EUROPE AND TIMBUCTOO
All who have studied the remarkable genius of Colbert proclaim his
ideas to have been greatly in advance of his century. It will not
surprise us, therefore, to find his name among the first of those who
attempted to open the gates of Timbuctoo to Europe.
The great minister acquired a very clear apprehension of the value of
the Sudan from a report made by André Bruc, governor of the African
colonies, and he conceived the notion of reaching Timbuctoo by way of
Senegal. This plan, which received the approbation of Louis XIV., was
precisely that followed by Faidherbe forty years ago, continued by
Borgnis-Desbordes and Archinard, and finally completed in the last days
of 1894.
We shall see later on how Lieutenant Boiteux took possession of
Timbuctoo in the name of France, and how the tricolour was hoisted in
the town for the first time by one of his sailors. Now, if ever, we
might say, ‘It was written,’--for the first European to see Timbuctoo
was also a Frenchman and a sailor, Paul Imbert, who was born on the
sands of Olonne. I must add that his journey thither was purely
involuntary. He was shipwrecked on the coast of Morocco, captured
by the Arabs, and sold as a slave to a Portuguese renegade in the
service of the sultan. His master, sent on a mission by the Moorish
government, took the old sailor with him to Timbuctoo in 1670. Paul
Imbert contrived to send news of his misfortunes to Europe, but died
in captivity before it was possible to effect his release.
The third name connected with Timbuctoo is that of Mungo Park. Starting
from Gambia, he succeeded in reaching the Niger at Segu, and was the
first European to see the great river of Western Africa (1795). He
published a most attractive account of the Niger, which is doubled in
value by the solid information of the writer. His book was the point of
departure for numerous explorations into this portion of Africa in the
early part of the present century, and is still well worth reading. The
Sudan is shown at a relatively normal period, and the picture is drawn
by an interesting and competent pen.
The giant river exercised the same fascination upon Mungo Park which
was experienced by myself, and which I have attempted to describe, and
he soon returned to it with the intention of descending the river to
its mouth (1805). He was accompanied by forty Europeans--thirty-five
English soldiers, four carpenters, and an artist named Scott. This
little troop, considerably lessened in number by fever, reached the
Niger at Bammaku. I found very vivid recollections of Mungo Park
below this town. He had been well provided with merchandise, and had
displayed a generosity in dealing with the people which had deeply
impressed itself on their memories. They naturally do not speak of
him by his real name, which could have no meaning for them, and would
have been difficult to remember; but like all the early Europeans who
ventured into those parts, he was given a picturesque sobriquet, and
called _Bonciba-tigui_, ‘the man with the large beard’ (literally:
_batigui_, owner; _bonci_, beard; _ba_, large).
The natives also spoke of him at Samba-Marcalla, a charming little
town built under large and beautiful trees, upon the left bank of the
Niger, between Nyamina and Segu. The traveller spent several days
here, tempted doubtless by his warm reception and the blue shade in
which the quiet life of its inhabitants was passed. In acknowledgment
of their hospitality Park presented the mosque with a Chinese vase,
with which to adorn the summit of its minaret, and this ornament was
still to be seen in 1888. One day, the gunboats having dropped anchor
before Samba-Marcalla, their commanders, MM. Hourst and Davout, induced
the inhabitants to exchange the vase for another, and the traveller’s
gift was brought to France and placed in the Colonial Office. Learning
further that one of the companions of ‘the man with the great beard’
had died at Samba-Marcalla, our officers had the grave of the
Englishman pointed out to them, and their gunners forged a fine iron
cross, which marks the resting-place of the unknown to this day. It
bears the following inscription:--
TO THE MEMORY
OF ONE OF THE COMPANIONS OF
MUNGO PARK
WHO WAS BURIED HERE
_The Niger Fleet. November 1888._
According to a tradition transmitted to the inhabitants of
Samba-Marcalla, Mungo Park’s companions were at this time reduced to
seven.
Permission to enter Segu being refused him, the explorer went on to
Sansanding. He met with a better reception there, and was the guest of
Kounta-Mamadi, the richest merchant of the town, and grandfather of
the present chief, who told me that Park had been greatly liked by the
inhabitants. He had sold them merchandise and made little presents to
the children; a saw which had been given by him to his host has been
carefully preserved by the family.
Having journeyed hitherto by land, Mungo Park embarked upon the Niger
at Sansanding in a large, flat-bottomed boat he had had constructed;
and from there, ignorant of which of the many possible routes he had
taken to reach Timbuctoo, I found it difficult to trace him. He was
spoken of at Kabara, but he had not been able to reach that port
on account of the hostilities of the Touaregs, who attacked him at
Koriouma.
[Illustration: CROSS RAISED TO ONE OF THE COMPANIONS OF MUNGO PARK]
Mungo Park was therefore obliged to turn his back upon Timbuctoo, and
Barth found traces of him at Bamba, Bourroum, and Gao. The appearance
of the white man with the great beard and his large boat has become
a legend on the shores of the Eastern Niger, and the end of the
courageous explorer is well known. His boat was smashed upon the rocks
of the Boussa rapids, at a comparatively short distance from the mouth
of the Niger, and the brave Scotsman and his four or five remaining
companions were drowned.
* * * * *
The soldiers and considerable sums of money placed at Mungo Park’s
disposal prove how much the Nigerian countries interested England
at this time. She made repeated efforts to penetrate Western Africa
between 1810 and 1825, the most remarkable being conducted by Major
Laing, aide-de-camp to the governor of Sierra Leone. This young officer
also succeeded in making his way to the Niger, reaching it at Falaba.
He, too, was a Scotsman, as powerfully constituted and well informed as
his compatriot, and was looked upon by England as a second Mungo Park.
His government provided him with large resources, and the mission of
attaining Timbuctoo was confided to him in 1825.
His first voyage having familiarised him with the negraic countries,
Laing preferred to take the northern route in his second, and traverse
the Arabian and Berber countries. Starting from Tripoli, he passed
through Ghadames, Tuat, Oualata, and Arawan, was attacked in the desert
by the Touaregs, and reached Timbuctoo in August 1828.
I have collected fresh details concerning his stay there and his death.
Although they are somewhat at variance with the generally accepted
account, I do not hesitate to vouch for them, as they came from an
excellent source. They were communicated to me by the most learned man
in Timbuctoo, the alamany, or religious chief of the town, and grand
iman of the great mosque of Ghingaraber. He was an old man, bent with
age and almost blind, but of still reliable intelligence and well
versed in the traditions of the town. He had obtained his facts from
his uncle, Alpha Saidou, who was grand kadi and judge of Timbuctoo at
the time of the Scotsman’s stay there, and was therefore in a position
to be well informed.
Laing, who was known under the name of _El Rais_, the chief (given
him, doubtless, on account of his rank as major), presented himself
as an envoy from the English government to the chief of the town,
Osman-Alcaidi ben Alcaidi Boubakar. According to custom, the latter
offered him one of his houses as a dwelling, which, thanks to the
alamany, whose uncle Saidou had also lived in it, I was enabled to
see. The family being extinct in the direct line, the house became,
according to custom, the property of the chief of the town.
[Illustration: LAING’S HOUSE]
It is situated in a little square near the great market and the mosque
of Ghingaraber, and is surrounded by the usual shabby, dilapidated
houses and straw huts with straw enclosures. On one side of the square
an oblong mound of masonry represents the tomb of some saint, or
Oualiou. The house appears to have been one story high, and of good
size, but I found it in the process of demolition.[19] The façade
was destroyed, and the first floor, by falling in, had warned its
inhabitants that it was time to begin repairs. The masons were clearing
away the ruins, leaving the thick walls of the ground floor standing
ready for rebuilding, and the square was encumbered with bricks drying
in the sun.
The Touaregs having extorted a ransom, but not pillaged him, Laing
arrived with considerable baggage, and was able to make the usual
presents to the chief of the town. He explained that he had been sent
by his government to see the commerce and life of the city, that the
white people wished to make acquaintance with the inhabitants of
countries unknown to them, and establish friendly relations which could
only result in good to both sides. Such a task had often been confided
to him before. The second day after his arrival he was to be seen
exploring the town, taking notes, drawing great lines (plans?) upon
paper, and questioning the passers-by.
The chief of the town entered into relations with him, and visited
him pretty frequently; but the other inhabitants, great and small,
maintained a marked reserve. His questions had excited great suspicion;
and he seems to have committed the error of not taking all and sundry
into his confidence, and elaborately explaining his presence and
business to them. ‘He did not know how to gain the confidence of the
people,’ the old alamany told me. ‘He did not talk to them and amuse
them. If he had done so, he would have had friends in the town, and
they would have warned him of what was being plotted against him. Now,
every one is aware that you are neither soldier nor merchant, and we
all know that you want to see everything and hear everything and read
our books, not to do us harm, but to tell the white people the history
of the blacks. Every one comes to you, your house is far from the fort,
and you live alone with your servant. Well, if any one conspired
against you, certainly I, or one of those who know you, would warn you.’
The people were afraid of Laing and his notes and questions, and the
surname of _El Rais_ doubtless added to their fears. The unhappy man
did nothing to offend or shock the inhabitants, and no one had any
reproach to bring against him, but all unanimously agreed that the
suspicion of his being a spy had finally roused the hostility of the
people. This was evidently the real cause of his death, and not, as was
supposed, the fact of his being a Christian.
Some days before his departure Laing determined to visit Kabara, and
persisted in riding there after nightfall, in spite of the warnings
of his host as to the insecurity of the road. This last imprudence
seems to have been decisive. ‘He is undoubtedly a spy,’ thought the
inhabitants, and, urged by the populace, the notables of the town
planned the murder of the stranger. His host, the chief of the town,
was charged with his arrest. Being asked by Laing (who had decided to
return by Arawan) to procure him a guide, Osman-Alcaidi sent for the
chief of the Berabichs, a Moorish tribe encamped in the neighbourhood.
To this man, Sidi Mohammed Habeida (grandfather of the present chief),
the Alcaidi confided the anxieties of the town, and requested him to
dispose of the European, body and goods.
The witnesses are unanimously agreed upon this point, the Berabichs
did not kill Laing upon their own initiative, nor because he was
a Christian, but at the formal request of the chief of Timbuctoo.
This new version is evidently the true one; for if in certain cases
interest may compel them to disguise the truth, it would clearly have
been to the interest of the natives, in this instance, to put all the
responsibility of the murder upon the shoulders of the Berabichs, and
not charge themselves with it.
Mohammed Habeida made no difficulty about accepting a part which did
no violence to the pillaging instincts of his tribe, and Laing left
Timbuctoo under his guidance. For two days they travelled together
towards Arawan, and the unfortunate man was killed at dawn on the third
day.
Laing’s visit and the circumstances accompanying it are still vividly
impressed upon the memories of the inhabitants; for, at the instance of
England I believe, the Sultan of Morocco made an inquiry at Timbuctoo
concerning his death. At that time the authorities naturally did not
care to assume the responsibility of the deed, and would certainly
shift it on to the backs of the Berabichs. In this way the version
which made Laing a victim of the fanaticism of the desert was accepted.
One of his last letters announced that he had collected numerous
manuscripts on the subject of Timbuctoo, and these precious documents
naturally occupied the mind of the scientists and explorers a good
deal. René Caillié made inquiries concerning them, and reported that
they had been dispersed among the inhabitants of the desert. Barth
raised the question twenty-five years later, and was told that not one
remained. Lenz, on the contrary, believes that the papers and effects
are still preserved in Arawan. Since our installation in Timbuctoo,
the military authorities have made several attempts to discover the
fate of these letters from envoys sent by the chief of the Berabichs.
M. Josse, the Arabian interpreter, was especially persevering, but in
vain; the Berabichs insisted that nothing remained in their possession.
For my part, I made the acquaintance, during my stay, of an agent of
the Mossi, with whom I was at pains to be on excellent terms, and who
rendered me many little services. One evening I sent for him, and, with
air of great mystery, offered him a large sum of money if he would find
the papers of _El Rais_ and bring them to me. I assured him that no
one in the town, European or native, should know anything about it; but
in spite of all my diplomacy, I was no more successful than the rest.
Some time afterwards he assured me that the tribe possessed neither
papers nor anything else belonging to the traveller. Knowing the keen
distrust of these people, however, and the fear of punishment they
still entertain (in spite of repeated assurances), and, knowing too,
the great respect with which all written matter is regarded in these
countries, I do not think all hope need be abandoned.
* * * * *
If the first explorer to reach Timbuctoo was an Englishman, the first
to come back from it was a Frenchman--René Caillié, to wit. As was
proved by the Grand Prix of 10,000 francs offered by the Geographical
Society of Paris to the first visitor from Timbuctoo, the interest to
Europe consisted in the return.
Behold the perversity of things, or, if you will, the ways of
Providence. Mungo Park and Laing departed accompanied by the good
wishes and encouragement of their countrymen, well provided with
money, merchandise, and escort--and failed. Success was reserved for
a humble and solitary man of ridiculously small means who had been
contemptuously repulsed by the representatives of his country, and who
had scarcely a friend to press his hand at parting.
‘I was born,’ says René Caillié, ‘in 1800 at Mauzé, in the department
of the two Sèvres, of poor parents, whom I had the misfortune to lose
in my childhood. I was apprenticed to a trade as soon as I could read
and write, but it was not long before I wearied of it, thanks to the
books of travel which I read in all my leisure moments. I borrowed
geographical works; and the maps of Africa, in which I saw deserts and
unknown regions marked, excited my keenest interest. Finally, the
interest became a passion to which I sacrificed everything.’
He started for Senegal at the age of sixteen with a fortune of sixty
francs in his pocket. Of the two vessels starting on the same day for
the same port, he had the good luck to choose the one which arrived
safely; the other, the _Medusa_, made a notable shipwreck.
He disembarked at St. Louis (1816), where nothing was being talked of
but the English expeditions into the interior. He made an attempt to
join one of these, but a French officer dissuaded him and sent him to
Guadeloupe, where he obtained a small employment which kept him at
Pointe à Pitre for six months. The narratives of Mungo Park having
fallen into his hands, he returned to Senegal at the end of that time,
more absorbed in Africa than ever.
This brings us to the year 1818, and the English have in no wise
relaxed their efforts to penetrate the interior. The expedition of
Major Grey was just succeeding to that of Majors Peddie and Campbell,
and René Caillié attached himself to it ‘without appointment or
engagement of any kind,’ happy in only being allowed to start. The
Europeans were all mounted, but he had to make the journey on foot; and
if he did not share the comforts of his companions, he certainly had
his part of the dangers and sickness, for on his return he was obliged
to go back to France to recruit his health.
These hardships proved no discouragement, however, and he returned
to Senegal in a small sloop in 1824. He entered into trade upon his
arrival, and his business prospered; but this was not what he had
come for. It was not a fortune that he wanted; as he says himself,
‘Timbuctoo had become the one object of my thoughts, the aim of all my
efforts, and I was determined to reach it or die in the attempt.’
He neglected nothing to ensure the success of this great enterprise.
Realising that a knowledge of Arabic and the forms of the Mohammedan
religion was essential, he submitted to a second and severer trial.
Leaving his business, and attiring himself in Moorish dress, he went to
the Braknas Moors with the request that he might live with their tribe
and be converted to Islamism. He suffered many annoyances and much
ill-treatment, but he learned to talk, read, and write Arabic, and was
initiated into the mysteries of the Koran and the Mussulman prayers. He
then returned to St. Louis to find the means of putting into execution
his plan of reaching Timbuctoo and travelling across Africa to Egypt,
under the guise of a merchant and pilgrim to Mecca.
His real hardships were to begin now; for, instead of being encouraged
in his purpose and congratulated upon the task he had achieved, he
was received with cold sarcasm at St. Louis. Instead of the 6000
francs he asked for to buy the necessary merchandise, the governor of
Senegal allowed him soldier’s rations that he might not die of hunger,
and found him employment with a salary of fifty francs a month. ‘The
fatigue and privations I endured had perhaps entitled me to expect
something better,’ is his sole comment.
A new governor, Baron Roger, arriving in Senegal, Caillié’s hopes
revived, and for the second time he related his sojourn among the
Moors and explained his plans. This is how he tells the story of his
attempt:--
‘M. Roger pooh-poohed my project, and refused me any pecuniary aid.
This would have been a thunderbolt to any one else, but it only had
the effect of more deeply rooting my determination. I had the courage
to return to the charge, and he was then good enough to promise me
a certain sum upon my return from Timbuctoo.... Upon my return from
Timbuctoo! And if I died on the way? This idea, terrible to a man who
would leave a much-loved sister without help or resources, determined
my reply. I refused every arrangement, deciding that if I died, I
would at least leave the friend of my childhood one incontestable
possession--the merit of having done everything by myself.’
While France refused him 6000 francs, England was spending eighteen
million francs in attempting to penetrate from the western coast of
Africa. Caillié now turned to the English colony of Sierra Leone, and
at once aroused the interest of the governor, General Charles Turner.
He obtained, instead of the ridiculous employment offered to him by
a Frenchman, the direction of an indigo factory and a salary of 3600
francs. He would probably have succeeded in getting the 6000 francs
for his voyage, but the governor objected--very reasonably from an
Englishman’s point of view--that Major Laing was already _en route_ for
Timbuctoo, and he could not have a hand in depriving him of the glory
of being there first.
Caillié succeeded in saving 2000 francs, however, and was no longer
affected by the refusal. Having resumed the Moorish costume, he
converted his savings into merchandise, and set out upon his journey
(1827).
His stock of goods being too small to permit of his giving himself out
to be a trader, as he had first intended, he invented a new pretext.
‘Born in Egypt,’ he told every one, ‘I was taken as a child and made
to serve in the French army, which was then in Egypt. I was brought as
a slave to France, and my master took me with him to Senegal to assist
him in his business. He was so pleased with my services that he gave
me my liberty, and now that I am free to go where I will, I naturally
desire to return to Egypt to find my parents, and resume the Mussulman
religion.’ Thanks to his knowledge of Arabic and the prayers of the
Mussulman cult, the fable of his origin was everywhere accepted, and
his journey was made comparatively easy. He entered Timbuctoo on the
20th of April 1828, having passed by the Foota Jallon, reached the
Niger at Kankan, traversed the Bambara kingdom of Segu, and paused at
Jenne by the way.
* * * * *
As Caillié was taken for the man he pretended to be, I found it
exceedingly difficult to follow his track. All inquiries at Jenne were
fruitless, and I feared they would be equally so at Timbuctoo, for poor
Arabian travellers arrive there all the year round, and he had only
stayed fourteen days in the city. The name of his host, however, Sidi
Abdallah Chabir, one of the most important merchants of his time, was
perfectly well remembered. One of his wives had died only within the
last few years, and his son but shortly before my arrival. I saw the
house in which Caillié had lodged, and the old alamany revived some
memories of the explorer himself.
The latter had not failed to impart the history of his Egyptian origin,
his misfortunes, and his slavery in France, and I was thus enabled
to trace him. The old alamany repeated to me (with some variations)
the fable mentioned above as concerning a traveller lodged by Sidi
Abdallah. The worthy merchant, an Arab fond of remarkable stories,
had been greatly struck by this tale, and, being a pious man into
the bargain, he had been deeply touched by the religious zeal of the
young Egyptian. From all this Sidi Abdallah had concocted a narrative
which he delighted to impart to his friends, and which he accompanied
by improving reflections on the tenacity of the Mussulman faith. The
history was so often repeated in Timbuctoo that the Grand Kadi, Alpha
Saidou, noted it down as one of the curious episodes of his time. He
edited his history under the direction of Sidi Abdallah, and blackened
four sheets of paper with it. Although the old alamany had inherited a
portion of his uncle’s books and papers, this curious manuscript was
not among them, he assured me. I requested him to make inquiries of
the other inheritors of the kadi, and was then told that the papers
had been burnt in a recent fire. This explanation does not appear to
merit any great amount of belief, and one day somebody will doubtless
be more fortunate than myself. The history was probably embellished
with imprecations on the Christians, and they were therefore not over
anxious to communicate it to me.
[Illustration: CAILLIÉ’S HOUSE]
The house pointed out to me as having been lived in by the Egyptian
was situated near the market, and in the same street as the one Laing
had occupied. His dwelling, more fortunate than Laing’s, is still
standing in a very good state of preservation--in the interior, be it
understood. It is a large house, plainly indicating the importance
of the man who showed the poor traveller such gracious hospitality.
Sidi Abdallah did not live in it himself, but used it as a warehouse.
It is now occupied by one of the principal merchants of Timbuctoo, a
Moor, like Sidi Abdallah, and he too has converted it into a shop. I,
therefore, saw the dwelling under much the same aspect it must have
worn to René Caillié.
I found, surrounding the two spacious courts, ‘the little, long, narrow
and windowless rooms, serving indifferently as shop or bedroom,’ in
one of which René Caillié lodged, and in which ‘he suffocated day
and night.’ The interior was encumbered with packages and sacks of
all kinds, principally bales of ostrich feathers and ivory. Lances
thrust into the floor showed that the men of the Desert occupied those
suffocating rooms at the moment. The real proprietor of the house,
Mohammed El Bakir, had just received his annual caravan from Tendouf,
a Moorish town on the borders of the Sahara. His relations had great
troops of camels over there, and they were enabled to continue their
commerce in spite of the insecurity of the desert routes, for they
belonged to a family of marabuts possessing great influence in the
Sahara. I was on excellent terms with Mohammed El Bakir, and he it
was who furnished me with some notion of the present state of the
commerce of Timbuctoo. He was acquainted with Europeans, having
traded with them at Mogador, where it was his custom to buy large
quantities of our produce. I was surprised, nevertheless, when he
asked me for news of Paris (he pronounced it Parisse). He said he had
long known the name of the town, for the rich Moorish Jew who bought
his ostrich plumes lived there. His curiosity had been excited by the
marvels described to him by a Moor who had visited the city during the
exhibition, and he wished to know if he had not been the dupe of a
too lively imagination. I reassured him, of course, and told him the
true history of René Caillié. To risk one’s life and sacrifice one’s
interests for the simple satisfaction of seeing a new town or country
was incomprehensible to him, but he understood, nevertheless, that in
our eyes his house was the most interesting thing in Timbuctoo, and I
profited by that to advise him to keep it in very particular repair.
* * * * *
Whether it was the considerable sacrifices made by the English
Government for Laing, or whether it was owing to the great confidence
the public had in this brilliant officer, I do not know, but the
English have always expressed great contempt for René Caillié’s
success. Their disdain developed into injustice, and they disputed his
journey, his book, and his sojourn in Timbuctoo, professing themselves
completely edified when, twenty-five years later, the truth of
Caillié’s statements was confirmed by a German.
The English Government made a fresh effort to reach the Sudan in 1850.
Richardson was equipped at Tripoli with the same munificence that had
been allowed to Mungo Park and Laing, and intrusted with the mission of
reaching Lake Chad. At the request of Prussia, two Germans were added
to the party, one of whom was Doctor Barth.
All his companions having died one after the other, Barth was left to
fulfil the mission alone. After exploring the basin of Lake Chad, and
discovering the Benue, he pursued the Bournou and Sokoto route, passed
Say, crossed the valley of the Niger from south to north, and arrived
at Timbuctoo on August 29th, 1853.
His journey was greatly facilitated by his position as English
ambassador, and by the rich presents with which he was enabled to
sustain the part. His position at Timbuctoo, however, was extremely
critical. There are people still living in the city who remember seeing
Barth, or rather Abdel Kerim (‘the servant of the Lord’), as he called
himself, and I gathered some interesting details from them.
The explorer had counted upon staying at Timbuctoo with a sheikh
named El Backay, whose importance had been boasted of and greatly
exaggerated to him, and which he in turn exaggerated to Europe. The
Backays belonged to the tribe of Kountas. These Berbers, strongly
infused with negro blood, were, two centuries ago, still settled to
the south of Timbuctoo, in the neighbourhood of Kairwan. From there
they emigrated to the desert, spread along the route from Tunis to the
Sudan, and settled in Saharian Adrar, a rocky plateau to the north-east
of Timbuctoo, near the town of Mabruk. They have since drawn nearer the
Niger, and are now to be found in the valley east of Timbuctoo, on both
sides of the river.
The Backays were a family of marabuts and scholars, not warriors, and
none of them ever had the ‘opportunity of mounting the throne,’ as
Barth has affirmed. They were content to mount the pulpit, and their
learning and wisdom have been famous in the desert for over a hundred
years. The first to be mentioned in the history of Timbuctoo was Sidi
Moktar el Kabir, a man pious to asceticism, in whose eyes smoking was
an impurity. He wrote a book entitled _Taraïfa Koubra_ (The Great
Taraïfa), which is still in the possession of the Kountas, and would
be a desirable book to procure, for it contains several historical
notices, I am told.
The fame of his wisdom was the cause of his being called to Timbuctoo
in the early part of the present century. The last of the Roumas were
living on exceedingly bad terms with the Touaregs, and Sidi Moktar,
on being invited to adjust their disputes, settled the tribute to be
paid to the veiled men, and the terms to be observed by them in return.
He acted as mediator in other circumstances, and his fame and the
number of his pupils steadily increased. On his death (1811) every one
said, ‘He was a saint’; a little chapel was built upon his grave, and
pilgrimages were made to his tomb, which still stands on the dunes east
of Timbuctoo.
His son, Sidi Mohammed, maintained the family reputation, and died
in 1826, leaving several children, the eldest of whom was called
Sidi Moktar. The latter also played the part of peacemaker which had
been so well sustained by his grandfather. When the Foulbes took
possession of Timbuctoo, the populace appealed to him to intercede for
them with Cheikou Ahmadou. He succeeded in satisfying both parties
so well that the town offered him a large dwelling, the Foulbe king
overwhelmed him with gifts and attentions, and he definitely quitted
Adrar for Timbuctoo. He was consulted in all disputes between Moors
and Touaregs, all controversies between the town and its nomadic
neighbours were submitted to his judgment, and he became the recognised
arbitrator of these countries. He had no public function, and filled
no official post, but was merely a great marabut, enjoying universal
consideration, receiving numerous presents from pious people, giving
excellent lectures, and followed by many pupils from the Sudan and
desert. He, too, was a man of the pen, and composed a history of the
Kounta Touaregs and other desert tribes, which he called the _Taraïfa
Sochora_, or Little Taraïfa.
On his death in 1847, his son Ahmadi, the child of a slave, succeeded
to this honourable and lucrative post, but was ousted by his uncle. The
disputes between the two rivals irritated the Foulbe king, who was full
of reverence for the defunct, and greatly diminished the prestige of
the family in Timbuctoo. Now, the ambitious uncle was none other than
Sheik El Backay, who, having finally got the better of his nephew,
endeavoured to restore the family reputation and make himself famous by
travelling in the neighbouring countries. He was sojourning in Gundam
when the explorer reached Timbuctoo in 1853.
Barth was evidently under the impression that El Backay occupied some
commanding position in Timbuctoo. This is the only possible explanation
of the attitude he adopted upon his arrival, and his singular want of
tact which led to so many disagreeables. Contrary to custom, he visited
neither the chief of the town nor the authorities, but contented
himself with settling in one of the sheik’s houses and awaiting his
return there. The town was offended by this want of respect, and so
much hostility was displayed that the European was warned not to
venture out. This state of affairs lasted a month, and all Barth saw
of Timbuctoo was the view of the town he enjoyed from the roof of his
house.
Instead of improving, the situation became more critical with the
return of El Backay. In 1853 Timbuctoo formed, as we know, a part of
the Foulbe empire, and the local authorities had hastened to send a
message to Hamdallai, the residence of Ahmadou Ahmadou, to inform him
of the arrival of the traveller. Greatly affronted that an ambassador
should go to Timbuctoo without offering him homage or the customary
presents, without asking permission to enter one of his towns, nor even
informing him of his presence, the king sent an order that the stranger
should be taken and brought to him. The arrival of this command, with a
troop of soldiery charged to execute it, coincided, happily for Barth,
with the return of the sheik.
El Backay, greatly flattered by receiving an ambassador, seeing all
the lost prestige he could recover, and delighted to play a trick
upon the government which had crossed his ambition, formally and very
courageously took Barth under his protection. ‘The stranger is in my
hand. You must cut it off before you can take him,’ was the haughty
response he made to the envoys. The whole of Timbuctoo was confounded
by this incident. The authorities made many vain attempts to induce El
Backay to reconsider his decision, and it was finally determined to
attack protector and protected, and carry away the latter by force. The
two then quitted the town together, and took refuge in a neighbouring
camp. Backay was compelled to call the worst enemies of the city to his
assistance, and it was to the Touaregs that Barth owed his escape from
the fate of Laing and his safe return to Europe.
[Illustration: PLAN OF TIMBUCTOO]
From the day of his arrival to the hour of his departure, the explorer
lived in Timbuctoo like a prisoner. He was confined to one house with
his own and his host’s servants perpetually on guard. He was unable to
explore the town or even take an hour’s walk in its streets, and all he
saw of them were the few he passed through as, surrounded by an escort,
he left the city to take refuge in the desert from the hostility of
the populace. He only knew Timbuctoo through the eyes of his servants
and other people of that class, and that is why this portion of his
book is so deceptive and, in spite of its length, vague and empty. It
consists of copious details of his anxieties, his hopes and fears for
his life; and its few interesting passages are swamped in an ocean of
tiresome details, according to the method of German scholars. Instead
of showing us some new aspect of the Mysterious City, he rails at
his servants like a peevish housewife and entertains us again and
again with the health of his camels. René Caillié saw, questioned,
and observed an astonishing amount during his fourteen days’ stay in
Timbuctoo, and gathered an incomparably richer harvest than did Barth
in his sojourn of a month. On comparing the two accounts, one sees that
Barth’s utterances are mere amplifications of the facts acquired by his
predecessor.
After this we are somewhat surprised to see Barth, from his height of
Doctor, treating René Caillié as an ‘altogether incapable man’;[20] and
surprise turns to stupefaction when he assumes that ‘no one has been as
well able as himself to represent the town and its inhabitants in their
true aspect.’[21] It is another example of the old saying, that one may
have great learning and little wit. René Caillié has given us far more
than we could expect from a man who only knew how to read and write,
a poor fellow who had not enough to eat most of his days, and was
tormented by scurvy; while Barth on the contrary did not, in Timbuctoo
at least, fulfil the promise of his great reputation.
He had his excuses however; circumstances prevented his seeing more
of the town than its roofs, and deprived him of any knowledge of its
inhabitants. Public feeling was against him. El Backay was in revolt
against the authorities of the town and its Foulbe king, and both he
and his guest were avoided by the people. Barth lived in the society of
a stranger sheik and his brothers, the chiefs of the Touaregs, Foulbes,
Berabichs, and other people of the desert, who were equally strangers
to the town. This explains how it was that he was unable to procure
any of the literary works of the city, and remained ignorant of the
real author of the Tarik in a town in which it was known to all. He had
to be content with extracts, hastily copied from an example at Gando,
from which he composed his historical chapter (the only new thing in
his book); and he so completely confuses the history of the Songhoi
with that of Timbuctoo that, in his hands, the amusing and picturesque
Chronicle of the Sudan becomes something unutterably flat and tiresome.
We surely had a right to expect something better from the accredited
scholar who was so exacting towards one who had been educated in an
elementary school.
* * * * *
We have seen that El Backay’s house to-day is a mere heap of ruins;
this is not the case, however, with the one next door, which his
hospitality offered to Barth. This dwelling remains exactly as it was
described by the explorer, and it is to be hoped that it will be as
carefully preserved as that of René Caillié. Timbuctoo has none too
many relics of the Europeans, and, everything considered, there is no
need to look harshly on the memory of Barth. His surly disposition
and his infatuation must have caused him disagreeables enough in his
lifetime, and Europeans at Timbuctoo remember with gratitude that he
was the first to follow the course of the eastern Niger to Say, and to
clear up the vast geographical regions surrounding Lake Chad.
[Illustration: BARTH’S HOUSE]
I also found traces of Barth in his character of ambassador. On his
return to Europe he set before the English a scheme of penetration in
the direction of Timbuctoo which was based upon an exaggerated notion
of the authority of El Backay. The shorter routes, those of Algeria and
Senegal, being in the possession of France, he advocated reaching the
city by way of the Niger, starting from its mouth. He laid great stress
upon the value of El Backay’s support to an English enterprise, a view
which was the more readily accepted by the Government as the progress
France was making in Southern Algeria was causing them much anxiety.
The capture of Timbuctoo gave some curious documents into our hands.
They have not been edited, and we give them in their entirety, for they
display English plans and methods without any need of commentary.
LETTER I
LETTER FROM LORD CLARENDON TO SHEIK EL BACKAY.
Praise be to God! May He be glorified!
On the part of Clarendon, Minister to the Queen and Government
of England, to the greatly honoured and very noble Sheik,
the learned among scholars who shines by his intelligence,
Sidi Mohamed El Backay, ben Sidi Mohamed, ben Sidi Moktar El
Kounti; to whom we address our thanks and the expression of our
consideration. May God reward him! So be it!
Salutation be with you.
May God accord you His mercy and blessing with the purest of
His graces!
I would have you know that the Queen of England has heard the
report of Doctor Barth (named Abdel Kerim among the Arabs),
who visited you at her command, in your country, to renew
the friendship existing between you and us, and to make you
known to her. Barth has made known to us the goodwill with
which you received him and which can never be forgotten. You
have protected him from a faithless people who were unable to
distinguish good from evil (may God reward you for the good
actions His law recommended to you!). He has informed us of
your strength and courage, and we have felt great joy thereat.
The letters you sent by him have arrived. We have read them and
well understand what they contain. It has been a great pleasure
to us. The hopes of the English Government have been understood
by you. What we wish is to open the eyes of the Arabs of the
south to commerce and all appertaining to it, and we are now
aware that you have looked upon our mission with pleasure and
have accepted our friendship with joy.
We have given you our word that the friendship binding us shall
not diminish through the centuries, and that all that the Arabs
require of us we will do, without increase or diminishment. We
will assist them in all that they are unable to perform, and as
our government is very powerful we will protect your people who
turn to us, above all with the aid of your Lordship, who have
long shown your power and your friendship for us.
The Queen experienced great joy when she knew the benefits
with which you loaded Abdel Kerim, who was enabled to return
in peace owing to your reception and the honours with which
you surrounded him, and she sends you presents of products
manufactured in England.
These presents have been packed in cases and sent to the
Consul-general of Tripoli, who will send them on to you. God
grant that they may arrive safely and in good condition, and
that they may please and rejoice you.
We request and recommend you to say to the chief of the
Aoulemidens and the chief of the Tademekkats, that the Queen of
England has received the letters sent by them to her through
Abdel Kerim. We have all been pleased by them. She begs you
to say to these chiefs that she salutes them and sends them a
poignard and a sabre, the poignard for one, and the sabre for
the other. You will easily recognise these objects, for the
name of the recipient is written upon each.
To conclude this letter, we wish to say to you that our joy
would be great to see one of your people, above all a child of
your own house, whose visit would honour us. We wish to show
him our power, our manufactures, and many other things.
May God prolong your life and preserve you to live.
Your friend,
CLARENDON,
_Minister of the English Government_.
LONDON, _the fifteenth day of April 1859_.
[Illustration: VIEW TAKEN FROM THE TERRACE OF BARTH’S HOUSE]
LETTER II
LETTER FROM THE ENGLISH CONSUL AT TRIPOLI TO EL BACKAY.
Praise be to the one God! May God grant His blessing to him
after whom there was no longer a Prophet (otherwise Mahomet)!
To our friend the noble Lord, the very high, very learned, very
complete Sidi Ahmed Backay.
May our greeting reach him with the expression of our
consideration.
You will find in this letter an epistle from the minister
Clarendon, with a translation in Arabic. It is written in reply
to the letter received by you.
When you have read this letter _you will know that the English
Government has sent a steamer up the river that flows out of
your country, and has recommended those on board to make every
effort to reach you_. Watch for them. _We desire to unite
ourselves in friendship with the people of your country, and
make ourselves known to you, above all at Timbuctoo where you
live._ We ask God to assist us in this task because _it will
result in great good to your country and to us also_.
The son of your sister, Sidi Mohamed, and the people of his
retinue are well. He is with me at this moment, awaiting the
presents the Government is sending him, and the writings which
seal the friendship existing between you and us.
Our Government has already given Sidi Mohamed the choice
between several things. They would send a boat to take him to
them, or they would reward him here and return him to you,
or he could stay with me till the end of the winter and the
beginning of the spring, when a boat could take him to England.
Sidi Mohamed decides to return from here, and this is also
preferred by my Government, for we fear the effect of the cold
of our climate upon his health. This cold is very great, _etc._
(_Signature illegible._)
The boat mentioned never did reach Timbuctoo, nor did El Backay visit
England and see its manufactures. Lord Clarendon’s ‘great joy’ was of
short duration, and his hopes resulted in nothing.
After the departure of Barth, his protector had no leisure to give
to the plans which had been sketched between them; he was entirely
occupied in taking care of himself. The generous attitude which had
popularised him with Europe had greatly complicated his position in
Timbuctoo. His very strained relations with the Foulbe authorities, and
the suspicion with which the inhabitants regarded a _protégé_ of the
Touaregs obliged him to maintain a good deal of reserve.
The most critical period of the Sudan was now approaching, and the
Toucouleur invasion was spreading from south to north. El Hadj Omar had
marched from victory to victory, and was now menacing the Foulbe empire
(1860). Ahmadou Ahmadou naïvely sought to avert the peril by opposing
a man of religion to one who, to justify his massacres, posed as a
reformer, and Sheik El Backay reappeared on the scenes. He was exhorted
to intervene as mediator between the kingdom and the new Prophet, but,
remembering the former harshness of the Foulbe monarch, he at first
refused. Afterwards, however, he addressed a message of peace to El
Hadj, which he accompanied with several presents. For all reply the
conquering Toucouleur ironically invited the sheik to hasten with his
homage, to which El Backay responded by a satire in verse on the false
Prophet. Ahmadou Ahmadou had perished meanwhile, and the Toucouleurs
were installed in his capital of Hamdallai. One of their columns,
entering Timbuctoo under the command of Alpha Omar, pillaged the town
and sacked the house of El Backay.
After a while the sheik decided to return from the desert, in which he
had sought shelter, and at his instigation Touaregs and Kountas joined
the fray. Alpha Omar’s column was surprised by night and totally
destroyed, and the conquerors, reinforced by Foulbes, besieged El Hadj
Omar in Hamdallai. The Toucouleur peril was averted, but dissension now
spread among the troops, and El Backay quitted Timbuctoo to establish
peace. Before reaching Hamdallai, however, he fell ill at a little
village, on the right bank of the Niger, called Saradina, and died
there eight days afterwards (1864).
Abbidin, who was his favourite son, according to Barth, attempted to
assume his father’s position at Timbuctoo, but in vain, for neither
Touaregs nor inhabitants would have anything to do with him. He
then attempted a political _rôle_ in the countries of the Deltas,
and finally relapsed into brigandage; pillaging and terrorising the
shores of the Black and White Niger, under the pretext of fighting the
Touaregs. He was killed by the latter as he was making a pilgrimage to
his father’s tomb in 1890.
Such was the history of the Backays up to the moment of our arrival in
Timbuctoo. It is the story of the decline of a great and noble family
of the desert. I will mention one more somewhat remarkable episode.
Barth awoke at Berlin one morning under the impression that he must
write to General Faidherbe, the governor of Senegal, and recommend the
Backays to him in case one or other of them should require assistance.
He sent the letter, and at the precise moment of its arrival in St.
Louis, Oulad Backay had been arrested as a spy, and was on the point
of being condemned to death by a court-martial. Faidherbe naturally
acquitted the prisoner, and thus Barth’s and England’s debt was repaid.
Two of the sheik’s sons, namely, Baba Ahmed and Bai, were still living
when we entered Timbuctoo. They had returned to the Saharian Adrar, the
cradle of their family, and settled at Tached-Ait (the mountain of
stone), a ten days’ journey from Timbuctoo. All traces of the influence
their forefathers exercised over the Touaregs had disappeared, and
they were living on exceedingly bad terms with their neighbours, the
Touaregs of Air.
Ahmed, grandson of the sheik, lives at Gourbo on the Niger, and seems
to wish to restore the prestige of the family. He addressed a letter to
the French authorities, asking if they were disposed to ratify the good
relations established by Barth. He was answered in the affirmative, but
his situation is so precarious that he will scarcely be of much use to
us. A solitary Backay, Ahmadi-Alouata, occupies a modest position in
Timbuctoo, and is on the best of terms with the authorities.
[Illustration]