Footnotes:

"Hail, verdant groves! where joy's extatic powerOnce gave the sultry noon a charm divine,Excelling all that Phœbus or the NineHave told in glowing verse!—Youth's radiant hourYet beams upon my soul,—while memory trueRetraces all the past, and brings to viewThe magic pleasures which these groves have known,When Hope and Love, and Life itself, were new,Delights which touch the SOUL OFTASTEalone,Taught by the many and reserved for few!O! busyMemory, thou hast touched a chordRecalling images, beloved,—adored,—While Fancy keen still wields her knife and fork,O'er roasted turkey and a chine of pork!"CLEMENTINA.

I found it flying about in one of Mr. Gagliuffi's old lumber rooms, and, being such a precious gem, I must needs reproduce it upon the page of my travels. Who is the author, and how I came by it, I cannot now tell. I only know it once adorned the columns of the "Malta Times," at a period which now seems to me an age ago.

There was a wedding to-day, and the bride was carried on the back of the camel, attended with the high honour of the frequent discharge of musketry. In orderthat I might likewise partake of these honours, the Arab cavaliers stopped before the Consul's house, and several times discharged their matchlocks. It was a gay, busy, bustling scene. The cavaliers afterwards proceeded to the Castle, and discharged their matchlocks, standing up on the shovel-stirrups, and firing them off at full gallop. But these cavaliers are nothing comparable to the crack horsemen of Morocco. Their horses are in a miserable condition, and they themselves ride badly. The horse does not do well in the Saharan oases. In Fezzan he is often obliged to be fed on dates, which are both heating and relaxing to the animal. Meanwhile the discharge of musketry was rattling about the city, the lady sat with the most exemplary patience on the camel (covered up, of course), in a sort of triumphal car. A troop of females were at the heels of the animal loo-looing. The ceremony stirred up the phlegm of the Turks, and delighted the Arabs.

In the evening I visited one of the gardens in the suburbs. The corn was in the ear on this, the 26th day of February. In a fortnight more they will cease their irrigation, and it will be reaped quickly afterwards. We gathered some young green peas. The flax plant is here cultivated; the fibres and dried leaves are burnt, and the seed is eaten; no other use is made of it. Two crops of everything are obtained in the year, one now, in the spring, and the other in autumn. The irrigation by which all this cultivation is produced, rain rarely ever falling, cannot be carried on during the intense and absorbing heats of summer. A couple of asses and a couple of men, or a man and a boy, do all the business of irrigation. Fezzan water is brackish generally, and thewells are about fifteen of twenty feet deep. These are in the form of great holes or pits. The more distant suburbs present beautiful forests of palms, producing a fine reviving effect upon an eye like mine, long saddened by the ungrateful aspect of a dreary desert. The atmosphere and ambient air is less pleasing to view, presenting always a light dirty red hue, as if encharged with the fine sand rising from the surface. The soil of the Fezzan oases is indeed mostly arenose, and the dates are nearly all impregnated with fine particles of sand, which takes place when they are ripe, and very much lowers their value. But this sandy soil does not sufficiently account for the eternal dirty vermilion hue of the atmosphere of Mourzuk. They say its site is very low, in the shallow of a plain, and to this cause they attribute its fever.

27th.—Health quite restored, and got up early. There are two or three round holes in the window-shutters of my bed-room; by the assistance of these, when the shutters are closed, in the way of a camera oscura, all the objects passing and repassing in the streets are most sharply and artistically drawn on the opposite wall. Here beautifully delineated I see the camels pass slowly along,—the ostriches picking and billing about, which are the scavengers of the street, instead of the pigs at Washington, (see Dickens,) and the dogs of Constantinople, (see all the tourists,)—the women fetching water,—the lounging soldiers limping by with their black thick shoes pulled on as slippers,—the slaves squatting in circles, playing in the dirt,—groups of merchants, black, yellow, and brown, bargaining and wrangling,—asses laden with wood,—the coffee-maker carrying about cupsof coffee, &c., &c. Wrote letters for to-morrow's post, and very disagreeable to me, as announcing my tour broken up midway.

28th.—Post-day. The courier leaves every Saturday, but it requires nearly forty days to get the answer of a letter from Tripoli. The courier is eighteen daysen route. A caravan occupies from twenty-four to thirty days. In the route of Sockna there is water nearly every day, but one or two places, the longest space three and a half, and four days. The Commander visited me again this morning, as also the Greek doctor, who calls every morning. The Major now came in. He is a young Circassian; by birth a Christian, but kidnapped and sold to the Turks. He is a very amiable young man, and deeply regrets that he was not brought up a Christian. It is high time this infamous practice of selling the Christians of the East to the Turks, was put a stop to. It is to be hoped that Russia will atone for the wrongs which she has inflicted upon Poland, and offer some compensation for the blood which she is still shedding in Circassia, by abolishing this odious system of Christian slavery through all south-eastern Europe, as in western Asia. Notwithstanding our hatred to Russia's system, and its iron-souled Grand Council, we Englishmen (I presume to speak for all), are willing and happy to do justice to Russia in the efforts which she made, and the aid she rendered the Servians, in emancipating them from the galling yoke of Mussulman bigotry and Turkish tyranny[41]. Nicholas has a noble and mighty mission before him, not to subjugate Turkey, or infringeupon the liberties of Europe, but to civilize his vast empire, and the wild countries of Northern Asia. But the Czar does not seem to understand his destiny—or the task, more probably, is beyond his power. It must be left to his successor, or happier times. This Circassian tells me he has not had the fever in Mourzuk. He thinks the city healthier than formerly, and attributes the fever to people's eating dates, and their bad living. Dates are not only the principal growth of the Fezzan oases, but the main subsistence of their inhabitants. All live on dates; men, women and children, horses, asses and camels, and sheep, fowls and dogs.

Mr. Gagliuffi gives the following statistics of the slave-trafficviâMourzuk from Bornou and Soudan:—

In 18432,200In 18441,200In 18451,100———Total,4,500

The two last years shows a diminution, and he thinks the trade to be on the decline. But this evidently arises from the Bornouese caravan being intercepted, or the traffic interrupted by the fugitive Arabs on the route. There has been no large caravan from Bornou for three years. And Mr. Gagliuffi considers the route at the present, so unsafe, as positively to refuse countenancing my going up to Bornou this spring. However, a couple of small slave-caravans have ventured stealthily down twice a year, conducted by Tibboos. The principal Tripoline slave-dealers who frequent Mourzuk are from Bengazi and Egypt. Slaves are besides brought occasionally from Wadai; and there is a biennial caravan from Wadai to Bengazi direct, leading to the coast a thousand and more slaves at once. Our Consul is frequently employed in administering medicine to the poor slaves, who arrive at Mourzuk from the interior, with their health broken down, and often at death's door. He makes frequent cures, but, alas! it is for the benefit of the ferocious Tibboo slave-dealer. The Consul naturally laments he cannot buy these miserable slaves, who, in this state of disease, are often offered at the market for five or six dollars each. He has no funds at his disposal, or he would procure them by some means, cure them, and give them their liberty.

This evening I called upon a Moor, an ancient renegade of the name of Yousef, who was well acquainted with all our countrymen of the Bornou expedition. His arm was set, after being broken, by Dr. Oudney, which he still exhibits as an old reminiscence of the doctor. Yousef has lately given great disgust to his good neighbours, by purchasing a new concubine slave, to whom he introduced us, notwithstanding that he has his house full of women and children. This sufficiently proves that Mohammedans discountenance the unbridled licence of filling their houses with women. One of his old female slaves, by whom Yousef has had several children, said to Mr. Gagliuffi, "I won't speak to you any more, Consul. Don't come more to this house. Why did you give my master money to buy a new slave?" The Consul protested he did not. Old Yousef laughed, and drily observed:—"When this (pointing to the new slave), is in the family way, I must purchase another wife. If I can't keep my wives myself, I must beg of my neighbours to contributea portion of the necessary expense." Old Yousef is a thorough-going scamp of a Moor.

1st March.—Occupied in writing down the stations of the Bornou route from the mouth of one of the Sheikh's couriers. There are now two of these couriers in Mourzuk, natives of Bornou. The Sheikh corresponds with Belazee as well as with Mr. Gagliuffi. Bornouese couriers travel in pairs, lest a single one should fail if sent alone. They are mounted on camels, and it requires them forty days to make the traverse from Mourzuk to Bornou. I tired the courier pretty well with dictating to me the route. It is extremely difficult to get an African to sit down quietly and attentively an hour, and give you information. If ever so well paid, they show the greatest impatience. Afterwards paid a visit to the young Circassian officer. He related to me how he was captured. It was in the broad day, when he was quite a child, playing by a little brook, and picking up stones to throw in the water. The officer says, that in his dreams, he often sees the silvery bubbles and rings of the water rising after he had thrown the pebble into the brook; and, especially, does he see the ever-flown visions of his green and flowery pastimes of childhood, whilst he is out on duty in the open and thirsty desert, lying dozing under an intense sun, darting its beams of fire on his head. The kidnapper took him to Constantinople. His brother came up after to rescue him. But the master, to whom he was sold, terrified him, by threatening, if he should show the least wish to return, to cut him to pieces. The barbarous threat had its desired effect, and he submitted to his fate. This Circassian officer has still a hankering after Christians, and in his heart is no goodMussulman. He tries to adopt as much as possible Christian manners, and boasts of having all things like them. Such forced renegades deserve our most sincere sympathies.

Evening—Mr. Gagliuffi and myself dined with the Greek doctor. It was a carnival day with the doctor, and he prepared a befitting entertainment. An Albanian Greek dined with us, who had been brought up from Tripoli by Abd-El-Geleel, to make gunpowder for the Arab prince. When the Turks captured Mourzuk they found here the Albanian. He has nearly lost his sight, and is now charitably supported by the Doctor. We were waited upon by the Doctor's servant, an Ionian Greek, and the Maltese servant of the Consul, and so mustered six Christians, a large number for the interior of Africa. The dinner was magnificently sumptuous for this part of Africa. We had a whole lamb roasted. After dinner, its shoulder bones were clean scraped and held up to the light by the Doctor, in order to catch a glimpse of the dark future! This is an ancientsuperstitionof the Greeks. Besides several Turkish dishes, (for the Doctor lives half Turk, half Christian,) we had salmon and Sardinians. This was the first piece of fish I had seen or eaten for seven months. It was remarked when the large caravan from Bornou comes, expected in this summer, it will certainly bring dried fish from the Lake Tschad. In Central Africa, they dry fish, as meat, without salt, and it keeps well. We had bottled stout, table wines, Malaga, rosatas, and rum. We were all of course very happy, and the Albanian sang several of his wild mountain songs. He was very merry, and, swore he was obliged to keep himselfmerry, because, not like other people, he had an affair which rankled in his breast. We asked him what it was. The Albanian answered, greatly excited, both with his wine and his subject, "A man killed my brother, and I have not yet been able to kill him. The vengeance of my brother's blood torments me night and day. I pray God to return to my country to kill the murderer." This Albanian is an enthusiastic Greek, and wishes and prays to see his countrymen plant again the Cross on the dome of St. Sophia. "But many of you have turned Turk," I remarked. "Yes," observed the Albanian, "many of my countrymen have turned Turk, and I, who am less than the least of them all, I have not committed this folly. I can't comprehend how they could so trample on the name of their Saviour." In short, I found the Albanian possessed of all the fire, bigotry, ferocity and vindictiveness, for which his countrymen are so celebrated. I encouraged him, and said, "The Greek kingdom ought to have its bounds a little widened." The Greek jumped up wildly at this remark, and clenching my hand, began screaming one of his patriotic airs, and cursing the Turks, so that we became all at once a seditious dinner-party, under the shade of the pale Crescent. Had we been in Paris, that pinnacle of liberty and civilization, we should all immediately have been conveyed off, without finishing our dessert and the wine which made us such patriot Greeks, to the sobering apartment of the Conciergerie. Happily we were in The Desert, under the rule of barbarians. Coletti was mentioned, but I forget what was said of him. In Jerbah, a Greek merchant protested to me, that the only way to regenerate Greece was to cut off the head of this Coletti,as well as all the present chiefs of parties. He observed "Another generation alone can regenerate Greece." The merchant added, "I should like also to hang up that Monsieur Piscatory."

It does seem a pity that diplomacy should be reduced to the most detestable intrigues, lying and duplicity, which if any other class of men were guilty of, they would be put out of the pale of society. But mankind would care little about these archpriests of falsehood, were it not for the serious consequences resulting from their works. Look at the state of Greece now, the handicraft of diplomatists! Such is the result of the good and friendly offices rendered to an infant state by these sons of the Father of Lies!

At this time there are some nine hundred Albanians in Tripoli, regular troops of the Porte, whose only occupation is lounging, lying and smoking about the streets. There were sixty or seventy Christians amongst them, but for some reason or other unexplained, the Bashaw sent them all back. The report is, the Sultan does not know what to do with these Albanians, and has sent them to Africa to decimate them. The massacreing Janissary days are past, and we have arrived at an age of the more humane policy of letting them die of fever on the burning plains of Africa. Perhaps France has recommended the Porte this policy, having found it answer so well in the experiment made on malcontent regiments in Algeria. How very humane all our European Governments are getting! How kindly they treat their poor troops! Who would not be a soldier, and fight the battles of "glorious war?" But we must return to our host, who is a very different kind of Greek.Doctors are always pacific men. The Doctor observed laconically, "I eat the bread of the Turks, and whilst I do so I must be, and I am a good Ottoman subject." Mr. Gagliuffi speaks Greek and Turkish besides Arabic and Italian, and so he is at home with all these people. It is happy for the Consul he does, for after all, Mourzuk is but a miserable dirty place, and would kill with ennui, if fever were wanting, some score of English Vice-Consuls.

2nd.—The Consul received a visit from the Adjutant-Major, Agha Suleman. The Doctor came in and was very merry with the Adjutant, who is always trying to get himself reported sick, in order that he may return to Tripoli. The Adjutant observed to me, whilst he drew himself up, made a wry face, and heaved a deep sigh, as if his last, to persuade the Doctor he was greatly suffering, "I would not go to Bornou if you were to give me 100,000 dollars." But why should he? With what sort of feeling could he go there? The spirit of discovery, which once stirred up the Arabian savans to explore Nigritia, is now totally extinct both in Arabs and Turks. I learnt some items of the pay of Officials in Mourzuk. The Bashaw has 5,000 mahboubs per annum. The Adjutant-Major has 30 dollars per mensem; the Doctor 25 dollars; and so on of the rest, the commanding officer having perhaps 50 dollars per mensem. This amount of pay is considered sufficient for expenses at Mourzuk. The officers have quarters with the Bashaw in the Castle. Mr. Gagliuffi related a characteristic anecdote of the ignorance prevailing amongst the Arabs as gross as that of Negroes. Mohammed Circus (or the Circassian) was a few years agoBashaw of Bengazi whilst Mr. G. visited that place. The Bashaw was buying something of an Arab, and gave him but a third of its real value. Mr. G. took upon himself to say, "Why do you injure this poor man by giving him but a third of the value of his goods?" "Oh!" rejoined the Bashaw, "that is not a man, he is only a dog. Let me call him back and you shall see what he is." Immediately the Bashaw called the man back and asked him, "Who was the better, God or Mahomet?" The Arab bluntly answered, smiling with conceit, "Why do you ask me such a thing? What harm do I receive from Mahomet or what harm do others receive from our prophet? But God kills one man with a sword, hangs another, drowns another. All the evil of the world is from God, but Mahomet does nothing except good for us."

This poor ignorant fellow was filled with ideas of irresistible fate. Some Arabs and Moors ascribe only the good things to God, whilst others all things, the evil and the good. When this anecdote was being ended, a Moor came in, and being in a disputing humour, I asked him abruptly,—

"What is truth?"

"The Koran."

"Who told you the Koran is truth?"

"Mahomet."

"And who told Mahomet?"

"God."

"How do you know this?"

"Mahomet says so."

"What did Mahomet do to make you credit his word?"

"Plenty of things."

"What things?"

"Killed the infidels, sent us the camel into Africa, planted for us the date-palm, and worked many wonders."

"Is that all?"

"No, great many more things I cannot now recollect."

The camel, I think, was introduced into Africa about the third century. It is a mistake to say, Mahomet did no miracles. The people in North Africa and The Desert all relate miracles performed by Mahomet. The Prophet, however, repudiates miracles in the Koran. In Surats xiii. and xvii., in answer to miracles demanded, the Prophet replies by the knock-down argument, "All miracles are vain. Whom God directs, believes; whom he causes to err, errs." Our conversation passed to old Yousef Bashaw, whose family the Porte has deposed. Mr. Gagliuffi observed justly, and which so often happens in despotic countries, "Yousef established Tripoli and its provinces in one firm united kingdom, and in the early part of his life his power was respected and his people happy; but as the Bashaw declined in life, he again disorganized everything, and Tripoli was rent in pieces." Went to visit a member of the Divan. All these despotic Bashaws consult or prompt a mute Divan. Let us hope the Consulta lately assembled by Pius IX. will turn out something better than these mute Divans, or a Buonaparte Senate. We were treated with coffee, and milk, sour milk (or leben), but not skimmed, which is considered a great luxury, and only presented to strangers of consequence.

3rd.—We received a visit from the Bey, as he is sometimes called, the commander of the troops, who is a very sociable kind-hearted little fellow. Mr. Gagliuffi related some of the atrocities which were committed by the troops previous to the commander's arrival. They killed a woman, committed rape on a child, were never sober, and always quarrelling with the inhabitants. They are now reduced to discipline and order. One day Mohammed Effendi said to Mr. Gagliuffi, "I am always at work, either making improvements in the town or exercising the troops, but who sees me here, no one recognizes my conduct in The Desert." The Consul endeavoured to console the desponding officer by observing, God saw him, and one day would reward him for his good works. So we see, the Turks are a part of the human race after all, and could lead on their fellow-creatures in the way of improvement if their energies were properly directed. Africa could be greatly benefitted by the Turks. Even at Mourzuk they are introducing things which will soon be imitated at Bornou. Not being infidels, the same objection does not exist against their innovations as against us Christians. Even in the little matter of gloves I saw an immense difference. The officers here wear gloves, and nothing is thought of it. People do not say to them as they have said to me at Ghat and Ghadames, "You have the devil's hands." Mohammed Effendi actually went so far as to make this speech, "I shall go to England one day in order that I may learn something." The grand occupation of the Commander now is, the building of a guard-house within the city. This occupies his attention morning, noon, and night; and it certainly has a good appearance. There is not such a natty thing in Tripoli. The officerdirects all the works, and is assisted occasionally by the friendly counsel of the Consul; so that a wonder of architecture will at last be reared amidst the crumbling-down places of this city of hovels.

My Said returned this afternoon, bringing the baggage from The Wady. Five more slaves of Haj Ibrahim are sick. His first slave adventure at Ghat is likely to turn out a bad speculation. Read an article or two fromBlackwood's Magazine, No. CCXXX. The Consul has got a few stray numbers up The Desert. English politics read all stuff in Desert, like what a celebrated man was accustomed to say of his philosophy after dinner, "It's all nonsense or worse." So is reading English politics in this part of the world. How soon our tastes and passions change, with our change of place, and scene, and skies! An Englishman married a Malay woman at Singapore. In six years he lost all his English, nay, European feelings, and became as listless and stupid as the people whose habits and nationality he had sunken under.

Visited this evening the grave of Mr. Ritchie, who died at Mourzuk on November 20, 1819. He was buried by Capt. Lyon, his companion in African travel. The grave is placed about two hundred yards south of the Moorish burying-ground; it is raised eight or ten inches above the level of the soil, and is large, being edged round with a border of clay and small stones. We were conducted by old Yousef, who told us the Rais (Capt. Lyon) chose the site of burial between three small mounds of earth, in order that the grave might be easily distinguished hereafter. Mr. Gagliuffi, had never visited the grave before my arrival, which I proposed to him asa sacred duty that we owed to our predecessors in African travel and discovery. The Consul promises now to have the grave repaired and white-washed, and I, on my part, promise, in the event of my return to the interior, to carry with me a small tombstone, to place over the grave, with name, date, and epitaph. If there were a thorough andbonâ fideGeographical Society in England, this little attention to the memory of that distinguished man of science would have been performed long ago. But our societies are instituted to pay their officers and secretaries, and not to promote the objects for which they are ostensibly supported by the public. The Moorish cemetery close by, is a most melancholy, nay, frightfully grotesque picture. No white-shining tombs and dome-topped mausoleums, no dark cypresses waving over them and contrasting shade with light, which mournfully adorn the cemeteries of the north coast. All is the grotesque refuse of misery! Here we see sticks of palm-branches driven down at the head of the graves, which sticks are driven through old bottles, pitchers, jugs, ostrich eggs, &c., so that at a distance the burying-ground has the appearance of a dull, dirty, desolate field of household rubbish, and old crockery-ware. I did not trouble myself to ask the reason of this trumpery of trumperies, but I imagine it is to distinguish one grave from another. The cemetery of Ghadames, where nothing is seen but stones, if it be a desert-looking place, yet has not this trumpery appearance. I was glad to see the grave of Ritchie lying apart from this, though in its infidel isolation. There lies our poor countryman, alone in The Sahara! But, though without a stone or monument to mark the desert spot, still it is a memorial of the geniusand enterprise of Englishmen for travel and research in the wildest, remotest regions of the globe. And, for myself, I would rather lie here, in open desert, than in the crowded London churchyard, amidst smoke, and filth, and resurrectionists, the pride and glory of our Cockney-land. Here, at least, the body rests in purity, the desert breeze, which sweeps its "dread abode" barer and barer, is not contaminated with the effluvia of a death-dealing pestilence; and though the ardent sun of Africa smites continually the lonely grave, the bones mayhap will rest undisturbed till reunited and refleshed at the loud call of the Trump of Doom! unkennelled, uncoffined by wild beast, or more ferocious man.

Footnotes:[39]Although Mr. Gagliuffi is an Austrian, a native of Trieste, he has acquired all the English ideas of comfort, and speaks excellent English.[40]As a remarkable exception, some one or twoFrenchpapers did protest against this wholesale burning alive of an Arab tribe.[41]See Mrs. Kerr's translation of the History of Servia.

[39]Although Mr. Gagliuffi is an Austrian, a native of Trieste, he has acquired all the English ideas of comfort, and speaks excellent English.

[40]As a remarkable exception, some one or twoFrenchpapers did protest against this wholesale burning alive of an Arab tribe.

[41]See Mrs. Kerr's translation of the History of Servia.

Mr. Gagliuffi's opinion of the Touaricks.—Amazonian White-Washers.—Visit, and take leave of the Bashaw.—Various Anecdotes related by His Highness.—Safe-conduct given to liberated Slaves in returning to their Country.—Character of the Tibboos, and particularly Tibboo Women.—Description of the Oases of Fezzan.—Leo's Account of these Oases.—Recent History of the Government of Mourzuk.—The Traitor Mukni.—Life and Character of Abd-el-Geleel.—The Civil War in Tripoli, and Usurpation of its Government by the Turks.—The Tyrant Asker Ali.—Skirmish of Hasan Belazee with the Town of Omm-Errâneb, and the Oulad Suleiman.—Retreat of the Oulad Suleiman to Bornou, and their Marauding Character.—My departure from Mourzuk with the Slave-Caravan of Haj Essnousee.—Establishment of British Consuls in The Great Desert and Central Africa.—Force of the new Slave-Caravan.

4th.—Feelas well in health as when I left Tripoli, though housed in this city of fever. Mr. Gagliuffi has some ideas about the Touaricks which I have not acquired in Ghat. He pretends Touaricks are always afraid of their women, and are obliged to do whatsoever their wives tell them. The son never will go with his father, but always follows his mother. His father he learns to hate the more he loves his mother. The Consul does not think the Touaricks of Aheer to be so numerous as represented. The same, indeed, may be said of all the kingdoms of Africa. The principal slave or servant (factotum) of the Sultan of Aheer is now in Mourzuk, transacting business for his master. The Bashaw offered to write to the Sultan for me throughthis man. He is called Hiddee, and paid me a visit this morning. En-Nour, the friend of Kandarka, is only a Sheikh. Hiddee is the slave whom the Bashaw has been quizzing so severely about the mighty armies of his master.

A number of women are now occupied opposite to us in white-washing or white-claying the Guard-house, thischef-d'œuvreof Mourzuk architecture. The women alone do this work, and as their privilege. There are about thirty of them so occupied, under the command of a queen white-washer. They all tremble at the sound of her Majesty's voice. Sometimes she gives them a crack over the head with a bowl, to make them look sharp about them. The white-washers prepare the wash in the usual way, and then lade it out in small bowls, throwing a whole bowl at once at the walls, using no brush, now and then only with their hands rubbing over a place not wet with the wash. This arises from the nature of the wash, it being merely a fine brown-white clay, or a species of pipe-clay. There is no lime in the oases near: people fetch it from Sockna. For this reason the Castle is so dirty. There is attendant on the women a band of Arab musicians, to cheer them on in their work. Every man who passes by gets a piece of white-wash clay thrown at him. If it hits him he has to pay, if not he escapes. On his non-payment, when so hit, he is tabooed from the privileges which he possesses in and over women. He can have no communication with them, nor can he buy anything from them, or receive anything from their hands. If he does not pay in a few days, his fine increases with his delay. This custom prevails, and its stipulations aremost religiously binding, whenever women are employed to white-wash Government houses and establishments. Once a Targhee received some money, which a woman thus employed offered to him, to entrap him. Immediately exclaimed the virago, "You cowardly rascal, instead of giving us money, you take money away from us." Then a mob of these Amazons followed him to his house, and, to save himself from being torn and scratched to pieces by the troop, he paid ten dollars, and was happy to escape so easily. The Amazonian white-washers like to have a shy at Mr. Gagliuffi or the Doctor, because they are down upon them for a good mulct or present. To save their respective dignities, Consul and Doctor take care to keep out of that quarter of the town where the work of the Amazons is going on.

We paid a visit to the Bashaw this afternoon previous to my departure to-morrow. We had tea and pipes again as before. His Highness was excessively civil, and related to me many anecdotes of the people of this part of the world, of which anecdotes and such chit-chat he is very fond. This Bashaw is a sort of chronicler of the Arabian Nights order, with the difference, that what His Highness relates are generally true stories. Mr. Gagliuffi instructed me in a little of his Desert diplomacy, and I accordingly observed, "Your Excellency must extend the Turkish rule in Sahara, and you ought to capture Ghat, for that is the centre of commerce in these parts." This was put forth as a feeler. The Bashaw deigned the following in reply:—"There was a boy left with his father, whilst the mother and wife had gone to a neighbouring village on an errand. The boy, after a sleep of three hours, awoke, and, looking about him and not seeing his mother, began to cry for her.'Oh,' said the father, 'you have begun to cry for your mother after three minutes, you blubbering urchin; whilst I have been waiting for my wife, with the most enduring patience, these three long hours."—"So it is with me," continued the Bashaw; "you are crying for Ghat after three months' residence here, and I have been crying for Ghat these three long years. I have been waiting every year, every month and day in the year, to go and take it, or destroy it, but the Sultan sends me no orders." I noticed the Fullan boy of the Bashaw, and observed to him that I had seen very few of the Fullan slaves. The Bashaw returned, "That boy is gold to me. When I was sick, he was the only one who waited upon me unceasingly, and never left my couch. I have also a Fullan girl; her hair is as long as your women's, and reaches down to her waist." Mr. Gagliuffi afterwards told me His Highness had been some while choosing a wife, that is, a substitute for his wife who is in Tripoli, and had at last found what he liked in this Fullan girl, of whose beauty and grace he said the Bashaw boasted to him (the Consul), a thing quite unusual amongst Mohammedans. The features of this Fullan boy were very regular, black eyes and a light olive complexion. Such were Fullan slaves of our caravan; and the mostrecherchéeof all the females, fetching the highest price, was a Fullanah girl.

His Highness related several anecdotes of the Soudanese people. Slaves are told, on leaving Soudan, that white people will kill them and eat them; but when they get here, and see themselves kindly treated, they become reconciled to slavery. In some of the Nigritian countries, when the people get old,—say seventy oreighty years of age,—their relatives and friends say to them, "Come, now you are very old, and are of no use in the world: it is better for you to go away to your fathers and to the gods. There you will be young again, eat and drink as well as ever, and be as beautiful and as strong as you ever were or can be. You will renew your young days like the young birds, and the young lions." "Very well," reply the aged decrepid creatures, "we will go." They then dress up their aged worn-out victim in his fine clothing, and make a feast. When in the midst of drums and horrible screams, during the height of the feast, they lay hold of the old man, and throw him into a large fire, and he is immediately consumed to ashes. The Bashaw did not particularize the country, but this barbarous rite has been witnessed in other parts of the world besides Africa.

The inhabitants of Wadai are a nation of drunkards. They can do nothing unless drunk. Amongst these people, the greatest mark of friendship is to present their friends with raw meat, with the bile of the liver poured on it as sauce or gravy. Wadai is in the neighbourhood of Upper Egypt and Abyssinia, and the tale reminds one of Bruce, and the live-meat eating Abyssinians. A Tibboo chief came to Mourzuk, and presented himself without introduction before His Highness, and thus harangued him:—"Oh Bey! I want to write to my son, the Bashaw of Tripoli. You must send my letter to my son." "Give it to me," said His Highness, most condescendingly. "There it is," cried the Tibboo, and flung it down at the feet of the Governor. The letter being opened, the contents ran thus:—"Son, be a good man, fear me and fear God. If you behave well, and acknowledge me as your father, I will send you three slaves and come and see you." The Tibboo was allowed to depart from the Governor as a madman.

"See," said the Bashaw to me, "how ignorant and presumptuous are these Tibboo people."

I replied, "It was always so that ignorance and pride went together, and it always will be so."

His Highness.—"Are your people so?"

"Of course, all the world is so."

The Bashaw now came to the Touaricks. "The Touaricks detest cities. When they visit us, we cannot make them sleep within the walls." I observed, they have not confidence in the people of the towns they visit. The Bashaw thought that was a hit at him, and so it was, for the Touaricks sleep within the walls of their own cities, and even inside Ghadames. I occupied a house which they had tenanted just before my arrival. Therefore His Highness jumped from the Touaricks to the Ghadamseeah:—"The Ghadamsee people are a nation of Jews. I once had to escort them. One morning when I got up I found them all in separate groups, for they detest each other's society. (The Bashaw might have observed the separation of the two hereditary factions.) They were all in disorder. I got a whip and laid it on them one after another, as they whip their slaves. The next morning they were all ready to start before I was. This is the way to treat these Jews. The curse of God is upon them. When they die nothing is found in their houses, nor gold, silver, money, or goods, not even victuals. God punishes them thus because they are a nation of Jews and slave-dealers." Belazee forgets that his government is partly supportedby the slave-traffic. But the Bashaw is a man of great audacity, takes large views of things, assumes the air of lavish and magnificent pretensions, and hates the quiet, thrifty, and money-making character of the merchants of Ghadames. The Bashaw concluded his long string of anecdotes by asking me, on my return, to bring him a watch, but not to bring it if I did not intend to charge him for it, for he could not accept presents from me, since he had a fixed salary from the Sultan. He added, "I'm sorry you have not brought a letter from the Bashaw of Tripoli, for I can't show you the attention I would wish. But bring a letter when you return, and I'll write to all the princes of Africa for you." I answered, "Oh, I'll bring you a firman from the Porte, if that will do for you." At which His Highness laughed heartily.

Whatever ferocity of disposition Hasan Belazee may have shown in the decapitation of Abd-El-Geleeh, he certainly knows how to be polite and show hospitality to strangers. The British Consul-General tried to get him removed from Mourzuk, with the tyrant, Asker Ali, from Tripoli, but Belazee was the only man who could keep this province tranquil, and the trade with the coast uninterrupted. Mr. Gagliuffi tells me, as a proof of the Bashaw's influence in the interior, that His Highness wrote to the Touaricks of Aheer and Ghat to allow liberated slaves to return unmolested to their country, as an act acceptable to God, seeing the poor slaves had been liberated by their pious Mussulman masters, who invoked upon them the blessing of the Almighty on the day of their liberation. And it is said, that, in no case, when a freed slave took a letter from the Bashaw, did the slavefail to reach his native country. How different this Desert morality to that of the villanous Americans, who glory in recapturing freed slaves, or hanging them up by Lynch Law—and those poor men have bought their freedom by the sweat of their brow! The Bashaw is also strong amongst the Tibboos, who are generally an immoral race of Africans. These Tibboos attacked a merchant of Tripoli and plundered him near their country. His Highness immediately clapped all the Tibboos then at Mourzuk in prison, until the merchant's goods were restored, and he himself brought safe to Mourzuk. Since this strong measure, the Tibboos have plundered no more Tripoline merchants.

Mr. Gagliuffi pointed out several Tibboos to me in the town, and amongst the rest one who called himself a Sultan. This chief came the other day to the Consul and thus addressed him:—

"My wife is coming here. I'm so glad. She is such a good wife. Oh, so good!"

"Why is she a good wife?" inquired the Consul.

"Oh, she has killed two women; first the daughter, then the mother; wretches who wanted to kill her. Isn't that a good wife?"

The Tibboo women secrete knives about them, as the Italian and Spanish ladies conceal the stiletto in their garters. It does not come within my province to describe the Tibboos, but I may say briefly of the social condition of those tribes, in that country it is "Man and his Mistress," and not "Woman and her Master." The Tibboo ladies do not even allow a husband to enter his own home without sending word previously to announce himself. A Tibboo lady once explained this matter in Mourzuk. "Why," said the Tibbooess, "should I not have two or three husbands, as well as my husband two or three wives? Are not we women as good as men? Of course, I don't wish my husband to surprise me enjoying myself with my lovers." It is a notorious fact, that when the salt caravans go from Aheer to Bilma, the whole villages are cleared of the men, the Tibboo men escaping to the neighbouring mountains with provisions for a month. In the meanwhile, the Tibboo women and the strangers are left to themselves. The women transact all the trade of salt, and manage alone their household affairs. The Tibboo women, indeed, are everything, and their men nothing—idling and lounging away their time, and kicked about by their wives as so many useless drones of society. The women maintain the men as a race of stallions, and not from any love for them; but to preserve the Tibboo nation from extinction.

A brief description of the oases of Fezzan may be given, beginning withMourzuk, (‮مرزوق‬). The capital is placed in 25° 54′ N. Lat., and 14° 12′ E. of Greenwich. It is a walled city, contained within the circumference of about three miles, having a population of about 3,500 souls. The area of the site was reduced to a third, on the south side, by Abd-El-Geleel, for the convenience of defence, when he held it against the Turks. On the west, is the Castle of the Bashaw, forming a separate division or quarter from the town. The Castle, which consists of many buildings and court-yards, contains the barracks. The town is formed of one large broad street, opening into a spacious square before the Castle, and several smaller narrower streets. Since the occupation of the Turks, many improvements have been made. Anew mosque has been built, and a guard-house is being finished for the troops in town. Two or three coffee-houses and new shops have been fitted up, and the progress of building improvements continues. Mourzuk has three gates. The houses are mostly built of sun-dried bricks, cemented with mud, very little stone and no lime being found in the environs. Altogether it is a clean place, for an interior African city. The suburbs already have been noticed, where in the gardens wheat, barley, ghusub, ghafouly, the flax plant, common vegetables and flowers, a few roses and jessamines, are cultivated, with the noble date-palm overshadowing all. Every garden has its well, or wells. Sweet water is scarce. The spring crops are six weeks in advance of those in Tripoli. The Bashaw, on my taking leave of His Highness, presented me with a handful of ripe barley to bring to Tripoli, as a rarity. One bushel or measure of seed-corn produces from twenty-four to twenty-eight bushels. A greater quantity of corn could be easily produced in all the oases. A man and boy with an ass can cultivate corn enough in a season to subsist three or four families during six months. There are two seasons and two crops. But the gardens near the city offer no features of beautiful vegetation. At a distance there are much finer specimens of Saharan cultivation.

The government of Mourzuk consists of a Bashaw, ostensibly assisted by a Divan of six persons, to whom is joined the Kady. Besides a Kady in this city, there are four Kadys in the rest of the province. The garrison consists of five hundred and fifty men and boys, about one-third only of whom are Turks, the rest being Arabs and Moors. Of the whole force, one hundred and fifty arecavalry. There is besides an irregular corps of a hundred Arab horse. The superior officers, including the commander-in-chief, are all Turks. The medical officer is a Greek. The Porte has very few Turkish doctors. The medical officer at Tripoli was the late Dickson, an Englishman. This inconsiderable force is sufficient to maintain all the oases in tranquillity, and defend them from the hostile tribes.

The commerce of Mourzuk is at a low ebb on account of the rival Touarick city of Ghat, and especially from the disturbed state of the Bornou route during the last few years. However, there are caravans between Cairo and Mourzuk, which never frequent Tripoli. Many British and Levant goods come by this route, which are not brought by the ordinary route from Tripoli.

Saharan merchants divide Central Africa or Nigritia, into three divisions, according to the marts and routes of the interior commerce, viz.: Bornou, with which Mourzuk has the most direct relations; Soudan, or Bur-el-Abeed, ("Land of Slaves"), with which Ghat and Ghadames have direct and most frequent communications; and, finally, Timbuctoo, with which Ghat and Ghadames have likewise always relations. But Morocco is the country in North Africa which has the most constant relations with Timbuctoo; so much so, that in past times, the Emperors pretended to exercise sovereignty over this mysterious city of the banks of the Niger.

As before mentioned, Mourzuk is not healthy[42]. TheGreek doctor calls the fever "febre terziane" (Ital.), apparently the ordinary intermittent fever, or perhaps the tertian ague, with local peculiarities. It usually begins in April and continues all summer. It recommences in October, and persons attacked in this month are sick during the whole of the month. About two per cent. die if they have medical assistance, but, without this assistance, a great number die. After it, comes the bile, "gastrica bigliosa." (Ital.) This disease has also fatal consequences. The simple fever is often accompanied, when it presents itself, with worms; it then changes to intermittent fever, and if it does not, is usually fatal. Persons not cured of the fever often become dropsical. There are a few cases of consumption. Syphilis is very virulent, and prevails amongst the troops. Ophthalmia and rheumatism are common complaints. Thus Mourzuk is not quite one of those oases, or Hesperian gardens, where the happy residents quaff the elixir of immortal health and virtue. Contrarily, it is a sink of vice and disease within, and a sere foliage of palms and vegetation without, overhung with an ever forbidding sky, of dull red haziness.

The Turkish system of laxity of morals, as exhibited in all their garrison towns, has full force, free course, and scope in Mourzuk, beginning as an example with His Highness the Bashaw, and descending to the lowest soldiers. Yet they say, it was infinitely worse before the present commanding officer had charge of the troops.The officers have no legitimate wives, nor, of course the privates. The women of Mourzuk are therefore necessarily of bold aspect and depraved manners. All the lower classes of females are usually unveiled, and will commit acts of immodesty anywhere. In general these women are constantly being divorced and taking new husbands. In such a depraved state of society, love and affection are consequently unknown,

Here never—

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