and all sat down to business. His
Highness began by asking my name, when I came, and what I was going to be
about? The Consul replied to these first and usual questions of Turkish
functionaries, and more particularly explained my projected visit to
Ghadames. The Pasha immediately consented, as a matter of course, with
Turkish politeness; but before the interview was concluded, various
objections were started and insisted upon, showing the _not_ suddenly
excited jealousy of these functionaries, who, previous to my interview,
knew all about my anti-slavery and literary projects. His Highness
observed:--"The heat is killing now, the distance is great, the road is
infested with robbers; I shall have to send an escort of five hundred
troops with your friend, (addressing the Consul); not long ago two
hundred banditti attacked a caravan. All Tunisian Arabs are robbers; the
Bey of that country cannot maintain order in his country; besides, an
Arab will kill ten men to get one pair of pistols; but I'll make further
inquiries." His Highness also related a feat of his own troops, who
captured seven camels from the banditti, which he said he distributed
amongst the captors. He also gave his own people, the Tripolines, a very
bad character. But, of course, the Tripolines and the Turks must mutually
hate one another. We were served with pipes, coffee, and sherbet. I
pretended to sip the pipe two or three times, as a matter of politeness,
for though I have been in Barbary some time, where smoking is universal,
I have not adopted the dirty vice. Near the Pasha sat the second in
command, or Commander-in-Chief of the forces, the Pasha himself devoting
his attention almost exclusively to civil affairs. As I have said, this
functionary was a most savage-looking fellow, and his acts in Tripoli and
his reputation accord with the character broadly stamped on his
countenance. He has risen from the lowest ranks--one of the _canaille_ of
the Levant--and is blood-thirsty and vindictive whenever he has the means
of showing these dreadful passions. How many tyrants have risen from the
ranks of those who are the victims and objects of tyranny!
The Consul hinted to me afterwards, that this military tyrant would
oppose my journey to the interior, and throw all sorts of obstacles in
the way, but thought the Pasha would not listen to his insinuations. On
asking the Consul what he thought of the objections of the Pasha? he
said: "Oh, they are only to increase the merit of his facilitating your
trip." Mehemet Pasha has the rank of three tails, and the Pasha of the
Troops two tails. There was present also Mohammed Aly, a Moor, who
interprets between the Moors and Arabs, and the Turks. He is said to be
entirely in the interest of the English. He frequently visits the
Vice-Consul, Mr. Herbert Warrington, who treats the interpreter with a
bottle of champaigne, and in this way things are greatly smoothed down
before His Highness. A glass of wine is often more potent than an
elaborate speech in these and other diplomatic transactions. It is but
justice to these functionaries to say, whatever money they may take away
from Tripoli, that they are very moderate in their style of living and
dress in this place. The apartment in which we were received was
exceedingly plain. All the furniture was of the most ordinary European
stuff; there was nothing oriental in it but a large square ottoman. A few
flowers were placed gracefully on the table, and there was a pretty
bronzed lamp. We visitors sat on cane-bottomed chairs. The costume of
these high functionaries was the usual large Turkish frock-coat, tightly
buttoned up, and white or other light-coloured pantaloons, for summer
wear, and these strapped over thick heavy black leather shoes, the straps
often inside the shoes as an Ottoman improvement on the European fashion.
The head was covered with the _shasheeah_, or fez, with a large blue silk
tassel hanging prettily from the crown. On the breast hung the _Nisham_
decoration, distinguishing the various grades and rank.
We left His Highness under the impression that he would do every thing in
his power to forward our views, and never dreamt of a future memorandum
of recall after having reached Ghadames with His Highness's permission.
It is not now my intention to give an account of Tripoli, so I pass on to
a second interview I had with the Bashaw. This was on the 7th of July. In
this long interval, I had been waiting for letters from England, and in
every way was learning lessons of most imperturbable patience.
I was visiting some sick officers in the castle with a Maltese doctor of
the name of _Gameo_, whose acquaintance I had made, and whom I found
useful in collecting information on Tripoli and the interior, when one of
the functionaries of the Castle came to tell me the Bashaw would like to
see me. I felt some delicacy in going, but thought it better to comply
with the wish of His Highness. There was immediately presented to me, as
usual to all visitors, a pipe, coffee, and sherbet. Our interview lasted
about half an hour, and the conversation was _to the point_, referring
solely to my journey to the interior. But, although I exerted all my
skill and tact, I could not remove the jealousies of His Highness, and I
believe for one, and only one reason. It had been given out in Tripoli
that I was to be appointed Consul at Ghadames. The Bashaw fearing that
such an appointment would interfere with his system of extorting money
from the inhabitants of that country (the treasury being empty in
Tripoli), set his face against my journey, and endeavoured to delay it
until he could get a _counter_ order from Constantinople. His Highness
was however very polite, and promised to furnish me with tents, if I had
need, and a large escort. The Turks are getting sensitive of the press.
The Bashaw said he had heard I was a great newspaper writer, and asked me
if I had any objection to writing an article in his praise.
At the end of the month of July (30th), Colonel Warrington suggested to
me the propriety of writing to him a letter, stating my wish and objects
in visiting the interior. I did so, and received an answer from the
Colonel the same day. Mr. Frederick Warrington, who had great influence
with several people about His Highness, and myself, went again to the
Bashaw, in order to conciliate His Highness and persuade him to give a
_bonâ fide_ protection to me through the interior of Tripoli, as also to
obtain a passport. It unfortunately happened, that about a week ago, a
Ghadames caravan had been captured by some hostile Arabs on the frontiers
of Tunis. His Highness immediately produced this case, and said it was
impossible for me to go whilst the routes were so insecure. He also
alleged, and with more reason:--"The season was now too late, the heat
was intolerable, and an European of my delicate constitution must
succumb." We therefore returned much depressed. Colonel Warrington then,
annoyed at the Bashaw's resistance, wrote the next day a letter to his
Chancellor, requesting him to wait upon the Bashaw, and demand formally a
passport for me, my servant, and camel-driver. I went with Mr. Casolaina,
but did not see His Highness, waiting only at the door of the hall of
audience, in case I should be wanted. His Highness apologized for his
opposition, stating his objections of the season and the insecurity of
the routes, but gave the order for the passports. I find the following
note in my journal:--"Left Tripoli for Ghadames on the 2nd August, 1845;
I had grown completely tired of Tripoli, and left it without a single
regret, having suffered much from several sources of annoyance, including
both the Consulate and the Bashaw."
FOOTNOTES:
[6] Many newspaper articles have been written, and companies
formed, for the promotion of exploring for sulphur in Tripoli (the
Syrtis); but somehow or other, all these schemes have failed. I
have been told there is sulphur in the Syrtis, and the failure of
obtaining it in remunerative quantity is to be attributed alone to
the chicanery or want of skill in the agent.
[7] There is a far greater ebb and flow of tide here than at any
other coast of the Mediterranean, the sea rising and falling no
less than ten feet. This tidal phenomenon extends to the Lesser
Syrtis and to Sfax.
[8] Like the fish-lakes of Biserta in Tunis, these salt-pits were
worked by the ancients, and have been inexhaustible and
unchangeable through two thousand years. Whatever may be the
geological changes in other regions of the globe, those of North
Africa are not very rapid, beyond filling up a few of the
artificial harbours, or _cothons_, with mud. Barbary contains
several Roman bridges which have spanned a stream remaining the
same size, and running in the same bed, through a course of
centuries. The salt of the _Salinæ_ is of good quality.
[9] _Bismillah_, "In the name of God," the formula used by Moslems
when they partake of food. In the _Lingua Franca_ we have
sometimes "_Avete_ bismillah?" or "bismillah_ato_?" that is,
"taken your meal?"
[10] In the present application, for this _Lingua Franca_ word
generally means "vain silly shewing off." The "playing at powder,"
or "firing off matchlocks for amusement," is also called a
_fantazia_ in Algeria and Morocco.