Footnotes:

"Love his gold shafts employs;"

Never here—

"Waves his purple wings."

Mr. Gagliuffi thought one of the greatest obstacles to the suppression of the slave-trade was the facility which it afforded Moorish and Arab merchants to indulge in sensual amours. Although a merchant would get no profit by his long and dreary journeys over Desert, he would still carry it on for the sake of indulging in the lower passions of his nature. A slave dealer will convey a score or two of female slaves from Mourzuk to Tripoli, and change the unhappy objects of his brutal lust every night. This is, he considers, the summum bonum of human existence, and to obtain it, he will continue this nefarious trade, without the smallest gain, or prospect of gain, and die a beggar when his vile passions become extinct. "What is life without a slave?" says The Desert voluptuary. "Better to die than have no slaves!" But there are exceptions. A young lad is placed by his uncle, who lives in Tripoli, under the care of the Consul. His uncle wrote to the Consul, "To tell the lad, to send no more slaves to Tripoli, to abandon the traffic altogether," adding, in his letter, "In future, God deliver us from this shameful traffic!" But the Consul previously had written to the uncle that he would not take the boy under his care if he trafficked in slaves. Notwithstanding all this, some few Saharan merchants there are who really detest this traffic, and its attendant immoralities. Such I have found in my later peregrinations through North Africa.

Fezzan, as vulgarly computed, is said to contain one hundred and one towns and villages, or inhabited oases. The districts are, 1st. Mourzuk, the capital; 2nd. East side, including Hofrah, Shargheeah, and Foghah; 3rd. North side, Sebhah, Bounanees, Jofrah, and Shaty; 4th. West side, Wady Sharghee, Wady Ghurby, and Wady Atbah; 5th. South side, Ghatroun. This division embraces twelve principal towns, where there are resident Kaeds. All the lesser towns have their subordinate Kaeds or Sheikhs. It will be seen that Sockna is not included in this enumeration, and it is not usually considered a part of the government of Fezzan. Of the rest, and all the towns, Zuela is the more interesting for its antiquities. Formerly the capital, as well as Germa, it was colonized by the Romans. Zuela contains some ancient inscriptions, and not long ago two store-rooms were discovered, full of indigo, supposed to have been a portion of the ancient commerce of the interior. Zuela is the principal town of the division of Shargheeah, or The East.

To the natural productions of Fezzan, already enumerated, may be added, the Trona[43], or "Sal Natrone" ofTripoline merchants. It is procured from the bottom of the lakes when the water evaporates during the summer season. Besides its use of being masticated in Barbary, it is exported to Europe in considerable quantities, for the manufacture of glass. A little gum-arabic is procured hereabouts, and the quantity is increasing.

Leo Africanus gives the following account of these oases, which, joining those of the Tibboos, connect almost in a straight line Northern with Central Africa:—

"Fezzen è similmente una grande abitazione, nella quale sono di grossi castelli e di gran casali, tutti abitati da un ricco popolo si di possessioni, como di danari; perciocchè sono ne' confini di Agadez e del diserto di Libia che confina con lo Egitto; ed è discosto dal Cairo circa a sessanta giornate; nè pel diserto altra abitazione si truova, che Augela che' é nel diserto di Libia. Fezzen è dominata da un signore che è come primario del popolo, il quale tutta la rendita del paese dispensa nel comun beneficio, pagando certo tributo a' vicini Arabi. Similmente in cotal paese è molta penuria di pane e di carne; e si mangia carne di camello, la quale è tuttavia carissima."—(Sixth Part, chap.liii.)

Formerly Fezzan was exceedingly rich and populous, but now it is become impoverished to the last degree, and many of its largest district populations are reduced to the starvation-point. Its inhabited oases would produce an infinitely greater amount of the materials of existence, if moderately cultivated, whilst many oases, once smiling paradisal spots in Desert, are altogether abandoned. The few merchants who have any money are those of Sockna, but which town, as before mentioned, does not properly belong to Fezzan, though itsrelations with these oases are intimate. Before the Turks and Abd-El-Geleel, Fezzan was governed by its own native Sultans, whose family was of the Shereefs of Morocco. But about thirty years ago one Mukhanee, or Mukni[44], as he is commonly called, entered into conspiracy with the Bashaw of Tripoli to seize the government of the native princes, who were thus deposed, and the usurped government continued in the hands of the Bashaw and his creatures, until it was seized in turn by the brave and enterprising Arab chieftain, Abd-El-Geleel. The immediate ancestors of this Sheikh were destroyed by old Yousef Bashaw, amongst whom Saif Nasser, grandfather of the Sheikh, and the head of the Oulad Suleiman, was a celebrated warrior. These chiefs and their tribes occupied the shores of the Syrtis (Sert ‮سرت‬), and were originally from Morocco. They might claim some connexion with the deposed Shereefian government. When all his ancestors, and especially his grandfather, Saif-Nasser, were butchered by the exterminating policy of Yousef Bashaw, Abd-El-Geleel, then a boy, was saved,—as an instrument of future vengeance in the hands of Providence—by the secret interference of the women of the Bashaw's family. As the boy, however, grew up, he could not fail to excite the suspicions of the Bashaw, for the old hoary-headed assassin saw in him, not darkly or dimly, the sword which was being drawn by avenging Heaven to cut off his family root and branch, perhaps his own head, and break up for ever his blood-cemented kingdom. These suspicions of a guilty conscience came at length to such a pitch, that the day arrived when theinnocent youth was to be strangled, so snatching violently away the instrument of vengeance from the hands of inexorable justice! But, on that very day, the Bashaw received intelligence of a threatened invasion from Mehemet Ali, and old Yousef knew this aspiring young warrior to be the only man who could unite the scattered and disaffected tribes of the Syrtis, and repel the invasion. Abd-El-Geleel was therefore forthwith dispatched to muster the Arabs, and make all things ready to meet the invading enemy. However, the alarms of invasion soon died away, and the young Sheikh was sent up to the province of Fezzan to quell some insurrection of the Arabs.

But finding himself surrounded continually with suspicious agents and cut-throat spies, who might in a moment compass his assassination, whilst the Arabsen routewere ripe for revolt, the wary Sheikh at once raised the standard of rebellion, and took possession, successively, of the town of Benioleed, the mountainous district of Gharian, the Syrtis, and the province of Fezzan, all which he held nine years with the style and power of a Sultan. Then the day of his fate also began to hasten on. The old Bashaw's family, polluted with the most cruel and odious crimes, fell by its own intestine divisions, ending in a civil war, which war was closed by the usurpation of the Turks. Abd-El-Geleel was now called upon to submit to the Sultan of Constantinople, a new and a more formidable master. The Sheikh refused submission, and declared and carried on war with the Turks. At length, however, his intrepid brother, Saif Nasser, was killed in battle, and the Sultan-Sheikh became dispirited, lost his courage and presenceof mind. Abd-El-Geleel madly surrendered himself, at the instigation of his own Sheikhs, who betrayed him to the Turks, and Belazee, the present Bashaw of Fezzan, who commanded the troops against him, on hearing of his voluntary surrender, sent word that the Arab prince was not to be brought alive into the camp. He was then instantly decapitated! This cruel assassination took place in 1842. The whole of the usurped districts held by the prince, now returned to the power of the Turks.

Asker Ali, the blood-thirsty tyrant then governing Tripoli, on hearing of this intelligence was drunk with joy. His insolence to the British Consul-General knew no bounds. The tyrant even boasted openly, that God would give into his hands his two other enemies, the British Consul-General, and the Vice-Consul of Mourzuk! The tyrant was fond of dipping in astrology and reading fate, and he was once surprised by his ministers, reading the certain destruction of these last two of his remaining enemies in a small portion of sand. The consequence of all this open violence naturally was his instant recal, Sir Stratford Canning threatening the Porte that, if it delayed his recal more than one hour, a British squadron would depose the tyrant, and replace him by another Bashaw. The ancient Bey of Bengazi, an exile in Malta, and one of the Caramanly family, or of the old Moorish dynasty of Bashaws, would have replaced Asker Ali. This tyrant, like all tyrants, on receiving his recal, was unmanned, and became weaker than a child, for the performance of acts of the darkest cruelty and the most arrant cowardice, are quite compatible. The tyrant Asker Ali shed tears! on leaving the country, wherehe had exercised the most atrocious cruelties. However, he was fated to execute one act of justice, in the style of the Turk, against the betrayers of Abd-El-Geleel; for the tyrant strangled all the subordinate Arab chieftains who had conspired against their master, and delivered him into the hands of the Turks,—the just vengeance of heaven against traitors. Asker Ali returned to Constantinople, and as is the custom now-a-days, the Porte, imitating the recent policy of the French Government, which Government, whenever it disavows its agents, decorates them as a matter of course,—so that to be, or get decorated, is to do something contrary to international law and justice,—following such a good and honest maxim, such a discovery in the science of diplomacy, I repeat, the Porte, in its sympathy, immediately conferred on the tyrant a new Pashalic. Thence, after a short time, Asker Ali continuing his horrible trade of official murder, consulting his book of fate and atoms of sand, and hanging up the good subjects of the Porte "without judge or jury," got again recalled; and I have not heard more of this miscreant Pasha. Asker Ali is a bright jewel of native Ottoman ferocity.

The Chief Abd-El-Geleel figures in the Slave-Trade Reports of Tripoli, 1843, as an abolitionist. But, according to M. Subtil, he was only bamboozling Col. Warrington[45]. This Subtil also pretends the chieftain was more inclined to French than English interests. Such a statement is probably a calumny of the sulphur-exploring adventurer in Tripoli, and was made to get himself popularity in France, or to help his schemes ofTripoli speculations. At any rate, it rests solely upon his very dubious authority. The Arab prince lost all by attempting too much. He reversed the maxim of "attempt much, and you will get a little." An arrangement was offered to the Sheikh, by which, on paying a contribution of 25,000 dollars per annum, and acknowledging the sovereignty of the Grand Signior, the usurped districts should be confirmed to him, and hereditarily to his family. But, like the ten thousand military chieftains, soldiers of fortune, who have gone before him, whose faith saw their star always in the ascendant, he sighed for Tripoli, and its Bashaw's Castle, and lost all.

The son of Abd-el-Geleel, on the assassination of his father, took the advice of Col. Warrington, and emigrated to Bornou, whose Sultan being of Arab extraction, received the emigrant hospitably as a brother, and assigned the unfortunate prince and his scattered followers, a district on the confines of Bornou, between the Tibboos and his own empire. Since then, the exiled prince has received a great accession of strength by a numerous reinforcement of the Oulad Suleiman, and is now strong enough himself to defend his newly acquired territory, should the Sultan of Bornou at any time be won over by the intrigues of the Turks, to cancel his concession of lands and attempt to expel the refugees. This movement of the Oulad Suleiman is connected with the further military exploits of Hasan Belazee.

About a twelvemonth ago, the inhabitants of the village of Omm-Errâneb ("mother of hares"), took it into their heads to revolt, and upon some frivolous pretext seized their neighbours' camels, as an intimation to the Bashaw of their seditious intentions. It is certain,however, from what followed in the course of events, that their revolt was concerted with the Oulad Suleiman. The villagers of Omm-Errâneb had not the shadow of excuse for their revolt, for they paid no contributions to the Bashaw, and merely acknowledged the Porte. This town is walled and consists of about two hundred houses, and at the time of the war had a population of some eight hundred souls, entirely Arab, but of the people only three hundred were armed. The Bashaw of Fezzan went out himself against the rebels, although extremely unwell, captured their city, and destroyed about one hundred and twenty of them. The Arab townsmen fought from house to house with the most determined bravery, obstinately retiring through their town from one gate to the other. The Bashaw would have slaughtered more of them, but he had no men to intercept their egress at the opposite gate of the town. His Highness lost only eight Turks and eight Arabs in the capture of this place. On the next day, to the astonishment of all, about six hundred of the Oulad Suleiman came up from the Syrtis, all fully armed, having left their families some two days' distance. The first thing they did was to capture a convoy of sick and wounded, in charge of the Greek Doctor, all of whom they immediately butchered in cold blood, with the one exception of the Doctor.

The account which the Doctor gives of his capture and escape is sufficiently characteristic.

The Assailant.—"May your father and mother be cursed, and your wife prostituted, you dog of a Turk!" (raising the sword to strike him).

The Supplicant.—"Oh! have mercy upon me, I'm a doctor," (falling on his knees).

An Arab, aside.—"Strike! strike! he lies."

The Assailant.—"May all your children beg their bread, and the curse of God be upon them!" (seizing him by the turban to cut off his head).

The Supplicant.—"Oh! have mercy upon me, I'm the brother of the English Consul at Mourzuk, your friend."

The Arab, aside.—"Hold! hold! let him go."

But the Doctor did not get off until he had emptied his pockets of his dollars. In this way only he rendered his supplications effectual.

In warfare, both Turks and Greeks have been in the habit of taking what money they possess with them, to redeem them from slavery if captured, or for any other available purpose in the case of defeat[46]. The Oulad Suleiman then attacked the Bashaw with extreme ferocity, and His Highness was in great danger. He was so unwell at the time that he could not sit upon his horse. But, when the troops began to waver, the officers took the Bashaw and set him upon his horse to show him to the soldiers. The sight of the veteran commander rallied their sinking courage. His Highness had just strength enough to hold up his sword and point to the enemy, on seeing which his troops rushed on impetuously, and obtained a complete victory over the Arabs. The Arabs were, however, only dispersed a moment, and were allowed to reunite their scattered bands and pursue tranquilly their way to Bornou, to the prince of their tribe. All the fugitives of the Omm-Errâneb accompanied them. On their march up, they ruthlessly sacked all the villages of Fezzan and the Tibboos, and arrivedat the quarters of their compatriots laden with booty. The Bashaw returned weary and exhausted, having no sufficient force to follow up the pursuit of the Oulad Suleiman, whose march was that of conquerors rather than fugitives. Indeed, the Bashaw was glad enough of their retreat to Bornou. Whilst this fighting was going on, the greatest confusion reigned at Mourzuk, and many of the wealthy inhabitants deposited their money and valuables in the house of the English Consul, for to add to their miseries, some malicious persons had reported the capture of the Bashaw, with all his army. It is probable the Turks are exceedingly well satisfied with the emigration of these restless and indomitable Oulad Suleiman. There cannot be a doubt of their being devoted to the English, but they are of difficult treatment for us. At the present time, they are dispersed in marauding parties on the route of Bornou, and were even an English tourist to fall into their hands, he might be maltreated before he was recognized as a British subject, and as such received the protection of their prince. This was the main difficulty which prevented my going up to Bornou.

It would seem, however, the Oulad Suleiman are getting tired of the burning climate and fevers of Bornou, and are sighing for the cool airs and healthy breezes of the shores of Syrtis, with the refreshing sight of the dark-blue waters of the Mediterranean. For on my return to Tripoli, I found the British Consul in negotiation with the Bashaw to procure their return to the Syrtis: of which since I have heard nothing. The Bashaw told the Consul they must write to the Sultan for pardon. The negotiation was placed in the handsof Mr. Gagliuffi, of whom they are passionately fond, and in whom they have the most implicit confidence. These malcontent Arabs were, of course, on friendly terms with the Touaricks of Ghat, as every attempt to resist the consolidation of the power of the Porte in Tripoli is viewed favourably by the Touaricks. But the marauding of the Oulad Suleiman in the interior, and the interruption of the commerce of Bornou, ill requite the asylum and hospitality afforded them by its Sultan, and for the sake of the commerce of The Sahara, the sooner they are back again to the Syrtis the better.

5th.—Rose early to write and prepare for my departure to Tripoli. Called on the Turkish officers to take leave. One and all observed, "Before you were going to h——, now you are going to heaven," alluding to my projected tour to Soudan. I was not of this opinion; for, after months and months in my dreams, night-dreams and waking-dreams, having acted over in my imagination all the dangers and privations of The Desert, and seen all the wonders of the mysterious regions of Nigritia, I set about my departure from Mourzuk with a heavy heart, lamenting my ill-starred luck and failure, seeing my mission abruptly cut off midway in its accomplishment. Mr. Gagliuffi arranged for my returning to Tripoli with the slave-caravan of Haj Essnousee, whom the reader will be pleased not to confound with my friend Essnousee of Ghadames, who had gone on to Soudan with the return caravan. Haj Essnousee had accompanying him two or three other traders, all of whom were natives of Sockna. Their slaves had notcome from Ghat, but had been brought three months ago by the Tibboos from Bornou.

I left Mourzuk late in the afternoon. I had heard the melancholy song of the slaves departing in the morning. I had now to overtake them this evening. Mr. Gagliuffi and the Doctor accompanied me outside the gates, and the Consul's Moorish servant conducted me to the first night's encampment, both of us riding horses. I do not regret turning off the direct route to Tripoli, and visiting Mourzuk before my return. For here I obtained a better idea of the Upper Provinces of Tripoli, and I am greatly indebted to the Vice-Consul for his assistance in my researches. I must acknowledge likewise the kind attentions of the Doctor and the Turkish officers. I bade Mr. Gagliuffi an affectionate farewell, who answered with the plain earnest old English of "God bless you!" I left the Consul in but indifferent health. Three times has he had the fever, yet he is determined to keep up to the last. When Mr. Gagliuffi first went to Mourzuk, he expected that Abd-El-Geleel, whose agent he was, as well as having the appointment of British Vice-Consul, would have been confirmed in his authority. But this Chief's assassination left the Consul to struggle against formidable difficulties, and Mr. Gagliuffi was obliged to apply to the British Government for pecuniary assistance, which has been tardily granted.

The appointment of Mr. Gagliuffi has fully answered all the objects originally projected. The traffic in slaves is well watched on this route, and reported upon. The Vice-Consul exercises a beneficial influence on theaffairs of Mourzuk, and is useful both to the governing power and the governed. The population of Fezzan have great faith in the integrity of Mr. Gagliuffi as agent of the British Government. The Consul assists them in various ways. Some twenty months ago he lent the people of Mourzuk money to meet the tribute demanded from them by the Government of Tripoli. His relations with Bornou have already been mentioned. The Vizier of the Sheikh lately, on his return from a pilgrimage to Mecca, stopped at the Consul's house, and Mr. Gagliuffi transacted all his business. Most strangers go to the Consul, in preference to the Ottoman authorities, or the people of the town. A great Maroquine Marabout came this way from Mecca, and deposited all his money, whilst in Mourzuk, in the hands of the Consul. The people were jealous that a Marabout should trust a Christian in preference to themselves, and remonstrated with the Marabout, who very drily replied to them, "You are not of the Faithful: you are all robbers. I am obliged to trust this Christian."

Unquestionably the establishment of English Consuls and Vice-Consuls throughout The Desert, and all the great cities of the Interior of Africa, would be an immense benefit to humanity, whilst it would equally promote British trade and interests, and the commerce of the entire world. One day, in happier times, there may be a Minister wise enough and bold enough to undertake this great enterprize, and to make this application of our resources, which eventually would be no sacrifice, for the benefit of all mankind. It will, however, require sacrifices from individuals as well as from Government, for a residence in The Desert or Central Africa is noconsular retreat, or diplomatic lounge for an invalid Minister. But if any sacrifice be made for foreign nations and countries, it surely should be made for Africa, on whose unhappy children we as a nation, in past times, have inflicted such enormous wrongs.

I shall only give one instance of the positive and material benefit which the people of Fezzan have derived from the establishment of the British Consul at Mourzuk. Mr. Gagliuffi induced the people to cultivate the tholh for collecting gums. Fifty cantars were collected the first year, and last year some two hundred. The whole of the population are now seized with a fit of gum-collecting, but they are not yet expert at making the incisions in the trees. In the course of time it will be a most profitable article of export for the people. This gum now sells for 10 or 12 mahboubs the cantar in Tripoli. Such has been entirely the "good work" of the English Consul.

We stopped at one of Mr. Gagliuffi's gardens to get some sweet water. This was a very nice plantation of palms overshadowing crops of corn. The Consul has several of these gardens, but all of a limited size. After sunset, we found the encampment at Terzah. It consisted of three merchants and their servants, about sixty slaves, most of whom were young women and girls, and twelve camels. Felt cold during the night—in fact caught cold, and not very well. Ought to have a tent. Said very happy in the prospect of returning to Tripoli, and as usual immediately made friends amongst the male and female slaves.

Footnotes:[42]Our former tourists say: "The opinion of everybody, Arabs, Tripolines, and our predecessors (Mr. Ritchie and Captain Lyon), were unanimous as to the insalubrity of its air." And "Every one of us, some in a greater or less degree, had been seriously disordered; and amongst the inhabitants themselves, anything like a healthy-looking person was a rarity." Denham observes also that to account for the sickliness of Mourzuk was a very difficult matter, and required a wiser head than his.[43]Trona, ‮الطرون‬, and ‮ترونه‬ "Carbonate of Soda." The greatTronalake is near Germa or Garama.[44]‮مُخني‬[45]See "Histoire d'Abd-el-Geleel, Sultan de Fezzan, assassiné en 1842."Revue de L'Orient, Sept., 1844.[46]The Doctor afterwards recovered his money, the Arab who captured him having fallen in the skirmish.

[42]Our former tourists say: "The opinion of everybody, Arabs, Tripolines, and our predecessors (Mr. Ritchie and Captain Lyon), were unanimous as to the insalubrity of its air." And "Every one of us, some in a greater or less degree, had been seriously disordered; and amongst the inhabitants themselves, anything like a healthy-looking person was a rarity." Denham observes also that to account for the sickliness of Mourzuk was a very difficult matter, and required a wiser head than his.

[43]Trona, ‮الطرون‬, and ‮ترونه‬ "Carbonate of Soda." The greatTronalake is near Germa or Garama.

[44]‮مُخني‬

[45]See "Histoire d'Abd-el-Geleel, Sultan de Fezzan, assassiné en 1842."Revue de L'Orient, Sept., 1844.

[46]The Doctor afterwards recovered his money, the Arab who captured him having fallen in the skirmish.

Well of Esh-Shour.—Village of Dillaim.—Tying up a Female Slave to the Camel.—Village of Gudwah.—Well of Bel-Kashee Faree.—Melancholy Songs of the Slaves.—Reflections on the Slave Trade; Christian Republicans, and the Scottish Free Kirk.—Well of Mukni.—El-Bab.—She-Camels with Foals.—How American Consuls justify Slavery.—Arrival at Sebhah, and description of the People.—Cruelty of a Moorish Boy to the young Female Slaves.—Prohibited Food in matters of Religion.—The Taste of a Locust.—Anecdotes related by the Bashaw of Mourzuk and Mr. Gagliuffi.—Divinations of the Tyrant Asker Ali.—Continual delays.—Altercation with a Moor about Religion.—The Songs of the Female Slaves interpreted.—Version of Mr. Whittier, the American Poet.—TheAmor Patriæof the Negroes.—Primitive Style of playing Draughts.—Games and Wine prohibited by the Koran.—Sebhah, a City of the Dead.—Oases and extent of the Sebhah district.—Fezzanee Palms bear Fruit without Water.—Town of Timhanah.—Bad Odour of the Turks in these Oases.—Essnousee, an atrocious Slave Driver.—Stroke of a Scorpion.

6th.—Roseearly, and made a long day. Passed a few dwarf wild palms. Country about here is mostly sandy, and in hollow flats. Encamped by the well of Esh-Shour. Our course east and north-east. We passed by the small village of Dillaim. One of the Moors travelling with us said to me, "Oh, master, how could you think of going to Soudan! How you would have suffered!" I returned, "No noble enterprizes are achieved without great mental and bodily suffering." This remark impressed him in my favour, and we continued great friends all the route to Tripoli.

This morning Haj Essnousee, being on foot, called out for his camel to stop, in a tone which denoted he had some important business on hand. I turned to see what was the matter, and so did all, as if something peculiar was about to happen. I then saw Essnousee bringing up a slave girl about a dozen years of age, pulling her violently along. When he got her up to the camel, he took a small cord and began tying it round her neck. Afterwards, bethinking himself of something, he tied the cord round the wrist of her right arm. This done, Essnousee drove the camel on. In a few minutes she fell down, and the slave-master, seeing her fallendown, and a man attempting to raise her up, cried out, "Let her alone, cursed be your father! you dog." The wretched girl was then dragged on the ground over the sharp stones, being fastened by her wrist, but she never cried or uttered a word of complaint. Her legs now becoming lacerated and bleeding profusely, she was lifted up by Essnousee's Arabs. She then, however, continued to hold on, the rope being also bound round her body so as to help her along. Thus she was dragged, limping and tumbling down, and crippled all the day, which was a very long day's journey. Whether she feigned sickness, or sulked, or was exhausted, I leave the reader to judge. Neither I nor her cruel master could tell. Indeed, such is the nature of the Negro character it is impossible to tell. A slave may sulk, and may not; whilst also ill and dying, they may be flogged on the point of death, as Haj Ibrahim flagellated his dying victim. No doubt, at times these wretched slaves, when worn down and exhausted, play some innocent tricks to get a ride. Nevertheless, such is the power of sulleninsensibility which slaves can command, that the brutal masters may flog them to death without finding out whether they are really ill, or only sulky.

7th.—On our return from a difficult journey, everything is, or appears to be easy. We think little or nothing of it, especially if we have got with us a new supply of matters of equipment and provisions. So I rose early with the most profound indifference of the month's journey before me, as if travelling in old England, and I must likewise add, with less anxiety for the safety of my baggage. Desert baggage-stealers there are indeed none, and pickpockets and pilferers are as rare as the birds, which now and then are seen hopping about the wells, picking up what they can chance to find.

Our course is north, over an undulating sandy soil. About 11a.m.we had in view Ghudwah, and in an hour more we reached the village. Ghudwah is a cluster of wretched mud hovels, rendered tolerable by being placed amidst a wood of palms. The squalor of these humble dwellings is, in truth, forgotten amongst the patches of beautiful green corn, some already in the ear, and the graceful, towering, all-over-hanging palm-trees. In a wady on the left were also forests of palms. The oases of Fezzan are, in fact, but a series of these palm forests. Unquestionably a great body of water must be under and near the surface. But we must keep to the designation of oases in describing the province of Fezzan, of which we had a convincing proof this morning; for, during four or five hours we traversed a country in every respect desert, covered with small black stones, defying all attempts at cultivation, and this desert land apparently surrounds and intersects the entire series of the oases of Fezzan.

When we got clear of Ghudwah we halted for the day, about 2p.m., near a well called Bel-Kashee-Faree. I was glad to halt, both for the sake of the slaves, and myself. To-day the same girl was not tied to the camel, but a younger one. She also, poor thing, was dragged along, limping as she went, and whenever she stopped a moment to tie up her sandals, she had the greatest difficulty to reach again the camel. I was annoyed to see none of her sister-slaves give her a lift and help her on to get up to the camel, so that she might continue to be assisted by its march. Some of the poor things, however, have their intimate friends in their fellow bondswomen. The girl dragged on yesterday, had her faithful companion, bringing her water and dates. But in spite of all their sufferings, the poor bondswomen keep up well. The young women sing and sometimes dance on the road, while the boys ape the Turkish soldiers whom they had seen exercise in Mourzuk, walking in file, holding up sticks on their shoulders, and crying out "Shoulder arms!" or words to that effect. The guileless lads of Africa think these two magic words to be the quintessence of Turkish and European civilization, and that which renders the white men superior to their sable fathers. Two of the boys are dressed in old soldiers' jackets and look very droll. So we journey along as well as we can.

But whilst surveying the march of this troop of human cattle for the market, I can't but think how dreadful a trade is this of buying and selling our fellowcreatures! The Moors and Arabs of the ghafalah are civil enough. They discover great curiosity at seeing me write, and not a little surprise, like all I have met with, to find me writing Arabic, whilst some of themselves cannot. They are all of Sockna.

It is now near sunset, but I am not going to write a description of a Saharan sunset, which this evening offers nothing but sheets of bright yellow flame. Towards the east, the palms, underwood, and herbage make me fancy myself in the midst of a boundless circle of cultivation, for I see no "darksome desert" through the pale skyey openings of the thick verdure. My feelings thus would be soothed and gratified, were it not that the sounds—always to me so melancholy—of the Negroes' song, as they clap their hands and sing and dance their native sports, are heard near my encampment. Then again I feel happy in the reflection that God gives moments of joyous happiness even to slaves. Why not be soothed to hear this song of slaves? What a mysterious thing is Providence! Not to the masters of these slaves, who are now stretched in dreamy listlessness on the ground, gives God such jocund innocent delights; not to the wiser and wisest, to the stronger or strongest, (as "the battle is not to the strong,") gives God happiness; but to the poorest, weakest of mortals, the forlorn, helpless female slave! As I have mentioned, I heard this same song—to me so melancholy and disheartening—as the slaves were departing from Mourzuk. I was then quietly writing, but as the mournful accents broke on my ear, I started from my usual propriety of feeling, and the courage which carried me over The Desert gave away under the pressure of these strange Nigritian sounds ofthe poor black children, the desolate daughters of the banks of the mysterious Niger. The tears rushed to my eyes, but I stopped them in their lachrymal sluices, and called it folly, for to weep I cannot, I will not. Rather let me curse the slave-dealers of every land and clime. Yes, let this foolish sensibility be turned to exasperation; let me curse those proud Republicans, in whose heart there is no flesh, whose flag bears impiously against Heaven the stripes and the scars of the slaves! These I cursed, and those who in the hypocrisy of their souls, and their sanctimonious pretensions to Church freedom, received the gold tainted with the blood of the slave, to build up their Free Kirk! But why curse? What impotence! Why not leave the avenging bolt of wrath to that God, who "hath made of one blood all the nations of men, for to dwell on all the face of the earth?"

8th.—Rose at sunrise and started with the day. Route north and north-west, over an undulating gravelly plain. A few tholh trees, and one solitary tholh by the road-side, which at a great distance forms a very conspicuous object. A single tree in The Desert always excites more interest in the mind of the reflective traveller than a forest. Solitary palms are often seen near the coast. At noon, reached the well called Beer Mukhanee, after the distinguished traitor, who dug it, but who betrayed and ruined this country. Many a tyrant and traitor has left behind him some monument of utility, to relieve the weight of his infamous name with posterity. The well is very deep and the water good, but we did not take in any, as wells are frequent hereabouts. Continued our course until sunset, a long day, and encamped at the base of a small mountain, calledBabān, or "Two Doors," and by others, El-Bab, or "The Door." The Door and the Gate, like the famous "Iron Gate" in Algeria, are frequent names of rocky hills and mountains in this part of Africa. Ghaljeewan, a mountainous district of the south-eastern part of Aheer, is called "the door of Aheer." On the Danube there is a reef of ugly and huge rocks, over which the current of the river dashes furiously. The Turks call this "The Iron Gate" of the Danube.

On the road the camels had no herbage to eat. Some of them ate the dried dung of camels and horses. We have a young camel with us about four months old; it continues to suck. It has no frolic or fun in its actions, and is as serious as its mother. The foal of the camel frolics in awkward antics a few days after its birth, but apparently soon loses all its infant mirth. In the first place, the foal has to walk as long a day as its mother, enough to take all the fun out of the poor little thing; then, it sees all its more aged companions very serious and melancholy, and soon imbibes their sombre spirit, assuming their slow solemn gait. The mother-camel never licks or shows any particular fondness for its young beyond opening her legs for the foal to suck. At best, the camel, as an animal, is a most ungainly and unlovely creature. What surprises me most are the bites of the male-camel. He bites his neighbour, without passion or any apparent provocation, and simply because he has nothing else to doen route, or nothing arrests his attention.

To write in the open Desert is no sinecure. When I go under the shade from the sun the wind blows unpityingly, when in the sun the flies torment me. Our grandslave-driver Haj Essnousee, is most determinedly bent on showing himself a perfect master in his profession. This afternoon he set to work beating one poor girl most shockingly for not keeping up with the rest. Nearly all got whipped along to-day. Gave a ride to one little fellow, hardly five years of age, who limped sadly. There was no sulk in him. He was cheerful with all his sufferings. Our road is strewn with chumps of petrified wood.

Was thinking to-day, for whilst travelling with slaves the subject is most disagreeably pressed upon you, even to nausea, of the reasons offered by American Consuls in vindication of slavery in the United States. Mr. P—— thus apologized:—"I once spoke to a male slave who earned plenty of money. I said, 'Do you want to be freed?' 'Oh no,' he replied, 'I get fifty dollars a month. I give my master forty and keep ten for myself. Why should I wish to be free?'" Mr. M—— said to me one day, "My wife has slaves, but they are well taken care of. They each have two new suits of clothes per year, and the doctor's bill for each comes to two or three dollars also per year." To such miserable drivelling as this are men, of some education and standing in society, and the representatives of the free as well as the slave States, driven to bolster up the nefarious system of holding in bondage their fellow creatures! In the one case, a man robs his brother of the rightful fruits of his labour. This robbery is perpetrated coolly and deliberately through a series of years. In the other case, the taking care of a slave, as every humane man must take care of his horse, and give him good beans, hay, and a warm stable, is made the corner stone of "theliving lie" of liberty on the southern transatlantic plains.

9th.—Rose with the sun, throwing his orient beams of gold athwart all the plain, and purpling the rocky block of El-Bab. I mounted the rock, and saw Sebhah in the north, where we were to rest in the afternoon. There was a huge stone balancing on a ledge of the rock, which apparently wanted but a feather's weight to throw it down. Bent on mischief, I was going to heave it down, when the people called to me to desist. On descending, they told me the stone had fallen from the clouds and caught there; it was unlucky to touch it. A demon sits upon it every night and swings himself as a child is swung in a swing. Continued our route over a sandy plain, until we arrived at a line of palms stretching east and west, as far as the eye could see. At 11a.m., we entered the suburbs of the town. After a little rest I went to see what sort of a place it was. Found it a tolerably well-built place; the houses are constructed of stone and mud-mortar; some have even got a touch of lime or pipe-clay wash. Several of the streets are covered in at the top like those of Ghadames. Very few people stirring about, being occupied in the suburban gardens. Fell in with a cobbler, a tailor, and an old pedagogue with an ABC board. Discussed the politics of the place with them all. They took me at first for a Turkish Rais coming from Mourzuk. When they found I was not a Turk, they began to abuse the Turks. "The Turks," said they, "take all our money and leave us nothing to eat but dates. The curse of God be upon them!" Whenever Turkish officers stop here they levy contributions. The town is walled inwith mud and stone-work, and there are several towers around it forming part of the wall, pierced with loopholes for firing musketry therefrom. Most of these towns are built for protecting the people against the Arabs, who can do nothing against a wall, even were it only a brick thick. One small piece of cannon would be enough to batter down every one of these Saharan-fortified towns. A part of this town is placed on a small hill, like Ghat. Sebhah has a dull dingy appearance at a distance. There is no lime-wash to give it that agreeable aspect which many Moorish towns have, although always very delusive when one enters their gates.

This forenoon, a slave-girl was sadly goaded along. An Arab boy of about the same age was her goad, who was whipping her and goading her along with a sharp piece of wood. Sometimes the young rascal would poke up her person. I could not see this without interfering, although I am afraid to interfere. She had got far behind, and the boy was thus tormenting her like a young imp. I made him take one hand, and I the other. But we could not get her up to the camel on which she might lay hold by means of a rope, and so get dragged along. We then set her upon a donkey, but she was too unwell to ride, and fell off several times, the cruel rogue of a boy beating her every time she fell. What annoyed me more, her companions in bondage, those hearty and well, set up a loud yell of laughter every time she fell off. I'm sick at heart of writing these shocking details. But the reader will not be surprised that the Moors make bad slave-masters, when they have such an early training as this little reprobate boy, the nephew of Haj Essnousee. I often wonderedhow this boy, who was some thirteen years of age, and fully capable of the sentiment of love, in a climate like Africa, could torment these poor girls of his own age with such brutality. If he found one lagging behind, and at some distance from the grown-up men, he would strip her, throw her down, and begin tormenting her in the way I have already mentioned. I spoke to his uncle about it, but without avail. I then refused to carry on my camel some choice dates, which he had in his charge for Tripoli. But it was of no use, the boy was the worthy pupil of his uncle, a little fiend of ferocity.

My Sockna companions of travel chat with me, but their conversation offers nothing new or remarkable. "There is no money in Fezzan. Our city (Sockna) only has a few merchants. Mukhanee was originally a merchant, and a member of the Divan of Mourzuk. He ruined Fezzan." One of the people of this place said to me, "Better if you were a Mussulman, and ate and drank like us." I replied, "I eat everything good, and never fast to make myself ill." This plain speech amazed them. But one said, somewhat to my surprise, "That only which is not good, and not fit to eat, is haram (prohibited)." I immediately said "Amen" to this, for generally the Moors maintain that pork and other things of the kind prohibited, are not good because they are prohibited, and not on account of any intrinsic badness in the things themselves. They, of course, asked me what sort of places were England and London. It's little use to answer such questions; they cannot realize the idea or forms of an European city, even in imagination. Describing the riches of London, one observed ill-naturedly, "Oh, God gives the infidels peace in thisworld, and fire in the next." I then thought it time to leave off my description. Whilst we were chatting, a locust was caught and roasted. I tasted it, and found it not a bad shrimp. The locust requires salt and oil to make it palatable. The Arabs swear the locusts have a king, which perfectly agrees with—Καὶ ἔχουσιν ἐ φ' αὐτῶν βασιλέα: (Rev. ix. 11.) The name given to this insect monarch as perfectly corresponds with their migratory devastations,Απολλυων, "destroyer," for before their march are smiling fields of verdure and fruitfulness, whilst behind them are desert and devastation.

I find in this part of my journal several anecdotes of the Bashaw of Mourzuk and Mr. Gagliuffi, which seem to have come to my recollectionen route. The Tibboo chief before mentioned, whose jurisdiction extends over a wretched village, observed one day to the Bashaw, "The Sultan of the Tibboos (himself) inquires after the health of the Sultan of the Turks. But I am well, therefore the Sultan of the Turks is well; and if I am not well, then the Sultan of the Turks is not well." His Excellency replied, menacingly, "You're right, but take care you don't get unwell, for by G—d if you do get unwell, and so make my Sultan unwell, I'll come and cut all your people's throats, and burn down your city." The Tibboo chief, feeling the force of the argumentum ad hominem, started out of the audience-chamber in a fright, and made off from Mourzuk as quick as possible. Before, indeed, he could get off, he began to fancy himself ill, and was ill with fright, and expected every moment to be within the clutches of the Bashaw. I related to the Bashaw the story of the Governor of Ghat, having the sword of his ancestors amongst the trophies at Constantinople. The facetious Bashaw observed to me:—"You ought to have said, 'I'll fetch you the sword, Haj Ahmed, if you'll promise like a good little boy not to cut your fingers with it.'"

Mr. Gagliuffi was well acquainted with the tyrant Asker Ali. The tyrant once dreamt he should kill Abd-El-Geleel, and his brother, and some other chiefs, but one would escape. The escaping Sheikh was Ghoma, now an exile at Trebisonde. This dream was actually related and retailed in Tripoli two years before the events happened. One day Mr. Gagliuffi called on the tyrant, and found him very thoughtful divining in the rumel ("sand"). "What's the matter?" asked the Consul. His Highness exclaimed, "Oh, I'm much troubled. An Arab chief has come here professing allegiance to my government. But he's a great villain, for such I have found him in the sand." The next day the unfortunate Arab was assassinated. Many an honest man was murdered by the fortuitous throw and fall, and scattering of these atom sands, in the cruel fingers of the tyrant. Who will deny after this that the events of our life are (to us) so many accidents? A Touarghee Sheikh once proposed to Mr. Gagliuffi to sell his country to the Sultan of the English. The Consul, who took this as serious, ought to have considered it a joke of the grave Touarghee. The Touaricks can tell the most funny stories, and make the most cutting gibes at their neighbours, without moving a single muscle of the face.

10th.—We are to stay here to-day and to-morrow, in order that our slave-masters may obtain provisions. These people can do nothing without losing an enormous quantity of time. It breaks my heart to lose so muchprecious time. I could have got up to Soudan before I shall get down to Tripoli. A Touarghee once talked to me of travelling, and on my telling him I was going to The East, to the New World (America), and many other places, he exclaimed, "Allah Akbar, thou fool, thy life isn't long enough." And certainly it would not were we to travel at the rate of our Saharans. They never measure a man's life and what he can do in it. The day present, and its evils, is with them enough. The proverb quoted by the great teacher of Christianity, "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," is much better adapted to ancient than modern society, or rather to Oriental and African than European society. The European is obliged to think of the morrow, and take thought for the morrow, or he would not be able to live; in these days of restless and overpowering competition he would die of starvation. One of the Moors tried to write the name of Mahomet in Roman letters. I have seen several Moors attempt this; one did it pretty well.

At noon, had a strong altercation with a Moor of the town about religion, who introduced the subject and was very insulting. Being out of the hands of the Touaricks I have less delicacy on these matters, and so I boldly contradicted his notions. I told him, with all frankness, "It was impossible for a good Christian ever to become a Mussulman: a bad Christian might, one who had robbed, or murdered, or run away from his country. Such were the Spaniards who run away from the prisons of exile in Morocco. Mahomet witnessed that Jesus was a true prophet; and Jesus witnessed that Moses was a prophet, and Moses prophesied of Jesus. But neither Jesus, nor Moses, nor any other prophet,witnessed to the truth of the mission of Mahomet." This amazed him excessively. Seeing this, I added, "Never attempt to convert a Christian, or speak to him about religion; for in the end you are sure to be dissatisfied." The zealot immediately changed the conversation. Several of the people of the town listened to our argument, but they made no observation, except one old man, who observed laconically, "Mahometans, Jews, and Christians, are all rogues; but God is merciful." This, I think, is about the truth.

This evening the female slaves were unusually merry and excited in singing, and I had the curiosity to ask Said what they were singing about. As several spoke the language of his own country, Mandara and Bornou, he had no difficulty in answering the question. I had often asked the Moors about the merry songs and plaintive dirges of the negresses, but could never get a satisfactory answer.

Said replied at first, "Oh, they're singing of Rubbee (God)."

"What do you mean?" I rejoined impatiently.

"Oh, don't you know," he continued; "they ask God to give them the Atkah[47]."

I.—"Is that all?"

Said.—"No; they say, 'Where are we going to? The world is large, O God! Where are we going? O God! Shall we return again to our country?'"

I.—"Is that all, what else?"

Said.—"They call to their remembrance their own country and say, 'Bornou was a pleasant country, full of all good things, but this is a bad country and we are miserable, and are ready to sink down.'"

I.—"Do they say anything more?"

Said.—"No, they repeat these words over and over again, and add, 'O God! give us our âtkah, let us go to our dear home.'"

I am not surprised the Moors never gave me a satisfactory answer respecting the songs said and sung by their slaves. Who can assert that the above words are not an appropriate song? What could have been more congenially adapted to their present woeful condition? And what language could have given us a more favourable opinion of the feeling and intellect of the African? May pitying Heaven hear the prayers of these poor creatures, give them their liberty, restore them to their country! It is not to be wondered at, these poor bondswomen should cheer up their hearts with words and sentiments like these; but, oftentimes, their sufferings were too great for them to strike up this melancholy dirge, and the silence of the dreadful Desert was many days unsubdued, uninterrupted by these mournful strains!

I take this opportunity of noticing the several love ditties and songs about gallant chiefs and warriors returning from battle, the lovers of the sable maidens, attributed to these poor female slavesen routeover The Desert, as found in some books of travel, which, I believe, are the invention of slave-masters, embellished by the traveller. No; their song is, and was, and always will be, because the spontaneous voice of distressed nature,appealing to the justice and help of the Author of all being!

"O God! give us our freedom. Where are we going? The world is large and terrifies us.

"Shall we return again to our dear homes, where we lived happily and enjoyed every blessing?

"But we are in a horrible country; all things frown upon us; we suffer, and are ready to die.

"O God! give us our freedom[48]."

Mr. J. G. Whittier, the distinguished American poet, has rendered these words into verse. He says:—

"The following is an attempt to versify this melancholy appeal of distressed human nature to the help and justice of God. Nothing can be added to its simple pathos.

Back to Index Next