POLITICS AND LITERATURE
Not content with being priests, magistrates, and scholars, the marabuts
farther extended their influence over the domains of politics and
literature.
We have shown great and small hastening to the dwellings of these
learned men to seek counsel and consolation from their holiness and
wisdom, and in this manner the marabuts accustomed themselves to giving
advice without always waiting to be asked for it. These pious and wise
men ‘remonstrated, sometimes severely, with people of all classes, even
princes.’ Kadi El Akib, for example, ‘possessed a mixture of firmness
and independence which raised him above all prejudices; he expressed
his opinion to the sultan with the same frankness he employed to his
humblest subject. When he observed anything in his sovereign’s conduct
that was reproved by the Law of the Prophet’ (_nota bene_, it is always
possible to find a text in the Law of the Prophet which will command or
forbid anything, no matter what), he would resign his post and retire
to his house.’ Thus the marabuts glided into the dangerous path of
politics.
Their intrusion into the political world soon led to their being
regarded with grave suspicion, and finally caused their fall. As we
have seen, the soldierly fist of Sunni Ali weighed heavily upon those
who opposed him.
The marabuts regained their lost ground, however, under the Askias. The
founder of the dynasty, whether from conviction or expediency, showed
himself their ardent and untiring friend, and we have seen them lending
devoted support to the usurper in return, and legitimising with sacred
texts his assumption of the throne. They were kept constantly about
his person, and he consulted them in everything, even asking their
advice in matters of war. He appealed to them in all legal affairs, and
treated them, in short, as his ministers. A pamphlet of the period,
found in a library at Timbuctoo, describes the part played by the
marabuts. Its author is not a Sudanese, but is one of those Arabian
doctors who travelled about the Sudan in the reign of the famous
monarch, and whose description is unfortunately still wanting. The very
original character of El Moucheïli may serve to fill the blank, perhaps.
Born in Tlemcen in Algeria, ‘he combined a remarkable intelligence,’
says his biographer, ‘with a passion for study, and was distinguished
as much by his piety as his erudition.’ Of a bold and enterprising
disposition, and filled with zeal for the Koran, he devoted all his
knowledge and energies to the cause of fanaticism. Having gained
considerable influence with the Assembly of Notables during his sojourn
in the confederation of Tuat, he urged them to a persecution of the
Jews. Not content with degrading and depriving these people of their
privileges, he incited the populace to massacre them and destroy their
synagogues. The Grand Kadi of the Republic highly disapproved of this
violence, and the ulemas of Fez, Tunis, and Tlemcen were consulted on
the question. Two of them defended El Moucheïli, and one of them drew
up a long memorial on the legitimacy of intolerance, addressing the
hero of Tuat in the following words: ‘All honour to our brother the
zealous doctor, who alone had courage in these times of corruption
to proclaim his faith in open day, to resist abuses, and to arouse
lukewarm souls to the true religion. It is a glory to him to have
opposed with such energy the enterprises of the Jews (whom may God
crush with His scorn!). He only has been found sufficiently faithful to
awaken the people whom worldly interest has made deaf to the voice of
the Prophet.’ On the reception of this letter El Moucheïli announced
the triumph of his opinions to his partisans and commanded the
destruction of the synagogue. He put a price upon the Jews, and paid
seven mitkals (ninety francs) a head for them out of his own purse. The
massacre which followed obliged him to quit the country and seek refuge
in the heart of the Sudan, where he found shelter and a position in the
court of Askia the Great.
The Songhoi king asked him seven questions on the subject of the
reforms then occupying his mind, viz. the regulation of commercial
transactions, the suppression of fraud, the establishment of the tax
on land, the tithe upon newly conquered countries, the question of
inheritance, and the measures to be taken to ensure morality and good
manners among the Sudanese.
The pamphlet in my possession contains these questions and the answers
made to them by the Arabian sheik, which are treated as carrying all
the force of law. El Moucheïli counsels, among other things, the
creation of inspectors of markets and manners, and the verification of
weights and measures. Besides these excellent reforms, he suggested
the adoption of measures which are in every way regrettable, bearing
as they do the imprint of the severity and intolerance of which he
had given ample evidence in his campaign against the Jews of Tuat. He
advocated the most stringent regulations, generally accompanied by a
death penalty, and always based upon the most judicial and religious
arguments.
This excessive zeal and the great influence El Moucheïli exercised
over the Sudan (he is still an authority there) leads us to a subject
upon which hitherto we have not had occasion to touch, but which,
nevertheless, is of considerable importance, viz. the psychology of the
Mussulman negro.
[Illustration: THE GRAND MOSQUE OF TIMBUCTOO]
The character of the Sudanese in general, and the Songhoi in
particular, is essentially based upon a foundation of goodness and
docility, and they lack the elements necessary to produce the savage
sectarian so common to the north of Africa and Asia. The Sudanese
generally adopted the religion of Mahomet out of pure snobbishness,
because their conquerors professed it, and it reflected some prestige
upon them and gave them a claim to consideration. Once under European
rule, therefore, there would be no impediment to their conversion to
Christianity. Left to themselves, they form the type of the tolerant
Mussulman. Five centuries after the introduction of Islamism into the
Sudan we still find the fetichist’s temple standing side by side with
the mosque, even in great centres like Jenne, where the idolatrous
altars were not destroyed until 1475. Among the numerous biographies
of the saints I have never seen the intolerance of these pious
individuals boasted of nor even mentioned. In a general way, the tepid
fervour of the populace is tainted by the naïve scepticism displayed
by Sunni Ali in the very typical incidents I have already described.
They seldom observe the fast of Ramadan in all its rigour, and I have
mentioned the consumption of intoxicating liquids once or twice before.
Circumcision and the daily prayers constitute, in fact, their principal
observances of the Mohammedan religion.
Contemporary history of the Sudan has, however, revealed frequent
fanatical explosions and numerous holy wars. The curious biography of
El Moucheïli has disclosed one of the causes of these disturbances,
namely, the influence of the Arabian Mussulman, which at the present
moment principally makes itself felt by the propaganda of the sect of
the Snoussi. Another fruitful cause is to be found in the pilgrimages
to Mecca. It is, therefore, through direct, or indirect, contact
with the foreign Mussulman of the white races that the Sudanese is
transformed into a sectarian, and it is from this contact that we must
preserve him in order to maintain peace in the Nigerian countries.
Finally, and most characteristically, it is not the pure-bred negro
among the populations of the Sudan who allows himself to be led into
holy wars, but it is those people in whose veins the blood of the white
races flows, the Foulbes of Berber origin, and the Toucouleurs, who are
a mixture of the Foulbe and the negro of Mali.
* * * * *
Among the Sudanese marabuts noted as the ministers of Askia the Great,
Mohaman Koti, or Koutou, deserves special notice. With him we shall
have occasion to speak of the literary productions of the Sudan, for
among the Nigerian writers worthy of attention he is the first in date.
According to some he was a Malinka, according to others a Songhoi
born at Karamiou. His education, begun at Tindirma, was completed
at Timbuctoo, and he became the most esteemed and even tyrannical
counsellor of the great king. His authority originated in the following
manner. Askia one day distributed some dried dates among his retinue,
and Koti, newly arrived at the court, was somehow overlooked. Shortly
afterwards the learned doctor assembled his pupils and dispensed
fresh dates among them. This miracle--for the Sudan does not produce
dates--having reached the ears of the king, he immediately discerned
that Koti was marked with the divine seal. From that moment Askia gave
him all his confidence, and bestowed so much wealth upon him that he
was free to devote himself entirely to literature.
The Sudanese doctors were enabled to add the works of their own
authors to the books of Bagdad, Cairo, and Grenada, which formed the
foundations of their libraries. These writings were almost invariably
of a serious kind, scholastic and judicial treatises, and the greater
part of their productions are entirely without interest to us. A
fraction of it, on the other hand, is of the highest importance, and
contains those historical works which shed so much light upon the
obscure past of these vast regions.
Under the title of the _Fatassi_, Koti edited a history of the kingdoms
of Ganata, Songhoi, and Timbuctoo, from their origins to the year
1554 (950 of the Hegira). In spite of the most persistent research, I
have not been able to procure more than fragments of this important
work. Every one knows all about it, but no one possesses it; it is the
phantom book of the Sudan.
Koti was born in 1460, and as he survived Askia the Great by fourteen
years, and was connected with all the public affairs, his account of
this brilliant epoch of the Sudan would be of inestimable value.
The fragments we have discovered amply prove this, and their extreme
interest greatly augments our regrets. ‘Perhaps you will find a
complete copy at Dia or Korienza,’ they told me. But all I could
discover was one of the descendants of the historian, named Ahmadou
Sansarif, who exercised the functions of kadi at Timbuctoo. He was very
well informed, and revised the manuscripts which had been copied for
me, and these are the facts he imparted concerning the great work of
his progenitor:--
‘The _Fatassi_ has never been so well known as the other histories of
the Sudan because it dealt with the concerns of many peoples and many
men. Families, since grown rich and powerful, and the chiefs of various
countries, were shown with very humble origins, sometimes being the
offspring of slaves. The book caused great annoyance to many people on
this account, and those interested bought all the copies they could
procure and destroyed them. The original manuscript, however, had been
transmitted to our family. One of my great-aunts, living in Tindirmah,
had inherited it, and guarded it jealously. To avoid unpleasantness,
and at the same time preserve the book from destruction, she had it
placed in a wooden box and buried under a hillock close to her house.
My aunt was a widow, and among other charms she possessed the gift of
conversation. Her house was the centre of frequent gatherings, and when
she was asked, “What is this mound in your garden?” she always replied,
“It is Ahmadou Koti, my venerable ancestor, who is buried there.” Her
friends never failed to say a short prayer over the mound, for Koti
had left a great reputation for piety and wisdom behind him. A Foulbe
succeeded in becoming so intimate with my aunt that she imparted her
secret to him. He immediately quitted Tindirma and went to his king,
Cheikou Ahmadou, to reveal to him the existence of a complete copy of
the _Fatassi_. Shortly afterwards the king sent a troop of soldiers to
dig up the mound and discover its precious treasure; but as they were
returning to Hamdallai the bearer of the priceless volume capsized his
canoe, and the book was lost to the world for ever.’
We have seen that, in order to legitimise his holy war and his
conquests, Cheikou Ahmadou gave himself out to be the twelfth Khalif,
and rested the pretension upon an obvious fabrication professing to be
taken from the _Fatassi_. Is it not likely that the Foulbes organised
the persecution of the book with the intention of destroying the proofs
of their king’s trickery?
* * * * *
The political influence of the marabuts steadily increased under the
successors of Askia the Great, and we have shown them remonstrating
with the unnatural sons of the unhappy old man. The turn taken by their
authority is interesting and unexpected, for it represents what we
to-day call ‘public opinion,’ and we are about to see the Songhoi kings
showing themselves singularly susceptible to its influence.
‘The king, Askia Moussa,’ relates the _Tarik_, ‘having been defeated in
the countries of Lake Chad and obliged to take to flight with his army,
said to his generalissimo, “In spite of all the anguish of defeat, it
is less painful to me to endure than is the thought of what will pass
in Timbuctoo when the news of my disaster reaches there. The agitators
will gather together behind the mosque of Sankoré and say, Young men,
have you heard what is passing in Kanta? The king has been forced to
fly lest he and his army should perish. They whom he has fought would
annihilate him!--I can hear them as plainly as though I were there.”’
Other anecdotes show us the marabuts treating the royal authority with
a freedom which savours of insolence. The sovereigns, on the other
hand, display a great lack of spirit, and by the sixteenth century
the pious scholars have become a politically dangerous and turbulent
element.
[Illustration: BEHIND THE MOSQUE OF SANKORÉ]
It was this which brought upon them the Moorish exile; their
conquerors, although Mussulmans, soon saw that the mosque constituted
their sole danger. It was undoubtedly at the instigation of the
marabuts that Timbuctoo revolted against the foreign garrison, and the
pasha Mahmoud employed a soldier’s method (that is to say, a radical
one) of quelling these priests. He arrested a great number of them,
with their families, and despoiled them of their wealth, which had
become considerable. A certain proportion were massacred, and the
rest, after five months’ imprisonment, were exiled to Morocco (1594).
Their misfortunes surpassed those endured by their ancestors under
Sunni Ali, for they were dragged in chains through the desert and
incarcerated at Marrakesh. Though they had abused their power in the
days of prosperity, they did not succumb to the blows of adversity. So
far from humiliating themselves before their merciless conquerors, the
firm and haughty demeanour they maintained excites our admiration. One
of them, finding death to be near, charged his companions to deliver
a sealed letter to the sultan, which contained these words: ‘Thou art
the oppressor and I am the oppressed, but oppressor and oppressed alike
shall stand before the Eternal Judge.’
However regrettable this exile may be from its consequences to the
Sudan, it does not lack great historical interest. It is the touchstone
which enables us to test the eulogies concerning Sudanese science
and learning contained in the native documents, for we now see the
scholars of Sankoré confronted by the highest developments of Arabian
civilisation. How will they stand the ordeal? The test proves entirely
to their advantage.
Among the exiles was a learned doctor, Ahmed Baba by name, born in
1556 at Arawan, of Senhadjan[14] Berber parentage. In spite of his
youth, he enjoyed a considerable reputation in Timbuctoo at the time
of the Moorish conquest, and his brethren gave him the title of ‘The
Unique Pearl of his Time.’ His renown increased in Morocco and became
universal, spreading from Marrakesh to Bougie, Tunis, and even to
Tripoli. The Arabs of the north called this negro ‘very learned and
very magnanimous,’ and his gaolers found him ‘a fount of erudition.’
At the request of the Moorish scholars the doors of his prison
were opened a year after his arrival (1596). All the believers were
greatly pleased with his release, and he was conducted in triumph
from his prison to the principal mosque of Marrakesh. A great many of
the learned men urged him to open a course of instruction. His first
thought was to refuse, but overcome by their persistence he accepted
a post in the Mosque of the Kerifs and taught rhetoric, law, and
theology. An extraordinary number of pupils attended his lectures,
and questions of the gravest importance were submitted to him by
the magistracy, his decision always being treated as final. With a
modesty worthy of his learning, he said concerning these decisions: ‘I
carefully examined from every point of view the questions asked me, and
having little confidence in my own judgment I entreated the assistance
of God, and the Lord graciously enlightened me.’
The ancient histories of Morocco relate many other interesting details,
and the author of the _Bedzl el Mouasaha_ reports the following
utterance of Ahmed Baba: ‘Of all my friends I had the fewest books,
and yet when your soldiers despoiled me they took 1600 volumes.’ The
Nozhel el Hadj gives the following instance of the courage and pride
of the negro sheik: ‘After he was set at liberty Ahmed Baba presented
himself at the palace of El Mansour, and the sultan gave audience to
him from behind a curtain. “God has declared in the Koran,” said the
sheik, “that no human being can communicate with Him hidden behind a
veil. If it is your wish to speak to me, come forth from behind that
curtain.” When El Mansour raised the curtain and approached him, Ahmed
Baba continued, “What need had you to sack my house, steal my books,
and put me into chains to bring me to Morocco? By means of those
chains I fell from my camel and broke my leg.” “We wished to establish
unity in the Mussulman world,” replied the sultan, “and since you
were one of the most distinguished representatives of Islam in your
country, we expected your submission to be followed by that of your
fellow-citizens.” “If that is so, why did you not seek to establish
this unity amongst the Turks of Tlemcen and other places nearer to
you?” “Because the Prophet says, Leave the Turks in peace so long
as they do not interfere with thee.” “That was true at one time,”
responded Ahmed Baba, “but since then Iba Abbas has said, Leave not the
Turks in peace even though they should not interfere with thee.” El
Mansour, being unable to reply to this, put an end to the audience.’
Although apparently free, Ahmed Baba was detained in Morocco for twelve
years; the sultan had only released him on that condition, fearing the
effect of his influence on his fellow-citizens. It was not until after
the death of El Mansour that permission was obtained from his son for
the learned man to return to the Sudan. Ahmed Baba then set out for the
country to which he had so ardently desired to return, and of which
he never spoke without tears in his eyes. The following verses were
written by him in his exile:--
‘O thou who goest to Gao, turn aside from thy path to breathe my name
in Timbuctoo. Bear thither the greeting of an exile who sighs for the
soil on which his friends and family reside. Console my near and dear
ones for the deaths of their lords, who have been entombed.’
The principal marabuts of Marrakesh formed him a guard of honour at his
departure, and, at the moment of farewell, one of them seized Ahmed
Baba by the hand and saluted him with the following sûra from the holy
book: ‘Certainly he who has made the Koran for thee shall lead thee
back to thy point of departure’--a customary address to a traveller in
wishing him a safe return. On hearing these words, the sheik abruptly
withdrew his hand, exclaiming, ‘May God never bring me back to this
meeting, nor make me return to this country!’
He reach Timbuctoo in safety, and died in 1627.[15] A man of great
learning and a prolific writer, the names of twenty of his books have
been handed down to us. Except for an astronomical treatise, written in
verse, and some commentaries on the holy texts, his books are chiefly
elucidations of the law and the sciences he professed, and prove that
he was above everything a jurist. Two of his works alone possess
general interest; they have been preserved, happily, and I was enabled
to bring copies of them away with me. One is entitled the _Miraz_, and
is a little book upon the different negraic peoples, written by Ahmed
Baba in exile, with a view to making the Sudanese populations known to
the Moors. The other is _El Ibtihadj_, a large biographical dictionary
of the Mussulman doctors of the Malekite sect; in it Ahmed Baba carried
on the famous work of Ibn Ferhoun, and made it a continuation of the
latter’s _Dibadje_. The learned biographer added to it the lives of all
the scholars whom Ibn Ferhoun had not mentioned. Ahmed Baba completed
his book in 1596, and it had such a great success in both northern and
negraic Africa that the author was obliged to publish a popular edition
containing the principal biographies only.[16]
It is partly owing to the _Ibtihadj_ that it has been possible to
reconstruct the intellectual past of Timbuctoo, and for this reason the
name of Ahmed Baba deserves to be held in pious memory by our savants,
as it is by those of the Arabian countries of Northern Africa. To this
day his name represents to the latter every effort made by the Sudan to
attain the intellectual level of the Mussulman world; so much so, in
fact, that any Sudanese work of unknown parentage is attributed to him.
The family of Ahmed Baba is not yet extinct, and I found some of
his descendants living near the mosque of Sankoré in a house of
considerable size, which had been, I was told, the home of their
ancestor. One of his great-great-grandchildren, Ahmadou Baba Boubakar,
is kadi, and enjoys a considerable reputation for learning; the other,
Oumaro Baba, lives by making copies of books, which he executes in a
very beautiful handwriting. The family religiously preserve a chair
which had belonged to their glorious progenitor, to whom it had been
presented by his liberator, the Sultan El Zidan. A curious family
tradition is connected with this venerated piece of furniture. On the
occasion of the marriage of a member of the family, the bridegroom is
permitted to seat himself in this chair on the day of his nuptials.
It is hoped, they told me, that some of the great qualities of the
illustrious sheik will fall upon the husband and his descendants.
That sixteenth century, which we saw end so disastrously for the
marabuts, formed the apogee of Timbuctoo’s scientific and literary
grandeur. The wholesale arrest and exportation of her scholars proved
a fatal blow to the university of Sankoré. The decline of learning, as
of everything else, set in with the Moorish occupation, and yet the
greatest work of all the literature of the Sudan was produced in the
first days of its twilight, namely, that _Tarik é Soudan_ (the History
of the Sudan) which we have so often had occasion to mention.
The Orientalists have long been on the watch for this precious book,
whose existence had been signalled to them from Tripoli, Algeria, and
Morocco, and which had been unanimously attributed to Ahmed Baba.
[Illustration: ORATORY OF SIDI YAIA]
The explorer Barth, who was the first to reveal some of its fragments,
confirmed this error. How could a man so well informed on Arabian
subjects be so completely deceived? The very extracts collected by him
refute this paternity, for they cite Ahmed Baba as an authority. But
the learned German is not to be embarrassed by such a trifle. ‘It is
the custom of these Arabs,’ he observes, ‘to quote themselves.’
If he had read the entire book with more attention, he would have seen
that the date--year, month, and day--of Ahmed Baba’s death is mentioned
by the author, and that elsewhere he gives a very circumstantial
account of himself and his belongings. His name is Abderrahman (ben
Abdallah, ben Amran, ben Amar) Sadi el Timbucti, and he was born at
Timbuctoo (the ‘object of his affections’), of one of those families
in which science and piety are transmitted as a patrimony. In
mentioning the death of an illustrious professor, he observes that he,
Abderrahman, was his pupil; and from this we may gather that his youth
was spent in study. He arrived at the age of manhood somewhere between
1625 and 1635, at a time when the power of the pashas of Timbuctoo was
on the wane. The Moors had intermarried with the native populations,
and, instead of persecuting the sheiks as formerly, they protected
them, and made use of them when they were in need of intelligent
and devoted men. We can see with what consideration a learned man
like Abderrahman Sadi was treated; and the account of his journey to
Massina and the regions of the Upper Niger shows the high reputation he
enjoyed, not only in Timbuctoo, but in all the countries which shared
the intellectual life of that city. Wherever he went he was received
with joy, covered with marks of respect, and overwhelmed with presents.
In 1631 he was nominated iman of the mosque of Jenne. Deprived later
of the honour by the kadi of the town, ‘a man who rejoiced in exactions
and injustice,’ he returned to Timbuctoo, where society consoled him
for his mortification by the most heartfelt marks of sympathy. He
relates that when he visited the kadi of this city, ‘he arose from his
seat as soon as he saw me, and, taking me by the hand, he seated me
upon the chair he had just vacated.’
Abderrahman Sadi lived sometimes at Timbuctoo and sometimes at Jenne,
being employed on negotiations and missions by the pashas, and engaged
as secretary to one of their number. He also occupied his time in
giving lectures and holding conferences, and, above all, he undertook
the great historical work which embraced all the countries of the
Niger. Thanks to his voyages, his official functions, and his personal
position, he had access to all existing documents, so many of which
have disappeared in the toil and tumults of centuries. This work,
to which he consecrated the last years of his life, is inestimably
precious.
The _Tarik é Soudan_ is conceived upon a perfectly clear and logical
plan, according to the most correct rules of literary composition.
Nothing is lacking, not even a preface, which I will quote because
it shows, among other things, the very clear, perhaps exaggerated,
estimate the author had of the decadence of the empire:
‘Praise be to God whom the weight of a pearl upon the earth does not
escape. May prayer and salvation be with the Master of the first and
last, our Lord Mohammed. We know that our ancestors took pleasure in
mentioning the companions of the Prophet and the saints, the sheiks and
eminent kings of their country, with their lives, their edifices, and
the great events of their reigns. They have told us all that they have
seen, or heard, of the times extending behind us.
‘As for the present time, no one is to be found to take an interest in
these things or follow the path traced by their ancestors. Witnessing
the decline of this science (history), so precious on account of the
instruction it offers to mankind, I have implored the assistance of
God in writing down all that I have read, seen, or heard concerning
the kings of the Sudan and the Songhoi people, and in relating their
history and the events connected with their expeditions of war. I shall
speak of Timbuctoo and of its foundation, of the princes who have
wielded the power of that city, I shall mention the learned and pious
men who dwelt therein, and I shall continue this history to the close
of the dominion of the sultans of Morocco.’
After this prelude he opens his history at the earliest date known to
him, and notices the origin of the Songhoi kingdom, the founding of
Jenne and Timbuctoo, and of the empires of Ganata and Mali. He rapidly
and clearly familiarises the reader with the principal towns and
peoples which are to figure in his narrative, and he enters fully into
his subject with Sunni Ali. We are taken as far as the year 1653, and
given an excellent idea of Foulbes, Touaregs, Mossi, and Ouolofs by the
way. He dilates upon Morocco and the kingdom of Massina, adds a series
of biographies of saints and scholars, and appends his own _curriculum
vitæ_.
He does not consider his work ended with the task he set himself to
do, however, and the historian takes up the pen of the annalist. ‘What
shall happen hereafter I will relate in the same manner as that which
is past, for as long as I shall be alive,’ says the last page of the
_Tarik_. An appendix enumerates all the events until 1656, which we may
take to have been the year of his death.
Such is the plan of the important work which served as my charming
and picturesque guide through the Sudan. It forms, with the exception
of the holy writings, the favourite volume of the negro, and is known
to the furthest extremity of western Africa, from the shores of the
Niger to the borders of Lake Chad. Barth discovered fragments of it at
Gando, and I heard it spoken of in Senegal. I found an excellent copy
in Jenne, and had a duplicate made from it, which was corrected from an
example at Timbuctoo, so that we possess the book in as complete a form
as possible.[17]
Its style is very simple and clear, entirely lacking those literary
artifices so much in vogue among the Arabs; and the author displays an
unusual conscientiousness, never hesitating to give both versions of a
doubtful event. His biography of the great infidel, Sunni Ali, shows
him to be sufficiently impartial, and his book is above everything
remarkable for the admirable philosophy (Islamic, be it understood)
pervading it. It is a work of elevated morals, and is particularly
adapted to exercise a happy influence upon the negraic mind; for
Abderrahman is not content with a mere narration of events--he explains
them, and that without having recourse to the convenient fatalism
of the Mussulman who says of a calamitous event, ‘It was written.’
He accounts for incidents as being the reward of God when they are
fortunate, and as the punishment of such-and-such a crime when they are
disastrous. Severe towards all infractions of the divine law by kings
and humble alike, and sternly stigmatising all cruelty, he relates
every good action with obvious pleasure, and exalts all forms of
courage, especially the civic. The whole book is a collection of active
morals, and is one of the most charming of its kind, for fables,
marvels, and miracles are agreeably intermingled with real events.
I will remark farther that the _Tarik_ is to this day the Hozier of
the Sudan. In addition to the attractions to be found in its pages,
it contains a charm which entirely escapes the Sudanese, and which we
alone are privileged to taste, viz. the _naïveté_, good-nature, and
delicious sincerity which pervade the book. Like Homer, Abderrahman
sometimes wanders astray, pen in hand. Side by side with the gravest
events he mentions that ‘a white crow appeared from the 22nd of Rebia
to the 28th of Djoumada, on which day the children caught and killed
it.’ Elsewhere in the narratives of his voyage to Massina, one of his
hosts gave him his daughter in marriage. He was fifty years of age at
the time, and in possession of several other wives. Not content with
imparting the event to posterity, he adds, ‘My union with Fatima was
concluded on the twelfth day of Moharrem, 1645, but the marriage was
not consummated until Friday the sixteenth.’ I believe he would have
given us his washing-bills if the use of body linen had been familiar
to the Sudanese. His book admirably reflects the life and mind of the
Sudan of yesterday. One enjoys from its pages the delicate repasts
offered by Homer, Herodotus, and Froissard, and it is for this reason I
have called the _Tarik_ the _chef-d’œuvre_ of Sudanese literature.
I found and brought away from Timbuctoo other historical works composed
at later date, upon the model of the _Tarik_. One of them is called
the _Diwan el Moulouk, fi Salatin es Sudan_ (Divan of Kings, a book on
the Sultans of the Sudan), and narrates the events occurring between
1656 and 1747; the name of the author is unknown. Another book, on
the contrary, has no title, but is known to us by the name of its
author, Mouley Rhassoun. He resumes the _Diwan_ from the last date
given in its pages and carries it up to the year 1769, so that we are
well instructed up to the beginning of the nineteenth century. Other
documents and oral traditions permit us to reconstruct the order of
dates and events, and, in its broad outlines at least, the whole of the
Sudanese past is known to us.
[Illustration: A SUDANESE SCENE: A READING IN THE STREET]
Although these two books are precious for their historical value, they
entirely lack the literary merits which charm us in the _Tarik_.
Intellectual decadence has made rapid strides since the eighteenth
century, and the author of the _Diwan_ states in his first pages:
‘The men of my generation have arrived at the point where their
intellects possess nothing. As for the old men, those who know the
deeds of their ancestors are few and far between, and those possessing
any intelligence at all are equally rare. When I question them
concerning what is passing in the town, they are incapable of making a
response of any interest.’
His narrative reveals the fact that he himself was betrayed into
the errors he deplores. His style is full of faults, the pages are
encumbered with repetitions, and the interest of the narrative
gradually declines. The work of Mouley Rhassoun is still more feeble,
consisting entirely of dry records and obituary notices.
‘Why did they not write more books and abandon records?’ was the
question I asked the marabuts at Timbuctoo. ‘We have no men among us
clever enough to do so,’ they answered. ‘Nor can we devote ourselves
exclusively to science; we cannot buy books nor travel to complete
our learning in Cairo, Fez, or elsewhere, for to-day we are the
poorest people in the country. Formerly the people noted the most
uninteresting things; they counted the number of days on which rain
fell in winter; they mentioned that such-and-such a person was going
to marry so-and-so. For Ahmed Baba had taught the importance of the
science of facts and dates.[18] When the town was rich and every one
sought to please the marabuts, they were well clothed and fed, they
could give themselves to meditation and read books and write them. But
for the last hundred years there have been nothing but wars and ruin.
We have only known peace since the arrival of the French. We marabuts
have to run about right and left to procure a livelihood, the education
of children brings us in so little. Sometimes we are asked to write
talismans and to copy books, but that does not give us sufficient to
live upon. Many are obliged to devote themselves to commerce; and,
absorbed by the care of not dying of hunger, how can they find time to
write?’
* * * * *
I have shown the town of yesterday, Timbuctoo the great, under all its
aspects.
Let us now allow our imaginations to be carried back to the days of its
splendour. Let us picture the caravans of Morocco, Tuat, and Tripoli
travelling for weeks and months across that immensity of sands ‘where
the very birds lose themselves.’ The sun blazes fiercely in the flaming
sky, the skin cracks, and the lips are parched. All the water to be
had is warm and impure, and even then cannot be procured in sufficient
quantities. A scaly viper occasionally crosses the route, and at long
intervals the swift flight of an antelope is seen.
For days and months nothing rejoices the eye save the deceitful vision
of the mirage, until Taoudenni, the great halting-place, the city of
salt, has been reached.
One morning three little black spots show upon the burning horizon.
The camels cease to grumble, they roar; and, as the three minarets grow
clearer, Timbuctoo displays her majestic form. Behold her gardens, her
palm-trees, and her gleaming waters! The town is three times as large
as it is to-day, the streets are fresh and blue under the shade of
the great trees, and they seethe with the life of its fifty thousand
inhabitants.
In place of the solitude, abandonment, and misery of to-day, it
presents the traveller with a satiety of everything desirable. With
abundance of water and shade, it represents the saving help of the word
of God, the charm of the word of man, the wealth of gold and ivory, the
sweetness of honey and a profusion of smiles.... I have been told that
men went temporarily mad upon seeing it for the first time.
Can we not understand how it was that the men of Tripoli, Tunis,
Algeria, and Fez, having experienced its pleasures for one day only,
have celebrated the splendours of Timbuctoo to their last hour, and how
it was that their narratives, reaching Europe, gave birth to the legend
of the fabulous city?