LIFE IN THE SAHARA.
Tired of poetical criticism, in which we last month so freely indulged, and turning with satisfaction from the political disquisitions now going through the press for the benefit of our sorely-perplexed countrymen, we feel disposed, cutting both poetry and politics, fairly to fly our shores, and recreate ourselves and readers in some less troubled quarter of the earth. Among the host of new books on our table, redolent of Cossack and Turk, Cross and Crescent, and here and there interspersed with cabalistic-looking titles, which, we are requested to believe, signify the “Doom of Turkey,” or the “Drying up of the Euphrates”—lo, there peeps forth one of a more pacific hue. There, lustrous on its boards, rises the feathery palm-tree of the Desert,—the Arab tent,—the camel; and what an emblem of peace is that cross-legged Oriental, smoking his long pipe, imperturbable as a statue!Sedit æternumque sedebit.We open the book, and, amidst the intricacies of a very long title, catch the piquant words—“Wanderings in the African Sahara.”[10]How we feel the breezes of the Desert come around us!—the freedom,—the expanse,—the wild novelty of the scene;—the heaving motion of the camel beneath us,—the flashing spears and pennons of the escort, as they whirl in mimic warfare around. Away into the Desert! with a sea of rigid white sand beneath, and a twin sea of glowing light above! On, over the waste, till the glare of day is done, and the cool breeze comes forth, and all the stars of night,—and we kiss our hand to the moon “walking in brightness,” and say, with Southey,
“How beautiful is night!A dewy freshness fills the silent air;No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain,Breaks the serene of heaven;In full-orbed glory yonder Moon divineRolls through the dark-blue depths.Beneath her steady rayThe desert-circle spreads,Like the round ocean, girdled by the sky!How beautiful is night!”
“How beautiful is night!A dewy freshness fills the silent air;No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain,Breaks the serene of heaven;In full-orbed glory yonder Moon divineRolls through the dark-blue depths.Beneath her steady rayThe desert-circle spreads,Like the round ocean, girdled by the sky!How beautiful is night!”
“How beautiful is night!A dewy freshness fills the silent air;No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain,Breaks the serene of heaven;In full-orbed glory yonder Moon divineRolls through the dark-blue depths.Beneath her steady rayThe desert-circle spreads,Like the round ocean, girdled by the sky!How beautiful is night!”
“How beautiful is night!
A dewy freshness fills the silent air;
No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain,
Breaks the serene of heaven;
In full-orbed glory yonder Moon divine
Rolls through the dark-blue depths.
Beneath her steady ray
The desert-circle spreads,
Like the round ocean, girdled by the sky!
How beautiful is night!”
What mystery hangs over this last-born of continents! whose plains are sea-beds, at whose vast upheaval the waters of ocean must have rushed furiously in all directions to regain their level. A land of mystery, from the days of Herodotus until now. How we long to join those yearly caravans, which, after leaving behind them the whole northern region of the coast, travel for sixty days southwards through the burning Sahara,—reaching springs but once a-week,—crossing alternately now mountain-ridges, now seas of sand; until, passing from oasis to oasis, they at length penetrate into the region of Soudaan,—the heart of Africa, the death-place of Clapperton, and Richardson, and Overweg,—and behold the great central lake of Tchad, the most inaccessible point on the globe, yet to within a few miles of whose shores the dying energies of Clapperton brought a boat,—whose waters have been navigated by his European comrade, and on whose bosom, perchance, that bark still floats, with the flag of England flying from its mast!
Such were the quick musings of the moment of imaginative pleasure which elapsed, as we cut open preface and contents, and plunged into the book itself. In a trice, the argument of the book is plain to us. After a residence of several years on the shores of North Africa—during which time he seems to have mastered the various dialects of the Arab tribes, and of course studied their manners—Mr Davis, the reverend author, catches sight of an excellent opportunity for visiting the interior. “Sidy Mohammed Bey,” he says, “the heir-apparent of the throne of Tunis,—a prince possessed of excellent qualities, among which extreme kindness and affability are not the least prominent,—was on the point of making a journey into the interior, in order to regulate some public affairs; and, upon application, he very kindly took me under his immediate protection.”
On the sixth day after starting, they came to a good deal of broken country,—traversed several dry beds of rivers,—and crossed a number of rugged heights, rent into strange shapes. Marching through an opening in one of these minor ridges, they passed at once from a beautiful plain into the wild and ragged outskirts of the great chain of Gebel Waslaat, celebrated for the warlike character of its ancient inhabitants. “At a little distance,” says Mr Davis, “these famous and romantic heights have a most lovely appearance, resembling the vineyards of Spain and of the south of France;” but on a nearer approach, he found—as on many other occasions during the expedition—that it was only distance that lent to them their enchanting look. The Arabs of the coast look upon this region as perhaps the blackest spot in all creation; and you may as well call one of them a devil as aWaslaati. They relate that this part was at one time inhabited by a very wicked people, and that the Pharaoh under whom the Israelites were in bondage, and who received such signal chastisement, was a native of these mountains. The Mohammedan doctors go still further, and assert that it was upon this Gebel Waslaat that Eblis (Satan) was hurled down, after his expulsion from the regions of light and happiness; and that it was in these mountains that he took up his first earthly abode.
Leaving these ill-omened mountains to the west, they journeyed south-eastwards, for two days, through a plain, which, says Mr Davis, “for this part of the world, must be pronounced a luxuriant one.” It is pretty well cultivated, and is watered by a river which has its source in the Waslaat mountains. They then encamped for a couple of days in the vicinity of Cairwan, the “city of saints.” “At a short distance,” he says, “this, like every other Mohammedan city of any note, has a fine appearance, but as one approaches, its beauty vanishes. Crooked and filthy streets, ruined and dilapidated houses, wretched shops and miserable hovels, are too glaring not to attract one’s attention.” The city is surrounded by a wall in pretty good condition, and has a garrison of regular as well as of irregular troops. Outside are large cisterns, supplementing the reservoirs with which the houses within are furnished for collecting rain-water; and, still more remarkable, though much less useful, the tomb wherein repose the holy remains of SaintShaab, “the Prophet’s barber.”
After a two days’ halt, they left behind them the plain of Cairwan, and began to approach the borders of the Sahara. On the day after starting, the Prince’s party was met by the “noble and highly-favoured” tribe of Arabs, the Dreeds (who are allowed to sit in presence of a prince, whilst every other Arab is obliged to stand), headed by theirkaidor governor, Smeeda Ben Azooz. “Smeeda himself was mounted on a magnificent grey steed, whose saddle appeared to be of a solid mass of gold, so richly was it embroidered; and the other trappings were also sumptuously adorned with gold and silver. He rode in advance, and the hundred Dreeds who followed him were on horses not much inferior to that of their proud and haughty chief. When within about a hundred yards of the Prince, Smeeda dismounted, and approached on foot to kiss his hand. On resuming his seat in the saddle, he took up his position to his master’s left, whilst his attendants fell back in the rear of our party.”
The Prince was enthusiastically fond of hunting. Every day, when he had the opportunity, he was engaged in it. The chase of gazelles was his favourite sport, and it was one in which success was neither easily nor frequently achieved. “It is a grand sight,” says Mr Davis, “to behold these slender-limbed and feeble-looking tiny creatures defying the most spirited horse in speed. When pursued, they actually often stopped to nibble the grass,—as if to challenge the rider and ridicule his efforts, and treat him, his horse and hounds alike, with contempt.” They were frequently seen in companies of about twenty together. On the day after Smeeda and his Dreeds joined the expedition, a great many gazelles were chased by the Prince’s cavalry and the Arabs, but not a single one was killed. This, it is alleged, was owing, firstly, to the rough and broken character of the soil; secondly, to the burning heat which prevailed; and thirdly, the shirocco wind, which sometimes, as it blew in their faces, seemed as if it carried along with it flames of fire, and caused the riders to check the speed of their horses. But to compensate the party for their bootless efforts, Smeeda sent his servants for his well-trained hawks.
“In half an hour about twenty of these birds of prey, of an unusually large size, were brought, accompanied by several Dreeds, expert in hawking. Smeeda,—who is rather a short, but very corpulent man, with a handsome face, ornamented by a fine black, neatly-trimmed beard, and most penetrating dark eyes,—was this day mounted on a beautiful white horse, decked out with the same saddle and trappings his grey horse exhibited the day before. The dress of the rider was elegant and rich in the extreme. As soon as he had protected his hands from the talons by gauntlets, partly covered with plates of gold, a hawk was handed to him by one of his attendants. He undid the hood which confined the head of the bird, and prevented his quick eye from beholding the objects around. In an instant the hawk was seen soaring up to the sky. Another and another followed, and in this manner about twelve or fifteen were despatched. A few seconds elapsed, when one after the other pounced upon his prey. Hares and rabbits, partridges and other birds, were thus secured in abundance. The servants were busily engaged running in all directions to secure both the hawks and the prey,—the former, in order to adjust their hoods for a short time previous to being despatched again; and the latter, ‘to cut the throat’ before life is extinct, so as to render them lawful food for thetrue believer.”
In connection with this love of the chase, we must mention an incident which occurred as the expedition was approaching Cairwan, and which shows how little prevalent is any rule but the “law of the strongest” in those quarters, and how naturally men take to deceit as a refuge against lawless force. Mr Davis and some others of the party came to half-a-dozen Arab tents, where, to their great surprise, a general stillness and gloom prevailed. The men and children sat on the ground with an air of profoundest melancholy; whilst the women, usually so active, were resting from their labours, and exhibiting grief by floods of tears.
“‘What has happened, Ali, that you are all so much cast down?’ asked one of our party, addressing an old man.
‘Such is the will of God,’ was the only reply.
‘But what has happened, Ali?’
‘Maktoob,—it is so preordained!’ answered the old man, shaking his head, and clasping his hands.
‘Has any one died?’
To this he only replied with a sigh, and pointed us to the interior of his tent. But instead of participating in his grief, my friend abruptly asked him,—Where is thesloghi(greyhound) of last year?’
‘How can you put such a question to me, when you witness my grief and distress?’
‘Who, then, is dead?’ pursued my inquisitive companion.
‘My wife!’ replied the old Arab, again pointing us to the interior of the tent, where apparently she lay, covered with a kind of blanket.
‘But what have you done withthe lovely(greyhound)?’
Old Ali now indignantly expressed his surprise that such a question should be put to him at a time when his mind was so differently occupied. He thought it manifested hard-heartedness, if not cruelty.
‘But are you sure your wife isquitedead?’
‘Do not mock me, O Moslems!’
The interrogator then called a soldier, who happened to be near, and gave him his horse to hold, while he himself ruthlessly entered the tent. On removing the blanket, he found the Arab’s wife, all alive, and holding the petsloghiin her arms. On being thus detected, the poor woman cried out most beseechingly, ‘Do not take the dog!’ and the whole company, men, women, and children, most imploringly re-echoed the cry.
The intruder then turned to old Ali, and with an ironical smile said,—‘You see yourdearwife is notquitedead!’”
The Prince, as we have said, was a keen sportsman, and not one of his dogs could compare with Ali’ssloghi; but his veneration for justice predominated even over his love of the chase. “Ali is rich,” said he, when the hound was brought to him, “and money will not tempt him, else I would gladly offer it him. Send thesloghiinstantly back!”
The day after the junction of Smeeda and his noble Dreeds, the expedition entered the district of the Majer,—a tribe (numbering 200 tents, or 1200 souls) of a peculiarly rascally character, and the larger portion of whose scanty resources is obtained by the robbery and murder of travellers. For these outrages they are rarely brought to account, save when the Prince, or other representative of the Regency of Tunis, makes a tour in person among the tribes. On the present occasion they had a heavy debt to pay,—the value of a life, in the Desert, being generally reckoned at from twenty-five to thirty camels. Within the precincts of this tribe are the ruins of Spaitla, the ancient Sufetula; and, by the favour of the Prince, our author set out to visit them. Under the guidance of the Majer chief, and escorted by twenty soldiers well mounted, and armed to the teeth—after a gallop over a beautiful plain, and thence crossing a district of hill and dale, “all covered with verdure, and occasionally bordering upon the picturesque,” Mr Davis and his party arrived at the ruins. On their first approach all was perfectly still. Not a sound but their own was audible, save the rippling of a brook which glides past the ruins on their north-eastern side. Not a human being was to be seen, either among the ruins or in their vicinity; and even animal life seemed to have for ever departed from the sombre walls and mansions of the ancient Sufetulans. But such was not really the case. In the holes, caverns, and clefts of the rocks on which the city stands, were dispersed numbers of the followers and subjects of the Majer chief. From their dwellings they issued forth imperceptibly to the travellers. And most unpleasant company they must have been; for, says our author, “all the corrupt ramifications of the human heart,—all the vile actions of which man is capable, could be traced, and that distinctly, in the features of these sons of Ghiath.”
The situation of this ancient city is delightful. It is built upon an eminence, commanding a panoramic view of an expanse of country which, even in its present barren and deserted condition, has a charming aspect. Wild olive, juniper, and almond trees in abundance stud the banks of the brook. Of the place itself, Mr Davis says, “I had no conception of the extent of the ruins to be found here; so that my companions, as well as myself, were absolutely amazed on beholding the magnificence of some of them. As I viewed these from some angles, I could almost fancy myself again on the majestic ruins of Baalbec.” He especially notices a sumptuous triumphal arch of the Corinthian order, with a lesser arch on each side. From this he proceeded to three temples,—upon which time, and the innate destructive disposition of the Arabs, have left evident traces. “Parts are in a most dilapidated condition, yet it is surprising to meet with so much which, with very little trouble and expense, might easily be restored to its former grandeur. The front and entrance to the temples are in ruins, and large masses of stone are lying about in all directions, and block up the ingress; but the backs, which face the triumphal arch, are in capital repair.”
On his return from visiting the ruins of Spaitla, our author and his companions, miscalculating the movements of the main body of the expedition, found themselves very much out of their reckoning. Night came on,—their guide, the Majer chief, disappeared at the very time his presence was most required; and what with the fear of his rascally tribe before their eyes, as well as of the wild beasts of the desert, the night which the little party had to pass on the sands before they could rejoin the main body was anything but a comfortable one.
Lions are common in these parts, and their tracks were occasionally visible; but the king of beasts nowhere appeared in person, and the Prince, who longed to try his skill on this lordly tenant of the wastes, was balked of his sport. Hyenas are likewise to be met with; and the manner in which they are taken by the Arabs in these parts is very peculiar. Its subterranean abode, it appears, is so narrow as not to permit of the animal turning about in it; and hence, to use the Arab phraseology, it has “two doors,” by one of which it enters, and by the other goes out. The Arabs, lyingperdusin the vicinity of one of these dens, watch the particular hole by which the hyena enters, and then proceed to place a strong rope net over the opposite hole,—whilst one of their fraternity, skilled in the business, and prepared with a rope, works his way in by “the door” which the animal has entered. As he nears the brute (which cannot turn upon him), he “charms it,” according to our author’s informants, saying,—“Come, my dear little creature; I will lead you to places where many carcases are prepared for you,—plenty of food awaits you. Let me fasten this rope to your beautiful leg, and stand quiet whilst I do so.” This sentence, or something very similar to it, is repeated till the operation is effectually achieved; when the daring son of the Sahara begins to gore the brute with a dagger, till he is forced to rush out, when he is caught in the net, and either killed on the spot or carried off alive. If any blunder happens, however,—as is sometimes the case—through which the hyena is enabled to struggle and re-enter its abode, the “charmer,” in spite of his charming, falls a victim to its savage rage, and frequently his companions can scarcely contrive to get clear without feeling something of its effects.
The powerful Hamama tribe was the next which our travellers fell in with,—two hundred of this tribe coming to pay their respects to the heir-apparent of the throne, and escort him to the city of Cafsa. “There was much in their appearance,” says Mr Davis, “to make me regard this tribe with a great degree of interest. They are genuine Arabs, and of this they are very proud. ‘Their hand is against every man, and every man’s hand is against them.’ An officer from the reigning sovereign of Tunis, (who has just joined our expedition) with a number of cavalry soldiers, is now amongst them, in order to enforce a fine of 2000 camels, for murders and other outrages committed by these genuine descendants of Ishmael. They are at enmity with the Dreeds, jealous of the Farasheesh, and almost constantly at war with the Mamshe—a tribe inhabiting the western borders of the regency, quite as powerful and as full of pretensions as their own.” As seldom more than thirty camels are ever demanded for a single life, these two thousand camels symbolise upwards of sixty murders committed by this tribe, and known to the Government!
His Highness the Prince made his entry in grand style into Cafsa,—the Mamlooks on their choice horses, and in their best uniforms—a native band playing their national tunes—a host of unfurled banners—and at the wings several companies of cavalry. In all, including the various tribes that had joined, the camp now amounted to no less than 30,000 men, about 50,000 camels, and 2000 horses and mules! “A just estimate of the size of the expedition,” says our author, “can only be formed by viewing it from some eminence as it is moving along, either in some large plain, or over the seas of sand which now and then it is traversing. Often have I taken my position on a little hillock, and could see nothing for miles before me or behind but the living masses which composed the inhabitants of our canvass city. How similar to this must have been the marching of the Children of Israel in the wilderness, on their way from Egypt to the Promised Land!”
The morning was lovely as they approached Cafsa. Not a speck could be discovered in the sky, and everything around seemed to have an aspect of contentment and cheerfulness. The city is surrounded by gardens, gay with clusters of date, olive, lemon, orange, pomegranate, pistacchio, and other fruit trees. “In walking among these gardens, richly watered by a delicious brook, which has its supply from two fountains, one within the citadel, and the other in the centre of the city, a stranger can imagine himself in some more temperate region, and among a people more advanced in civilisation.” But on entering the city, the charm (as usual) vanishes. Cafsa is the ancient Capsa, (built three hundred years before Carthage), the stronghold of Jugurtha; of the inhabitants of which place Florus says, “They are in the midst of their sands and serpents, which defend them better from those that would attack them than armies and ramparts would.” Marius, however, after some adroit manœuvring, pounced upon and took the city;—and as the inhabitants were strongly attached to the Numidian prince, the Roman general, after giving the place up to be plundered by his soldiers, levelled it with the ground, and put the inhabitants to the sword, or sold them as slaves. The modern city, built on the ruins of the ancient one, is situated upon a rising ground, and has a population of about three or four thousand inhabitants. Within it there is a spring, the waters of which, at their source, are tepid, but are considerably cooled in the large basin into which they discharge themselves. This is in all probability theTarmidof Edrisi and theJugis aquaof Sallust. A small kind of fish, about two or three inches in length, is to be found in this slightly tepid basin.
The capture of one of the Hamana tribe at this place, who had been “preaching up a kind of crusade against the Government, and instilling Chartist principles,” (!) not unnaturally suggests to Mr Davis the recollection of certain cases of capital punishment which he had witnessed at Tunis. One of these he thus describes:—
“A crowd near the Carthagenian gate attracted my attention, and on inquiry I found that the five or six hundred persons had assembled to see the sentence of their despot carried into execution. In a few minutes sixhambas(policemen) made their appearance on the wall, some forty yards distant from the gate, and about thirty feet in height, leading two culprits, whose hands were pinioned in front. They stepped firmly, and seemed quite callous and indifferent about their doom. The hambas set at once about their work. They fastened ropes round the necks of the criminals, which they secured to the battlements, on the wall. No ecclesiastic was present to administer any religious consolation; but the executioners now and then ejaculated the words,Maktoob, ‘it is so predestinated,’ andHacka yehab rubby, ‘such is the will of God.’ When desired to take the position pointed out to them, they did so without manifesting the slightest reluctance, or exhibiting the least symptom of fear. Each took his seat between two of the battlements, their feet hanging over. They looked for a moment on the crowd beneath; and when one of the hambas desired them to pronounce their creed, they cried out, ‘O Moslems! pray for us.’ Then, turning their eyes heavenwards, they pronounced in a clear, distinct, and audible voice, the words,’There is no God but God, and Mohammed is his apostle.’ When the last word was uttered, the executioners pushed them simultaneously off the wall, and thus the wretched men were launched into eternity. The conduct of the assembled spectators was very orderly—indeed, grief seemed depicted on every countenance.”
In Mohammedan law, sentences, whether capital or otherwise, are no sooner pronounced than they are carried into execution. There is a delectable variety in the modes of exit from this world, which the law prescribes for capital offenders. Arabs are generally hanged, seldom decapitated; Turks are mostly strangled; Jews are dealt with after the manner of Arabs. Women are drowned; and the higher classes, and princes, enjoy the privilege of being poisoned. In some few cases, criminals are sentenced to be burned. One mode of death—which we Europeans regard as rather an honourable one—is regarded by the Koran-readers and the orthodox portion of the community as heterodox in the extreme. A knowledge of Roger Bacon’s invention, gunpowder, never having been vouchsafed to the Prophet in any of his revelations, the Faithful, of course, are unable to find a single passage in the Koran to justify sentencing a soldier to be shot. But in this, as in many other instances, the common sense or convenience of the Pasha leads him to deviate from the Cadi’s opinion, and to overrule theSharrah.
On leaving Cafsa, our travellers found themselves fairly in the Sahara. “As the day advanced,” says Mr Davis, “the heat increased, and by noon became almost intolerable. Besides the excessive heat of a burning sun, we had to endure the noxious influence of the southerly wind, which, fortunately for us, did not blow with all its wonted fury. Its effect, however, was apparent, not only on myself, but also on some of my friends. The weakness and lassitude these combined agencies produced, manifested themselves by the perfect stillness and sullenness which prevailed in every group of travellers, as they either walked or rode along. The heat it collected in its sweep across the burning sands, it now freely vented on us,—and that to such a degree that some of its puffs actually resembled in their effects the flames issuing from a furnace.” No wonder that the Psylli of old should have attempted the extermination of so destructive a tenant of the waste! This nation, says Herodotus, who in ancient times inhabited a district bordering on theRegio Syrtica, having once had all their reservoirs of water dried up by the south wind, advanced into the Sahara in order to make war upon it; but the enemy, defying bow and arrow, opposed them by blowing with extreme violence, and raised such clouds and torrents of sand that the poor Psylli were overwhelmed, and all of them perished! What African traveller does not regret that the victory was on the side of the noxious element!
Mr Davis never saw the Simoom in its full and dreadful force, nor did he witness any of those astounding exhibitions of sand-columns, circling in numbers over the surface of the desert, and overwhelming everything that come in their way, that Bruce once gazed upon with awe and wonder. But of snakes and scorpions, and suchlike poisonous inhabiters of the Desert, our author had his fill. On one occasion, when about to encamp, they found the ground literally covered with snakes, whose bite, the Arabs say, is certain death. “Happily for man,” said one of Mr Davis’s companions, “these reptiles have not the benefit of sight;—had they not been deficient in this, the world could not have existed, as these enemies of man would undoubtedly have extirpated him from the face of the earth! So powerful is their sting, that they have been known to have penetrated the large iron stirrup of the Hamama.” The snake thus alluded to—and we need hardly say, our readers may take the descriptioncum grano salis—is theliffaorliffach,—a reptile about a yard in length; and the account which the Arabs give of the death of those who have been bitten by it tallies very closely with the description which Lucan gives of the death of Nasidius in the same locality:—
“A fate of different kind Nasidius found:A burningprestergave the deadly wound,—And straight a sudden flame began to spread,And paint his visage with a glowing red.With swift expansion swells the bloated skin,Nought but an undistinguish’d mass is seen:The puffy poison spreads and heaves around,Till all the man is in the monster drown’d.”
“A fate of different kind Nasidius found:A burningprestergave the deadly wound,—And straight a sudden flame began to spread,And paint his visage with a glowing red.With swift expansion swells the bloated skin,Nought but an undistinguish’d mass is seen:The puffy poison spreads and heaves around,Till all the man is in the monster drown’d.”
“A fate of different kind Nasidius found:A burningprestergave the deadly wound,—And straight a sudden flame began to spread,And paint his visage with a glowing red.With swift expansion swells the bloated skin,Nought but an undistinguish’d mass is seen:The puffy poison spreads and heaves around,Till all the man is in the monster drown’d.”
“A fate of different kind Nasidius found:
A burningprestergave the deadly wound,—
And straight a sudden flame began to spread,
And paint his visage with a glowing red.
With swift expansion swells the bloated skin,
Nought but an undistinguish’d mass is seen:
The puffy poison spreads and heaves around,
Till all the man is in the monster drown’d.”
The next place the expedition reached was Tozar,—a town fairly in the Sahara, and beyond even the farreaching sway of the oldDominos rerumand their redoubtable Legionaries. “Before Tozar,” says our author, “there are a few hillocks, dotted with some majestic palm-trees; affording a delightful shade: and the silvery rivulet, winding its way among these in devious directions, adds to the charm of the scene. As we approached, we found the hillocks and the trees literally covered with men, women, and children,—assembled to witness the entry of Prince Mohammed and the camp, with their shrill notes oflo-lo-lo-lo!” Tozar, like the other cities of the Sahara, is in one important feature different from those on the coast. Generally speaking, the streets of all the towns of Barbary, like those in Egypt and Syria, are exceedingly narrow, so that one camel, laden with wood or merchandise, is sufficient to obstruct the thoroughfare. But in the towns of the Sahara the streets are generally very wide,—the object of which is, to allow the furious winds of the Desert, charged with immense masses of sand, to sweep clean through, instead of being checked in their course, and therefore blocking up the streets with their noxious deposit. From these sand-storms of the desert, the coast-towns have little to fear, on account of the intervening mountain-chains robbing those terrible visitants of their deadly burden; and accordingly the inhabitants of the Barbary towns can afford to build their streets very narrow, so as to exclude the fierce rays of the sun,—a luxury which their southern brethren dare not indulge in.
The population of Tozar amounts to about five thousand,—for the most part of a swarthy complexion, with a cast of features bordering upon that of the Negro. Indeed every fresh stage one makes in the journey into Central Africa, a gradual change is perceptible in the features and complexion of the population,—the white man, by a slow but invariable process, changing into a Negro. “Were it possible,” says Mr Davis, “to introduce into Europe an ethnological collection, classified latitudinally, from the northern coast to Central Africa, the greatest sceptic might be convinced of the fact, thattimeandplacealone made our coloured fellow-creatures what they are. The slave-dealer, and the Negro-dealer, might thus have an ocular demonstration of the great truth, that the black man is our brother, and that circumstances alone, with the nature of which we are not fully acquainted, made him to differ from us.” He mentions, as an additional proof of this, that even among the Jews (who, he says, “have probably lived in this part of Africa from the time the Phœnicians first settled here”) a striking difference is perceptible between those on the coast and those residing in the interior. He adds the curious fact, that in the desert the Jews certainly do not live for many centuries; and thence deduces the conclusion, that if its influence is so clearly shown in them, both as regards colour and features, it is not to be wondered that it should have told to a much greater extent on those to whom the Sahara has been a home for thousands of years. Of all these vari-coloured sections of the North African population, the most merry and gay are unquestionably the Negroes, whether male or female. To ask a Moor or an Arab if he danced, would be to offer him a serious insult—the former especially being too grave to have a regard even for music. But the black people are almost always cheerful, and enjoy life even when in a state of bondage. “Often have I seen them,” says Mr Davis, “congregated by hundreds in some open space, singing and dancing, and playing, for hours consecutively. The ability of the Negro to accommodate himself to circumstances is surprising. What would depress and crush a white man is supported with a marvellous resignation by the black, whose light heart enables him to toil and to sing, to suffer, and yet not despair.”
Within the oasis of Tozar, and its date-forest, are half-a-dozen villages, besides four marabouts with their cupolas, around each of which are a few huts. The houses of the Desert are generally only one storey high, and are built, like those of Cafsa, of bricks, with rafters of palm-wood. The interior of the houses is as humble as their exterior. The rooms are long and narrow, with only a hole here and there to admit the light; and from the rafters of the ceiling of every apartment is suspended the stock of dates which, with milk, forms the principal articles alike of food and of commerce. It is by the sale, or rather barter, of their dates to the wandering tribes that the inhabitants of the oasis of Tozar procure for themselves wheat, barley, cloth, cattle, &c. In former times their commerce was not of so simple or so innocent description—for a flourishing business used to be done here with Tunis in human flesh. A slave was given in exchange for two or three hundredweight of dates, or at the intrinsic value of about £3; and when the rich planter’s shed was filled, he marched the unhappy objects of his purchase northwards to the coast, where they were shipped for their various destinations. “Before the abolition of slavery in the regency of Tunis,” says our author, “I have often seen caravans from this place exposing their merchandise in the slave-market of the capital, and selling them at the rate of £12 or £15 per head. But this lucrative business is now stopped, at least so far as Tunis is concerned, and loud are the complaints of the Tozarians on this subject.”
Besides the stock of dates pendant from the ceiling, the chief ornaments which decorate the rooms of the Sahara towns, are a strange medley of jars, jugs, dishes, plates, bottles, and glasses, suspended on the wall facing the entrance-door. Here they are exhibited promiscuously, totally irrespective of size, shape, colour, or order, and by the quantity of these, an estimate is formed of the wealth of the owner. A low table, a few stools made of the branches of the palm-tree, and, in some instances, a couch or divan, complete the furniture of an apartment,—and an apartment generally forms the residence of a single family. At night, sheepskins, rugs, or mats, are spread on the floor, and supply the place of beds. Every household, we may add, has one or more immense jars, into which any loose or stray dates are thrown. Within an inch or two of the bottom of these jars there is a top, by which they draw off a species of date-honey, which they use in cooking and for other purposes.
Date-honey, however, is not the only species of juice which the Tozarians obtain from the palm-trees of their oasis; for we are informed that though the devout believers in the Koran there scrupulously abstain fromwine, they indulge freely inlagmi, or the juice of the palm-tree, which, when fermented, is quite as intoxicating in its effects as the beverage prohibited by the Prophet. This juice is easily obtained, and if possible still more easily prepared. At a certain season of the year, an incision is made in the tree just beneath the branches,—a jar is then so fastened as to receive the liquid as it exudes,—and, in this manner, they usually procure from a tree, during the course of a night, from a quart to a quart and a half oflagmi. When drunk immediately, this liquor tastes like genuine rich milk, and is perfectly free from an intoxicating influence; but when allowed to stand for a night, or at most for twenty-four hours—during which time fermentation takes place—“it partakes (with the exception of the colour, which is whitish) of the quality and flavour of champagne, and that of a much superior sort to what is usually offered in the British markets.” This date-tree wine is to be found in every house, and has its victims reeling through the streets of Tozar just as beer and whisky have in our streets at home. But the curious part of the matter is, that “the faithful” openly justify themselves against the charge of transgressing their Prophet’s precept. “Lagmiis not wine,” they say, “and the Prophet’s prohibition refers towine.”
Of the social relations at Tozar, Mr Davis says:—“My first impression, on visiting several families, was such as to induce me to believe that greater domestic happiness prevailed here than in the Mohammedan cities on the coast. The females are not kept in distinct and separate apartments, nor do they even cover their faces when in the presence of strangers, but appear perfectly free, and seem exceedingly affable.” A closer examination, however, sufficed to show that the regulations of Mohammedanism in regard to females produced very much the same results here as elsewhere. Marriage is usually contracted very early,—so that it is no uncommon thing to see boys of thirteen and fourteen in possession of wives of eleven or twelve, or even younger; and the result, here as elsewhere, is, that girls of twelve look as old as European females do at twenty, and at thirty they are almost fit to be placed on the retired list. Indeed, as Colonel Dow in hisFerishtasays, polygamy in the East is founded very much on natural causes, as, owing to early marriages, and the effects of the climate, a man there keeps his vigour long enough to see two or three wives bloom and fade in succession. Moslems consider it wrong, and even sinful, if a man has reached his twentieth year without marrying. The young couple are joined together on the good faith of their parents or relations; for they are not permitted to see each other before the nuptial night. Certain persons, however,—generally old women, relatives of the parties—are sent from the man, who examine the lady, and bring him back a report of her bodily accomplishments. If the man finds himself disappointed, he has a right to send her back to her parents, without restoring to her the portion that was promised her,—or rather, the price that was to be paid for her, as the wife is bought by the husband. The young damsels, it must be allowed, take all pains to avoid so lamentable a catastrophe. “Excessive obesity,” says Mr Davis, “is considered the perfection of female beauty among the Mohammedans on the coast; hence a young woman, after she is betrothed, receives gold or silver shackles upon her hands and wrists, and is fed so long till these are filled up. A kind of seed calleddrough, and their national dishcoscoso, are used for the purpose. The young lady is literally crammed, and some actually die under the spoon.”
These African beauties, it would appear, are subject to strange fantasies and superstitions. The Jenoon, or devil, we are told, sometimes causes a lady to fancy some article of dress or jewellery; and until her husband (for the lady is always a married one) procures her the article, the Jenoon torments her in a most pitiless manner. But the tormentor is not satisfied by the lady obtaining the article. He must have something for himself, in return for the trouble he takes in the matter,—and that something is nothing less than a splendid feast exclusively of ladies. Our reverend author, however, by special favour, was once present at a feast of this kind at Nabil, the ancient Neapolis; and as the spirits do not seem to have stood much in awe of “the cloth,” he is able to furnish us with the following account of this Jenoon or devil feast:—
“The room in which it was celebrated was beautifully illuminated, and surrounded with ottomans, upon which the ladies, amounting to forty, were luxuriously reclining, and amongst them the lady possessed by the Jenoon. All of them were beautifully dressed, and none of them, judging from their appearance, were more than forty years of age, though some of them were still in their teens. After I had been there a few moments, supper was brought in; and coscoso, the favourite dish of Barbary, was of course not excluded. They all sat down on the ground, and some with wooden spoons, whilst others with their hands, partook freely of the repast. I was invited to join them, which I did, and had also the pleasure to be favoured with a spoon.” (We hope it was alongone!)
“After supper they all took their former places; and a band of music began to strike up some of their national tunes. All the ladies sat quiet—till of a sudden one of them, a young woman of about twenty, arose and began to dance by herself. She was soon followed by several others, who were wheeling rapidly round; and all of them worked themselves into such a frenzy that from weakness they dropped to the ground, where they lay, till, recovering their strength, they recommenced their madness. This lasted a considerable time. The lady with the Jenoon was sitting quietly on the ottoman. When the visitors had finished their amusement, she started up, and followed their example; and when she, like the others, was stretched on the floor, one of the spectators arose, and asked what article she fancied,—to which she made no reply. The former then named several articles of dress, asking whether she wished any of them; and when the article which the Jenoon lady desired was mentioned, (I believe a shawl), she suddenly started up,—and this was the signal that the Jenoon feast was considered as ended.”
When Barbary ladies play theJenoonwith their husbands at this rate, it is not to be wondered at that a separation from such fantastic spirits should be placed within easy reach of the man. Barbary husbands, at least if they be Moslems, can take back their divorced partners after a first divorce, but not after a second, unless—strange provision!—she has in the interim been married to another man. A husband may oblige his divorced wife to nurse any infant she has borne him, until it is two years old; and no man can marry a divorced woman sooner than four months and a half after her total separation from the former husband. The facility with which a divorce can be procured in Northern Africa, even for the most trivial causes, cannot be otherwise than most pernicious to the social welfare of the community. Mr Davis narrates the following anecdote in illustration of this ridiculous as well as most mischievous license:—
“A servant of mine of the name of Ali, once very pressingly applied for leave to go out for a short time. It was not my custom to inquire into the nature of his business, but, on that occasion something unaccountable prompted me to put the question,—‘And where are you going to, Ali?’
“Holding up a piece of paper, he very coolly answered,—‘To give my wife this divorce; and shall soon be back,Arfi,’ (my master).
“‘To give your wife a divorce! Well, you may go; but remember, if you divorce her, I from this very moment divorce you.’
“Handing me the paper, Ali exclaimed,—‘Here, master, take it; on such conditions I shall not divorce my wife.”’
Tozar was the most southerly point which the expedition reached; and here it remained for the space of three weeks, during which time Mr Davis and his three French companions made excursions to the neighbouring oases. Accompanied by the Governor and Cadi of Nefta, with a retinue of some twenty well-mounted servants, they set out over the sands to visit that place. “Never,” says Mr Davis, “had the propriety of styling the camelthe ship of the Desertbeen so apparent to me as this day. The whole way from Tozar to Nefta, the Desert had completely the aspect of a vast bed of an ocean, and we seemed to plough the sandy waves of the Sahara as the ship does those of the sea. The morning was rather hazy, and the sky was overcast with a number of detached small white clouds, which (particularly those along the horizon) very often assumed the form of a variety of sailing crafts; and thus added considerably to the delusion, under the influence of which we Europeans were quite willing to abide, viz. of navigating some expansive lake. By seven o’clock, however, the sun burst forth in all his brilliance; every cloud was speedily dispersed, and a clear, blue ethereal sky was stretched over us as far as the eye could reach.” When fairly launched upon the Deserts, the sameness of the scenery becomes most oppressive. Seldom is the traveller’s eye refreshed by anything in the shape of a mountain or a green plain. One sea of sand succeeds another; and were it not for an occasional mirage, which for a time diverts them, or, for the circumstance that the glaring sun and drifting sand-clouds compels them sometimes for hours together to envelop their faces in thebornoos, or cloak, so that they are able to dream of the fantastic groups of date-trees, and the gentle rivulets winding amongst them in their native land, their journey through such portions of the Desert would be the most intolerable and dreary imaginable. These alleviations, or “comforts,” as an old voyager of the Desert called them, being mere illusions, are rather calculated to vex the heart of the inexperienced traveller. But those who have been in the habit of crossing the sandy ocean from their infancy, and to whom every spot on its surface is familiar, are diverted, and even cheered by such illusions. “It is a change for them,” said one of these veteran voyagers, “and any change in a monotonous life is agreeable.”
On the present occasion, however, our travellers were embarked on a much shorter journey. A few hours’ ride sufficed to carry them over the waste, and bring them to the oasis of Nefta—of the extreme antiquity of which town the Cadi had the most assured belief. “Nefta,” said he, “was built—or, rather the foundation of it was laid—bySaidna Noah(our Lord Noah): peace be upon him! Here he discovered the first dry spot; and hence he disembarked here, and erected an abode for his family.” The inhabitants of these oases of the Desert are not without their etiquette; and on approaching the town, the Governor assumed his dignified aspect, made his entry with all possible gravity, and was no sooner seated in his own residence than the sheikhs and aristocracy of Nefta assembled to welcome him, some kissing his head, some his shoulder, some his elbow, and some the palm of his hand. The worthy Governor, however, who had a good dash of humour in his composition, loved other things better than etiquette. “No sooner was the assembly dismissed,” says our author, “than our lordly host again resumed his easy and affable manner. When the sound of the feet of the last grandee had died away, Ibrahim rose up, and assumed an attitude which might have been a subject for the study of an artist. There he stood, not unlike what I could fancy a Demosthenes, a Cato, or a Cicero, when on the point of commencing one of their thrilling orations. Ibrahim remained in that position a few seconds, and then turning to us, said, ‘I am glad to be free again. Gentlemen! you no doubt are hungry as well as myself; have you any objection to a good dinner?’”
Having despatched the dinner, which justified the host’s eulogium of it, and reposed for a few hours after their fatigues, Mr Davis and one of his companions set out by themselves to ride all round the oasis of Nefta. “All went on well at first,” he says, “and we even enjoyed our ride along the outskirts of the thick forest of magnificent and majestic date-trees, till we suddenly perceived our horses sinking beneath us. ‘Pull up! pull up!’ screamed my companion; ‘the ground is unsafe!’ We were on the brink of getting on theKilta, a dangerous swamp, which receives the surplus waters of the head-fountain, after they have supplied the vast date-plantations. TheKiltajoins the ‘Sea of Pharaoh,’ and never have I seen anything of a more delusive character. The surface of the swamp had precisely the same appearance as the solid ground; and had we been riding at full speed, we might have perished in this deceitful abyss.” TheRas Elain—“head fountain or spring,”—which is the source of thewaad, or river, constitutes the charm and luxury of this delightful oasis. The spring is surrounded on three sides by hillocks, and is embowered amidst a cluster of palm-trees, so thickly and eccentrically placed that our travellers had much difficulty in approaching it so as to taste its waters.Fi kol donya ma atsh’ kaifho’,—“In the whole world there is nothing like it!” exclaimed their guide. “And I must candidly confess,” says Mr Davis, “that though he had never left the locality of his birth, he was pretty correct on this point. Never did I taste more delicious water; and we unanimously agreed that the Neftaweens might well be proud of theirRas Elain. What a boon is this spring, located as it is amidst the burning sands!”
But the great marvel of this district is the mysteriousBakar Faraoon, the “Sea of Pharaoh.” The whole tribes of the vicinity look with awe and terror upon this so-called “sea,” and superstitions innumerable are connected with it. Not only has the army of that wicked monarch after whom the sea is called, perished in it, but hosts of infidel sovereigns, persecutors of the Faithful, with their myriads of warriors, been engulfed in it, and are still sinking down its bottomless abyss! Such are the reports of the Moslems, confirmed by the weighty asseverations of our author’s learned friend, the Cadi of Nefta. “Not only have numberless armies been seen marching and re-marching on its surface by night,” said that erudite expounder of the Koran, “but repeatedly have they been seen during broad daylight. Giants on monstrously large horses, have been seen galloping about in various directions, advancing and receding, and then suddenly disappearing again in that ‘sea.’”
“‘Have you ever, my Lord Cadi, seen any of those submarine warriors?’
Cadi.—‘No,Inever have.’
‘Can you mention any trustworthy person of your acquaintance who has?’
Cadi.—‘I certainly cannot.’
‘Then what evidence have you for the truth of those marvellous apparitions?’
Cadi.—‘Every one believes in all I have told you.’
‘Is it not possible that all this belief may be the result of the fevered imagination of some superstitious individual?’
Cadi.—‘It certainly is possible,—but all believe it.’”
This wonderful “sea” is a vast lake, dry for about nine months of the year, extending about seventy miles in length, by forty broad at its widest part. It receives several streamlets, such as theRas Elainof Nefta; and, during the rainy season, the torrents from the mountains which on two sides at least adjoin it. During the winter, portions of the lake-bed retain for a short time the waters thus poured into it; but during the greater part of the year, a deposit of salt only is visible on its sandy surface. It abounds in marshes, quicksands, and trap-pits; and at no time can it be crossed save by a single route, which is pointed out by trunks of palm-trees, placed at short distances,—and hence its proper name,the Lake of Marks. Tufts of very sickly-looking grass, and mounds clothed with consumptive shrubs, fringed its shores at the time our travellers visited it; and its surface was wavy, and covered with saline incrustations. Towards the north-east part of the lake there is a kind of island, about four miles in circumference, which is covered with palm-trees. The Arabs say that those trees have grown up from the kernels left there by Pharaoh’s troops,—and this they regard as an additional proof that the Egyptian monarch and his army perished there!
At last the three weeks’ stay at Tozar drew to a close, and a most lovely night was that which preceded their departure. Mr Davis seldom indulges in scenic description; and we give the following as a rare and charming picture of a night-scene in the Desert:—
“At half-past ten, when every inmate of my establishment had retired to rest,—the tranquillity, the universal stillness, and balmy atmosphere seemed to invite me to leave my tent again. All was serene and calm without, and everything appeared to inspire the mind with serious and sober reflection.