Chapter XIV: Politics and Literature

Not content with being priests, magistrates, and scholars, the marabuts farther extended their influence over the domains of politics and literature.

We have shown great and small hastening to the dwellings of these learned men to seek counsel and consolation from their holiness and wisdom, and in this manner the marabuts accustomed themselves to giving advice without always waiting to be asked for it. These pious and wise men ‘remonstrated, sometimes severely, with people of all classes, even princes.’ Kadi El Akib, for example, ‘possessed a mixture of firmness and independence which raised him above all prejudices; he expressed his opinion to the sultan with the same frankness he employed to his humblest subject. When he observed anything in his sovereign’s conduct that was reproved by the Law of the Prophet’ (_nota bene_, it is always possible to find a text in the Law of the Prophet which will command or forbid anything, no matter what), he would resign his post and retire to his house.’ Thus the marabuts glided into the dangerous path of politics.

Their intrusion into the political world soon led to their being regarded with grave suspicion, and finally caused their fall. As we have seen, the soldierly fist of Sunni Ali weighed heavily upon those who opposed him.

The marabuts regained their lost ground, however, under the Askias. The founder of the dynasty, whether from conviction or expediency, showed himself their ardent and untiring friend, and we have seen them lending devoted support to the usurper in return, and legitimising with sacred texts his assumption of the throne. They were kept constantly about his person, and he consulted them in everything, even asking their advice in matters of war. He appealed to them in all legal affairs, and treated them, in short, as his ministers. A pamphlet of the period, found in a library at Timbuctoo, describes the part played by the marabuts. Its author is not a Sudanese, but is one of those Arabian doctors who travelled about the Sudan in the reign of the famous monarch, and whose description is unfortunately still wanting. The very original character of El Moucheïli may serve to fill the blank, perhaps.

Born in Tlemcen in Algeria, ‘he combined a remarkable intelligence,’ says his biographer, ‘with a passion for study, and was distinguished as much by his piety as his erudition.’ Of a bold and enterprising disposition, and filled with zeal for the Koran, he devoted all his knowledge and energies to the cause of fanaticism. Having gained considerable influence with the Assembly of Notables during his sojourn in the confederation of Tuat, he urged them to a persecution of the Jews. Not content with degrading and depriving these people of their privileges, he incited the populace to massacre them and destroy their synagogues. The Grand Kadi of the Republic highly disapproved of this violence, and the ulemas of Fez, Tunis, and Tlemcen were consulted on the question. Two of them defended El Moucheïli, and one of them drew up a long memorial on the legitimacy of intolerance, addressing the hero of Tuat in the following words: ‘All honour to our brother the zealous doctor, who alone had courage in these times of corruption to proclaim his faith in open day, to resist abuses, and to arouse lukewarm souls to the true religion. It is a glory to him to have opposed with such energy the enterprises of the Jews (whom may God crush with His scorn!). He only has been found sufficiently faithful to awaken the people whom worldly interest has made deaf to the voice of the Prophet.’ On the reception of this letter El Moucheïli announced the triumph of his opinions to his partisans and commanded the destruction of the synagogue. He put a price upon the Jews, and paid seven mitkals (ninety francs) a head for them out of his own purse. The massacre which followed obliged him to quit the country and seek refuge in the heart of the Sudan, where he found shelter and a position in the court of Askia the Great.

The Songhoi king asked him seven questions on the subject of the reforms then occupying his mind, viz. the regulation of commercial transactions, the suppression of fraud, the establishment of the tax on land, the tithe upon newly conquered countries, the question of inheritance, and the measures to be taken to ensure morality and good manners among the Sudanese.

The pamphlet in my possession contains these questions and the answers made to them by the Arabian sheik, which are treated as carrying all the force of law. El Moucheïli counsels, among other things, the creation of inspectors of markets and manners, and the verification of weights and measures. Besides these excellent reforms, he suggested the adoption of measures which are in every way regrettable, bearing as they do the imprint of the severity and intolerance of which he had given ample evidence in his campaign against the Jews of Tuat. He advocated the most stringent regulations, generally accompanied by a death penalty, and always based upon the most judicial and religious arguments.

This excessive zeal and the great influence El Moucheïli exercised over the Sudan (he is still an authority there) leads us to a subject upon which hitherto we have not had occasion to touch, but which, nevertheless, is of considerable importance, viz. the psychology of the Mussulman negro.

The character of the Sudanese in general, and the Songhoi in particular, is essentially based upon a foundation of goodness and docility, and they lack the elements necessary to produce the savage sectarian so common to the north of Africa and Asia. The Sudanese generally adopted the religion of Mahomet out of pure snobbishness, because their conquerors professed it, and it reflected some prestige upon them and gave them a claim to consideration. Once under European rule, therefore, there would be no impediment to their conversion to Christianity. Left to themselves, they form the type of the tolerant Mussulman. Five centuries after the introduction of Islamism into the Sudan we still find the fetichist’s temple standing side by side with the mosque, even in great centres like Jenne, where the idolatrous altars were not destroyed until 1475. Among the numerous biographies of the saints I have never seen the intolerance of these pious individuals boasted of nor even mentioned. In a general way, the tepid fervour of the populace is tainted by the naïve scepticism displayed by Sunni Ali in the very typical incidents I have already described. They seldom observe the fast of Ramadan in all its rigour, and I have mentioned the consumption of intoxicating liquids once or twice before. Circumcision and the daily prayers constitute, in fact, their principal observances of the Mohammedan religion.

Contemporary history of the Sudan has, however, revealed frequent fanatical explosions and numerous holy wars. The curious biography of El Moucheïli has disclosed one of the causes of these disturbances, namely, the influence of the Arabian Mussulman, which at the present moment principally makes itself felt by the propaganda of the sect of the Snoussi. Another fruitful cause is to be found in the pilgrimages to Mecca. It is, therefore, through direct, or indirect, contact with the foreign Mussulman of the white races that the Sudanese is transformed into a sectarian, and it is from this contact that we must preserve him in order to maintain peace in the Nigerian countries.

Finally, and most characteristically, it is not the pure-bred negro among the populations of the Sudan who allows himself to be led into holy wars, but it is those people in whose veins the blood of the white races flows, the Foulbes of Berber origin, and the Toucouleurs, who are a mixture of the Foulbe and the negro of Mali.

* * * * *

Among the Sudanese marabuts noted as the ministers of Askia the Great, Mohaman Koti, or Koutou, deserves special notice. With him we shall have occasion to speak of the literary productions of the Sudan, for among the Nigerian writers worthy of attention he is the first in date.

According to some he was a Malinka, according to others a Songhoi born at Karamiou. His education, begun at Tindirma, was completed at Timbuctoo, and he became the most esteemed and even tyrannical counsellor of the great king. His authority originated in the following manner. Askia one day distributed some dried dates among his retinue, and Koti, newly arrived at the court, was somehow overlooked. Shortly afterwards the learned doctor assembled his pupils and dispensed fresh dates among them. This miracle--for the Sudan does not produce dates--having reached the ears of the king, he immediately discerned that Koti was marked with the divine seal. From that moment Askia gave him all his confidence, and bestowed so much wealth upon him that he was free to devote himself entirely to literature.

The Sudanese doctors were enabled to add the works of their own authors to the books of Bagdad, Cairo, and Grenada, which formed the foundations of their libraries. These writings were almost invariably of a serious kind, scholastic and judicial treatises, and the greater part of their productions are entirely without interest to us. A fraction of it, on the other hand, is of the highest importance, and contains those historical works which shed so much light upon the obscure past of these vast regions.

Under the title of the _Fatassi_, Koti edited a history of the kingdoms of Ganata, Songhoi, and Timbuctoo, from their origins to the year 1554 (950 of the Hegira). In spite of the most persistent research, I have not been able to procure more than fragments of this important work. Every one knows all about it, but no one possesses it; it is the phantom book of the Sudan.

Koti was born in 1460, and as he survived Askia the Great by fourteen years, and was connected with all the public affairs, his account of this brilliant epoch of the Sudan would be of inestimable value. The fragments we have discovered amply prove this, and their extreme interest greatly augments our regrets. ‘Perhaps you will find a complete copy at Dia or Korienza,’ they told me. But all I could discover was one of the descendants of the historian, named Ahmadou Sansarif, who exercised the functions of kadi at Timbuctoo. He was very well informed, and revised the manuscripts which had been copied for me, and these are the facts he imparted concerning the great work of his progenitor:--

‘The _Fatassi_ has never been so well known as the other histories of the Sudan because it dealt with the concerns of many peoples and many men. Families, since grown rich and powerful, and the chiefs of various countries, were shown with very humble origins, sometimes being the offspring of slaves. The book caused great annoyance to many people on this account, and those interested bought all the copies they could procure and destroyed them. The original manuscript, however, had been transmitted to our family. One of my great-aunts, living in Tindirmah, had inherited it, and guarded it jealously. To avoid unpleasantness, and at the same time preserve the book from destruction, she had it placed in a wooden box and buried under a hillock close to her house. My aunt was a widow, and among other charms she possessed the gift of conversation. Her house was the centre of frequent gatherings, and when she was asked, “What is this mound in your garden?” she always replied, “It is Ahmadou Koti, my venerable ancestor, who is buried there.” Her friends never failed to say a short prayer over the mound, for Koti had left a great reputation for piety and wisdom behind him. A Foulbe succeeded in becoming so intimate with my aunt that she imparted her secret to him. He immediately quitted Tindirma and went to his king, Cheikou Ahmadou, to reveal to him the existence of a complete copy of the _Fatassi_. Shortly afterwards the king sent a troop of soldiers to dig up the mound and discover its precious treasure; but as they were returning to Hamdallai the bearer of the priceless volume capsized his canoe, and the book was lost to the world for ever.’

We have seen that, in order to legitimise his holy war and his conquests, Cheikou Ahmadou gave himself out to be the twelfth Khalif, and rested the pretension upon an obvious fabrication professing to be taken from the _Fatassi_. Is it not likely that the Foulbes organised the persecution of the book with the intention of destroying the proofs of their king’s trickery?

* * * * *

The political influence of the marabuts steadily increased under the successors of Askia the Great, and we have shown them remonstrating with the unnatural sons of the unhappy old man. The turn taken by their authority is interesting and unexpected, for it represents what we to-day call ‘public opinion,’ and we are about to see the Songhoi kings showing themselves singularly susceptible to its influence.

‘The king, Askia Moussa,’ relates the _Tarik_, ‘having been defeated in the countries of Lake Chad and obliged to take to flight with his army, said to his generalissimo, “In spite of all the anguish of defeat, it is less painful to me to endure than is the thought of what will pass in Timbuctoo when the news of my disaster reaches there. The agitators will gather together behind the mosque of Sankoré and say, Young men, have you heard what is passing in Kanta? The king has been forced to fly lest he and his army should perish. They whom he has fought would annihilate him!--I can hear them as plainly as though I were there.”’

Other anecdotes show us the marabuts treating the royal authority with a freedom which savours of insolence. The sovereigns, on the other hand, display a great lack of spirit, and by the sixteenth century the pious scholars have become a politically dangerous and turbulent element.

It was this which brought upon them the Moorish exile; their conquerors, although Mussulmans, soon saw that the mosque constituted their sole danger. It was undoubtedly at the instigation of the marabuts that Timbuctoo revolted against the foreign garrison, and the pasha Mahmoud employed a soldier’s method (that is to say, a radical one) of quelling these priests. He arrested a great number of them, with their families, and despoiled them of their wealth, which had become considerable. A certain proportion were massacred, and the rest, after five months’ imprisonment, were exiled to Morocco (1594).

Their misfortunes surpassed those endured by their ancestors under Sunni Ali, for they were dragged in chains through the desert and incarcerated at Marrakesh. Though they had abused their power in the days of prosperity, they did not succumb to the blows of adversity. So far from humiliating themselves before their merciless conquerors, the firm and haughty demeanour they maintained excites our admiration. One of them, finding death to be near, charged his companions to deliver a sealed letter to the sultan, which contained these words: ‘Thou art the oppressor and I am the oppressed, but oppressor and oppressed alike shall stand before the Eternal Judge.’

However regrettable this exile may be from its consequences to the Sudan, it does not lack great historical interest. It is the touchstone which enables us to test the eulogies concerning Sudanese science and learning contained in the native documents, for we now see the scholars of Sankoré confronted by the highest developments of Arabian civilisation. How will they stand the ordeal? The test proves entirely to their advantage.

Among the exiles was a learned doctor, Ahmed Baba by name, born in 1556 at Arawan, of Senhadjan[14] Berber parentage. In spite of his youth, he enjoyed a considerable reputation in Timbuctoo at the time of the Moorish conquest, and his brethren gave him the title of ‘The Unique Pearl of his Time.’ His renown increased in Morocco and became universal, spreading from Marrakesh to Bougie, Tunis, and even to Tripoli. The Arabs of the north called this negro ‘very learned and very magnanimous,’ and his gaolers found him ‘a fount of erudition.’ At the request of the Moorish scholars the doors of his prison were opened a year after his arrival (1596). All the believers were greatly pleased with his release, and he was conducted in triumph from his prison to the principal mosque of Marrakesh. A great many of the learned men urged him to open a course of instruction. His first thought was to refuse, but overcome by their persistence he accepted a post in the Mosque of the Kerifs and taught rhetoric, law, and theology. An extraordinary number of pupils attended his lectures, and questions of the gravest importance were submitted to him by the magistracy, his decision always being treated as final. With a modesty worthy of his learning, he said concerning these decisions: ‘I carefully examined from every point of view the questions asked me, and having little confidence in my own judgment I entreated the assistance of God, and the Lord graciously enlightened me.’

The ancient histories of Morocco relate many other interesting details, and the author of the _Bedzl el Mouasaha_ reports the following utterance of Ahmed Baba: ‘Of all my friends I had the fewest books, and yet when your soldiers despoiled me they took 1600 volumes.’ The Nozhel el Hadj gives the following instance of the courage and pride of the negro sheik: ‘After he was set at liberty Ahmed Baba presented himself at the palace of El Mansour, and the sultan gave audience to him from behind a curtain. “God has declared in the Koran,” said the sheik, “that no human being can communicate with Him hidden behind a veil. If it is your wish to speak to me, come forth from behind that curtain.” When El Mansour raised the curtain and approached him, Ahmed Baba continued, “What need had you to sack my house, steal my books, and put me into chains to bring me to Morocco? By means of those chains I fell from my camel and broke my leg.” “We wished to establish unity in the Mussulman world,” replied the sultan, “and since you were one of the most distinguished representatives of Islam in your country, we expected your submission to be followed by that of your fellow-citizens.” “If that is so, why did you not seek to establish this unity amongst the Turks of Tlemcen and other places nearer to you?” “Because the Prophet says, Leave the Turks in peace so long as they do not interfere with thee.” “That was true at one time,” responded Ahmed Baba, “but since then Iba Abbas has said, Leave not the Turks in peace even though they should not interfere with thee.” El Mansour, being unable to reply to this, put an end to the audience.’

Although apparently free, Ahmed Baba was detained in Morocco for twelve years; the sultan had only released him on that condition, fearing the effect of his influence on his fellow-citizens. It was not until after the death of El Mansour that permission was obtained from his son for the learned man to return to the Sudan. Ahmed Baba then set out for the country to which he had so ardently desired to return, and of which he never spoke without tears in his eyes. The following verses were written by him in his exile:--

‘O thou who goest to Gao, turn aside from thy path to breathe my name in Timbuctoo. Bear thither the greeting of an exile who sighs for the soil on which his friends and family reside. Console my near and dear ones for the deaths of their lords, who have been entombed.’

The principal marabuts of Marrakesh formed him a guard of honour at his departure, and, at the moment of farewell, one of them seized Ahmed Baba by the hand and saluted him with the following sûra from the holy book: ‘Certainly he who has made the Koran for thee shall lead thee back to thy point of departure’--a customary address to a traveller in wishing him a safe return. On hearing these words, the sheik abruptly withdrew his hand, exclaiming, ‘May God never bring me back to this meeting, nor make me return to this country!’

He reach Timbuctoo in safety, and died in 1627.[15] A man of great learning and a prolific writer, the names of twenty of his books have been handed down to us. Except for an astronomical treatise, written in verse, and some commentaries on the holy texts, his books are chiefly elucidations of the law and the sciences he professed, and prove that he was above everything a jurist. Two of his works alone possess general interest; they have been preserved, happily, and I was enabled to bring copies of them away with me. One is entitled the _Miraz_, and is a little book upon the different negraic peoples, written by Ahmed Baba in exile, with a view to making the Sudanese populations known to the Moors. The other is _El Ibtihadj_, a large biographical dictionary of the Mussulman doctors of the Malekite sect; in it Ahmed Baba carried on the famous work of Ibn Ferhoun, and made it a continuation of the latter’s _Dibadje_. The learned biographer added to it the lives of all the scholars whom Ibn Ferhoun had not mentioned. Ahmed Baba completed his book in 1596, and it had such a great success in both northern and negraic Africa that the author was obliged to publish a popular edition containing the principal biographies only.[16]

It is partly owing to the _Ibtihadj_ that it has been possible to reconstruct the intellectual past of Timbuctoo, and for this reason the name of Ahmed Baba deserves to be held in pious memory by our savants, as it is by those of the Arabian countries of Northern Africa. To this day his name represents to the latter every effort made by the Sudan to attain the intellectual level of the Mussulman world; so much so, in fact, that any Sudanese work of unknown parentage is attributed to him.

The family of Ahmed Baba is not yet extinct, and I found some of his descendants living near the mosque of Sankoré in a house of considerable size, which had been, I was told, the home of their ancestor. One of his great-great-grandchildren, Ahmadou Baba Boubakar, is kadi, and enjoys a considerable reputation for learning; the other, Oumaro Baba, lives by making copies of books, which he executes in a very beautiful handwriting. The family religiously preserve a chair which had belonged to their glorious progenitor, to whom it had been presented by his liberator, the Sultan El Zidan. A curious family tradition is connected with this venerated piece of furniture. On the occasion of the marriage of a member of the family, the bridegroom is permitted to seat himself in this chair on the day of his nuptials. It is hoped, they told me, that some of the great qualities of the illustrious sheik will fall upon the husband and his descendants.

That sixteenth century, which we saw end so disastrously for the marabuts, formed the apogee of Timbuctoo’s scientific and literary grandeur. The wholesale arrest and exportation of her scholars proved a fatal blow to the university of Sankoré. The decline of learning, as of everything else, set in with the Moorish occupation, and yet the greatest work of all the literature of the Sudan was produced in the first days of its twilight, namely, that _Tarik é Soudan_ (the History of the Sudan) which we have so often had occasion to mention.

The Orientalists have long been on the watch for this precious book, whose existence had been signalled to them from Tripoli, Algeria, and Morocco, and which had been unanimously attributed to Ahmed Baba.

The explorer Barth, who was the first to reveal some of its fragments, confirmed this error. How could a man so well informed on Arabian subjects be so completely deceived? The very extracts collected by him refute this paternity, for they cite Ahmed Baba as an authority. But the learned German is not to be embarrassed by such a trifle. ‘It is the custom of these Arabs,’ he observes, ‘to quote themselves.’

If he had read the entire book with more attention, he would have seen that the date--year, month, and day--of Ahmed Baba’s death is mentioned by the author, and that elsewhere he gives a very circumstantial account of himself and his belongings. His name is Abderrahman (ben Abdallah, ben Amran, ben Amar) Sadi el Timbucti, and he was born at Timbuctoo (the ‘object of his affections’), of one of those families in which science and piety are transmitted as a patrimony. In mentioning the death of an illustrious professor, he observes that he, Abderrahman, was his pupil; and from this we may gather that his youth was spent in study. He arrived at the age of manhood somewhere between 1625 and 1635, at a time when the power of the pashas of Timbuctoo was on the wane. The Moors had intermarried with the native populations, and, instead of persecuting the sheiks as formerly, they protected them, and made use of them when they were in need of intelligent and devoted men. We can see with what consideration a learned man like Abderrahman Sadi was treated; and the account of his journey to Massina and the regions of the Upper Niger shows the high reputation he enjoyed, not only in Timbuctoo, but in all the countries which shared the intellectual life of that city. Wherever he went he was received with joy, covered with marks of respect, and overwhelmed with presents. In 1631 he was nominated iman of the mosque of Jenne. Deprived later of the honour by the kadi of the town, ‘a man who rejoiced in exactions and injustice,’ he returned to Timbuctoo, where society consoled him for his mortification by the most heartfelt marks of sympathy. He relates that when he visited the kadi of this city, ‘he arose from his seat as soon as he saw me, and, taking me by the hand, he seated me upon the chair he had just vacated.’

Abderrahman Sadi lived sometimes at Timbuctoo and sometimes at Jenne, being employed on negotiations and missions by the pashas, and engaged as secretary to one of their number. He also occupied his time in giving lectures and holding conferences, and, above all, he undertook the great historical work which embraced all the countries of the Niger. Thanks to his voyages, his official functions, and his personal position, he had access to all existing documents, so many of which have disappeared in the toil and tumults of centuries. This work, to which he consecrated the last years of his life, is inestimably precious.

The _Tarik é Soudan_ is conceived upon a perfectly clear and logical plan, according to the most correct rules of literary composition. Nothing is lacking, not even a preface, which I will quote because it shows, among other things, the very clear, perhaps exaggerated, estimate the author had of the decadence of the empire:

‘Praise be to God whom the weight of a pearl upon the earth does not escape. May prayer and salvation be with the Master of the first and last, our Lord Mohammed. We know that our ancestors took pleasure in mentioning the companions of the Prophet and the saints, the sheiks and eminent kings of their country, with their lives, their edifices, and the great events of their reigns. They have told us all that they have seen, or heard, of the times extending behind us.

‘As for the present time, no one is to be found to take an interest in these things or follow the path traced by their ancestors. Witnessing the decline of this science (history), so precious on account of the instruction it offers to mankind, I have implored the assistance of God in writing down all that I have read, seen, or heard concerning the kings of the Sudan and the Songhoi people, and in relating their history and the events connected with their expeditions of war. I shall speak of Timbuctoo and of its foundation, of the princes who have wielded the power of that city, I shall mention the learned and pious men who dwelt therein, and I shall continue this history to the close of the dominion of the sultans of Morocco.’

After this prelude he opens his history at the earliest date known to him, and notices the origin of the Songhoi kingdom, the founding of Jenne and Timbuctoo, and of the empires of Ganata and Mali. He rapidly and clearly familiarises the reader with the principal towns and peoples which are to figure in his narrative, and he enters fully into his subject with Sunni Ali. We are taken as far as the year 1653, and given an excellent idea of Foulbes, Touaregs, Mossi, and Ouolofs by the way. He dilates upon Morocco and the kingdom of Massina, adds a series of biographies of saints and scholars, and appends his own _curriculum vitæ_.

He does not consider his work ended with the task he set himself to do, however, and the historian takes up the pen of the annalist. ‘What shall happen hereafter I will relate in the same manner as that which is past, for as long as I shall be alive,’ says the last page of the _Tarik_. An appendix enumerates all the events until 1656, which we may take to have been the year of his death.

Such is the plan of the important work which served as my charming and picturesque guide through the Sudan. It forms, with the exception of the holy writings, the favourite volume of the negro, and is known to the furthest extremity of western Africa, from the shores of the Niger to the borders of Lake Chad. Barth discovered fragments of it at Gando, and I heard it spoken of in Senegal. I found an excellent copy in Jenne, and had a duplicate made from it, which was corrected from an example at Timbuctoo, so that we possess the book in as complete a form as possible.[17]

Its style is very simple and clear, entirely lacking those literary artifices so much in vogue among the Arabs; and the author displays an unusual conscientiousness, never hesitating to give both versions of a doubtful event. His biography of the great infidel, Sunni Ali, shows him to be sufficiently impartial, and his book is above everything remarkable for the admirable philosophy (Islamic, be it understood) pervading it. It is a work of elevated morals, and is particularly adapted to exercise a happy influence upon the negraic mind; for Abderrahman is not content with a mere narration of events--he explains them, and that without having recourse to the convenient fatalism of the Mussulman who says of a calamitous event, ‘It was written.’ He accounts for incidents as being the reward of God when they are fortunate, and as the punishment of such-and-such a crime when they are disastrous. Severe towards all infractions of the divine law by kings and humble alike, and sternly stigmatising all cruelty, he relates every good action with obvious pleasure, and exalts all forms of courage, especially the civic. The whole book is a collection of active morals, and is one of the most charming of its kind, for fables, marvels, and miracles are agreeably intermingled with real events.

I will remark farther that the _Tarik_ is to this day the Hozier of the Sudan. In addition to the attractions to be found in its pages, it contains a charm which entirely escapes the Sudanese, and which we alone are privileged to taste, viz. the _naïveté_, good-nature, and delicious sincerity which pervade the book. Like Homer, Abderrahman sometimes wanders astray, pen in hand. Side by side with the gravest events he mentions that ‘a white crow appeared from the 22nd of Rebia to the 28th of Djoumada, on which day the children caught and killed it.’ Elsewhere in the narratives of his voyage to Massina, one of his hosts gave him his daughter in marriage. He was fifty years of age at the time, and in possession of several other wives. Not content with imparting the event to posterity, he adds, ‘My union with Fatima was concluded on the twelfth day of Moharrem, 1645, but the marriage was not consummated until Friday the sixteenth.’ I believe he would have given us his washing-bills if the use of body linen had been familiar to the Sudanese. His book admirably reflects the life and mind of the Sudan of yesterday. One enjoys from its pages the delicate repasts offered by Homer, Herodotus, and Froissard, and it is for this reason I have called the _Tarik_ the _chef-d’œuvre_ of Sudanese literature.

I found and brought away from Timbuctoo other historical works composed at later date, upon the model of the _Tarik_. One of them is called the _Diwan el Moulouk, fi Salatin es Sudan_ (Divan of Kings, a book on the Sultans of the Sudan), and narrates the events occurring between 1656 and 1747; the name of the author is unknown. Another book, on the contrary, has no title, but is known to us by the name of its author, Mouley Rhassoun. He resumes the _Diwan_ from the last date given in its pages and carries it up to the year 1769, so that we are well instructed up to the beginning of the nineteenth century. Other documents and oral traditions permit us to reconstruct the order of dates and events, and, in its broad outlines at least, the whole of the Sudanese past is known to us.

Although these two books are precious for their historical value, they entirely lack the literary merits which charm us in the _Tarik_. Intellectual decadence has made rapid strides since the eighteenth century, and the author of the _Diwan_ states in his first pages:

‘The men of my generation have arrived at the point where their intellects possess nothing. As for the old men, those who know the deeds of their ancestors are few and far between, and those possessing any intelligence at all are equally rare. When I question them concerning what is passing in the town, they are incapable of making a response of any interest.’

His narrative reveals the fact that he himself was betrayed into the errors he deplores. His style is full of faults, the pages are encumbered with repetitions, and the interest of the narrative gradually declines. The work of Mouley Rhassoun is still more feeble, consisting entirely of dry records and obituary notices.

‘Why did they not write more books and abandon records?’ was the question I asked the marabuts at Timbuctoo. ‘We have no men among us clever enough to do so,’ they answered. ‘Nor can we devote ourselves exclusively to science; we cannot buy books nor travel to complete our learning in Cairo, Fez, or elsewhere, for to-day we are the poorest people in the country. Formerly the people noted the most uninteresting things; they counted the number of days on which rain fell in winter; they mentioned that such-and-such a person was going to marry so-and-so. For Ahmed Baba had taught the importance of the science of facts and dates.[18] When the town was rich and every one sought to please the marabuts, they were well clothed and fed, they could give themselves to meditation and read books and write them. But for the last hundred years there have been nothing but wars and ruin. We have only known peace since the arrival of the French. We marabuts have to run about right and left to procure a livelihood, the education of children brings us in so little. Sometimes we are asked to write talismans and to copy books, but that does not give us sufficient to live upon. Many are obliged to devote themselves to commerce; and, absorbed by the care of not dying of hunger, how can they find time to write?’

* * * * *

I have shown the town of yesterday, Timbuctoo the great, under all its aspects.

Let us now allow our imaginations to be carried back to the days of its splendour. Let us picture the caravans of Morocco, Tuat, and Tripoli travelling for weeks and months across that immensity of sands ‘where the very birds lose themselves.’ The sun blazes fiercely in the flaming sky, the skin cracks, and the lips are parched. All the water to be had is warm and impure, and even then cannot be procured in sufficient quantities. A scaly viper occasionally crosses the route, and at long intervals the swift flight of an antelope is seen.

For days and months nothing rejoices the eye save the deceitful vision of the mirage, until Taoudenni, the great halting-place, the city of salt, has been reached.

One morning three little black spots show upon the burning horizon. The camels cease to grumble, they roar; and, as the three minarets grow clearer, Timbuctoo displays her majestic form. Behold her gardens, her palm-trees, and her gleaming waters! The town is three times as large as it is to-day, the streets are fresh and blue under the shade of the great trees, and they seethe with the life of its fifty thousand inhabitants.

In place of the solitude, abandonment, and misery of to-day, it presents the traveller with a satiety of everything desirable. With abundance of water and shade, it represents the saving help of the word of God, the charm of the word of man, the wealth of gold and ivory, the sweetness of honey and a profusion of smiles.... I have been told that men went temporarily mad upon seeing it for the first time.

Can we not understand how it was that the men of Tripoli, Tunis, Algeria, and Fez, having experienced its pleasures for one day only, have celebrated the splendours of Timbuctoo to their last hour, and how it was that their narratives, reaching Europe, gave birth to the legend of the fabulous city?