Chapter XV: Europe and Timbuctoo

All who have studied the remarkable genius of Colbert proclaim his ideas to have been greatly in advance of his century. It will not surprise us, therefore, to find his name among the first of those who attempted to open the gates of Timbuctoo to Europe.

The great minister acquired a very clear apprehension of the value of the Sudan from a report made by André Bruc, governor of the African colonies, and he conceived the notion of reaching Timbuctoo by way of Senegal. This plan, which received the approbation of Louis XIV., was precisely that followed by Faidherbe forty years ago, continued by Borgnis-Desbordes and Archinard, and finally completed in the last days of 1894.

We shall see later on how Lieutenant Boiteux took possession of Timbuctoo in the name of France, and how the tricolour was hoisted in the town for the first time by one of his sailors. Now, if ever, we might say, ‘It was written,’--for the first European to see Timbuctoo was also a Frenchman and a sailor, Paul Imbert, who was born on the sands of Olonne. I must add that his journey thither was purely involuntary. He was shipwrecked on the coast of Morocco, captured by the Arabs, and sold as a slave to a Portuguese renegade in the service of the sultan. His master, sent on a mission by the Moorish government, took the old sailor with him to Timbuctoo in 1670. Paul Imbert contrived to send news of his misfortunes to Europe, but died in captivity before it was possible to effect his release.

The third name connected with Timbuctoo is that of Mungo Park. Starting from Gambia, he succeeded in reaching the Niger at Segu, and was the first European to see the great river of Western Africa (1795). He published a most attractive account of the Niger, which is doubled in value by the solid information of the writer. His book was the point of departure for numerous explorations into this portion of Africa in the early part of the present century, and is still well worth reading. The Sudan is shown at a relatively normal period, and the picture is drawn by an interesting and competent pen.

The giant river exercised the same fascination upon Mungo Park which was experienced by myself, and which I have attempted to describe, and he soon returned to it with the intention of descending the river to its mouth (1805). He was accompanied by forty Europeans--thirty-five English soldiers, four carpenters, and an artist named Scott. This little troop, considerably lessened in number by fever, reached the Niger at Bammaku. I found very vivid recollections of Mungo Park below this town. He had been well provided with merchandise, and had displayed a generosity in dealing with the people which had deeply impressed itself on their memories. They naturally do not speak of him by his real name, which could have no meaning for them, and would have been difficult to remember; but like all the early Europeans who ventured into those parts, he was given a picturesque sobriquet, and called _Bonciba-tigui_, ‘the man with the large beard’ (literally: _batigui_, owner; _bonci_, beard; _ba_, large).

The natives also spoke of him at Samba-Marcalla, a charming little town built under large and beautiful trees, upon the left bank of the Niger, between Nyamina and Segu. The traveller spent several days here, tempted doubtless by his warm reception and the blue shade in which the quiet life of its inhabitants was passed. In acknowledgment of their hospitality Park presented the mosque with a Chinese vase, with which to adorn the summit of its minaret, and this ornament was still to be seen in 1888. One day, the gunboats having dropped anchor before Samba-Marcalla, their commanders, MM. Hourst and Davout, induced the inhabitants to exchange the vase for another, and the traveller’s gift was brought to France and placed in the Colonial Office. Learning further that one of the companions of ‘the man with the great beard’ had died at Samba-Marcalla, our officers had the grave of the Englishman pointed out to them, and their gunners forged a fine iron cross, which marks the resting-place of the unknown to this day. It bears the following inscription:--

TO THE MEMORY
OF ONE OF THE COMPANIONS OF
MUNGO PARK
WHO WAS BURIED HERE
_The Niger Fleet. November 1888._

According to a tradition transmitted to the inhabitants of Samba-Marcalla, Mungo Park’s companions were at this time reduced to seven.

Permission to enter Segu being refused him, the explorer went on to Sansanding. He met with a better reception there, and was the guest of Kounta-Mamadi, the richest merchant of the town, and grandfather of the present chief, who told me that Park had been greatly liked by the inhabitants. He had sold them merchandise and made little presents to the children; a saw which had been given by him to his host has been carefully preserved by the family.

Having journeyed hitherto by land, Mungo Park embarked upon the Niger at Sansanding in a large, flat-bottomed boat he had had constructed; and from there, ignorant of which of the many possible routes he had taken to reach Timbuctoo, I found it difficult to trace him. He was spoken of at Kabara, but he had not been able to reach that port on account of the hostilities of the Touaregs, who attacked him at Koriouma.

Mungo Park was therefore obliged to turn his back upon Timbuctoo, and Barth found traces of him at Bamba, Bourroum, and Gao. The appearance of the white man with the great beard and his large boat has become a legend on the shores of the Eastern Niger, and the end of the courageous explorer is well known. His boat was smashed upon the rocks of the Boussa rapids, at a comparatively short distance from the mouth of the Niger, and the brave Scotsman and his four or five remaining companions were drowned.

* * * * *

The soldiers and considerable sums of money placed at Mungo Park’s disposal prove how much the Nigerian countries interested England at this time. She made repeated efforts to penetrate Western Africa between 1810 and 1825, the most remarkable being conducted by Major Laing, aide-de-camp to the governor of Sierra Leone. This young officer also succeeded in making his way to the Niger, reaching it at Falaba. He, too, was a Scotsman, as powerfully constituted and well informed as his compatriot, and was looked upon by England as a second Mungo Park. His government provided him with large resources, and the mission of attaining Timbuctoo was confided to him in 1825.

His first voyage having familiarised him with the negraic countries, Laing preferred to take the northern route in his second, and traverse the Arabian and Berber countries. Starting from Tripoli, he passed through Ghadames, Tuat, Oualata, and Arawan, was attacked in the desert by the Touaregs, and reached Timbuctoo in August 1828.

I have collected fresh details concerning his stay there and his death. Although they are somewhat at variance with the generally accepted account, I do not hesitate to vouch for them, as they came from an excellent source. They were communicated to me by the most learned man in Timbuctoo, the alamany, or religious chief of the town, and grand iman of the great mosque of Ghingaraber. He was an old man, bent with age and almost blind, but of still reliable intelligence and well versed in the traditions of the town. He had obtained his facts from his uncle, Alpha Saidou, who was grand kadi and judge of Timbuctoo at the time of the Scotsman’s stay there, and was therefore in a position to be well informed.

Laing, who was known under the name of _El Rais_, the chief (given him, doubtless, on account of his rank as major), presented himself as an envoy from the English government to the chief of the town, Osman-Alcaidi ben Alcaidi Boubakar. According to custom, the latter offered him one of his houses as a dwelling, which, thanks to the alamany, whose uncle Saidou had also lived in it, I was enabled to see. The family being extinct in the direct line, the house became, according to custom, the property of the chief of the town.

It is situated in a little square near the great market and the mosque of Ghingaraber, and is surrounded by the usual shabby, dilapidated houses and straw huts with straw enclosures. On one side of the square an oblong mound of masonry represents the tomb of some saint, or Oualiou. The house appears to have been one story high, and of good size, but I found it in the process of demolition.[19] The façade was destroyed, and the first floor, by falling in, had warned its inhabitants that it was time to begin repairs. The masons were clearing away the ruins, leaving the thick walls of the ground floor standing ready for rebuilding, and the square was encumbered with bricks drying in the sun.

The Touaregs having extorted a ransom, but not pillaged him, Laing arrived with considerable baggage, and was able to make the usual presents to the chief of the town. He explained that he had been sent by his government to see the commerce and life of the city, that the white people wished to make acquaintance with the inhabitants of countries unknown to them, and establish friendly relations which could only result in good to both sides. Such a task had often been confided to him before. The second day after his arrival he was to be seen exploring the town, taking notes, drawing great lines (plans?) upon paper, and questioning the passers-by.

The chief of the town entered into relations with him, and visited him pretty frequently; but the other inhabitants, great and small, maintained a marked reserve. His questions had excited great suspicion; and he seems to have committed the error of not taking all and sundry into his confidence, and elaborately explaining his presence and business to them. ‘He did not know how to gain the confidence of the people,’ the old alamany told me. ‘He did not talk to them and amuse them. If he had done so, he would have had friends in the town, and they would have warned him of what was being plotted against him. Now, every one is aware that you are neither soldier nor merchant, and we all know that you want to see everything and hear everything and read our books, not to do us harm, but to tell the white people the history of the blacks. Every one comes to you, your house is far from the fort, and you live alone with your servant. Well, if any one conspired against you, certainly I, or one of those who know you, would warn you.’

The people were afraid of Laing and his notes and questions, and the surname of _El Rais_ doubtless added to their fears. The unhappy man did nothing to offend or shock the inhabitants, and no one had any reproach to bring against him, but all unanimously agreed that the suspicion of his being a spy had finally roused the hostility of the people. This was evidently the real cause of his death, and not, as was supposed, the fact of his being a Christian.

Some days before his departure Laing determined to visit Kabara, and persisted in riding there after nightfall, in spite of the warnings of his host as to the insecurity of the road. This last imprudence seems to have been decisive. ‘He is undoubtedly a spy,’ thought the inhabitants, and, urged by the populace, the notables of the town planned the murder of the stranger. His host, the chief of the town, was charged with his arrest. Being asked by Laing (who had decided to return by Arawan) to procure him a guide, Osman-Alcaidi sent for the chief of the Berabichs, a Moorish tribe encamped in the neighbourhood. To this man, Sidi Mohammed Habeida (grandfather of the present chief), the Alcaidi confided the anxieties of the town, and requested him to dispose of the European, body and goods.

The witnesses are unanimously agreed upon this point, the Berabichs did not kill Laing upon their own initiative, nor because he was a Christian, but at the formal request of the chief of Timbuctoo. This new version is evidently the true one; for if in certain cases interest may compel them to disguise the truth, it would clearly have been to the interest of the natives, in this instance, to put all the responsibility of the murder upon the shoulders of the Berabichs, and not charge themselves with it.

Mohammed Habeida made no difficulty about accepting a part which did no violence to the pillaging instincts of his tribe, and Laing left Timbuctoo under his guidance. For two days they travelled together towards Arawan, and the unfortunate man was killed at dawn on the third day.

Laing’s visit and the circumstances accompanying it are still vividly impressed upon the memories of the inhabitants; for, at the instance of England I believe, the Sultan of Morocco made an inquiry at Timbuctoo concerning his death. At that time the authorities naturally did not care to assume the responsibility of the deed, and would certainly shift it on to the backs of the Berabichs. In this way the version which made Laing a victim of the fanaticism of the desert was accepted.

One of his last letters announced that he had collected numerous manuscripts on the subject of Timbuctoo, and these precious documents naturally occupied the mind of the scientists and explorers a good deal. René Caillié made inquiries concerning them, and reported that they had been dispersed among the inhabitants of the desert. Barth raised the question twenty-five years later, and was told that not one remained. Lenz, on the contrary, believes that the papers and effects are still preserved in Arawan. Since our installation in Timbuctoo, the military authorities have made several attempts to discover the fate of these letters from envoys sent by the chief of the Berabichs. M. Josse, the Arabian interpreter, was especially persevering, but in vain; the Berabichs insisted that nothing remained in their possession. For my part, I made the acquaintance, during my stay, of an agent of the Mossi, with whom I was at pains to be on excellent terms, and who rendered me many little services. One evening I sent for him, and, with air of great mystery, offered him a large sum of money if he would find the papers of _El Rais_ and bring them to me. I assured him that no one in the town, European or native, should know anything about it; but in spite of all my diplomacy, I was no more successful than the rest. Some time afterwards he assured me that the tribe possessed neither papers nor anything else belonging to the traveller. Knowing the keen distrust of these people, however, and the fear of punishment they still entertain (in spite of repeated assurances), and, knowing too, the great respect with which all written matter is regarded in these countries, I do not think all hope need be abandoned.

* * * * *

If the first explorer to reach Timbuctoo was an Englishman, the first to come back from it was a Frenchman--René Caillié, to wit. As was proved by the Grand Prix of 10,000 francs offered by the Geographical Society of Paris to the first visitor from Timbuctoo, the interest to Europe consisted in the return.

Behold the perversity of things, or, if you will, the ways of Providence. Mungo Park and Laing departed accompanied by the good wishes and encouragement of their countrymen, well provided with money, merchandise, and escort--and failed. Success was reserved for a humble and solitary man of ridiculously small means who had been contemptuously repulsed by the representatives of his country, and who had scarcely a friend to press his hand at parting.

‘I was born,’ says René Caillié, ‘in 1800 at Mauzé, in the department of the two Sèvres, of poor parents, whom I had the misfortune to lose in my childhood. I was apprenticed to a trade as soon as I could read and write, but it was not long before I wearied of it, thanks to the books of travel which I read in all my leisure moments. I borrowed geographical works; and the maps of Africa, in which I saw deserts and unknown regions marked, excited my keenest interest. Finally, the interest became a passion to which I sacrificed everything.’

He started for Senegal at the age of sixteen with a fortune of sixty francs in his pocket. Of the two vessels starting on the same day for the same port, he had the good luck to choose the one which arrived safely; the other, the _Medusa_, made a notable shipwreck.

He disembarked at St. Louis (1816), where nothing was being talked of but the English expeditions into the interior. He made an attempt to join one of these, but a French officer dissuaded him and sent him to Guadeloupe, where he obtained a small employment which kept him at Pointe à Pitre for six months. The narratives of Mungo Park having fallen into his hands, he returned to Senegal at the end of that time, more absorbed in Africa than ever.

This brings us to the year 1818, and the English have in no wise relaxed their efforts to penetrate the interior. The expedition of Major Grey was just succeeding to that of Majors Peddie and Campbell, and René Caillié attached himself to it ‘without appointment or engagement of any kind,’ happy in only being allowed to start. The Europeans were all mounted, but he had to make the journey on foot; and if he did not share the comforts of his companions, he certainly had his part of the dangers and sickness, for on his return he was obliged to go back to France to recruit his health.

These hardships proved no discouragement, however, and he returned to Senegal in a small sloop in 1824. He entered into trade upon his arrival, and his business prospered; but this was not what he had come for. It was not a fortune that he wanted; as he says himself, ‘Timbuctoo had become the one object of my thoughts, the aim of all my efforts, and I was determined to reach it or die in the attempt.’

He neglected nothing to ensure the success of this great enterprise. Realising that a knowledge of Arabic and the forms of the Mohammedan religion was essential, he submitted to a second and severer trial. Leaving his business, and attiring himself in Moorish dress, he went to the Braknas Moors with the request that he might live with their tribe and be converted to Islamism. He suffered many annoyances and much ill-treatment, but he learned to talk, read, and write Arabic, and was initiated into the mysteries of the Koran and the Mussulman prayers. He then returned to St. Louis to find the means of putting into execution his plan of reaching Timbuctoo and travelling across Africa to Egypt, under the guise of a merchant and pilgrim to Mecca.

His real hardships were to begin now; for, instead of being encouraged in his purpose and congratulated upon the task he had achieved, he was received with cold sarcasm at St. Louis. Instead of the 6000 francs he asked for to buy the necessary merchandise, the governor of Senegal allowed him soldier’s rations that he might not die of hunger, and found him employment with a salary of fifty francs a month. ‘The fatigue and privations I endured had perhaps entitled me to expect something better,’ is his sole comment.

A new governor, Baron Roger, arriving in Senegal, Caillié’s hopes revived, and for the second time he related his sojourn among the Moors and explained his plans. This is how he tells the story of his attempt:--

‘M. Roger pooh-poohed my project, and refused me any pecuniary aid. This would have been a thunderbolt to any one else, but it only had the effect of more deeply rooting my determination. I had the courage to return to the charge, and he was then good enough to promise me a certain sum upon my return from Timbuctoo.... Upon my return from Timbuctoo! And if I died on the way? This idea, terrible to a man who would leave a much-loved sister without help or resources, determined my reply. I refused every arrangement, deciding that if I died, I would at least leave the friend of my childhood one incontestable possession--the merit of having done everything by myself.’

While France refused him 6000 francs, England was spending eighteen million francs in attempting to penetrate from the western coast of Africa. Caillié now turned to the English colony of Sierra Leone, and at once aroused the interest of the governor, General Charles Turner. He obtained, instead of the ridiculous employment offered to him by a Frenchman, the direction of an indigo factory and a salary of 3600 francs. He would probably have succeeded in getting the 6000 francs for his voyage, but the governor objected--very reasonably from an Englishman’s point of view--that Major Laing was already _en route_ for Timbuctoo, and he could not have a hand in depriving him of the glory of being there first.

Caillié succeeded in saving 2000 francs, however, and was no longer affected by the refusal. Having resumed the Moorish costume, he converted his savings into merchandise, and set out upon his journey (1827).

His stock of goods being too small to permit of his giving himself out to be a trader, as he had first intended, he invented a new pretext. ‘Born in Egypt,’ he told every one, ‘I was taken as a child and made to serve in the French army, which was then in Egypt. I was brought as a slave to France, and my master took me with him to Senegal to assist him in his business. He was so pleased with my services that he gave me my liberty, and now that I am free to go where I will, I naturally desire to return to Egypt to find my parents, and resume the Mussulman religion.’ Thanks to his knowledge of Arabic and the prayers of the Mussulman cult, the fable of his origin was everywhere accepted, and his journey was made comparatively easy. He entered Timbuctoo on the 20th of April 1828, having passed by the Foota Jallon, reached the Niger at Kankan, traversed the Bambara kingdom of Segu, and paused at Jenne by the way.

* * * * *

As Caillié was taken for the man he pretended to be, I found it exceedingly difficult to follow his track. All inquiries at Jenne were fruitless, and I feared they would be equally so at Timbuctoo, for poor Arabian travellers arrive there all the year round, and he had only stayed fourteen days in the city. The name of his host, however, Sidi Abdallah Chabir, one of the most important merchants of his time, was perfectly well remembered. One of his wives had died only within the last few years, and his son but shortly before my arrival. I saw the house in which Caillié had lodged, and the old alamany revived some memories of the explorer himself.

The latter had not failed to impart the history of his Egyptian origin, his misfortunes, and his slavery in France, and I was thus enabled to trace him. The old alamany repeated to me (with some variations) the fable mentioned above as concerning a traveller lodged by Sidi Abdallah. The worthy merchant, an Arab fond of remarkable stories, had been greatly struck by this tale, and, being a pious man into the bargain, he had been deeply touched by the religious zeal of the young Egyptian. From all this Sidi Abdallah had concocted a narrative which he delighted to impart to his friends, and which he accompanied by improving reflections on the tenacity of the Mussulman faith. The history was so often repeated in Timbuctoo that the Grand Kadi, Alpha Saidou, noted it down as one of the curious episodes of his time. He edited his history under the direction of Sidi Abdallah, and blackened four sheets of paper with it. Although the old alamany had inherited a portion of his uncle’s books and papers, this curious manuscript was not among them, he assured me. I requested him to make inquiries of the other inheritors of the kadi, and was then told that the papers had been burnt in a recent fire. This explanation does not appear to merit any great amount of belief, and one day somebody will doubtless be more fortunate than myself. The history was probably embellished with imprecations on the Christians, and they were therefore not over anxious to communicate it to me.

The house pointed out to me as having been lived in by the Egyptian was situated near the market, and in the same street as the one Laing had occupied. His dwelling, more fortunate than Laing’s, is still standing in a very good state of preservation--in the interior, be it understood. It is a large house, plainly indicating the importance of the man who showed the poor traveller such gracious hospitality. Sidi Abdallah did not live in it himself, but used it as a warehouse. It is now occupied by one of the principal merchants of Timbuctoo, a Moor, like Sidi Abdallah, and he too has converted it into a shop. I, therefore, saw the dwelling under much the same aspect it must have worn to René Caillié.

I found, surrounding the two spacious courts, ‘the little, long, narrow and windowless rooms, serving indifferently as shop or bedroom,’ in one of which René Caillié lodged, and in which ‘he suffocated day and night.’ The interior was encumbered with packages and sacks of all kinds, principally bales of ostrich feathers and ivory. Lances thrust into the floor showed that the men of the Desert occupied those suffocating rooms at the moment. The real proprietor of the house, Mohammed El Bakir, had just received his annual caravan from Tendouf, a Moorish town on the borders of the Sahara. His relations had great troops of camels over there, and they were enabled to continue their commerce in spite of the insecurity of the desert routes, for they belonged to a family of marabuts possessing great influence in the Sahara. I was on excellent terms with Mohammed El Bakir, and he it was who furnished me with some notion of the present state of the commerce of Timbuctoo. He was acquainted with Europeans, having traded with them at Mogador, where it was his custom to buy large quantities of our produce. I was surprised, nevertheless, when he asked me for news of Paris (he pronounced it Parisse). He said he had long known the name of the town, for the rich Moorish Jew who bought his ostrich plumes lived there. His curiosity had been excited by the marvels described to him by a Moor who had visited the city during the exhibition, and he wished to know if he had not been the dupe of a too lively imagination. I reassured him, of course, and told him the true history of René Caillié. To risk one’s life and sacrifice one’s interests for the simple satisfaction of seeing a new town or country was incomprehensible to him, but he understood, nevertheless, that in our eyes his house was the most interesting thing in Timbuctoo, and I profited by that to advise him to keep it in very particular repair.

* * * * *

Whether it was the considerable sacrifices made by the English Government for Laing, or whether it was owing to the great confidence the public had in this brilliant officer, I do not know, but the English have always expressed great contempt for René Caillié’s success. Their disdain developed into injustice, and they disputed his journey, his book, and his sojourn in Timbuctoo, professing themselves completely edified when, twenty-five years later, the truth of Caillié’s statements was confirmed by a German.

The English Government made a fresh effort to reach the Sudan in 1850. Richardson was equipped at Tripoli with the same munificence that had been allowed to Mungo Park and Laing, and intrusted with the mission of reaching Lake Chad. At the request of Prussia, two Germans were added to the party, one of whom was Doctor Barth.

All his companions having died one after the other, Barth was left to fulfil the mission alone. After exploring the basin of Lake Chad, and discovering the Benue, he pursued the Bournou and Sokoto route, passed Say, crossed the valley of the Niger from south to north, and arrived at Timbuctoo on August 29th, 1853.

His journey was greatly facilitated by his position as English ambassador, and by the rich presents with which he was enabled to sustain the part. His position at Timbuctoo, however, was extremely critical. There are people still living in the city who remember seeing Barth, or rather Abdel Kerim (‘the servant of the Lord’), as he called himself, and I gathered some interesting details from them.

The explorer had counted upon staying at Timbuctoo with a sheikh named El Backay, whose importance had been boasted of and greatly exaggerated to him, and which he in turn exaggerated to Europe. The Backays belonged to the tribe of Kountas. These Berbers, strongly infused with negro blood, were, two centuries ago, still settled to the south of Timbuctoo, in the neighbourhood of Kairwan. From there they emigrated to the desert, spread along the route from Tunis to the Sudan, and settled in Saharian Adrar, a rocky plateau to the north-east of Timbuctoo, near the town of Mabruk. They have since drawn nearer the Niger, and are now to be found in the valley east of Timbuctoo, on both sides of the river.

The Backays were a family of marabuts and scholars, not warriors, and none of them ever had the ‘opportunity of mounting the throne,’ as Barth has affirmed. They were content to mount the pulpit, and their learning and wisdom have been famous in the desert for over a hundred years. The first to be mentioned in the history of Timbuctoo was Sidi Moktar el Kabir, a man pious to asceticism, in whose eyes smoking was an impurity. He wrote a book entitled _Taraïfa Koubra_ (The Great Taraïfa), which is still in the possession of the Kountas, and would be a desirable book to procure, for it contains several historical notices, I am told.

The fame of his wisdom was the cause of his being called to Timbuctoo in the early part of the present century. The last of the Roumas were living on exceedingly bad terms with the Touaregs, and Sidi Moktar, on being invited to adjust their disputes, settled the tribute to be paid to the veiled men, and the terms to be observed by them in return. He acted as mediator in other circumstances, and his fame and the number of his pupils steadily increased. On his death (1811) every one said, ‘He was a saint’; a little chapel was built upon his grave, and pilgrimages were made to his tomb, which still stands on the dunes east of Timbuctoo.

His son, Sidi Mohammed, maintained the family reputation, and died in 1826, leaving several children, the eldest of whom was called Sidi Moktar. The latter also played the part of peacemaker which had been so well sustained by his grandfather. When the Foulbes took possession of Timbuctoo, the populace appealed to him to intercede for them with Cheikou Ahmadou. He succeeded in satisfying both parties so well that the town offered him a large dwelling, the Foulbe king overwhelmed him with gifts and attentions, and he definitely quitted Adrar for Timbuctoo. He was consulted in all disputes between Moors and Touaregs, all controversies between the town and its nomadic neighbours were submitted to his judgment, and he became the recognised arbitrator of these countries. He had no public function, and filled no official post, but was merely a great marabut, enjoying universal consideration, receiving numerous presents from pious people, giving excellent lectures, and followed by many pupils from the Sudan and desert. He, too, was a man of the pen, and composed a history of the Kounta Touaregs and other desert tribes, which he called the _Taraïfa Sochora_, or Little Taraïfa.

On his death in 1847, his son Ahmadi, the child of a slave, succeeded to this honourable and lucrative post, but was ousted by his uncle. The disputes between the two rivals irritated the Foulbe king, who was full of reverence for the defunct, and greatly diminished the prestige of the family in Timbuctoo. Now, the ambitious uncle was none other than Sheik El Backay, who, having finally got the better of his nephew, endeavoured to restore the family reputation and make himself famous by travelling in the neighbouring countries. He was sojourning in Gundam when the explorer reached Timbuctoo in 1853.

Barth was evidently under the impression that El Backay occupied some commanding position in Timbuctoo. This is the only possible explanation of the attitude he adopted upon his arrival, and his singular want of tact which led to so many disagreeables. Contrary to custom, he visited neither the chief of the town nor the authorities, but contented himself with settling in one of the sheik’s houses and awaiting his return there. The town was offended by this want of respect, and so much hostility was displayed that the European was warned not to venture out. This state of affairs lasted a month, and all Barth saw of Timbuctoo was the view of the town he enjoyed from the roof of his house.

Instead of improving, the situation became more critical with the return of El Backay. In 1853 Timbuctoo formed, as we know, a part of the Foulbe empire, and the local authorities had hastened to send a message to Hamdallai, the residence of Ahmadou Ahmadou, to inform him of the arrival of the traveller. Greatly affronted that an ambassador should go to Timbuctoo without offering him homage or the customary presents, without asking permission to enter one of his towns, nor even informing him of his presence, the king sent an order that the stranger should be taken and brought to him. The arrival of this command, with a troop of soldiery charged to execute it, coincided, happily for Barth, with the return of the sheik.

El Backay, greatly flattered by receiving an ambassador, seeing all the lost prestige he could recover, and delighted to play a trick upon the government which had crossed his ambition, formally and very courageously took Barth under his protection. ‘The stranger is in my hand. You must cut it off before you can take him,’ was the haughty response he made to the envoys. The whole of Timbuctoo was confounded by this incident. The authorities made many vain attempts to induce El Backay to reconsider his decision, and it was finally determined to attack protector and protected, and carry away the latter by force. The two then quitted the town together, and took refuge in a neighbouring camp. Backay was compelled to call the worst enemies of the city to his assistance, and it was to the Touaregs that Barth owed his escape from the fate of Laing and his safe return to Europe.

From the day of his arrival to the hour of his departure, the explorer lived in Timbuctoo like a prisoner. He was confined to one house with his own and his host’s servants perpetually on guard. He was unable to explore the town or even take an hour’s walk in its streets, and all he saw of them were the few he passed through as, surrounded by an escort, he left the city to take refuge in the desert from the hostility of the populace. He only knew Timbuctoo through the eyes of his servants and other people of that class, and that is why this portion of his book is so deceptive and, in spite of its length, vague and empty. It consists of copious details of his anxieties, his hopes and fears for his life; and its few interesting passages are swamped in an ocean of tiresome details, according to the method of German scholars. Instead of showing us some new aspect of the Mysterious City, he rails at his servants like a peevish housewife and entertains us again and again with the health of his camels. René Caillié saw, questioned, and observed an astonishing amount during his fourteen days’ stay in Timbuctoo, and gathered an incomparably richer harvest than did Barth in his sojourn of a month. On comparing the two accounts, one sees that Barth’s utterances are mere amplifications of the facts acquired by his predecessor.

After this we are somewhat surprised to see Barth, from his height of Doctor, treating René Caillié as an ‘altogether incapable man’;[20] and surprise turns to stupefaction when he assumes that ‘no one has been as well able as himself to represent the town and its inhabitants in their true aspect.’[21] It is another example of the old saying, that one may have great learning and little wit. René Caillié has given us far more than we could expect from a man who only knew how to read and write, a poor fellow who had not enough to eat most of his days, and was tormented by scurvy; while Barth on the contrary did not, in Timbuctoo at least, fulfil the promise of his great reputation.

He had his excuses however; circumstances prevented his seeing more of the town than its roofs, and deprived him of any knowledge of its inhabitants. Public feeling was against him. El Backay was in revolt against the authorities of the town and its Foulbe king, and both he and his guest were avoided by the people. Barth lived in the society of a stranger sheik and his brothers, the chiefs of the Touaregs, Foulbes, Berabichs, and other people of the desert, who were equally strangers to the town. This explains how it was that he was unable to procure any of the literary works of the city, and remained ignorant of the real author of the Tarik in a town in which it was known to all. He had to be content with extracts, hastily copied from an example at Gando, from which he composed his historical chapter (the only new thing in his book); and he so completely confuses the history of the Songhoi with that of Timbuctoo that, in his hands, the amusing and picturesque Chronicle of the Sudan becomes something unutterably flat and tiresome. We surely had a right to expect something better from the accredited scholar who was so exacting towards one who had been educated in an elementary school.

* * * * *

We have seen that El Backay’s house to-day is a mere heap of ruins; this is not the case, however, with the one next door, which his hospitality offered to Barth. This dwelling remains exactly as it was described by the explorer, and it is to be hoped that it will be as carefully preserved as that of René Caillié. Timbuctoo has none too many relics of the Europeans, and, everything considered, there is no need to look harshly on the memory of Barth. His surly disposition and his infatuation must have caused him disagreeables enough in his lifetime, and Europeans at Timbuctoo remember with gratitude that he was the first to follow the course of the eastern Niger to Say, and to clear up the vast geographical regions surrounding Lake Chad.

I also found traces of Barth in his character of ambassador. On his return to Europe he set before the English a scheme of penetration in the direction of Timbuctoo which was based upon an exaggerated notion of the authority of El Backay. The shorter routes, those of Algeria and Senegal, being in the possession of France, he advocated reaching the city by way of the Niger, starting from its mouth. He laid great stress upon the value of El Backay’s support to an English enterprise, a view which was the more readily accepted by the Government as the progress France was making in Southern Algeria was causing them much anxiety.

The capture of Timbuctoo gave some curious documents into our hands. They have not been edited, and we give them in their entirety, for they display English plans and methods without any need of commentary.