of Berlin upon geography, had already had some experience of African
travel, when, in 1849, he learned that Mr. James Richardson had planned
an expedition from London to Central Africa, with the view of opening up
the Soudan to European commerce, and substituting for the cruel
slave-trade the legitimate enterprise of working the natural riches of
the country. Dr. Barth obtained permission to accompany it, and with
another volunteer, also a German, named Overweg, he repaired to
head-quarters. The expedition was authorized and supported by the
British Government. It met, therefore, with no preliminary difficulties;
and we may begin our summary of its adventures at Tripoli, whence it
started for the south on the 24th of March, 1850. Entering the Fezzan,
it crossed the rocky and elevated plateau known as the Hammada, and
through fertile wadys, or valley-basins, separated by precipitous ridges
and broad wastes of sand, made its way to Mourzouk, the capital, situated
in a sandy plain, where agricultural labour is possible only under the
shelter of the date-palms. The town has no rich merchants, and is not so
much a commercial depôt as a place of transit. For Dr. Barth and his
companions it was, however, the first stage of their journey, and,
indeed, their true point of departure. They made all haste, therefore,
to leave it, and on the 13th of June entered upon their great
undertaking. On the 25th, after an unavoidable delay, they quitted
Tasua, crossed a considerable mass of sand-hills, and descended into a
more agreeable district, where the heights were crowned by tamarisk
trees, each height standing alone and isolated, like sentinels along the
front of an army. This pleasant variety of scenery did not last long,
however; they came again upon a soil as rocky as that of the Hammada, and
met with an alternation of green valleys and sterile promontories,
similar to that which they had explored before they reached Mourzouk.
They had reached the Wady Elaveu, a huge depression running north and
south, when, at a distance of two hundred yards from their camp, they
discovered a pond, forming a centre of life in that solitary region.
Everybody hastened to enjoy a bath; a crowd of pintados and gangas
hovered, with bright-coloured wings, above the laughing, frolicking
company, waiting until they could take their places. While in this
vicinity the travellers were disturbed by the conduct of some Towaregs,
who had been engaged to conduct them to Selompih. Eventually, some
slight change was made in the plans of the expedition, which, it was
determined, should go on to Ghat, and remain there for six days; while
the Towaregs, on their part, undertook to set out immediately afterwards
for the Asben. Striking into the valley of Tanesof, they saw before
them, revelling in the glow and gleam of the sunset, the Demons’
Mountain, or Mount Iniden; its perpendicular summit, adorned with towers
and battlements, showed its white outlines vividly against a dark-blue
sky. Westward, the horizon was bounded by a range of sand-hills, which
the wind swept like a mighty besom, filling the air with sharp, gritty
sand, and covering the entire surface of the valley.
On the following morning, their course carried them towards an enchanted
mountain, which the wild legends of the natives have invested with
picturesque interest. In spite of the warnings of the Towaregs, or
perhaps because they had cautioned Dr. Barth not to risk his life in
scaling that palace of the evil spirits, he resolved on attempting the
sacrilegious enterprise. Unable to obtain guides, neither threats nor
bribes prevailing over their superstitious terrors, he set out alone, in
the belief that it had been formerly a place of religious worship, and
that he should find there either sculptures or curious inscriptions.
Unfortunately, he took with him no provisions but some biscuits and
dates, and worse food cannot be imagined where there is a want of water.
Crossing the sand-hills, he entered upon a bare and sterile plain, strewn
with black pebbles, and studded with little mounds or hillocks of the
same colour. Then he followed the bed of a torrent, its banks dotted
with herbage, which offered an asylum to a couple of antelopes. Anxious
for the safety of their young, the timid animals did not move at his
approach. Affection inspired them with courage; they raised their heads
boldly, and waved their tails. The enchanted palace seemed to recede as
he advanced; finding himself in front of a dark deep ravine, he changed
his course, only to find the passage barred by a precipice. Under the
glare and glow of a burning sun he undauntedly pursued his way, and at
last, spent with fatigue and exertion, reached the summit, which was only
a few feet wide, and could boast neither of sculptures nor inscriptions.
From so lofty a watch-tower the prospect was necessarily extensive; but
on surveying the plain below with anxious glance, Dr. Barth failed to
detect any sign of the caravan. He was hungry and athirst; but his dates
and biscuit were not eatable, and his supply of water was so limited that
he durst not indulge himself with more than a mouthful. Feeble and spent
as he was, to descend was imperative; he had no water left when he once
more stood upon the plain. He dragged his weary limbs onward for some
time, but at length was forced to own to himself that he did not know the
direction he ought to take. He fired his pistol; but it elicited no
reply. Wandering further and further from the route, he came upon a
small grassy oasis, where some huts had been constructed of the branches
of the tamarisk. With hopeful heart he hurried towards them; they were
empty. Then in the distance he saw a long train of loaded camels
ploughing their slow way through the sand; no, it was an illusion!—the
illusion of fever. When night fell, he descried a fire gleaming redly
against the darkened sky; it must be that of the caravan! Again he fired
his pistol, and again there was no answer. Still the flame rose steadily
towards heaven, and seemed to beckon him to a place where he should find
rest and safety; but he was unable to profit by the signal. He fired
again; no answering sound came forth from the silence of the mysterious
night, and Dr. Barth, on his knees, entrusted his life to the Divine
Mercy, and waited and watched for the dawn of day. The dawn came, as it
comes to all God’s creatures, whether rich or poor, happy or
wretched—comes with a blessing and a promise that are too often accepted
without thought or emotion of gratitude; the dawn came, and still the
calm of the desert remained unbroken. He loaded his pistol with a double
charge, and the report, travelling from echo to echo, seemed loud enough
to awaken the dead; it was heard by no human ear but his own. The sun,
for whose beams he had prayed in the night-watches, rose in all its
glory; the heat became intense; slowly the belated wayfarer crawled along
the hot sand to seek the scanty shelter afforded by the leafless branches
of the tamarisk. At noon there was scarcely shade enough to protect even
his head, and in an agony of thirst, he opened a vein, drank a little of
his own blood, and lost all consciousness. When he recovered his senses,
the sun had set behind the mountain. He dragged himself a few paces from
the tamarisk, and was examining the dreary level with sorrowful eyes,
when he suddenly heard the voice of a camel. Never had he listened to
music so delightful! For twenty-four hours had his sufferings been
prolonged, and he was completely exhausted when rescued by one of the
Towaregs of the caravan who had been sent in search of him.
The caravan spent six days in the double oasis of Ghat and Barakat, where
crops of green millet, taking the place of barley and rye, indicated the
neighbourhood of Nigritiá. The gardens were neatly fenced and carefully
cultivated; turtle-doves and pigeons cooed among the branches; the clean,
well-built houses were each provided with a terraced roof. Dr. Barth
observed that the male inhabitants worked with industry and intelligence;
as for the women, almost every one had a babe on her shoulders, and
children swarmed by the wayside. As a whole, the population was far
superior, physically and morally, to the mixed, hybrid race of the
Fezzan.
They left the gracious and grateful oasis to plunge into the desert, a
chaos of sandstone and granite rocks. On the 30th of July, they reached
the junction-point of two ravines which formed a sort of “four-ways”
among these confused masses. The wady which crossed their route was
about sixty feet broad, but, at a short distance, narrowed suddenly into
a defile between gigantic precipices upwards of a thousand feet in
height—a defile which in the rainy season must be converted into a
veritable cataract, to judge from an excavated basin at the mouth, which,
when Dr. Barth and his companions passed, was full of fresh and limpid
water. This “four-ways,” and these defiles, form the valley of Aguéri,
long known to European geographers by the name of Amaïs.
The unpleasant intelligence now arrived that a powerful chief, named
Sidi-Jalef-Sakertaf, projected an expedition against their peaceful
caravan. Fortunately, it was only a question of the tribute which, by
right of might, the Towaregs levy from every caravan that crosses the
desert. Sidi-Jalef-Sakertaf was pacified; and the enthusiasts went on
their way through sterile valleys and frowning defiles that would have
daunted the courage of any but a votary of science and adventure.
They next arrived at Mount Tiska, which is six hundred feet in height,
and surrounded by numerous lesser cones. It forms a kind of geological
landmark; for the soil, hitherto so broken and irregular, thenceforward
becomes smooth and uniform, while rising gradually, and the vast plain
stretches far beyond the limit of vision without anything to interrupt
its arid monotony. A two days’ journey brought our travellers to the
well of Afelesselez. It is utterly wanting in shade; only a few clumps
of stunted tamarisks grow on the sandy hillocks; but, desolate as it is
and uninviting, the caravans resort to it eagerly, on account of its
supply of fresh water.
Sand; stones; little ridges of quartzose limestone; granite mixed with
red sandstone or white; a few mimosas, at intervals of one or two days’
march; abrupt pinnacles breaking the dull level of the sandstones; dry
and bushless valleys—such were the features of the country through which
Dr. Barth and his companions wearily plodded. Herds of buffaloes,
however, are numerous; as is also, in the higher ground, the _Ovis
tragelaphis_.
On the 16th of August the travellers, while descending a rocky crest
covered with gravel, came in sight of Mount Asben. The Asben or A’ir is
an immense oasis, which has some claim to be considered the Switzerland
of the Desert. The route pursued by Dr. Barth on his way to Agadez
traversed its most picturesque portion, where, almost every moment, the
great mountain revealed itself, with its winding gorges, its fertile
basins, and its lofty peaks.
Agadez is built on a plain, where it seems to lament that the day of its
prosperity has passed. At one time it was the centre of a considerable
commerce; but, since the close of the last century, its population has
sunk from sixty thousand to seven or eight thousand souls. Most of its
houses lie in ruins; the score of habitations which compose the palace
are themselves in a deplorably dilapidated condition; of the seventy
mosques which it previously boasted only two remain. The richer
merchants shun the market of Agadez, which is now in the possession of
the Touats, and supported by small traders, who do a little business in
the purchase of millet when the price is low.
The day after his arrival, Barth repaired to the palace, and found that
the buildings reserved for the sovereign were in tolerably good repair.
He was introduced into a hall, from twelve to fifteen yards square, with
a low daïs or platform, constructed of mats placed upon branches, which
supported four massive columns of clay. Between one of these columns and
the angle of the wall was seated Abd-el-Kadir, the Sultan, a vigorous and
robust man of about fifty years old, whose grey robe and white scarf
indicated that he did not belong to the race of the Towaregs. Though he
had never heard of England, he received Dr. Barth very kindly, expressed
his indignation at the treatment the caravans had undergone on the
frontier of A’ir, and, by-and-by, sent him letters of recommendation to
the governors of Kanó, Katséna, and Daoura. Dr. Barth remained for two
months at Agadez, and collected a number of interesting details
respecting its inhabitants and their mode of life. Thus, he describes a
visit which he paid to one of its more opulent female inhabitants. She
lived in a spacious and commodious house. When he called upon her, she
was attired in a robe of silk and cotton, and adorned with a great number
of silver jewels. Twenty persons composed her household; including six
children, entirely naked, their bracelets and collars of silver excepted,
and six or seven slaves. Her husband lived at Katséna, and from time to
time came to see her; but it appears that she scarcely awaited his visits
with the loving expectancy of a Penelope. No rigid seclusion of women is
insisted upon at Agadez. During the Sultan’s absence, five or six young
females presented themselves at Dr. Barth’s house. Two of them were
rather handsome, with black hair falling down their shoulders in thick
plaits, quick lively eyes, dark complexion, and a toilette not wanting in
elegance; but they were so importunate for presents, that Dr. Barth, to
escape their incessant petitions, shut himself up.
* * * * *
Barth rejoined his companions in the valley of Tin-Teggana. On the 12th
of December they resumed their march, crossing a mountainous region,
intersected by fertile valleys, in which the Egyptian balanite and indigo
flourished, and finally emerging on the plain which forms the transition
between the rocky soil of the desert and the fertile region of the
Soudan—a sandy plain, the home of the giraffe and the antelope leucoryx.
By degrees it became pleasantly green with brushwood; then the travellers
caught sight of bands of ostriches, of numerous burrows, especially in
the neighbourhood of the ant-hills, and those of the Ethiopian
orycteropus, which have a circumference of three yards to three yards and
a half, and are constructed with considerable regularity.
The wood grew thicker, the ground more broken, the ant-hills more
numerous. As the travellers descended an abrupt decline of about one
hundred feet, they found the character of the vegetation entirely
changed. Melons were abundant; the dilon, a kind of laurel, dominated in
the woods; then appeared an euphorbia, a somewhat rare tree in this part
of Africa, in the poisonous juice of which the natives steep their
arrows; parasites were frequent, but as yet lacked strength and pith; in
a pool some cows were cooling themselves in the shades of the mimosas
that fringed its banks; the thick herbage flourishing along the track
impeded the progress of the camels, and against the horizon were visible
the fertile undulating meads of Damerghue. Continuing their journey,
they came upon a scattered village, where, for the first time, they saw
that kind of architecture which, with some unimportant modifications,
prevails throughout Central Africa. Entirely constructed of the stems of
the sorghum and the _Asclepias gigas_, the huts of Nigritiá have nothing
of the solidity of the houses of the A’ir, where the framework is formed
of the branches and trunks of trees; but they are incontestably superior
in prettiness and cleanliness. The traveller, in examining them, is
impressed by their resemblance to the cabins of the aborigines of Latium,
of which Vitruvius, amongst others, has furnished a description. More
remarkable still are the millstones scattered round the huts; they
consist of enormous panniers of reeds, placed on a scaffolding two feet
from the ground, to protect them from the mice and termites.
On their arrival at Tagilet, the travellers separated. Mr. James
Richardson undertook the road to Zindu, Overweg that to Marádi, and Barth
to Kanó. Kúkáwa was named as the place, and about the 1st of April as
the date, of their reassembling. Our business here is with Dr. Barth.
At Tasáwa he gained his first experience of a large town or village in
Negroland proper; and it made a cheerful impression upon him, as
manifesting everywhere the unmistakable marks of the comfortable,
pleasant sort of life led by the natives. The courtyard, fenced with a
hedge of tall reeds, excluded to a certain degree the gaze of the
passer-by, without securing to the interior absolute secrecy. Then, near
the entrance, were the cool and shady “runfá,” for the reception of
travellers and the conduct of ordinary business; and the “gída,” partly
consisting entirely of reed of the best wicker-work, partly built of clay
in the lower parts, while the roof is constructed only of reeds,—but
whatever the material employed, always warm and well adapted for domestic
privacy; while the entire dwelling is shaded with spreading trees, and
enlivened with groups of children, goats, fowls, pigeons, and, where a
little wealth has been accumulated, a horse or a pack-ox.
Dr. Barth afterwards arrived at Katséna, a town of considerable size,
with a population of eight thousand souls. It was formerly the residence
of one of the richest and most celebrated princes in Nigritiá, though he
paid a tribute of a hundred slaves to the King of Bornu as a sign of
allegiance.
For two centuries, from 1600 to 1800, Katséna appears to have been the
principal town in this part of the Soudan. Its social condition,
developed by contact with the Arabs, then reached its highest degree of
civilization; the language, rich in form and pure in pronunciation, and
the polished and refined manners of the inhabitants, distinguished it
from the other towns of the Háusa. But a complete and pitiful change
took place when, in 1807, the Fulbi, raised to the highest pitch of
fanaticism by the preaching of the reformer, Othmán dan Fódiye, succeeded
in gaining possession of the town. The principal foreign merchants then
emigrated to Kanó; the Asbenáwa also transferred their salt-market
thither; and Katséna, notwithstanding its excellent position and greater
salubrity, is now but of secondary importance as the seat of a governor.
Mohammed Bello, who held that post at the time of Barth’s visit, either
through capriciousness or suspicion, was very desirous of sending him on
to Sokoto, the residence of the Emir. At first he employed persuasion,
and when that failed, resorted to force, detaining Barth a prisoner for
five days. However, the energy and perseverance of the traveller
overcame every difficulty; and, having obtained his freedom, he directed
his steps towards the celebrated commercial entrepôt of the Central
Soudan.
Kanó, as he says, was an important station for him, not only from a
scientific, but a financial point of view. After the extortions of the
Towaregs, and his long delay in A’ir, he was entirely dependent upon the
merchandise which had been forwarded thither in advance. On his arrival,
he had to liquidate a debt which had risen to the large amount of 113,200
kurdi; and he was much disheartened by the low value set upon the wares
which were his sole resource. Lodged in dark and uncomfortable quarters,
destitute of money, beset by his numerous creditors, and treated with
insolence by his servant, his position in the far-famed African city,
which had so long occupied his thoughts and excited his imagination, was
the reverse of agreeable. Anxiety acted upon his physical health, and a
severe attack of fever reduced him to a state of great weakness. Yet the
gloomy colours in which he naturally paints his own condition do not
extend to his description of Kanó. _That_ is bright, vivid, and graphic.
The whole scenery of the town—with its great variety of clay houses,
huts, and sheds; its patches of green pasture for oxen, horses, camels,
donkeys, and goats; its deep hollows containing ponds overgrown with
water-plants; its noble trees, the symmetric gónda or papaya, the slender
date-palm, the spreading alléluba, and the majestic bombyx, or
silk-cotton tree; the inhabitants, gay in diversified costumes, from the
half-naked slave to the most elaborately dressed Arab—forms an animated
picture of a world complete in itself; a strange contrast to European
towns in external form, and yet, after all, in social inequalities, in
the difference of happiness and comfort, activity and laziness, luxury
and poverty, exactly similar.
Here a row of shops is filled with articles of native and foreign
produce, with noisy buyers and sellers in every variety of figure,
complexion, and dress, yet all intent upon gain, and endeavouring to get
the advantage of each other; there, a large shed, like a hurdle, full of
half-naked, half-starved slaves, torn from their quiet homes, from their
wives, husbands, parents, arranged in rows like cattle, and staring with
hopeless eyes upon the purchasers, wondering, perhaps, into whose hands
it would be their lot to fall. How dark to them the mystery of life! In
another part may be seen all that can minister to human ease and comfort,
and the wealthy buying dainties and delicacies for his table, while the
poor man eyes wistfully a handful of grain. Here a rich governor,
dressed in silk and gaudy clothes, mounted upon a spirited and richly
caparisoned horse, is followed by a troop of idle, insolent menials;
there, a blind pauper gropes his way through the restless, excited
multitude, and fears at every step to be trodden underfoot. Observe
yonder a yard neatly fenced with mats of reed, and provided with all the
comforts which the country affords; a clean, neat-looking cottage, with
nicely polished clay walls, a shutter of reeds placed against the low,
well-rounded door, to forbid abrupt intrusion on the privacy of domestic
life; a cool shed for the daily household work; a fine spreading alléluba
tree, affording a pleasant shade in the noontide hours, or a stately
gónda or papaya lifting its crown of feather-like leaves on a slender,
smooth, and undivided stem, or the tall and useful date-tree, adding its
charm to the fair scene of domestic peace and comfort,—the matron, in a
clean black cotton gown wound round her waist, and with her hair trimly
dressed, busily preparing the meal for her absent husband, or spinning
cotton, and at the same time urging the female slaves to pound the corn;
the children, naked and merry, playing about in the sand, or chasing a
straggling, stubborn goat; earthenware pots and wooden bowls, cleanly
washed, all standing in order. Our survey also includes a “máciná”—an
open terrace of clay, with a number of dyeing-pans, and people actively
employed in various processes of their handicraft: one man stirring the
juice, and mixing some colouring wood with the indigo in order to secure
the desired tint; another drawing a shirt from the dye-pot, or suspending
it to a rope fastened to the trees; and a couple of men busily beating a
well-dyed shirt, and singing the while in good time and tune. Further
on, a blacksmith with rude tools that an European would disdain, is
fashioning a dagger, the sharpness of which will surprise you, or a
formidable barbed spear, or some implement of husbandry; beyond, men and
women turn an unfrequented thoroughfare to account by hanging up, along
the fences, their cotton thread for weaving; and, lastly, close at hand,
a group of loiterers idle away the sunny hours.
Ever and anon comes upon the scene a caravan from Gónja, with the
much-prized kola-nut, chewed by all who can spare as much or as little as
“ten kurdi;” or a caravan passes, laden with natron, bound for Núpa; or a
troop of Asbenáwa, going off with their salt for the neighbouring towns;
or some Arabs lead their camels, heavily charged with the luxuries of the
north and east, to the quarters of the opulent; or a troop of gaudy,
warlike-looking horsemen dash towards the palace of the governor with
news from some distant province. Everywhere you see human life in its
varied forms, the brightest and the most gloomy closely mixed together,
as in life itself happiness and sorrow are never divided; every variety
of national form and complexion—the olive-coloured Arab; the dark Kanuri,
with his wide nostrils; the small-featured, light, and slender
Ba-Fillanchi; the broad-faced Ba-Wángara; the stout, large-boned, and
masculine-looking Núpa female; the well-proportioned and comely Ba-Haúshe
woman.