Had a visit from some score of Touarick women, of all complexions, tempers, and ages. After staring at me for some time with amazed curiosity and silence, they became restless. Not knowing what to do with them, I took out a loaf of white sugar, cut it into pieces, and then distributed it amongst them. The scene now suddenly changed, joy beamed in every eye, and every one let her tongue run most volubly. They asked me, "Whether I was married—whether the Christian women were pretty—whether prettier than they—and whether, if not married, I should have any objection to marry one of them?" To all which questions I answered in due categorical form:—"I was not married—the Christian women were pretty, but they, the Touarick women, were prettier than Christian women—and, lastly, I should see whether I would marry one of them when I came from Soudan." These answers were perfectly satisfactory. But then came a puzzler. They asked me, "Which was the prettiest amongst them?" I looked at one, and then at another, with great seriousness, assuming very ungallant airs, (the women the meanwhile giggling and coquetting, and some throwing back their barracans, shawls I may call them, farther from their shoulders, baring their bosoms in true ball-room style,) and, at last, falling back, and shutting my eyes, placing my left hand to my forehead, as if in profound reflection, I exclaimed languidly, and with a forced sigh, "Ah, I can't tell, you are all so pretty!" This created an explosion of mirth, some of the more knowing ones intimating by their looks, "It's lucky for you that you have got out of the scrape." But an old lady, close by me, was very angry with me;—"You fool, Christian, take one of the young ones; here's my daughter." It is necessary to explain, that the woman of the Touaricks is not the woman of the Moors and Mussulmans generally. She has here great liberty, walks about unveiled, and takes an active part in all affairs and transactions of life. Dr. Oudney justly remarks, "The liveliness of the women, their freeness with the men, and the marked attention the latter paid them, formed a striking contrast with other Mohammedan States." Batouta mentions a Berber tribe of Western Sahara, as having similar manners. He says:—"This people has very singular manners. So the men are not at all jealous of their women. The women are not at all embarrassed in the presence of the men; and though they, the women, are very assiduous at their prayers, they appear always uncovered." He adds, that certain women, of free manners, are shared amongst the people without exciting the feelings of jealousy amongst the men. It is the same with the Touaricks, but it is the absence of this Mussulman, or oriental jealousy, of husbands of their wives, which distinguishes the Touaricks from other Mahometans of North Africa, and connects the social condition of the Touaricks more with European society. On departing, I gave the Touarick ladies some pins, and they, not knowing how to use them, (for pins are never imported into The Desert, though needles in thousands,) I taught them a good practical lesson by pinning two of them together by their petticoats, which liberty, on my part, I need not tell the reader, increased the mirth of this merry meeting of Touarghee ladies prodigiously. I certainly felt glad that we could travel in a country and laugh and chat with, and look at the women without exciting the intolerable jealousy of the men. I think there is not a more dastardly being than a jealous husband. Amongst the Moors a traveller does not know whether he can venture to speak to a man's wife or not, or whether he can make her the most trifling present in return for the supper which she may cook.
Afterwards had a very different visit of four Arabs, who came with the evident intention of getting something out of me by main force. I resisted to the last, and to their astonishment. I told them, all my presents were now for the Touaricks, and if they did not leave the house I would get them bastinadoed on their return to The Mountains. The worst class of people which I have met with, since I left Tripoli, are some of these Arabs, who are the most dogged brazen-faced beggars and spongers, banditti in the open day. Yesterday arrived the powerful Aheer camel-driver and conducteur Kandarka Bou Ahmed, the Kylouwee, whose arrival produced a sensation. Some call him a Sheikh. He usually conducts the Ghadamsee merchants between this and Aheer, and as far as Kanou. It is an established custom or law, in The Desert, that the people of each district or country shall enjoy the privilege of conducting the caravans. The Touaricks of Ghat conduct the merchants from Ghadames to Ghat, and the Touaricks of Aheer the merchants from Ghat to Aheer, and so of the rest of the route, as far as Kanou, the final destination of the Soudan caravan.
My Ghadamsee friend Bel Kasem came up to me today, and whispered in my ear the question, "If slaves would be allowed to be sold now in the market of Tripoli?" I answered frankly in the affirmative, but added, "I did not think it would last much longer." All the merchants now look upon me as an anti-slavery agent. The affair of Silva and Levi, if it prejudice the people against me on one side, gives me some consequence on the other, on account of the steps which the British Consul took against those merchants, or caused them to take. I went to see Bel Kasem in the evening, who is but a mere trader. He gave me this account of his slave-dealing:—"I have purchased five slaves at forty mahboubs each. At Tripoli I shall sell them at sixty. The Pasha takes ten duty, and I have only ten for profit and the expenses, of conveying the slaves from Ghat to Tripoli, feeding them as well here as there. What, where is my profit?" I echoed, "Where?" This is a fair specimen of the market. He complains of the dearness of the slaves, although an unusual number, more than a thousand, have been brought to the Souk or Mart. Haj Ibrahim and some other large purchasers have greatly and unexpectedly increased the demand. He says Haj Ibrahim purchases large quantities of goods on credit, or for bills of six and nine months from European merchants in Tripoli. These he exchanges against slaves in Ghat, and then returns and sells his slaves, and pays the bills as they come due. In this way, it will be seen, the Desert slave-traffic is carried on upon the shoulders of European merchants. Haj Ibrahim considers his profits at twenty per cent. The people say he gets more. My friend, the Arab of Derge, called late, to borrow five dollars of me. He said, "I have purchased a slave for twenty-five dollars; at present I have only twenty. You and I, Yâkob, have been always friends. Lend me five dollars and I will pay you in a few days. The slave is a little old but cheap, he is to work in the gardens at Ghadames." I then explained to him the law of England on slavery, which greatly surprised him. The next day this Derge Arab brought in another fellow to ask me to lend him money to buy a slave, just to see whether I should make the same reply to him also.
19th.—Rose early, and better in health. I begin to feel at home in Ghat, amidst the redoubtable Touaricks. I find them neither monsters nor men-eaters[2]. Nevertheless, all the swaggering Arabs and Arab camel-drivers are here very quiet and civil amongst their masters, the Touaricks. I frequently bully them now about their past boasting and present cowardice. Two of the Arabs who had attempted to extort a present from me I met at Haj Ibrahim's house. I lectured them roundly, telling them I would report them to the Pasha, for they were greater banditti than the Touaricks. This had a salutary effect. I was not troubled afterwards with these brazen-faced begging Arabs.
This morning paid another visit to Haj Ahmed, the Governor. Found him very friendly. He talked politics. I explained to him the circumstances of the war between France and Morocco, suppressing the most disagreeable parts for a Mahometan. In the course of conversation I was surprised to hear from Haj Ahmed, "Now, since these twelve years, Tripoli belongs to the English." I used vainly all my eloquence in Arabic to convince him of this error, which has been propagated since the removal of Asker Ali from the Pashalic of Tripoli at the instance of the British Consul. I then spoke to his Excellency of the necessity of sending some trifling presents to the Queen of England, as a sign of friendship, begging him to speak to Shafou. He replied, "The Touaricks have nothing but camels." The Governor has a tremendous family. First of all, he has seven wives and concubines, then nine sons and six daughters. One of his female slaves repeated to me all their names, a complete muster-roll. When I visited the Governor again, I congratulated him upon having so large a family. He observed smiling, with great self-complacency, "Why, Yâkob, do you call this a large family? What is a large family with you?" I told him eight and even six children was a large family. At this he affected great surprise, for he had heard that generally European females have three or four children at a birth. Haj Ahmed is a man of about fifty, rather good-looking, stout and hard-working, but inclining to corpulency, very unusual in The Desert. He is not very dark, and is of Arab extraction, and boasts that his family came from Mecca or Medina. He pretends that his ancestors were amongst the warriors who besieged Constantinople, previous to its capture by the Turks. He is a native of Touat, but has been settled here twenty years, where he has built himself a palace and planted large gardens. He is a shrewd and politic man, and has, in a certain degree, those jealous feelings of Christians which are peculiar to the Moor. He dresses partly in the Moorish and partly in the Touarick style, indeed, like all the Moors of Ghat, who are called Ghateen. He is, perhaps, not very learned, but is assisted by his nephew, a young Shereef of great learning and amiable manners. I asked some of the Ghatee people, who was their Sultan? They replied, "Haj Ahmed; Shafou is not our Sultan." The Touaricks, however, have absolute control over all affairs, and Haj Ahmed stands in the same relation to Shafou, being governor of the town, as the Sheikh El-Mokhtar, who is governor of Timbuctoo, under the Sultan of Jinnee. But, Haj Ahmed, himself, disclaims all temporal authority, he repeatedly says in our conversation, "I am not Sheikh, or Kaëd, I'm only Marabout. All the people here are equal. When you write to the Consul, tell him I'm only Marabout." The fact is, there are so many Sheikhs here that it is no honour to be a Sheikh. The honour is too cheap to be valued, and is as much repudiated as a French Cross of the Legion of Honour. Haj Ahmed repudiates being a Sheikh most stoutly. Notwithstanding this repudiation, the Marabout is obliged to decide upon the affairs of the city, even when Shafou is in town. The Marabout pretends he does not receive presents like the Sheikhs, but he always received what I offered him, and which was more than what I gave to some of the Sheikhs. His palace stands west, two-thirds of a mile from the city walls. Here he reigns supreme, priest and king, as Melchisedech of patriarchal times, surrounded with his numerous family of wives and concubines, and about fifty male and female slaves. Some of the slaves live in huts near his palace, or in the gardens. The Marabout is the largest landed proprietor of Ghat, but he also trades a good deal, and is now sending some of his children to Soudan to trade in slaves.
Yesterday evening Mohammed Kāfah sent me a bowl of sopped bread, fat, and gravy, garnished with two or three little pieces of meat. This is the first act and specimen of hospitality on the part of the townsmen. Kafah is a considerable merchant, and one of the three or four grandees of the place. Bel Kasem called out to me to-day, for he lives next door, "Yâkob! Yâkob! Aye! for God's sake, one of my slaves is ill, bring me some medicine to purge him, quick, quick, he'll die." I had nothing to give the poor creature but a worm-powder, ordering half the quantity, all my medicines being distributed, except those for the eyes. Undoubtedly many of the slaves must die before they arrive in Tripoli. They are mostly fed on dates, the profit of the commerce is so small as not to allow wholesome food being given them. The slaves are brought from countries teeming with plenty of meat, grain, and vegetables, whilst they are fed with herbage and dates en route from Aheer to Ghat. What wonder then they die?
Every body, as was the case at Ghadames, high and low, rich and poor, young and old, wishes to convert me into a good Mussulman, being mortified that so quiet a Christian should be an infidel. An old Sheikh paid me a visit to-day, and began, "Now, Christian, that you have come into this country, I hope you will find everything better than in your own country, and become a Mussulman, one loved of God. Come to my house, leave your infidel father and mother. I have two daughters. I will give you both for wives, and seven camels besides. This will make you a Sheikh amongst us. You can also be a Marabout, and spend your life in prayer." I excused myself, by saying, "I had engagements in my country. My Sultan would brand me with disgrace, and I should be fetched out of this country by the Turks, who were always the friends of the English." The Sheikh sighed, raised up his aged body, and departed, mumbling something, a blessing or a curse, upon my head. A younger son of Haj Ahmed came in and addressed me, "Why not say, 'There is one God', and 'Mahomet is the prophet of God?'" I told him a Christian was prohibited from making such a confession. On paying a visit to Mohammed Kafah, who sent me the supper, I found his house full of slaves and Soudan goods, and he himself very busy in the midst of them. He received me very friendly, and, after a little, said, "It would be better for you if you turned Mussulman. Do you not wish to go to Paradise? A slave of ours is better than you, and your estate." To turn the conversation, I observed (which I knew would excite his mercantile lust, despite his orthodox zeal), "I hear you are vastly rich, the richest merchant in Ghat." "Ah!" he replied, distending into consequence, "but the Christians have all the money." I rejoined, "If there were a better Government in Tripoli, the Mussulmans would have more money." Asking about the arrival of Shafou, he observed, "Haj Ahmed is our Sultan. I'm not a Touarick. God help if I were a Touarick." He then took me by the hands, and led me to the women's apartments to show me to his wife and daughters. The good wife, after handling my hands, which were a little whiter and cleaner than what are generally seen in The Desert, for to have hands with a layer of dirt upon them of several months' collecting, is an ordinary circumstance,—exclaimed, "Dear-a-me, dear-a-me, how wonderful, and this Christian doesn't know God!" Her husband shook his head negatively. The court-yard of his house was soon filled and crammed with people, who rushed in from the streets, and the friendly Ghatee was obliged to send me home quick, lest I should be smothered by a mob of people. The affair of Silva and Levi had reached him, and the report will soon get to Soudan and Timbuctoo, for the merchants carry everything with them which interests their commerce, making additions as they go along. Here, as at Mogador, it was reported that I was commissioned by the Sultan of England to buy up and liberate all the slaves. On returning home, I had another posse of visitors, and some of Haj Ahmed's sons, who came with the fixed determination to convert me. One said, on my admiring his Soudan coloured frock, "If you will become a Mussulman, I will give you one." I now felt myself obliged to rebut some of this impertinence, and answered, "If you would give me all the frocks of Soudan I would not change my religion." I then addressed them sharply against wishing to alter the decrees of God, turning the dogmas of their religion upon themselves, and quoted the Koran,—
"Thou wilt not find out any means of enlightening him whom God delivers over to error."
Immediately, this unexpected style of argument struck them dumb. After recovering their senses they became restless to leave me, and began to beg a few things. I gave them some sugar and cake, and we parted apparent friends. On going out, they could not forbear asking Said if he was a Mussulman. Like many other Moslemites of Sahara, they said, "The Turks are not good Mussulmans." I replied, "Mustapha, the Bey of Ghadames, is a better Mussulman than any of the Ghadamsee people."
The reader may disapprove of my conduct in these my frequent evasions of the question of religion; but when they reflect that it required, during my residence in Ghat and other parts of Sahara, the whole strength of my mind, and the utmost tact, to maintain a simple and consistent confession of myself as a Christian, and that to have said a word, or even to have breathed a syllable of disrespect for Mahomet and his religion, would have exposed me to be torn to pieces by the rabble, and perhaps murdered in my bed, they will probably feel less disposed to censure my conduct. If there be any doubt of this critical situation of an European who travels openly and avows himself a Christian in The Sahara, all I can do is to beg of the doubter to make the experiment himself. The reader will also be pleased to recollect, that the Denham and Clapperton party, though they travelled the safest routes of Sahara, were protected by the Bashaw of Tripoli, and their safety was guaranteed solemnly to our Government, as being the immediate agents and representatives of the British nation; and, finally, they had a large escort of Arab cavalry from Fezzan to Bornou. Yet these tourists, surrounded with such protection, were actually circumcised at Tripoli by Dr. Dickson[3], and were accustomed to attend the mosques and perform prayer as Mussulmans. Colonel Warrington certainly told me the people saw through all the mummery, and laughed, or were angry. As to the Frenchman, Caillié, his eternal tale of fabrication, repeated every day, and every hour of the day, to every Sheikh, and every merchant, camel-driver, and slave of The Desert, produces a very painful impression on the mind of the reader. Caillié's falsehood, as lie begets lie, begat many others. He was obliged to tell the people, that Mahometans were not tolerated in Christian countries. He told the Africans, also, that slavery was abolished in Europe, at the time even when England had her thousands of West Indian slaves. In this way, whatever service Caillié has rendered to geography, he has damaged the moral interests of the world. The African Mussulmans might say to future tourists, "If Christians tolerate not us, why should we Mussulmans tolerate you," and assassinate the luckless European tourist. Whatever, then, were my evasions on the question of religion (and I sincerely confess I do not approve of them), I never stooped to such folly, and so far disgraced my character as an Englishman and a Christian, as to adopt the creed and character of a Mahometan. I moreover, on reflecting upon the tremendous question, which I often revolved in my painful journeying over The Desert—determined at all events, at all costs, come what might, I would never profess myself a Mussulman, if it were even to save my head. I thought the least I could do was to imitate the noble example, which The Desert reports of Major Laing—Sooner than forswear my religion, be it good or bad, it was better to die! "Mental reservation" may be good for the Jesuits and papists[4], who misquote the conduct of Jacob to Esau, but it is neither fit for a Christian, or a patriot, or, at any rate, for an honest man, who was, is, and ever will be,
