Passed a well this morning, on our left, called Beer Tagheetah. There is water in many places where no attempt is made to cultivate the cultivable soil. I asked an Arab of Timhanah why more land was not cultivated? "We have no bullocks, no asses; we cannot draw up the water—we want money," was the reply. This sort of answer is applicable to almost every country in Europe. Our encampment is at the place called Ghurmeedah. Here are only two or three untenanted huts, where the date-watchers sleep or repose during the season. This small forest of palms belongs to Zeghen. Took a little cuscasou with some Arabs who have joined us, being hired by Essnousee to carry dates for the slaves. Giving an account of their country, they say, "Fezzan is a country of poor people; it always was so: we have only the date-palm. This is our riches. If the sea came up to Fezzan, then we would ship dates for Tripoli; but as it is, they are too heavy—they don't pay the expense of carrying to Tripoli. We have besides, a little corn, but not cattle enough to draw water to increase this cultivation. Many of the people live only on dates and hasheesh (herbs). We eat the ghoteb." In the abandoned huts I found three or four women just come from Zeghen. They were collecting and boiling the ghoteb, which they sell in their town; it eats very cooling and pleasant with dates. If I recollect, it is something like the barilla-plant. I tasted the herb, but could make nothing of it. Nevertheless, the inhabitants of Fezzan are apparently healthy and happy. Providence blesses this poor dish of herbs, and makes it palatable and nourishing.
14th.—Rose with the sun's rising, and started with the first scattering of the bright orient beams. Course over an undulating surface of mostly sandy soil, but firm to the camel's foot. In various places is scattered a great quantity of the common black volcanic shingle, and which, indeed, covers a fifth of The Sahara I have traversed. Essnousee tells me this stone contains iron, for so, reported our countrymen of the two former expeditions in Fezzan. The Turks of Mourzuk assert the same thing, though not very great authorities in geology. This shingle has certainly a most ferruginous appearance. About three hours after leaving our encampment we passed the town of Semnou on our right. Our people read on the camel's back. Essnousee pretends to devotional reading. I never attempted reading on the camel, in order to preserve my eyes, though by no means difficult. An European who has to traverse these Saharan solitudes might supply himself with a few entertaining books, in large type, and while away many lonely and tedious hours, when riding on the camel's back. Only one of the slaves is sick, to whom I give a ride every morning. The rest go pretty well—in fact, our short days' journeys, during these last several days, are a trifle to us all.
Arrived at Zeghen at 2 p.m. Don't feel very strong. Ought to eat more, but can't get meat. Had a good drink of camel's milk this morning. Tired of cuscasou, and now like bazeen better. Several of the people come to see me, apparently more hospitable than those of Sebhah. They are all very poor, scarcely existing, ground down to the dust of The Desert. Went into the town. People got talking of religion. The presence of a person of another faith always suggests the subject to these unsophisticated people. I declared to them, that as the Great God was "The Most Merciful," every good man of every nation, be he Mahometan, Christian, or Jew, might expect the Divine favour. This doctrine was too liberal for some, others approved. Moors, in all these discussions, speak a good deal about hell-fire. They think, at least, this will shake a Christian's courage. They are very sensible to corporal torments themselves, like all barbarians or semi-civilized people. But, poor idiots, they don't know that we denounce them as the future inhabitants of the same place,—"Companions of The Fire." A Marabout came and listened, who evidently was one of the fools so kindly and humanely taken care of by Barbary people. The idiot had ostrich feathers round his breast, and a circlet of large beads in his hands, which he kept telling with a vacant stare. He begged of me, but I gave him nothing, having nothing to give. Population of Zeghen, about a third or fourth-rate town of these oases, is estimated at 200 men, 300 women, and 700 children and slaves. There are always a few more women than men in these Saharan towns. This surplus of women is kept up by importing female slaves from Central Africa. There the men perish in wars, or otherwise are enslaved for the Western Coast, and a surplus of women is left for the North.
This evening arrived the courier from Mourzuk, who took charge of a small packet of French patent soup, which I left behind. Mr. Gagliuffi had had this soup three years, and it was still very good. It is preserved in thin pieces like dried glue. It requires only boiling with a little salt, and then is pretty good. In long Desert journeying it would be easy to take a supply of this sort of preserved soup, as well as potted meat. On the address of the packet was, "Signore Richardson—Mr. Gagliuffi—God bless him."
15th.—This morning, at starting, I was very much amused at seeing two young camels loaded for the first time with a few trifling things, to break them in. They are only one year old. The little reprobates cried and groaned, and grumbled most piteously; one would have thought they were about to be killed, with the knife at their throats. The Arabs, to prevent their crying, throw some sand into their open mouths. By this little bit of barbarity, the poor young things were obliged to cease crying to chew the unwelcome bolus of sand. When laden, they started off as mad, trying to throw off their load. Do they know, by their powerful and foreseeing instinct, that this was the beginning of their painful labours and journeyings? and do they thus resist the imposition of burthens with all their youthful ardour and strength? A young camel remains with its mother and sucks a whole year. It is five years before the camel attains maturity of growth and strength.
Our route is north, over what the French call la terre accidentée. It was the bonâ fide Sahara, and wore its rugged face of desolation. But, after continuing five hours, we encamped at the Omm-El-Abeed, or "Mother" or "Country of Slaves," so called probably because the slave-caravans stop here to take in a good supply of water for four days on the highway of Tripoli. Whatever its name, this is a fair spot, abounding with excellent water near the surface. There are two wells, and both full to overflowing. The water is slightly impregnated with iron. Herbage around is abundant, and wild palms give it the appearance of an oasis. Essnousee, who is a sagacious fellow, justly remarked to me:—"If this country were in the hands of Christians, they would make it a fruitful garden, palms would be planted, corn sown, and houses built." The Moorish merchants can appreciate the superior industry and intelligence of Europeans. Undoubtedly, the presence of abundant good water, and a soil composed of a mixture of sand and earth, (the essential ingredients for a fruitful oasis,) would, in other hands, soon render this spot a paradise in Desert. It rejoices my heart to contemplate the future—if perchance that future come—when this Saharan region shall fall into the hands of another Government, be invaded, circumscribed, and reduced on every side, and such a conquest over The Desert made by the hand of industry, as to render it a garden of the Hesperides, and to blossom as the rose. In another century, or a century after that, this may be the case. Even Moors, the worst people of the world in looking forward to improvements, have in many of these oases planted young palms, and already reaped the benefit in an increasing crop of dates, although, unfortunately, more from necessity than forethought have they been actuated. What may then be expected from men who adopt the principle of progress! Oftentimes I have connected, in imagination, the shores of the Mediterranean with the banks of the Niger, by a series of uninterrupted palmy oases, with jutting fountains, and silvery streams of living water, and cool shady resting-places for weary caravans. Hope is still my consolation in travelling through this thirsty dreary wilderness. Better to feed the mind with these expectations, even should they be illusory, than sighing and groaning over the desolations of Africa.
This evening took a little cuscasou with Essnousee. After supper the eternal subject of religion was brought forward by this slave-driver. He cannot comprehend my travelling, and thinks I must have some secret mission. He was more surprised when I told him I should visit the New World after exploring Africa, for this shifted his suspicions from Mahometan countries. Essnousee, like others of his countrymen, cannot comprehend notions of enterprise and discovery in travel. How should he? What country has a Moor? What purposes of renown and glory can fill him with a patriotic ambition? Nevertheless, a Moor has three passions, those of gain—sensuality—and religion, which latter sentiment often at, or even before, the close of life, absorbs the other two, yet itself degenerating into superstition and fanaticism. These passions make up the end and compass of the being of a Moor, the objects of all his pursuits through life. On the latter of these sentiments or passions, Haj Essnousee, a thoroughly bad man himself, took the liberty of addressing me these words, in reply to my demand of "What is good in this world?" "If you wish to do a good thing," said the slave-driver, "do this, abandon your country and your friends. Forget you were born a Christian. Go to Egypt—there turn Mussulman. Then go to Mecca. There read and study all the day, and all the days of your life. See and hear the time of prayers announced from El-Kaaba[50]. Pray at Fidger, Subah and Aser, Mugreb and Lailah[51]. Observe well the burying-place where the body of the Prophet is laid, and be assured that if you are buried there, you will rise up at the Resurrection to Paradise. This is the good work I counsel you to do, but you won't do it." I smiled at this fine speech, and asked the slave-merchant to give up his trade, go to Mecca, and carry out that which he so eloquently recommended me to do. This turning the thing on himself displeased him, and the zealous preacher dropped his sermon in a moment.
Fezzan, with its numerous and large oases, offers for investigation to the physiologist, the three distinct species or varieties of the human race which overspread all Central Africa, viz., The Arabs and Moors, the Touaricks, and the Negroes,—and these all mixed and blended together, of all shades of colour, stature, and configuration. The Arabs and Moors abound this side Mourzuk. Sebhah and Zeghen are all Arabs and Moors. The Touaricks are found in the Wady Ghurbee, and are occupied chiefly in a pastoral life, leading their flocks through open Desert. Some live in the villages of The Wady. But these Touaricks are not subjects of the chieftains of Ghat. The Negroes begin at Mourzuk, and extend south in all the districts of Fezzan, as far as the Tibboos. Ghatroun, I am informed, has an entire population of coloured people, under the protection of a Marabout.
16th.—Another day lost. We stop here to-day to take in water, (as if we did not arrive soon enough yesterday to take in water for a hundred times our number,) and to let the camels feed. Felt, however, excessively weak, and very nervous to-day. At one moment, I seemed as if I were placed in an exhausting-receiver, and was about to give up the ghost. It's perhaps as well for my health, we don't go on quicker. According to the report of the Fezzaneers, there is fever in every oasis during the summer, and considerable mortality. Eating dates continually in the summer must create a great deal of heat in the system, and thus it is not surprising that fever prevails.