This morning took coffee with the Rais; as no one was present, he began talking politics. "By a little and a little," he said, "we shall take possession of Ghat. We can't do it by force, it would require some thousand men to take it by arms. The Touaricks are all robbers and devils." I asked him if he would not like to occupy Touat. He replied, "No, there's another Sultan there, and another people. There are two Sultans in the world, one in the East and one in the West (Muley-Abd-Errahman). Ghat we might take. At Touat we are too near the French, and might quarrel with them. All the freebooters come from Tunis. The Bey has no power or authority over the Arabs there. His government is bad; he's a madman. Our Pasha has often written to him about these freebooters, but it's no use. The English and the Sultan are one, and always friends, whatever may be the condition of the rest of the world." Speaking of me:—"You are mad to think of going to Timbuctoo; you are sure to have your throat cut."
I allow all persons, rich and poor, young and old, men and women, to come and see me. At the same time I make a distinction between those who are likely to be useful to me and mere idle intruders. All the Arab soldiers come, and, in general, though poor and thievish, they have less of prejudices, and like the English better than the Ghadamsee people. This city has not yet felt the benefit of English influence, and interference in Tripoli, and therefore the merchants have not the same reasons for being friendly to the English as the Arabs of The Mountains and the townspeople of Tripoli. All the Ghadamseeah agree with me, that the camel-playing of the Touaricks was a failure. Five slaves are leaving for Tripoli. The poor things complained of having nothing to eat; I sent Said with some victuals for them. The people continue to be friendly, and the merchants, whose acquaintance I made in Tripoli, very much so. The steward of the Rais has arrived from Tripoli in fourteen days. His whole party consisted of six camels and five persons. So much for the pretended insecurity of the route! He is dressed in the Turco-European costume, like indeed the Rais himself. To-day the mother of Essnousee, my friend, was bitten by a scorpion. I administered Goulard solution to the part, and gave her fever-powder, as she was very hot and her belly swollen. She died the next day.
Dined again with the Rais. He says, scorpions are in great numbers in this city, because it is ancient, and particularly they abound in the old mosques where the people do not live or perform domestic matters. "No person," he added, "is secure from them, and it is all destined whether we are bitten, and die or not." The Touarick again assured me that he spoke the truth, he did not flatter me, by telling me he could take me to Timbuctoo, when he could not; but yet, if I could make friends with some respectable merchant of Touat, they might succeed. A son of the Sheikh Makouran is now in Timbuctoo. The Sheikh himself gave me a detailed account of the city; he has been there twice. The old gentleman, when he had finished his narrative, thought the time was come for me to assist him. He begged me to intercede with the British Consul at Tripoli for him, that he might not be taxed by the Bashaw so much. He now pays two hundred dollars per annum, assessed taxes. He assured me that all the money is leaving the country, and Ghadames will soon be without a para, like the rest of Tripoli. He told me frankly that he had the idea of making me a partner in his firm, to get my protection, but on hearing I was opposed to slave-dealing, it could not be done, as he and all the merchants were obliged to deal in slaves. Indeed, the obstacle of English merchants joining the Tripoline is at present insuperable, on account of the slave traffic; if they could unite in one firm, it would be equally advantageous for both parties.
2nd.—Not so many patients this morning. A respectable Ghadamsee came to me to beg medicine to assist in conjugal pleasures. I told him to eat, drink, and take a journey from home for two months.
Although, according to the Italian almanack, the new moon is on the 1st, yet as the people have not seen it, there is no Ramadan, (properly Ramtham.) The Rais says, after the first ten days' keeping the fast it is not difficult, but, during this period, the adult Mussulmans suffer exceedingly. Afraid I shall find them all ill-natured during the fast. Besides, they can't stomach seeing Infidels eat, whilst they the Faithful fast.
Supped with the Rais. His fowl flew away, and left him without meat for supper. "Maktoub," he said, laughing. The Mussulmans are extravagantly fond of rice, but they never prepare it in that nice delicious way in which we do, with milk, or in rice pudding. It is always covered with fat, and soon surfeits one. His Excellency and his servants played practical jokes on the black dervish. First, they bastinadoed the dervish, and then he bastinadoed the Rais's servants. But the dervish did it in reality, and so effectually, that after two or three strokes, they jumped up, for he laid it on under all the force of his witless revenge. When in a passion, or excited, he speaks his native lingo of Soudan, but when cool he speaks Arabic and Ghadamsee. He became mad, en route, by grief in being ravished from his country. These practical jokes were played off under the sanction of his Excellency, before all the people in the streets.
The prevalent diseases at this season, are diarrhœa and ophthalmia, with occasional cases of fever. The diarrhœa arises from the people's eating unripe or bad fruit, particularly melons, the ophthalmia from frequent exposure to the sun during the past hot months. The camel-drivers also bring it into the city, and it is so propagated by infection. One of my patients is dead, a little boy, afflicted with diarrhœa for three months. His father, in relating his death to me, spoke with a resignation which might be imitated, but could not be surpassed by a Christian. It is amazing how the thought of all-powerful and resistless destiny calms the mind, and tones it down to a speechless patience! My stock of drugs is fast going. It consisted originally of worm-powders, emetics (of which the Arabs and Moors are very fond), fever powders, purgative pills, Epsom salts, compound opium pills, Goulard powders, eye powders, sulphate of quinine pills, and solution of nitrate of silver. They were made up by Dr. Dickson, of Tripoli. I was surprised to find nothing for pectoral complaints. Many persons here are troubled with chronic diseases of this sort. Although administering medicines these eight days to some fifty persons or more, not one of them has offered me anything in turn. There are no guinea or five-guinea fees here. On the contrary, some have asked me for sugar and money before they could be persuaded to take the medicine. Such is the consolation of doing good. Verily the philosopher had it when he said, "Virtue must be loved for its own sake." Here I may mention that the Commandant Omer of our caravan got into a great passion because I would not buy him a pair of shoes, and left for The Mountains, without coming to bid me good bye. He had had coffee and tea, and provisions always with me, en route, and I thought this enough. Unless the last favour or request is granted, all former favours are counted nothing.
3rd.—The morning opens cool and pleasant, and the heat begins gradually to leave us. People expect rain in ten days.
Another Touarick has come forward to offer to conduct me to Timbuctoo. He says now is the time to go, when it is hot the banditti do not infest the routes, for they find no water to drink. He offers to take me for five hundred dollars, which is to be deposited in the hands of the Sheikh Makouran, and is not to be paid until our safe return. He will allow me to stop a month or six weeks in the city of Timbuctoo. The distances of routes which he gives me, are the same as those on M. Carette's map, attached to his brochure on the commerce of The Desert. Of all the French writers who have recently written on Africa, M. Carette is most correct. Wrote down a vocabulary of Ghadamsee words from my turjeman's dictation. Whilst I was lamenting the little gratitude, or rather none, which the people showed for my medicines, an old man, to whose mother-in-law (he having married a woman forty years younger than himself, frequently the case here,) I gave some pills, brought me a melon, and said he should bring also some dates. I was conversing with a group at the time, and I took the opportunity of observing that doctors were paid amongst us. An upstart man angrily replied:—"Yes, but we are the chosen people of God! you Infidels are bound to serve us in every way, and ought to be thankful that you are so honoured as to be the servants and slaves of The Moumeneen. You think you are clever, but your talents are not your own; your knowledge comes from God." These affronting words contain a common fanatic sentiment of Barbary. I made no reply.
Went at noon to visit the Arab suburb, and was a great curiosity amongst the women and children. Some of the little girls were frightened out of their wits, but the boys took up stones to pelt me. The suburb contains about five hundred souls; the houses are all miserable, and the people poor. A genuine Ghadamsee would not live here without being degraded: it is the St. Giles of the city. Went into a house, the walls of which were completely concealed beneath the covers for dishes and meats, bowls and calabashes, the greater part brought from Soudan. The people were dealers in them. Talking with the Rais about Soudan, he displayed the usual ignorance of Mussulmans, even in The Desert, of this country. It would take a person five years to travel through that vast country, many parts of which were populated by cannibals. We read of the Lemlems, Lamlams, and the Yemyems, as cannibals, somewhere in the neighbourhood of Zegzeg and Yakobah; but after conversing with several of the merchants who have scoured Soudan and Bornou, I have not found one who has seen these terrible cannibals. They have all heard of them. It appears to me to be an ancient tale of wonder to adorn the narratives of travellers.