RESIDENCE AT MOURZUK.
Arrival at Mourzuk; and reported as a Christian Marabout from
Soudan.--Meet Angelo, who conducts me to his Master, the British
Vice-Consul.--Hearty Welcome from Mr. Gagliuffi.--Detail of the
Slave-Caravans of The Wady.--Read the Newspapers; Massacre of
Jemâ-el-Ghazouat, and the Annexation of Texas.--Visit to the
Bashaw of Mourzuk.--Visits to the Commandant of the Garrison and
the Kady.--Poetical Scrap of European Antiquity.--Celebration of
a Wedding.--Environs of Mourzuk.--Camera Oscura.--Mourzuk
Couriers.--The Kidnapped Circassian Officer.--Old Yousef, the
Renegade.--Dine with the Greek Doctor on a Carnival Day.--An
Albanian's Revenge.--Greece and its Diplomatists.--Officials of
Mourzuk.--An Arab's estimate of God and Mahomet.--What is
Truth?--Improvements of the Commandant of the Troops.--How
English Politics taste in The Desert.--Visit to the Grave of Mr.
Ritchie.
_22nd._--ROSE early, and got off again as well as I could, considering I
had had little or nothing to eat for the last two days, and should have
nothing till the evening, when we expected to reach Mourzuk. Course east
and south-east. Still cold and windy. Palms scattered over all the route,
from Agath to Mourzuk, but only a few of them cultivated. It was most
refreshing to behold so many trees on our road, after traversing such
treeless and sandy wastes. A few wells here and there, and a little corn
cultivation. Arrived at Mourzuk at about 4 P.M.
I here thought of a squib which had been published in a rival paper at
Malta, representing me as "The Consul of the Blacks at Mourzuk" in
allusion to and satirizing my anti-slavery propensities. These things
will come back to one's memory years and years after they have been
forgotten. When I read the squib, I little imagined I should ever visit
Mourzuk, and yet the visit could be traced readily enough as resulting
from my anti-slavery labours in Malta and the Mediterranean. Mustapha
stopped at the gate to make his toilet, and I lent him my barracan to
make on entering the city. Moors and all Saharan travellers dress
themselves up before they enter any large or particular place, when on a
journey, and they wonder why I do not follow their nice tidy example. On
entering Mourzuk, I suppose I looked very queer, for it was immediately
reported to the Bashaw, "A Christian Marabout is arrived from Soudan." We
were stopped a few minutes at the gates, to see if I had any exciseable
articles. This done, I made the best of my way to the residence of Mr.
Gagliuffi. On the road I casually met the Maltese servant of the
Vice-Consul. His face brightened up with joyful amazement, and he shook
me eagerly by the hands. Englishmen arrive here once in half a century,
or rather never, which sufficiently accounts for the excitement of the
Maltese. Angelo took me direct to the Consul's house, and I found Mr.
Gagliuffi at the door. The Consul was as astonished to see me as his
servant. He stared at me as if I had just dropped from the clouds. He had
heard of my going to Ghadames, Ghat, and Soudan, but did not expect to
see me one while. I need not add, Mr. Gagliuffi gave me a most hearty
welcome. I found the Consul in a very fine and spacious house for oases
of Desert, with "all his English[108] comforts around him," as we say.
Seven months had made me forget all these things, and I was now a Saharan
entering into the domains of comfortable, if not civilized, life. The
appearance of Mourzuk was not very pleasing to me, the major part of its
dwellings being miserable hovels. The Castle looked dirty, and tumbling
down. Nevertheless, the presence of Turkish troops and officers in
uniform about the streets, with a variety of people congregated from
different towns and districts of Sahara, gave the place more the aspect
of a city than any other town I had seen since I left Tripoli. I was
extremely knocked up and unwell, and at once determined not to leave
Mourzuk until my health should be restored. I found myself right as to
the date of my arrival at Mourzuk, on comparing notes with Mr. Gagliuffi;
but two days wrong as to the name of the day, having written down Friday
instead of Sunday. As to the Moorish reckoning of Ghat and Ghadames, that
was quite different from the name of the day, and the number of the day,
as found in Mourzuk. Time is very badly and incorrectly kept in The
Sahara.
Some few particulars must now be recorded of the slave-caravans which I
left in The Wady. The united number was some one hundred and thirty
slaves. Two-thirds were females, and these young women or girls. There
were a few children. Necessity teaches some of the best as well as the
sternest lessons. A child of three years of age rode a camel alone, and
without fear. The poor little creature knew if it complained or
discovered itself frightened, it would be obliged to walk through The
Desert. The slaves were fed in the morning with dates, and in the evening
with ghusub. Female slaves, after the style of Aheer people, pounded the
ghusub in a large wooden mortar, just before cooking. But they had little
to eat, and were miserably fed, except those who had the good fortune to
be purchased by Haj Ibrahim. For some of these improvident stupid
merchants had actually purchased slaves without the means of keeping
them. On arriving at The Wady, they sent jointly, through Haj Ibrahim, to
borrow a hundred dollars of the Bashaw of Mourzuk. The messenger was
Mustapha. His Highness kindly enough handed him over the money. All the
masters carried a whip, but this was rarely used, except to drive them
along the road, when they lagged from exhaustion. Thus it was
administered at times when it could least be borne, when nature was
sinking from fatigue and utter weariness! and therefore was cruel and
inhuman. Yet only some twenty were sick, and two died. When very ill they
were lashed upon the back of the camel. Some of the young women that had
become favourites of their masters experienced a little indulgence. I
observed occasionally love-making going on between the slaves, and some
of the boys would carry wood for the girls. My servant Said had one or
two black beauties under his protection. But everything was of the most
innocent and correct character. Some groups of slaves were aristocratic,
and would not associate with the others. Three young females under the
care of the Shereef, assumed the airs and attitude of exclusives, and
would not associate with the rest. Every passion and habit of civilized,
is represented in savage life. A perfect democracy, in any country and
state of society, is a perfect lie, and a leveller is a brainless fool.
There is also an aristocracy in crime and in virtue, in demons and in
angels. The slaves are clad variously. Haj Ibrahim tried to give every
one of his a blanket or barracan, more or less large. Besides this, the
females had a short chemise, and a dark-blue Soudan cotton short-sleeved
frock. Many had only this frock. The poor creatures suffered more from
the ignorant neglect of the Touaricks than the Tripoline merchants, and
their complaints and diseases usually begin with their former masters.
Yet I am assured by Mr. Gagliuffi, that the Touaricks of Aheer are
infinitely better and kinder masters than the Tibboo merchants of Bornou,
or even many Tripolines. The Tibboos cannot bring a female child over The
Desert of the tender age of six or seven, without deflowering her, whilst
the Touaricks of Aheer shudder at such sensual brutality, and even bring
maidens to the market of an advanced age. The brutal Tibboos besides
bring their slaves quite naked, with only a bit of leather or cotton
wound round their loins, whilst the Touaricks always furnish them with
some little clothing.
_23rd._--Felt better, but weak. The excitement produced in me by my new
quarters and reading the journals, after four months elapsing since I saw
the last, made all the people fancy I was already attacked with their
Mourzuk fever. Mr. Gagliuffi treated me as such, and the Greek doctor was
sent for, who approved of my being treated as attacked, and I took
accordingly fever powders. But another night's rest restored me and I
discovered no symptoms of fever, for which I could not be too thankful,
as the fever nearly attacks all strangers journeying in Mourzuk. The news
from Europe was exceedingly disagreeable to me, inasmuch as I read of
crimes and events of a much darker shade than the things which I had seen
in Desert amongst the Barbarians. The two events which arrested my
attention were the massacre of five hundred French troops near Jamâ
El-Ghazouat, and the annexation of Texas, as most relating to my present
pursuits. The first was an evident retribution for burning alive a tribe
of Arabs in the caverns of the Atlas. Some high personages in Paris
deplored this massacre of their devoted and hapless countrymen, but the
poor Arabs of the Atlas, the men, women, and children burnt or suffocated
alive, were unpitied and unmourned[109], because they happened to be
resisting the placing of a foreign yoke on their necks. Such is the high
tone of our political morality in Europe! No wonder the curse of God is
upon us and afflicts us with famine and cholera! The annexation of Texas,
for the extension of slavery and the slave trade, I hope will at once and
for ever disabuse the minds of our wild democrats, who fancy that because
people call themselves republicans and establish a republican form of
government, therefore they are the friends of freedom. Better had America
been bound hand and foot for ever to the aristocratic tyranny of the
mother country, than that she should now become, as she is, the world's
palladium of Negro slavery, and the huge breeding house of slaves to
endless generations! We cannot but recommend to these trans-atlantic
tramplers upon the freedom and rights of man, in defiance of all divine
and human laws, the following lines of Mr. James--
"Oh, let them look to where in bonds,
For help their bondsmen cry--
Oh, let them look, ere British hands
Wipe out that living lie.
"Veil, starry banner, veil your pride,
The blood-red cross before--
Emblem of that by Jordan's side
Man's freedom price that bore,
No land is strong that owns a slave,
Vain is it wealthy, crafty, brave."
"The slaver's boastful thirst of gain,
Tends but to break his bondsman's chain."
_24th._--Much better in health to-day. Sent off Said, with a man of this
place, to fetch my trunk and other baggage left in The Wady. Find Mr.
Gagliuffi keeps up a friendly correspondence with the Vizier of the
Sheikh of Bornou. Any one going to Bornou would derive great advantage
from the Vice-Consul's letters of recommendation. Mr. Gagliuffi has also
considerable influence over the population of Fezzan, and is on good
terms with the Mourzuk Bashaw.
_25th._--Felt well enough to-day to call upon the Bashaw. His Highness's
full name and title is Hasan Bashaw Belazee. I was introduced to him by
Mr. Gagliuffi, who previously insisted upon sprucing me up a bit, and
removing my Maraboutish appearance by getting me a new red cap or _fez_.
My _Christian_ hat was left at Ghadames. It was impossible to wear it in
Desert or towns, for people always said I looked like a Christian devil
when I wore the European black hat. We found His Highness just recovered
from a month's indisposition. He received us very politely, and Mr.
Gagliuffi tells me he is really a very good sort of man. His Highness
gave us pipes and tea, which is becoming now a favourite beverage amongst
the Moors of East, as it has long been in West Barbary, amongst all races
of the Maroquines, who have introduced the fashion of tea-drinking and
teetotalism at Timbuctoo. His Highness was very talkative and affable. He
was amazed at my audacity in going amongst the Touaricks without a single
letter of recommendation, and looks upon my arrival at Mourzuk as an
escape from death to life. His Highness confessed, however, that the
Touaricks are people of one word, and that, after having told me they
would protect me, I did right in confiding in their honour. He added, "If
you go to Aheer hereafter I will assist you all I can." Mr. Gagliuffi
pretends the Bashaw has considerable influence amongst all the Touarghee
tribes, and the Touaricks always follow strictly the recommendations
which the Bashaw, as governor of the province of Fezzan, and a near
neighbour, has taken upon himself to give them. Every person carrying a
letter from His Highness to the Touaricks, has invariably been well
received. His Highness is very fond of illustrating his conversation by
similes, and related a little facetious palaver which he had with a
Targhee of Aheer.
His Excellency thus to the Targhee:--"You always thought there was a
great mountain separating you from us, protecting you from our armies.
You besides always boasted of having an army of 100,000 warriors. But the
other day there came to you a bee, and buzzed about your ears, and you
all at once fled before the little bee. How is this? Where are your
100,000 unconquerable heroes?"
The Targhee thus to the Bashaw:--"Ah, ah, how amazing! it was just so."
_H. E._--"But are you not ashamed of yourselves?"
_The Targhee._--"Ah, ah, but we shall now go and fight them."
_H. E._--"Well, we shall see your courage."
The Bashaw explained to us, how the Touaricks of Aheer were put to flight
by the Weled Suleiman, whom he the Bashaw, and his master at Tripoli,
only esteemed as so many troublesome little bees. This was the affair of
the capture of the 1000 camels, when the Touaricks were carrying off the
spoils of a Tibboo village, before mentioned. These Weled Suleiman have
just joined the rest of the refugees under the son of Abd-El-Geleel. The
Bashaw is the famous Moorish commander who captured and beheaded
Abd-El-Geleel, and who has sworn to extirpate not only the family of this
Sheikh, but all the tribes subjected to his son. The Bashaw received the
appointment of Bey or Bashaw of Fezzan, for his hatred to this family,
and his services in capturing and destroying its chief. Belazee is a
fresh-coloured Moor, and rather good-looking, with a dark, piercing, and
cruel eye. He is about forty years of age and very stout. Of his courage
there can be no question, and his reputation as a military man is very
great in all this part of Sahara. Mr. Gagliuffi had instructed me
diplomatically to boast of the attentions which I had received from the
Touaricks, for observed the Consul, "If you say the Touaricks did not
treat you well in every respect, the Bashaw will commiserate you before
your face, but laugh at you behind your back, and tell his people how
happy he is (and I'm sure he will be happy) you have been well fleeced by
the Touaricks, of whom the Turks here are jealous in the extreme." Mr.
Gagliuffi also volunteered a diplomatic hit of another kind on his own
account: "My friend, your Excellency, on entering the gates of Mourzuk,
and looking up at the Castle, thought he was entering a town of the dead,
it looked so horribly dingy and desolate." I said to the Consul
afterwards, "Why did you say so?" He replied, "I am trying my utmost to
improve the city, and want the Bashaw to whitewash the Castle. He has
promised me he will do it." The Bashaw addressed me, "Think yourself
lucky you have escaped, but for the future you must be placed in the
hands of the Touaricks by us as a sacred deposit, and then if anything
wrong happens we shall demand you of all the Touaricks by force." I
thanked him for the compliment; I believe he meant what he said at the
time. But such an insulting message could not be delivered to the brave,
chivalric, and freeborn sons of the Touarghee deserts; they would trample
your letter under their feet, or spear it with their spears.
Mr. Gagliuffi and myself then went to see the troops exercised. The
commanding officer is trying to reduce them to order and discipline, and
succeeds admirably. Before he arrived, great disorder reigned amongst
them, and they were constantly found intoxicated in the streets. After
the manœuvring, we visited the commander and his staff, who were all
extremely polite. The Bashaw does not interfere with the discipline of
the army. The Turks can well distinguish, if they please, between civil
and military affairs. And it is wrong to consider the Turkish Government
and people, like Prussia and other military nations of the north, as one
great military camp. We afterwards visited the Kady, Haj Mohammed Ben
Abd-Deen, an intimate friend of the Consul. He had under his care the
Denham and Clapperton caravan, and is well acquainted with us English. I
was surprised to find the Kady quite black, although his features were
not altogether Negro. Mr. Gagliuffi says Mourzuk is the first Negro
country. This statement, however, involves a very difficult question.
Fezzan, Ghat, and other oases, contain many families of free Negroes,
some perhaps settled formerly as merchants, and others the descendants of
freed slaves. I do not think the real black population begins until we
reach the Tibboos, although Ghatroun is mostly inhabited by Negroes.
Certainly, the Negroes have never emigrated farther north in colonies.
Mr. Gagliuffi has just received by the courier from Tripoli, several
watches sent there for repair, belonging to the Sheikh of Bornou. They
were given to the Sheikh by our Bornou expedition, twenty years ago. It
is pleasing to see with what care the watches have been preserved in
Central Africa, for they looked as good as new.
_26th._--I must now consider myself recovered from indisposition. At
first, people talked so much about Mourzuk fever that I thought I
must have it as a matter of course, and felt some disappointment at
its not attacking me. Three-fourths of the Europeans who come here
invariably have the fever. I speak of the Turks. It attacks them
principally in the beginning of the hot, and cold, weather, or in
May and November. Fortunately, I am here in February. Mourzuk
is emphatically called, like many places of Africa, _Blad
Elhemah_--بلاد الحمة--"country of fever."
Amongst the Christian and European curiosities and antiquities which I
have discovered in this Mussulman and Saharan city, is the following
poetical scrap, published by myself, some four or five years ago, upon
that beautiful rock of Malta, or, according to the Maltese, _Fior del
Mondo_, "The flower of the world."
SONNET.
"Hail, verdant groves! where joy's extatic power
Once gave the sultry noon a charm divine,
Excelling all that Phœbus or the Nine
Have told in glowing verse!--Youth's radiant hour
Yet beams upon my soul,--while memory true
Retraces all the past, and brings to view
The magic pleasures which these groves have known,
When Hope and Love, and Life itself, were new,
Delights which touch the SOUL OF TASTE alone,
Taught by the many and reserved for few!
O! busy _Memory_, thou hast touched a chord
Recalling images, beloved,--adored,--
While Fancy keen still wields her knife and fork,
O'er roasted turkey and a chine of pork!"
CLEMENTINA.
I found it flying about in one of Mr. Gagliuffi's old lumber rooms, and,
being such a precious gem, I must needs reproduce it upon the page of my
travels. Who is the author, and how I came by it, I cannot now tell. I
only know it once adorned the columns of the "Malta Times," at a period
which now seems to me an age ago.
There was a wedding to-day, and the bride was carried on the back of the
camel, attended with the high honour of the frequent discharge of
musketry. In order that I might likewise partake of these honours, the
Arab cavaliers stopped before the Consul's house, and several times
discharged their matchlocks. It was a gay, busy, bustling scene. The
cavaliers afterwards proceeded to the Castle, and discharged their
matchlocks, standing up on the shovel-stirrups, and firing them off at
full gallop. But these cavaliers are nothing comparable to the crack
horsemen of Morocco. Their horses are in a miserable condition, and they
themselves ride badly. The horse does not do well in the Saharan oases.
In Fezzan he is often obliged to be fed on dates, which are both heating
and relaxing to the animal. Meanwhile the discharge of musketry was
rattling about the city, the lady sat with the most exemplary patience on
the camel (covered up, of course), in a sort of triumphal car. A troop of
females were at the heels of the animal loo-looing. The ceremony stirred
up the phlegm of the Turks, and delighted the Arabs.
In the evening I visited one of the gardens in the suburbs. The corn was
in the ear on this, the 26th day of February. In a fortnight more they
will cease their irrigation, and it will be reaped quickly afterwards. We
gathered some young green peas. The flax plant is here cultivated; the
fibres and dried leaves are burnt, and the seed is eaten; no other use is
made of it. Two crops of everything are obtained in the year, one now, in
the spring, and the other in autumn. The irrigation by which all this
cultivation is produced, rain rarely ever falling, cannot be carried on
during the intense and absorbing heats of summer. A couple of asses and a
couple of men, or a man and a boy, do all the business of irrigation.
Fezzan water is brackish generally, and the wells are about fifteen of
twenty feet deep. These are in the form of great holes or pits. The more
distant suburbs present beautiful forests of palms, producing a fine
reviving effect upon an eye like mine, long saddened by the ungrateful
aspect of a dreary desert. The atmosphere and ambient air is less
pleasing to view, presenting always a light dirty red hue, as if
encharged with the fine sand rising from the surface. The soil of the
Fezzan oases is indeed mostly arenose, and the dates are nearly all
impregnated with fine particles of sand, which takes place when they are
ripe, and very much lowers their value. But this sandy soil does not
sufficiently account for the eternal dirty vermilion hue of the
atmosphere of Mourzuk. They say its site is very low, in the shallow of a
plain, and to this cause they attribute its fever.
_27th._--Health quite restored, and got up early. There are two or three
round holes in the window-shutters of my bed-room; by the assistance of
these, when the shutters are closed, in the way of a camera oscura, all
the objects passing and repassing in the streets are most sharply and
artistically drawn on the opposite wall. Here beautifully delineated I
see the camels pass slowly along,--the ostriches picking and billing
about, which are the scavengers of the street, instead of the pigs at
Washington, (see Dickens,) and the dogs of Constantinople, (see all the
tourists,)--the women fetching water,--the lounging soldiers limping by
with their black thick shoes pulled on as slippers,--the slaves squatting
in circles, playing in the dirt,--groups of merchants, black, yellow, and
brown, bargaining and wrangling,--asses laden with wood,--the
coffee-maker carrying about cups of coffee, &c., &c. Wrote letters for
to-morrow's post, and very disagreeable to me, as announcing my tour
broken up midway.
_28th._--Post-day. The courier leaves every Saturday, but it requires
nearly forty days to get the answer of a letter from Tripoli. The courier
is eighteen days _en route_. A caravan occupies from twenty-four to
thirty days. In the route of Sockna there is water nearly every day, but
one or two places, the longest space three and a half, and four days. The
Commander visited me again this morning, as also the Greek doctor, who
calls every morning. The Major now came in. He is a young Circassian; by
birth a Christian, but kidnapped and sold to the Turks. He is a very
amiable young man, and deeply regrets that he was not brought up a
Christian. It is high time this infamous practice of selling the
Christians of the East to the Turks, was put a stop to. It is to be hoped
that Russia will atone for the wrongs which she has inflicted upon
Poland, and offer some compensation for the blood which she is still
shedding in Circassia, by abolishing this odious system of Christian
slavery through all south-eastern Europe, as in western Asia.
Notwithstanding our hatred to Russia's system, and its iron-souled Grand
Council, we Englishmen (I presume to speak for all), are willing and
happy to do justice to Russia in the efforts which she made, and the aid
she rendered the Servians, in emancipating them from the galling yoke of
Mussulman bigotry and Turkish tyranny[110]. Nicholas has a noble and
mighty mission before him, not to subjugate Turkey, or infringe upon the
liberties of Europe, but to civilize his vast empire, and the wild
countries of Northern Asia. But the Czar does not seem to understand his
destiny--or the task, more probably, is beyond his power. It must be left
to his successor, or happier times. This Circassian tells me he has not
had the fever in Mourzuk. He thinks the city healthier than formerly, and
attributes the fever to people's eating dates, and their bad living.
Dates are not only the principal growth of the Fezzan oases, but the main
subsistence of their inhabitants. All live on dates; men, women and
children, horses, asses and camels, and sheep, fowls and dogs.
Mr. Gagliuffi gives the following statistics of the slave-traffic _viâ_
Mourzuk from Bornou and Soudan:--
In 1843 2,200
In 1844 1,200
In 1845 1,100
-----
Total, 4,500
The two last years shows a diminution, and he thinks the trade to be on
the decline. But this evidently arises from the Bornouese caravan being
intercepted, or the traffic interrupted by the fugitive Arabs on the
route. There has been no large caravan from Bornou for three years. And
Mr. Gagliuffi considers the route at the present, so unsafe, as
positively to refuse countenancing my going up to Bornou this spring.
However, a couple of small slave-caravans have ventured stealthily down
twice a year, conducted by Tibboos. The principal Tripoline slave-dealers
who frequent Mourzuk are from Bengazi and Egypt. Slaves are besides
brought occasionally from Wadai; and there is a biennial caravan from
Wadai to Bengazi direct, leading to the coast a thousand and more slaves
at once. Our Consul is frequently employed in administering medicine to
the poor slaves, who arrive at Mourzuk from the interior, with their
health broken down, and often at death's door. He makes frequent cures,
but, alas! it is for the benefit of the ferocious Tibboo slave-dealer.
The Consul naturally laments he cannot buy these miserable slaves, who,
in this state of disease, are often offered at the market for five or six
dollars each. He has no funds at his disposal, or he would procure them
by some means, cure them, and give them their liberty.
This evening I called upon a Moor, an ancient renegade of the name of
Yousef, who was well acquainted with all our countrymen of the Bornou
expedition. His arm was set, after being broken, by Dr. Oudney, which he
still exhibits as an old reminiscence of the doctor. Yousef has lately
given great disgust to his good neighbours, by purchasing a new concubine
slave, to whom he introduced us, notwithstanding that he has his house
full of women and children. This sufficiently proves that Mohammedans
discountenance the unbridled licence of filling their houses with women.
One of his old female slaves, by whom Yousef has had several children,
said to Mr. Gagliuffi, "I won't speak to you any more, Consul. Don't come
more to this house. Why did you give my master money to buy a new slave?"
The Consul protested he did not. Old Yousef laughed, and drily
observed:--"When this (pointing to the new slave), is in the family way,
I must purchase another wife. If I can't keep my wives myself, I must beg
of my neighbours to contribute a portion of the necessary expense." Old
Yousef is a thorough-going scamp of a Moor.
_1st March._--Occupied in writing down the stations of the Bornou route
from the mouth of one of the Sheikh's couriers. There are now two of
these couriers in Mourzuk, natives of Bornou. The Sheikh corresponds with
Belazee as well as with Mr. Gagliuffi. Bornouese couriers travel in
pairs, lest a single one should fail if sent alone. They are mounted on
camels, and it requires them forty days to make the traverse from Mourzuk
to Bornou. I tired the courier pretty well with dictating to me the
route. It is extremely difficult to get an African to sit down quietly
and attentively an hour, and give you information. If ever so well paid,
they show the greatest impatience. Afterwards paid a visit to the young
Circassian officer. He related to me how he was captured. It was in the
broad day, when he was quite a child, playing by a little brook, and
picking up stones to throw in the water. The officer says, that in his
dreams, he often sees the silvery bubbles and rings of the water rising
after he had thrown the pebble into the brook; and, especially, does he
see the ever-flown visions of his green and flowery pastimes of
childhood, whilst he is out on duty in the open and thirsty desert, lying
dozing under an intense sun, darting its beams of fire on his head. The
kidnapper took him to Constantinople. His brother came up after to rescue
him. But the master, to whom he was sold, terrified him, by threatening,
if he should show the least wish to return, to cut him to pieces. The
barbarous threat had its desired effect, and he submitted to his fate.
This Circassian officer has still a hankering after Christians, and in
his heart is no good Mussulman. He tries to adopt as much as possible
Christian manners, and boasts of having all things like them. Such forced
renegades deserve our most sincere sympathies.
Evening--Mr. Gagliuffi and myself dined with the Greek doctor. It was a
carnival day with the doctor, and he prepared a befitting entertainment.
An Albanian Greek dined with us, who had been brought up from Tripoli by
Abd-El-Geleel, to make gunpowder for the Arab prince. When the Turks
captured Mourzuk they found here the Albanian. He has nearly lost his
sight, and is now charitably supported by the Doctor. We were waited upon
by the Doctor's servant, an Ionian Greek, and the Maltese servant of the
Consul, and so mustered six Christians, a large number for the interior
of Africa. The dinner was magnificently sumptuous for this part of
Africa. We had a whole lamb roasted. After dinner, its shoulder bones
were clean scraped and held up to the light by the Doctor, in order to
catch a glimpse of the dark future! This is an ancient superstition of
the Greeks. Besides several Turkish dishes, (for the Doctor lives half
Turk, half Christian,) we had salmon and Sardinians. This was the first
piece of fish I had seen or eaten for seven months. It was remarked when
the large caravan from Bornou comes, expected in this summer, it will
certainly bring dried fish from the Lake Tschad. In Central Africa, they
dry fish, as meat, without salt, and it keeps well. We had bottled stout,
table wines, Malaga, rosatas, and rum. We were all of course very happy,
and the Albanian sang several of his wild mountain songs. He was very
merry, and, swore he was obliged to keep himself merry, because, not
like other people, he had an affair which rankled in his breast. We asked
him what it was. The Albanian answered, greatly excited, both with his
wine and his subject, "A man killed my brother, and I have not yet been
able to kill him. The vengeance of my brother's blood torments me night
and day. I pray God to return to my country to kill the murderer." This
Albanian is an enthusiastic Greek, and wishes and prays to see his
countrymen plant again the Cross on the dome of St. Sophia. "But many of
you have turned Turk," I remarked. "Yes," observed the Albanian, "many of
my countrymen have turned Turk, and I, who am less than the least of them
all, I have not committed this folly. I can't comprehend how they could
so trample on the name of their Saviour." In short, I found the Albanian
possessed of all the fire, bigotry, ferocity and vindictiveness, for
which his countrymen are so celebrated. I encouraged him, and said, "The
Greek kingdom ought to have its bounds a little widened." The Greek
jumped up wildly at this remark, and clenching my hand, began screaming
one of his patriotic airs, and cursing the Turks, so that we became all
at once a seditious dinner-party, under the shade of the pale Crescent.
Had we been in Paris, that pinnacle of liberty and civilization, we
should all immediately have been conveyed off, without finishing our
dessert and the wine which made us such patriot Greeks, to the sobering
apartment of the Conciergerie. Happily we were in The Desert, under the
rule of barbarians. Coletti was mentioned, but I forget what was said of
him. In Jerbah, a Greek merchant protested to me, that the only way to
regenerate Greece was to cut off the head of this Coletti, as well as
all the present chiefs of parties. He observed "Another generation alone
can regenerate Greece." The merchant added, "I should like also to hang
up that Monsieur Piscatory."
It does seem a pity that diplomacy should be reduced to the most
detestable intrigues, lying and duplicity, which if any other class of
men were guilty of, they would be put out of the pale of society. But
mankind would care little about these archpriests of falsehood, were it
not for the serious consequences resulting from their works. Look at the
state of Greece now, the handicraft of diplomatists! Such is the result
of the good and friendly offices rendered to an infant state by these
sons of the Father of Lies!
At this time there are some nine hundred Albanians in Tripoli, regular
troops of the Porte, whose only occupation is lounging, lying and smoking
about the streets. There were sixty or seventy Christians amongst them,
but for some reason or other unexplained, the Bashaw sent them all back.
The report is, the Sultan does not know what to do with these Albanians,
and has sent them to Africa to decimate them. The massacreing Janissary
days are past, and we have arrived at an age of the more humane policy of
letting them die of fever on the burning plains of Africa. Perhaps France
has recommended the Porte this policy, having found it answer so well in
the experiment made on malcontent regiments in Algeria. How very humane
all our European Governments are getting! How kindly they treat their
poor troops! Who would not be a soldier, and fight the battles of
"glorious war?" But we must return to our host, who is a very different
kind of Greek. Doctors are always pacific men. The Doctor observed
laconically, "I eat the bread of the Turks, and whilst I do so I must be,
and I am a good Ottoman subject." Mr. Gagliuffi speaks Greek and Turkish
besides Arabic and Italian, and so he is at home with all these people.
It is happy for the Consul he does, for after all, Mourzuk is but a
miserable dirty place, and would kill with ennui, if fever were wanting,
some score of English Vice-Consuls.
_2nd._--The Consul received a visit from the Adjutant-Major, Agha
Suleman. The Doctor came in and was very merry with the Adjutant, who is
always trying to get himself reported sick, in order that he may return
to Tripoli. The Adjutant observed to me, whilst he drew himself up, made
a wry face, and heaved a deep sigh, as if his last, to persuade the
Doctor he was greatly suffering, "I would not go to Bornou if you were to
give me 100,000 dollars." But why should he? With what sort of feeling
could he go there? The spirit of discovery, which once stirred up the
Arabian savans to explore Nigritia, is now totally extinct both in Arabs
and Turks. I learnt some items of the pay of Officials in Mourzuk. The
Bashaw has 5,000 mahboubs per annum. The Adjutant-Major has 30 dollars
per mensem; the Doctor 25 dollars; and so on of the rest, the commanding
officer having perhaps 50 dollars per mensem. This amount of pay is
considered sufficient for expenses at Mourzuk. The officers have quarters
with the Bashaw in the Castle. Mr. Gagliuffi related a characteristic
anecdote of the ignorance prevailing amongst the Arabs as gross as that
of Negroes. Mohammed Circus (or the Circassian) was a few years ago
Bashaw of Bengazi whilst Mr. G. visited that place. The Bashaw was buying
something of an Arab, and gave him but a third of its real value. Mr. G.
took upon himself to say, "Why do you injure this poor man by giving him
but a third of the value of his goods?" "Oh!" rejoined the Bashaw, "that
is not a man, he is only a dog. Let me call him back and you shall see
what he is." Immediately the Bashaw called the man back and asked him,
"Who was the better, God or Mahomet?" The Arab bluntly answered, smiling
with conceit, "Why do you ask me such a thing? What harm do I receive
from Mahomet or what harm do others receive from our prophet? But God
kills one man with a sword, hangs another, drowns another. All the evil
of the world is from God, but Mahomet does nothing except good for us."
This poor ignorant fellow was filled with ideas of irresistible fate.
Some Arabs and Moors ascribe only the good things to God, whilst others
all things, the evil and the good. When this anecdote was being ended, a
Moor came in, and being in a disputing humour, I asked him abruptly,--
"What is truth?"
"The Koran."
"Who told you the Koran is truth?"
"Mahomet."
"And who told Mahomet?"
"God."
"How do you know this?"
"Mahomet says so."
"What did Mahomet do to make you credit his word?"
"Plenty of things."
"What things?"
"Killed the infidels, sent us the camel into Africa, planted for us the
date-palm, and worked many wonders."
"Is that all?"
"No, great many more things I cannot now recollect."
The camel, I think, was introduced into Africa about the third century.
It is a mistake to say, Mahomet did no miracles. The people in North
Africa and The Desert all relate miracles performed by Mahomet. The
Prophet, however, repudiates miracles in the Koran. In Surats xiii. and
xvii., in answer to miracles demanded, the Prophet replies by the
knock-down argument, "All miracles are vain. Whom God directs, believes;
whom he causes to err, errs." Our conversation passed to old Yousef
Bashaw, whose family the Porte has deposed. Mr. Gagliuffi observed
justly, and which so often happens in despotic countries, "Yousef
established Tripoli and its provinces in one firm united kingdom, and in
the early part of his life his power was respected and his people happy;
but as the Bashaw declined in life, he again disorganized everything, and
Tripoli was rent in pieces." Went to visit a member of the Divan. All
these despotic Bashaws consult or prompt a mute Divan. Let us hope the
Consulta lately assembled by Pius IX. will turn out something better than
these mute Divans, or a Buonaparte Senate. We were treated with coffee,
and milk, sour milk (or leben), but not skimmed, which is considered a
great luxury, and only presented to strangers of consequence.
_3rd._--We received a visit from the Bey, as he is sometimes called, the
commander of the troops, who is a very sociable kind-hearted little
fellow. Mr. Gagliuffi related some of the atrocities which were committed
by the troops previous to the commander's arrival. They killed a woman,
committed rape on a child, were never sober, and always quarrelling with
the inhabitants. They are now reduced to discipline and order. One day
Mohammed Effendi said to Mr. Gagliuffi, "I am always at work, either
making improvements in the town or exercising the troops, but who sees me
here, no one recognizes my conduct in The Desert." The Consul endeavoured
to console the desponding officer by observing, God saw him, and one day
would reward him for his good works. So we see, the Turks are a part of
the human race after all, and could lead on their fellow-creatures in the
way of improvement if their energies were properly directed. Africa could
be greatly benefitted by the Turks. Even at Mourzuk they are introducing
things which will soon be imitated at Bornou. Not being infidels, the
same objection does not exist against their innovations as against us
Christians. Even in the little matter of gloves I saw an immense
difference. The officers here wear gloves, and nothing is thought of it.
People do not say to them as they have said to me at Ghat and Ghadames,
"You have the devil's hands." Mohammed Effendi actually went so far as to
make this speech, "I shall go to England one day in order that I may
learn something." The grand occupation of the Commander now is, the
building of a guard-house within the city. This occupies his attention
morning, noon, and night; and it certainly has a good appearance. There
is not such a natty thing in Tripoli. The officer directs all the works,
and is assisted occasionally by the friendly counsel of the Consul; so
that a wonder of architecture will at last be reared amidst the
crumbling-down places of this city of hovels.
My Said returned this afternoon, bringing the baggage from The Wady. Five
more slaves of Haj Ibrahim are sick. His first slave adventure at Ghat is
likely to turn out a bad speculation. Read an article or two from
_Blackwood's Magazine_, No. CCXXX. The Consul has got a few stray numbers
up The Desert. English politics read all stuff in Desert, like what a
celebrated man was accustomed to say of his philosophy after dinner,
"It's all nonsense or worse." So is reading English politics in this part
of the world. How soon our tastes and passions change, with our change of
place, and scene, and skies! An Englishman married a Malay woman at
Singapore. In six years he lost all his English, nay, European feelings,
and became as listless and stupid as the people whose habits and
nationality he had sunken under.
Visited this evening the grave of Mr. Ritchie, who died at Mourzuk on
November 20, 1819. He was buried by Capt. Lyon, his companion in African
travel. The grave is placed about two hundred yards south of the Moorish
burying-ground; it is raised eight or ten inches above the level of the
soil, and is large, being edged round with a border of clay and small
stones. We were conducted by old Yousef, who told us the Rais (Capt.
Lyon) chose the site of burial between three small mounds of earth, in
order that the grave might be easily distinguished hereafter. Mr.
Gagliuffi, had never visited the grave before my arrival, which I
proposed to him as a sacred duty that we owed to our predecessors in
African travel and discovery. The Consul promises now to have the grave
repaired and white-washed, and I, on my part, promise, in the event of my
return to the interior, to carry with me a small tombstone, to place over
the grave, with name, date, and epitaph. If there were a thorough and
_bonâ fide_ Geographical Society in England, this little attention to the
memory of that distinguished man of science would have been performed
long ago. But our societies are instituted to pay their officers and
secretaries, and not to promote the objects for which they are ostensibly
supported by the public. The Moorish cemetery close by, is a most
melancholy, nay, frightfully grotesque picture. No white-shining tombs
and dome-topped mausoleums, no dark cypresses waving over them and
contrasting shade with light, which mournfully adorn the cemeteries of
the north coast. All is the grotesque refuse of misery! Here we see
sticks of palm-branches driven down at the head of the graves, which
sticks are driven through old bottles, pitchers, jugs, ostrich eggs, &c.,
so that at a distance the burying-ground has the appearance of a dull,
dirty, desolate field of household rubbish, and old crockery-ware. I did
not trouble myself to ask the reason of this trumpery of trumperies, but
I imagine it is to distinguish one grave from another. The cemetery of
Ghadames, where nothing is seen but stones, if it be a desert-looking
place, yet has not this trumpery appearance. I was glad to see the grave
of Ritchie lying apart from this, though in its infidel isolation. There
lies our poor countryman, alone in The Sahara! But, though without a
stone or monument to mark the desert spot, still it is a memorial of the
genius and enterprise of Englishmen for travel and research in the
wildest, remotest regions of the globe. And, for myself, I would rather
lie here, in open desert, than in the crowded London churchyard, amidst
smoke, and filth, and resurrectionists, the pride and glory of our
Cockney-land. Here, at least, the body rests in purity, the desert
breeze, which sweeps its "dread abode" barer and barer, is not
contaminated with the effluvia of a death-dealing pestilence; and though
the ardent sun of Africa smites continually the lonely grave, the bones
mayhap will rest undisturbed till reunited and refleshed at the loud call
of the Trump of Doom! unkennelled, uncoffined by wild beast, or more
ferocious man.
FOOTNOTES:
[108] Although Mr. Gagliuffi is an Austrian, a native of Trieste,
he has acquired all the English ideas of comfort, and speaks
excellent English.
[109] As a remarkable exception, some one or two _French_ papers
did protest against this wholesale burning alive of an Arab tribe.
[110] See Mrs. Kerr's translation of the History of Servia.