Travels
OF
AN ARAB MERCHANT
IN SOUDAN
(THE BLACK KINGDOMS OF CENTRAL AFRICA).

I.—DARFUR.
II.—WADAÏ.

ABRIDGED FROM THE FRENCH.

BY
BAYLE ST. JOHN,
AUTHOR OF “VILLAGE LIFE IN EGYPT,” “PURPLE TINTS OF PARIS,”
ETC. ETC.

LONDON:
CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193 PICCADILLY.
1854.

LONDON:
Printed by G. Barclay, Castle St. Leicester Sq.

PREFACE.

The following work is an abridgment of Dr. Perron’s French version of the narrative, written in Arabic, by Sheikh Mohammed of Tunis, of his journey to two of the most remarkable Black Kingdoms of Central Africa. Dr. Perron’s work, ably edited by M. Jomard of the Institute, is too voluminous to have obtained many readers in this country; but it contains so much that is interesting, so fresh and peculiar a view of manners, so many good stories and characteristic anecdotes, that I have thought it worth while to reduce it to a more popular form. The narrative bears witness itself to its own authenticity; but it is further recommended to belief by the well-known and respectable character of the writer, who is now reposing from his many fatigues in a lucrative position, adapted to a learned man, in Cairo.[1]

As the narrative forms a complete autobiography, it is not necessary to say more of the author, save that he was born in 1789, and commenced his travels when a mere boy, inheriting, and always preserving, the character of a trader. All his allusions to well-known public characters and events have been examined, and found to be correct; so that it is fair to accept his testimony on other points. He travelled with peculiar advantages in countries, one of which, Darfur, has been only once visited by a European, namely, Brown, in 1793; whilst the other has never been described, except in this instance, by an eyewitness. Accurate geographical details are, of course, not to be expected from the Sheikh. He writes from memory, and from an Oriental point of view. But his descriptions of manners and the general characteristics of tribes and regions are, to all appearance, accurate. They are certainly interesting. The reader is introduced at the very first page within the circle of Eastern life, and learns by degrees to view facts, if not with Eastern eyes, at least without the prejudices of an outside observer.

The countries described, though isolated both by position and policy, are sufficiently remarkable not to deserve utter neglect. They form part of the great system of states—black in population, but Mohammedan in religion—which stretches like a belt across Central Africa, with unexplored expanses of Paganism to the south, and to the north a desert, dotted with oases, and marked with caravan tracks leading to the Mediterranean. The valley of the Nile, which seems destined by Nature to be the highroad to this region, is rendered comparatively useless for that purpose by the restrictive regulations of Darfur. That cautious little kingdom stops the way. It is so fearful of aggression from Egypt—not entirely without cause—that it will not allow the easiest routes to be used, and compels all caravans to reach its frontiers exhausted by a two months’ march across the desert from Siout.

The expedition sent by her Majesty’s government, under the late Mr. Richardson—which already counts two martyrs—will have vastly enlarged our knowledge of the largest, most populous, and most important Central African kingdoms. Drs. Barth and Vogel are still making gallant geographical forays towards the south—creating, as it were, ground under their feet—for unexplored countries must be considered as scientifically non-existing; whilst Mr. Petermann records their triumphs; as they are won, with a pride which must soften opposition and disarm criticism. His Atlas, however it may be modified by subsequent exploration, is so far the best and completest portraiture of Central Africa that we possess.

It is not probable, however, that the German travellers will be able or willing to penetrate eastward across the kingdoms described in this Volume, although Mr. Richardson had contemplated such a journey, and had communicated, through government, with the English Consul-General in Egypt, that the way might, to a certain extent, be prepared. I believe it is still the practice, if not the rule, in Darfur, to prevent all strangers who penetrate into the interior of the kingdom from going away again. However, strong representations from Egypt might have obviated this difficulty. At present we cannot expect the experiment to be tried, as Dr. Barth seems to be directing his attention to a still more difficult expedition; and it is extremely probable that for many years to come the information contained in the present Volume will not be superseded.

The Sheikh, in the course of his narrative, affords us a good deal of information, which applies equally well to the present day, on the state of slavery in the parts of Africa he visited. According to his unconscious representation, the Mohammedan states which have formed on the northern limits of Negroland have used the superior power they have acquired from semi-civilisation as a means of preying on their savage brethren. In England, forests have been said to be excrescences of the earth given by God to men to pay their debts withal. In Africa, the princes and great people regard their fellow-creatures in the same light. This is, perhaps, the chief reason why those countries, in spite of their natural advantages, remain in their present backward state. There seems to be only one way to induce them to abandon their man-hunting propensities,—namely, the development of regular commerce; and there is ground for hoping that the progress of discovery may lead to occasions of intercourse, and to the signing of treaties which may cease some day to be mere inoperative documents. When we can safely get at Central Africa, and discover some means of obtaining its productions to meet a regular demand, it will be easy to divert its population from what will then be the unprofitable employment of stealing one another. It is on this ground that the exploration of its water-outlets towards the Atlantic is so important.

Darfur and Wadaï, however, belong to Eastern Africa, the proper approach to which is the Nile. If a regular government were established in Egypt, exercising its authority firmly over the southern provinces that now, for all practical purposes, are but nominally subject, commerce would soon begin to flow in its natural channel, and merchandise, which is now principally brought across the desert, would be directed to the nearest point upon the Nile, which would be soon laden with fleets of boats dropping down with the current. There are the elements of an empire more important than Hindustan, between Alexandria and the fourth parallel of North Latitude.

BAYLE ST. JOHN.

CONTENTS.

Part I.—DARFUR.

Part II.—WADAÏ.

TRAVELS OF AN ARAB MERCHANT,
&c.

Part I.—DARFUR.

CHAPTER I.

Parentage of the Sheikh — His Grandfather starts on a Pilgrimage — Adventures — Mekka — Jeddah — A Man from Sennaar — Departure for that Country — Reception — Fate of his Family — Omar — His Pilgrimage — A Meeting in the Desert — A Rendezvous — Omar is deceived by his Father — Journeys to Sennaar — A Quarrel — He returns towards Egypt — The Desert — Return to Tunis — Birth of the Sheikh — His Father settles in Egypt — Goes again to Sennaar — The Sheikh at Cairo — Ahmed-el-Bedawee — Preparations for Journey to Darfur — Departure.

My father, says the pious Sheikh Mohammed of Tunis, beginning his narrative—may God overshadow him with the clouds of his mercy and goodness!—has related to me that my great-grandfather was one of the most important personages of Tunis; that he was steward of the Sultan of Barbary, the perfect prince, the victorious king, the shereef Mohammed El-Hosny.[2] In the exercise of his functions he became wealthy, and died, leaving three sons, who divided the heritage, and sold the house, which had been their first refuge, so that each remained alone with his wife and his children.

My grandfather was a man of letters, and wrote a beautiful hand. The books he copied sold for double the price of others. He had also learned the art of dyeing, and from the beginning was better off than his brothers, and better dressed than they. It happened one day that the desire came upon him to make a pilgrimage to the Sacred House, the Kaaba, and to visit the tomb of the Prophet. He sold a portion of his property, and prepared for his journey in the character of a trader, providing himself with good store of blankets and tarbooshes. Many persons also confided to him a certain quantity of merchandise, that he might trade to their advantage, for his good faith and probity were well known. He started in a vessel with a good cargo, his brothers accompanied him to the shore to bid him adieu, and a favourable wind at first accompanied him; but the weather suddenly changed, and he was driven in the direction of Rhodes, where a violent tempest overtook him. The vessel began to leak, the timbers to crack, the waves to leap over the bulwarks,—in short, they were wrecked upon the coast, and a few only escaped. Among these was my grandfather, who contrived to reach the city of Rhodes.

“Thy head,” says the poet, “being saved from destruction, wealth seems of no more value than the pairing of a nail.”

Luckily the traveller had round his waist a belt full of gold, which sufficed for his expenses. He bought a stock of provisions, and, re-embarking, set sail for Alexandria. It was the season of the departure of the pilgrims to join in the great ceremonies celebrated near Mount Arafat. He set out on his journey, and having safely arrived in the Sacred Countries, performed his pious duties with all the zeal and devotion of which he was capable. But when he had fully enjoyed the happiness of saluting the Prophet and his two companions, Abou-Bekr and Omar, who are buried near him, he recovered from his bewilderment, and began to reflect on the loss of his fortune and the uncertainty of the future. He was ashamed to return to Tunis in a state of misery and distress—he who had lived there in so much comfort. How would he be received by his countrymen? Upon this he began to repeat to himself these words:—

“I will travel in the countries of the East and of the setting sun. I will win wealth, or I will die far from my country. If my soul depart from me, God will call it to himself; but if I survive, it will be easy to revisit the place of my birth.”

He reflected, also, that even the Jew is honoured on account of his gold, and that the shereef is humiliated by poverty. The very dogs wag their tails at sight of a well-dressed man, but bark at those that are in rags. In consequence of these reflections, my grandfather left Mekka, and went to reside at Jeddah, where he gained his living by copying manuscripts. In the course of time he formed an acquaintance with some people from Sennaar, one of whom became his intimate friend. Now, this man said to him one day:—

“From what country art thou?”

He replied—“I am from Tunis.”

“And how does it happen that thou hast come to live at Jeddah?”

Then my grandfather related to him the history of his misfortunes.

“Why shouldst thou not make up thy mind,” said the man from Sennaar, “to come with us to our city? Thou wilt find there honour and well-being. Our mek (king) is a man with an open hand, caring neither for gold nor for silver, loving merit, and honouring shereefs. I answer for it, he will revive thy fortunes, and bestow upon thee riches, honours, slaves, and camels.”

So my grandfather allowed himself to be persuaded, and, setting out, arrived in safety at Sennaar, and was presented to the mek in these words:—

“This man is a learned man from a foreign country; his ship was destroyed upon the seas, and he has lost all he possessed.”

The mek received my grandfather with hospitality, saying, “Be welcome!”—and treated him with great deference, giving him a lodging and abundant presents.

Among these presents was a young girl of charming aspect, and of great price, named Halymah. Fascinated by her beauty, my father took her as his concubine, and had by her a son and a daughter, as beautiful as their mother. The king, moreover, assigned to him a fixed income; so that he utterly forgot his family, which had remained in Tunis, and the three young children he had left under the charge of their mother.

Now, of these children, my late uncle, named Mohammed, was about that time nine years old; the second—may God save his soul!—was called Omar, and was six years old—this was my father; the third, Mohammed Tahir, was three years old. They were all placed under the guardianship of their maternal uncle, Seyd Ahmed, son of the learned Sulieman-el-Azhary. This was a man of high character and immense learning, author of many esteemed books. On account of his great knowledge of theology, the functions of Kady of Tunis had been offered to him, but he had refused. He occupied himself in giving lessons, at first in a college, but afterwards—on account of ill-health—in his own house, where all the great people came to listen to his lectures.

My father remained with him until he came to man’s estate, and profited much by his instruction. But, then, the desire moved him to perform the pilgrimage, and he laid the subject before his uncle, who was at once stirred by the same laudable wish, and gave up his lectures and prepared for departure. They embarked and proceeded to Alexandria, and thence to Cairo; and afterwards started for Cosseir, some months before the season of the pilgrimage. As they were crossing the desert, they beheld approaching another caravan, composed of Magrebyns, coming from Sennaar. When they drew nigh they began to shout out questions one to the other; and those coming from Sennaar cried,—

“Ho! ho! is there any one amongst you from Tunis?”

“Yes,” replied my father, “we are from Tunis.”

“Do you know one Ahmed, son of Suleiman?”

“Yes,” said my father; “and who art thou?”

“I am his brother-in-law. I left Tunis a long time ago—my children and all my family—and I know not whether they are dead or alive.”

Now the uncle of my father was under a kind of palanquin, covered with cloth; but had overheard this conversation.

“Omar,” said he, “go and salute thy father. It is he; and tell him I am here.”

So Omar jumped off his camel, and, running to his father, kissed his hand, and told him that the brother of his wife was under the palanquin.

My grandfather hastened and saluted the son of Suleiman, and when they were somewhat tranquillised, Omar said to his father,—

“How comes it that thou hast left us so long, without any resource, young as we are? If God had not awakened the bounty of my uncle, we should have been lost.”

My grandfather explained that he had been the victim of destiny, and quoted the words of a poet in support of his statement.

“But,” said my father, “art thou now thinking of returning to our country, and of refreshing the eyes of thy family?”

“I will return, if it please God.”

“And when?”

“I am now going to Cairo to sell my female slaves. Then I shall return to Sennaar, to take my children and whatever I possess; and afterwards I shall set out for Egypt. Go thou upon the pilgrimage, and we shall meet again at Cairo. Whoever arrives first shall wait for the other.”

So they said, “Adieu!” and the two caravans separated in the desert. My father and his uncle went upon their pilgrimage, and my grandfather continued his journey to Cairo, where he sold his slaves, and, having made his purchases, returned to his adopted country. Meanwhile the pilgrims arrived at the holy city, and performed their pious duties; but the elder of them died, and was buried near the gate of Mala. So Omar returned alone to Cairo, and, whilst waiting for his father, attended on the scientific lectures in the mosque of El-Azhar. But he waited in vain; his father came not; and, in his impatience, he started with a caravan which was returning direct to Sennaar.

Having arrived in that country, he found his father comfortably settled, surrounded by his wives and children, and having no thoughts of departure. He asked him why he had broken his promise, and had laughed at him. My grandfather gave an evasive answer, to the effect that his debtors would not pay him, and persuaded Omar to wait six months longer. A caravan then preparing to depart for Egypt, Omar said,—

“My father! wilt thou come along with us, or shall I go away alone?”

“Neither the one nor the other. It is not convenient for me to go to Tunis, where I owe money. Besides, I have learned that thy mother has married again. As for thy departure, put it off; thou must be provided for that purpose with slaves, camels, gold, and merchandise.”

My father refused to remain any longer, saying: “I wish to become learned, and all the time I spend here is pure loss.”

Upon this they quarrelled, and my father went away in anger with the caravan, not possessing a single para. But three days afterwards, my grandfather came riding after him, and gave him three camels, four young slave-girls, two black slaves, provisions and water-skins, and a camel-load of gum. My father received the whole, and continued his journey with the caravan; but some time afterwards they strayed from the track and lost their way. Thirst made itself felt, the passage of the desert was prolonged, and the slave-girls and the camels which had been given to my father died, so that he became as poor as before. Well has a poet said, that when Fortune is willing to follow you can lead her with a hair, but when she wishes to turn away, she can break chains of iron.

Heaven, however, had not determined that my father should remain in an extremity of distress. The chief of the caravan became ill, and nobody knew a means of cure. His disease was a brain fever; but my father wrote a passage from the Koran on a piece of paper, and gave it to the sick man, who, with profound faith, placed it upon his head and was instantly cured. In gratitude, the chief of the caravan gave my father a camel to ride on, and placed his bales of gum upon another, so that he arrived in safety at Cairo, and sold his merchandise with a good profit. This done, he again entered the mosque of El-Azhar, and shortly afterwards married my mother. After two years of marriage, he had a son whom he called Ahmed, but who died when he was fifteen months old. He consoled himself by repeating the verses of the poet: “Dear child, star of the heaven, how short was thy time! thou wert like the stars of the last hour of the night!”

Soon afterwards my father started for Tunis, taking with him his wife and mother-in-law, and was received by his brother, Mohammed, who had become a tarboosh-manufacturer. Five months afterwards I was born. It was on a Friday, three hours after the setting of the sun, in the middle of the month of Zou-l-Kadeh, in the year 1204 (1789). Three years afterwards my father, having quarrelled with his brothers, returned to Egypt, and became a humble functionary in the mosque of El-Azhar. Four years afterwards he received a letter from his half-brother, in Sennaar, to this effect: “Our father has gone to the dwelling of pardon of the very high God. He left behind him a great number of books, which have been stolen from us by a certain Ahmed, of Benzareh in the States of Tunis, whom we had received into our house. We are in a condition that rejoices our enemies and afflicts our friends. On the receipt of this letter depart, we pray thee, immediately for this place, and take us with thee. We live as you live. Salutation.”

On reading this letter my father wept, and pitied the misery of his brother and his sister. He determined at once to go and fetch them. I was then seven years old. I had already read the whole of the Koran once, and was reading it a second time, having come to the end of the chapter on the family of Aaron. I had a brother four years old. My father left us sufficient to live on for six months; but we remained a whole year alone. My mother was obliged to sell a great portion of our copper utensils and of her ornaments. Then my uncle Tahir arrived at Cairo and took us under his protection. He came with the combined object of pilgrimage and trade. He had a boy as beautiful as the morning sun in a sky without clouds, named Mohammed. This boy studied with me for some time; but the plague came and he died; and was carried away to the tomb and to the delights of the Houris. My uncle, who had intended to remain some time in Cairo, was so saddened by the loss of his son, that he started immediately for the holy city, leaving me money sufficient for my expenses during four months.[3] But this time passed away, and I was left sometimes not knowing what to eat, and nearly naked. Meanwhile, however, I studied assiduously at the mosque of El-Azhar. One day I learned that a caravan was arriving from Soudan. It came from Darfur. I had learned a short time previously that my father had departed from Sennaar for that country with his brother. When, therefore, the caravan had entered the wakalah of the slave-merchants, I went about amongst them inquiring if any one knew whether my father was alive. After some time I chanced to fall in with one of the traders, who was a grave, respectable man, named Ahmed Bedawee. I kissed his hand and stood up before him.

“What dost thou desire, my friend?” said he to me, in a voice full of gentleness.

“I come to ask for news of some one whom you may happen to know.”

“Who is he, and what is his name?”

“Omar of Tunis, a learned man.”

“Thou hast addressed thyself to the right person. I am his friend; and thou, from thy face, should be his son.”

“Yes, I am he;” and I related my misfortunes.

He then told me that my father was among the personages placed near the Sultan, one of the most honoured members of the divan, and offered to advance me sufficient money to enable me to set out and join him. I accepted his offer, saying that I would follow him like a shadow; so I went to visit him every day until Ahmed said to me: “We shall start to-morrow, come and pass the night with us.” I did so, and next morning at early dawn we rose and pronounced the prayer of the Sabh, and prepared the baggage and placed it on the camels. The horns of the gazelle could not have been perceived in the desert at the time when our camels went away from the wakalah, swinging their burdens to and fro. We arrived at Fostat, and our beasts knelt on the banks of the Nile. We transferred our baggage to a large boat, and, having waited for the mid-day prayer—it being Friday—we started.[4]

CHAPTER II.

Fostat — The Nile — Reflections — Minieh — The Mamlooks — Siout — Departure of the Caravan — The Oases — Kharjeh — Abyrys — Boulac — Maks — Arid Desert — Wells and Rivers — Musical Stones — Selineh — A Courier — Death of the King of Darfur — Natron Lakes of Zaghawy — Halt — The last Stage over the Desert — Kind Treatment of the Sheikh — Confines of Darfur — Separation of the Caravan — Congratulations of the People — Visitors — Arrival of Strangers — Zarrouk, the Sheikh’s Uncle — Obligations of Ahmed-el-Bedawee to Omar of Tunis — Departure for Aboul-Joudoul — Kelkabieh — The Marrah Mountains — Meeting of Father and Son — Feast — The Sultan and his Vizier — Visit to Tendelty — Interview with Kourra.

When our boat had pushed off from the shores of Old Cairo, whilst the men were getting out the great sail, I began sadly to reflect on the dangers of the voyage I was undertaking: a warning voice seemed to speak from the depths of my heart. I trembled—disquietude overshadowed me—I was amidst the sons of a race foreign to my own; amidst men whose language I scarcely knew, whose countenances were not white, and whose miens not promising. I whispered to myself, whilst tears stood in my eyes:—“Body, garments, visage, all in them seem black to thee—black skins in black clothing.” I repented me that I had been won over by the sons of Ham. Their hatred for the sons of Shem came to my thoughts. I felt within myself an indescribable emotion, and was on the point of begging permission to return to Cairo; but the grace of God descended upon me, and I remembered all that had been said by men of learning and of science, and by the prophet, in favour of travels. If the pearl did not quit its shell, it would never be placed in a diadem; and if the moon moved not, it would ever be a crescent. So I determined to persevere. A favourable wind impelled us during the day, our kanjia moved swiftly up the stream, and at night-time we reached Minieh.[5]

Near this town there was a troop of those Ghouz, or Mamlouks, from whom God had just removed the cloak of power.[6] They seized our bark by violence. They were encamped in tents near the town, along the banks of the Nile, and were on the look-out for travellers, that they might rob them: they spoiled our chief of all his money. When we escaped from their hands we proceeded in three days to Manfaloot, and thence to Beni-Ady, where we remained until the Darfur caravan was ready to start—until it had mended its water-skins, and got together its provisions.[7]

When the camels were at length laden we struck into the desert, and on the evening of the fifth day reached Kharjeh, the Theban oasis. This place is planted with date-trees, that surround it as the anklets surround the ankles, or as the two arms of a lover surround the neck of his mistress, on whom he sheds a kiss. These date-trees were laden with splendid dates, the aspect of which charmed our eyes, and which were exceedingly cheap. We remained there five days; but on the morning of the sixth proceeded, and, after hard travelling, on the third day reached Abyrys. This country has been ruined by the exactions of its governors; all its population, formerly so happy, is now dispersed; the date-trees are destroyed, and all the brilliance of the scenery has been tarnished.

After two days of rest we pushed on two other days to Boulac, a country also desolated, and nearly without inhabitants. Most of its houses are ruined. What surprised me was the extreme smallness of the date-trees, under which we could lie and pick the fruit with our hands. The name of Boulac recalled to me the Boulac of Cairo, and some natural tears fell from my eyes as I thought of the place where I had been brought up.

But there is little time for regret in the desert. We pushed on hastily and arrived in the evening at Maks, to which this verse may be applied: “The country has no inhabitants, except the gazelles and the caravans that traverse it.” It is related that Maks had formerly a large population, which perished by the hand of Him who destroyed the last eagle of Lockman: all the inhabitants have disappeared—not a man is left. Scarcely at present remain there a few trees, some tamarisks, and thorny bushes. We tarried there two days, and having filled our water-skins, departed.

We now entered a desert completely arid. For five days we marched through silent solitudes, over grim plains, where here and there the wandering eye could scarcely discover some stunted plants of the same colour as the ground; there was not a tree to cast a hand’s-breadth of shadow. During this part of the journey we were compelled to cook our food with the dry dung of camels, which the servants collected.

On the evening of the fifth day we reached a place called Es-Shebb, situated in the midst of mountains that seemed like vast cones of sand. An unpleasant wind blew over them; but we remained there two days to rest, and then went on again for four more, until we reached the wells of Selineh, near which are the ruins of ancient buildings. It is situated at the foot of a mountain which bears the same name. We remained there two days to rest. This place is a delightful one for the traveller; but that which astonished me chiefly was that the young men of the caravan, having ascended the mountain, struck certain blocks of stone with switches, and caused them to yield a sound exactly resembling that of a tambourine. The cause of this curious circumstance is unknown. Are there hollows in these stones, or are they placed over caverns? Glory be to God, who knows the truth! At any rate the people of the caravan told me that, on a certain night, which they specified—the night of Friday, I believe—there is heard from the mountain the playing of a tambourine, as if a marriage festival were going on. The origin of these nocturnal musical entertainments is also unknown.

On the third day we filled our water-skins, and leaving Selineh entered upon the desert, and having travelled for five whole days, during which we met a caravan of Amaim Arabs coming from the natron lakes, reached Laguyeh, where we again rested two days and departed for Zaghawy. We now met a courier, mounted on a dromedary, coming from Darfur, and announcing the death of the just and glorious prince, Sultan Abd-er-Rahman-er-Rashid, sovereign of Darfur and its dependent provinces. The courier was going to Cairo to renew the state seal, no one in that country being capable of engraving it. The caravan testified its grief at this melancholy news; all feared that some disturbance might arise in the country, for the Sultan who had just died was an equitable and generous prince, loving science and those who possessed it, and the declared enemy of ignorance.

We continued our route for five days more, when at length our camels knelt at the natron lakes of Zaghawy. From thence to the frontiers of Darfur there are still ten days of travel, making forty days in all. We remained at this place eleven days, pasturing our beasts of burthen, in order to prepare them for the frightful desert before us. Some camels were slaughtered at this station, and their flesh was distributed to the caravan. There came to us some Bedawin Arabs of Darfur, who offered for sale camel-milk and butter. They had come to fetch salt and natron from that place.

We now sent forward a courier, mounted on a dromedary, with letters for the government, and others for the relations of the caravan folks, announcing our speedy arrival. I also wrote to my father, kissing his venerable hands, and relating how Ahmed Bedawee had cared for me. Indeed I had reason to be thankful; of all the journeys I had ever performed this was the pleasantest; for so soon as we quitted Beni-Ady my protector ordered his slaves to prepare for me a kind of tent on a quiet camel, and he himself assisted me to mount, and held the bridle until I was settled in my seat. He gave me, also, a great leathern bottle to hold water, and bade all his servitors to be at my beck and call. He had with him seven middle-aged slaves and one young one, eight hired domestics, and sixty-eight camels. With him were five concubines, and a sixth woman, who was his cousin, Sitti Jamal, of ravishing beauty. He had also a black Dongola horse, with a saddle of green velvet.

Ahmed treated me with all the kindness of a father. When the caravan halted I used to doze away, fatigued by the swinging of the camel and the heat of the sun: he would allow me to sleep until the hour of supper arrived, when he would wake me gently and bring me water, that I might wash. At meals he guided my hand to the dish, and sometimes put the morsels into my mouth.

When we left the wells of Zaghawy we marched for ten days hastily, starting before dawn and trenching on the night. On the eleventh morning we came to Mazroob, a well situated on the confines of Darfur, and in a few hours the Arabs came down to us, bringing large skins of water and little skins full of milk. We congratulated ourselves on the happy termination of our journey, and solaced ourselves at the well during the whole of that day; but next morning we advanced, in four hours, to Souwaineh, where we met the governor of the country, with a suite of five hundred horsemen, who wished us a good journey. This was the Melik Mohammed Sanjak. In Soudan every governor bears the title of Melik, or Mek—that is to say, king.

Having rested at this place two days, we again started; but here our caravan broke up, each taking the direction of his own district. The greatest number went to Kobeih, the capital; but Ahmed, my protector, was from Sarf-el-Dajaj, or the Rivulet of Fowls. I accompanied him, and we advanced slowly for three days, and on the fourth came under the shade of a great mountain, where was a well, on the brink of which we halted to pass the warm hours. A number of persons came here to congratulate us upon our arrival, and among others of my protector, with slaves and servants bearing provisions. We feasted and talked until the sun went down, and, then proceeding, arrived in an hour and a-half at Sarf-el-Dajaj.

The rest of the evening was spent in receiving a crowd of visitors; but Ahmed did not forget me, and ordered a hut to be prepared for my repose. I slept soundly, and next morning went to visit my protector, whom I found sitting gravely surrounded by his servants, his slave-women, and his children, happy, satisfied, and quiet, as if he had not just come off so long a journey. He introduced me to his relations and friends; and several days were spent by me in passing from one house to another, enjoying the festivals given to celebrate the return of the travellers.

I returned one day to my house, a little before twilight, and found there two men and two slaves. One of the two men was short, bronze-coloured, rather agreeable in aspect, and dressed with some elegance. The other was black and poorly accoutred. I sat down, suppressing my surprise at seeing a couple of strangers installed in my chamber. They made signs to one another, looking at me. Then one began to say,—

“Is this really he?”—“Certainly it is he!”

I did not know what they meant, but the bronze-coloured man said,—

“Art thou of this country?”

“No! I come from Cairo to meet my father.”

“Who is thy father?”

“Omar of Tunis.”

Then the black said sharply, “Salute, then, thy uncle, Ahmed Zarrouk!”

So I saluted the bronzed man, who handed to me a letter addressed to Ahmed Bedawee, in which my father paid numerous compliments to my protector, thanking him, and announcing that he had sent, as presents, two slaves of six spans in height, and a sorrel colt. When I had read this missive, the bronzed man told me to go and communicate it to Ahmed, and to take the presents with me. This I did, and my protector, having admired the slaves and the colt, said,—“Blessings! they are magnificent! I accept them, and I give them to my son—this one”—pointing to me.

Both I and my uncle pressed him to keep them, but he would not, saying,—“If I were to expend all my fortune for thy father, it would be little in comparison with the service he has rendered me.”

Upon this I took courage to ask, “What was this service he so often alluded to?”

“Know, my child,” said he, “that my enemies had spoken calumnies against me to his highness the Sultan. I was accused of selling free-women; and with so much cunning and appearance of truth, that the Sultan was convinced, and exclaimed in his rage, ‘A merchant of his rank, possessor of so much wealth, to behave thus! Better he were poor!’ Then he called me before him, and received me with flashing eyes and contemptuous words. I begged that the charges should be examined. They refused. My words were stifled. I was seized, an iron collar was put round my neck, and they were about to throw me into a dungeon. But, thanks to the benevolent providence of God, thy father was present at this scene. Nobody had dared to intercede for me, seeing the mighty anger of the Sultan. Thy father came forward, and having coughed like one about to make a speech, pronounced certain words of the Prophet on pardon, and on the necessity of verifying accusations. Then he implored the clemency of the Sultan for me. The Sultan was moved, and ordered me to be set at liberty. My innocence was afterwards made manifest; but if, at that time, God had not roused up thy father, my life and my property would have been sacrificed. What greater service can be rendered to a man than this? God will reward it. For my part, I had long waited an opportunity to be agreeable to thy father, and I have only been able to do for him this slight kindness. Perhaps it will be counted as part payment of my debt; but I do not think so.”

My uncle wished to depart on the morrow, but Ahmed would not consent, and we remained three days more. On the morning of the fourth day my protector gave me a great quantity of kharaz, or strings of beads used to ornament women’s dresses in Soudan: he also gave me some others, more valuable, used as necklaces. To these he added some beads of yellow amber, and a large agate of a light red colour. All this was worth three female slaves. He presented me likewise with a new turban of green muslin, with some sunbul, sandal-wood, and other perfumes used by the Soudan ladies. “Distribute this,” he said, “to thy father’s wives.” Afterwards he killed a sheep, and roasted it entire, as a parting meal, and having properly saluted us, allowed us to depart.

I mounted a horse, my uncle a dromedary, and the black man an ass. The slaves preceded us. We were bound for a place six days’ distant, called Aboul-Joudoul, where was my father. On our way we passed Kelkabieh, the environs of which reminded me of the country places of Egypt; but the town is better built, richer, and more lively. Many foreigners are seen there. The natives are, for the most part, wealthy merchants, having great numbers of slaves, with which they trade. The district belonging to this town is vast and open, and there are great numbers of wells, the water of which rises nearly to the brim. The date-tree flourishes there, as well as abundance of vegetables: as cucumbers, vegetable marrows, onions, fenugreek, cumin, pepper, and various other plants well known in Egypt. The sour lemon is also found.

Not far off are the mountains of Marrah, which stretch north and south from one end of Darfur nearly to the other, cutting the country into two unequal parts. This range is traversed by a series of defiles, which enable the western and eastern provinces to communicate. The true Forians inhabit these mountains, and shun the plain, where they think themselves in less security.

At Kelkabieh there was a well-frequented market, where we bought provisions and departed, proceeding three days along the mountains of Marrah, until we came to a country, the inhabitants of which, hating travellers, especially Arabs, received us very roughly. Thenceforward we passed over plains, and, having rested at Tarneh, arrived on the sixth day at Joultou, in the district of Aboul-Joudoul. Here we saw a house, at the gate of which were horses, asses, and servants. My father was receiving visitors. We entered, and a number of young black slave-girls came running to meet us, and surrounded us, welcoming our arrival. Then the guests of my father went away, and he approached us, and testified his joy at beholding me. I kissed his hand, and remained standing before him out of respect. He ordered me to be seated. I obeyed; and a little after he said,—

“What studies hast thou pursued? What hast thou learned?”

“The Koran,” replied I, “and something of scientific matters.”

These words rejoiced him.

The day after my arrival my father gave a great feast, slaughtering an ox and several sheep, and inviting all his friends. We passed a day of joy. A short time afterwards he requested my uncle and me to get ready and go up to the steps of the throne, to offer, in his name, presents to the Sultan, to his Grand Vizier, and to his Vizier.

The Sultan, Mohammed Fadhl, son of Abd-er-Rahman, was at that time very young, so that the government was in the hands of Mohammed Kourra, the Grand Vizier. It was he who had placed the boy on the throne at the death of his father. Report said that he was derived from the slaves of the palace; but this is not true, for he was of free birth. He was a devoted minister, and well fitted to govern, endowed with genius, sagacity, and courage. No man knew better than he to guide political matters.

We started, according to my father’s desire, for Tendelty, at that time the seat of the Sultan. This place was called the Fasher, it being the custom in Darfur to apply that name to whatever spot the Sultan chose for his habitation. On the third day we arrived, and found the city filled with crowds of people; there was constant moving to and fro of foot-passengers and of horsemen, and the people were sitting in groups before their doors; the air was filled with the sound of tambourines and the trampling of cavalry. We repaired at once to the house of the Vizier, Fakih-Malik, to whom my father was immediately subject. He was in the midst of his servants and his suite, and various public officers, but received us with politeness and benevolence, and ordered a place to be prepared for our baggage. Then he offered to conduct us to the palace of Sheikh Mohammed Kourra, which we found surrounded on all sides by the horses, dromedaries, and asses of people who had come to obtain audience. The dignitaries of the state surrounded him. I was introduced as the son of the learned Shereef Omar, of Tunis, and was well received, as were also the presents. He spoke in terms of compliment of my father, and ordered Malik to lodge us. We remained at Tendelty three days, in the midst of honours, festivals, and contentment. Then I was called to audience, and received a present of a green shawl and other garments, two beautiful slaves, and a negro. Then he wrote a complimentary letter, and dismissed me well pleased. As for Malik, he gave me a young slave-girl, whom he described in the letter he also sent, as “firm-bosomed, solid as a cube, and of the age of the Houris.” She was named Hamaidah. Well contented to be the bearer of these presents, I returned to my father, and rejoiced his sight.

CHAPTER III.

Omar plans a Visit to Tunis — The Sheikh is established at Aboul-Joudoul — Unfairly deserted by his Father — Insurrection of Mohammed Kourra — His Death — Gallant Fight — Sketch of the History of the Kings of Darfur — Tyrab — Anecdote of the Birguids — A Strange Dowry — Story of the Sultan Abou-Bekr — True Love — Another Story of Passion — Rise of Kourra — A black Economist — Expedition to Kordofal — Its Origin — Designs of Tyrab — A Conspiracy against his Life — Death of Ali Bargou — Diplomacy — Kourra and the chief Wife of Tyrab — Plot — Death of Tyrab — Elevation of the Orphan.

I remained in repose at my father’s house until the month of Ramadhan, when my father went to the Fasher to salute the Sultan. There he met the Grand Vizier, Kourra, and begged permission of him to be allowed to go to Tunis, that he might see his mother before her death. He added, that he would leave me in Darfur, for the country where my father resided was a kind of fief which had been confided to him by the late Sultan. He had at first, however, been placed at Guerly, but had refused to remain there, because the inhabitants had no knowledge of the Arabic language. His present district contained three villages. It was agreed, therefore, that I should be settled in that country, that I should collect the taxes, and cultivate it for my advantage.

When Kourra had exacted from my father a promise that he would return to Darfur, he gave him permission to depart, and wrote letters to the chiefs of the various provinces through which he would have to pass, ordering them to receive him and furnish him with escorts. So my father bade adieu to Kourra, and returned to us, thinking of nothing but his journey. He prepared to set out as soon as possible. He sold his cotton, of which he had sown twenty feddans, and turned all he possessed into money, even his flocks, and his oxen, and his asses. He took with him his slave-women, his blacks, and all that I had received from Ahmed Bedawee and from the Sheikh Kourra. He left me only a single slave-woman, who had a web in her eye, called Farhanah, two blacks, with their wives, an ass, and a sick dromedary. He also left me one of his wives, called Zohrah, and his brother’s wife, each of whom had a daughter. He sold all his grain-pits, except one, which he gave to me. He then placed in my hands the contract of donation of lands which had been ceded to him by the late Sultan. This document, having enumerated the various titles of the prince, constituted Omar of Tunis the absolute master of the district of Aboul-Joudoul and its three villages. Having thus provided for me, my father put his baggage on his camels, and went away with his slaves, his harem, and his brother, and left me to myself.

Now it came to pass in the month of Regeb, 1219, that the Ab Sheikh, Mohammed Kourra, was killed in a battle during a revolt, in which he was engaged in spite of himself, and in which he was obliged to make war against the Sultan Mohammed Fadhl. His enemies excited the prince against him by their calumnies, accusing him of a desire to dethrone him in favour of his brother. It was this that caused the weather to become cloudy between them. The Sultan tried to seize Kourra, but he escaped from his hands, and went to live among his people in his house, still in the same province. Not being able to reduce him in any other way, the Sultan sent soldiers to prevent him from getting water from the lake in Tendelty. For three days Kourra got water from a distance, but not in sufficient quantities, so that his partisans began to suffer from thirst, and murmured against fortune, and insisted on being led away. But Kourra assembled them, and marching down to the lake, defeated the guards there placed. Upon this the royal army advanced, but was defeated with terrible loss, and the Sultan fled away to the opposite side of the lake. During the night Kourra began to count his loss, and found that his brother had been killed. So he exclaimed, “For whose sake do I now fight? I care for nothing else in life!” And he ordered his people on the next battle not to follow him amidst the foe. This order caused great desertion in his camp, for people felt that he had ceased to wish for victory. In the morning the tambourines gave the signal of combat, and the troops of the Sultan advanced on horseback. Kourra mounted on his war-steed, and dashed at once into the mêlée, breaking the lines opposed to him, until he came in presence of the Sultan, and might have killed him; but he stopped, remembering the benefits he had derived from his father, and exclaimed, “Thou hast listened to the calumnies circulated against me, and this is the way in which you recompense my services.” The Sultan was alarmed, and trembled, and wished to fly, and called out to his people, “There he is—he is going to kill me!” So from all sides they rushed upon Kourra, and surrounded him, as the ring surrounds the finger. The Ab, seeing that there was no salvation for him, fought like a lion, and many warriors fell beneath his sword. He soon became covered with wounds, but, in spite thereof, he fought in the midst of the crowd for nearly an hour, until some one, coming behind, hamstrung his horse. Then he fell, and, being heavy with his double iron-mail, could not get up again; so his enemies rushed upon him like dogs upon their prey, and he was killed. May the mercy of God be upon him!

Then they stripped him, and found that he had more than a hundred wounds from sabre or lance. Meanwhile the son of his wife—he was himself an eunuch[8]—named Shilfoot, came, breaking through the crowd, in the hopes of finding him still alive, and rescuing him—but it was too late; so he fell right and left upon the enemy, killing numbers of them, and shouting, “Come, the price! the price! Pay me the price of Kourra!” At length, however, he also fell.

Such was the end of the great Ab Sheikh, Mohammed Kourra; and I will now relate his life, and how he raised himself to power; and I will set down, at the same time, what I have learned from several old men about the history of the Sultans of Darfur.

The Sultan Mohammed Fadhl was son of the Sultan Abd-er-Rahman, who was son of the Sultan Ahmed Bekr. The latter had seven sons, Omar, Abûl Kasim, Riz, Rifa, Tyrab, Tahir, and Abd-er-Rahman, surnamed El-Yatim, or The Orphan—because, at the death of his father, he was still unborn. When Ahmed Bekr saw that his hour was drawing nigh, he assembled around him the dignitaries of the state, and declared it to be his last will that the Sultanship should pass alternately from one of his sons to another, as death took them off; but that the children of each should not reign until all the seven were dead. So Omar governed in the first place, and reigned until he fell in battle against the sovereign of Wadaï. His successor, Abûl Kasim, also reigned seven years, and was killed in the same way. To him succeeded Tyrab, surnamed the Seeds of Syria, who hated war, and remained at home, occupied in the cares of government for thirty-three years. He loved boisterous amusements, and was fond of dress. During his reign there was fertility and peace, and all provisions were cheap. But, towards the end of his life, he was detested on account of the extravagant conduct of his children, who were in number more than thirty, without counting the girls. These princes were ever wandering on horseback through Darfur; and if they heard of any valuable thing at once seized it as their property. Every one suffered by them and feared them. One went so far as to give up riding on horseback, and would only ride upon men, seizing any passers-by, and compelling them to carry him. Complaints were made to the prince, who would not, however, believe or pay any attention to them. The eldest of his sons was called Izhak, surnamed the Kaliph, and was brave, intelligent, but avaricious and tyrannical.

Tyrab was addicted to debauch and to pleasure. Often young girls and boys played and danced together in his presence, and he loved to behold them. One day a troop of Birguids came to the Fasher. These people have a particular dance, called Tendegueh, during which, when the couples are tired, they go, lads and lasses, two by two, to sit together; and so, after they had danced before the Sultan, they went thus to sit two by two, and one of the dancers said to his partner,—

“Wilt thou take me for thy husband?”

“Yes; but what wilt thou give me for a dowry?”

“Alas! I am poor; I can give thee nothing more valuable than he who is opposite me.”

This was the Sultan.

“Very good,” said the girl: “I accept.”

Now it happened that Tyrab was observing their signs, and called them to him, and asked for an explanation. The young man boldly said,—

“I was asking my sweetheart here, if she would marry me; she consents, but asks for a dowry; and I have answered her that I have none other to give but thee.”

“This is a singular dowry,” said Tyrab; “and has she accepted?”

“Certainly,” said the young man.

Then the Sultan said to the girl,—

“Wilt thou allow me to take a substitute, and to pay a ransom?”

“Willingly,” answered she; “I consent—I accept.”

So Tyrab sent for the father of the young girl, and asked her in marriage, and drew out the contract with her father; and gave to the bride for dowry two beautiful slaves, and to the bridegroom a handsome negro; and, moreover, added wherewith to live comfortably. Verily, this was a fine trait, for there is nothing more excellent than to unite those who love by a pure tie.

A similar story is told of the Kaliph, Abou-Bekr. He used to wander by night through the Brilliant City, in order to know the true state of his people, and to discover who was the victim of oppression. In one of his rounds he heard in the street a young girl singing these verses:—

“Alas, I loved him even before they tore away my talisman;

In his walk he describes the graceful bending of a branch:

His countenance is like the lustre of the full moon—

Like it, he appears and disappears,

And he is of the stock of Hashim.”

Abou-Bekr knocked at the door, and said to this young girl,—

“Who is he that thou lovest?”

“Depart from hence,” cried she.

He persisted, saying: “Thou must tell me the name of him thou lovest.”

“By the name of the Prophet, who is now in his tomb, I conjure thee to depart from hence!”

“By the name of God, I will not go away until thou hast told me who is the object of thy love!”

Then she heaved a profound sigh, and replied,—

“An unhappy flame consumes me; I am full of trouble. I love Mohammed, son of Kasim.”

“But art thou free?”

“No; I am a slave.”

“Of whom?”

“Of such a one,” naming him.

Then Abou-Bekr went away, and, in the morning, learned that the son of Kasim was upon an expedition in Irak. So he bought the young slave-girl, and sent her with a letter to her lover, explaining what had come to pass; and adding, “My son, how many hearts have sickened unto death for women! and how many virgins have languished in disappointment!”

This reminds me of another story. Suleiman, son of Abdel Malik, was of an extremely jealous disposition, and sometimes put to death individuals whom he suspected of having cast an eye of covetousness on any of his women. Once he called a singer to him: it was daytime; he caused him to sit at the foot of his bed and to sing. Now, it happened that the weather was warm, and a young slave-girl was employed in fanning him, and the combined influence of the music and the cool air sent him to sleep. The singer, whose eyes had been downcast, suddenly looked up and saw the Kaliph slumbering, and the young girl still waving the fan. He fixed his looks upon her, and she seemed to him to be splendid as the sun at the fourth hour of the day. He became troubled, but he dared not speak, for the Kaliph was there. Tears of love gushed from beneath his eyelids, and passion burned within him. He took a piece of paper and wrote upon it these two verses,—

“I have seen thee in a dream—I have seen thee beside me—I drank the cool dew of thy lips.

“Yes, yes, we have passed the time together on the same couch!”

He threw this paper to the young girl, who took it, and added three other verses,—

“Thou hast seen aright: everything that thou darest to hope for thou shalt obtain, even if the jealous one has his face dragged in the dust.

“Yes, thou shalt pass the time by my side, between the bracelets of my wrists: thou shalt come upon my lips and in my arms.

“We shall be the first lovers who have been united in spite of fate and the jealous one.”

She threw the paper to the singer, but the Kaliph stretched out his hand and caught it as it passed, and read it. His eyes flashed, and he exclaimed,—

“What motive has guided you? Is this an old intrigue, or is it sudden love that has made you drunk?”

“By the heaven above, it is the love of an instant. No word bound as together.”

And tears of fear fell from their eyes. The Kaliph’s heart was softened, and, turning to the singer, he said,—

“Take her, but never again appear in my sight.”

As I have said, Sultan Tyrab lived to a great age. He had many wives and concubines, and thirty of his sons at a time were able to ride on horseback: Mohammed Kourra was a mere boy when he entered his service. The Sultan put him among the korkoas, or lancers, who march behind the Sultan when he rides out, and guard him during his audiences. But they are not exclusively devoted to the guard of the prince, but follow also the inferior governors. They suggest the idea of authority. Kourra remained a certain time in this chosen corps, and gave proof of great sagacity. Tyrab loved him, and placed him in the service of the Saum-in-Dogolah, or imperial mansion, a place of great consequence. In his new position, Kourra rendered himself indispensable, and Tyrab generally consulted only him. This roused the jealousy of his colleagues, and one day one of them said to the Sultan, “Kourra is a traitor: I see him every day with one of your concubines, who slyly gives him the best dishes from the kitchen.” The Sultan upon this determined to revenge himself, but Kourra, hearing what had happened, took a knife, and, shutting himself up alone in a hut, with his own hand mangled himself. Coming forth, he presented himself before the Sultan who was in a neighbouring hut, and said,—“I was accused of betraying thee, but that is now impossible; I hope I shall no longer be suspected,” Then he fainted, and the Sultan, deeply moved, ordered him be treated with the greatest care.

When Kourra was cured, Tyrab gave him into the care of one of his Viziers, the Emin Aly Wad Jami, and ordered him to be well treated. The Emin received this charge with reluctance. But, nevertheless, Kourra was at length named chief of the guard of the Saum-in-Dogolah. In this position he distinguished himself by a more economical and methodical arrangement of the dishes supplied to each department of the palace; so that every one was better satisfied than before, and there remained sufficient to serve as presents to people who happened to be receiving strangers. It was supposed that these presents came from the Vizier, for Kourra had the prudence to conceal his share in the matter. Many people came to give thanks for what they had received, and he, whilst listening to them, was puzzled, and could not understand wherefore they praised him. One day, on coming out of the harem, he perceived Kourra distributing dishes, and stopped and hid himself to listen. Presently he heard a voice saying,—“How many strangers are there with such a king?”—“So many.”—“Then take him so many dishes, and do not forget to say that the Emin sent them.” In this way Kourra forwarded a variety of presents, and the Vizier discovered the origin of the praises that had been given him, and was pleased, and raised him to the rank of superintendent of the stud—a very high dignity. Kourra remained at this post until he accompanied the Vizier to Kordofal with the Sultan Tyrab.

I shall say a few words of the origin of this expedition. In former days there was a Sultan, named Saloun, who divided with his brother the country which they had inherited—Saloun taking Darfur, and his brother Kordofal, which had formerly been united under one government. They swore never to undertake any intrigue one against the other, and they and their descendants remained in peace for nearly two centuries, until the time of Sultan Tyrab. Sultan Hashim, prince of Kordofal, then collected a great army, and being of an ambitious disposition, determined, it is said, to conquer Darfur. He began by sending marauding parties to the frontiers, and when his cousin wrote to him, begging to cease his molestations, answered insolently. Tyrab, therefore, resolved to make war, or, at least, chose this as a pretext. The real reason, however, was, that he had formed a plan for breaking through the law of succession laid down by Ahmed Bekr at his death. He wished to leave his throne to Izhak, the Kaliph, and resolved to send the sons and grandsons of Ahmed Bekr, and of the great people, into battle, that they might be killed, and so that there should be nobody to oppose his designs. His secret, however, was discovered, and, indeed, his whole plan subsequently failed, by the death of his son, Izhak, who was killed in battle, as will be seen.

At the news of the approach of Tyrab, Hashim fled away with his suite and family, and took refuge in Sennaar, so that Kordofal was conquered with ease. The Sultan ransacked the country, and reduced the people to silence, and remained there until the next year, when his troops and his followers loudly demanded to be allowed to return to Darfur. He, however, pretended that Hashim was about to return, and that it was necessary to remain to resist him. Soon, however, the disgust of the army increased, and secret councils began to be held. At one of these, the Vizier, Ali Wad Bargou, whose daughter Tyrab had married, said boldly,—“What will you give me if I kill the Sultan? I will get rid of him, and you shall put in his place whom you please.” Those whose children Tyrab had taken out to expose them to the danger of being killed promised him great wealth if he succeeded, and it was agreed that the roll of a drum should give the signal of assistance.

At close of day Ali Bargou put on two cuirasses of solid mail, and concealed them with his clothes and, taking his sword, penetrated into the palace, where was his daughter. He knew the love which Tyrab bore her, and thought that the prince might be there; but he found only the princess, who at once perceived something sinister in his countenance. Ali asked news of the Sultan. She replied, that she would go and fetch him, and he told her to do so; but at the same time she perceived the edge of the cuirass shining above his garment, and went and betrayed him, and the guards came, and, after a vigorous resistance, put him to death. This done, the drum of alarm was beaten, and the Viziers and other dignitaries began to collect, thinking that the conspiracy had succeeded. They found the Sultan surrounded by his guards, and dressed in a black garment, with a red turban pulled over his eyes. These are the signs of anger. The corpse of Bargou was brought out, wrapped in a cloak, and uncovered. “Now,” said Tyrab, “do you know who that is, and why he is here?” They thought themselves betrayed, and were humble, but explained that they desired to return to their own country. Their language revealed that there was danger of a revolt, and the Sultan determined to temporise. He promised to return as soon as his health was re-established, for he pretended to be ill, and soon afterwards shut himself up in his palace, as if he were in danger. For this deception he was punished. God afflicted him in reality with disease, so he wrote a letter to the Kaliph, Izhak, begging him to come and join him, and presently the news got abroad that he was at the last extremity: some even said that he was really dead.

Now, Mohammed Kourra used often to visit Kinaneh, the chief wife of Tyrab, who bore the title of Yakoury, or queen, which, however, is sometimes given to the other wives. This princess was a woman of great sagacity, and, knowing that Tyrab was near death, spoke to Kourra, and asked his advice. He replied, that the best plan would be to follow the fortunes of the Orphan, to whom the empire would certainly fall, and promised that he would get her named Yakoury, and her son appointed Kaliph. Izhak was sprung from another legitimate wife of Tyrab. Kourra made the treaty in secret, and stipulated for the position of Ab, which is always held by an eunuch. Meanwhile the illness of Tyrab increased, and he called his Viziers around him, and expressed his last desires, especially stipulating that the army should be placed under the orders of Izhak. They promised to obey him, and retired. Shortly afterwards Tyrab died, and Kinaneh immediately despatched Kourra to the Orphan with the chaplet of the Sultan, his handkerchief, his seal, and his amulet, as a proof of the death of the prince. The Viziers, who had received the last orders of Tyrab, returned and found him dead. They regretted that they had left him, and immediately embalmed the body, and placed it in a palanquin, and intended to start for Darfur, pretending that the Sultan was ill. Their object was to deliver the whole country into the hands of Izhak. But Sheikh Kourra, in the meantime, had gone to the Orphan, and told him what had happened, and he came to the palace with two of his elder brothers, and caused it to be understood that they knew what had occurred. The Viziers, who wished to obey the last orders of Tyrab, were astonished, and began to fear that their plan would fail; but among them was the Emin Aly Wad Jami, who declared that he would abide by the orders he had received. So he called Kourra, and said to him,—“Go, and tell my son, Mohammed, to arm his soldiers, and come to the palace.” But Kourra, who had gone over to the party of the Orphan, ordered the soldiers to place themselves under his command; and Aly Jami, finding himself betrayed, poisoned himself.

CHAPTER IV.

New Sultan — Anecdotes of the Orphan — Death of Izhak — Just Administration — The Ulemas — A Mamlook Refugee — Conspiracy — How it was defeated — The Reward of Kinaneh — An ignorant Vizier — Mohammed Kourra — Instance of his great Wisdom — He is appointed Ab — Death of Abd-er-Rahman — Fadhl succeeds to the Throne.

It was now necessary to proceed to the election of a new Sultan, and after some discussion the council of princes procured the setting aside of Riz, on account of his violent character, and of Tahir, on account of the number of his children, and placed Abd-er-Rahman, the Orphan, upon the throne. Every one was satisfied with the choice, and great rejoicings filled the country.

The youth of Abd-er-Rahman had been exemplary. He had learned the Koran by heart, and had applied himself to the study of laws. He had never imitated the bad habits common to the sons of the Sultans of Darfur, who used to ride through the country and treat every Forian as if he had been a slave. From his earliest age he had been without reproach, and pure, and if he arrived, during his travels, at any place, he used to say, “I am the host of God,” and if he were well received, he remained, and, if not, he went his way. It is related that, in one of his travels, he put up in the house of a man belonging to the Berli tribe. This man recognised him, and killed a fat sheep for his sake. Upon which the Orphan said,—

“My friend, might we not have been satisfied with less than this? If thou hadst killed a fowl, it would have been sufficient.”

“No, my master, no! I swear by God, if I had possessed a she-camel, I would have killed it for thee! Art thou not Abd-er-Rahman, the son of our Sultan?”

“And how dost thou know me?”

“I know thee by thy virtues and thy piety, and I predict that days of glory await thee.”

“Then I, too, swear by the name of God, that if ever I become king, I will give thee wherewith to enjoy better cheer than this!”

He kept his promise, and when he became Sultan appointed his host to be tax-gatherer over the Arab tribe called the Madmen. Many similar stories are told of him, and the country was full of predictions that it would be the Orphan who would succeed Tyrab. The latter prince once tried to poison him, but failed. It was generally reported that his love of science overcame all other passions. He went about in an old ragged shirt, with a wooden chaplet in his hand. He remained in celibacy until his beard began to whiten, being, in fact, too poor to buy a slave or to marry. He never had a companion until, on his way to Kordofal with his brother, the Sultan, a king gave him as a present an ugly slave, named Anbousah, by whom he had a son, the Sultan Mohammed Fadhl, who now reigns.

Abd-er-Rahman distinguished himself by vigour at the outset of his reign, abolished the custom of seven days of laziness after the inauguration, and prepared to depart for Darfur, and dispute the possession of the country with Izhak. The two hostile armies met and fought twice. During the second battle, it is said, at mid-day the stars appeared in the sky. I have seen the battle-field; it is perfectly arid, and I was told that no plant would grow there on account of the quantity of blood that had been spilt. Izhak was defeated on both occasions, and retired into the northern provinces, where he reigned for some time with great cruelty, and gained some advantages in the war that ensued. The struggle continued for a long time, until the Kaliph was killed in a battle by Zabady, an Egyptian fellah, who shot him from a distance. This ended the war, and Abd-er-Rahman became sovereign of the whole country, and established his Fasher at Tendelty.

When the Orphan was free from the anxieties of war he applied himself to administrative reforms, and did everything he could to increase the prosperity of the country. He repressed the habit of drunkenness and debauchery that had prevailed, and rendered the roads so secure that a woman could travel there with all her ornaments. Commerce increased, and comfort was spread through the country. Justice and equity prevailed. He had no pity on those who committed an act of violence or spoliation of any kind, however nearly related.

It has been related to me that he was once met, as he returned from the chase, by two Arabs, one of whom addressed him in these words:—“An injustice has been done me, O Rashid![9] may God preserve thee, an injustice has been done me!” Now, it is the custom among the Forians, that whoever has been a victim of violence utters the cry called Karourak, which is never uttered on any other occasion. The sound is produced by the help of two fingers inserted into the mouth, and moved rapidly from side to side, whilst the letter K is intonated, followed by a paralysed R. Well, one of our Arabs was rolling the Karourak, and repeating “May God preserve the Rashid, I am the victim of an injustice!” but the Sultan, at first, paid no heed, either being occupied by some idea, or not hearing, on account of the sound of the tambourines, and the songs and the hurrahs of the soldiers. The Arab had Karouraked several times, and the Sultan had not asked the reason. Then the other Arab said to his companion, “Let him alone; Rashid is all for himself, and cares nothing for thee.” The Sultan heard these words, and asked what was meant. The man replied,—

“My friend here has Karouraked several times, and has complained to thee. This was the origin of my remark.”

The Sultan smiled, and said,—

“Not so, I am not all for myself. Who has done thee injury?”

“Basy-Khabir.”[10]

Now, Basy-Khabir was one of the relations of the Orphan, who, however, asked,—“What has he taken from thee?”

“He has taken five she-camels.”

The Sultan inquired into this charge, and having found it to be true, condemned Khabir to give back ten camels instead of five.

Abd-er-Rahman nominated, as he had promised, Mohammed Kourra to the post of Father-Sheikh, the highest dignity in Darfur. He who bears it is invested with the right of life and death, and has a court and insignia like the Sultan. No one but an eunuch can occupy this post, because it is feared that whoever occupies it may be induced to conspire to raise himself to the throne. When Kourra was confirmed in his dignity of Ab, the Sultan sent him to the provinces, and he established himself at Aboul-Joudoul.

If the Sultan was severe towards criminals, he was remarkable for his benevolence for Ulemas and Shereefs, and other learned men, who came flocking to visit him from all sides. Among these was my father, who, when he arrived in Darfur, had gone to live at Kobeih, in the house of a sheikh. Many of the principal learned men of the country came here to visit him, and beg him to explain the book of the Sheikh Khalil on Muslim canon law, which he did. The news of his learning came to the ears of the Sultan, who called him to his court, and lodged him in the house of one of his sons-in-law, named Nour-el-Ansary. This man was a Fakih, and loved knowledge. He studied with my father, and spoke of his learning to the Sultan, who read on scientific subjects with my father during the month of Ramadhan. He also requested my father to comment for him the book on the privileges accorded by God to the Prophet, by a Turkish writer, and he produced a commentary, called “The Perfect Pearl,” which he afterwards followed by another work of the same nature, called “The Equal Pearls.”

Abd-er-Rahman was likewise generous, as well as just and pure in manners. He was of middle size, of a dark black complexion, with a beard speckled with white, and a coarse and deep voice. He easily became angry, but he calmed promptly, and pardoned easily. He was possessed of presence of mind and tact, of which I shall give some examples. When the French came to Cairo, and the Mamlouks were driven away, one of the Kashefs, named Zawanah, fled to Darfur, along with about ten other Mamlouks. He had with him also considerable property, with camels, servants, a cook, a valet, and several grooms; he had also with him a cannon and a howitzer. Upon his arrival, he was well received by Abd-er-Rahman, who gave him a dwelling-place, and assigned to him a revenue, and bestowed upon him numerous female slaves. After a little while he begged permission to build a house, like those of Cairo; and, having caused bricks to be baked, got together a number of workmen, chosen among the black slaves, to cut stones, and constructed a habitation of some grandeur. He surrounded it by a wall of extraordinary solidity, with two embrasures turned towards the palace, which this little fortress completely commanded. The fact was, that this Ghouz had formed the mad plan of killing Abd-er-Rahman, and seizing on the government of Darfur. His idea was, that some day, when the Sultan came out with his courtiers, he would fire a volley of grape-shot among them, and thus clear the way to the throne.

However, Zawanah feared, that after the accomplishment of the assassination of the Orphan, the Forians would refuse to obey him. He therefore put himself in communication with the prince, whose sister had married Sultan Tyrab, and proposed to him that they should put his nephew on the throne. The prince agreed to this project, and the conspiracy widened, until one of the chief courtiers was tampered with. This man went and betrayed the whole to the Sultan, who told him to seem to consent, and to keep the secret. Next day Zawanah went to visit Abd-er-Rahman, who received him with more distinction than ever, and presented him with a hundred male slaves, and a hundred female slaves, and a hundred she-camels, and a hundred jars of butter, and a hundred jars of honey, and a hundred loads of millet. He clothed him also in a red shawl and a piece of red cloth, and girded him with the sword, and gave him a horse with a saddle embroidered with gold. The Kashef, transported with joy, departed. “These objects,” said he, “are sent to me by God, to help me towards success!” In the evening, an hour and a-half after the setting of the sun, the Sultan called one of the kings, and ordered him to be on the watch with his soldiers for the time when Zawanah should return to the palace, and then to go and seize his house, and take possession of everything it contained.

These orders having been given, the Sultan sent a lad to the Kashef, to invite him to spend the evening, and he came immediately, and was received with politeness. Some of his servants tried to follow him, but were stopped at the third gate, and told to wait for their master. Abd-er-Rahman sat conversing with the Kashef until a late hour, when he began to say, “I am very hungry,” and ordered food to be brought. A piece of roast meat was placed before them, and a knife was called for, but none was at hand. Upon this the Kashef produced one, and wished to carve; but some of those present begged him not to give himself that trouble, and took away the knife. He then produced his poignard, which was also taken from him. The Sultan now gave a signal, and Zawanah was seized and bound.

“What evil have I done thee,” said the prince, “that thou shouldest seek to assassinate me, to seduce my soldiers, and lead them to revolt?”

“Prince, listen to me!”

“God will not listen to thee, even if I were to listen;” and he gave orders that the Kashef should be put to death immediately. They cut his throat as they would that of a sheep. Shortly afterwards they brought to the palace all the wealth that the Kashef possessed, and there remained nothing in the house, which was demolished, so that not a trace was left.[11]

The servants and people of Zawanah were pardoned, but all the natives who had been connected with the conspiracy were, one by one, at different times, seized and put to death. The brother-in-law of Tyrab, among others, after having been allowed for some time to suppose that he was not suspected, was put to death much in the same way as Zawanah, and all his property was confiscated. All this was accomplished in the adroitest manner possible; and, one by one, the whole of Abd-er-Rahman’s enemies fell before him.

It will be remembered that he had promised great privilege and power to the Yakoury Kinaneh; but, when he had reached the throne, he neglected to fulfil the promises he had made, either on account of business, which occupied him, or because he feared something from this clever woman or her son, Habib. Angry at this indifference, and finding herself forgotten in the harem, and separated from her son, who lived at a distance, the Yakoury set on foot a conspiracy to place Habib on the throne, for she had lost all hope of his elevation, according to the arrangement made, since a new son had been born to Abd-er-Rahman. This prince, however, though he had neglected her, had maintained her in the rank of Yakoury, having supreme authority in the interior of the palace.

She set about the execution of her project in the following manner:—

“My son,” said she to Abd-er-Rahman, “wishes to give a great feast, and I should be glad to help him by sending dishes from hence.”

The Sultan gave permission, and she accordingly prepared great wooden bowls, and placed therein coats of mail and swords, and put food upon the top, and sent forth a hundred at a time, in order to prepare for an insurrection. Having succeeded the first time, she allowed some days to pass, and again asked permission to send to her son the materials of a second repast. Again the Sultan consented, for he did not suspect that Kinaneh harboured any evil design against him, for he was a man without guile or thought of evil.

Kinaneh was successful a second time, and, some days afterwards, she determined to make a third attempt. But, about this time, Abd-er-Rahman perceived, by accident, with Kinaneh, a young girl whom she was bringing up, and who was of high birth and extraordinary beauty. He became enamoured of her, and resolved to speak to the Yakoury, that he might marry her; but Kinaneh, who had seen the effect produced by the girl’s beauty, and who destined her for her son Habib, punished her for allowing herself to be seen. This was the cause of the failure of her conspiracy. The girl, angered by her ill-treatment, and knowing of her conspiracy, escaped, and went and spoke secretly to the Sultan, and announced to him that Kinaneh was carrying away weapons from the armoury of his highness, and that all the dishes sent for the festivals concealed cuirasses and swords.

“If you doubt the truth of this,” said she, “upset one of the bowls which are to be carried forth to-morrow, and you will be convinced.”

The Sultan begged her not to speak of what she knew to any one, and she left him agitated and disquieted.

Next day Abd-er-Rahman was informed, by a man whom he had set as a watch, that the bowls destined for Habib were about to be carried forth. He went immediately and ordered the covers to be taken off, that he might look at the dishes prepared. Among them was one of which he was very fond, so he said,—

“Leave me this, and pour it out into little vases; I want to eat of it.”

The slaves were about to obey, when Kinaneh came in hastily, and said,—

“Prince, I conjure you not to touch these dishes. I will prepare for you exactly similar.”

“No,” said he, “for what you may now make may not please me so well.”

Kinaneh was obliged to yield, and said,—

“Well, let the slaves carry away the others, and keep that one.”

“No,” said he, “empty it, and when you have filled it again, you may take away the whole together.”

So the bowl was emptied, and a cuirass was found at the bottom.

“Oh!” said the Sultan, “what is this?”

Kinaneh was troubled, and knew not what to answer. She was immediately seized, and all the bowls were upset, and found to be full of weapons and money.

“What evil have I done to thee?” said the Sultan to the Yakoury. “Wherefore dost thou conspire against me?”

Kinaneh had nothing to say in reply, and she was immediately put to death. Her son was seized and sent into prison, in the Marrah mountains, and all his wealth was confiscated. As for his accomplices, they were put to death every one, and the country remained tranquil.

Abd-er-Rahman raised to the post of Vizier the Fakih Malik-el-Foutawy, whom he believed to be a man of knowledge and property. This man pretended to know the secret of letters and sciences, although his ignorance was complete. He affected great piety and contempt of the things of this world. When he was raised to the Viziership, he caused to be placed under his authority all the Fullans of Darfur, for he was of that race himself; and he took their part, and protected them even against just complaints. My father has related to me, as an instance of the ignorance of this Vizier, that the Sultan begged him to preach on the day of the festival of Bairam. He asked my father to compose his oration for him. So he composed it, and wrote at the end:—“By the servant of God, the humble one, who implores his bounty, Omar of Tunis, son of Suleiman, on such a day, of such a year;” and delivered the paper to the Fakih. On the day of the festival, having prayed with the Sultan, the Fakih got into the pulpit, and delivered his sermon with great energy, ending with these words:—“By the servant of God, the humble one, who implores his bounty, Omar of Tunis, son of Suleiman, on such a day, of such a year.” He thought this was part of the sermon.

Let us now return to Mohammed Kourra. The Sultan considerably extended the power of this Sheikh, and raised him so high that nobody in the state could approach him. Now the news came that Hashim, who had been expelled from Kordofal by Tyrab, had returned, and retaken the country; so Abd-er-Rahman got together a great army, and placed it under the command of Kourra, who departed, and completely succeeded. He reconquered Kordofal, and drove Hashim into the desert. He remained seven years in that country, sending, from time to time, great riches to his sovereign. But jealous enemies calumniated him, and Abd-er-Rahman sent a general, with an army, to replace him. His object was to test the submission of Kourra. So he gave to the general a pair of fetters, telling him to put them upon Kourra’s feet, and send him back to Darfur. When the general arrived in Kordofal he went to Kourra, expecting to meet with resistance, but the Ab said,—

“Who has ordered thee, and what must be done?”

“I must put these fetters on thy feet, and send thee to the Sultan.”

“I am ready. Give me the fetters.”

Kourra put them on with his own hand, and called a workman to rivet them, and next day set out, and in due time arrived in Darfur.

When the Sultan heard of what had taken place, he said to his courtiers: “Was I not right to say that Kourra would never revolt against me?” And he sent a person to take off his fetters, and received the Ab with great state, and gave him a pair of bracelets of gold, and raised him to a still higher degree of dignity and power. This wise conduct was afterwards useful to his son, Mohammed Fadhl. For, when Abd-er-Rahman died, the Ab took charge of the interests of this prince, and succeeded in placing him upon the throne. Great energy was required to bring about this result, and an insurrection took place against the new Sultan, who, in fact, was a mere boy. Kourra did all he could to instruct him, and to improve his mind, and to prepare him for government. Fadhl was not a willing scholar, but he was compelled to obey, and he passed two years in study, which to him was intolerably disagreeable. During this time Kourra governed with a strong hand, and kept the country quiet; but the people around the court, discontented with his severity, at length excited the Sultan to get rid of him. Kourra, therefore, was obliged to defend himself by arms, and shortly afterwards perished, as we have already related, and God knows all things!

CHAPTER V.[12]

Line of African Kingdoms — Takrour — Description of Dar-el-Four — Wandering Arabs — The Barajoub — The Forians — North-western Provinces — Dajo and Bijo — Birguids — Marrah Mountaineers — Division of the Country — Cavern Prisons — A Visit to the Marrah — Strange Inhabitants — The Sheikh of the Mountain — Genii — Gathering of Guides — An Oratory — Wild Savages — The Prisons — Women — Curious Customs — Spirits called Damzog — Stories of them — Prophetic Drum.

Darfur, or, more properly, Dar-el-fur, the country of Fur, is the third kingdom of Soudan, counting from east to west. The first is Sennaar; the second Kordofal; the fourth is Wadaï; the fifth Bagirmeh; the sixth Bornou; the seventh Adagez;[13] the eighth Afnou; the ninth Timbuktou; the tenth Dar-Mella, where resides the King of the Fullan, or Fellatahs.

Formerly, the name of Takrour was applied only to the inhabitants of Bornou, but it is now extended to all the people who live between the eastern limit of Wadaï and the western limit of Bornou; so that it includes, besides these two countries, Bagirmeh, Katakou, and Mandarah. Some days ago I met, at Cairo, an individual whom I recognised as a Soudanee. I asked him to what country he belonged. He replied, “I am a Takrour.” “But from what place?” said I. After some difficulty, he replied that he was from Bagirmeh.

Darfur is bounded on the east by a sandy and nearly sterile country, and the same description applies to the provinces situated between it and Wadaï. Southward are vast plains, stretching to Dar-fertit, and to the north is the desert, which I have described on my way from Egypt. The country, which is forty days in length from north to south, and eighteen days’ breadth, is divided into numerous provinces, each under the authority of a governor. Some of these governors bear the title of Sultan, but they are all dependent on the Sultan of Darfur. Their mode of life is very similar, and their costume is uniform, except in the case of the Tunjour, who wear a black turban. I asked one of them the reason. He told me that his ancestors had formerly been sovereigns of the whole country, but had been dispossessed by the Forians, and that, since that time, they had worn the black turban as a sign of mourning.

On the east and south, Darfur is surrounded by tribes of wandering Arabs, whose wealth consists in cattle, horses, and furniture. They lead a nomadic life, going from pasturage to pasturage. Some of them possess great herds of camels. The Sultan of Darfur claims from them an annual impost, which they sometimes refuse. The Red Masirieh and the Rezeigat, being the most powerful and most distant in the desert, only give the refuse of their flocks. The agent who is sent to collect the tribute is sometimes beaten and killed. Attempts have been made to punish them by force, but they are generally repulsed with loss. The Arabs retire, if too hotly attacked, with their flocks into the Barajoub, a country situated to the south-east of Darfur. It is a vast marsh, ten days’ journey in extent, but covered with thick forest. Rain is said to fall there all the year round, except during two months.

The whole country of Darfur, on both sides of the chain of mountains, and north and south, is inhabited by a variety of tribes which do not belong, properly speaking, to the Forian race. The latter, who speak a language apart, occupy the range of mountains, but have conquered the whole surrounding country. There are in the country also a number of people of mixed race, children of strangers.

The districts on the northern frontier are the most fully populated. They are called Zaghawah and Berti, and exhibit a remarkable contrast; the people of the latter being gentle and good, and of agreeable physiognomy, with women of remarkable beauty, whilst the people of the latter are different from them in every respect. The corresponding districts, at the southern extremity, are Dajo and Bijo, and the women of the latter are also more beautiful than the women of the former. The people of Birguid and of Tunjour, who occupy the middle provinces, are not contrasted by personal appearance, but by character; the former being treacherous, dishonest, and rapacious, without fear of God or the Prophet, whilst the latter have a certain amount of religion and intelligence. The mountaineers of Marrah are all savage and brutal in the same degree, except that at Dar-Abbima, towards the south, both men and women are more affable and of more agreeable aspect. Glory be to the Creator, who has permitted these striking contrasts! At Dar-el-Massalit the beauty of the women is ravishing, silencing the reason and captivating the heart. Nevertheless, the most beautiful women who are found in Darfur are, without exception, those of Arab descent; and the same remark applies to the men.

All the provinces of Darfur, properly so called, are divided into lots, which constitute so many properties, each belonging to one of the high dignitaries of the state. The two largest appanages of this kind are those of Abdima and Tekeniwi. They each have under their orders twelve governors, bearing the title of “Shartay,” or prefect. The Aba Oma has under his orders four governors; the For-an-Aba has also four governors, and the Ab-Sheikh four. Besides the territories specially assigned to these great functionaries, there are portions kept for the Emins, Shereefs, Kadis, &c. In this way it happens that the Sultan really possesses only certain domains, as Guerly, Tendelty, &c.

About one-half of Darfur is plain country. Towards the east the land is almost entirely sandy, but the slopes of Mount Marrah are composed of black mould. This chain, as I have said, traverses nearly the whole length of Darfur, but is cut into a variety of groups, by transversal defiles. On this kind of sierra are established numerous populous tribes. Among these are the Kunjarah, from which are derived the Sultans of Darfur. In this range are hollowed out an enormous quantity of caverns, some of which are used as prisons for the sons of princes, others for viziers, &c.

The Forians of Marrah are well off, possessing abundance of oxen and sheep. There is no other province the inhabitants of which can be compared to these mountaineers. All their flocks and herds feed alone, without guard, and no care is taken against robbers, or against lions, or against wolves.

In the year 1220 of the Hegira (1805 A.D.) I asked permission of Sultan Mohammed Fadhl to go and visit the mountain of Marrah, with a firman from him. He hesitated at first, fearing for me, on account of the savageness of the inhabitants, but afterwards he allowed me to depart. He gave me an escort and a firman, addressed to all the governors of the mountains, enjoining them to aid and protect me, and allow me to see every thing that was curious, whether apparent or hidden. I started, accordingly, with two Falkanahwy, or policemen, two of my own slaves, and an inhabitant of my village. We marched for two days, and the third we arrived near the mountain, and came to a village called Numleh, the chief of which was Fakih-Nemr. This Nemr had two sons. We stopped at their house, and were received with politeness. Having explained the object of our journey, and exhibited our firman, they prepared to honour us, and served up an excellent meal. Next day we went to see the market of Numleh, which is held every Monday,— men and women crowding thither from all parts of the mountain, to buy and sell. I beheld there a remarkably black population, with blood-shot eyes and reddish teeth. When I appeared, the astonished crowd collected around me: they marvelled at my brown complexion, flushed with red. Every one came in a succession of crowds to examine me. They had never seen before an Arab of my colour, and it entered into their heads that it would be a curious thing to kill me, that they might examine me more at their leisure. But I did not understand the subject of their discussion until I saw my escort draw their swords, and interpose between the crowd and me. I asked what was the reason of this movement, and they answered,—

“These blacks wish to kill thee.”

“And wherefore?”

“They are ignorant brutes, and say that thou camest into the world before thy time; that thou art not a ripe man. Others pretend that thy skin is so thin that, if a fly were to prick thee, all thy blood would start out. Another has proposed to give thee a wound, to discover how long it would take to empty thy veins. This is why we feared for thy life.”

My people took me away from the market, beating back the crowd as we went. It was with some difficulty that we escaped. From thence we proceeded to a valley, which we found to be shaded by date-trees and bananas, and some lemon-trees, and plentifully sown with onions, garlic, red-pepper, cumin, coriander, fenugreek, and short and long cucumbers. It was autumn, and the dates were just beginning to blush. They cut for me two clusters of the red fruit, and two clusters of the yellow, and they gave me a great gourd full of honey, of which I have never tasted or smelt the equal. We passed the night pleasantly in that place, and in the morning began traversing a series of valleys, divided by ranges of hills, each about a mile in breadth. Everywhere was a luxuriant cultivation, and the running streams, that glanced over their sandy beds, seemed like streaks of silver. Each valley is bordered on either hand by a kind of hedge of trees, which cause it to resemble a winding avenue. We sat down in a shady place: a fat kid was killed, and we feasted upon it with delight. We then proceeded to a village at the foot of the mountain, where we were well received, and rested till next morning, when we climbed the great range. We were three hours in reaching the summit. On all sides, upon the slopes, we saw numerous villages, and an ample population. We were taken to the Sheikh of the mountain, named Abou-Bekr, whom we found alone. He was a very old man, covered with wrinkles. When we had saluted him, he welcomed us, and bade us sit down.

It is remarkable, that the summit of these mountains is only completely free from clouds for a few days of the year. There is sufficient rain to allow wheat to come to perfection. Few harvests can be compared to these, except those of Barbary and Europe. The rest of Darfur, with the exception of a few cantons, where well-water is used, does not produce wheat. On a certain day of the year the Sheikh, or Old Man of the Mountain, of whom we have spoken, is visited in crowds by the people for consultation. On that solemn day, set apart for divination, he predicts what is to come to pass during the year,—drought or rain, war or peace, serenity or misfortune, disease or health. His prophecies are profoundly believed; but the Forians differ in opinion about the source and the cause of the power which he possesses of seeing into the future. Some pretend that he works by Divine inspiration, and that he who wears the dignity of Sheikh of the Mountain, is necessarily, and always, illuminated of God, and a holy personage. This is the explanation of the learned men of Darfur. Others declare that the genii tell him what is to come to pass. For my part, I do not know what value should be assigned to these two opinions; but this I do know, that many prophecies are attributed to him which have not been fulfilled.

On hearing the contents of our firman, the Old Man of the Mountain overwhelmed us with kindness, and ordered a meal to be prepared. Then he sent out some one to the east of the hill with orders to beat the great tambourine, called “Tenbel,” and presently from all sides numerous people came streaming towards us. From the crowd thus collected he chose a hundred young men, and appointed over them, as chief, one of his relations, called the Fakih Zaid, celebrated for his courage. He expressly ordered this troop not to quit me for a moment, and to be ever on their guard against the rustic brutality of the mountaineers.

We got on horseback and rode away over the high land towards a solitary peak which specially bears the name of Marrah, and from which the whole chain has so been called. There we found a kind of small oratory, esteemed highly sacred by the people, who venerate it equally with the mosques. An enormous tree overshadows this oratory, on which the sun never shines. We entered and sat down awhile. There are several servants of the place whose duty it is to keep it clean, and to receive the offerings or ex-votoes of visitors.

Proceeding on our journey, the soldiers of Zaid marching in front, we soon beheld a multitude of men and women running towards us from all sides. I was looked upon as an extraordinary being. There was a perfect scramble to get sight of me. They pushed and shoved one another, and though the escort closed around they could scarcely keep off the crowd. These strange people were saying one to the other, “The Sultan has sent to us a man born before his time, that we may eat him.” Others exclaimed, “No; this is not a human being, but an animal under the form of a man, whose flesh is good to eat.” These mountaineers cannot believe in the existence of men with white skins and rosy complexions.

These savages know of Arabic only the few words which compose the confession of faith, and these they pronounce wildly with a broken, jerking manner. However, the agreeable reflections of the populace were translated to me, and I became afraid. Zaid also, finding it impossible to keep off the crowd in any other way, told me to hide my face in the shawl of my turban, leaving only my eyes visible; so I veiled myself and stood in the midst of the soldiers. The negroes, no longer seeing my face, were stupified and said,—

“Where is the red fellow?”

“He has returned to the Sultan,” was the reply, and by degrees they left us.

We now proceeded to the state-prisons, that is to say, the caverns where the sons of princes and viziers are incarcerated. The gaolers at first plumply refused admission, and we almost came to a serious quarrel, but Zaid read out my firman, and the chief was calmed. He then said that I might go into the caverns alone, if I pleased, but that my companions must remain aloof. I refused to take advantage of this permission, fearing that some evil might befall me, and expressed my wish to depart.

It is the custom among the mountaineers of Marrah, that no one shall marry a woman until he has lived with her, and had by her one or two children, and thus convinced himself that she is fruitful. Then the man remains with the woman, and regards her as his wife. Women do not, as with us, avoid the society of men. If a husband, on returning home, finds his wife conversing with a man, he is not angry unless with good cause. Young boys and girls do not conceal any part of their bodies until the age of puberty. At that age the boys wear a shirt and the girls a kind of short petticoat; but from the navel upwards they remain quite naked.

The Forians of Marrah are brutal and passionate, especially in a state of drunkenness. They are excessively avaricious, and never receive any guests besides their parents, except for interested motives. They have no idea of cleanliness, no variety or art in the preparation of their food; they eat indifferently whatever they see that seems eatable. Bitter or rotten substances are not cast away, and they sometimes even prefer this kind of food to others. In every village the young men have a chief whom they call Wornan, and the young girls also have a chief called Meirem. On days of rejoicing, festivals and ceremonies, the Wornan assembles his lads, and all go and sit down in a large place. Then the Meirem appears with her damsels, and advances a little a-head of them and sits down. The chief of the young men comes forward and talks with her, and then she orders her girls to divide themselves among the youths; so each one takes away a companion and goes and passes the time where he pleases.

In Darfur the men devote themselves alone to no trade except that of war, from which alone the women are dispensed. Both sexes follow their occupations pell-mell, except that the most fatiguing work is given to the women. Men and women remain always together night and day; and it is remarkable that, contrary to the opinion of Europe, the constant society of the female sex does not in any way soften the manners of the country. The people of Marrah do not consume the wheat which they harvest, but sell it and buy millet.

The most singular thing I heard related whilst I was in these mountains is this, that the genii act as guardians of the cattle. It is for this reason that the herds are left to wander where they will. Many persons assured me seriously that if any one, passing near a flock and seeing it without a guard, should attempt to steal a sheep or a cow, and to kill the beast, his hand, still armed with the knife, would remain fastened to the throat until the arrival of the owner. I have a hundred times heard instances of protection afforded by the genii, but was at first inclined to reject the whole as lies and dreams. But this is what happened to myself. Being near the Marrah mountains I went to a person of Numleh, to question him about the genii. On drawing near his hut I saw nobody, but began to call him by his name. Then a loud and terrible voice, which made me shiver, shouted “Akibe!” that is to say, “He is not here.” Nevertheless, I was going to advance and pursue my inquiries, when an individual, who was passing by me, took me by the arm and drew me away, saying,—

“Be off! be off! He who speaks to thee is not a human being.”

“And what is he, then?”

“He is the guardian genius of the hut. Nearly every one of us is thus protected. We call the genii in Forian, Damzog.”

Upon this I feared and withdrew.

On returning from the Marrah to the Fasher, I went to visit the Shereef Ahmed Bedawee, who had brought me from Cairo to Darfur, and related to him this adventure and my terror. “The man was perfectly right,” said Ahmed, who went on to relate to me things still more wonderful. “At the time when I first began to trade, my friend, I often heard that damzogs could be bought and sold, and that to procure one I must apply to the owner of a damzog, and discuss the price with him. When the bargain is concluded, it is necessary to give a large gourd of milk to the seller, who takes it to his house, where are his damzogs. On entering he salutes them, and goes and hangs up his vase to a hook, saying,—‘One of my friends—such a one—very rich, is in fear of robbers, and asks me to supply him with a guardian. Will one of you go and live in his house? There is plenty of milk there, for it is a house of blessing, and the proof thereof is, that I bring you this kara of milk.’ The damzogs at first refuse to comply with the invitation. ‘No, no,’ say they, ‘not one of us will go.’ The master of the hut conjures them to comply with his desires, saying,—‘Oh! let the one that is willing descend into the kara.’ He then retires a little, and presently one of the damzogs is heard to flop into the milk, upon which he hastens and claps upon the vase a cover made of date-leaves. Thus stopped up he unhooks the kara, and hands it over to the buyer, who takes it away and hangs it on the wall of his hut, and confides it to the care of a slave or of a wife, who every morning comes and takes it, emptying out the milk, washing it and re-plenishing it, and hanging it up again. From that time forward the house is safe from theft or loss. For my part, I believed all these things to be absurdities.

“Well, my wealth increased; but my slaves and servants constantly robbed me. Vainly did I have recourse to all kinds of means to prevent them; I was always duped. One day I complained to a friend, who recommended me to buy a damzog, certifying that I should be thus effectually protected. The desire of preserving my property induced me to comply, and so I went to a possessor of damzogs, and bought one in the way I have described. I appointed a slave to watch over the kara, and from that day forward I was free from care. I even left my warehouse-door open, and nobody in my absence dared to approach. I had there considerable wealth and abundance of merchandise. If anybody attempted to steal he was immediately prevented by the damzog. In this way he killed several of my slaves.

“My son, Mohammed, was now growing up. The love of women was his chief passion. He wished, in order to enable him to pursue his conquests with greater ease, to make some presents of beads and ornaments. So he watched a favourable moment, and one day, without my perceiving it, took the keys of the workshop and opened it; but he had scarcely entered it when the damzog broke his neck, and killed him on the spot. I loved my son tenderly. The news of his death was a thunderbolt to me. My grief was indescribable. I inquired into the cause of his death, and was told that he was attempting to take my goods when the damzog killed him. Then I swore that the damzog should no longer remain in my house, and endeavoured to drive it away, but in vain. I took counsel of a friend, who said to me:—‘Prepare a great repast, and invite a number of guests, warning them to come in a single troop, armed with guns and powder. They must all together fire a volley at the entrance of thy workshop, shouting aloud in Forian, ‘Damzog ah aiye?’— Where is the damzog? The volleys must be repeated, always accompanied by the same cry, and the crowd must enter the place where the merchandise is guarded by the genius. In general the damzog is frightened, and flies away.’ I performed this ceremony, and thanks be to God the damzog disappeared.”

It has often been related to me, that among the great drums, or tymbals, preserved in the dwelling of the Sultan, there is one called the “Victorious,” especially patronised by the damzogs, and that sometimes this instrument resounds when no one is near. This phenomenon announces that some great event is about to happen—some foreign or intestine war.

The habits and manners of the other tribes of Darfur, such as the Berti, the Dajo, the Bijo, &c., are pretty nearly the same as those of the people of Marrah. If some of them differ by being more hospitable and benevolent, they owe this improvement to association with Bedawin Arabs, and of the merchants who come to them from Egypt and other distant countries. Those who received strangers best are those who speak the Arabic language.

CHAPTER VI.

Philosophy of Geography — Absolute Authority of Princes — Order of Succession — Old Women Counsellors — Strange Customs — Public Audiences — Servility — Barbarian Etiquette — Clothing of the Buaso — Superstitions — Festival of the Sowing — Court of Tendelty — A Perilous Office — Taxes — King of the Buffoons — Birds of the South — Music and Songs — Abd-er-Rahman and the Ulemas — The Yakoury — Queen Mothers.

In examining the different forms of empire, the varieties of tastes and habits, it is evident that the great Creator—may His Majesty be glorified!—has multiplied their different aspects in order to show us the immensity of his power and the profoundness of his wisdom. Moreover, God has impressed a different character on every climate. There are cold climates and hot climates, and temperate climates, according to their distance from the equinoctial line. If God had wished it, he could have made of all nations a single nation; but he has assigned to them dissemblances, in order to incite men to travel, and to learn that of which they are ignorant. Having stated these truths, let us come to the point.

The Forian princes have customs different from those of other princes. The sovereign of Darfur exercises boundless despotic power. He may put to death thousands of individuals, and no one asks him wherefore. He may degrade whom he pleases, and no one asks him wherefore. His orders, however adverse they may be, are always obeyed, and no one resists, even by a word. The only resource is to cry for mercy; but, if the Sultan chooses to commit an act of injustice, the hatred it excites remains for ever concealed.

In Darfur the sovereign must be of the blood of the Sultans. No stranger, not even a descendant of the Prophet, can pretend to the throne. When a prince is invested with power, he rests for a week in his dwelling, without issuing orders of any kind. During this space of time no affair is brought before his tribunal. The Sultan Abd-er-Rahman was the first who derogated from this custom.

The Forian Sultans are surrounded by a kind of Aulic body, composed of old women, called Habbobah, under the orders of one of their numbers, called the queen. When the Sultan leaves his privacy of seven days these old women unite, bearing iron switches, about two feet long, which they clash one against another, producing a singular sound. One of them bears a kind of broom of date-branches, which she dips into a prepared liquid, and therewith, from time to time, sprinkles the Sultan, uttering certain mysterious words. Then they conduct the new prince from his private dwelling to the House of Brass, where the tymbals of the Sultan are kept. Having entered, they take the Victorious tymbal and place it in the midst. The Sultan remains alone with the Habbobah, who continue to clash their twigs of iron, and to repeat their mysterious exclamations. After this ceremony they lead the prince to the place where is the imperial throne.

The movement of public affairs now begins, and the sovereign opens his Divan. He never addresses the ordinary words of salutation to any one, however great, except through the medium of an interpreter. Those who obtain audience place themselves on their knees, and an interpreter repeats their names, adding a form of word to this effect: “Such a one salutes you humbly.” Having gone through the whole, he adds, “and their people or their children are behind them.” Then the negroes, who are standing in the rear of the prince, begin to cry out “Salutation! salutation!” If the assembly is great, a large wooden urn, shaped like an inverted cone, and covered with a skin, called a dingar, is beaten. It gives a great sound, and is not used on any other occasion. On grand occasions, there are seven interpreters ready to explain the petitions of persons who come to ask for justice. The forms of salutation are very intricate.

The people of Darfur have many singular ways of expressing veneration for the majesty of the Sultan. Among others, whenever he clears his throat, his spittle is immediately gathered up from the ground by his servants with their hands.[14] When he coughs, as if about to speak, everybody makes the sound of ts, ts as nurses do to amuse their little ones; and, when he sneezes, the whole assembly imitates the cry of the jeko, which resembles that of a man urging on his horse to speed. In grand council, the Sultan is fanned with a large bunch of ostrich-feathers. When he goes out to hunt he is shaded by a parasol of the same material; and these insignia are under the special care of a high official. If the Sultan, being on horseback, happens to fall off, all his followers must fall off likewise; and should any one omit this formality, however great he may be, he is laid down and beaten.[15]

A strange ceremony is sometimes celebrated by the Forian princes. It is called the Clothing of the Buaso, and consists in renewing the skins of the great tymbals, called in Egypt Nakarieh. The ceremony is one of the greatest solemnity, and every year lasts seven days. In the first place, all the tymbals must be stripped on one day—which done, bulls, with dark grey skins, are slaughtered to supply the new coverings. It is pretended that these bulls are of a particular species, and that, when they are about to be slaughtered, they lie down quietly, and submit without resistance. They are killed without the ordinary preamble of “B’ism Illah;” and it is said that they are thus held down and kept tranquil by genii. When they are slaughtered the flesh is separated from the bones and skin, and put into large jars of salt for six days, at the end of which other animals are slaughtered, and the flesh mixed. Tables are then laid out, and all the sons of the Sultan, and all the Kings, and all the Viziers, are invited, and compelled to eat. There are inspectors at each table to see that nobody fails; for if any one does so, it is believed that he is a traitor. No conspirator, in fact, can eat of this food. If any one keeps away, under pretence of illness, a plate of meat is brought to him, and if he declines to eat, he is seized. Many pretend that for this festival a young boy and a young girl, not yet arrived at the age of puberty, are slaughtered, cut up, and mixed with the salt meat; and it is added that the boy must be called Mohammed, and the girl Fatmeh. If this be true, these men must be infidels and barbarians. For my part, I have seen nothing of this ceremony, foreigners never being allowed to be present.

Before the meat is served up, a general review of all the troops takes place at the Fasher, and, afterwards, the Sultan repairs in state, first to his palace, and then to the House of Brass. Arrived there, he takes a drumstick, and strikes three blows on the Victorious Nakarieh. The corps of old women is there still, beating their twigs of iron. If any Governor or Vizier happens to be away at the time of this ceremony, instead of the trial by meat-eating, he is subjected to the trial by Killi,—that is to say, he is compelled to drink water in which the fruit of that name has been infused. If he be not a conspirator, he immediately vomits; but, if he be guilty, he can drink a large jar-full without doing so. I have seen the experiment tried on a person accused of theft. It is possible that these effects may depend on some particular properties of the Killi, for in Darfur there are many plants of singular virtue, of which we shall speak, if it please God.

There is a remarkable custom, called the Festival of the Sowing, in Darfur. The Sultan possesses, as his domain, cultivable land, which is sown every year. After the rains, he goes forth in great pomp, escorted by more than a hundred young women, chosen amidst the most beautiful, and adorned with their richest garments and jewels. These women are the best-beloved of his harem. They wear upon their heads vases filled with the most delicate viands, and they walk behind the Sultan’s horse with the young slaves, called korkoa, armed with lances, and with a troop of flute-players. They move on with music and singing, and even the young girls join in the concert. When the prince has reached the open country, he gets out of the saddle, and taking different kinds of grain whilst a slave turns up the ground with a hoe, casts them in. This is the first seed that falls in the country where the Sultan then is. Afterwards the kings, viziers, the officers of the court, following the example of the Sultan, also cast in grain, and the whole plain is soon quickened for the harvest. This done, the dishes are brought by the young girls, and spread out before the Sultan, who begins to eat with his courtiers. Then the whole party get into the saddle again, and return in a grand cavalcade to the Fasher. This Festival of the Sowing is one of the most solemn in Darfur.[16]

The court of Tendelty is organised in a very complete and singular manner. The different dignitaries are named after different parts of the Sultan’s body. The Orondolon, for example, means the head of the Sultan, and his duty is to march in the van of the troops; the Kamneh, or neck of the Sultan, is still higher in rank, but his privileges are counterbalanced by one extraordinary duty, viz. that of allowing himself to be strangled if the king happens to be killed in battle. After these functionaries come the backbone, and the right arm, and the left arm, each with different duties. The Ab-Sheikh, or Father-Sheikh, is above all the before-mentioned dignitaries in rank. He is almost the equal of the Sultan, and possesses the right of life and death without control. There are numerous other officials, each with distinct duties. One of the principal is the King of the Door of the Women, or Chief of the Eunuchs. There is also the King of the Slaves, of the Custom-House, and of the Tax-gatherers. None of these officers receive any direct payment, but all have extensive districts assigned to them, from the revenues of which they are expected to supply arms, clothing, and horses for themselves and their soldiers.

The tithe of grain and of cattle belongs exclusively to the Sultan; but each of the governors has private property, which is cultivated by forced labour. They have also the right to impound and appropriate all wandering property, as slaves, oxen, sheep, and asses. All fines also go to them. For example, if one man wounds another, he pays so much for the blood spilt, all of which goes to the governor, whilst, if death ensues, only one-half does, the remainder going to the parents of the deceased. If a man intrigues with a married woman, both the guilty parties are compelled to pay a fine. It must also be remembered that all kinds of labour are taken by force, and used gratuitously.

I must not forget to speak of the Kingship of the Maugueh, or Buffoon of the Sultan. This is the least respectable office in the court, but it is sufficiently interesting to describe. The Forians have a natural tendency to pleasure, to gaiety, to games, and festivals. They pass no day without some entertainment; kings and people share the same passion; and they have invented every possible means of enjoyment, and all kinds of instruments. Every king has a train of young boys, chosen for the beauty of their voice, and called Korkoa. They are supplied with pipes made of reeds, through which they not only blow, but sing, mixing up the notes and the words in a singular manner. They are accompanied by a remarkable instrument, consisting of a dried gourd, in which some pebbles have been introduced, and which are shaken in time to the notes and pauses of the flutes. Often the Sultan, on ceremonial occasions, causes this band to be followed by his harem, bearing dishes; and on these occasions, a drum resembling the araboukka of Egypt, is added to the concert. There are masters in Darfur who teach both music and singing. The singers precede the Sultan in groups, one individual of which begins a stanza, while the others sing the chorus. On these occasions, when the whole crowd of horse and footmen are beating tambourines, or playing on flutes or pipes, or singing, the noise created is perfectly stunning. The flutes are called the Birds of the South, because in Southern Darfur are found many birds with agreeable notes, from which it is said the Forians have learned their style of playing.

To the above musical entertainment are added the songs of the Maugueh, who form a considerable corporation, having a special king. They have not only to perform the droll duties of buffoons, but many others, and especially the horrible one of executioner. Commonly the Maugueh wear a kind of band round their heads, with a plate of iron on their foreheads, in which is loosely fastened a long horn or nail, which shakes and tinkles as they move. This is shaded by one or two ostrich-feathers. They wear iron anklets, and each carries a leathern bag in which to place these ornaments, as well as their tartour, or tall, conical cap, covered with shells and beads, when they have finished their sittings. In their hands they carry a crook, to which are suspended little bells.

Two or three of these buffoons generally stand up before the Sultan when he holds a divan; and when he travels or hunts several go before him, singing, dancing, mimicking the bark of a dog or the mewing of a cat, and uttering various absurdities to create a laugh. Their songs are in the Forian language, never in Arabic. Their dance does not consist of contortions of the hips, like that of Egypt, but they shake the head from one side to the other, and, striking their legs together, make their anklets jingle. When the Sultan is very far from the Fasher they cease to sing, but all together, at the top of their voices, cry, “Ya! ya!” as long as the prince is on horseback.

Every governor has buffoons of his own. These odd beings care little for the anger of their master. They have a right of familiarity, even with the Sultan. They conceal nothing that they learn against the private character of the courtiers, but bawl out their scandalous stories in full divan. They have stentorian voices, and are also used as criers. They may often be heard after sunset screaming out in the streets.

The Sultan Abd-er-Rahman loved the Ulemas, and was frequently with them night and day. He never appeared in council without having one or two with him. This difference excited the jealousy of the Viziers. “What,” said they, “does the Sultan prefer these fellows to us? Verily, after him we will take care not to put upon the throne a Sultan who can read and write.” A Maugueh heard these words, and, dissimulating, waited for a day of public assembly. The Viziers were present, and the buffoon began to say, “Certainly, we will take care not again to elect a Sultan who can read and write.”

The Sultan turned round and inquired, “Wherefore?”

“Because thou preferrest the company of the Ulemas to that of the Viziers.”

Irritated at this observation, the Sultan glanced furiously at him, so that he feared for his skin, and added,—“I am not to blame, for I overheard these people,” pointing to the Viziers, “say these words.”