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TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.

50
55
15
10
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OCEAN
Aberdeen
10
15
20
NORWAY
Skagerrack
SWEDEN
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Edinburgh
S E A
Newcastle
Bishops Hartlepool
Southport
Ind
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LONDON
B.Than
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DENMARK COPENHAGEN
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AMSTERDAM
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Hamburg
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R.Weser
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Milan
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TRIA
BERN
SWITZERLAND 1
R.Prave
50
ATLANTIC
45
C.Ortegal
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40
335
Oporto
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PORTUGAL
USSON
Vincent
Bordeaux
Valladolid
Douro R
R.Tag
Guadiana R
Toulouse
Saragossa
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MADRIEN
MADRID
Valencia off
R.Xucar
Selle Cartagenas
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Str. of Gibraltar
Tangier
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Gulf of
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Barcelona
Balearic Is
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45
ADRIATIC SEA
Marseilles Genoa
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Florence
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CORSICA
Ajaccio
ROME
Stof Bonifacio
Naples
SARDINIA
Cagliari
Minerea
Magarca
C.Spartivento
MEDITERRANEAN
SANevada
braltar
30
30
MORO
Morocco
Atlas Mountains
C
Gata
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Oran
Algiers
W.Shelen
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Catania
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Tahadia
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The Lesser Syrtis
Gabes Dierbal.
Durat
Jaletta
Malta
E
Tripoli
Ain Zhara
TRIPOLI
Ssinaun
Ghadames
Derdsh
40
35
The
Greater
Syrtis
Bondshem
Sokna
30
25
ROUTE OF
A.A.BODDY
in 1883.
Outward Journey
Homewardſ
Geographical Miles
8 50 100
200
English Miles
660 100
200
5 Longitude West
0
Longitude East 5
10
London; Kegan Paul, Trench, & Co.
Mursuko
25
15
EWeller.
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY:
SCENES IN MUHAMMEDAN AFRICA.
BY
ALEXANDER A. BODDY.
=
ILLUSTRATED BY A. F. JACASSEY.
LONDON:
KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH & CO., I, PATERNOSTER SQUARE.
1885.
DT.
269
• K3
367
(The rights of translation and of reproduction
are reserved.)
529577-424
TO MY MOTHER.
י
PREFACE.
O GENTLE AND RESPECTED READER,
It is reported of the Prophet Muhammed,
that on a certain night he leapt upon the winged
steed Al Borac, which stood neighing by the awful
Bayt Allah of Mecca, and that thereupon they flew
together over Arabia and Sinai until they arrived at
El Kûds, the earlier Kibleh of Islam. Here Muham-
med enstabled Al Borac in the Holy Rock, and
mounting the Ladder of Light, he passed through the
Seven Heavens, until he attained to the Lote Tree,
beyond which there is no passing. Very noteworthy
Suras in his "Most Perspicuous Explication" were
composed after the Lailat-al-Miraj.
In later times an Imaum of another Faith mounts
a chariot, drawn by a span of four fiery steeds, and
beneath a burning sun he hasteth across the Sahel,
viii
PREFACE.
towards the Mughreb, and standeth within the sacred
Mihrab of Okhbah's Sanctuary. He does not ascend
to the Seventh Heaven, he only gains the summit
of the great Minar of Kairwân; but journeying
Northwards to the Land of his Fathers, he humbly
imitates A Borac's rider, and ofttimes adding to
his own the thoughts of those who are more wise,
he doth pen Suras wherein the curious may read
of sights and sounds which appertain to the Dar-ul-
Islam.
•
He greeteth thee, O Gentle and Respected Reader,
and craveth thy gracious indulgence, saluting thee as
he hath been learned in those lands (his Hand first
touching Lips and Forehead and Breast), with the
peaceable benison
""
SALAAM ALICÛM."
Month of El Dulkaada,
In the Year of the Flight 1301.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
THE MECCA OF THE WEST.
Kairwân at the British Association -The B.A. at Southport-A
glimpse at the Sacred City-Its influence in Europe-Its
founder-Okhbah and the snakes-Mecca's fall to be Kair-
wân's rise-Successful and unsuccessful visitors--Sir G.
Temple-Marquess of Waterford-Dr. Tristram-Edward
Rae-Lord Bective-The French army-A Christian Imaum
CHAPTER II.
BY OCEAN AND SEA.
A commotion on the ocean-Complimentary boatswain-Captain
Brown-Martin Luther, the steward-Across the bay-The
Spanish peninsula-Corunna-Cape St. Vincent-Africa-—
Tangiers-Old Gib.-The Sierra Nevada-Turtle-mocking
-Cape Agate-Trinity Sunday-Ras Sebbah Rous-Galita
and Galitona-Cape Bon-Pantellaria-Moonlight musings
CHAPTER III.
EL FIOR' DEL MONDO.
Elementary geography-Gozo and the Gozitans-Arabic and
Maltese-Island of Malta-Cala di San Paolo-The place
where two seas meet-St. Paul's shipwreck-The grand
harbour of Valetta-H.M.S. Inflexible-Good-bye to the
Glenochil-Dunsford's Hotel - Mr. Clophan Floriana
Marketing-Off to Barbary-On board the Ville de Rome—
Filfla as a target Our doctor in danger-The vice-consul of
Tripoli
...
PAGE
ΙΟ
19
I
X
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER IV.
TARABOLOS GHARB.
Approaching an African sea-port-Why called Tripoli-Pass the
Turkish Douane-An English face-Quadrifrontal arch-
Camel campanology-Yellow Moors and Blackamoors-
Scenes in bazaar-Lieutenant Nedjih Beki-An awful dream
-More awful awakening—A marriage
CHAPTER V.
...
THE CHIEF MOSQUE OF TRIPOLI.
...
PAGE
28
...
Muhammedan prejudices-Not easily overcome-Mosque of
Gordji-Interior-The Mihrab—The Kibleh of Islam—The
Membar-Ascend the Minar-The Adzân or cry of the Mued-
din-Bird's-eye view of Tripoli-Backsheesh
CHAPTER VI.
THE ESPARTO MARKET.
...
The Souk-el-Halfa-Camel's vocal organs-Riding a djmil—
Rising superior-The ship of the desert-Mal-de-mer—
Sorting esparto-Coloured ladies and gentlemen-Fifty-seven
okes-El Ghrad-Cameline trot-Grateful Bedouin
CHAPTER VII.
WHITE FRIENDS AND BLACK.
The Maltese-British subjects-Our consulate at Tripoli-The
French consul-Who is to have Tripoli? — Mysterious
Italians-Walter Grace-Abdullah el Khartoumi-History
of Miss Tinne-Her travels in Central Africa-Her tragic
end-A visit to the home of Frederic-Parade of Turkish
troops-Gratitude to the Sultan-Oriental band
CHAPTER VIII.
...
EL SCUK EL DJAMA (THE FRIDAY FAIR).
40
47
...
53
The Tuesday fair and the Friday fair-Off to Am Roos-Youth-
ful piety-Fiery steed-Barb and djmil in collision—The
Mesheyan oasis-Baracans and how to use them—The fair-
CONTENTS.
xi
Haggling - Blacksmiths
Bellows Pepper — Sneezes—
Mishmash-Camelette-Sheep-slaughter-Native music-
Hath not charms-Am Roos-Arab interior—Legmi—Its
awful effects...
PAGE
69
CHAPTER IX.
WITHIN AND WITHOUT THE WALLS OF TRIPOLI.
Infant schools-High school for Moors-Switches-Mosques—
Tunisian refugees-Moslem pictures-Rakaats-Ablutions-
Dragoot the Corsair—Kuss-kuss-60-Arab Jews-Synagogues
—Blood of Christian—The walls of Tripoli-View near light-
house-Outside the walls-A beer—An odd trio-The ox and
two asses-Extra-mural fair-Money changing-The orange-
blossom and mothers-in-law-Harêms
CHAPTER X.
IN THE SAHARA.
A cavalcade-The steed of the Prophet-Al Borac's trappings—
His voice-Through the Mesheyah-The desert-Its colour-
Bedouin and Bindiggah—Hubz—Ain Zhara-Up a Nuklah
-Palmam qui meruit ferat-Trot to Tripoli—Al Borâc's
last
...
...
82
96
CHAPTER XI.
VISIT TO THE PASHA OF TRIPOLI AND TO THE BLACK VILLAGE.
A dish of svinge-H.E.. Achmet Rassim Pasha-The nuklah
again-Story of Moslem tree-felling-Marriage and prudence
-The Pasha and the murderers-Visit to negro village-
Beehives-Black babies-Ethiopian salutation-Regrets and
dreams
107
CHAPTER XII.
A SUNDAY IN TRIPOLI.
Sunday observance-Three sabbaths-English service-Baptisms
Florence Mary and Macdonald Nugent-The upper
room-The Eleven-Christianity and Muhammedanism-
Father Angelo-Madame Gagliuffi-Sunday thoughts
116
xii
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE LESSER SYRTIS.
The last of Tripoli-Greater and Lesser Syrtis-Acts xxvii. 17
-Arab passengers on Abd-el-Kadr-Lotophagitis-Lotos-
eaters-Why melancholy-Homt-es-Souk-Bony pyramid
-Ghabes-Saharan canal - French army chaplain-Père
Hyacinthe―The Salvation Army
CHAPTER XIV.
THE CITY OF CUCUMBERS.
Es Fakouse-"Sfax facts"-Country seats-Cucumbers-Bom-
bardment-Mr. Leadbitter-Olive-crushing-Arab funeral—
Bakery-Cisterns-Abattoirs- Bazaars Mosques-Three
old Moors-El Hammam · Abdul Moulir's house
PAGE
123
text - Ride among
133
Shaôushes - Cadi- Sponges
Cadi― Sponges - Koran text
Koran
gardens-Mirage
CHAPTER XV.
MAHHDIA MONASTIR, AND SUSA.
A Kairwân port-Oil on troubled waters-Cape Afrikia-A
Mahdi here-Monastir and the Monastiri-Susa and black-
eyed Susans-Sensible straw hats-Sunset off Susa-Musical
marines-The man in the hammock
CHAPTER XVI.
ACROSS THE SAHEL TO KAIRWÂN.
A farewell dinner-Off to Kairwân-Obstructionists-Last view
of Mediterranean-Es Sahel-Francesco Bonichi-Moureddin
-Berbers-Waggons-Sheep and goats-Steppes and Sahel
-Kairwân and El Kûds-Tramways-First view of the Holy
City - Camel dentistry-Well near Kairwân Snails
Tamarisks-Cicalas-Gloomy Kairwân-Camel dissection-
Locanda-View from lattice-Kairwani concert
144
151
CONTENTS.
xiii
CHAPTER XVII.
THE HOLIEST SPOT IN AFRICA.
A cry in the night-Mueddin-roar-Inconsiderate Arabs-Enter
the Holy City-The Great Mosque-Quadrangle-Roman
inscription-The Minar-Adzan in English-View over
Kairwân-The "Don't-know mountains-The Holy of
Holies-Pillar curse and pillar test-The Mihrab-The
Membar-Roman spoils-Okhbah's dream
""
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE KAIRWÂNIS AT HOME.
...
...
An aguz―Imprecations-Hats and saddles-Cruelty to horses-
Skin bazaar-Goats' horns - Buying carpet - Hadadi
Thunderstorm-African solicitor
solicitor and English-Barbary
barbers-Fez and Sheshya-Flies at lunch-Flocks and herds
-The Renegade of Kairwân-Monk and Moslem-M. Soulie
in Figaro The Mahdi and Kairwân
CHAPTER XIX.
...
ENCOMPASSING THE CITY.
...
How to spell Kairwân-The City of Victory-Thermometer,
140 Fahrenheit-Dying camel-Booma-Gate of Peaches or
Greengages-French camp-The Mueddin with my flag-
The Mahdi again—Abd-el-Kader el Ghelani-The Kasla
or Keshla Suburb Jibliyeh-The Zaouia Tidjania-Mosque
of the Olive Tree-A Khaukh-Suburb Kabliyeh-A
shrunken city-Sketching the Great Mosque-The sacred
well and the greyhound Baruti
CHAPTER XX.
SAINTLY RESTING-PLACES.
...
...
Three hairs from Muhammed's beard-Tomb of the Companion
-Fanaticism—The hours of prayer-Beni Yssou-Son of a
gun—The anchors of Noah's ark-Reduction of Sebastopol
by Kairwân muzzle-loaders-Sacred swords-Sunday in
Kairwân-Worshippers in the Great Mosque
PAGE
166
183
198
210
-
xiv
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXI.
IN BEDOUIN-LAND.
Farewell to Kairwân-Drive through the Sacred City-Out on
the desert plains-The mirage-A well at last-Bedouins
and backsheesh-Dr. Tristram's experiences in Tunisia-
Supper with the Waregrans-Bedouin hospitality and insect
life-El Menarah-Beer-el-Buwita
...
PAGK
220
CHAPTER XXII.
A NIGHT IN A KHAN.
The African traveller at Bir-el-Buwita - Fellow-travellers
Bedouin camp fire-Insect horrors-A British subject-En
route to Tunis-Barley harvest-El Khwin-Kroumbalia—
Hammam el Enf-Thascius Cyprianus-A Simoon-The
fire-horse-Camel dumpling-Farewell to Bedouin-land
CHAPTER XXIII.
TUNIS, CARTHAGE, AND BIZERTA.
Morals at Tunis-Scene from hotel windows-The bazaars-
Story-tellers-Jew children at school-Serpent-charmers-
Author of "" Home, sweet home"-To Carthage by rail
-The lost slippers-On the Byrsa-Gulf of Carthage-
Æneas-The Tyrians-Hasdrubal-Perpetua and Felicitas-
St. Cyprian-St. Augustine-Bizerta-Jacassey
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE HOME OF AUGUSTINE.
...
233
...
243
Algeria-Al Kalah-Bonah-Ubba-Broken cisterns-Statue of
St. Augustine-His "Confessions"-Thagaste-Monica—
Carthage-Milan-The great Bishop of Hippo Regius-His
life and death-A swim-Fishing boats-A rude picture—
Our drive-Farewell to Africa-Sardinia-Straits of Bonifacio
Corsica-Ajaccio-Napoleon-Beaune-Snores-Rhone
-Musical mastication-Across La Manche-Westminster
Abbey
259
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
ROUTE MAP
To face title
(Drawu by A. F. Jacassey.)
PAGE
SCENE IN BAZAAR. THE STORY TELLER ...
...
To face
34
AN ARAB INTERIOR
79
ON THE SAHEL. SIDI EL HANI IN THE DISTANCE
160
MUHAMMED
173
...
STRAW HAT OF THE DJERÎD
184
:
BEDOUIN
ORIENTAL CONCERT
...
:
""
230
246
FELLOW-PASSENGERS ON THE "VILLE D'ORAN"
...
267
(The scene stamped upon the cover is from a sketch of the
Bab-el-Djûlladîn made by the Author at Kairwân.)
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
CHAPTER I.
THE MECCA OF THE WEST.
Kairwân at the British Association-The B.A. at Southport-
A glimpse at the Sacred City—Its influence in Europe-
Its founder-Okhbah and the snakes-Mecca's fall to be
Kairwân's rise-Successful and unsuccessful visitors -
Sir G. Temple-Marquess of Waterford-Dr. Tristram-
Edward Rae-Lord Bective - The French army — A
army-A
Christian Imaum.
"He that journeyeth seven times unto Käyrawan the
Holy is as he that kisseth the Kaaba of Mecca."*-Kairwani
tradition.
MEMBERS of the British Association will remember
a most interesting paper which was read in Section E
on the history of the Sacred City of Africa, Kairwân
the Holy, last year by the author of "The Country
of the Moors." Some perhaps will recollect the
A previous traveller, who entered Kairwân when a sealed
city, finds that his servant and himself have acquired the right
to regard themselves as '143 of an Hadji each, "which circum-
stance," he adds, "affords us a certain satisfaction."
B
2
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
chairman (Dr. Tristram) afterwards calling upon the
writer of these present sketches to speak of his
journey to that Sacred City, from which he had more
recently returned.
Since the meeting in Southport he has completed
the revision of his journal, and now offers to the
reader some of his experiences in the Pashalik of
Tripoli and the Beylik of Tunisia.
An important portion of these sketches is devoted
to Tarabolos Gharb-Tripoli in the West-for little
has been written in late years of this fascinating
neighbourhood; the subject of the "Sanctuary of the
Moors" is, however, especially dwelt upon, as to which
now a few preliminary words.
About one hundred and twenty miles due south
from the ruins of Carthage stand the white crenellated
walls of this once mysterious city, "the holiest spot in
Muhammedan Africa," M'dint el Kairwân el Mahrota
-Kairwân the well-guarded.
At the foot of the Ousselat Mountains, it rises
from the desert-like plain all quivering with heat,
and dotted with stunted tamarisks, mosques and
colleges, Djamas, Záouias, and Medressas, all white
and blazing, o'ertopped by the huge square Minar of
the Djâma 'l Kebir.
Of its appearance, more hereafter; but first a few
words on the history of Kairwân.*
* A most exhaustive history of Kairwân is to be found in
"The Country of the Moors," pp. 246–267.
SURVEY OF ITS HISTORY.
3
From the foundation of this city, some forty years
after the Hedjra or "Flight" (that is, the escape of
Muhammed * from Mecca to Medina, from which all
Moslems reckon their dates), Kairwân has ever been
a sacred city, within whose gates no Unbeliever,
whether Christian, Jew, or idolater, might enter.
Its Záouias and Medressas are the head-quarters
of Moslem confraternities, which extend in a network
all over the Muhammedan world, having an untold
influence on the progress of events in the Dar-ul-
Islam.
The history of Kairwân is of especial interest
to Europeans, because of the links by which it is
bound to Spain through the Moorish conquest. The
world-renowned Mezquita of Cordova was built upon
the plan of El Djâma 'l Kebir at Kairwân;† and
Tarik, who went forth from this city, gave his name
to one of Britain's mightiest strongholds, the Rock of
Tarik—Gibr-al-Tar, or Djebel Tarik. In the house
of many an old Moorish family hangs the key of a
Spanish home, never more to turn in the lock to which
it once belonged.
Built soon after the Prophet's death, when the
first great wave of Muhammedanism swept towards
the West, Kairwân has ever been held the most
* I adopt this spelling because it represents the pronuncia-
tion constantly heard in Tripoli and Tunisia.
† This has been dealt with in a paper by Mr. R. H.
Carpenter, F.R.I.B.A., to which special reference is made
hereafter.
4
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
sacred of African cities, the centre of Western Islam-
ism. The history of its foundation by "Okhbah ben
Nafi Ben Abdullah Ben Kaïs el Fahri" is given us by
the Arabian historian Novairi. It is interesting, if
not entirely credible. It has been translated into
French, from which I quote a passage or two:-
"Okhbah ben Nafi, having resolved to found the town
"of Kairwân, conducted his soldiers towards the place
"that he had chosen, a thick jungle, through which no
"path had ever been traced. His soldiers said to him
"when he ordered them to begin work-' What!
"wouldest thou make us construct a town in the
"midst of an impenetrable forest? Shall we not be in
"danger from the wild beasts of every kind, and the
serpents, whose attacks we should have to brave?'
"Okhbah, whose intercession was all-powerful with
"the Divine power, addressed himself then to the
"Most High God (his warriors answering Amen to his
"invocations). 'O you serpents and savage beasts,
"let it be known that we are the companions of the
"prophet of Allah! Depart from the place that we
"have chosen to establish ourselves in. If we find
"any of you henceforward on this spot ye shall be
"put to death.' When he had ceased speaking the
"Mussulmans saw with astonishment, during the
"whole day, the venomous reptiles and ferocious beasts
"retreating far away, and carrying with them their
"young, a miracle which converted a great number
"of Berbers to Islamism."
(C
!
KAIRWAN'S FUTURE.
5
Leo Africanus, the old Moorish historian, tells us—
"Cairaoan conditorem habuit Hucba, qui universi
"exercitus dux ex Arabia deserta ab Hutmeno pon-
"tifice tertio missus fuerat; neque aliam ob causam
"conditum fuisse dicunt, quam ut in eo exercitus cum
" omni praeda Barbaris atque Numidis adempta, secure
"se continere possent. (Leo, p. 223.)
Here, then, Okhbah and his soldiers could enjoy
their loot, far away from the fleets of Christendom,
but ready to sally forth whenever an opportune
occasion arrived.
Burton tells us ("Mecca and Medina," vol. i. p.
10) that one day Mecca will fall before Kairwân. He
perhaps quotes Bruce, who quotes a a Moslem
prophecy, that when the birthplace of the Prophet
falls into the hands of the infidel, Alexandria will for
a time succeed to its honours. "In its turn it will
'be followed by Kairawan, in the Regency of Tunis;
"and this eventually by Raschid or Rosetta, which
"last will endure to the end of time."
Though almost unknown in Europe, the sacred
city of Okhbah has exercised the greatest power in
(6
* "The famous citie of Cairaoan, otherwise called Carven,
was founded by Hucba, who was sent generall of an armie
"out of Arabia Deserta, by Hutmen (Othman), the thirde
"Mahumetan Califa; neither was it built (they say) for any other
purpose, but onely that the Arabian armie might securely
rest therein with all such spoiles as they woone from the Bar-
"barians and Numidians." (From an old translation of the
works of Leo the Moor, quoted by Mr. Rae.)
66
s
6
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
Moslem Africa, and has been the "veritable
Metropolis of the Crescent" in the West. For a
thousand years no 'Cut-off One' entered its holy
precincts; and even to the present day comparatively
few Englishmen have entered Kairwân.
Sir Grenville Temple, arriving in 1830 with a
strong escort, and carrying an order from the Bey
of Tunis, was only allowed to pass hurriedly through
the streets, and warned not to look about him. The
Marquess of Waterford ten years later tried to enter,
but was stoned and almost killed. The well-known
Palestinian traveller, Dr. Tristram, after his wander-
ings south of the Atlas in 1857, visited the land of
Tunis; and it is greatly to be regretted that an
account of his explorations was not given to the
world.* Whilst journeying in the interior of the
country he circled round Kairwân's white walls, but
deemed it prudent not to enter the city, though
holding the necessary letter of commendation from
the Bey. His travels were extended to the far
south of Tunisia, through districts never previously
traversed by a European, and in times when the
Bedouins were far less amenable to authority than in
the present day.
In 1877, bearing the requisite Amar from Mu-
hammed es Sadek, Mr. Edward Rae paid a more
successful visit, which was marked both by pluck and
* An account of his experiences with the Waregrans is,
however, given at pp. 225-228.
EDWARD RAE AT KAIRWÂN.
7
kindly good humour. He was the guest of the Caid,
Sidi Muhammed el Mourâbet, a descendant of the
Almoravides, and during his stay he won the hearts
of many Kairwanis by his pleasant manner. Mr,
Rae was the first European who ventured to make a
thorough plan of the city and the great mosque, and
he exposed himself to serious danger in making the
survey of the walls almost unaccompanied. He did
not know what use would be made of the plan, or as
a good Arabophile he would have torn up the much-
treasured paper. When the French army in 1881
advanced on Kairwân the map thus made was their
only guide. Mr. Rae had to return without entering
the Djâma 'l Kebir or other mosques, yet he obtained
so much information on every subject that his
charming book, "The Country of the Moors," is
invaluable as a guide to all the places he visited.
In April, 1881, Lord and Lady Bective, with an
armed escort, entered the gates and passed through
the streets of Kairwân. Six months later, General
Etienne, commanding one of the three divisions of
the French "Armée d'Occupation," which was to
march upon and seize the Holy City, appeared out-
side its walls. From the great Minar a frightened
Mueddin waved a piece of white calico, and Sidi
Mourâbet, the governor, rode out of the Bab et Tunes
to surrender the Holy City. When twenty-two
thousand men were marching upon the city, what
was he to do? The whole population does not
-
8
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
:
exceed fourteen thousand souls, and the warlike
members of the Zlass tribes had fled that morning
to the south. So the French troops marched in at
the Tunis gate, their bands playing the "Marseillaise,”
and passing through the principal streets came out
again by the Bab-el-Djûlladîn.
Seizing this opportunity, Mr. Alexander Broadley,
an English barrister living at Tunis, subsequently the
advocate of Arabi Pasha, visited the city as special
correspondent of the Times,* in company with M.
Galea our Vice-consul at Susa, and M. Jacassey the
Tunisian artist. Armed with the chassepot-key they
saw sights that no Christian had ever yet beheld, and
in his attractive work, "The Fourth Punic War," its
author describes with graphic pen his experiences
in the Holy City. At this time photographs were
taken in Kairwân, and even in the great mosque
itself.
The religious susceptibilities of the Kairwanis
received a terrible shock when they saw the infidel
soldiers in their sacred streets; but they have re-
covered now, and Kairwân is almost herself again.
* See Times, October 13th and November 18th, 1881.
† In Harper for May, 1884, is a paper from the pen of
Mr. A. F. Jacassey (now of Minnesota, U.S.A.), which most
picturesquely describes Kairwân. He says, "It is to-day, with
"the exception of Mecca, the only city where one finds the
"characteristic type of the Arab, the traditionary lore of the
"race, and epics of its origin, intact as in the primitive days of
"Islamism." From which it will be seen that Kairwân is worthy
of some attention.
VICTOR GUERIN'S OPINION.
و
Much as they hate the intrusion of the "Roumi," yet
they will hesitate ere they stone him as they stoned
the Marquess of Waterford, lest reprisals follow.
The infidel having once been permitted to enter
the Djâma 'l Kebir, its great doors may be swung
back again if the Ferik so command; but the Câfer
must run the risk of being smitten by any fanatic who
may see him pass thence, or of being marked by some
jealous member of the Aïssaouia.
The words of Victor Guerin, written in 1861,
are practically true now, with the exception of the
italicised portion.
"Là, jamais le Muedzin, en annonçant la prière
“du haut des minarets, n'a rencontré de son regard
"indigné aucun autre symbole religieux arboré sur un
"sanctuaire rival, où le nom de Mahomet ne fût point
"invoqué; là, depuis douze siècles, l'iman, interprète
"et apôtre du Coran, n'a jamais vu paraître en sa
"présence un ministre de l'Evangile."
?
10
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
·
CHAPTER II
BY OCEAN AND SEA.
A commotion on the ocean-Complimentary boatswain-
Captain Brown-Martin Luther, the steward-Across the
bay—The Spanish peninsula-Corunna-Cape St. Vincent
-Africa — Tangiers-Old Gib.—The Sierra Nevada—
Turtle-mocking-Cape Agate-Trinity Sunday-Ras Seb-
bah Rous-Galita and Galitona-Cape Bon-Pantellaria—
Moonlight musings.
GLORIOUS green-blue rollers with ceaseless charge
came rushing on to meet us as the Glenochil bravely
climbed their glassy sides to plunge again from the
summit into the eddying valley beyond. Down went
her bows as if to the bottom of the ocean, her stern
high up in air, the screw whizzing round; then came
a curling, threatening wave-monster, balancing its
crest aloft for a moment erect, to fling its tons of
crystal dashing water on the forecastle deck.
"The great green lines of the swift strong sea
Came by like charges of cavalry,
With their coats of mail and their snowy crests,
And they bear us up on their mighty breasts;
And the mighty breakers tower and curl,
Marbled with emerald and pearl.” *
"*
* The Bishop of Bedford in Good Words.
LIFE AT SEA.
II
Nothing could be more inspiring than to stand on
the flying bridge and view one of the grandest sights
in creation, as the wave mountains of the Atlantic
ever rolled past, or to sit on the upper topsail yard
as it swung from port to starboard, looking down
on the vast tract of heaving waters, bounded only
by the distant horizon circle, where the green-blue sea
met the grey-blue sky dappled with fluffy cloudlets
all torn and wind-driven.
A year before, the vessel I was sailing in (the
Cyprus), was in great danger in this same Bay of
Biscay, during one of the worst gales known for
fifteen years, but on the Glenochil we experienced
nothing beyond a tossing.
He
'Beg pardon, sir," says the boatswain; "you'll
excuse the liberty, sir, but I think they spoilt a good
sailor when they made you a parson." This remark
was made one day upon descending from my seat
on the upper topsail yard by one of the stays.
had found out that I knew the starboard-vang
from the fore trysail, and a buntline from a tripping
line. We soon became strong friends, and I did not
find the sailors less appreciative when we had our
services because I sometimes gave a hand at hauling
the braces, or kept above deck in dirty weather clad
in oilskins and sou'-wester.
Warm-hearted fellows are these Jack-tars, and
though some were put on board hopelessly drunk, the
tears would glisten quickly in their eyes, when one
12
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
spoke plainly and kindly to them on solemn subjects.
We had very hearty services on the Glenochil.
Captain Brown, one of the finest specimens of the
British shipmaster it has been my lot to meet,
conducts service himself twice a Sunday, and lives
up to his services on week days.
Of course I became chaplain in ordinary to the
Glenochil, and all hands came to church. A strange
mistake was made by Martin Luther, our Swedish
steward, one Sunday. I had preached from Acts
xxvii. 44—“And so it came to pass that they escaped
all safe to land." I noticed that Martin was listening
most attentively, though his knowledge of English
was limited. Later on in the day he was reading
to me out of his Swedish Bible, and stopping awhile
we were talking of Swedish preachers, and comparing
notes as to some of the churches at Stockholm.
Then suddenly he said, "Was you really in that
ship, sir, that went aground at Malta?" Well, I
tried to explain as best I could that it was a long
time ago that the shipwreck happened, and that it
was a preacher called Paul whom I had been speak-
ing of; but it was all to no effect. "Yes, there's
a good many ships has been lost there lately, sir,” he
replied, as he proceeded to give me a list of the
same.
He was a droll fellow, this same Martin Luther.
He laughed so loudly at our feeble jokes, when he was
waiting in the cabin, that one was in momentary fear
SPAIN AND PORTUGAL.
13
C
of having the soup-tureen emptied down one's neck,
or one's head anointed with gravy.
Over the trackless sea we plunged on our way, and
for three days after the white cliffs of England had
gone down below the horizon, we were out of sight of
land. At last, on the third day, the dark mountains
of North-Western Spain rose on our port bows, and
a fine view opened out of the coast from Cape Ortegal
to the Cisargas Islands.
Later on we were abreast of Corunna. Dark
chocolate cliffs rise rugged and precipitous from the
water's edge. An opening in the mountain range here
leaves a level plain on which Corunna rests. Now
and then a pretty Spanish village was seen nestling
in a sandy bay, its white houses clustering round a
church, the cattle descending a red road on the
mountain side, as the evening called them home.
Towards noon the following day we were approach-
ing Cape St. Vincent, the most westerly point in the
continent of Europe, the scene of the great naval
engagement in 1805. Bright bursts of sunshine
alternated with heavy showers, while the dark blue
sea was lashed into little white horses by a strong
headwind. Threatening masses of cloud, piled one
upon another, half obscured the sky, which looked
purer and brighter as these dark vapour mountains
with snowy summits reared their heads into the blue
expanse.
A long dark.line of grey-brown cliff extends to
14
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
the north as far as the eye can see, and to the south-
ward runs out a wave-dashed promontory very like
Flamborough Head, bearing a white lighthouse on
its extreme point, and surrounded by a Portuguese
building of slightly ecclesiastical style, which is a
Nunnery.
Splash! splash! came some warning drops, and
in a moment the sea was hissing under a tremendous
downpour, and all was hidden from view. The decks
swam under the waterfloods, but at last it passed away
to leeward, and as the storm curtain lifted, the brown
rocks of Portugal stood out all rugged, bathed in
bright sunshine.
Just a week from the day when we sailed down the
North Sea, we saw once more the brown-green hills of
Africa before us in the early morning light, stretching
from Cape Spartel to cloud-capped Abyla.
Owing to a strong 'Levanter,' we hugged the
African coast in steaming through the straits. If
there had been a 'Ponenter' blowing, we should have
kept the mid-channel, as we should have had it
with us instead of in our teeth.
Tangiers is very Oriental in character, though
Occidental in position. A circling wall encloses the
minarets and white flat-rocfed houses, rising one above
the other in endless tiers on the hill, the tower of the
Kasbah dominating all. On the mountain sides to
the west are perched pretty villas, the country
residences of the consuls, etc., and to the east of the
THE ROCK OF TARIK.
15
town is a fine stretch of sandy beach, a favourite
promenade of the Tangerenes.
A few hours more, and we were nearing old Djebel-
el-Tarik, the rock-fortress of that fierce old Kairwani,
who took so large a share in the subjection of Spain to
the Moors-he who went forth from Okhbah's mosque
at Kairwân to carry the faith of Muhammed and the
supremacy of Islam to the Lands of the North. This
mountain of Tarik,-Gibraltar, the Calpe of olden
times, and Abyla, the Apes mountain across the
Straits, are the two Pillars of Hercules-the end of
the earth and sea.
We stood in close to the town of Gibraltar, and
all the familiar places opened out as we approached
Europa Point. Across the bay, and beyond the
neutral ground, is Algesiras, the first Spanish town,
while under the shadow of the great Rock nestle
Gibraltar and Rosia, all bristling with guns, which also
peep out from cavern-like holes in the Rock itself—
"los dientes de la vieja" (the old woman's teeth).
Steaming on into the Mediterranean, we saw the
back of the Rock, the eastern and uninhabited side,
standing out precipitous, bare, rugged, and grand in
outline, like a crouching lion. Three summits there
are-the most southern, Sugar-loaf Point, on which is
O'Hara's Tower (1439 feet); the middle elevation,
called the Signal Station (1276 feet); and the land-
ward or northern summit, whence the sunset gun
fires (1350 feet).
16
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
Over the deepest blue water we ploughed our way
as we sailed under the bright hot sun over the Midland
Sea, and the Sierra Nevada lifted their snow-covered
heads thousands of feet into the sky as we steamed
along the southern coast of Spain.
Leaning over the bows I watched the graceful
porpoises shooting through the crystal water, as they
fled before the swift bows of the Glenochil. A great
turtle slowly paddled out of the way, utterly disgusted
with these fussy, noisy appliances of an infidel civiliza-
tion. "Ya kelb ibn kelb?" he seemed to say to me:
"Why dost thou thus disturb my post-prandial nap?"
So he moved off in a surly fashion, to bask more
quietly elsewhere.
The next morning we left Cape Agate on our port
quarter, and steamed all day over an oily sea, until
the African hills were abeam in the evening. The
dog-watches I often spent with the sailors, and taught
them to play upon a set of handbells which I had
brought for their amusement; the chimes and tunes
rang out very sweetly over the calm sea in the evening.
I shall not forget the evening of Trinity Sunday,
after our hearty services, as I leant over the bulwarks,
watching the sunset hues upon the African mountains
and listening to the men singing hymns on the fore-
castle.
We were a few miles from the promontory of the
Seven Capes, in Algeria-Ras Sebbah Rous. The
dark, rocky mountains were empurpled by the crimson
GULF OF CARTHAGE.
17
sunset hues. The plain of rippling water stretching
from us to the lighthouse at the foot of the crags
changed from a dark blue where the waves leapt back
from the ship's sides, to a pale green near the shore.
The sky, like a flamingo's blushing breast, near the
horizon passed by delicate changing hues through
orange and emerald-green to grey-blue overhead.
The sun, a dazzling mass of fire, rested for a moment
on the molten waves, and threw a fiery track across
the western sea. As soon as it set all was changed—
the mountains disappeared in the mist, and the moon
shone out on pale waves.
Two rocky islands lie in the track of vessels
sailing from Gibraltar to Malta. They are called
Galita and Galitona, and are separated only by a
channel a quarter of a mile wide. Early one
morning we entered these straits, and we seemed to
be overshadowed by the rocky heights towering above
us on either side. Most piratical looking islands they
are; indeed, once they were the resort of the Tripoli-
tan corsairs when wishing to careen their vessels or
lay in fresh water.
That evening we approached the land of Tunisia,
but only to leave it again, for the Glenochil could
not put in even to oblige her only passenger. We
crossed the Gulf of Carthage, and made Ras Addar,
after passing under Zembra, the zebra-striped island
which, with its smaller sister Zembrotta, guard the
entrance to this Gulf of Tunis or Carthage.
C
18
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
}
Cape Bon, the Promontorium Mercurii of the
Romans, and the Ras Addar of the Moors, is the
northern extremity of the Dakkul promontory (from
Dakkul, strip or corner), which extends to this point
from Hammamet, the Town of Doves. Stern and
rugged were the serrated cliffs in the evening light, as
they rose 1176 feet from the sea, and crowned by a
Punic cairn on the summit. A soft downy bed of
snowy clouds clung to the sides of the Cape, and was
tinged with a golden light from the west. Four
hundred and fifty feet from the sea stands the white
lighthouse whose flashing light, white and red, guides
the steamers on this highway of nations, as the rude
Pharos on the summit of old directed the Carthagi-
nian galleys entering the gulf.
It was towards midnight when we were off the
island of Pantellaria, and an almost dazzling full
moon lit up the sea as in broad daylight. It was my
last evening at sea, and I felt sad as I sat aloft,
the great sails swelling out beneath me before the
breeze, and casting weird shadows on the sea beneath.
The outlook at the bows strode to and fro, only a
little black shadow far away down below on the
forecastle; the mate on the bridge with his night
glass was looking at the black outline of Pantellaria,
while the man at the wheel amidships directed our
good vessel on her rushing course, as her red and
green lamps glared out on the dark water.
THE FLOWER OF THE WORLD.
19
CHAPTER III.
EL FIOR' DEL MONDO.
Elementary geography—Gozo and the Gozitans—Arabic and
Maltese Island of Malta-Cala di San Paolo-The place
where two seas meet-St. Paul's shipwreck-The grand
harbour of Valetta-H.M.S. Inflexible-Good-bye to the
Glenochil-Dunsford's Hotel-Mr. Clophan—Floriana—
Marketing-Off to Barbary-On board the Ville de Rome
-Filfla as a target-Our doctor in danger-The vice-
consul of Tripoli.
CAN we wonder that the Maltese loves to call his
island home the "Flower of the World"? Barren and
desolate as the yellow rocks may appear from the
sea, the scene is completely changed when once one
glides under the guns of St. Elmo, and finds one's self
in the bright harbour of Valetta, surrounded by the
innumerable dghaisas which flit over the blue water.
Two larger islands and two smaller ones form
our Maltese dependencies. The largest, Malta, is
about seventeen miles long and nine miles at its
broadest part, in shape somewhat like a sole. Gozo,
the sister isle, is nine miles long and five broad, and
is in shape like an egg. It is only separated from
20
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
Malta by a narrow channel containing the two small
islands, Comino and Cominotto. Let me attempt
some description of the group of rocky excrescences
upon the blue face of the Mediterranean, under whose
cliffs we sailed that warm May morning.
About half-past ten, up to which time I had been
busily engaged in packing up, I came on deck to find
the Glenochil approaching Gozo's yellow cliffs.
Before us was Ras San Dimitri, the most westerly
point of the islands, and high up on the hills the
Guirdan lighthouse and signalling station. As the
Glenochil was to replenish her bunkers at Valetta,
Captain Brown here signalled the number of tons re-
quired, and the message was flashed to the depôts,
where all was made ready for her arrival at the Grand
Harbour a couple of hours later.
The capital of Gozo is Rabato, perched up on the
backbone of the rocky island, which is crowded with
cities, churches, and inhabitants. The latter are very
industrious. The Gozitans fish for tunny, cultivate
barley and cotton, and make cheeses from the milk
of long-necked, long-legged sheep. They speak an
Arab dialect, like their Maltese brethren. All the
geographical names take one to Barbary: ras for
cape, oued for ravine, stream, or river; their very
salutation, Salaam glakicum (“peace be with you”),
almost identical with the Bedouin benison. So we
steamed past the hills of Gozo, crowned with ancient
towns and churches, its barren-looking yellow lands
ST. PAUL'S SHIPWRECK.
21
divided continually into strips by the parallel stone
walls built to protect the crops from the much-
dreaded mistral.
Before us lay Gozo's big sister, Malta, stretching
to the south-east, and passing the small islets, Comino
and Cominotto, we were soon abreast of Ras Lahrash
and Melleha Bay.
In the days when wild thyme was abundant on the
hills round Melleha, it was famed for its delicately
flavoured honey. Indeed it is said by many that
the whole island of Melita thus obtained its ancient
name-a fairly probable conjecture.
Upon the adjoining promontory is Selmûn Palace,
which looks down upon the scene of St. Paul's
shipwreck; and as we steamed onwards the Glenochil
was soon passing the "certain bay with a creek,"
and "the place where two seas meet." An almost
unanimous concensus of nautical and Biblical authori-
ties has for many weighty reasons found, in the Cala
San Paolo, the scene of the apostle's shipwreck, and
in the channel between Selmûn Island (or “Gzier”)
and the mainland, the place where the great Alex-
andrian vessel was hurled ashore in the early morning
light.
7
It is still more interesting to approach the bay
from the land, where you see how exactly it satisfies
all the required conditions, suggested by the Bible
narrative. The splendid monograph of James Smith
of Jordan hill ("Voyage and Shipwreck of St. Paul")
22
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
has obtained a world-wide reputation, and a study
of his arguments, together with some previous know-
ledge of the surroundings of the Cala di San Paolo,
has made me more than ever satisfied that this is
the "TÓπos diáλaooos" of Acts xxvii. 41.
(6
Seven miles more and our voyage was practically
ended, as we lay off Valetta. St. John's Cathedral,
the Governor's palace, and the white forts rose from
the blue Mediterranean, while the pilot, in his gaily
painted dghaisa, came out to us over the dancing
waves.
Slowly the great Glenochil glided under the guns
of St. Elmo, her Union Jack proudly floating in the
breeze, and once more we were in the Grand Harbour
of Valetta,* looking upon a most picturesque scene,
that strange mixture of England, Africa, and Italy.
The dark blue waves breaking over the rocks at
the entrance of the harbour, rolled along in a heavy
swell, lifting the rows of gondola-like dghaisas, all
brilliant with their coloured sides and high prows.
The Maltese boatmen execrated as their craft were
dashed against one another and against the quay.
One could never grow weary of gazing at that
moving crowd; was there ever such a cosmopolitan
gathering ?—Arabs, Turks, Capuchins, red-coated
English soldiers, Algerians, Maltese lazzaroni, black
* When St. Paul left Malta he must have sailed from
Valetta, for there is no other natural harbour where the
Alexandrian grain-ship could have wintered.
VALETTA HARBOUR.
23
coats and sun helmets, priests, men-o'-war's men
with un-English countenances, and policemen in
semi-military costume.
Out in the harbour were modern men-of-war, with
iron sides and threatening grey turrets, a contrast
to those 'wooden walls' which fought for us in days
gone by, and now stand high out of the water, serving
as hospitals, etc., for our sailors. Rows of black
screw-steamers of the unmistakable North Country
type lay along the quay, taking in "bunker" coal,
and hurrying off in an hour or two to Constantinople,
Suez, or Newcastle. White forts and balconied
houses high above us were perched on the rock, and
reflected the bright sunlight, while the bells of San
Giovanni and other churches were clanging in an
irregular purposeless strain.
Through the hot streets I hurried to get my letters,
and to make inquiries as to the steamers for
Tripoli, and at last down the stair streets to the
Marina, passing the flocks of goats waiting with their
tinkling bells for some one to come and milk them,
and so through the deep archway and past the gushing
fountain out on to the quay.
In a dghaisa manned by two swarthy Maltese
we glided over the blue waters of the Grand Harbour
towards the white sides of the Glenochil, where they
were still busy coaling, for I wished to say good-bye
to my sailor friends. Passing under the sides of
H.M.S. Inflexible, where all was excitement and hurry,
24
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
as she was about to sail for Corfu, I felt almost
justified in going on board and getting in every
one's way. It certainly was interesting to stand in
the turrets of a vessel which took such a prominent
part in the bombardment of Alexandria the other
month.
I was shown how to sight the 81-ton guns, and
tried to imagine them pointing at Arabi's forts
instead of at Mr. Eynaud's office on the Marina.
The tar who took me round became most descriptive,
and made me feel what an important part he had
played in the subjection of Alexandria. I saw one
of "Arabi's pills," a huge cylindrical shot which
burst its way in, killing an officer and taking off a
carpenter's legs. It is preserved as a curiosity, lying
on a polished wooden rest amidships, near the
aquarium. We went all over the ship; down in the
holds, among the shot and torpedoes, in the engine
rooms, where steam was being got up and where a
very civil engineer showed me the electric machines
which now and then kill off an odd man or so, up
in the "conning" tower, and everywhere where one
could go who takes kindly to a sailor's life. Having
decorated the palm of my brave attendant with a
Victorian medal, I slung myself down into the
dghaisa, and away we dashed to the Glenochil.
Boats were crowded round her, coal barges were
leaving, and steam was up.
On the bridge of the Glenochil we slowly passed
AT DUNSFORD'S.
25
down the lovely harbour, and swept out from the
smooth water till we rounded Ricasoli point, and
were among the tossing waves. "Good-bye! God
bless you all!" and so, with many a hearty grip
from rough hands, I left my good friends and
clambered down the rope ladder to the pilot's boat.
Dunsford's Hotel in the Strada Reale is one of the
most comfortable in Valetta. The company is ever
changing, fresh faces every day at the dinner table.
Bronzed Indians, rushing home by P. and O. boat just
a few hours on shore; others on their way out to India
or Egypt; some just come as far as Malta for the
benefit of the voyage, and a few staying some time in
Valetta.
I determined to make friends with the first person
who sat down by me. For a long time I thought
there would be an empty seat, but a rather military
looking man came in and seemed to wish to be quiet.
After several colloquial shots, some very wild, at last
I brought him down, and we were bosom friends for
the rest of our joint stay.
Mr. Clophan, of Alexandria, is well known in the
Levant, and his adventures during the siege were
entertaining. He had been "massacred" once or
twice by the Arabs, who inconsiderately beat him over
the head with bottles.
After dinner we strolled out in St. George's Square,
in front of the Governor's palace, where all the fashion
of Valetta was promenading. I invested in a neat
26
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
six-barrelled revolver, and a thick serviceable stick, to
be my companions on the Dark Continent.
In the moonlight we walked and talked, turning
our steps to Floriana, one of the four or five suburbs
of Valetta. We passed under the Porta Reale, its
great white gateway reminding one of a Roman
Triumphal Arch, and crossed the deep fosse beyond
the ramparts.
An early visit to the Valetta market next morning
was a treat. Crowds surrounded us during the
financial arguments between my friend and the
natives, and Maltese women under their faldettes
smiled at the efforts of the Inglisi to reduce the
price of some canaries in cages.
Up and down the picturesque flights of steps,.
about which Byron wrote so savagely——
"Adieu, ye cursed streets of stairs.
How surely he who mounts you swears!
>>
It is not every one, however, who has a club foot like
the irritable poet.
Late that afternoon we were both steaming in
different directions, my Alexandrian friend with his
canaries sailing Eastwards, I, with my revolver and
thick stick, on board a fine steamer of the Compagnie
Generale Transatlantique, bound for Barbary.
I watched Malta sink into the sea, when we had
sailed round its eastern extremity and seen its
southern shores stretching towards Gozo. There is
FILFLA AND THE IRONCLADS.
27
ņ
a little island on this side called "Filfla," from the
Moorish word filfel, a peppercorn.
I was often
puzzled to know where the stormy petrels had their
habitation. The mystery is solved at last. Filfla is
said to be their home.
It is too bad (for the sake of that much-abused
bird) that this rock of Filfla should be used as a target
by men-o'-war, but this is the case. A lady in Valetta
thinks "the ships would be much more usefully
employed in giving dances in the Grand Harbour
than in firing shots at Filfla."
At dinner I was in momentary fear for the ship's
doctor, whom I was sure would enlarge his mouth
from the vigorous manner in which he handled his
knife. When dessert came, M. le Medecin seized a
large apricot, and placing both elbows on the cloth
he held the fruit in ape-fashion, glared at it, and then
made a bite, turned it round, glared, and bit again.
A middle-aged gentleman sat on the opposite
side of the saloon table. After hearing my French,
he looked very hard at me, and at last he said, "Why,
you're an Englishman, aren't you?" It was Mr.
Taylor, the vice-consul at Tripoli, returning to Africa
after a long absence.
All that evening we talked together, and far into
the night, pacing the upper deck, as the Ville de
Rome sped over the calm dark sea. Mr. Taylor
in his earlier days was at Dahomey, and there was
instrumental in stopping the human sacrifices.
28
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
CHAPTER IV.
TARABOLOS GHARB.
Approaching an African sea-port--Why called Tripoli-Pass
the Turkish Douane-An English face-Quadrifrontal arch
-Camel campanology-Yellow Moors and Blackamoors
-Scenes in bazaar—Lieutenant Nedjih Beki—An awful
dream-More awful awakening—A marriage.
THE chief town in the Pashalik of Tripoli lay before
us next morning, stretched along the hot burning
shore, as the Ville de Rome circled round the jagged
rocks which might so easily make an excellent break-
water for the harbour of Tripoli in the West.
Glaring white were the mosques and minarets of
this African city, with its background and fringe of
feathery date-palm. A long line of sand stretched to
the north-west, hot and red under the morning sun.
On the reef of dark brown rocks surrounding the
harbour the dark blue sea was breaking viciously as
we felt our way to the anchorage, having taken a
native pilot on board. To the east the low red cliffs
are crowned with a small forest of palms, and a
white-domed marabout, the resting-place of a Mu-
TWO TRIPOLIS.
29
hammedan saint,* rises among them. Not unlike
Tenedos in the Egean is this city of Tarabolos
Gharb, though Tenedos lacks the Mesheyah groves
of graceful Nakhil.
At last we let go our anchor, while seventeen
boats full of screaming, yelling Tripolitans, Maltese,
and Italians surrounded us, waiting eagerly for
"pratique" to be declared, hoping then to carry us
off in their strange craft to the Custom House.
Tarabolos Gharb, or Tripoli in the West, is so
named in contradistinction to Trablous Shark, the
Saracenic or Eastern Tripoli. Unfortunate mistakes
have been made as to the two Tripolis. A houseful
of furniture was once delivered at the Syrian Trablous,
when it should have arrived in Africa.
Tripolis originally was the name for a country
rather than a town. As Decapolis was the region
of ten cities, Pentapolis of five, so Tripolis included
within its limits three cities-Leptis, Sabrata, and
Ea. It is upon the site of the last that Tarabolos
Gharb now stands.†
Tripoli still is the name for the country as well
as of its capital. The Vilayet of Tripoli is subject
to the Sublime Porte, who appoints its Governor-
* The word Marábout is used in North Africa both for the
man and for his tomb. A Marábout is a Dervish, Santon, or
Muhammedan holy personage, often deficient in the brain
power.
† There is a useful little sketch of the history of Tripoli in
"The Country of the Moors" (chap. ii.).
30
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
general, occupies the country with ten thousand
Turkish troops, and manipulates its revenue.
Tripoli comprises also the states of Fezzan and
Barca. Fezzan stretches far away into the interior of
Africa, while Barca, containing the ancient Cyrene,
reaches even to the land of Egypt.
Tripoli is the most African and the most
thoroughly Oriental of any town upon the north
coast of Africa. Algeria and Tunisia are all more
or less affected by French civilization, but the Tripoli
of to-day is the Tripoli of Consul Tully's time,
unchanging while all around has changed.
The finest groves of palm trees to be seen per-
haps in the world surround Tarabolos Gharb, and
stretch for scores of miles along the Mesheyah. These
palms are a great feature in the Tripolitan scenery.
The Sahara, the great African desert, rolls within a
few miles of the city gates, its fine sand often whirling
down upon the houses and penetrating everywhere.
Tripoli has always been a favourite point for the
departure of great travellers for the interior, being
nearly three hundred miles farther south than any
more western port. From Ain Zhara, the first oasis
beyond the Mesheyah, Barth, Nachtigal, the ill-fated
Miss Tinne, and many other famous explorers, have
set off to penetrate the Dark Continent.
From the British Consulate were waving all the
flags available, among which the old Union Jack was
very conspicuous. It was the Queen's birthday, and
QUADRIFRONTAL ARCH.
31
from courtesy national flags were hoisted on all the
other consulates.
With our luggage around us we pulled over the
blue waves, the Arab boatmen rousing in us some
speculation as to their combination costumes, the
difficulty being to decide which, amidst so many
patches, was the original texture. So through the
strange Levantine vessels we steered for the white
quay in front of the Custom House, where there was
gathered a strange crowd of Muhammedan Africans.
Amid Tripolitans of every hue, I managed to
get to the Custom House, and successfully passed the
luggage through the brown hands of the adhesive
officials, having gravely exhibited my passport up-
side down to an intelligent official of the Ottoman
Government.
"Yonder is Mr. Grace;" and an Englishman of
military appearance came forward. To him I intro-
duced myself, and in his company was soon on the
way to the Tripolitan hostelry kept by a Maltese.
Thence under the flying buttresses of some strange
streets to deliver my letters of introduction, and
among others to Mr. F. R. Drummond-Hay, H.B.M.'s
Consul-general.
One of the first objects which met my gaze in
the tortuous Tripolitan streets was the Quadrifrontal
Roman arch so thoroughly described in Lyon Play-
fair's "Travels in the Footsteps of Bruce." What
* Bruce left an elaborate series of drawings of this arch,
32
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY,
degradation! It is turned into a Maltese wine
store, being built up at each opening with stone and
plaster, and a glass window in the centre. To
what base uses do we come!
"Imperial Cæsar, dead and turned to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.”
We entered and found the stonework perfect within,
though both externally and internally the noble arch
has lost much of its dignity by being one-third
sunken in the ground, covered up by the rubbish of
centuries. It is domed inside and the stones floriated.
Outside are bas-relief trophies of Roman armour, and
the remains of the figure of Victory in a leopard-
drawn car. It was erected to the honour of Aurelius
Antoninus and Lucius Aurelius Verus by one C. C.
Celsus, manager of the public games.
*
A ceaseless procession sweeps ever past Celsus'
two of which have been given in Colonel Playfair's work. The
description in "The Country of the Moors" is most thorough
and exhaustive. There are only three quadrifrontal arches in
the world, the others being that of Caracalla at Tebessa, and
Janus Quadrifrons at Rome.
* Mr. Rae gives the inscription and a translation of the
same. I quote the latter. "To the Emperor Cæsar Aurelius
Antoninus Augustus, Father of his Country, and to the Emperor
Cæsar Lucius Aurelius Verus Armeniacus Augustus, Servius
Scipio Orfitus proconsul, with Uttedius (?) Marcellus, his
Lieutenant, dedicated: Caius Calpurnius Celsus, manager of
the public games, Curator, Quinquennial Duumvir, and Flamen
of Quirinus for life, made the arch in solid marble” (“Country
of the Moors," p. 70).
CIRCUMAMBULATING CAMELS.
33
arch, a crowd which is not very different from that
which looked upon it when that marble was newly
chiselled-Arabs in their white baracans, picturesquely
thrown round them, brown hairy camels growling and
grunting as they bear their huge burdens, black
negroes from the Soudân in native costume, and
Africans of all shades and varieties.
Through open doors in some streets you may
see in the gloom of the darkened interior, mills for
grinding corn, where the blindfolded camel goes round
and round on a never-ending circuit. A little bell is
kept ringing by the djmil's circumambulations, and
when he stops to think and chew the cud of con-
templation, his sleeping driver wakes up and comes
down from his shelf to "lubricate the machine." He
winds it up with a useful stick, at which the camel
gives a growl of protestation and moves on.
The
Bakeries are very common along the streets.
bun-like little loaves are extracted from the long
oven on a shovel. The "coloured" bakers are nearly
all from Fezzan (some thirty days' journey into
the interior), where the heat is intense. They are
negroes with woolly hair, and very dark skins,
varying from chocolate to coal black.
In Tripoli you cannot go four paces without meet-
ing negroes from the interior-Ghadamis, Mourzoukis,
and sometimes even a Twarig. It seems as if about
one-fifth of the population is black; and handsome
men and women many of them are.
D
34
#
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
The other inhabitants are either Moslems or Jews.
The Jews, however, are quite different to the Hebrews
that we meet at home. To Europeans these African
Jews appear identical with their Arab countrymen.
In physiognomy the men often seem very little
different. In their dress, however, to one who lives
among them there is sufficient distinction. The Jew
always wears something blue around his fez, or some-
thing with blue in it. But the Jews here have super-
stitious customs which would not be tolerated among
their brethren in England.
Walking in the narrow streets of Tripoli one finds
one's self in a new world, and yet a very old world, the
surroundings are so utterly strange and yet all so
thoroughly in keeping. At every step one is filled
with a desire to preserve each peculiar scene in one's
mind's eye for ever, for one is continually beholding
some perfect Oriental picture which, by its brilliancy
and quaint surroundings, would delight those at home
if made permanent by the artist's hand.
*
Look at that old Marábout, or Muhammedan saint,
sitting yonder in the street, with his grizzled beard
and his red and white turban, his beads in his hand,
and a dirty baracan around him. At the time of the
Aïssaouia festival a word from him might bring instant
* Many sentences in these sketches will be found to be in
the present tense; for they were written down as they now
stand at the time. The author trusts that this may condone
for an offence he feels guilty of sudden transition from the
past to the present, and vice versâ.

SCENE IN BAZAAR.
THE STORY-TELLER.
POOR NEDJIH!
35
destruction to us, and cause the Arabs to fly upon us
promptly with "Death to the infidel."
Come into one of the bazaars with us and sit
near the Djâma 'l Shaib el Ain, the mosque built by
the Saint of the Grey Eyes. Overhead lattice-work
from one roof to another is covered by the delicate
leaves of the vine, through which the bright sunlight
percolates, tinged a delicious emerald green.
We sip our Arab coffee from tiny cups, each cup-
ful separately made on the charcoal fire in a little tin
measure with a long handle. Look at the moving
panorama that sweeps by. One could never tire of
watching it. Here comes a self-satisfied camel,
looking down contemptuously alike on infidels, Jews,
and sons of the faithful. He moves along with solemn
gait and far-stretching neck, and woe betide you if you
do not get out of his way. He passes away ever
grumbling, as if he of all beasts in creation was the
worst used and had most right to complain. Opposite
to us two Turkish soldiers keep guard at the entrance
to their barracks, and present arms with a clash as
officers pass in and out.
A lieutenant in the Turkish cavalry joins us. He
is dressed in dark blue clothes and red fez, his sword
clashing at his side; a pleasant young fellow, banished
from Constantinople because he will not obey his
father, and marry a Turkish houri who has no charms
for him. He has our sympathy at once. Nedjih Beki
Bey is about eighteen years old, and greets us with
36
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
a hearty grasp of the hand. He has been brought
up in France, and speaks Parisian French. We saw
a good deal of him at Tripoli, though his superior
officers do not quite approve of his friendliness with
Europeans. Nedjih inscribed his name one day in
my birthday book in Turkish.
Here come sixteen Hammals, bearing a huge
hogshead of sugar slung below four long poles. At
each end of the poles are two of these porters, who
all shuffle along in step, with their bare feet and
ragged dress, chattering merrily, and all in good
temper. Look at yonder African striding through the
crowd as if the whole of Tripoli was his own; head
erect and arms swinging. He is a Cavasse from
one of the consulates, a Dragoman, black as ebony,
his fine figure enveloped in a graceful and bright dress.
Here is a black woman, with frizzy curls, a basket
on her head, a bright-coloured dress enveloping
part of her dark figure, her face good-tempered,
and the bright white teeth often exhibited merrily.
So the crowds move on; we sip our coffee, and
picturesque Moors on the divan smoke their nâr-
ghilehs, chibouques, or cigarettes; the bright sunlight
streams down through the green leaves, the air
resounds with Oriental shouts, buyer and seller
vociferate, and piercing street cries come from many
a strong throat.
All day long one felt that one was being rapidly
Orientalized by these strange surroundings. But if
A DREAM AND AN AWAKENING.
37
one's surroundings in Tripoli were strange during
the day-time, the weird scenes of the night were
really startling. I had lain down in my African
chamber (with a hole in the roof through which one
saw the stars), and, after a day of sight-seeing, was
dreaming of Marabouts, and of the members of the
Aïssaouia going through the city with their drums,
and singing the Tekbir. They were, I thought in
my dreams, going to and fro proclaiming a Fihad,
a holy war of extermination, against the infidels,
and were about to wreak summary vengeance upon.
the first Christian they could find. They were even.
now on their way to the Locanda, where they had
heard that a Roumi from the "land in the sea
» had
arrived. Louder and louder grew their wailing
discordant song, while the drum in measured stroke
accompanied the roar that came from the iron throats
of hundreds of Arabs.
A cold perspiration broke out on my face when
I began to realize that I was not asleep, but wide.
awake. I was alone, and it was about two in the
morning, but the howls and the beating of the drum
were real! There was no mistake—I was wide awake,
and the noise was every instant growing louder.
Hurriedly putting on some clothes, I felt my way
in the darkness through the large room on to which
mine opened, and again into an ante-chamber looking
on to the street. On the floor of this room lay a
negro, wrapped in his baracan. I did not know at the
38
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
moment who or what he was, but stepping over him
with my bare feet, I made my way to the window
and looked into the roadway below.
Down the long narrow street, with its flying
buttress-arches, was a blaze of light moving onwards
from the distance. Several hundred Arabs waving
torches and lanterns were marching with measured
step and chanting an unearthly song, taken up by
a single voice and then by the whole crowd. Many
were leaping in their white baracans, flying like cats
at the walls, as if to reach the upper story, and the
crowd, which was entirely composed of men, com-
pletely filled the street.
They swept on towards the lattice where I stood,
the waving lights illuminating the white houses, and
the long wailing chorus sending a thrill through me.
And what was it all? It was a marriage procession,
upon the last night of the week's festivities; the
bridegroom was being escorted to his bride. As the
crowd advanced I saw an open space in which was
the bridegroom supported by two friends. Lanterns
were held towards him in order that all might behold.
He looked very timid, and as if he did not at all like it,
and seemed to be about eighteen or twenty years of
age. The strange crowd surged past as they followed
him, making the street echo to their strange song.
They passed under a deep archway underneath some
houses built over the street, and the noise gradually
died away in the distance.
A SOLEMN THOUGHT.
39.
*
In the Land of the Mughreb we were often
brought face to face with scenes only half realized
before, and here was one which was a vivid commen-
tary on Matt. xxv. 5, 6-"While the bridegroom
"tarried, they all slumbered and slept. And at mid-
night there was a cry made, Behold, the bridegroom
"cometh; go ye out to meet him.”
(C
* All North Africa was called the 'Country of the Sunset'
(Mughreb) by the Mussulman conquerors from Arabia and the
East.
..
•
40
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
CHAPTER V.
THE CHIEF MOSQUE OF TRIPOLI.
Muhammedan prejudices-Not easily overcome-Mosque of
Gordji-Interior-The Mihrab-The Kibleh of Islam-
The Membar-Ascend the Minar-The Adzân or cry of
the Mueddin-Bird's-eye view of Tripoli-Backsheesh.
A SHOW of force is advisable, as well as the power
of the golden key, if one would penetrate the sanc-
tuaries of Islam at Tripoli.
His Excellency Achmet Rassim Pasha was good
enough not only to give the Christian Imaum per-
mission to enter the mosques, but directions came
from the Borj for an escort to protect us if necessary.
The dark lowering brows and gleaming teeth of the
loiterers around the entrance of the Djâmas* were
not reassuring, nor were they meant to be. Their
horror at the desecration of that which is 'harram
(sacred) was scarcely overcome by a liberal distribu-
tion of the Roumi's piastres, or by the special inter-
* "A 'Jami' is a place where people assemble to pray-a
house of public worship. A 'Masjid' is any place of prayer,
private or public. From 'Masjid' we derive our mosque."
(Burton.)
ANGRY MUSSULMÂNS.
41
vention of the all-powerful mahhboob. But with a
Cavasse from the consulate, a Zapti from the Kasbah,
and the son of the Moslem trustee of the mosque
property in Tripoli, we were fairly safe. The Emir
also accompanied us.
We calculated our time so as not to arrive at the
hour of prayer, and, taking the precaution of leaving
our strong boots behind, we "slippered" along the
narrow streets to the Djâma 'l Gordji, near to the
British consulate, the most beautiful though the most
modern of the Tripolitan mosques. Passing quickly
through a gathering of angry faces we entered the
Djâma, putting our shoes from off our feet, for the
ground whereon we stood was holy. Quietly we trod
the rich Turkish carpets, and asked our questions in
subdued tones, creating much uneasiness in the minds
of the guardian of the holy place by the numerous
notes we made.
As all mosques are built on one general plan, it
may be well to describe what is always seen, whether
it is in the magnificent Santa Sophia at Stamboul,
or in the awful Djâma 'l Kebir at Kairwân the
Holy.
Corresponding in a slight degree to the chancel
of our English churches is a small apse, very small
indeed, called the Mihrab. It is merely a niche
in which the priest, the Imaum, stands with his face
towards the Kaába of Mecca as he leads the prayers
of the Faithful. This niche is always seen in the
I
42
TO. KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
same place, in the centre of that wall which faces the
Prophet's birthplace.
Towards the sacred black stone of Mecca (the
Hajar el Aswad) all the worship of the Muhammedan
is offered, and this is the only tendency to idolatry I
know of in a faith which prohibits the likeness of
anything which is in heaven above or in the earth
beneath. Muhammed the Prophet first made Jerusa-
lem the Kibleh, or spot towards which prayers were
to be said, and this he did that he might attract
the Jews; but failing in his purpose he changed the
Kibleh to the Bayt-Allah, or "House of God" at
Mecca, originally the pagan temple of the Arabs.
"Turn thy face towards the holy temple of Mecca,
and whenever ye pray turn your faces towards
that place." So says the Korân (Sura ii. 129).
Behind the Imaum kneel in rows the silent wor-
shippers, or standing in their flowing robes hearken
on Friday to the Khâtbah, the public official prayers,
and loyal exhortations of the preacher addressing
them from the Membar. The Membar (or pulpit) is
always on the right side of the Mihrab; its floor is
twelve or fourteen feet above the level of the mosque,
a flight of about twenty steps leading up to the spot
where the Khatib or preacher stands.
The interior of the mosque (or to speak more
correctly the prayer chamber) is square or oblong,
with a colonnade supporting the galleries and roof,
and often over the main entrance a gallery-porch
UP A MINARET.
43
upon which stands the responsive choir, who chant
verses of the Korân in a weird thrilling fashion.
The mosque which we are now visiting was built
by a Mameluke called El Hadji Muhammed Gordji.
He lies in a mausoleum behind the prayer chamber.
Adjoining his tomb is a quadrangle whose small
chambers are inhabited by attendants and religious
attachés of the mosque, after the fashion of alms-
houses. These devout Moslems of the Mosque all
came in for a share in spoiling the Roumi.
After inspecting everything on the ground floor,
we astonished the mosque-guardian by saying we
were going to mount the Minar, or great tower, to
obtain a bird's-eye view of the city of Tripoli. My
Cavasse declined, upon the ground that it would make
him giddy; he preferred to remain below and guard
the door. So the Emir and I trotted up the tower.
Round and round, up and up, now and then passing
a loop-hole, which gave a momentary glimpse of white
roofs and blue sea; then again we stumbled into
darkness until certain muscles began to ache and
we became hotter and more breathless. Near the
top, the walls of the Minar are hung on the inside
with the lamps used at the feast of Beiram after the
Ramadan fast. They are used then to decorate the
exterior of the Minar at night. It was inconsiderate
of them to leave their dirty oily lamps for us to
rub against in the dark.
At last we emerged into the dazzling blaze of
+
44
TO KÁIRWÂN THE HOLY.
sunlight, and stood where the Mueddin appears
five times a day as he cries over the city in pro-
longed wailing semi-tones-
"Allahu ekbar
"Eshehedu elle ilehe ellè allah
"Eshehedu enne Muhammed rasul allah
"Heia ala ssalet
"Heia ala lfelah
"Allahu ekbar
"Le illeha ellè allah."
Adding in the evening and at night
"Es sallè kheir min en nûm.” *
Very few Europeans † have ascended this Minaret,
where, as one walks round the balcony, one feels
as if one was suspended in a captive balloon. The
Emir said it made him feel rather uncomfortable
to look over, and if I had not had a weakness for
sitting on the upper topsail yard I might have been
influenced also.
To describe such a scene adequately would be
almost impossible, but I will endeavour to give my
impressions as I leaned over the sides of the white
stone car.
* See page 172 for the English of the Adzân. This is the
Tunisian pronunciation of the identical words which are used
every day from Morocco to India. They were taken down
from the lips of a Sfaxine Muhammedan.
+ Burton says, "A stranger must be careful how he appears
at a minaret window, unless he would have a bullet whizzing past
his head. Arabs are especially jealous of being over-looked,
and have no fellow-feeling for votaries of ‘beautiful views."
TRIPOLI FROM ALOFT.
45
Right down below me lay the Oriental city of
Tarabolos Gharb, a strange assortment of white build-
ings bordered by the blue waves of the Mediterranean,
beating on dark chocolate rocks.
In an Eastern scene you cannot fail to be re-
minded first of all of the sun and its power, especially
in summer-time. Glaring white were the flat roofs
below, all of them varying in height. On one we
saw women spreading out their clothes to dry.
They need not leave them, for in five minutes the
sun did its work, and they would be as dry as
tinder. Down in the narrow streets were the ever-
moving crowds of Tripolitans, negroes, hammals and
Turkish soldiers; while a strange confusion of cries
was borne up to us from buyers and sellers. Right
below us four camels, as small as those in a Noah's
ark, stood or knelt outside an oil mill, the sound
of whose tinkling bell came up to us as the djmil
patiently revolved within and crushed the olives.
The Emir pointed out to me all the well-known
places of interest, especially the various consulates,
and Mr. Drummond-Hay's residence close to us. Out
on the blue waves the Turkish men-of-war and smaller
vessels lay under the shelter of the line of rocks which
juts out into the sea and nearly forms a natural
harbour. It was proposed to connect these some-
what dangerous rocks and build them up into a pier,
but a Pasha decided that "they were too old to bear
the weight."
46
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
Towards the east, the palm groves extended as
far as the eye could reach, parallel with the shore,
while inland the Gharian hills appeared faintly over
the hot desert. From the irregular buildings of the
Kashbah on the east to the lighthouse on the west,
from the Bab-el-Bahhr by the sea to the Bab-el-
Yahoodi (the Jew's gate) behind us, all was dazzling
white. Snowy domes and cupolas, or creamy roofs,
some high, some low, courtyards with fountains play-
ing, and half a dozen minarets, everything girded about
and inclosed by the crenellated walls which abruptly
end the town; for with the walls the city suddenly
terminates, and the country begins. To the south, a
mile or so beyond the gate, is the Jewish burying-
place; to the east, two miles away, under the palms
near the blue sea, is our English cemetery; and
scattered here and there, ruined burying-places of the
Muhammedans.
We were scarcely conscious of the length of time
we remained on the top of the Minar, creating
possibly a tendency to impatience in our escort below.
We found the crowd considerably augmented by the
prospect of "backsheesh," and looking alternately
pleased and fanatically disgusted as the spoil was
divided amongst them. Free and open mosques would
be duly appreciated by the enterprising traveller.
Of the other mosques more anon.
THE SOUL-EL-HALFA.
47
CHAPTER VI.
THE ESPARTO MARKET.
The Souk-el-Halfa-Camel's vocal organs-Riding a djmil-
Rising superior-The ship of the desert-Mal-de-mer_
Sorting esparto-Coloured ladies and gentlemen-Fifty-
seven okes-El Ghrad-Cameline trot-Grateful Bedouin.
THE 'Halfa,' or esparto grass, so much used in the
manufacture of paper and the making of mats, is one
of the chief exports of North Africa, being brought
from the interior and carried to the coast on camel-
back, frequently for immense distances.*
The Esparto market at Tripoli is a huge open-air
quadrangle of about eight acres, surrounded by a high
white wall, over which we can see the waving date
palms, while within it is simply a desert of sand,
burning hot under a scorching sun.
To-day the great enclosure is filled with yelling
Arabs and screaming, groaning camels; for about eight
hundred "nets are in the market, each netful of
esparto representing a camel load. This should weigh
>>
* The Wady Halfa, or "Esparto Valley," on the Nile is a
name familiar to newspaper readers.
48
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
about four hundredweight, but the Arabs often load
the poor grumbling beasts up to eight or nine hundred-
weight. A roar goes up from the great enclosure,
partly from the Arabs, but chiefly from the throats of
the dissatisfied camels. The djmil never tires of
giving vent to his feelings, the older ones in a hoarse
roar or vindictive scream of passion, the younger ones
with a calf-like bleat, at times very like a human
voice inquiring for lactic refreshment. It is not easy
to see the derivation of our English word camel. Yet
take the Arabic plural djmel and soften it until you
get zmel, then take our word and place a cedilla under
the c, putting the accent or emphasis upon the second
syllable. Now notice the progressive connection
çamél = smell = zmel = djmel. Perhaps, however,
my etymology, like the camel's trot, is somewhat
shaky.
Look at this great beast coming towards us,
turning his head slowly from side to
perhaps, where his master intends to
"whack" with that stick he carries.
side, to see,
inflict the next
He is to be my
steed, and is to bear me some distance over the burn-
ing sands. But let him wait until I am ready; let
him roast himself in the sun while we sip our café à
l'Arabe in a little hut erected in the corner of the
market for the use of European merchants. The
inside of this summer-house erection is garnished with
flaming cartoons, from the Italian Punchinello, bearing
chiefly upon the political situation in the Levant.
CAMEL-RIDING.
49
Here we sit and watch the animated scene before us,
as net after net is brought up to the steel-yard and
weighed, the moist negroes pressing on the long lever
beam to lift the esparto clear of the ground. Around
this primitive machine is concentrated the greatest
excitement, as the Arabs dispute violently over the
weight and price.
My Bedouin smiles a grim ghastly smile as I
prepare to climb on to the esparto mat that lies upon
the djmil's back. But why should the brute grumble
so much? Surely his theology is not sufficiently
developed to enable him to nourish a secret hatred of
the European Imaum ?
It seems to be the camel's privilege to grumble on
all occasions, as if no beast in creation was so badly
used. At command of his driver, "Nakh-nakh," the
huge creature flops down on his knees, and squats
upon the ground, that I may the more easily mount
his back. Now comes one of the severe tests of camel
riding-to hold on while he gains his feet. Up go
his hind quarters half-way, his head still being down.
Up come the bows on a level with the stern. Then
with a mighty heave the huge quadruped gains his feet.
If in the meantime you have not disappeared over his
neck, or slid down his tail,-well, there you are, six
or eight feet from the ground.
Now with long stride we push our way through'
the throng of growling camels and out at the gate
of the esparto market: "Dzarrh!" yells the Bedouin,
E
50
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
=
as, stick in hand, he tries to get a decent pace out
of the djmil. Over the hot sands we go under the
fierce sun, with a long easy step, up and down, up
and down, the high lumpy back and the long neck
undulating as he slowly plants his great cushioned
feet on his native sand. We may realize from the
long heaving motion one reason why the camel may
be named "the ship of the desert." Woe betide any
weak mortal who suffers from mal de mer, if he or
she mounts a camel.
At last our journey is ended, as we find ourselves
at the depôt where the halfa or alpha grass is sorted
and compressed into iron-bound bales beneath a great
lever. An hydraulic press is soon to take its place.
One end of a huge beam is depressed by a perpen-
dicular screw, worked by a dozen warm negroes in
capstan fashion. The sons of Ham chatter merrily,
and show their ivory teeth, as they go slowly round and
round, apparently exerting all their strength. Round
two piles of loose esparto in the yard are gathered
negro men and women. The coloured gentlemen
wear huge straw hats to protect their black com-
plexions. They are engaged in pulling out any of
the halfa which has a root attached. These they
take to the women's group, where bronze Venuses,
in strictly economical clothing, though bright and
becoming, separate the roots from the grass.
In order to discover what effect the scorching sun
had had upon my wasted form, I was weighed in
FIFTY-SEVEN Okes.
51
the scales used for the halfa, and, sad to relate, found
that my infidel person weighed fifty-seven okes.
What an oke is it is only right for the credit of my
relations to refrain from disclosure. The stately
djmil once more rises from the ground with his burden
of fifty-seven okes, groaning fearfully in consequence.
Again with a "Dearrh!" and a resounding application
of the switch, we move off smartly over the hot sand.
One of the chief deterrents from camel exercisé
in Africa, is the presence of a monstrous insect
amongst the hair, called a "Ghrad." It is the shape
and about the size of a domesticated cockroach, and
this creature lives upon and fills itself to repletion
with sanguineous fluid. We cannot wonder that
camel-riding is not fashionable in Tripoli. Occasion-
ally the camels are taken into the sea to be washed,
but they resent such treatment as a personal insult.
As we rolled along I made a request in a weak
moment for a trot. Goaded by his attendant into
this most awful of paces, my djmil caused its much-
jerked rider intense agony and internal misery for a
"mauvais cinq minutes," during which time I felt
as if every portion of my frame was in the process of
disintegration. Thenceforth I became resigned to a
stately walk, feeling too that I had hurt the poor
brute's sense of dignity by urging him to make an
exhibition of himself.
Here we are again at the gate of the Souk el
Halfa, and, in obedience to the word of command,
་
52
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
I
"Nakh-nakh," my trusty steed tumbles down "all of
a heap," pitching and rolling, until he finally settles
in camel style on the sand. In this action a fresh
illustration is seen of the ship-of-the-desert theory;
for it was like striking suddenly upon a rock, then
sliding off to settle down on the stony beach, beaten
the while by the fierce waves. "May the Roumi
come and ride upon his slave's djmil many days
in each week," is the encouraging remark of the
Bedouin, induced by an act of legerdemain in which
coins mysteriously pass from sunburnt fingers into a
chocolate-coloured palm. To this was added—
"Allah be praised. May thy countenance never
grow cold."
The newly formed camel corps has all my
deepest sympathy. I would give anything to see a
charge.
THE MALTESÈ IN AFRICA.
53
CHAPTER VII.
WHITE FRIENDS AND BLACK.
The Maltese-British subjects-Our consulate at Tripoli--The
French consul-Who is to have Tripoli ?—Mysterious
Italians-Walter Grace-Abdullah el Khartoumi-History
of Miss Tinne-Her travels in Central Africa-Her tragic
end—A visit to the home of Frederick-Parade of Turkish
troops-Gratitude to the Sultan-Oriental band.
It would be only right now for me to introduce my
Tripolitan friends and acquaintances, and to give
some idea of the European colony in this city on the
verge of the Sahara. Half a dozen families of English
people at the outside are to be found in Tripoli, but
there are hundreds of "British subjects" from that
prolific island, Malta.
It is stated, and I believe quite correctly, that
there are more Maltese living out of Malta than in
it, though the Maltese islands are more densely
populated than the same area in any part of the
globe. The Maltese overflow the narrow limits of
their island home, leaving at the same time some
hundred and fifty thousand countrymen behind them
J
54
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
in Malta and Gozo. Along the northern coast of
Africa, they are to be found in every town in large
numbers, a source of continual worry to our British
consuls, whose protection they constantly seek.
"British subjects" they claim to be on all occasions.
Some months ago England was startled by a tele-
gram from Tunis informing us that an Englishman
had been struck down by a French officer, and that
the English consulate was surrounded by the British
colony, who in crowds sought redress through H.M.'s
consul, Mr. Reade.
Instead of the picture conveyed to most English
minds of a bullying French officer abusing a harm-
less English traveller, the scene rising before my
eyes was that of an insolent Maltese, conscious of
British protection, behaving in an insulting way
to some official at a time when relations between
France and England were already strained. The
Maltese in Alexandria also are a source of constant
trouble to the English residents; they are always
either starving or getting involved in disputes with
the natives. Mr. F. R. Drummond Hay, the Consul-
general, and Mr. Taylor, the Vice-consul, have their
work cut out in tending their Maltese flock in
Tarabolos Gharb.
The British consulate is one of the finest houses
in Tripoli a large, square, white edifice with flat
roofs, surmounted by a tall flagstaff, upon which, on
the day of my arrival, a considerable amount of
BRITISH CONSULATE.
55
gay bunting was displayed-a complete set of signal
flags.
Let us enter the central courtyard, through a deep
archway where the cavasses and attendants lounge.
These gentlemen are worthy of notice in passing,
Look at Muhammed yonder—a fine fellow, with his
sheshya on the back of his shaven head; always
has a smile for his superiors and a grim look for
the troublesome inferiors. Then Mufta, in his
clean, flowing robes, graceful and becoming—a
most intelligent and even thoroughly honest drago-
man. Just glance at that black youth, who stands
by in white garments. He has suffered from a
vindictive attack of small-pox, and looks as if small
boys had shot pellets at his black visage while still
impressionable. However, he tries to make amends.
by polishing his face beyond the verge of shininess.
Other picturesque Orientals lounge round the door-
way or sit cross-legged within, and passing between
these we enter a quadrangle, ar und which, with deep
open galleries and verandahs, is built the house. In
the centre of the court a fine shumac rises, casting
a dark green shade on the white stones beneath.
Golden bloom, bright and dazzling in the sunlight,
is contrasted with the brilliant flowers of a handsome
geranium, which is trained up the stem for some
eight or ten feet. On the grand stone staircase
are more gerania, and other bright flowers in pots,
on either side.
56
10 KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
The rooms are lofty, and well darkened from the
fierce rays of the sun with mats, so that perfect coolness
reigns within, when every one is scorched without.
British influence preponderates at Tripoli; chiefly,
perhaps, because England has far the greatest share
in her commerce. Then France, by her action in
the adjoining province of Tunisia, has unmasked her
spirit of annexation.
Monsieur Féraud, the French consul, is a cheerful,
vivacious Algerian officer, who writes, and sketches,
and paints by turns. I spent a most interesting
afternoon with him, as he displayed his innumerable
drawings in charcoal, and his brilliant views of Tripoli
in couleur de rose.
He is writing a history of Tarabolos Gharb, and
he will probably be able to show most excellent
reasons for the annexation of Tripoli by his nation.
He had the reputation of being a consul de combat,*
but is anxious now to maintain a peaceful attitude.
Between Italy and France there exists the
strongest jealousy as to the ultimate fate of Tripoli.
The occupation of Tunis almost caused a proclama-
tion of war between Rome and Paris, and the question
now is, who is to have Tripoli?
The Porte naturally keeps a firm hold, and having
more than trebled its soldiers in the pashalik, has no
intention of backing out to please Gallican, Roman,
or Briton.
* See Broadley's "Tunis, Past and Present."
GIN A BODIE KISS A BODIE.”
57
The French say that troublesome tribes just
hover on their border-land, and they will be obliged
eventually to cross over into Tripoli to chastise them,
and then the chasse aux kroumirs and the promenade
militaire will be re-enacted.
Natives often favour British rule, as being the
most just, as treating with the greatest respect the
traditions of their country, and for commercial
reasons, as being the only government which would
bring prosperity.
Italy, within a stone's throw, naturally considers
the prize should be hers. France has Algeria and
Tunis, and England grasps the land of Egypt—why
should she not possess Tripoli, with Fezzan and
Barca, the connecting links in European Africa ?
During my sojourn at Tripoli, I was somewhat
puzzled by the movements of some Italian officers in
mufti, who stayed at the Locanda with me. We
were great friends, but they must excuse my saying
that they were somewhat unfathomable. Why were
they there, and in the pay of Italy, departing suddenly,
returning unexpectedly? Though I had the pleasure
of being kissed and of kissing my Italian friends on
departure, after the manner and custom of their
country, I was not quite satisfied as to the nature of
their mission. They were charming fellows, never-
theless, though I anathematized them sometimes,
when they would sing comic songs at midnight.
Mr. Walter Grace, one of my best friends in
58
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
Tripoli, has been nominated Roumelian consul, but
the Porte is rather sore upon the subject, and does
not, as yet, recognize his consular position. Not that
they have anything against Mr. Grace, but Roumelia
having been wrested from Turkey, the Sublime Porte
is somewhat tardy in recognizing the new sovereignty.
I was much indebted to this friend, for his continual
efforts on my behalf during my sojourn in Tarabolos
Gharb, and to Mrs. Grace, for the kindly hospitality
so often extended to me.
At Mr. Grace's house I cultivated the acquaint-
ance of one of his black servants, an Ethiopian of the
deepest chocolate dye, “El Hadji Abdullah ben Said."
He was born at Khartoum, some thirty years ago,
and has been four times married. His first wife was
a negress, the second an Egyptian of Cairo, the third
an Algerine Moor, the fourth a Tripolitan.
Abdullah ("the servant of God") is a splendid
fellow, well made and rather tall, with a pleasant
countenance. He was full of most interesting infor-
mation, having been servant, both to the ill-fated
Miss Tinne, and to Captain Gill, who accompanied
Professor Palmer into the Sinaitic desert.
He told me his whole life. How, when he was
but a boy, he came down to the great city of Cairo,
and how, when he was about fifteen, he met with
Miss Tinne, who was travelling with her mother, and
delighting to lead almost a nomad existence.
became thenceforth her servant, and with them
He
A WONDERFUL WOMAN.
59
travelled to Bongo, in Central Africa, and stayed
there for two years, living in huts. Abdullah said
that at Rek, where they were, the people were
cannibals. Here Madame Tinne died, and also two
female Dutch servants. From Rek they journeyed
once more to the land of Egypt, and then returned
to Khartoum, where Abdullah visited his old home.
At Berber they lived for two months in tents.
Thence they crossed the desert plains to Souakim,
where they stayed for a month. They sailed over to
the opposite shores, to Jeddah, the seaport of Mecca
the Holy, but did not visit the shrine of Islam.
After a few weeks' stay they turned their steps
northwards, and for three years remained in Cairo.
Leaving Egypt's capital they journeyed to Europe,
visiting Italy and the Riviera. Abdullah saw strange
sights in the Land of the Giaour, sights he will never
forget.
Miss Tinne did not care to remain in Europe, and
again they set off for Africa. Arriving at Algiers,
great preparations were made for an extended journey
into the Sahara-land of the interior. At this time the
captain and crew of the Dutch vessel Meeuw, which
she had bought for her voyages in the Mediterranean,
were engaged to accompany them inland, and serve
as a European body-guard to Miss Tinne.
It must have been a strange and picturesque sight
to have stood by the old Moorish Bab el Zoun, and
seen the caravan of the Roumi Princess' pass out:
+
60
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
one hundred and thirty-five camels, bearing water
and provisions, tents and presents, and accompanied
by quite a small regiment of attendants. Our friend
Abdullah was elated with the importance of himself
and his mistress, as they took their departure for the
interior.
Journeying far beyond the Atlas range, they arrived
at the independent city of Tuggurt, of which such an
interesting account is given in Dr. Tristram's "Sahara
(p. 279). Eastward they travel, even to Souf, and
then returning to Bonah,* at the eastern extremity of
Algeria, they take ship to Tunis, and afterwards to
Malta.
After a residence of three months in Valetta, once
more Miss Tinne longs for her wandering life amid
the "Sons of the Desert." Crossing over to Tripoli
with Abdullah, accompanied by his wife and boy,
they prepare for the expedition into the interior.
It was winter-time when the train of camels and
Arabs passed out through the Bab el Mesheyah,
through the palm groves and out on to the great
Sahara.
That night they encamped under those palm
trees, that seem so familiar to me, at the first oasis
in the desert, Ain Zhara.† Here they stayed awhile,
in order to test everything by camp life, and to gather
Bonah is described in the last chapter of this book.
† See pp. 99-106, for an account of our visit to this oasis of
Ain Zhara.
THE HEROINE OF THE WHITE HILL.
61
together their forces. Thirty-five camels, some with
iron tanks on their backs to carry water, some with
tents, some with baracans, beads, silk and other
presents for the natives. Two European sailors
accompanied Miss Tinne, also fifteen Arabs, and two
Soudânis (Fourrah and Dangidobro, now living in
Tripoli), besides Abdullah. There were also three
Bedouin women and three black girls.
They move away at last from Ain Zhara towards
those distant Gharian hills, journeying ever south-
wards. Miss Tinne's intention was to travel by Sokna
and Mourzouk (or Mursuk, see map) to far distant
Bornu, with its inland sea, Lake Chad, and thence
eventually to Cairo. From Walfellah, by Borndjim,
they pass through Sokna, Sabbah, Diminhint, Dzera,
Oddoa ("to-morrow"), and arrive at last at Mourzouk.
From Mourzouk they roamed over the country
round, from the eastern river (Wady Sharki) to the
western river (Wady Gharbi), and here (at Knókkin)
they stayed ten days. The chief of the fierce Twarig
race, the dread of all travellers, native or European,
met them by the Wady Gharbi and seemed con-
ciliated by Miss Tinne's presents. One is certainly
amazed at the extraordinary courage on the part of
a woman in travelling amongst such notoriously
savage tribes. She returned to Mourzouk, but soon
leaving it again moved on to Bilberani. The dark-
skinned Twarigs again appear to escort her to Ghrât,
a city never yet entered by a Christian.
62
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
At Barjuish, five days from Fezzan, in the heart
of Africa, Miss Tinne encamped, after the last stage
in her journey of life, in the midst of these Twarigs,
Touarigs or Tawáriks (as Barth calls them).
Abdullah had meantime been sent north from
Mourzouk to purchase camels, and had arrived at
Tripoli. It was three months later that he was
shocked and horrified to hear sad news of his mistress.
It seems that some of these faithless Twarigs had
arranged with Muhammed of Tunis (who was acting
in Abdullah's place), and a few of the Arab servants,
to take Miss Tinne's life, and to divide the spoil.
Early on the morning of the first of August, 1869, these
dark-skinned murderers came into the encampment,
as they were preparing for a start, picked a quarrel
with the attendants, and as Miss Tinne came out of
her tent to restore order, cut her down. Overpowering
the escort, they killed the sailors and carried off one
of the women servants, Jasmina, as a slave.
On hearing of this, Abdullah set off at once for
Fezzan, and here he met the other servants who had
fled, and returned with them to Tripoli for the judicial
inquiry into Miss Tinne's death, which lasted for six
months, and resulted in the conviction of five
prisoners. After a year the woman, who had been
sold into captivity, was also ransomed and brought
back. Abdullah Ben Said has been handsomely
treated by the relatives of his mistress, and receives
a substantial monthly pension from England, as do
EL HADJI ABDULLAH.
63
also Fourrah, Dangidobro, and Jasmina, the other
three survivors of her Egyptian suite.
It was very interesting to hear this from the lips
of one who had been an eye-witness of nearly all, and
since my return Mr. Ernest Tinne has kindly corrected
and verified this story of Miss Tinne's travels. No
authentic account of Miss Tinne's travels has before
appeared, and the splendid "Plantae Tinnuæ" alone
perpetuates the wanderings in Central Africa of her
who has been called "the Heroine of the White Nile."
In 1871, Abdullah set off to accomplish the great
religious act of a Muhammedan's life, the journey
to Mecca and Medina.
Circling the sacred shrine in many a ring,
He duly drank of Zemzem's holy spring,
And kissed that stone, which white in heaven as snow,
Doth now coal-black through breath of sinners show.”*
He took with him his third wife, but she died on the
way. He returns a Hadji, a duly certified pilgrim,
having circumambulated the Kaaba, kissed the Hajar,
and stoned El Shaitan.
Captain Gill, when travelling to Benghazi, took
Abdullah with him. He was about to journey into
the interior when his camels were seized by the
Turkish Government, and his journey interrupted. In
order to seek redress, Captain Gill went over to Con-
stantinople, and on the outbreak of hostilities against
Arabi Pasha, he proceeded to Cairo, and offered to
* Poems by Archbishop Trench.
64
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
assist Professor Palmer in his expedition to conciliate
the Bedouins of the Sinaitic peninsula, and to pur-
chase camels for transport. Abdullah had left his
service, and did not go that fatal journey into the
desert.
Abdullah has now settled down as head cook in
Mr. Grace's establishment, and I can speak strongly
in praise of his cuisine. He has a pleasant black
face, and white teeth often displayed with great
good nature. Strangely enough, he is not only a
Hadji, but also a member of the confraternity of the
Aïssaouia, and on the Marábout day rushes wildly
about the streets, jerking his thick lock of hair about,
eating prickly pears, etc.
One evening, Edward O'Grady and I rode out to
the Hermitage, the residence of the late Frederic
Warrington, a name which is like a household word
among the Arabs and the blacks for many a hundred
miles into the interior. "Frederic,” as he is still called .
by them, was the friend alike of negro and Arab, and
was treated by them as one of themselves. To his
salutation “ Salaam Alicûm " (Peace be with you), they
would give the reply which a follower of the prophet
only could expect, "Alicum Salem." To others arè
coldly spoken the words, “ Beni cadiqi salem" (Peace
to the sons of the faithful).
'Frederic' never held an official position in
Tripoli, save as interpreter to the consulate, but his
power was very great with the natives. His father
FREDERIC'S HERMITAGE.
65
before him was a consul of no ordinary power, who
stood at the helm at Tripoli and was all-powerful at
the Borj. The late Mr. Warrington was the friend
and adviser of all the great travellers who passed
into the interior from Tripoli. If Miss Tinne had
been guided by his advice, and certainly if she had
been protected by his presence, the Twarig murderers
would never have dared to execute their dastardly
plans.
The Hermitage, which was left by Mr. Warrington
to his adopted son, Edward O'Grady, is romantically
situated in a clearing amongst the palms, a couple
of miles from Tripoli, and it is surrounded by gardens.
In Mr. Warrington's lifetime there was a small negro
village with beehive huts, in the grounds, its in-
habitants happy in their life under the shadow of
Frederic's house, but in the sunshine of his protection.
It was very interesting to sit in rooms where the
.greatest African travellers had conversed as they
planned their routes through unknown lands, Barth,
Rohlf, Nachtigal, and many another, Here were all
their pictures, too, in the photographic album.
From the outlook on the roof, standing by the
flagstaff, we had a lovely view over the blue Mediter-
ranean, a picture framed in palm trees whose dark
branches waved mournfully in the evening air. The
sun had descended and the swift night was rushing
up, as only it does in southern latitudes.
Having seen much that was deeply interesting, we
F
66
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
caught our donkeys and away we went towards Tripoli
in the darkness, avoiding the dreadful holes in the
track. Crash! went the Emir, as his steed came
down unexpectedly; but fortunately he was not hurt.
It was a warning, however, to sit well back-d l'Arabe
-near the tail.
Now down on the seashore, where, passing round
a rocky promontory, the donkeys had to wade
through the waves-a weird sensation in the darkness,
yet I followed the Emir, and we safely emerged on to
dry ground in Tripoli bay.
Each evening, about sunset, the troops march out
upon the sand here, and, drawn up in line, give cheers
for the Sultan, and return thanks for their food,
clothes, and pay, as the bugle gives the signal for
gratitude. It is a strange sight, and suggestively
ironical, when one looks upon their awful clothes, and
is told that their pay is hopelessly in arrear.
*
In front of the general's house the band plays.
They have begun to imitate European music, but the
result is as trying to the infidel European as it is un-
satisfactory to the drum-loving son of the faithful.
The conductor turns his back upon the band in order
that he may not present it to the General. Two men
are solely employed in twirling round pagoda-like
edifices on poles, with innumerable bells attached,
while others blow trumpets in the German band style.
When a European orchestra first appeared at
* See extract from letter at end of chapter.
ORIENTAL TASTE.
67
Stamboul and played before the Sultan, his Ottoman
Majesty with his court sat to hear the performance.
A” was struck by some one with a tuning-fork,
and every instrument in the band began to tune up or
flatten down to concert pitch. Violins scraped, haut-
boys piped, bassoons grunted, trumpets sounded, and
trombones bellowed. There was a pause.
The con-
ductor struck his desk; but the performance was
stopped by a strong voice from the imperial box. It
was the Sultan, who roared, "Let the dogs play that
tune again.” To his Oriental ear nothing was so
delightful as the tuning up.
Extract from Letter to the Author.
"With regard to the number of soldiers here in
'Tripoli, it is impossible to get from the authorities
"exact statements, and they are very unwilling to give
any information on this point. For myself, I think
"we have about five thousand men stationed in and
"around Tripoli. More than half of these are supplied
"with Martini-Henry rifles, the remainder with Snider.
"The cavalry, some four hundred horse, are supplied
"with the Winchester repeating rifle, containing sixteen
charges. There is a battery of horse artillery (very
"well mounted), of sixteen Armstrong breech-loading
“guns, with all equipments first rate.
46
"There are three new earthwork forts to the west-
"ward of the town, one south-east, one east, one com-
manding the entrance to the harbour just eastward
邊
​68
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
"of the buoys, and one up by the lighthouse. The
"soldiers, cavalry, artillery, and forts, have all been
"instituted since the French excitement in Tunis.
/
"Formerly there were some three thousand men in
"the whole pashalik, but now some eight thousand five
"hundred all told. The regiments are numerous, but
"not fully up to strength, even rather under, four hun-
"dred men each battalion. Discipline very bad, officers
seeming to have no esprit de corps; and the men
"being so badly paid are not proud of wearing his
"Majesty's uniform (rags). They are fed plentifully
"but poorly, and paid one month's wages in every
"six, when they are lucky."
CC
*
· THE TWÒ FAIRS.
69
:
CHAPTER VIII.
EL SOUK EL DJAMA (THE FRIDAY FAIR).
The Tuesday fair and the Friday fair-Off to Am Roos-Youth-
ful piety-Fiery steed-Barb and djmil in collision-The
Mesheyan oasis-Baracans and how to use them-The fair
-Haggling-Blacksmiths-Bellows-Pepper-Sneezes-
Mishmash-Camelette-Sheep-slaughter-Native music--
Hath not charms-Am Roos-Arab interior-Legmi—Its
awful effects.
Two Moorish markets are held each week outside the
town of Tripoli.
Beyond the Bab el Hundouk (or Fondouk) a huge
and noisy gathering of Berbers, Bedouins, donkeys,
Moors, and camels spreads itself out over the hot
sand on the shore. The strange crowd, so picturesque
and bright, reaches even to the blue wavelets of the
Mediterranean as they curl over under this burning
sun. This is the Tuesday fair, the Souk el Thelath.
On the Muhammedan Sabbath, and early in the
morning, another "Souk" is held some distance
away, in the palm groves of the Mesheyah, the great
oasis which separates Tripoli from the Sahara.
1
70
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
This Souk el Djâma, or Friday Fair, is to be found
near the quaint little village of Am Roos, some five
miles or so from the white walls of Tripoli. Thither
we rode early one Friday morning, Mr. Grace and
our Italian friends in one of the Maltese buggies, the
former having kindly placed his Arab steed at my
disposal in order that I might have more freedom of
action. My friend the Emir was also upon a spirited
barb, which seemed anxious to maintain the character
bestowed upon these fleet steeds of Barbary.
Gently we ambled through the crowded bazaars,
a youthful Marábout blowing out his cheeks at us,
and then slapping them, to produce the paper-bag-
explosion effect. This was indicative of hatred and
disgust for the Roumi. He was an idiot. Allah had
transferred a portion of his reason beforehand to Para-
dise, and therefore he was a Saint. Past the Kasbah,
and then between the Turkish guards at the Bab el
Mesheyah. Under the archway and out on to the
burning sands, where the camels were reclining in
their hundreds, as they are ever wont, hoppled by a
tight cord round both shin and thigh-bone, so that
they cannot easily rise from a kneeling position, and
if they do rise cannot get away. My Arab steed here
took a mean advantage of my kind nature and promptly
bolted over the sands, through the camels and negroes
and donkeys and Bedouins; but as he inflicted no
personal injury upon any one, it was rather refreshing
than otherwise. I had been told that the curb was
EQUESTRIAN PERFORMANCES.
71
superfluous, and the snaffle only necessary, but found
this was a mistake, as I flew through the air on
"My Arab shod with fire."
I soon brought the Gazelle to, however, and we
thenceforth maintained a mutual understanding.
Less fortunate was a young Swiss friend a week
or two before. His fiery barb had bolted along a
narrow opening under the palms, and as he was
wildly careering the road was suddenly blocked by
a contemplative camel, who calmly emerged from a
by-road and was solemnly stalking across the path
down which this Helvetian Gilpin was tearing. The
djmil was laden with stones. Like an express dashing
into a goods train, so Wittstein's steed hurled itself
into the camel's flank. The camel is notoriously a
difficult creature to animate, but never did djmil move
so briskly as after the collision, when our friend, per-
forming several gyrations in mid-air, came down some-
where in the direction of the Soudân. Wittstein
broke his arm, the camel broke into a trot. The
stones flew in all directions, and the much-abused
camel received a dreadful shock to its nerves from
this sudden contact with an unbeliever. Its mind has
ever since been quite warped and biassed with a
severe prejudice against the Infidel in general, and
a muzzle has become a necessary part of its outfit,
Both horse and rider, however, were soon so far re-
covered as to be able to accompany us on another
expedition a few days later.
72
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
This morning we have a delightful ride through
the Mesheyan oasis. Palm trees on all sides, tall and
graceful, bowing ever and anon in the breeze, or
basking in the scorching sun, pomegranate bushes in
abundance, with their crimson flowers, caroub trees
with ripening pods, stately olives planted so regularly
row after row in the olive-yards, broad-leafed banana,
flaming oleander, gentle delicate orange bloom, flower
and bush and tree alike, all lovely with a semi-
tropical loveliness.
On all sides the white stone wings of the Beers, or
wells, are seen, and the ever-creaking wheel as the
patient ox descends an inclined plane drawing up the
dillu, the great skin, full of water, which gushes out
into the irrigating channels directing its course. Here
is the secret of most of the loveliness around.
Strange-looking Bedouins pass us with their black
burnt faces; some aloft on camels with the long
bindiggah, the Arab gun, slung across their shoulders,
some driving heavily laden asses almost hidden by
their loads, the driver often perched upon the over-
burdened donkey's back until one wonders what ex-
quisite torture can induce the tiny quadruped to
amble along so briskly.
The Moors and Arabs are all gracefully enveloped
in the long white baracan, completely draping them,
one end of its almost endless folds often flung over
the tarboosh as an additional protection from the sun's
fierce rays.
THE USES OF A BARACAN.
73
The black driver of the cart on springs in which
our friends rode, was draped most artistically, and
though he trotted alongside most of the way his
graceful costume was never disarranged. This bara-
can, which is worn over the linen underclothing, is of
prodigious size when completely opened out. I have
seen it used for the sail on a barge, spread out upon the
oars. It is used at night for bed and bedclothes, and
after a ventilating and depopulating shake it is
donned in the daytime as a protection against either
heat or cold. It is, however, scarcely advisable to
borrow a baracan. If you overcome the fanaticism
of the Arab, and obtain his permission to envelop
yourself in its folds, you have still the fanaticism of
insect life to contend with, and it wages a merciless
war upon the Roumi. Then a European never wears
a baracan gracefully; he always looks either like a
mummy revived, or an individual escaped from the
cooling-room of a Turkish bath.
The sun rose higher and higher above the feathery
palms and it was nearly nine a.m., when, after our hot
ride through the Mesheyah, we emerged into the large
"clearing" among the trees, where a perfect Babel
of sounds assails our ears, and we see before us a con-
fused crowd of savage-looking Orientals. A square
of some two or three acres is filled from end to end
with Moors and Bedouins, conducting business in that
delightfully Oriental fashion which is known among
us as "haggling." The wares are spread on the
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TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY:
ground, and the Arab and his friends squat round
them and gesticulate and shout and argue in a truly
African manner, arms, hands, and shoulders talking
just as much as the tongue.
•
Here are veritable blacksmiths hammering out
small swords, and the anvil upon which they work is
a camel's thigh-bone. Look at their bellows, not
quite so comical as the sapaghi, the long boots of
Southern Russia, which one has actually seen used for
blowing up the samovar, yet equally strange, being
made of an entire hairy goatskin. One of the feet
is the nozzle, and a large opening in the skin is
opened and shut suddenly so as to inflate the skin
and discharge the air into the embers.
Why are all the Arabs over yonder sneezing in such
a ridiculous manner? "In the name of the Prophet,
red pepper beans." That is the reason; and as we
approach we become equally ridiculous. Piles of red
pepper beans are spread in front of the little booths,
and the air is so impregnated that every living
creature must of necessity sneeze, until tears of
sincere grief trickle down one's cheeks; even the
camels join in and explode at intervals. There is
nothing more moving than to be near a camel when
it sneezes.
In the centre of the fair ground is a large flat
stone or rock upon which executions take place. The
last time a wretched man was beheaded, the efforts
of the executioner were for some time painfully un-
MY APRICOT STONES.
75
successful, and the poor creature's mother was a
witness of it all.
A more pleasant topic is mishmash, in which I
indulged freely. For about a penny a large hatful
of these delicious apricots could be purchased from
the luscious piles around. An Arab probably would
have received five times as much, but then we should
have had to hire a donkey to carry them. As I ate
the delicious fruit, doubly delicious under this scorch-
ing sun, I naturally threw down the stones on the
sand. I was soon astonished by the sensation I
created.
"In the Name of Allah, does the Roumi know
what he does? Does he not know that the stone
containeth a kernel, and that the kernel is sweet
and good?"
The small boys with their bronze skins dived
into the sand for the stones, and a regular scrim-
mage took place, though their elders looked on
sternly and with lowering brows, as the children
touched that which the infidel had defiled. I am
told that apricots are sold often upon the under-
standing that the stones are returned after the mish-
mash has been consumed, the sweet kernel being so
much valued.
In one corner of the Souk, camels were being
bought and sold. I fell head over ears in love with
a stately little camelette, about seven hands high,
covered thickly with white downy hair. I might
76
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
have her, the owner said, for twenty mahboobs,
about £3 155. How charming it would have been to
have led her home to the North Countrie,' and
introduced her to my Constantinopolitan pariah
"Tourc,"* yet I'm afraid I could not have found
an abundant supply of prickly pear for her under
our grey skies.
What evil tempers camels have.† Even camels of
tender years carry the disdainful air and the pro-
jecting under lip, ready always to pout or sneer, or
snarl, or grumble, or, worse still, to bite. But never
among the hundreds and hundreds of camels I was
continually meeting, did I ever see one that charmed
me so completely as this lovely little humpty-dumpty
at El Souk el Djâma of Tripoli.
Sheep and goats are huddled together in yonder
corner, frightened and trembling as the yelling Arabs
rush in upon them and drag out, now a great black
goat with curly horns, now a fat-tailed lopped-eared
sheep, so different from our Ovis Britannicus. The
tail appears as wide as the body (when covered by
* Since I first wrote these words poor Tourc has met with
an untimely end. I had picked him out of a nest in a narrow
street in Stamboul, and brought him up from puppyhood,
through youth to maturity, and had succeeded in civilizing him,
when in a fight he died. Few dogs have been more regretted
than Tourc. He was a fine specimen of the Eastern dog, and
his skin makes a handsome rug.
† It is said that Bedouins, through eating camel's flesh and
drinking camel's milk, have become cruel and treacherous.
MERCILESS MOROCCINE MUSIC.
77
its wool), and hangs down thick and heavy, a huge
lappet of prodigious weight.
The sand around is stained a deep crimson, from
the massacre of the innocent sheep this morning,
and on some bushes hang in the scorching sun skins
that gaily trotted into the market a few hours ago.
The Arabs in buying and selling seize upon some
particular sheep, and drag it, despite its vigorous
struggles, out of the flock. Then in turn they lift it
to judge its weight. The fearful weight of splendid
meat nearly breaks the seller's back, but the buyer
finds it absurdly light, nothing but skin and bones.
Under the palm trees we find two African
musicians, who have travelled from Fez in Morocco,
the place which gives its name to the sheshiya of
Tunis, the tarboosh of Tripoli, that thick bullet-proof
skull-cap so invaluable in this country, where the
bullet and the sun are almost equally powerful. The
Morrocines were beguiled into playing for us, and
they produced the most soul-creeping melodies that
they were able to invent out of two notes on an
African stringed instrument, the gimbrih, and a skin-
covered drum called a bindîr. I was waiting
patiently for them to begin, supposing in my sim-
plicity that they were going through a species of
preliminary tuning up; but they steadily adhered to
the two notes, after the fashion of the Ethiopian
serenader with the long boots. Imagine all the
music you could extract from two adjoining notes on
1
78
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
a piano, persistently played in alternation for some
twenty minutes, and accompany the same with a
stick upon the table, and you have true Oriental
music.
We next prevailed upon the Morrocine with the
gimbrih to sing in his own language.
His song
doubtless was of burning deserts and flying steeds,
of sun-faced youths and star-eyed damsels, of love
under difficulties, of war and the sword.
No doubt if I had been trained to appreciate
Arabic music and African songs my heart would have
thrilled with varying emotions. Yet, as it was, only
one thrilled me, and that was a strong desire to go
away somewhere; the same feeling that an ancient
and decrepit barrel organ arouses in the breast of the
unsympathetic Briton at home.
There sat the old Morrocine, with his dark face
and white turban, twanging his two-stringed banjo;
there sat likewise his brother in crime, for ever
keeping up on his tambourine a "trumatee trum-
trum, trum-atee-trum-trum;" there would they have
been still sitting under the palm trees, and bringing
discredit upon the neighbourhood, if we had not inter-
vened and paid them to stop.
With more easy consciences we now wandered
away from the crowd of shouting, gesticulating Arabs,
through the palm groves and under the mulberry trees,
until we saw before us the white houses of the village
of Am Roos.
AN INTERIOR AT AM ROOS.
79
The dwellings of the villagers here as elsewhere
have no external windows, but are built round a small
courtyard, into which all the rooms open. There is
just one door opening into this courtyard from
without.
One story high are all these houses in the country,
and builded of a species of cement, composed of wet
sand and stones tightly packed together within a
temporary framework of boards, which boards are
removed as the walls become dry and hard. Through
such walls could "thieves dig through and steal."*
Into a Moorish house we could never hope to enter―
that a Muhammedan himself could scarcely expect;
but we obtained access to the house of an Arab Jew
named Messawad, in Am Roos, and explored the
same from cellar to attic, to speak metaphorically
where neither cellar nor attic exist.
Entering the enclosure, dazzling white, as the
blazing sun beats down on the white cement floor, we
see doors opening into various chambers around,
some sleeping-rooms, one a guest-chamber, one a
lumber-room and a hen-house, while steps lead up
on to the flat roof and to a store built on one corner
thereof. From the roof you might run along to the
roof of another house without returning downstairs,
and in large towns thus escape most easily in case of
emergency. "Let him that is upon the house-top not
return into the house to take anything out of his
* Matt. vi. 19 (Greek).
7
80
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
house."
"'*
This seems very natural to one here, as do
so very many Bible expressions and incidents.
In a cool recess we sat cross-legged upon esparto
matting, and sipped legmi, so acceptable after a few
hours under this scorching sun, while the little dark-
skinned children gathered round in amazement.
Legmi, the beverage of the Arabs, is a noble drink.
The Arab climbs the date palm, and making an
incision at the top fastens there an earthen jar, which
collects the sap draining from this wound.
If not used the same day the legmi becomes very
unpleasant and also intoxicating. Our legmi, how-
ever, was perfectly fresh. Most delicious I found it
that scorching morning. In appearance like milk,
but in taste somewhat like soda water after effer-
vescence, and sweetened. This indeed is "The cup
which cheers but does not inebriate."
Undoubtedly it "cheered" us, for we all felt
happier and merrier after our legmi, and began to
find much that was funny in the little village. The
Emir excited the cocks of Am Roos by crowing
magnificently; we persuaded ourselves into believing
that a tumble-down dwelling we passed was a finer
ruin than anything at Leptis Magna; while an aged
Jewess was declared to be a splendid piece of antique
Roman ware, and a patient donkey who gazed
benignly upon us out of a door, wagging his ears as
the flies crept in and out, excited cries of derision.
* Matt. xxiv. 17.
AM ROASTED.
81
So we pass through the village, the inhabitants all
at work on the shady side of the street, hammering,
cobbling, and bargaining, but never a Moorish woman
to be seen, nothing but men and boys.
It was nearly midday when the fleet-footed
"Gazelle" brought me over the sands to the Bab
el Mesheyah. The molten ball of fire, of which we
know nothing in our humid island, was right over our
heads, and small dark shadows circled just round our
feet.
G
82
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
CHAPTER IX.
WITHIN AND WITHOUT THE WALLS OF TRIPOLI.
Infant schools-High school for Moors-Switches-Mosques---
Tunisian refugees-Moslem pictures—Rakaats—Ablutions
-Dragoot the Corsair-Kuss-kuss-óo-Arab Jews-Syna-
gogues-Blood of Christian-The walls of Tripoli-View
near lighthouse-Outside the walls-A beer—An odd trio-
The ox and two asses-Extra-mural fair-Money-changing
-The orange-blossom and mothers-in-law-Harêms.
I SHOULD imagine that school-life was somewhat
monotonous in Tripoli. Escorted by Muphta and
the Emir, I went one day to inspect the elementary
education system of this country. After passing
through tortuous by-streets, at last we heard in the
distance a hum, then as we drew nearer, a steady
roar, and arriving at last outside the building, the
noise developed into a prolonged and vigorous shout.
Up a narrow staircase in single file, and pushing
open the door, an awful and sudden silence fell
upon the crowd of cross-legged children-a contrast
indeed to the discordant Babel which had deafened
one a moment before. In a little chamber, some ten
HIGH SCHOOL FOR MOORS.
83
yards square, were gathered seventy or eighty
diminutive Moors, all sitting cross-legged upon the
floor, some in turbans, some in sheshyas, some in
coloured garments of a nondescript description, but
nearly all of a very tender age, perhaps seven or
eight.
/
In one corner, on a slightly raised dais, sat, also
cross-legged, a very sullen, fanatical, middle-aged
Moslem, with a long switch, teaching the young
idea to shout. He glared fiercely at us for dis-
turbing his school, and Muphta's polite assurances
did not seem to soothe him at all. After intro-
ducing ourselves as most distinguished visitors we
told him we should like the children to continue
their lessons, which consisted in learning the alphabet
in Arabic. With an overwhelming crash the lung-
power of young Tripoli was ably demonstrated, as
every child howled its loudest, swaying to and fro,
and roaring out all the letters it knew.
Each little scholar who was slightly advanced had
a circle of smaller children round him, whom he led
in this letter exercise, declaiming one letter after
another, which they echoed loudly, all swaying to and
fro like little Chinese mandarins. We soon retired,
salaaming to the sour-looking master and frightened-
looking little Muhammedans as we backed out.
Another time we went to a school for children
of riper years, a sort of "High School for Moors,” which
was held in a mosque-like building. Here we took
84
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
His cap,
off our shoes at the entrance, and made obeisance
to the Head Master in his Cap and Gown.
however, was a sheshya; his gown of white flowing
material. He did not rise, and seemed rather to
resent our intrusion. I walked round, looking over
the boys' slates, or rather small black boards, upon
which they wrote with chalk.
There was no furniture of any kind, save some
mats upon the floor. The boys all squatted under
the dome, and were certainly less noisy than in the
first school. Elder scholars corrected the exercises
of the younger boys, all of which were sentences from
the Korân, which in Muhammedan countries forms
the weft and woof of education. It has to be learnt
off by heart, which being accomplished a Moslem
education is almost complete.
The master had a magnificent switch, capable
I am sure of awe-inspiring and resounding whacks.
Unfortunately, I came away without seeing corporal
punishment inflicted. An Eastern maxim which
offers its consolation to him that is chastised declares
that-
"The green rod is of the trees of Paradise."
We have yet three mosques to see, and now must
pass through the bazaars to the Djâma Shaib el Ain,
the mosque of the grey-eyed saint. In the courtyard
here is gathered an immense number of Tunisians
and Bedouins, who have fled from the French army
and placed themselves under Tripoline protection.
STARVING BEDOUINS.
85
Very destitute they seemed, dirty, wan, and
hunger-bitten. As we passed they surged in a
vociferating mass, crying out, holding up their hands.
It was a distribution of bread that was taking place,
and each one was rushing for a dole. One pitied
these dark-skinned women and children, in a foreign
land, driven from their homes in Tunisia by the
stranger.
Our escort guarded us from insults as we entered
the mosque. An old Moor at the door sorrowfully
shook his head and moaned, "Ach set la hal" (The
world is changing). Yes, when infidels are escorted
by the servants of a Moslem government, and bidden
to enter the holy places, it is somewhat trying for the
devout Moslem.
There is nothing attractive in the Djâma Shaib
el Ain a gaudily painted pulpit, pillars quite dis-
figured with coarse imitation marbling, and, strange
sight to see in the Iconoclastic Dar el Islam! three
prints, near the mihrab-one of Mecca, with the
Kaaba, the Bayt Allah; another of Medina, the
resting-place of the Prophet; and the third of El Kûds,
the Holy City (Jerusalem), with the mosque of Omar.
This seems almost a contravention of the decree of
Muhammed against all pictures.
We go to the Djâma Bashaw, or Pasha's mosque,
so called from its founder, Achmet Pasha. This
mosque comes second in the order of beauty in
Tripoli. Rows of marble pillars support a roof in
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TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
which are an immense number of small domes. Black
and white tiles on the floor, and a delicately tinted
dado of tiles round the walls to a considerable height;
above it the lovely arabesque work in plaster of Paris.
Muhammedans were praying towards the Kibleh
as we quietly passed round the square prayer-chamber,
and they paid no attention to us, being absorbed in
their devotions. First they stand, and lift up their
hands with palms in front. Then, after a moment's
prayer, they proceed to adoration, kneeling on the
floor and prostrating until they touch the ground
with their foreheads. Remaining upon their knees
they pray for some time, now and again between
their short prayers bending and kneeling in rakaats,
or prostrations. Finally, the Moslem solemnly and
slowly shakes his head and exclaims, "Allah-ach-
Kebar" (God is most great).
Outside the mosque, in the courtyard, other
Moslems were performing their ablutions, which they
must go through always before prayer. If they are
in the desert, where there is no water, fine sand is
allowed to take its place. The ordinary ablution
consists of washing the hands and arms to the elbows,
the head and face, and the feet to the ankles, which
ablutions are accompanied by short prayers.
One more mosque, that of the great Tripolitan
corsair, Dragut, who perished at St. Elmo, in Malta,
in the memorable siege of Valetta by the Moslems,
when such magnificent bravery was shown by the
KUSS-KÜSS-Ó0.
87.
knights of St. John. The interior of the mosque is
hideously painted, or rather daubed, and it has no
redeeming features; but the most interesting part is
the Marabout of Sidi Dragut, where, under a white.
Kouba, lies that corsair, now powerless, whose name
once brought terror to the whole Levant.
The black Muhammedan saint in charge of the
mausoleum admitted us when he saw our escort, and
passing in among numerous little tombs and yellow
flags we entered the small chamber where Dragut the
corsair lies after his wonderful career in the sixteenth
century. Brought back from Malta, he is buried in
his town of Tripoli, which he had wrested from its
brave Christian defender, the knight De Valier.
In the governor's palace at Valetta you may see
the sword, axe, and surtout of Dragut Reis, preserved
amid the many interesting relics of that collection.
To this Marábout of Sidi Dragut, which is quite
separate from his mosque, facing the harbour and
entered from the Marina, numbers of Moorish women
come to pray, and talk over the characters of their
Tripoline neighbours.
At our midday meal I was favoured with a dish
of Kuss-kuss-óo, the pièce de résistance of North Africa;
the very mention of which will bring a smile of
pleasant recollection upon the Bedouin's grim visage.
It is made of whole barley grain, steamed over the
meat, and served with it in balls, or some strange
shape, often like a Chinaman's hat. The only fault
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TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
I can find with this well-known African dish is
that it satisfies in an untimely fashion.
I had worked the Emir too hard lately in sight-
seeing, so I persuaded him to rest this afternoon,
while I wandered on in the broiling sun. Through
the Jews' quarter I found my way, peeping into
several synagogues, where they were sweeping and
preparing for the sabbath, and examining the ark
and the rolls of the Torah, the Nebiim, and the
Cetubim not printed books, but real old scriptural
rolls.
A good deal of excitement has been created in
the Levant lately on the subject of the Sangue
Christiani, the use of Christian blood in the Passover
rites. It has been stated again and again that the
Jews in the East, many of whom have fallen into
depraved and superstitious customs, consider that their
Passover sacrifice is not efficacious if there is not
added to the lamb's blood sprinkled on lintel and
doorpost, the blood of a newly slain Christian!
Certain it is that children, and even grown-up
persons, have mysteriously disappeared about Pass-
over-time, and never been seen again. A recent con-
vert from Judaism to Roman Catholicism has written
a book on the subject, making startling revelations.
Passing through a busy Jewish market I wandered
down to the north-western horn of this crescent city,
and climbing up some ruins I did not find much
difficulty in ascending to the top of the city wall, a
4.
: MOVE ON THERE.
89
little below the lighthouse. The view was picturesque
and characteristic. On one side was the city, with its
white flat-roofed houses, and great courtyards, in one
of which close to me were camels munching prickly
pear. Before me was the harbour, with the pier and
fort,* its strange boats and boatmen in gay clothing
pulling over the deep blue waters. Close beneath
me, under the walls, was a desolate sea-shore
stretching westwards, the fierce sun beating on
chocolate-coloured rocks and lazy wavelets.
At last I became aware that a strange shouting,
which had been going on for a few minutes, from a
military individual with a gun farther up the walls,
was meant for me. Evidently I had no business
there, and ought to come down. To satisfy him I
made a feint of descending, and disappeared behind
a projection.
After a reasonable time had elapsed I looked
out, and the sentinel was going the other way. In
three minutes I had scrambled down the walls on
to the seashore, and so had made an exit from
Tripoli without using the gates. This had evidently
been done before. I intended to encompass the
city after walking a little along the harbour.
Some slight excavations were being made here,
and, instead of wheelbarrows, small donkeys carried
* This fort is known among the Arabs as El Bordj Bou
Leilah, or, “Fort of One Night," from a tradition that it miracu-
lously arose between sunset and sunrise. It certainly appears
to have been erected in the dark.
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TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
baskets full of earth in a continuous stream.
Piles of earthenware near the pier were for sale―
huge oil jars and small water jugs, pointed at the
lower end. I often wanted to know why so much
of the Oriental ware lacked a flat base upon which
to stand, and since wandering in the deserts I
imagine the solution is there to be found, and that
it is because a pointed vessel will stand so much
more firmly than a flat-bottomed one in the sand.
Setting out to walk round the walls I passed along
the seashore, where an Arab was washing his clothes
in a salt-water pool, and turning the corner, left the
sea behind me. In the intense heat I moved inland
towards the Bab el Djedîd, more generally known as
the Jews' Gate-Bab el Yahoodi. The walls are a
great height here. White and glaring, they rise from
a broad space, which at this corner I should imagine
had been cleared intentionally, as the land seems
nowadays to be higher beyond it, perhaps owing to
débris from the city.
All alone, not a creature in sight, I sat down
on a hot stone and watched the ants rushing about,
while the sun glared down upon my fez, and fried
my hands and face. Soon an urchin, peering over
a mound at me, rushed off to bring his friends. I
moved on, and left the small fry in their picturesque
garments gazing in astonishment. Here is the Jews'
Gate, and away a mile or so to the south-west the
Jews' Cemetery.
A TÉETOTALLER'S BEER.
9r
·
Over the country are sprinkled white beers or
siniels-the former word being simply the generic
term for well, so often occurring in our Bible (as
Beer-sheba, etc.); the latter, sinieh, describing the
mode by which the water is brought up. I stood on
the steps of one of the white dellu, the wing-like stone
edifices between which the wheel works as the ox
or camel, descending the inclined plane, hauls up a
skin full of gushing water, which rushes over the land
along any little channel into which it is diverted by
the foot of the Arab. One is reminded of Moses'
promise, that in Palestine the Israelites would no
longer have to use such means of irrigation, for there
would be plenty of rain. It was not to be as the land
which they had left, "where," says he, "thou sowedst
thy seed and wateredst it with thy foot."
Close to the beer was a large circle spread over with
barley, and round and round moved a strange trio.
An ox in the centre, from whose mouth hung pieces
of barley stalk, as he enjoyed unmuzzled this treading
out of corn. To his horns a rope was attached, and
then fastened round a donkey's neck, who moved
alongside the ox, and still another donkey appendant
on the outside of the circle. These all moved round
and round, driven by a negro in white sheshyah, seriyah
(long shirt), and siruwall (loose trousers). He was.
followed by a chocolate youth with a rake, who moved
the barley as the others passed over it.
* Deut. xi. 10.
† Deut. xxv. 4.
·
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TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
In my white flannels I stood for a moment on
the steps of the sinieh, and then innocently hopped
down alongside the donkeys and ox. The latter had ·
been so busy munching his corn that he had not seen
the infidel before, and as I appeared in the midst,
donkeys and ox simultaneously fled, the negroes
chasing after them and shouting wildly. I sat down
on the stone steps and laughed most unfeelingly to
see the two young donkeys tearing away and drag-
ging the poor old bullock by the horns. Eventually
the swift-footed Soudânis secured the trio, and
brought them back, using unchoice words. When,
however, they saw me laughing, they joined in and
laughed heartily, showing their brilliant white teeth
good-naturedly.
Leaving my asinine friends, I passed the Bab
el Djedîd, and under the great walls moved on
towards the Bab el Fondouk, by which you may
enter the Bazaars, and outside of which was quite
a fair going on, camels grunting, Arabs selling
bread on trays, and a gathering of the strangest
costumes mixed up in Oriental confusion. There
were wild-looking Bedouins, Tripoline Moors, and
many negroes, while Turkish soldiers passed hand
in hand through the crowd. Here was a fondouk,
or caravanserai, where the beasts of burden lay
within a colonnaded enclosure, and their owners
squatted under the shade, cooking their provisions.
The fair was nearly over, as it was late in the after-
THE PIÈCE DE RÉSISTANCE.
93
noon, and some of the strange dark-skinned people
were striking their tents.
At this point there is quite an accretion of extra-
mural buildings, “foum el bab,” as they say, "outside
the gate." Rows of buildings extend along the sea
shore, which now stretches again before me. A little
distance eastwards is the corn-market, an open-air
enclosure, with nothing very striking about it; and
near are blacksmiths and cutlers established in fair-
sized shops. I bargained with one Moor for some
long curved daggers, and bore them home with me.
The coinage of Tripoli is not encouraging to the
simple-minded traveller, who seems bound to lose on
all occasions. The piastre seems the pièce de résistance.
One hundred and twenty-eight are given you for a
sovereign, one hundred and seventeen equal a Turkish
pound, and twenty equal a mahhboob. But the
Sicilian dollar, the Maria Theresa, and the Austrian
florin are a few of the many coins which float in
the financial atmosphere, and which one receives as
change. If you are swift in your calculations, and
wish to make a rapid fortune, by all means set up
as a money-changer in Tripoli, and then look out for
Englishmen.
A pleasant-looking Moor ambling into the city on
his brisk donkey carried a sprig of orange-blossom
over his right ear beneath his sheshya. He smilingly
broke it in two and handed me a piece with which to
deck myself.
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TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
About six years ago there was an Englishman
staying at Tripoli who used to come in from his
rides in the Mesheyah bearing boughs of orange-
blossom. Oddly enough, he was one of those who
held mothers-in-law up to ridicule, and even wrote
that when he was inquired of concerning a friend he
became very sad, not because the friend was dead,
but married. Six years pass away, and I am at
Tripoli. "How is * * *?” asks every one, and I try
to look sad in my turn. The orange-blossom recalls
a scene in which I took part, and the warning is—
be careful in writing of mothers-in-law. They do
not forget.
I entered the city by the Bab el Mesheyah, close
to the Borj, and almost immediately below the Bab
el Fondouk. (The fourth gate of the city opens on
to the harbour, the Bab el Bahr, or Sea Gate.)
From the roof of the Locanda, there was an
interesting view over the flat roofs of the city.
Stepping out through a window, I strolled about,
not thinking much of where I was going, and it
seems I was walking over some one else's house,
the roofs all joining one to another. Looking down
into a courtyard I beheld a gay scene, a picturesque
group of Tripolitan houris, who were playing and
singing, a black slave sitting by. It was really a
picture-the bright dresses, the jewellery, the hand-
some faces and dark eyes. Then came a scream,
and a seizing of veils and a covering of faces, a
A HAREM.
95
rushing hither and thither, exclamations of horror
and anger, as they caught sight of the Roumi strolling
along the roof. I was sorry to have intruded, and
returned to the Locanda to luncheon.
In a few moments the black Gharian cook, Muham-
med ben Ali, came rushing in in a fright, his white
teeth displayed as he rattled away at a tremendous
rate. Every one was excited; it might cause a rising
against the Europeans; the privacy of harêm life had
been invaded! Who was it? what had been done?
Then I confessed that I was the guilty person, but
had erred in sheer ignorance, and that I was very
hungry, and would dearly like some kous-kous-óo.
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TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY
1
CHAPTER X.
IN THE SAHARA.
A cavalcade―The steed of the Prophet-Al Borâc's trappings
-His voice-Through the Mesheyah-The desert-Its
colour-Bedouin and Bindiggah-Hubz-Ain Zhara-Up
a Nuklah—Palmam qui meruit ferat-Trot to Tripoli—Al
Borac's last.
"WE are just off to the desert," I hurriedly added
as a postscript to my letter home one afternoon, and
then rushed along to Mr. Grace's, where it seemed as
if half the donkeys in Tripoli were assembled and
showing off their voices.
It would be about three o'clock in the after-
noon, when, under the blazing sun, our cavalcade of
seven quadrupeds, some equine, some asinine, swept
through the Bab el Fondouk, a European caravan
on its way to the oasis, Ain Zhara, far away in
the Sahara. This was the spot whence Barth set
off in March, 1850, on his great travels, and where, in
August, 1855, he met Mr. Reade on his joyful return ;
the oasis where Miss Tinne parted with her friends as
she set off to penetrate the land of the Twarigs; and
1
A TRIP FROM TRIPOLI.
97
where many a great traveller has rested and gathered
together his forces on the first stage of his journey.
A splendid ass, whom, after the winged steed of
the Prophet, I named Al Borac, bore my twenty-
seven okes, while Mr. Grace, who is a substantial
weight, was on a smaller donkey. Between Captain
Catelli's long legs promenaded a third specimen of
the Asinus Tripolitanus, while Signor Morino was
mounted upon the back of a fourth energetic and
sure-footed quadruped.
The housings and trappings of our brave steeds are
simplicity itself. A species of rough sack, stuffed
with something softer than hobnails, is rudely fastened
on the back of each donkey; a piece of rope is passed
loosely over this sack, to either end of which rope is
attached a stirrup. It is all delightfully simple; and
if by chance a sudden movement causes you to lean
any undue weight upon one stirrup, down it goes and
up comes the other until your knee is near your chin,
a position which is inconvenient as well as undignified
when one is at full gallop.
Donkeys and horses take no notice of the bit on
this continent excepting as a means of stoppage. You
press the reins upon the opposite side of the neck when
you wish to turn, but donkeys are sometimes stubborn.
Our party consisted of four donquestrians, and three
of our friends on Arab horses, viz. the Emir, M.
Wittstein, and a German friend from the Locanda.
Since the days of Roman triumphs in the Urbs
H
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TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
Tripolitana surely such a brave display had not
astounded the son of the desert.
Away we go, kicking up the dust, accompanied by
Jack and Joe, our English dogs, who strike terror into
the hearts of the venerable Moors, standing aside for
fear of pollution and hydrophobia. Through the
bazaars, and between the sentinels at the white city
gates, we canter out under the scorching sun. Now
through the Mesheyah, with its endless gardens, its
olive yards and wells and prickly pear hedges, and its
lovely groves of palm-trees, till at last, after about
four miles, a halt is called as we approach the verge
of the desert, that we may collect our scattered forces,
fasten up our girths, arrange our stirrups, etc., and we
gather under the delicious shade of a great mulberry-
tree near an Arab encampment.
My long-eared friend, Al Borâc, is a regular brick.
I had my eye on him from the first, and felt perfectly
grateful when Mr. Grace suggested that I should take
him as my steed. Having found out now how to
“wind him up" at intervals, he ambles and gallops
deliciously, nearly always leading the whole caravan.
He is a pugnacious animal, often trying to get near
the other donkeys and deliver a side kick at their
shins. I had to discourage him in this practice by
the "argumentum ad asinum."
He had a mellifluous voice, which I think would
completely drown the most determined efforts of any
single camel or donkey in Tripoli. He commenced
BORRIE MUSICAL.
99
with a sort of overture, or first movement, in a major
key, somewhere below the larynx. This communi-
cated a tremulous motion to the saddle and the rider.
Then stretching out his neck and head in one straight
line, with his ears well back, he commenced an adagio
and forte movement, going through the whole chro-
matic scale, and eventually changing to a minor key,
until with a sotto voce finale he brought to an end
the song he loved so well.
Here we are, then, on the edge of the desert. It
commences so abruptly that twenty yards one way
one is in the midst of the burning sand which extends
uninterruptedly to the distant horizon, the veritable
Sahara; twenty yards the other way and you are
under the shade of the palm, the olive, the caroub, in
the midst of the garden of the Mesheyah.
All girths being tightened, in five minutes Jack
and Joe, barking wildly, scamper over the rosy yellow
sand, followed by our detachment
detachment of European
cavalry representing England, Ireland, Switzerland,
Germany, and Italy, and sending the light dust flying
as the strong breezes catch it up from the feet of our
energetic steeds and whirl it away in small clouds.
I call the colour of the desert rosy yellow; I can
think of no more exact indication of its strange tint.
Those who saw in the Academy the other year Mr.
Goodall's exquisite little picture, "Crossing the
Desert," will see how difficult it is to convey by words
an idea of the colour of the bright Sahara sand.
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TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
A few miles over the undulating desert and the
feeling of loneliness begins to come over one.
Not a
sign of anything but sand. Sand everywhere, blazing
yellow sandhills stretching for miles and miles, con-
stantly changing their shape as the breeze whirls the
sand along and dashes it into one's face and teeth.
The Emir and I gallop on a mile or so ahead of
the others, and his Arab outstripping Al Borâc the
Winged One, he again passes a couple of miles away,
diminishing at last to a black speck on the desert, so
that I and the Steed of the Prophet are left alone--
just what we longed for.
Alone on the desert, even for a few minutes, what
a sensation! I dismounted and walked over the
burning sand, leading my faithful donkey by the
bridle. Yellow, golden yellow, orange yellow, to rosy
yellow, is the vast glaring expanse; here and there
the sand gives way to stones, or a hard track is seen
where the feet of camels have trodden down the
sand. Now and then some little vegetation is seen,
but very little-a slight tuft of halfa, or a tamarisk
bush.
Far away over the waste I see some camels
scattered over the desert, trying to find a meal
amidst the very scanty vegetation; and beginning to
count them I find there are about a hundred and
twenty in all. But what is that figure on yonder
sandhill, with a long thing sticking out over his
shoulder? He is a Bedouin in charge of the camels.
BEDOUIN AND BACKSHEESH.
ΙΟΙ
But here is another whom I had not seen before,
striding across to me gun in hand. He does not
seem to know that I have friends close behind; and
fierce enough he looks, his face burnt to a dirty dark
brown, his baracan over his head, and in his hand
the long-barrelled Arab gun, the bindiggah.
He intercepts me, and in impolite tones begins an
harangue in Arabic, in which he demands "hubz"
again and again. I told him I did not carry them
with me; being quite uncertain whether it was "the
antibilious pills" which celebrated travellers always
carry in their boots that he wanted, or a pocket.
edition of Webster's pronouncing dictionary. He
became restive and rather impudent in his tone, and
suggestively handled his bindiggah. For fear Al
Borâc might become nervous I casually let my white
flannel jacket fly back, and his eyes instantly fixed
themselves upon a small revolver in my leathern belt.
How the conversation might have terminated I
don't quite know, but just then our party appeared
in sight, and my friend the Bedouin thought it wise
to depart, continuing his grumbling on the “hubz'
subject. It was bread he was asking for, though that
was another way of asking for money. Mr. Grace
told him there were plenty of bakers' shops in
Tripoli. A Bedouin loses all his romance upon a
near approach. He becomes dreadfully practical and
very dirty.
Leaving the Sons of the Desert and their camels,
102
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
we have a good gallop together, and I could not help
breaking into song-
"From the desert I come to thee,
On Al Borac shod with fire,
And the winds are left behind,
In the speed of my desire.”
After about three hours' journey on the heavy
sand we approach the oasis of Ain Zhara, where a
spring bursts up so freely that it creates a species of
marsh, and round it some sort of cultivation is carried
on by the Arabs, living in their black goat-hair tents,
and here their camels graze on the brushwood growing
around. The chief feature, however, is the group of
lovely palm trees clustered together close to a mound
of fine sand, and towards these palms we urge our
steeds.
Out from the black tents flies a whole pack of
white Arab curs, at first sight resembling the
Esquimaux dogs we are accustomed to see at home.
On they rushed, and forward went Jack and Joe,
like true English dogs, to conquer or to die. A
fierce encounter was imminent, when Mr. Grace slid
off his small donkey and lashed the Arab dogs so
effectually with his whip that the foe was vanquished.
We rode on to the palms, and Signor Catelli and
I ascended the conical hill of red sand on the way.
My saddle worked aft and down Al Borâc's back,
the ascent was so steep. I jumped off in time, and
poor Borrie and I struggled up through the soft sand,
THE TRIPOLITAN MAHDI.
103
sinking half-way up to the knees, while the saddle
descended to his heels. Having replaced it, we
reached the summit, and fired a resounding salute,
which roused some of the Arabs.
We encamped under the palms, fastening up our
seven quadrupeds to the trees. A fearful amount of
fun went on in different languages-French, Arabic,
Italian, and English, a good deal of the fun centring
around our friend the Emir, who understood all.
We were beneath the same graceful palm-trees that
waved above Miss Tinne and other travellers on the
first night of their long journeys, and the desert
around us was the same which reaches to the oasis at
Djardub, where the rival Mahdi is waiting his time.*
(C
*
* I would here venture to quote a sentence or two occurring
in a lecture I was invited to give before the Literary and
Philosophical Society of Newcastle-upon-Tyne. It is extracted
from the report in the local papers. “At Djardub, twenty-two
"days south of Ben Ghazi, in Tripoli, is the powerful Zaouia of
"Es Senoussi, where, surrounded, we are told, by nearly a
"thousand of his followers, and receiving crowds of adoring
pilgrims, the rival Mahdi, Muhammed es Senoussi, lives in
a magnificent building, amidst groves and palm trees. The
"people of Tripoli told him (Mr. Boddy), as Mr. Broadley tells
us (in the Pall Mall Gazette and Tunis, Fast and Present'),
"that from the interior caravans of costly presents come to the
great saint, and arms and ammunition are accumulating at
"Djardub. A great French traveller describes the Senoussian
"Messiah as a 'very fiend for the Christians,' infecting the whole
Sahara with a thorough hatred of the so-called infidel, which
"is steadily increasing. Muhammed es Senoussi is forty-one
"6 years of age, and has one arm longer than the other; this
"peculiarity especially qualifying him to fulfil a particular ·
66
104
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
While we were resting I became fired with an un-
extinguishable ambition to bring down some palm
branches which were waving above us. Taking off my
boots and socks, I attacked a tall nuklah waving over
"prophetic description of the Muhammedan Messiah. Whether
"or no the two Mahdis will coalesce remains to be seen. If
"they do their power will be enormous, for in every town in
"North Africa there are Mokaddem or Vicars of one of the
(C
two confraternities they represent, and often a large number
"of followers. They hope to drive out the Câfer, the dog of an
"infidel, from Dar-ul-Islam. If the two Mahdis could but be
"persuaded to oppose one another, then Western civilization
"might hope once more to advance in the lands of the
Crescent."
Since these words were spoken (December, 1883) the Mahdi
of the Soudân has made advances to the Mahdi of the Djardub ;
but Muhammed es Senoussi will have nothing to say to Achmet
Muhammed, and no doubt is indignant that the Soudân rising
should have taken place and interfered with his own plans.
Herr Nachtigal, whose acquaintance I made at Tunis, has
boldly visited the Senoussian Mahdi in his palace at the Siva
Oasis. I would quote the remarks of the special correspondent
of the Standard (October 8, 1884), who has since seen Dr.
Nachtigal. Speaking of the Mahdi of the Soudân, he says, " He
"has now addressed a letter to the celebrated Sheikh Senoussi
"in Tripoli, offering him for his moral support the highest
religious rank in Egypt after the Mahdi has conquered that
country. In this connection I may mention a remark I heard
some months ago from Dr. Nachtigal, late German Consul at
Tunis. Some time before he had been with the Mahdi Sidi
Senoussi, the celebrated chief of the Senoussi Brotherhood at
Djardub and the Siva Oasis, whose moral influence extends far
"and wide over that part of Africa. In speaking with Dr.
"Nachtigal of the so-called Mahdi, Sidi Senoussi contemptuously
“remarked, 'What have I to do with this Fakir from Dongola?
"Am I not myself a Mahdi if I choose?' He alluded to the
"title of Mahdi, which is hereditary in his family."
UP A PALM TREE.
105
1
us, and climbed up about seven yards, but it cut my
bare feet so much that I had to give in and descend.
I did not like being beaten, and loosing the stirrup
leathers from one of the horses, I made them into a
circular band to pass behind my back and round the
palm in Arab fashion. Then I commenced in real
earnest to climb a rougher palm, this time with my
boots on, and got on famously until about ten feet
from the top, where I hopelessly stuck, as it got
smoother and smoother. In my boots I could get
no farther; I managed, however, to unlace them and
let them drop to the ground, climbing up with my
socks on, which I literally cut to pieces before I got
down again.
Coraggio," cries Captain Catelli; and after a
few desperate efforts, in which I scraped more skin
than I could spare from off my arms and breast,
at last I succeeded in getting up and breaking off
two branches, which I dropped on the sands below.
At last I arrived once more on the ground in safety,
though very sore and bleeding, and the reader may
justly remark that the whole proceeding was a trifle
foolish and that I deserved to get scratched.
"Palmam qui meruit ferat" seemed too high-
flown a motto for me to adopt, so I did not bear my
palms home, yet the "winged steed" was decorated
with them. They were stuck in his girths, one on
each side, and trailed behind, sticking out eight or
ten feet as they swept up the sand of the desert on
106
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
our homeward march. We galloped now by another
track towards the great oasis of the Mesheyah, as we
crossed the sands of the desert passing some Arabs
from the interior patiently trudging along, driving
their camels laden with huge burdens of esparto grass.
It was getting dusk as we entered the gardens of
the Tripolitan oasis and cantered through the Arab
villages, where every one was seated outside, or lying
on the road wrapped in the white baracan. The
Mueddins were chanting their long wailing cry,
Allah il Allah! Our Lord Muhammed is the
Prophet of God. O come, all ye Faithful, come, come
to prayer."
By the roadside are huge pits digged and graven,
dangerous indeed to the unwary; they are empty
granaries, some twenty and thirty feet deep, and
reach sometimes nearly to the middle of the road.
Al Borac avoided these carefully, and I trusted
him implicitly. I find that in donkey riding, as in
other things, it is better to follow custom. The cus-
tom is to ride bareback, taking one's seat well aft,
so that an evil and ill-disposed ass has no chance of
lifting his hind legs to kick. My saddle coming
loose on the way home, I rode bareback, discarding
the stirrups, and found it comparatively comfortable.
One more song of triumph from Al Borâc's power-
ful lungs as he lifted his nose on high and made an
impolite grimace, and then we trotted into Tripoli by
the Bab el Mesheyah, sunburnt and sleepy.
•
FROM SVINGE TO BORJ.
107
CHAPTER XI.
VISIT TO THE PASHA OF TRIPOLI AND TO THE
BLACK VILLAGE.
A dish of svinge-H.E. Achmet Rassim Pasha-The nuklah
again-Story of Moslem tree-felling-Marriage and pru-
dence-The Pasha and the murderers-Visit to negro
village-Beehives-Black babies-Ethiopian salutation—
Regrets and dreams.
Svinge is a very delectable Arab dish. It is made of
honey and flour; and, when it comes from the hands
of El Hadji Abdullah ben Said el Khartoumi, it
gains in attractiveness.
I was discussing such a dish at breakfast one
morning on the recommendation of Mr. Grace, at
whose hospitable board I was sitting, when the black
servant brought a note from the Consulate for me,
a Cavasse waiting outside for an answer.
Mr. Hay
asked me in the letter to go with him that morning
to the Borj to be received by his Excellency Achmet
Rassim Pasha.
Finishing my svinge, I repaired to the Locanda,
to change from white to black-from a semi-Turkish
108
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
[
wanderer in white flannel and red sheshya to a black-
cylindered, tail-coated, white-collared European. And
thus attired I solemnly followed Muhammed the Ca-
vasse as he preceded the Roumi Imaum to the British
Consulate.
The Turkish Governor-general of the Vilayet of
Tripoli, Achmet or Hamed Rassim Pasha, is one of
the most liberal-minded of Oriental officials, probably
owing in some measure to his having received a
Western education. He speaks French perfectly,
having been brought up in Paris, and if anything his
ideas are a little too Occidental and not sufficiently
Oriental to please the Porte.
Achmet Rassim has never held a portfolio at
Constantinople, but that he is highly valued by the
Sultan is evident from his appointment as Governor-
general of Tripoli at a time when alarming rumours
were circulating, and when France was advancing her
policy of annexation in the neighbouring regency of
Tunis.
The Pasha is now an elderly man, and he justly
pleaded his age as an excuse when this honour
was thrust upon him. His wish had been to end
his days in his kiosk on the Bosphorus, where he
might have such friends as he chose, without being
fettered by the restraints of diplomacy and official
etiquette.
Accompanying Mr. Hay and following one of
the fine-looking black servants of the Consulate, we
THE PASHA OF MANY TALES.
109
proceeded to the castle, here called the Borj (in Tunis
the Kasbah.) A large number of the Moors respect-
fully saluted our consul as we passed through the
narrow streets. At the gate of the Borj up went the
Martini-Henris as the sentries saluted, and we passed
into the quaint, rambling old building.
His Excellency was seated in a pleasant room
containing European furniture and a divan in
the window recess covered with red cloth. From
this window we could see the blue waters of the
harbour and the shipping. The Pasha, dressed in
European costume, a Turkish fez on his head, came
forward to meet us as we entered, and courteously
waved us to chairs. Turbaned servants noiselessly
handed round coffee in tiny cups of exquisite porce-
lain, and presented us with cigarettes and sulphurous
matches. This is the act of hospitality immediately
shown to all callers in an Eastern country.
The Pasha took a pleasant interest in my visit
to Tripoli, and carefully inquired as to all I had
seen or intended to see. One thing above all else
made an impression upon him; that was my climbing
the palm tree at Ain Zhara. Again and again he
returned to this subject. "But why did you climb
the nuklah? If it had been necessary, if it had been
a duty, then it could be understood, but why endanger
life for no purpose?"
!
It was explained (but without much apparent
effect) that Englishmen when young are often trained
:
110
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
T
in athletics, and enjoy the letting off of their super-
fluous energy in climbing or other active exercises.
As a commentary no doubt upon my proceedings
at Ain Zhara, the Pasha told us a story of a young
Turk who wished to make himself notorious, and
went one day into the woods with an axe, and cut
down all the trees he could, in the style of a certain
Frankish Vizier. In the evening he returned to the
village with his trees on a cart, and a crier going
before, crying out, "Behold the trees that Ali Ben
Mustapha has cut down; yet not in his own power,
but with the aid of Allah."
Later on in our conversation his Excellency
inquired if I were married, and when he heard that
I was still untrammelled, he replied, "Ah, he would
be more prudent if he had a wife!" The Pasha is,
I believe, by this rule four times as prudent as any
moderately married Englishman.
Achmet Rassim recounted an adventure he had
once had when in his younger days he was sent to a
savage tribe to arrest some murderers. He went up
to the mountains without military escort and un-
armed. There he was met by some of the fierce
natives, who demanded whither he was going, and
tried to stop him by threats. He said he had come
to see their chief, and if they touched him they
would all be executed, and that he had power of life
and death over them all. They were completely
cowed, and took him to their sheikh. Achmet
.A PALM-LEAF VILLAGE.
111
Rassim had the murderers put to death in his sight.
The Pasha said he was calm when in great danger,
but that afterwards he could not sleep.
His Excellency is apparently about sixty years of
age, and wears a short grey beard and a moustache.
During our visit he held in his right hand, like a good
Mussulman, the rosary of beads used among Muham-
medans to count ejaculatory prayers. In his left
he held his cigarette when he was speaking. He
shook hands with us as we bowed ourselves out of
his presence, and pleasantly wished me " Bon voyage."
The Pasha is liberally minded towards the
Christian religion, but strongly denounces human
mediation between the creature and his Creator.
May the Ottoman Government be blessed with many
an Achmet Rassim!
The Emir and I visited some of the Pasha's black
subjects, who live a mile and a half out of Tripoli,
in a native village.
None of my Oriental experiences have left a more
pleasant recollection than those at this "kraal," as it
would be called in Southern Africa, and my brief
friendship with the dark bronze inmates of these
beehive huts within the enclosure of the Black
Village. Here are gathered dark-skinned people,
from chocolate to black-inhabitants of the Soudân,
people from Fezzan, Mourzouk, Ghadames, and even
from the far-distant West Coast.
One is always struck in Tripoli with the large
112
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
proportion of black faces in the streets, and here one
sees the origin of it, for these negroes are constantly
in the town of Tripoli.
The Emir and I walked out to this encampment,
which is on a sandy slope between the palms and the
sea shore. Hundreds of dzriba, as these bamboo
and palm-leaf wigwams are called, filled a great
enclosure, just as one sees them in pictures of Central
Africa. The chocolate inmates were glad to see us,
and as they could talk a little Arabic we managed to
interchange our thoughts.
Happy, merry people are these fine dark-skinned
negroes, ever showing their pearly white teeth-such
teeth as no dentist with sumptuous surroundings,
splendid instruments, and magnificent fees could ever
hope to equal.
Passing within the high palisading of bamboo
work, we find on all sides funny little round huts of
bamboo and palm, with a hole at one side to creep in
by. On entering one we find it very cosy, about ten
feet across and six feet high in the centre, where it
is supported by a stout bamboo. Insect life, of
course, has a luxuriant time of it, and various species
of creeping and jumping creatures are abundant.
Among the creeping things may be mentioned the
gutta-percha babies, which are black from their birth-
day onwards. Having never handled a black baby
before this struck one as remarkable, though of course
it is very natural, absurdly natural.
UNDISGUISED grace.
113
If one
Some of the men are grand fellows.
obtains one's idea of the negro from the degraded
characters found in Northern climes, half civilized,
entirely demoralized, and clad in our uncomfortable
and unsuitable garments, then one is apt to think
badly of the race. But see him at home under an
African sun, gracefully clad in some bright red-and-
white material, only enough to make him look
picturesque, but not sufficient to hide his splendid
limbs; see the natural grace with which he does
everything, and then you cannot help admiring him.
Here is a young couple sitting beside their bee-
hive, the wife with a tiny baby in her lap, and a small
india-rubber boy peeping over her shoulder at us,
half afraid, half astonished. A piece of money over-
comes all bashfulness, and soon he has hold of my
hand, while his parents are equally delighted. The
mother has her frizzy hair arranged in a fringe of
corkscrewy ringlets, which hang round her dark bronze
forehead in Fijian fashion; and huge earrings, of
about five inches in diameter and made of silver, are
partly suspended from her ears, and partly from her
black frizzy hair. She has a bright intelligent face,
bronze skin, and well-developed broadly spreading
nose.
Outside another hut we found several women
pounding grain in large wooden basins; one middle-
aged dame full of fun as she banged the contents of
the bowl before her.
I
114
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
We noticed in another part of the village some
pleasant-looking women, with deep tattoo-marks upon
their foreheads, and found it was the distinguishing
sign of the tribe to which they belonged, near the
West Coast. We asked what brought them so far
from their home, and they replied, "Money." They
were daughters of a chief, and had been sold as slaves,
and then had escaped and made their way to Tripoli.
They had all the ease and self-possession of ladies of
position; wonderful dignity, and a becoming simplicity
in their manner.
The salutation upon our departure was character-
istically Oriental. A chocolate hand was extended,
which I expected to shake, but as we offered our
hand in return it was only slightly touched, with a
profound reverence, by finger-tips. The hand which
had touched ours was first pressed to its owner's lips,
then the forehead was solemnly touched (the head
being inclined), and finally the black hand was laid
upon the heart.
These negroes are nearly all Muhammedans, and
in the centre of their village is the hut of a black
Marabout, who goes about with a white beard, a black
face, and a green flag-a droll-looking old "Christy
minstrel," who has, I am told, perfect command over
his coloured troupe.
I left the village with some regrets, and often still
I see those round beehive huts, with the little gutta-
percha babies crawling in and out of the hole where
A BLACK PARADISE.
115
you expect the bees to appear; I close my eyes, and
the palm trees are waving around that oddest of
villages, their graceful branches shivering in the breeze;
I hear the merry laughter as those splendid teeth part
so good-naturedly; the swarthy graceful forms, the
bright light dresses, the happy faces baking under
that burning sun,
"Where the women all work for fear the men beat,
Where there's legmi to drink, and kuss-kuss to eat,
And the camels they never cease groaning
As the sun beats down on the sand."
116
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
$
CHAPTER XII.
A SUNDAY IN TRIPOLI.
Sunday observance-Three sabbaths-English service-Bap-
tisms-Florence Mary and Macdonald Nugent-The upper
room-The Eleven-Christianity and Muhammedanism—
Father Angelo-Madame Gagliuffi-Sunday thoughts.
To rise on Sunday morning and find everything going
on exactly as on all other days seems at first very
strange to an Englishman. The swarthy porters
bearing their huge burdens along the narrow streets,
the cries of the Arabs, the dusky bakers shovelling
the loaves out of their deep ovens, the bazaars busy
and noisy, the picturesque crowds hurrying hither and
thither in the hot sun-all this is very un-Sunday-
like, and must in time affect the reverent ideas almost
naturally implanted in English minds.
Three Sundays in every week-Friday, the Mus-
sulman; Saturday, the Jewish; and Sunday, the
Christian; this must weaken the observance of any
one day. The result is, that on Friday one sees
the Moors in their best clothes streaming into the
TWO BAPTISMS IN TRIPOLI.
117
mosques, but the bazaars seem to be open as usual.
On Saturday there is less business, for the Jews, who
hold most of the money, strictly refuse to negotiate.
On Sunday less outward observance is to be seen,
though the Maltese attend the Roman Catholic church
in large numbers, and the few English residents meet
at the Consulate in the morning, where the Church
service is read.
It was a long time since an English clergyman
had been at Tripoli on Sunday, and all seemed to
be pleased at the prospect of our having service,
especially as two little English babies were to be
baptized. The service was to be held at Mr. Grace's
house, the Consul-general being temporarily a bachelor.
His family were in Europe.
It was a novel feeling to have for an apparitor a
splendid black fellow in flowing drapery, while another
solemn, turbaned Muhammedan stood at the door of
the drawing-room which was to-day to be our church.
In the presence of most of the English inhabitants
I baptized “Florence Mary" Grace, and "Macdonald
Nugent" Crabtree, the latter the son of the telegraphic
manager at Tripoli, the former the pretty blue-eyed
daughter of my kind friends the Graces. All the
English residents were present at our morning service,
which was held afterwards. Madame Gagliuffi at the
harmonium accompanied the hymns, and every one
helped to make it a hearty service.
The windows of our upper room looked into
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TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
the narrow street, and of course were open.
Once or
twice, as we were singing the glorious old hymns,
"Rock of Ages," or "Nearer, my God, to Thee,” I
thought I heard a shout of derision or disgust from
the Arabs in the street below. Possibly this may
not really have been the nature of the noise, for
the Moors seem to have a strange way of shouting
at all times, instead of speaking. Though all the
English residents were present, of course our congre-
gation was small. There were but "eleven in the
upper room." The number and the place suggested
to one's thoughts the meeting in another Oriental
city, where eleven were gathered also in an upper
room, the doors being shut for fear of the Jews.
Missionary efforts among the Muhammedans are
of a most disheartening character, and so far have not
been attended with any palpable results. North
Africa, from Alexandria to the Straits of Gibraltar,
was at one time Christian. The Church in the
seventh century was failing as the Donatist schism
sapped its strength. Then came waves of fierce
Moslem fanaticism, deluging the country with blood,
carrying the religion of the camel-driver of Mecca
at the edge of the scimitar, until Christianity was
driven back into Europe.
At the present there are no native Christians in
North Africa save the Coptic Church in Egypt; and
no English missionaries along the whole of Algeria,
Tunis, and Tripoli. The few Roman Catholic mis-
THOUGHTS ON. MUHAMMEDANISM.
119
sions I am told make no headway, though they
succeed in cultivating friendly relations with the
natives by acts of kindness, such as supplying
medicine and advice to those who are ill, but they
make few converts. When in this wide world there
are so many fields far more promising, where the
seed brings forth sixty and a hundred fold, does it
not sometimes seem like a misdirection of spiritual
energy to attempt to sow on hardened soil?
The Muhammedan religion owes all its higher
morality to the pure Gospel of Him whom Mu-
hammed certainly recognized, but as a prophet only.
Part of its creed is avowed hatred of the infidel, that
is, of every one who is not a Muhammedan. Then
it is much easier to be a good Muhammedan than
a good Christian. With the Moslem outward observ-
ance is sufficient to win for him a sensuous heaven.
His chief duties are a recitation ofttimes of the
creed, "God is God, and Muhammed is his prophet,"
a journey to Mecca, observance of the five hours of
prayer, fasting during the daytime in the month
Rhamadan (when the Korân came down from
heaven), and hatred of idolatry and of Jews and
Christians.
This surely is less difficult than the strait gate
and narrow way of the pure religion of the Nazarene.
It is infinitely harder to be forgiving on all occasions,
to love our fellow-men as much as ourselves, to be
perfectly honest, perfectly pure, perfectly truthful, to
1 20
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
seek not self but the welfare of others, and when
all is done humbly to feel that we are unprofitable
servants, and must trust in an all-powerful Mediator.
The secret of success in the aggressive propaganda
of Islamism lies, I think, in the fact that a mere tacit
consent is required of the converts, without any
thorough knowledge of the doctrines they embrace.
They give up their idols of wood and stone, and must
worship the one God of heaven and earth; but they
are allowed to keep their wives (that is, four), and
others not bearing that name; they are encouraged
to fight for the Faith in the name of the Prophet,
and so dying they are received by dark-eyed houris
in Paradise.
With my friend the Emir I went on Sunday after-
noon to see the padre prefetto, Father Angelo di Sant'
Agata. Religious differences are much diminished in
the presence of a common adversary and in a distant
country, while a conscientious servant of his Master,
like Father Angelo, is deserving of all respect, even
from those who look at the Truth from a different
standpoint. Vespers were just over as we entered the
courtyard, out of which the church and other buildings
open. The Maltese congregation was passing out,
men, women, and children, all most respectably dressed.
The church is rather small, and is about to be re-
placed by a larger building. We went up a flight
of steps out of the court to the padre's house, and
were shown into a pleasant room with framed photo-
FATHER ANGELO.
121
graphs of familiar Italian towns upon the walls, and
tastefully furnished in European fashion.
In a few moments the padre entered. He was
fairly tall, with a long grey beard, and dressed in the
Franciscan habit. Few faces have I ever seen where
kindliness, honesty, and determination were more
pleasantly stamped. For an hour or so we conversed
on many subjects: about England, Manning, New-
man, our new Archbishop, and even of Bradlaugh, of
the Sangue Christiani, of his travelling experiences,
and of my own. The father has travelled among
the natives of the interior, in Fezzan, and along to
Ben Ghazi, and has always received kindness. He
has an hospital here in Tripoli, open to all comers;
and the stories of his kindness travelling before
prepared for him a warm reception from the negroes
of the interior.
After a very pleasant interview we left the kind
old padre and went to the Belgian Consulate.
Madame Gagliuffi (once Miss Dickson) had enjoyed
our little service in the morning very much, and by
her kind expressions made me feel more than repaid
for anything I had done or said. M. Gagliuffi was
once our vice-consul at Mourzouk, and in his house
are many quaint presents from chiefs of different
African tribes. Madame Gagliuffi gave me a souvenir
-some African music harmonized by her brother.
In the quiet of my room in the Locanda that night,
I joined with friends at home in our common worship,
122
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
returning also hearty thanks for the kindness I re-
ceived in a strange land. The sunlight that had
long died away at Tripoli was shining in at the
western windows of churches far away to the North,
and familiar words seemed to echo across land and
sea.
"We thank Thee that Thy Church unsleeping,
While earth rolls onward into light,
Through all the world Her watch is keeping,
And rests not now by day or night.
"As o'er each continent and island
The dawn leads on another day,
The voice of prayer is never silent,
Nor dies the strain of praise away."
GOOD-BYE TO TRIFOLI.
123
CHAPTER XIII.
THE LESSER SYRTIS.
The last of Tripoli—Greater and Lesser Syrtis-Acts xxvii. 17
-Arab passengers on the Abd-el-Kadr-Lotophagitis-
Lotos-eaters Why melancholy-Homt-es-Souk - Bony
pyramid-Ghabes-Saharan canal-French army chaplain
----Père Hyacinthe-The Salvation Army.
IN passing from the Pashalik of Tripoli to the
Regency of Tunisia the readiest mode of transit is
found in some of the Italian or French coasting
steamers.
My journey towards the "Holy City" commences
now in real earnest, as, with many regrets, I part from
my Tripolitan friends on the deck of the Abd-el-Kadr.
The engine-room bells ring, the propeller churns
the dark blue waves as we steam round the great
white ironclad from Constantinople, one of the three
Turkish men-of-war which now guard the harbour of
Tarabolos Gharb.
We leave the town of Tripoli behind us, the
curious ships in the harbour, the minarets and the
white houses bathing in the sun, and the palm groves
stretching far away to the east. Yonder we see the
124
10 KAIRWẪN THE HOLY.
domed Marabouts and the English cemetery standing
out against the dark green nuklah and the red cliffs.
Slowly we pass round the half-sunken rocks;
leaving a white track behind us, we steam through
the deep blue water on our northward course, which
lies through the gulf known as the Lesser Syrtis.
In Acts xxvii. 17 we read in the original and in
the Revised Version that the sailors on St. Paul's
ship, during the prevalence of the gale from the
E.N.E. which first burst upon them from the high
land of Crete, fearing lest they should be cast upon
the "Syrtis" (A.V., quicksands):
“φοβούμενοί μὴ εἰς τὴν Σὺρτιν ἐκπέσωσι”
lowered the gear and so were driven. This is the
Greater Syrtis between Tripoli and Benghazi. We
are now sailing in the Lesser Syrtis, which lies more
to the north-west.
On board the Abd-el-Kadr we have a number
of Tunisian Arabs and some Arab Jews, all crouching
near the forecastle, having taken deck-passages. An
elderly female Mughrebi rushes up to me and kisses
my hand enthusiastically. I was somewhat unprepared
for this exhibition of maternal affection, and did not
perhaps reciprocate it enthusiastically. The Abd-el-
Kadr is a fine boat of the Cie. Gen. Transatlantique,
a counterpart of the Ville de Rome, and its com-
mandant, Captain Holly, a pleasant Frenchman, whose
happy face suggests another initial letter to his name.
At seven next morning, the air very heavy and
LOTOS-EATERS.
125
close, we lie at anchor off the Insula Lotophagorum,
the veritable island of the Lotos-eaters.
“All round the coast the languid air did swim,
Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.”
This just describes the atmosphere to-day as we
lay off Lotophagitis. This island of Djerbah, in
Lesser Syrtis, has been celebrated from classic times.
It is the Meninx of Pliny,* and hither Ulysses came
as he returned from the Trojan war. Of its inhabi-
tants Homer tells us that they are
"Not prone to ill, not strange to foreign guests,
They eat, they drink, and nature gives the feast.
The trees around them all their fruit produce,
Lotus the name; divine nectarious juice
(Thence called Lotophagi) which whoso tastes
Insatiate riots in the sweet repasts,
Nor other home nor other care intends,
But quits his house, his country and his friends."
HOM. Od. Bk. vi.
Some say that it is the wild jube-jube plant,
whose berries are the lotos, and others consider
it is the fruit of the caroub tree which grows here
so abundantly.
This latter is that lotos-bean which by some who
know not better is called "locust," and which may be
seen in small shops in our towns and in the hands
and mouths of our own street Arabs, who thus become
"Lotophagi." Some, who err, assert that it was
* M. Guérin, in his “Voyage Archéologique,” also assures us
that the island is the Brachion of Scylax. The Scylax who was
sent on a geographical expedition by Darius Hystaspes sailed,
however, from the Indus to the Red Sea.
A
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TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
upon this bean that St. John the Baptist subsisted
when he lived on "locusts and wild honey" (Farrar,
"Life of Christ," vol. i. p. 110).
I did not know before why the adjective melan-
choly should be always prefixed by the poet when
speaking of Lotos-eaters, but on essaying to consume
a lotos-bean in its unripe state, I fully realized it all.
So we lie off the island of Djerba, in the shallows
of the Lesser Syrtis, and the modern Lotophagi come
off to us in their slow-moving craft. Our whistle
booms out in an unromantic way over the Syrtean
shallows to quicken their movements.
At Homt-es-Souk, near the white houses yonder
on the beach, there formerly stood a pyramid, built
not of stones or bricks as is the usual pyramidic
fashion, but of layers of Spanish skulls and bones
belonging to soldiers who came here under the Duke
de Alva in 1560. It has lately been removed and
the bones interred in the cemetery of Tunis.
On board this morning the Arab passengers,
having performed their religious ablutions and said
their prayers Mecca-wards, lie about the deck with
all their baggage around them. Under the title
baggage no doubt they would include their wives, of
whom only one eye was visible. The old Arab
woman who kissed my hand yesterday was most
anxious to display her knowledge of the French lan-
* Sir Grenville Temple, " Excursions in the Mediterranean,"
i. p. 156.
).
LIVELY BAGGAGE.
127
guage, and followed me about the decks politely
screaming "Banjo." At last it dawned upon me that
she meant “Bon jour." I think she must have been
an Islamic saint; she had the essential qualification—
weakness of intellect.
A great barge glides up to us over the calm sea,
a whole Jewish family in their picturesque costume
sitting in its stern. The patriarch is cross-legged
and immobile, the mother holds her children close
to her, fearful at the new experience, and a pretty
little child climbing over the luggage is all inno-
cent of any danger, and happy in her excitement.
They settle down in a corner on the deck, with all
their family goods, strange pots, baskets, and bags.
Another boat with French officers in sun helmets
and scarlet leather trousers reminds us that we are
now near a land "occupied" by France. The boats
roll and toss, and the passengers scramble on board
amid a fierce Babel of many tongues, in which blacks
and Arabs enter into close competition with the
Frenchmen on board, as to who shall give vent to
the most ear-piercing yells.
"Now round about our keel with faces pale,
Dark faces pale against the rosy flame,
The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came."
Some of these Lotos-eaters are fine fellows, dressed
in a manner which might excite a shade of envy in
the minds of ladies of fashion in our own land, accom-
panied, however, I am sure, by unlimited admiration.
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TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
1
Long red morocco leather boots, or white stockings
and slippers, adorning handsome legs and feet,
djubbas of ruby or green, an exquisite light haic
tastefully thrown over all, so graceful, so dignified.
The scene forward is very interesting. The Arab
families are encamped on the deck in their Oriental
costumes, while diminutive but precocious babies
crawl about and look up with intelligent eyes at all
that goes on. Aged Moors, much troubled with their
trying surroundings; mattresses, carpets, bags, and
strange packages (some of which you find are human
if you sit down on them); French soldiers in faded
uniforms, and Maltese women with gay handkerchiefs
on their heads.
At last we glide away from the Insula Lotopha-
gorum and sail for hours under the blazing sun, until
we see before us the great white dome of Sidi Bulbeba's
kouba far away on the low sandhills, where the desert
stretches from the Tacapean oasis to join the Sahara.
Ghabes is by no means an attractive spot in
summer time, especially when the gibleh (sirocco-
wind) is blowing, as it so often does, not in great blasts,
but lazily shading the sun with a dusky pink cloud,
and bringing up the fine sand and oppressive furnace-
heat from the Sahara.
"Through clouds of dust the crimson sun
Glares on the earth in lurid ire ;
The parched earth with thirsty lips
Is gasping, ready to expire.”*
* Poems by Archbishop Trench, p. 295.
A GOOD OPENING.
129
Through these sandhills it is proposed to cut a
channel, and to let the Mediterranean in on to the
huge shotts or marsh lakes of the interior, which it is
asserted are below sea level, and thus to make a vast
inland sea, where the smoky steamer shall replace
"the ship of the desert." The Tunisians, and inhabi-
tants of the interior, however, love their date palms,
which the salt water would destroy.
Ghabes is destined to play an important part in
the future, if the Saharan Canal becomes a fact.
We anchored a mile and a half from the little jetty,
near the palm trees, beyond which is the French
encampment. It is here that the great "cut" will be
made, and these shallows will require some consider-
able dredging ere large vessels can pass in.*
Over
* The author here ventures to introduce, in the form of a foot-
note, some remarks made by him in a lecture at Newcastle soon
after the visit of the Comte de Lesseps to that town. He gives
the words as reported in the Newcastle papers: "In these days
of magnificent engineering schemes, when Franco-Caledonian
energy and diplomacy overcome obstacles of all kinds in the
making and widening of canals, the subject of an African inland
sea seems less visionary each year. Many people, however, have
a vague and mistaken notion as to the Sahara. They take up an
atlas, perhaps not a very modern one, and seeing a large portion
of Africa coloured brown and labelled 'the Sahara,' they at once
jump to the conclusion that this will be covered by the proposed
Saharan Sea, which would then extend from Ghabes to Tim-
bucktoo. In fact, Timbucktoo has so often been referred to as
being on the shores of the proposed inland sea, that it is well to
be reminded that it is upon the river Niger, some fifteen hundred
miles above its mouth, and therefore situated in a country some
thousand feet above the level of the sea. It would be expensive
K
130
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
the long rollers we swung in a native boat towards
the shore, and all the dexterity of the Arab boatmen
work to pump the Mediterranean up to Timbucktoo. Now, the
Sahara is not a level desert plain uninhabited by a living
creature. There are mountains and hills to be seen continually.
There are oases, some of considerable extent, in which are found
towns and villages. There are thousands of inhabitants, some
of nomadic race, some living in fixed dwelling-places. What,
then, would be the effect of letting in the waters of the Mediter-
ranean upon the Sahara? It would probably create a series of
huge lakes bounded by mountains and connected by channels.
An immense number of towns and habitations would be de-
stroyed, together with countless groves of nuklah or date palm,
the chief source of food and wealth to many of the Saharan
inhabitants. It would open up in time a new traffic and new
freights for north country steamers if the holders of the canal
saw fit to make it possible for British steamers to compete.
Ghabes would become the Port Said of the new canal, and, as
such, a most important station in the Mediterranean. At
present Ghabes is not interesting. The sands of the Sahara
come down to the very seashore, while upon an oasis to the
north, a splendid grove of date palms stands out dark green
against the heated red desert. Toiling over the burning sand
last June, I examined the spot where the canal is proposed to
be cut. The Gibleh or Sirocco wind was blowing, hiding the
sun behind a pink cloud of Sahara dust, and Ghabes seemed
a very forlorn spot. Some ten miles of sandhills separates the
Mediterranean from the first of a chain of shallow sebkas or
brackish lakes which stretch far into the interior, and here the
inland sea would commence. These inland marsh lakes have
been by some identified with the ancient Palus Tritonis, the
scene of Jason's adventures; but Sir Richard Wood, who has
studied the whole question, placed the Palus Tritonis between
Jerber and the mainland. I had some difficulty in getting off to
the Abd-el-Kadr, owing to the heavy swell which was running.
If a port is constructed here, an immense amount of dredging
will be necessary, for the steamers of the French Compagnie
Transatlantique have to anchor a mile or so from the shore.”
DISCRETION.
131
did not prevent my getting "soused," nor did my stick
save me from being half torn in pieces by the brawny
Moors who sought the honour of landing me in Tunisia.
At present the chief features of Ghabes are the
oasis, with its palms and gardens, and the uninteresting
French encampment. Over the sands careered Arab
horsemen, and down to the sea shore came some of
the French soldiers for the latest news from civilization,
and to have a good look at the distant hull of the good
Abd-el-Kadr, all ready to steam northwards again.
Through the rollers once more we pulled. I inno-
cently roused the ire of the Arab boatmen, who
thought I was sketching them, when I was only taking
notes. I exercised the better part of valour, when I
saw that I should have either to desist or to "leave
the boat." The latter would have been inconvenient
at this distance from shore.
In the evening I made the acquaintance of
M. G. J. DURMEYER,
Aumonier,
Pasteur.
Armeé d'Occupation. Tunis.
He had been to Ghabes, and was now on his way back
to Tunis, calling in at the different stations. Chap-
lains in the French army, both Roman and Protestant,
wear a Mosaic-work cross, which is suspended round
+

132
TO KAIRWẪN THE HOLY.
their neck by a broad ribbon. We had some talk on
matters ecclesiastical, and upon two subjects in which
I was naturally interested, he gave me his opinion in
writing. Here is his opinion of the "Gallican Church."
Le pere Hyacinthe est considéré en France comme
un chrétién sérieux par les âmes se réclamant de la
Réforme, mais il s'est nui considerablement par son
empressement à sortir du célibat, et par son attache-
ment á la succession apostolique, ce qui l'éloigne d'une
part de l'Église de Rome et d'autre part des Églises
de la Réformation."
As to the Salvation Army, M. Durmeyer considers
that however it has succeeded in England, in France
it has brought down upon itself the ridicule which
there kills.
"L'Armée du Salui.
"L'armée du salut aurait pu faire du bien en France
si elle n'avait pas eu recours à des moyens ressemblant
un peu trop à ceux qui sont employés par les saltim-
banques. Le ridicule tue, dit-on en France, et les
manœuvres de l'armeé du salut sont faites pour tuer
l'œuvre entreprise par elle. Voilà la seule raison
pour laquelle je lui ai retiré les sympathies que
m'inspire son programme.
"A bord de l'Abd-el-Kader, en rade de Gabes.
(Tunisie), le 29 Mai, 1883.
"L'Aumonier Militaire,
"G. J. DURMEYER,
-56.
"Pasteur."
SFAX FACTS.
133
CHAPTER XIV.
THE CITY OF CUCUMBERS.
Es Fakouse-"Sfax facts"-Country seats-Cucumbers-Bom-
bardment-Mr. Leadbitter-Olive-crushing—Arab funeral
-Bakery — Cisterns — Abattoirs Bazaars Mosques-
Three old Moors-El Hammam-Abdul Moulir's house-
Shaôushes—Cadi-Sponges-Koran text-Ride among
gardens-Mirage.
FIVE hours' steaming through the gulf of Ghabes and
round the Sponge Islands of Kerkena brings us in
the early morning to the roads of Asfachus, or Sfax,
which city takes its name from the quantity of
cucumbers (Fakouse) grown in the neighbourhood.
In the early morning we lie two or three miles
from the white walls of this badly used town, so much
damaged in 1881 by the guns of the French fleet.
Large sailing barges come alongside, and the
excruciating steam winch of the Abd-el-Kadr suc-
ceeds in rousing the most obdurate and determined
slumberers.
The country is low, and, as seen from the ship,
somewhat uninteresting, sandy, and yellow, with a
few hills far away inland.
134
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
To the north side of the city are the celebrated
country gardens, where the cucumbers prosper.
Every one who can afford has a 'lodge in a garden
of cucumbers,' surrounded by high clay embankments,
with hedges of cacti on the top. On donkey-back,
or on foot, the Moor journeys backwards and forwards.
from his country seat to his business in the city-or
even to beg. Apricots, grapes, pistachio nuts, all
flourish here, and very attractive are these oases in
the desert-like country.
A balancelle comes out to us, dashing over the
tossing water, with her large felucca-sail set, and
heeling over before the fresh breeze as she flies over
the curling waves. With an Arab family, we are soon
on our way over the two and a quarter miles of inter-
vening blue water, tossing and splashing. The Arab
lady, who appears like a heap of clothes in the bottom
of the boat, is in a state of abject terror, not from
the great waves, but lest the Infidel in white flannel
should see her face.
On shore I found the only Englishman, Mr.
Leadbitter, at the esparto stores, half a mile or so
from the harbour, beyond the crenellated Moorish
walls dazzling white in the fierce sunshine.
Mr. Leadbitter was most courteous, and did his
best to make my Sfaxine visit pleasant, interesting,
and instructive.
With a pleasant young Italian, Carmelo Monti-
bello, I went to see the environs of Asfachus.
THE JACKAL AND THE CUCUMBERS.
135
It was at this city of Sfax that the Arab revolt
against the Bey and against his new masters began,
and in consequence this town underwent a bom-
bardment and pillage at the hands of the French.
The Bedouins had for some weeks become more and
more restless, and at last the clouds of dust be-
tokening their approach induced the bravest of
Europeans to take to the sea. Soon afterwards a
desultory fire from the French man-of-war, Chacal,
commenced, and when the French fleet* arrived, a
bombardment of twenty-four hours brought about
a surrender.
The Europeans lived on board barges and ships,
also on short commons. Mr. Leadbitter told me he
was glad to return to his house, which, fortunately,
had not been destroyed either by Arabs or French
soldiers.
Relics of the revolt may be found in some of
the European houses. Mr. Leadbitter, among other
things, possesses a sacred drum, used by some Mará-
bout in the Aïssaouiah festival, and an illuminated
Korân. A leaf which he gave me as a souvenir, bears
the following words in Arabic, brightly painted, words
which others than Muhammedans may well remember.
"In the name of the Great, the very Kind, the All-
* It consisted of four gunboats and nine (!) ironclads. The
bombardment commenced on July 15th, 1881, was kept up that
day and with the electric light until the next morning, when a
landing was effected and the town taken.
136
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
Loving Allah, who is the Master of all, and has
none above Him. We proclaim for the sake of all
"who trust in Him, that one thing only is absolutely
needful among the many important things, and that
"is to use the name of God often in prayer, for to pray
"is better than to rest."
From the esparto stores over the hot plains with
the young Italian to see an oil mill. We pass under
a white gateway into the quadrangle, and from
thence into one of the dark chambers opening from
it. Here in the inner darkness strange turbaned
forms move about, and a mysterious djmil, with out-
stretched neck and eyes blindfolded, strides round
and round a mill in which the olives are broken and
crushed beneath an old Roman column. The broken
fruit is then taken to an adjoining chamber, where
the darkness is still more gross, and being placed in
esparto bags, the oil is squeezed out by a primitive
sort of press, draining it off into slimy dark wells.
Out into the dazzling sunlight, where we are
attracted by the weird sounds from a procession
of Moors, who are carrying on their shoulders some-
thing which at first looks like the Ark of old borne
by Israelitish priests. It is the funeral of an Arab
woman, and we join the procession as they sing verses
from the Korân. The corpse is borne on
a bier
covered with a sort of a roof of carpet work. The
husband follows, and "much people of the city was
with him," for it is usual for every one to leave his
HEADACHES.
137
employment and follow a funeral procession. At
the grave all the mourners stand with faces Mecca-
wards, in two long lines, and offer silent prayer. The
Imaum stands in front nearer the corpse. It is then
placed upon its right side in the shallow grave, while
a circle of mourners at a little distance again sing
verses from the Korân.
The first night after the burial, as the body lies
with sightless eyes turned Mecca-wards, the two
dread inquisitors, Munkir and Nakir, come and rouse
it to a sitting position. "Was Allah thy God,
Muhammed thy prophet, the Korân thy 'Book of
Directions,' and the Kaaba thy Kibleh?" If the
answer is satisfactory the deceased is suffered to sleep
in peace until the Day of Doom, but if not they set
to work to torture and beat the poor sinner about
the temples with iron maces. This is a trifle incon-
siderate.
We visit a group of Arab houses in the country,
a village called Tah Hona, and enter a combination
bakery where one of the turbaned bakers is reading
the Korân to the others. Here is the grain in sacks,
here is the circumambulating donkey grinding it into
flour, here the dough ready to be placed on the oven,
and here the loaves are brought out all hot.
An immense enclosure, to the N.W. of Sfax, seven
or eight acres in extent, surrounded with stone walls,
contains some hundred tanks of very great age, but
renovated by the French since their occupation.
138
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
They are all below ground, with small openings in
the concrete above like the mouth of a well. The
water at the bottom is muddy, and there is very
little of it, but Arabs, who have been let down by
their friends above, are filling pitchers. They make
these cavern-like depths resound to their strange
songs and cries as the pitchers are drawn up and
borne to the city. The water in Sfax is very bad.
Mr. Leadbitter sends four miles every day to a well
in the country, where alone good water
obtained.
can be
In an encampment of Bedouins near the walls
we see wild-looking half-naked children, and dark-
skinned women, with many coins round their strange
faces. They are busy cooking kuss-kuss-óo on the
fire in front of their tents, and are unusually friendly.
Near the northern gate into Sfax is the meat
market, where poor little goats and fat-tailed sheep
are ending their lives at the hands of their Mussulman
executioners, who, to do them justice, are fairly merci-
ful. “Bismillah” (“In the name of the most merciful
God"), and the poor little black goat, so full of life a
moment before, looks up with glazing eye on the
black beard and swarthy countenance.
Yet man must live and goats must die. Leaving
the Arabs dexterously taking the skins off their
victims to use as "bottles," we pass into the city
proper by one of its two gates.
No Christians or Jews live within the walls.
CHILDREN OF THE PROPHET.
139
These splendid white walls with their square turrets
at intervals, and their two massive gates, protect and
preserve the Moor uncontaminated, though the infidel
may come in through the day to bargain with him.
What a sad falling off to see very unpresentable
representatives of the grande armée at either gate.
But poor Tunis is now "occupied," and the Armée
d'Occupation is making every preparation for a
permanent abode in the land.
We wandered through the different bazaars, and
watched the blacksmiths and joiners at work, and
inspected the different shops. Nearly every shop had
a new door or a large patch of new wood near the
keyhole. This is to be accounted for by the fact,
that upon the entry of the French, the bazaars were
all burst open and ransacked, the reason given being
that some fanatics had fired upon the French soldiers
from some of the houses.
We passed the two mosques Djâma 'l Bou Shouîsha
and Djâma 'l Kebir. Into the latter with its rows.
of pillars I nearly walked, seeing another door
opposite and just thinking it was a covered courtyard.
It was well for me that I did not go in, or I might
have been obliterated, for the Sfaxines are as fanatical
as ever. Green turbans, the distinguishing sign of
a relative of Muhammed, prevail to the same extent
that black faces abound at Tripoli. Nearly every
other person seems to be a relative of the Prophet,
and dignified by the term Shreef.
&
140
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
We sat and sipped coffee in a picturesque vaulted
bazaar, out of the blazing sun.
Opposite us three genial old Moors were arranged
on a divan. "There is a thorough old rascal,” said
Mr. Leadbitter, pointing to one of the turbaned
gentlemen who sat nursing his knee, with a merry
twinkle in his eye.
"Ah, what are you saying about me, Sidi?"
exclaimed our bearded friend in a moment, in Arabic.
"I was telling this Frankish stranger what a good
old man you were, O Pilgrim," my companion replied.
The other old men were intensely amused, and
all shook their heads at their friend in a droll
significant manner, and said, "But you are not
good at all, Ya Hadji Mufta ;" and they all three
enjoyed the joke immensely.
A noble looking Moor rode into the bazaar on
a splendid barb, and cried out that he would sell him
for an amount equal to £9. He added, that he would
guarantee that the animal should never eat less than
a certain quantity of much corn a day.
We were invited to inspect the Turkish baths,
and found two stout, jolly-looking old Moors becoming
attenuated. A good many visits to the Hammam
would be necessary before they could pass through
the pillars of Kairwân. A Moslem shampooer
was anxious to know that I was not displeased with
what I saw in the Hammam. Perhaps he saw that
I was interested in some noble cockroaches which
were disporting themselves upon the slabs.
IMPROVING THE OCCASION.
14г
The house of one Abdul Moulir, at Sfax, for the
richness of its Moorish designs, is a sight well worth
seeing. It is now used as the "Bureau d'Administra-
tion des Arabes," and is occupied by the French.
The central courtyard is decorated all round most
profusely with rich colouring in arabesque style, and
some of the rooms take away one's breath with their
gorgeous Saracenic colouring. Nothing but the brush
of an artist could adequately convey an idea of the
brilliancy of the scene.
In the ante-room were assembled a dozen or
twenty Arabs, all dressed exactly alike, in a dark blue
burnoose, with a piece of silver lace sewn upon it.
These are a species of native gendarmes, some of
whom have not borne the best of characters in the
past. One of these shaôushs has made the most of
the opportunities his office supplies to acquire all the
personal property of his relatives who fled to Tripoli
at the time of the rebellion. He is now about to
purchase some real property.
We mount the roof, and see below us a sea of
white buildings, the city wall enclosing the greater
part in its circling embrace.
Yonder is the blue Mediterranean, and to the
other side the hot country stretches far away, partly
wooded in one direction, where country residences and
gardens stretch for miles.
Some of the little Sfaxine girls wear a picturesque
dress of two bright colours, joined together down the
142
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
centre, front and back, like Wallett, "the Queen's
jester." The Sfaxines, like the Tunisians, wear
flowers in their turbans, placed just above their right
ear, a graceful custom and worthy of imitation. How
refreshing it would be to see men coming to town
with a rose or a tiny bouquet peeping out over the
right ear, stuck in between the hat and the hair.
We looked in on the Cadi, as he sat in his fine
white turban administering some sort of justice. It
was a picturesque scene, and interesting, especially
when one was informed that he was one of the chief
leaders of the revolt against the Bey and his French
friends in 1881.
This court of the Cadi is quite independent of the
French authorities, and is neither recognized nor sup-
pressed by them, as they do not wish to excite any
prejudices on the part of the Moors.
We also entered the "Palais de Justice," where,
however, litigation was having a poor time of it. We
passed into a courtyard opposite, where an office was
filled with Arab sheikhs come to pay the war-tax
levied by the French (in all £250,000 sterling).
The vicinity of the Kerkena islands, round which
we have been sailing, causes Sfax to be an emporium
for sponges. We saw large numbers hanging in the
sun, some a good size, but coarse. The sponge-boats
lay off at the anchorage.
Being most anxious to obtain one of the large
illuminated texts of the Koran, we traversed the whole
MOVABLE OLIVE TREES.
143
It must be ordered before-
city, but without success.
hand, said every one. At last, by the kindness of our
friend, we obtained one, bearing the words, "In the
name of the most merciful God. Enter thou into the
gates of peace."
After luncheon we had a pleasant ride out into the
country, all among the gardens, and all along narrow
hot lanes between high red clay banks and hedges
of prickly pear.
At last we cantered back to the white walls of
Sfax; and later we scudded over the waves to the
Abd-el-Kadr, receiving a thorough soaking upon the
journey, as both wind and waves were high, and we
sailed often with the gunwale down to the water's
edge. As we raced over the rough sea we saw a
perfect mirage. A long line of olive-trees left their
native soil and appeared to be growing on the shore
of a great lake stretched out below them.*
Thus ended my pleasant visit to the town of Sfax,
and as my kind guide left for the shore I felt I had
much to thank him for in displaying to the stranger-
pilgrim the sights of the City of Cucumbers.
*
Trusting to a somewhat youthful amanuensis to copy from
my diary, I found these olive trees grazing on the far shore,
and the sponges spoken of above, lounging in the sun. Climatic
influence is very powerful upon vegetable life, but the pen is
evidently omnipotent.
144
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
CHAPTER XV.
MAHHDIA, MONASTIR, AND SUSA.
A Kairwân port-Oil on troubled waters-Cape Afrikia—A
Mahdi here-Monastir and the Monastiri-Susa and black-
eyed Susans-Sensible straw hats-Sunset off Susa—
Musical marines-The man in the hammock.
Off Cape Africa.—We are anchored close to the pic-
turesque old fortress-town of Mahhdia, once the sea-
port of the city of Kairwân, distant only some forty
miles inland. An oily cargo is being floated off to
us in trains of casks, towed out thirty at a time by
ragged Arabs in their boats. As they come along
they leave behind them on the sea a widening track
of smooth water caused by the oleaginous and
soothing nature of this floating freight.
From the shore there is wafted across the water
the cries and sounds of a city-children's voices, cock-
crowing, the efforts of a demonstrative donkey, and
the angry declamations of a Mahhdian dog.
A long rocky tongue to the north of the city
stretches into the blue water, bearing on its point
some ancient ruins, and near them camels graze and
MAHDI-HERE,
145
Arabs wash themselves. This is none other than
Cape Africa (or Afrikia), from whence Hannibal
departed when he left the Dark Continent, a dis-
appointed man, flying from his secret enemies in
Carthage and his open enemies from Rome.* Along
the shore great yellow rocks receive the attacks of
the blue rollers, while beyond the city the country
seems in great measure to be wooded and fertile.
This town of Mahhdia, or Mahdi-ya, owes its
name to one of the predecessors of the Mahdis of
our own times. A Mahdi is no new invention; there
have been several before Muhammed Achmet of the
Soudân and the Senoussian Sheikh. The founder
of the fortress-town of Mahhdia was known as El
Mahdi Califa. He made no little stir in the Dar-ul-
Islam, and for a time was Emir of Kairwân. He
was the founder of the Fatimite dynasty.†
The water here is so exquisitely clear that, leaning
over the rails of the forecastle deck, I can see the huge
chain cable stretching away to the very bottom of the
sea, and the anchor half embedded in the ground,
while the fish sniff and nibble in an inquisitive sort of
way, wondering whether or no it is edible.
* Those who dwell at the other extremity of the Dark Con-
tinent scarcely realize that perhaps from this cape, but certainly
from this land of Tunis, in the ages when it formed the province
of Africa Propria, the whole Libyan continent gained its present
name-Africa.
† See "Good Words," October, 1884,-" Muhammedan
Mahdis;" also "Country of Moors," p. 148, for a quotation from
Leo Africanus on this point.
L
146
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
At last our whistle booms out, and is promptly
answered by a Mahhdian donkey on shore, who bids us
farewell in his native Arabic. The propeller churns
the water into a mass of white foam, a lovely contrast
to the blue sea around. The sun gets higher and
higher as we sail along, until at mid-day our shadows
are a mere circle round our feet. An hour or two
later the minaret and white walls of another Oriental
town may be seen as we approach Monastir.
A long sandy shore, fringed by brushwood, stretches
from the "port" to the town, which is a mile away
from this primitive landing-place, where there are
just a few sheds to protect one from the fierce sun.
An old fort with seven port-holes protects the
anchorage. It is a Moorish building, with a watch-
tower rising above its walls.
The white houses of Monastir are scattered over
the promontory, and the feathery nuklah rises here
and there. Camels solemnly pace the sands, and
energetic donkey ambles along, for its owner
wishes to catch the steamer, and soon his boatmen
pull lustily from the shore. The arrival of a large
vessel is an event in the little world of Monastir.
an
This Monastir is considered to be the Ruspina of
Cæsar. In those old days, as now, the Monastiri were
not renowned for "ses politesses ou ses delicatesses."
If you have no snarling dog to put at your door,
place one of the Monastiri there; such is the adage
of Barbary. A couple of hours later we are steaming
BLACK-EYED SUSAN.
147
round the promontory and the brown rocky islets,
and see the city from its other side as we sail again
northwards.
At last, as the afternoon wears away, my voyaging
along the Tunisian coast draws to a close, for here we
are, opposite the crenellated walls of Susa, whose
buildings cluster together on a gentle slope rising
from the blue sea to the Kasbah, which stands on the
hill-top.
Susa is well worth a visit. During my short
stay here I made my home still with Captain Holly
and my friends the French officers, rowing backwards
and forwards to see the town and to make arrange-
ments for my journey of one hundred and fifty miles
among the Bedouins.
A black-eyed Susan in his gaudy clothes accom-
panied me round Susa. We went through the pic-
turesque bazaars, and I sat cross-legged upon the
shelf in front of an arabesque store, bargaining for
brilliant leather slippers.
Some of the buildings of Susa are decidedly
handsome. The gates in the city walls are most
picturesque-deep Moorish archways with covered
ways leading to a second gate inside. We ascended
the narrow streets up the hillside on which the town
is built, and watched the Arabs plying their different
trades. From the top of the narrow street, with its
irregular buildings, we looked down over the city and
out to the blue sea beyond.
148
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
Passing through the Kairwân gate into the
country we saw a huge hat coming along, with six
legs beneath. It was one of the tremendous straw
coverings which the natives wear, useful both as hat
and parasol; indeed, it preserved the donkey's com-
plexion, as well as that of the Moor upon its back,
whose brown legs almost touched the ground. We
wandered through the Jews' quarter, and peeped into
strange interiors in passing, startling the families
within. They were horrified by my appearance at
their doors. "He is an accursed Turk," remarked a
large-eyed Jew boy.
Julius Cæsar was really ubiquitous. He has been
here in Susa, though they called it Adrumetum then.
He landed three thousand foot and one hundred and
fifty horse, and trotted round these white walls him-
self.* I wonder if he found it as broiling as it is to-
day. There are two mosques in Susa-El Djâma 'l
Natreddin at the south, and El Djâma 'l Kebir, near
the Bab-el-Bahhr, neither very interesting.
At last, after walking immense distances in the
hot sun, we pass out on to the shore by the Bab-el-
Bahhr and make for our boat. As we walk down we
meet some Arabs bearing on a pole between them a
magnificent turtle which had just been caught.
I
* Susa was the scene of many stirring events in the past..
In the sixteenth century, when it was given up to piracy, the
great Andrea Doria reduced the city to subjection; but it soon
after welcomed Dragut within its walls. In earlier times.
Okhbah, the builder of Kairwân, resided here for a long period.
LES MARINES.
149
wondered if it was my friend from Gibraltar. Pro-
pelled by Arab boatmen, we first amble and then
gallop over the heavy rollers to the Abd-el-Kadr in
time for dinner.
We lie at anchor a mile east of the picturesque
town, with its machicolated battlements, its Moorish
gateways and minarets, and its white flat-roofed
houses one above another, surmounted by the great
Kasbah.
The sun goes down, setting, perhaps, behind the
holy city of Kairwân, and the dying sunlight paints
with a rosy hue the sky, the houses, and the water.
To the north the quaint mountains of the Dakkul,
which I last saw from the deck of the Glenochil,
stand out purple in the distance and the peak of
Zaghowân to the north-east. Beyond the city walls
to the south stretch miles and miles of wooded plain,
dotted here and there with flat-roofed country houses.
The sunset tints do not remain, as in our
northern climate. The moment the sun descends all
the brilliant colours disappear. The rosy cloudlets
become dark grey, the sea slaty green, and one can
scarcely believe that it is the same picturesque scene
one beheld but a moment before.
The French sailors are often drôles. They must
be merry, must drive away anything suggesting
ennui; they indulge in discordant noises which they
call music in the "dog-watches," concertina, two pairs
of bones, and a curious instrument like a little drum
150
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
with a rod sticking out, which they rub with a resined
cloth and which produces a sound between that of a
drum and a trumpet." Voila le regiment," cries a
captain of chasseurs, putting his head into the saloon.
Here they come, marching in step round the ship.
In front, to show the way in the dark, a sailor
tramps solemnly with a lantern. Nearer and nearer
they come, breathing out martial strains, and pro-
ducing a grand sensation and much applause and
laughter from the military officers.
Slinging my hammock on deck, I enjoyed the
fresh air, despite the scrambling of the ship's cat over
the awning, and awoke very early in the morning
to see the grey dawn creep over the sea, and the
white buildings of Susa glow in the rosy light of the
rising sun, as it rushed up from the eastern sea fiery
and red.
AN ENGLISH SPY.
I5I
CHAPTER XVI.
ACROSS THE SAHEL TO KAIRWÂN.
A farewell dinner-Off to Kairwân-Obstructionists-Last view
of Mediterranean-Es Sahel-Francesco Bonichi-Moured-
din-Berbers-Waggons-Sheep and goats-Steppes and
Sahel-Kairwân and El Kûds-Tramways-First view of
the Holy City-Camel dentistry-Well near Kairwân-
Snails-Tamarisks- Cicalas-Gloomy Kairwân-Camel
dissection-Locanda-View from lattice-Kairwani concert.
A MERRY party assembled in the splendid saloon of
the Abd-el-Kadr to dine together for the last time
before my departure for Kairwân. As it was a fare-
well dinner the commandant in my honour ordered
up sparkling champagne, in which the officers.
pleasantly pledged my health and "Bon voyage à
Kairwân." I proposed in return, in a purer and less
expensive liquid, “ À la France, et à sa prosperité.”
"Ah,” remarked a colonel of the Chasseurs d'Af-
rique, “notre ami Anglais n'joute pas en Tunisie."
They all seemed to be convinced that my mission
was in some way "diplomatique.”
"Parbleu," remarked a Frenchman at the Grand
152
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
.
Hôtel at Tunis, "vous faites un voyage solitaire jus-
qu'à Kairwân dans le mois de juin, et vous nous dites
que c'est pour votre plaisir ! c'est incroyable et diffi-
cile à avaler."
The sun was high in the heavens when over the
blue waves my Arabs pulled away for the last time.
from the dark sides of the Abd-el-Kadr. I re-entered
Susa through the great Bab-el-Bahhr, followed by the
bronze Arab boatmen bearing my various packages.
Passing along the winding streets, with their pic-
turesque Moorish crowds, we were soon at the vice-
consulate, where my carosse, with a little Maltese
cuccier, was to wait for me.
My effects having been stowed away in the in-
terior, and my revolver with its little cartridges safely
tucked in my belt, the word of command is given,
adieus are waved to the little gathering at the Con-
sulate, and I am really off on my solitary journey—the
last stage in the pilgrimage to the "Holy City,” and
far the most exciting. My four little horses, all
abreast, dash along the rough street, suddenly, how-
ever, to stop, as the way is blocked by a dozen oily
camels, wandering all over the road, and bearing black
hairy goatskins, which are distended in a dropsical
manner with olive oil. "Oh, thou goat-beard! oh,
Abdullah, thou fatted ass, why dost thou not attend
to thy cattle?”
The unfortunate camels are anathematized in
Arabic and Maltese, and with all their ancestry
*
THE CAMELS ARE COMING.
153
consigned to Jehennum. What was more effectual
and practical, they are also promptly battered out of
the way. We rattle out through the sea gate, passing
away from the crowd of dark-faced Moors, who
mutter “Câfr," "Käyrawân," "Ma maleh."
Susa is built upon a steep hillside rising from
the sea.
We might have driven up the main street,
which ascends the hill to the Kairwân gate. The
"oolitic upheaval," however, which in that narrow
passage painfully attracts one's attention to the
occasional presence of paving stones, would have
endangered both carosse and its infidel contents.
So passing out at the lower gate, we encircle the
walls, climbing the hill outside, and arriving at last
opposite the Kairwân entrance.
From the hill-top is a lovely view, as one looks.
back and down upon the blue Mediterranean, with
the little vessels far away below, while on its bosom
we see the two sloping masts and dark funnel of the
Abd-el-Kadr. Leaving now the white crenellated
walls of Susa behind us, and its Kasbah, above which
floats the blood-red flag (for it is the Muhammedan
Sabbath) we set out on our long journey, bumping
and rattling under the pitiless sun, the earth and sky
each like an oven.
We are travelling over the "Sahel," that vast plain
which stretches along the Tunisian littoral, and inland
as far as the distant mountains, which are faintly dis-
cernible to the north-west, round about Zaghowân.
、
154
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
Over a camel track, sometimes scarcely visible, some-
times spreading out an immense width, along this my
plucky steeds drag the carosse, now bumping over a
channel made for irrigation, now crashing through
patches of underwood, and travelling the while over
a sandy desert-like waste, where for miles no living
creature may be seen, and upon which the sun
expends its concentrated vehemence.
My Maltese driver, Francesco Bonichi (whom I
find it convenient to call Chicco), was not an intensely
interesting character. Self-sufficient he was, ready to
bully but easily cowed, and yet withal, I think, he
was honest. My four brave steeds were accustomed
to the blaze of an African sun, or the howls of rage
and disgust with which he startled these unfortunates.
would simply have scorched and blistered their brown
backs.
Chicco talked Maltese, which is almost an Arab
dialect, so of course could understand Arabic and
make himself understood. Strangely enough, Arabic
was our chief medium of intercommunication, for he
was innocent entirely of Italian, French, or English,.
and so as an interpreter Chicco was not a great
success. When I say that Arabic was our chief
means of communication, I do not necessarily mean
to imply that our conversation was uninterrupted and
everflowing.
Some miles after leaving Susa, we skirt exten-
sive olive yards, with their gnarled trees and greyish
t
THROUGH MOUREDDÎN.
155
foliage. We emerge at length upon a bare rocky
plain, sprinkled thinly, however, with stunted brush-
wood, in the distance resembling English moorland
dappled with brown heather, and over this the little
horses tug and strain, keeping up a very fair speed.
A small caravan at last meets us-innumerable
camels and asses, driven by bronzed Arabs, some
wearing the monstrous straw hats of the Djerîd, a
yard across. They all dart unmistakable glances of
hatred at my Maltese, with his four horses. We are
jerked, bumped, and rattled along the lonely camel
track, until about an hour and a half from Susa we
see the white houses of Moureddîn, the only village
we pass on the way to the Holy City. We enter its
narrow street, where the male inhabitants, in their
baracans and djubbas, crouch in the shade, and
watch us with no friendly gaze.
With a rush, our brown steeds take us out again
on to the hot plains, through huge hedges of hendi
or prickly pear. We pass a white stone well just
outside Moureddîn, where the brown women are
drawing the water, and discussing topics generally
brought forward in our country at " afternoon tea.”
They are not at all bashful, as no male relative is
in sight, and they make no scruples as to displaying
pretty brown faces fringed with hanging silver coins.
Very picturesque are these Moors, balancing their
earthenware pitchers, or drawing them up from the
dark glistening well.
156
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
Some miles further on we meet a small company
of Berbers with their donkeys and camels, their dogs
and children. The latter seem afraid of the Evil Eye,*
and run to their parents, while the women discreetly
veil their faces, their lords and masters being near.
The white dogs make a rush at the carosse, but
wooden wheels are not pleasant things to fix the
teeth upon, and they wisely desist.
The Arabs use a rough two-wheeled cart to
bring down the halfa grass to the sea coast from the
interior. I expect they are something like the waggons
of Egypt, which Joseph sent by the flat coast to
Palestine to bring Jacob and his household to Goshen.
We meet a train of half a dozen of the carts, laden
with esparto, drawn by sturdy mules, and driven by
swarthy young Moors.
As the afternoon wears away, and we drag heavily
over the lonely far-stretching plains, we approach
some enormous flocks of fat-tailed sheep and black
hairy goats, all grazing as best they can upon the
scant herbage. The sheep are burdened by the huge
lappet of wool and fat which hangs as a caudal
appendage, knocking against their heels, while very
long ears are pendant on each side of their sad
faces.
The black goats, with perky tails exalted sky-
wards, and mischievous little black horns, caper about
* To guard against the effects of the Evil Eye, a charm is
seen everywhere in the form of a human hand cast in metal.
SHOTT OR SEBKA.
bleating in an inquiring manner, near their Arab
shepherd.
The plains grow sandy and desert-like, everything
burnt up beneath this fiercely scorching sun, though
in winter time this wilderness blossoms like the rose
after the torrential rains. For hours we do not see a
living creature, but towards the end of the afternoon
we meet a caravan of diminutive donkeys, all carrying
bolster-like sacks of wool, hanging almost to the
ground on either side in pannier fashion.
Their owners, stick in hand, march quickly behind
them, in their brown djubbas, with the hoods over their
heads because of the sun. They scowl unpleasantly
and pass on. To the north and west, we may see
through the heated air the faint outlines of the
Zaghowân mountains, and between us and them a
huge Shott or freshwater lake, the Sebka Kelibia,
whose distant waters glisten beneath the sun. On
our left, to the south, some miles away, is another
immense Shott, its great sheet of fresh water lying all
calm in the heat, and stretching for an immense
distance. It is known as the Kairwân Lake, or as the
Sebka Sidi el Hani.
This interminable plain has very much of the
character of the Russian steppes in the land of the
Cossacks of the Don. It need only the rude telega,
drawn by patient oxen, and driven by the uncouth
Moujik; or the Cossack galloping by on his wiry
steed, to take one to the littoral of the Azov.
$58
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
The distance from Susa to the Holy City is very
much the same as that from another Mediterranean
seaport to another Holy City, "El Kûds," holy alike
to Muhammedan, Jew, and Christian. From Jaffa to
Jerusalem is a road now well known to Europeans,
and in these days of "personally conducted" tours to
Palestine, and Hôtels in the City of David, that
journey has doubtless lost some of its romance.
The plain over which we are travelling was
crossed by one division of the French army in 1881,
when advancing on Kairwân, and they then laid
a line of tram-rails as they went. These still lie
there under the African sun, now disappearing
among the tamarisk bushes and now lying on the
camel track.
When one is on a solitary journey among the
Moors it is humiliating to come across a tram line
in the middle of the Sahel. Yet any tendency to
fancy that one is in no danger from the Bedouins is
soon put an end to on meeting a caravan of these
scowling Orientals, who would not be deterred, if they
had made up their minds to mischief, by the presence
of tram-rails.
At about five in the evening (June 1st) we are
approaching an eminence from which we shall obtain
the first view of distant Kairwân, nearly twenty miles
away across the plains.
The Marabout of Sidi el Hani, with its white
Koubas, is before us above the dark fig trees upon
!
FIRST SIGHT OF THE HOLY CITY,
159
yonder hillside. For a moment we stop and sip a
cup of coffee, and then our Barbary horses are set to
it once more as we heave and toss, travelling over
the plains of the Sahel, on a south-westerly course.
5.40 p.m. At last. I make Chicco stop as I alight,
and gazing intently over the great plain below us,
which stretches to the foot of the distant Ousselat
mountains, I see in the far, far distance the white
buildings of the city of Okhbah and the Minar of the
Djâma 'l Kebir.
As I stood on that slope beyond Sidi el Hani,
the sun declining to the western hills beyond the
Sanctuary of the Moors, I felt a sensation not often
experienced, as I looked down upon the city of the
"Great One," Okhbah, Kairwân the Holy. It was
such a view as this that Dr. Tristram had in 1857,
when he felt it not wise to attempt an entry because
of Moslem fanaticism. But I knew of the existence
of a French camp not far from those white walls,
and though I had no friends there, I felt that I
should have a means of escape if any serious trouble
befell me. The Moors are full of deadly hatred of the
European, I could not expect any help from them;
the French viewed my presence in the country with
some suspicion; but, as the sequel will show, I was
indeed fortunate, entering as I did the holiest mosques
in Africa, and leaving the city without having ever to
seek protection.
We had yet some hours' journey before us, and
T
160
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
"
could scarcely hope to arrive before dark, though
Chicco's team pulled well as we rolled along over
the great Sahel-plain.
We cross a wady-the bed of a river, now only
a muddy gully, and over it a narrow, shaky, wooden
bridge, without railing or parapet.
Four horses
abreast cannot get over, so one is unhitched, and I
lead him over after the carosse. It was here that
M. Jacassey sketched the Bedouin boy on the bullock
the year before.
The sandy desert plain is dotted most regularly
with tufts of coarse halfa, so that in the distance it
even looks like prairie-land, though as we rattle along
the breeze lifts the sand in blinding hot clouds, pene-
trating everything. I see near the track the bleached
skeleton of a dead camel, and I give Chicco the
necessary poke in the ribs, my prearranged Arabic
signal for a halt. Taking up the white skull, blanched
by the fierce sun, I dash it again and again on some
stones until I have loosened its teeth. These huge
grinders have been carefully preserved, as visible
evidence of the nature of a camel's bite.
6.45 p.m. The purple mountains look very
majestic as the sun descends and the sky assumes its
lovely sunset hues. Nearer and nearer we approach
the Holy City, and we meet some Arabs setting out
for a night journey.
They do not look pleasant, but
one and all exhibit gleaming white teeth.
The sun is just touching the hills as we approach

Awwa
་
:FF
Jacassy
ON THE SAHEL.
SIDI EL HANI IN THE DISTANCE.
тур
CHEEKY CHICCO.
161
a beer, or well, on the sandy plain, where a cluster
of wearied donkeys and camels are enjoying them-
selves beyond measure as their drivers let down their
pitchers and earthenware baradas into the water and
draw for them. The whole scene is a brilliant Bible
picture, taking one back to the days of the patriarchs.
I stand a few paces from the well and take notes as
Chicco waters the exhausted horses, each one terribly
eager for the first drink.
The sun, which has been burning and scorching all
day long, now for a moment rests upon the dark hills,
and tints everything with a rosy colour, painting alike
the white stonework of the well, the laden camels,
the donkeys (all but hidden beneath their esparto
burdens), and the wild-looking Arabs in their djubbas
and burnooses. They are looking daggers at Chicco,
who unconcernedly defiles the water by letting his
infidel bucket down. The water smells atrociously,
and yet the Arabs drink deeply of it. A long stone
trough stretches from the well, for watering the
camels. Everything is bathed in a deep rose colour,
for gold, and scarlet, and vermilion is the sunset over
the Ousselat mountains, and Kairwân stands yonder,
grey and dim before us.
Another hour will now bring us to our
journey's end. As we heavily drag over the last few
miles on this weary plain, I am attracted by a
strange white substance upon all the brushwood
around. On stopping to examine the plants, I find
M
162
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
the white desert snail in such abundance upon every
twig of the tamarisks, that at first sight it seems as
if the bushes are covered with blossom or fruit,
while the ground below is strewn with the shells of
dead snails. I break off some twigs to bring home,
and on one piece four inches long count fifteen snails,
so that scarcely anything else is to be seen.
Dr. Tristram identifies them as specimens of the
Helix candidissima and Helix variabilis. We com-
pared them together on my return with his specimens
brought from Kef, and find perfect correspondence
between them.
From the bushes all around bursts forth a shrill
noise like the escape of steam from a high-pressure
engine. The sound is heard loudly above the rattle
of the wheels. It is as astounding a sound as that
of the frogs in a marsh. This noise, which we hear
produced by the cicala.
in the semi-darkness, is
The other day in Malta a lady said, "I must apolo-
gize for calling when you are just going to dinner, for
I can hear that you are frying your fish." It was
however, only the cicalas in the garden.
7.45 p.m. Gloomy and weird are the walls of
the Holy City, as at last we approach them in the
semi-darkness. We can just see the great Minar
standing up against the sky above the dark houses,
and we pass strange forms moving stealthily over the
mounds beneath the great walls.
To-night we must remain without the walls, as
DECAPITATED CAMEL.
163
the gates will be now closed. A somewhat disre-
putable Locanda in one of the extra-mural suburbs,
kept by a Maltese or Frenchman, is, it seems, the only
place, save under the open sky, where one can sleep.
It is a drinking-place for the soldiers. At Kairwân,
however, one is prepared to put up with anything.
Hither then I direct Chicco, who with a dreadful yell
of profanities endeavours to prevent the poor horses
from falling exhausted to the ground. They struggle
on bravely, having travelled quickly since the morn-
ing (not much less than forty miles) without rest, and
without any refreshment save water. They will soon
have a long rest now.
We drive on and on until the carosse stops with a
jerk, and our equine quartette will not move an inch.
It is a dead camel that is in the way, and the road here
is narrow. In the darkness the djmil has a strange
look, for its head and neck are lying a little distance
from its body, and its Arab owner is busy taking its
skin off its ribs to sell in the Souk el Djulludîn.
Under the shadow of the great walls, on and on,
until at last we arrive at a Locanda, full of drinking
soldiers. They give way to no outburst of hospitable
delight upon our arrival, but I bring in my luggage,
and express my determination to stay. So I am
shown at last a bare white room, wherein is a pallet,
upon which I may sleep if I am insect-proof.
Here I am then, under the very walls of Kairwân
the Holy, for their crenellated summits rise in front
164
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
of my open casement, and I could easily throw the
soap I take out of my portmanteau into the midst of
the city of Okhbah.
Leaning out of my lattice, I look down on a
truly Oriental scene. Just below me, lit up in the
dark hot night by the lanterns hung upon the walls,
is an Arab café. Here sallow Kairwânis sit on
esparto mats in the open air, vociferating and smoking.
Wild and picturesque they are in their strange gar-
ments, lit up by the lamp, which also illuminates the
front of the white Moorish houses, and the great city
wall opposite.
Such a Babel of angry, excited sounds comes up
to me. They are engaged in some game of chance,
four playing and about sixteen looking on, the
onlookers as painfully excited as the players.
Hearing some weird Arab music near, in which a
single voice leads, and a chorus joins in occasionally,
I summon up courage to search for its origin. Putting
my revolver in my belt, I grope my way along in the
dark, until turning a corner I come upon a scene
which was truly a living picture out of the "Arabian
Nights' Entertainment." At an outdoor café beneath
the great walls is being held an Oriental concert.
A crowd of Kairwânis, in their turbans and gay
costumes, are gathered near a few lamps fastened
to the city wall. The Moors all recline on esparto
mats placed upon the ground, near two central figures
who play a bindir (tambourine) and a sort of guitar
DREAMLAND.
165
1
called a gimbrih. The effect is very weird as the
whole crowd joins in the quaint chorus. Arabs
have strong lungs if they have not a strict ear for
harmony. The music is something between a
Gregorian chant and a Salvation Army chorus, only
always slightly out of tune.
A Moorish attendant was moving among the
Kairwânis, and I made bold to recline upon a vacant
mat, and to ask for garhoor (coffee). When I saw
the Moor's expression, I wished I hadn't, especially
as the attention of my Kairwâni neighbours was
unpleasantly attracted to my semi-Turkish dress. I
paid for my cup of coffee, and felt easier when I had
moved into the darkness again, and heard the weird
chorus from a distance.
My Maltese, Chicco, having extracted some money
from me, has disappeared. He knows that he is to
be ready to start again in four days for Tunis; but
where he has gone I know not.
Returning to my room, I push everything against
the lockless, boltless door, lie at last on my pallet,
very tired, and am soon in dreamland. Yes, I am
back in the Middle Ages now? Verily it is the year
of the Hedjra 1300, and I lie beneath the shadow
of the walls of Kairwân! Oh Shade of Okhbah the
Mighty, and Spirit of Lord Muhammed's Companion,
be hospitable to a Wanderer from the Isles of the
North! My dreams, however, were destined to be
somewhat brief.
1
166
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
(
CHAPTER XVII.
THE 'HOLIEST SPOT IN AFRICA.
A cry in the night-Mueddin-roar-Inconsiderate Arabs-Enter
the Holy City-The Great Mosque-Quadrangle-Roman
inscription-The Minar-Adzân in English-View over
Kairwân-The "Don't-know" mountains-The Holy of
Holies-Pillar curse and pillar test-The Mihrab-The
Membar-Roman spoils-Okhbah's dream.
THE experiences of my first night at the Sacred City
were unpleasantly medieval. I had done my best to
barricade the door, and had fallen off to sleep, when a
horrid roar made me jump up with an almost electric
bound:
Opposite my lattice was the great wall of Kair-
wân, not fifteen yards away certainly. Just above
this was the roof of some minor mosque or the tomb
of a saint. Well, it might be two or three in the
morning, when from this roof came a shout such as
only a fanatical Moslem can give. At first one is
inclined to put down the tone of such a cry to rage or
to despair. Long drawn out, and bellowed with all
the force of Arab lungs, the cry seemed to be aimed
A HOWLing derVISH.
167
1
straight at me—“Es sallè kheir min en nûm.”
The
no-0-0-0-0-m" was drawn out, and hung on to
with all the breath that the Mueddin had, and then
followed for a moment absolute stillness in the dark
hot night. Far away over the city, however, came an
answering cry, faint with the distance, "Eshehedu enne
Muhammed rasul Allah.” And then came in a roar
from the Mueddin opposite the whole of the Adzân,
in which the other Mueddins of Kairwân joined.
At last this was over, and I was half asleep, when
I was roused by a hideous row below the window,
several Arabs calling with all their might for me to
come down and admit them. I looked out and in
the darkness could see some white objects below me
doing their best to get in, but I very much preferred
that they should stay outside.
As soon as dawn approached I began to make out
the objects in front of my window. The great wall
gradually became visible, and I saw that it was built.
of little light-brown bricks surmounted by crenel-
lations. A little to my right was the Bab el Djulludîn
or Skinners' Gate, a Moorish entrance which I
roughly sketched as soon as it was light. This
appears in an improved form upon the cover.
I was fortunate before I had been long at Kairwân
in finding a Moor whose fanaticism could be over-
come by silver coins, whose politeness made him
profess that he understood my Arabic, and who knew
the meaning of at least a dozen French words. I
168
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
never grew fond of Muhammed, I always distrusted
him, and yet I found him most useful to me. I
applied to the Ferik, the Tunisian authority, for a
firman to visit the mosques. The Ferik is supported
now by French arms, though he has native shaôushes.
Having obtained my firman, I had before me the
double excitement of entering Kairwân and then of
penetrating the Djâma 'l Kebir. The latter has been
the privilege of very few non-Moslems; the former
is no longer what it was, for in sheshya and white
flannel costume I passed between the sentries under
the Saracenic gateway with its double arch, and entered
the Holy City without opposition. Some people spat
as they passed me, and that was impolite. A small
boy cried "Dog," "Kelb," after me, but when I
rewarded him with a copper coin he followed me
with smiling face until he obtained another.
We traverse the quiet city by narrow back streets,
scarcely seeing any one as we pass along. Women
scarcely ever move about in Kairwân; "it is so very
sacred." That is the reason given, but it is a little
uncomplimentary. The Kairwân ladies when they
appear out of doors are invariably hidden in black
haics, which completely envelop them, and their
faces are covered with black veils. It is the women
of Kairwân who make most of the brilliant carpets
which are so much valued, and one of which lies now
in a northern vicarage.
At last we emerge from the narrow streets
THE GREAT MOSQUE.
169
to find ourselves before a long low line of white.
buildings, above which towers the great square Minar
of the Djâma 'l Kebir. This is none other than the
mosque of Sidi Okhbah. Great Moorish doorways
with melon-shaped fluted domes above their porches ;
these open into the prayer chambers or into the
great quadrangle where the Minar stands. Through
one of these we boldly pass, no one seeing us, and
find ourselves in the cloisters surrounding the vast
quadrangle. An immense quadrilateral space paved
with flat stones is baking in the fierce glare, and
through the interstices coarse grass forces itself,
and flowering plants, some of which I bring away
with me.
Underneath this great court are enormous cisterns
where the water is kept cool in the cavernous depths
below. The keys of the prayer-chamber are not to
be found, so we must return this afternoon to enter
the holy of holies in this "holiest place in Africa."
Yet we will ascend the lofty Minar now and
look down upon the city of Okhbah. There are one
hundred and twenty-nine steps, many of them
marble, carved and floriated, evidently the spoil of
some Roman temple.
As I was entering the door at the bottom of the
Minar my eyes were attracted to two large stone slabs
made use of in building or repairing. They contain
Roman inscriptions, which, however, were so little
understanded of the Moors that one is placed upside
170
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
down. Perhaps, with the many other Roman remains
to be seen everywhere in Kairwân, they come from
the ancient city of Sabra.* Causing considerable un-
easiness on the part of Moorish attendants, I hastily
copied the lower one into my note-book. It runs
thus-
ANTONINI FILII
AURELIIANTONINI
DIVINERVAEADNEPOTIS
TETDEDICAVERUNT
The upper stone, according to Davis,‡ Pellisier,§ and
Ximenez,|| reads:
HIC MAXIMI I
RATORIS CÆSAR
DIVI TRAIANI
CAED MFECERU
In the Corpus Inscriptiorum Latinarum (vol. viii.
No. 80) the editor has built up his conception of the
* "It was at first Sabra (twelve miles to the north), the
ancient Colonia Sabrata, fortified by Justinian, from whence
were taken most of the materials of the Grand Mosque;
then the Vecus Augusti (ten miles east), situated near the
Marábout of Sidi-el-Nane."-Jacassey.
† Mr. Broadley also gives these inscriptions (without com-
ment). I have not just now a copy of his work before me, but
my impression is that he makes the inscription run in five lines
and not in four.
‡ Davis, Ruin. Cit. in Afr., p. 375, n. 48, 49.
§ Pellisier, Rev. Arch., 1847, p. 263 descr. p. 410.
|| Ximenez, diar. I f. 139, v. f. 240 v.
A ROMAN INSCRIPTION.
171
whole original inscription, of which the above can
only have been fragments.
"Pro salute Imp. Cæs. L. Septimii Severi Pii Perti-
nacis Aug. Arab. Adiab. PartHICi MAXIMI divI
M. ANTONINI FILII divi Commodi fratris divi
Pii nep. divi Hadriani pron. divi Trajani Parthici adn.
divi Nervæ adn. et ImpeRATORIS CAESAR is
M. AVRELII ANTONINI pii felicis Augusti Imp.
Caes. L. Septimi Severi Pertinacis Aug. f. divi Anto-
nini nep. divi Pii pron. divi Hadriani adn. DIVI
TRAIANI Parthici et DIVI NERVAE ADNE-
POTIS. . . hanC AEDEM FECERVNT ET
DEDICAVERUNT.
"The Roman capitals represent the existing charac-
ters. The inscription first of all contains the names
and titles of Septimius Severus and his son Marcus
Aurelius Antoninus (Caracalla), and their relationship
with preceding Emperors. No doubt Geta was in-
cluded in the original, but his name was struck out
when he was murdered by his brother Caracalla.”
So writes Dr. Collinwood Bruce, who with his
usual courtesy readily interested himself in this in-
scription. His opinion cannot be valued too highly.
Arabicus, Adiabenicus, and Parthicus were of
course honorary titles of Severus and others. These
stones were two out of perhaps eight running along
the façade of the Aedes whose erection and dedication
it commemorated.
Climbing the Minar with my guardian Muhammed,
1
172
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
I found near the top in a corner a dark crimson flag
which an irresistible impulse caused me to take up
and wave.
This is none other than the blood-red
banner with which the Mueddin-in-chief signals to
all the lesser Mueddins of the other mosques that the
moment has arrived for calling the Faithful to prayer.
With what horror would the holy Mussulmans of
Kairwân be filled if they knew that an infidel Imaum
had taken the sacred banner into his hands, that
blood-red flag with which every Kairwâni is so familiar.
How often while at Kairwân did I see that flag
waved from the Djáma 'l Kebir and hear the long
wailing cry, the Adzan or call to prayer,
"God is All-Powerful.
"We proclaim that God is One only.
"We proclaim that Muhammed is God's Prophet.
"Hark! for Prayer.
"Hark! for Salvation.
"God is All-Powerful.
“There is but One God.”
To which is added in the evening, and through the
night,
"It is better to Pray than to Rest."
As the good Moslem hears these words he leaves
his work or his bed and obediently answers-
"Here I am at Thy Call, oh Allah, here I am at
Thy Call"
Down below us, as we lean over the crenellated
walls of the gallery, lies the venerable sanctuary with

MUHAMMED.
PF
JACASSY
AT THE TOP OF THE MINAR.
173
its white domes and snowy roof, its great quadrangle
and cloisters.
My guide Muhammed points out the different
mosques within and without the city walls. The old
tradition was that Kairwân contained five hundred
mosques, but that is not so. About sixty mosques and
over one hundred Marábouts. The latter are simply the
tombs of saintly Moslems, of whom an immense
number came and still come to Kairwân to die, as it
is supposed to be nearer heaven than most places.
If Kairwân is nearer to heaven than the rest of the
world, Muhammed and I must be much favoured, for
we are certainly nearer to heaven at the top of this
great Minar than any ordinary Kairwânis.
The view of the city and its surroundings is
certainly one of the strange sights of this old-world
continent. I was so struck with it that I must needs
climb the Minar once more in the afternoon to gaze
again upon the city and the plains beyond.
I could have gazed for hours on that scene,-the
dazzling mass of white roofs and melon-shaped
koubas, the crenellated walls girding the seven-sided
city; the burnt-up country stretching for scores of
miles to the north, even to the foot of the far-distant
Zaghowân range, and here and there a white
Marábout where the saintly tomb stands out dazzling
in the sun. Yonder is the faint track of the road
leading toward Susa, along whose weary length yes-
terday we toiled. To the north, from the Bab et
174
TO KAIRWẦN THE HOLY.
J
Tunes, a track across the plain stretches away to
the mountains, purple in the distance. The plain
is brown and yellow, and more or less desert, though
not approaching the brilliant golden hue of the
Sahara near Tripoli.
Down below us we see the erratic, crooked streets,
which, without definite purpose, seem to interlace the
city; white terraces on the tops of the houses, where in
the cool of the evening the Kairwânis sit to catch the
slightest breeze. A figure here and there hurrying
across a burning open space to get into the welcome
shade again, camels moving out through the gates
into the country, a train of donkeys with their drivers
passing into the city-a few signs of life, but very few.
Within it is almost like a dead city, while without the
walls are tombs innumerable, ruined and uncared for.
I made Muhammed give me the names of the
distant mountains, and I noted them down. On
looking at a French map of the country I failed to
identify any save the Ousselat range and the moun-
tains of Zaghowân.
The story is told, and it is good as a story, that
the French sent their officials through the country
with instructions to ascertain the names of the rivers,
mountains, ruins, etc. On the completion of the map,
a very large proportion of the places were found to
bear the name "Ma'arifsh." The proportion was
unnaturally large, and it was strange that ruins and
rivers and mountains should all be called “Ma'arifsh."
}
WITHIN THE HOLY OF HOLIES.
175
Yet all the explorers solemnly assured the authorities
that upon addressing the natives out of their phrase-
book in the set sentence, "What is the name of that
place?" the Berber, or Zlass, or other Arab had
replied, "Ma'arifsh." These mountains and rivers
and objects of interest were in fact all labelled with
the interesting name (in Arabic) "Don't know." River
Don't-know, the Don't-know Mountains, Oued Ma'-
arifsh, Djebel Ma'arifsh.
It was late in the afternoon when we were able to
enter the prayer-chamber of this great mosque of
Kairwân, when the Faithful were returning home after
due observance of the hour of prayer. Two soldiers
guarded the great door, as from the fierce glare in the
silent street I quietly glided in, leaving my shoes at
the entrance. Through the great doorway I passed
into the darkness of the many-pillared chamber, the
Holy of Holies. Vast, weird, and dark as we entered,
I felt a sensation of awe which almost chilled me.
A shaôush flung back two of the many doors open-
ing from the quadrangle and let in a flood of light
upon the forest of marble, the stone floor with its
many mats, and before me the holy spot, the Mihrâb
directing the Kibleh towards the one city holier than
Kairwân, great Mecca itself.
After the first sensation of awe had been overcome,
one began to feel inclined to criticise. Looking round,
there seemed, if anything, a want of height in this
Djâma 'l Kebir, when its size is taken into considera-
176
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
tion. It is in breadth something over eighty-five
yards, and in length about forty yards (more than twice
as broad as it is long). This great breadth is divided
into seventeen aisles by rows of pillars-one central
aisle, almost a nave, leading up to the Mihrab, enclosed
by two double lines of pillars, sometimes treble, and
with eight aisles on either side. The height of the
wooden ceiling cannot be more than thirty feet or so.
Of course in a mosque there is nothing upon the
floor save matting; no seats or pews, or anything to
detract from the height. The space above the arches
is filled with arabesque plaster-work, not very striking.
Upon the walls of the prayer-chamber may be seen.
the Arabic inscription, "Cursed is he who shall count
these pillars, for verily he shall lose his sight." And yet
I counted those pillars, and found them to be two
hundred and ninety-six in all.* Certainly my eyes.
smarted a good deal towards evening, and if it was
not the glare of the fierce sunlight upon the white
streets of Kairwân it must have been the effects of
this pillar curse.
Two pillars much polished and standing close
together attracted my attention, and I wished to
polish them a little more by squeezing between them.
It would have been satisfactory to have been able
to do this, for the Muhammedan tradition is that
* M. Jacassey says that the number is one hundred and
ninety-four (Harper, May, 1884). Perhaps the genii of the
Sanctuary removed some pillars during his visit, or added some
during mine.
+
THE PILLAR TEST.
177
he who passes between these two sacred pillars is
safe for Paradise, for he thus proves his purity of
soul. I suppose when very objectionable people try
to pass through that the pillars close together and
hold them tight, but for favoured persons such as
myself, the pillars should open out a little, and the
passage become easy. I approached the gorgeous
Mihrab niche, with its two red porphyry pillars *
and lined inside with lapis-lazuli and shell-shaped
designs in lovely marbles and mosaics. Here it is
that the chief Imaum stands, taking "the eastward
position" as he leads the devotions of the devout
Moslems.
Then I moved forward and stood within the Mihrab
itself, and examined and touched the exquisite carving
—stood actually on the holiest spot in Muhammedan
Africa. One almost expected the mosque of Okhbah
to fall and crush the infidel priest who polluted this
holy spot by his presence. I was reminded of the
words of Victor Guerin as to Kairwân (quoted in the
first chapter), "Here the Imaum, interpreter and
apostle of the Koran, has never found himself in the
presence of 'un Ministre de l'Evangile.'
Of course I was only here as a private individual;
* Mr. Rae says, "Hassan ibn Nouman, in the year 69 of
the Hejra, embellished the Mihrâb, transporting thither the
two superb columns, which still exist, of red stone marked with
yellow stains, once taken from a Christian church, and for
which the Byzantine Emperor had in vain offered their weight
in gold” (“Country of the Moors,” p. 295).
N
178
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
my mission to Kairwân was merely one of personal
interest in this African centre of a strange religion.
A lifelong training in the midst of this people would
be necessary before a missionary could hope to do
anything, and then he must be prepared to end a
career, possibly of usefulness, and that very suddenly,
at the hands of these fanatics.
To the left of the Mihrab, close to the porphyry
pillar on that side, is a large slab of white marble let
into the wall and encircled by a broad band of green
marble. It is a sort of memorial stone placed there
by the founder of the mosque, El Sidi Okhbah ben Nafi,
and bears some emblematic Moorish devices. Three
huge chandeliers, each with some seven hundred olive-
oil lamps, hang in the central aisle, and these are
lit up on the Muhammedan feast-days. To the right
of the Mihrab is the Membar (pulpit).
The pulpit is elaborately carved in some very
hard and dark wood. No two panels are alike; they
are all perforated in fretwork till they look like wooden
lace. Several of the panels under the stairs have
bronze hinges and open outwards, showing receptacles
in which books and rolls are kept. Close to the
Membar is the Maksoorah, a sort of vestry, formed
by a screen of the same dark carved wood, a retiring
place for the Bashi-Mufti and the Imaums, and which
encloses a considerable space at the east end of the
mosque.
The two hundred and ninety-six pillars in the
MR. HERBERT CARPENTER'S PAPER.
179
prayer-chamber of the Djâma 'l Kebir are mostly
Roman, the spoils of the whole of North Africa. One
or two seem to have come from some very ancient
church, for they have birds and flowers carved upon
their capitals, figures of living creatures being for-
bidden to be made by Muhammedans. The character
of these is considered ecclesiastical and Byzantine.*
The capitals often seem to be fitted on to pillars
which do not belong to them. Including the pillars
round the quadrangle outside, the total of the pillars
of this mosque is nearly five hundred.†
The great blemish and defect, to my mind, in the
architecture of the Sidina Okhbah is, that it has been
found necessary to strengthen the light Moorish arches
by carrying beams of dark wood from capital to capital.
This has too much the appearance of a temporary
scaffolding.
In a paper read before the Royal Institute of
British Architects, Mr. Herbert Carpenter has
strengthened the theory already propounded by
Mr. Rae ("Country of the Moors," pp. 296, 297), that
this mosque was in the mind's eye of Kaliph Abd-el-
Rahman III., the founder of the Mezquita of Cordova,
when he planned that most magnificent structure.
* Several little details have been brought back to my mind
on reading over Mr. Alexander Broadley's description of the
interior of the prayer-chamber, and I must here acknowledge
my indebtedness to him for many items of information.
† Here again is a divergence of opinion. Mr. Broadley
says 439, Mr. Rae 435, and the French plan gives 501.
1
180
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
I have not visited Cordova; but I have often
compared a photograph I possess of the interior
of this mosque of Okhbah, with a photograph of
the Mezquita in the possession of the Bishop of
Durham at Auckland Castle. They are both taken
from the same relative standpoints, and the views
through those two groves of pillars marvellously
correspond, and are eminently suggestive of one
common design.
Mr. Carpenter considers that the Djâma 'l Kebir
of Kairwân was the primitive model for mosques as
far distant in the West and East as the Great Mosque
of Cordova and the mosque of Azhar at Cairo.
The latter was erected by General Gouher (or
Jauher), the commander of the Kairwânis, who in
A.D. 937 captured Fostat (Old Cairo), and founded
a new city whose name should be like their own,
"El Kahirah" (the City of Victory). The mosque
of Azhar follows the general plan of the mosque
of Kairwân.
Mr. Rae's statement that the original Mihrâb of
Okhbah was covered up in 827 (A.H.) by Liadet Allah
ibn Ibrahim, is, I believe, the authority of Mr. Car-
penter for his theory that the present Mihrab is not
that of Okhbah. Mr. Carpenter considers that the
present position of the first Mihrab is within the
entrance porch of the Bashi-Mufti, opening into
the Maksoorah. The evidence, however, of the
porphyry columns of Hassan ibn Nouman establishes
OKHBAH'S DREAM AND THE MIHRÂB.
181
the claims of the present Mihrab incontestably, in my
opinion.
May not Mr. Carpenter's theory be accounted for
by an examination of the etching in the "Country of
the Moors," in which the dome of the Mihrab might
be supposed to be a dome over the Maksoorah? Had
Okhbah's Mihrab been where he places it, the mosque
must have been larger then than now. We have
records of enlargement, but none of the reverse.
If Mr. Carpenter ever visits Kairwân he will, I
feel sure, support me in my confidence that the
present Mihrab is the original Mihrab of Okhbah.
I will close this chapter on Kairwân's chief
mosque with an account, written by an Arab historian,
of the choice of its position. "At the moment
"when Okhbah was beginning the foundations of the
mosque there was a great division among the people
"upon the subject of the choice of a site. Okhbah
“had then during his sleep a revelation, and a voice
"from on high addressed him thus: 'O thou beloved
46
60
one of the Master of the Universe, when the morning
"shall have come, take the Standard, place it on thy
'shoulder, thou shalt hear before thee a recital of the
"Tekbir unheard by any but thee; the place where the
prayer will end is the spot chosen for the Kibleh,
"there place in the mosque the holy niche for the
"Imaum. The Most High God will protect this city
"and this Mosque: His Religion will there be es-
"tablished upon solid bases, and until the end of time
182
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
"there will the infidel be humiliated.' Okhbah awoke,
"deeply moved by such a Revelation; he performed
"his ablutions and repaired to the place where the
"mosque should be, to pray. Soon a Mysterious
"Voice struck his ear; he followed It, and settled
"upon the spot where the Voice ceased as the site for
"the Kibleh." *
* Translated from an article entitled "Kairouan, La Ville
Sainte de la Tunisie" in the Petit Almanach National de
France, 1882.
CURSED BY AN AGUZ.
183
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE KAIRWÂNIS AT HOME.
An aguz-Imprecations-Hats and saddles-Cruelty to horses
-Skin bazaar—Goats' horns-Buying carpet-Hadadi—
Thunderstorm—African solicitor and English—Barbary
barbers-Fez and Sheshya-Flies at lunch-Flocks and
herds-The Renegade of Kairwân-Monk and Moslem—
M. Soulie in Figaro-The Mahdi and Kairwân.
DISMISSING my escort, I roamed at large through
the bazaars and streets of Kairwân, often taking
notes when I could escape attention, but soon bring-
ing a sullen angry crowd around me on attempting
to sketch. An elderly toothless dame made a rush.
at me with clenched hands as I was sitting in one
of the bazaars trying to copy some ironwork on a
door. I anticipated a mobbing, when a Tunisian
soldier in blue jacket and white trousers intervened
and dragged her off.
May Allah cut out thy heart, and make thy
countenance cold." Impolite remarks of this nature
did the aguz howl at me as the minion of the Bey
tried to pacify her. She had seen that my head was
not shaven.
18+
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
Of course when a regiment of French soldiers
is encamped outside the walls, and a company or so
within the Kasba, the dangers of wandering alone
amongst these fanatical Kairwânis are greatly dimin-
ished. Yet they hate the Roumi with a good solid
hatred, increased materially since their subjection to
the infidel army, the pollution of their mosques by
the entrance of Câfrs, and the weight of a foreign
yoke imposed upon the "City of Victory."
I felt that I must be careful, for if some raging
Marábout flew upon me in order to gain Paradise
and its houris, my little revolver with its six cartridges
might be useless.
After wandering in the bazaars, I sat at length in
an Arab café. The caouadji (coffee-house keeper)
glided hither and thither in his bright turban, and
reclining near the entrance I watched the decoration
of the huge straw hats of the Djerîd, nearly a yard
across the brim, as they were being trimmed with
scarlet or blue ribbons in fantastic patterns. These
Mvellah are worn by the Bedouins and Moors in the
country over their sheshyas or tarbooshes, and so there
is allowance made for an immense head.
The next shop was full of brilliant trappings for
the Arab steed. Saddles with high peaks before and
behind, worked in filali-red morocco with green and
gold ornaments. Everything about an Arab's horse is
bright and picturesque, its head-gear of brilliant scarlet
leather, the stirrups huge and quaintly ornamented.
?

ATASS
גון!
STRAW HAT OF THE DJERID
ORNAMENTED WITH COLOURED TRIMMINGS.
STIRRUPS V. SPURS.
185
Long and wide enough to hold the whole foot, they
are sharpened at the corners, and with them the riders
slash the poor creatures' sides, until they suffer dread-
fully and have to be dressed on being brought in.
The Arab in theory is devoted to his horse. But see
him jerk the poor beast on to its haunches, or spur
him with these razor-edged stirrups, and you begin
to lose faith in the conventional Arab with his much-
loved steed.
In the skin bazaar, Souk el Djulludîn, an unpleasant
odour was more than perceptible as the Moors dragged
about freshly stripped goat and camel skins, shouting
with all the power of their stentorian lungs the
amount they are willing to sell at.
'Even so, even so, the hide of my brown camel
for a trifle!!
“Behold, oh thou, this valuable skin; in the name
of the Prophet it is excellent!!"
I saw a pair of long horns on the skin of a
silky black goat, and began to bargain for them to
take home with me. The Arab impulsively took out
a huge knife, and with a slash cut off the horns from
the skin and gave them to me, never asking for any
payment, but passed on crying out how much he
would sell the skin for. I never quite fathomed
that Arab's generosity, it was something so unex-
pected, and it often still puzzles me when I lean
back in my chair and look up at those long horns
from Kairwân.
186
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
There were very few of the celebrated carpets of
the Holy City on sale in the bazaars. I was anxious
to obtain one of these brilliant Moorish rugs, worked
by the Kairwân ladies, and perhaps displayed my
anxiety too plainly, for in consequence the Muham-
medan shopkeepers professed great indifference as to
whether they sold or not, and after unrolling the
bright-coloured carpets, they speedily rolled them up
again, as if the Eye of the Infidel might damage their
brilliant hues. Nor was I at all anxious to buy at
the price they suggested, and, much to their disgust
(outward at all events), I proposed to give half of
what was asked.
I sauntered away, and later in the day I came
back, and sitting cross-legged beside an old Moor,
had the carpets again displayed. It ended in my
bearing off in triumph a brilliant rug, in which the
prevalent hue is dark crimson, and upon it is richly
worked arabesque patterns in violet and green, light
blue and yellow.
There were a pair of maternal wrists at home that
I wished to encircle with Hadadi-silver bracelets
manufactured by the Bedouins. Cross-legged and
patronising I sat in the little store of a stately Moor,
on the dais open to the street, and as he had not
what I wanted, the neighbours brought their goods
to me, which I examined carefully, always looking
at the silver mark attentively, just as if I knew
something about it. They seemed to be impressed,
TWO SOLICITORS.
187
When
and my behaviour evidently was a success.
I brought some gold out of my pocket, an unpleasant
expression passed over the face of some in the crowd
of onlookers, and I began to feel that perhaps
fanaticism was not the only danger for a solitary
infidel in Kairwân.
A strange darkness begins to overshadow the
city, the blazing sun is obscured, and the heat
becomes more intense, drops of moisture trickle off
the brows of the Moors, and a distant grumbling tells
of thunder. Down comes the rain in a solid sheet,
an unexpected sight in June in the city of Kairwân.
Seated at one of the entrances to the bazaars, I
watch the scene without and within. Just outside
across the street is a fountain and troughs for
watering the cattle. A score of horses, mules, and
donkeys are drinking and kicking, whinnying and
biting, plunging and rearing, while their attendants
are getting soaked through in the rain and are
execrating everything in expressive Arabic. "Oh
thou daughter of a naughty one, keep thy heels.
down." "Thou steed of Shaitan, wilt thou drink,
and cease to bite my ass's ears?' "May Azraïl
seize thee, O mare, if I chastise thee not."
I have taken my seat in front of a Koodjah's
sanctum and (naturally) feel at home. I look round
with interest in this African solicitor's office, and
wonder if a certain valuable document with blue
stamps, in which my name is prominent, would make
188
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
him interested in the Roumi reclining upon his carpet.
The legal gentleman, in snowy turban and scarlet
djubba, encourages litigation in the minds of angry
clients who sit cross-legged around him. Having
received advice (to the extent of 6s. 8d. or there-
abouts), they salaam and retire, and my "learned
friend" passes from common law to conveyancing.
The store opposite is interesting. It is closed,
when its owner is absent, by two folding doors, which
meet longitudinally, and open upwards and down-
wards. The lower shutter comes down on the divan
about a foot above the level of the street; the upper
one, when fastened up, makes a sort of canopy
above, from which hangs a short black iron chain
with a ring. The portly Moor coming back from the
mosque hauls himself up by this from the street into
his throne, and then, seated amidst his goods, he
looks for all the world like a Chinese mandarin in a
josshouse, surrounded by piles of henna, pepper, beans,
dirty green soap, whip-like candles, and other useful
articles.
I buy some of these strange candles, and also
invest in some henna, in order that any fair friends
at home who wish to dye their finger-nails a bright
carnelian hue may follów Oriental custom. I saw
many Moors with their legs tattooed in fashion like
the clocks upon stockings.
Until the rain clears off I sit and study Oriental
costumes and customs. A crowd of Moors at the
HE WRITES THE WRONG WAY.
189
entrance present an interesting study, in scarlet
djubbas, or chocolate and green. A tiny Arabette
in blue rushes wildly after a young bird, which tries
to escape, but is seized and borne off in triumph;
another Mauresque infant in scarlet, with a somewhat
faded, diminutive sheshya, gazes at the stranger in his
flannels and strange black-leather boots, and fear
seems almost overpowered by curiosity. He is
warned by his elders, "Touch him not; he is a 'cut-
off' one."
An uncomfortably important gathering begins to
make me the cynosure of neighbouring eyes, as
I scribble notes in my pocket-book. Some of the
onlookers, however, are amused to see me writing the
wrong way-beginning at the left-hand side instead
of the right, which every well-informed Moor knows
is the only correct way of writing.
An Arab boy with a tray wanders by in the
covered bazaar, carrying bun-like loaves of bread,
vociferating as he sells to the shopkeepers a supply
for their next meal, "Verily good bread and sweet;
oh, satisfy thy hunger." Yonder an Arab with one
eye leads another who has none. A large number
of blind people seem to live in Kairwân. They
must have been trying to count the pillars in the
Sidina Okhbah.
I wander through all the bazaars again and again,
passing along the vaulted corridors, with shops on
either side, each trade in its own section-one part
190
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
devoted to yellow slippers, another to dry goods,
another to woollen, cotton, silk, etc.*
66
"
* The description of the streets and bazaars given by my
good friend Jacassey in Harper is so vivid that I cannot
forbear quoting from it. "The small dilapidated shops are
'two or three feet above ground, and are furnished with awnings
"of boards, with matting at the sides, to protect them from the
sun. Open during the day, they are closed at night by a
"large door as high and as broad as the shop. On one side
"the tailors sit crouched, spectacles on nose, gravely plying their
"needles, following with paternal eye some little children with
"Semitic faces who gambol in the shop when they are not
"occupied in winding skeins of cotton, or in reading in a shrill
"voice from old greasy cardboard chapters from the Korân.
"Elsewhere the braziers hammer those curious brass vases
"whose original forms make them sought for as ornaments.
"Here others are polishing the long gun-barrels, and in-
"crusting and damascening with arabesques the butt-ends of
"muskets and blunderbuses. There still others are stitching
"with silver and bright woollen threads saddles and game bags
"and pieces of harness. Further on others are kneading cakes,
"while near them are cooks tending the hot display of merca
"(meat with sauce) and of mergaz (fried sausages), which they
"sell by the portion.
r
(6
"The first impression as one enters the bazaars is vague
"and confused. From the narrow streets, crudely bright, one
passes under the dark arches, where objects can be dis-
tinguished with difficulty; where the side galleries open, the
"light varies sharply in intensity. Sometimes a bright ray of
sun cuts the shadow like the flash of a Damascus sword, and
"makes the millions of impalpable atoms sparkle in a golden
"haze; then little by little the eye accustoms itself to it, and
one may admire at leisure the bits, the bridles, the velvet and
morocco saddles constellated with embroideries, the rare rich
"stuffs woven with gold. . . . It is curious and amusing enough
to look about the shop of an Arab, and these good people
"allow you to inspect everything, and, in order to detain you,
46
66
THE SIGN OF THE CROSS.
191
The storm has passed away, and already the
ground is nearly dry under the scorching sun.
Buying a hatful of mishmash (apricots), I enjoy
the luscious fruit and feel happier. In and out
among the tortuous streets all over the city, and some-
times obtaining a momentary and interesting glimpse
of an interior where carpet weaving was going on;
I notice especially the ornamental work upon the
doors of many houses, where the wood is studded
with nails in pattern. It is strange to see the Sign
of the Cross in a very central position in this rich
arabesque ornamentation. It is quite prominent
again and again, and this in the home of Muhammedan
fanaticism.
66
"hospitably offer you coffee. The real charm of the bazaar is
"in contemplating the movement about one. The shops are
surrounded with narrow stone pavements, two feet high,
serving as a show place, between which are the roadways
"like little ravines. There, encountering and mingling with
"each other, are the cavalier, the frightened camels, the
caravans of asses with their modest gait, sometimes loaded
"with bricks, filling the baskets attached to their pack-saddles,
"sometimes with wood or with fresh herbs.
46
"Immediately after the prayer of the hasarr (at three o'clock
"in the afternoon) the galleries of the bazaars become the
"theatre of an auction sale. It is then that the tumult becomes
"indescribable. One's ears are deafened by the various noises,
"and it is with the greatest difficulty that one succeeds in moving
"about. Kairwânese and nomads come to put up for sale
carpets, coverlets, burnooses, made by their wives, and old
"gold and silver jewelry. They cry the prices with a deafening
voice, meanwhile making the tour of the galleries, holding above
"their head the objects for sale, in order to attract attention."
66
192
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
The barbers' shops were amusing. I did not
patronize them, but I often lingered as I went past
and watched the Moors, unturbaned, having their
heads shaved and their ears manipulated, while on
the wall were little mirrors and razors.
The Moor has his forehead and back of his head
shaved, but leaves a substantial lock of hair on the
top of his head for the Angel of Death to carry him
by to Paradise. The Aïssaouia usually have thicker
bunches of long hair growing on the top of their
heads, and when they are performing the rites of their
confraternity, they jerk their heads backwards and
forwards and this hair comes all over their faces.
The Muhammedans all wear upon their shaven
heads a fez, in North Africa generally known as a
sheshya or chaciah, while the better class wear under
it a white cap, or lining, which preserves the fez in a
clean state. The Constantinople fez is darker coloured
and has a thinner tail than the Tunisian sheshya.
In Tripoli and Tunis the tail of the sheshya is often
dark blue, and the thick material of the cap is con-
sidered bullet proof. Perhaps the tail originated in
the escape of the thick lock of hair through a hole
in the sheshya.* Round the fez a score of yards of
light gauzy material are wound to make the turban,
* It is said that Abu Hanifah wrote a treatise on the growth
of this lock of hair, advocating it, in order that in battle the
decapitated Moslem's mouth or beard might not be defiled by
an impure hand (Burton's "Mecca and Medina,” p. 159).
DESECRATION AVENGED.
193
and then, to give an artistic finish to this head-dress,
a flower is stuck just over the right ear, sometimes
a rose, often a small bouquet.
Passing back from the Bab et Tunes through the
city to the Bab el Djulludîn, I look in at the Kaid's
house close to the latter gate, and see the rooms
which the author of "The Country of the Moors"
occupied during his visit to Kairwân the Holy. Sidi
Muhammed el Mourabet, the governor of the city
and of all Southern Tunis, is a descendant of the
valiant Almoravides, once supreme in Spain. I leave
the city by the great double gateway, outside of
which two French sentinels stand, and return to the
Locanda.
The flies of Kairwân and I have déjeuner, and the
flies have a good time of it. About eighty disport
themselves upon my plate as a rule, the others cluster
upon different dishes and promenade my face and
flannels. I can sympathize now with the Egyptians,
for a plague of flies is very embarrassing; it is almost
like living in a beehive. Flies in one's meat, flies
rashly bolting up one's nose, flies committing suicide
in one's coffee and endeavouring to see what one's
cyes are made of, flies dancing upon one's hot face
and climbing up one's sleeves. Doubtless they are
determined to avenge the wrongs of the Tunisians
upon my Infidel person.
After déjeuner I lean out of my lattice, looking
out upon the great wall built of little light-brown
194
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
bricks. The sun pours down, and there is not the
faintest trace of the heavy rainfall of the morning.
But more is coming yet; the heavy clouds roll up
threatening as the thunder mutters and growls; the
rain is longing to fall. At last it comes down again
upon the thirsty earth, and every one rejoices, though
many a Mugrebi gets soaked to the skin.
As I write at my open casement I see a panorama
of Oriental life. Here come the flocks and herds of
a patriarch, the possessions of some well-to-do Moor.
First twenty she-asses with foals; then a dozen lady
camels, each with a dear little camelette running
alongside; then great flocks of fat-tailed sheep and
black goats innumerable; and lastly a score of great
he-camels, grumbling at the wet and the thunder and
everything, although they have no loads on their
backs. Two or three sunburnt Arabs follow, with
the hoods of their djubbas over their heads, and the
whole caravan passes away into the country.
The rain ceases and all is dried up again. A little
Arab girl comes by with bangles on her ankles, her
face disfigured by the dark-blue tattoo-marks down
her nose.
She is rattling some coins in a little wooden
basin, and soon she returns with something sweet
in it, into which, after the fashion of Roumi children,
she often dips her finger as she struts along in her
bright dress.
Across the road, before some sheds where an old
man and a donkey live, a dozen Moors sit engaged
A RENEGADE MONK.
195
in conversation, and each is a perfect study. One with
a crimson turban round his tarboosh, in which is placed
(over the right ear) a lovely flower; yellow slippers,
"handsome brown legs," white sirawal, and delicate
saffron haic gracefully thrown over a chocolate djubba,
rather open at the neck and trimmed with bright
green, setting off a fine face, with a pointed black
beard and dark eyes and eyebrows. Following
nature in these countries, it is the male that is seen
in gay plumage; the women of Kairwân go about
hidden from sight in black haics. After all, is the
cock or the hen the best dressed, the duck or the
drake, the lion or the lioness, the peacock or the
peahen ? The men here put ladies at home com-
pletely in the shade. Even Parisian ladies would
declare their toilette "la plus adorable."
Readers of Rae's "Country of the Moors" will
remember the interesting account there given of
a certain French renegade whom the author met
in Kairwân while still a sealed city. He had left
his own country, broken his monastic vows, and
sought in the retirement of this old-world city peace
of mind in the strange faith of Islam. I made
inquiries for him in Kairwân through the Shaôush
Muhammed, and though I was not able to speak
to him, he was pointed out to me, just entering a
mosque.
My Shaôush pointed to a fairly tall dark Moor
with bowed head, putting off his yellow slippers
196
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
as he passed into a mosque built into part of the
market, and hurriedly exclaimed, “Le Français, voila!
voila!" It was only a momentary glimpse, but it was
interesting to see one who in this nineteenth century
would deliberately turn from Monk to Moslem and
rest satisfied in his new faith. He is a most devoted
Mussulmân, never omitting his due rakaats when
the Adzan sounds from the many minarets of the
Holy City. What a change from his life in the
monastery of La Trappe! Can one understand any
one giving up any form of Christianity for the faith
of Muhammed? It was a terrible blow to “El Hadji
Ahmed," as he is now called, when his former fellow-
countrymen appeared as the conquerors of Kairwân.
He had hoped never to meet again the inhabitants of
the land he had renounced.
I was told that he often sits with other Moors
sipping coffee when not engaged in his work of
teaching the youths of Kairwân; and that on some
occasions French soldiers on leave have come by
accident into the same place for some coffee. They
have been astounded on being addressed by a Moor
not merely in good French, but in the language of
one of high culture, accustomed to the most refined
society. The account of his long interview with Mr.
Rae is exceedingly interesting and should be read by
all for whom such a career has any fascination.
The Parisian Figaro has put forward a very
plausible story, the hero of which is, strangely enough,
THE MAHDI AND KAIRWÂN.
197
a Frenchman who has been living at Kairwân. It
says that he has lately joined the Mahdi, and is now
his right-hand man. One is tempted to think that
it is our friend Achmet, though his previous history
certainly does not correspond with that given by the
Figaro as the record of M. Soulie's life. It certainly
seems likely that El Sidi Achmet would link his
fortunes with those of the Mahdi, and this he may
have done since last June. Undoubted is it that
communication is kept up between the confraternity
of the Kadria, whose záouia is just within the ruined
bastion, and the Soudâni Messiah, who belongs to
that very order of Abd-el-Kadr el Ghilani.
Soon after the great battle of November 3rd last
year, the Mahdi's emissaries arrived in Tunisia, and
one of the first to receive the news of his triumph
would be the solemn conclave of the Kadria, elated
with a hope that the day was not far distant when
the Infidel should be once more driven far from the
sacred city, and El Mahdi should reign from the T
to the T, from Tangiers to the Syrian Tripoli,
198
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
CHAPTER XIX.
ENCOMPASSING THE CITY.
How to spell Kairwân-The City of Victory-Thermometer,
140° Fahrenheit-Dying camel-Booma-Gate of Peaches
or Greengages-French camp—The Mueddin with my flag
—The Mahdi again—Abd-el-Kader el Ghelani-The Kasla
or Keshla—Suburb Jibliyeh—The Zaouia Tidjania—Mosque
of the Olive Tree-A Khaukh-Suburb Kabliyeh-A
shrunken city-Sketching the Great Mosque-The sacred
well and the greyhound Baruti.
THE name of this Holy City of Kairwân is spelt in
many different ways by various authorities. The
French-whom Colonel Playfair follows-have it
Kérouan; Herr Glesser writes Quayrouane, Leo
Africanus Cairaouan, Sir Grenville Temple El Kir-
wân; the Kairwânis themselves, according to Mr.
Rae, pronounce it Käyrawán.
Its meaning, according to Dr. Shaw, is simply
caravan, a place of meeting; but Kahira, victory,
is more likely to supply the root of the word. Its
present position is certainly a sad commentary on
such a name.
A SURVEY IN 1877.
199
As I mentioned in the opening chapter, Mr. Rae
(in 1877) was the first to make plans of Kairwân and
the Great Mosque-and at considerable personal
risk. He had no compass, and was guided simply
by the position of the Mihrab. In this only was
he partly misled, for the Kibleh of the Djâma 'l
Kebîr turns more to the south than to the east,
owing to some error in calculation on the part of
Okhbah or his followers.* The Kairwânis, on
seeing Mr. Rae in European costume calmly prome-
nading round their walls and taking measurements and
angles, were naturally incensed, and it is a wonder
that he did not share the Marquess of Waterford's
stoning. His plan is wonderfully correct † in most
points, and would have been very useful to the French
artillery (who carried copies of it), if the white piece
of calico had not been waved from the great Minar.
I set off one day to walk round the walls, carrying
with me a little pocket compass, and the book con-
taining the plan. It was midday, and the heat was
* Nothing, however, will ever persuade the worshippers in
Okhbah's mosque that he was mistaken in following the super-
natural direction given by the cessation of the Tekbir. "The
accuracy of the site of this Kibleh is regarded as such that the
Imâm-turning neither to right nor to left to allow for possible
inaccuracy turns direct to the Kibleh" ("Country of the
Moors," p. 294).
† Mr. Raẹ measured the walls with his walking-stick, and
gave 3500 yards as the result (including every projection); the
French engineers gave as a total 3385 yards, but they did not
include the extra measurement of the projections.
200
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
something beyond imagination, simply scorching,
withering, fiery. All the Kairwânis were indoors
for their siesta. I took my thermometer with me,
and holding it in my hand it soon registered 140°
Fahrenheit. This of course was in the sun.
Passing out by the Susa gate, known as the
Bab el Djulludîn, or Gate of the Skinners, I made
my way to the north-east, passing the great enclosure
where the deep underground cisterns lie covered up
from the hot sun. I was interested to see what had
become of the dead camel which had blocked the way
for the carosse the other evening. There was scarcely
anything of the carcase left; beasts and birds had
speedily effected a removal of the mortal remains.
of the poor djmil. Strangely enough, there was
another dying camel lying there, with a small pile
of hendi before it, and the poor beast's sufferings were
sad to witness. It must be a favourite place for the
departure of camels' spirits—just as the Moors prefer
to die within yonder walls.
From this point the walls run in a north-easterly
direction for about eight hundred yards, being some
thirty or forty feet in height. They are built with
light brown bricks, each little brick an oblong four
inches long. The walls are finished at the top with
crenellations rising a couple of feet, each a foot apart.
A little distance from the walls are mounds of
rubbish here and there, and now and again a drainage
opening is seen in the walls.
THE OWL AND THE INFIDEL.
201
Not a soul was to be seen; the sun was too
much even for the Moors. A booma flew out of
its nest in the wall, and being dazzled and blinded
by the light, it could scarcely fly, and I gave chase,
pleased at the idea of adding a Kairwân owl to
my curiosities. The chase was not successful, and
the booma regained its hole. I clambered up the wall
and put my arm into the hole, but it was too deep.
The walls are much the same as far as the Gate
of the Peaches,* half round towers standing out at
regular intervals. Yonder, round a well, is an en-
campment of French soldiers, and under the great
gateway of the Bab el Khaukh sentries stand in the
deep shadow. From the Bab el Khaukh onward now
to the end of this stretch of wall is about two hundred
yards. Mr. Rae makes this side of the city bend
rather more than it really does, for from the cisterns
to the Marabout near the eastern extremity, the wall
runs almost in a straight line. As I passed the camp
considerable interest began to be displayed in my
movements, and the French army developed a spirit
of inquiry. My nationality was a difficulty to many
of them, and some, I learnt, took me for a Turkish
officer.
Passing under the eastern tower I saw the muzzle
* Broadley corrects Rae's translation,
khaukh, green-
درخ
براقة
gages. Rae is considered correct, however. x durrákah
is peach proper; khaukh is the common term for both fruits.
202
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
of a cannon peeping out in a threatening way above
me, but it did not go off; then, turning the corner,
I began to skirt that portion of the wall which runs
parallel to the Great Mosque.
A little way from the wall I sat down, and roughly
sketched the great Minar, when the Mueddin came
forth, waving my dark crimson flag, and with a
discordant, ill-tempered voice seemed to abuse the
Faithful for not coming to prayer more regularly.
All around me the baked plains were burning hot;
indeed, the ground was so heated that through my
boots it almost scorched my feet.
Turning the northern corner, I passed down the
north-west side among the ruinous graves that lie
scattered all around.
Here is the great ruined bastion, and just within
it is the lofty white dome of a záouia, which may yet
become historical. When wandering through the
narrow streets within, I looked with interest on the
great copper-covered doors of this building, the
head-quarters in Kairwân of the great confraternity
of Abd-el-Kadr el Ghelani, to which Muhammed
Achmet el Mahdi belongs, and with which he
doubtless keeps up communication.* All the more
important citizens of Kairwân belong to this secret
society, and the successes of their victorious confrère
and leader have elated them with the hope that they
* See article in Pall Mall Gazette by Mr. Broadley, last
November, upon the Mahdi.
MORE ABOUT THE MAHDI.
203
may yet drive the hated Roumi far from the walls
of a city unpolluted for a thousand years by such
presence.
Passing on along the walls, I came to the castle,
here called the Kasla, or Keshlah, and not Kasbah.
Here is another of the five gates into the city, the
Bab el Kasla. Into the city certainly, but not
directly, for first you must pass through the great
courtyard of the castle, and then out again by a
smaller entrance into the town. It is not used as a
thoroughfare. In the Kasla were quartered French
infantry, who seemed overdone with heat. A large
cistern in the centre was used continually by the
thirsty soldiers.
After inspecting the Kasla, I returned through the
huge gates, and passing down the fifth side of the city,
I entered the suburbs which extend to my starting-
point (Bab el Djulludîn). That which we now enter is
Jibliyeh. It surrounds the market-place, where in the
open air a fair is held on Monday mornings outside
the Tunis gate. Here is another of the Medressas or
Muhammedan colleges of Kairwân, that of the Záouia
Tidjania, which leads the most liberal and free-
thinking of the Moslem schools of thought. The wall
here gives a greater bend than in Mr. Rae's plan,
almost coming out at right angles after passing the
Tunis gate, forming what may be called the fifth and
sixth sides of the city.
All the way round the city, on the inside of the
204
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
wall, is a fairly wide terrace, four or five feet below
the summit, so as to allow soldiers to stand and fire
between the round-headed crenellations. The wall
itself is on an average seven or eight feet wide. Past
the next tower, and the wall almost runs due south
past the new gate and the suburb of Kabliyeh.
There is nothing striking about the Bab el Djedîd,
but nearly opposite, a little south, is the Mosque
of the Olive Tree, whose strange Kufic characters Mr.
Rae has correctly delineated.
Colonel Lyon Playfair did not seem to recognize
this. In his subsequent "Travels in the Footsteps
of Bruce" he probably saw another inscription, an
inscription which I copied from the záouia of the
Aïssaouia in the Kabliyeh suburb, and which may
also be seen, I believe, on other mosques. It runs
thus-
)FOCO AL
Like the inscription on the Olive Tree mosque (which
exactly coincided with Mr. Rae's copy) it is also in
raised bricks, repeated upon each of the four faces
of the Minar.
Six years ago, besides the five gates of Kairwân,
Mr. Rae found three posterns through which one
could pass by bending low and squeezing between
AN ENLIGHTENED MOOR.
205
two smoothly polished pillars placed in the wall.
One only of these Khaukh now exists, opening into
the Kabliyeh suburb. I passed through it, and found
myself in the street which encircles the city inside.
the walls. I came out again through the Khaukhat
and continued my circumambulation.
A young Moor had been watching my movements
for some time, as with note-book, plan, and pencil,
I inspected the walls. I invited him to come and
look at Mr. Rae's sketches, and I showed him the
picture of the Great Mosque, whereat he was intensely
delighted, and cried "Maléh! Maléh!" (Good!) The
plan also interested him intensely, as he recognized
well-known sites.
*
* I cannot resist quoting the amusing account given by the
author of the "Country of the Moors," of his circumambulation
of these same walls.
66
"The appearance of an Infidel in his ordinary dress, with a
"large sheet of paper, on which he was recording his measure-
CC ments of their venerated wall, caused dissatisfaction among
"the people and they began to collect round me. I had sent
Perruquier and one soldier to the silversmith's to get the
"bracelets, the other soldier and the old barber remaining
"with me.
As we went on the Moors followed, not liking the
'proceeding. First there was a crowd of fifty, then of a
"hundred finally I had a mob of a hundred and fifty march-
“ing in silence on my heels. Whenever I halted, to make the
measurement from tower to tower or to take an angle, they'
"halted too. The whole thing was exceedingly funny.
tr
"First went the old barber, then the soldier, then I, then the
"mob. At a
sudden pause they would almost run over
one another, and come crowding to look over one another's
"shoulders, wondering what the tall lunatic in the Frank dress
206
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
So here I am back at my starting-point after about
an hour and a quarter's progress round the walls of
the Holy City. If one can bear the heat there is
no time like midday for roaming at large and taking
notes, for nearly all the Kairwânis are in their houses.
This broiling heat is too much for even the most
fanatically inclined Moslems. It would be difficult
to raise a crowd. Eleven hundred years ago, if tradi-
tion is true, instead of being able to walk around the
walls in an hour, more than three days' journey would
be required; and children had to be labelled with
66
was about.
Every now and then came a murmur suggestive
"of the Arabic word for brickbats, and I still think that if one
"of them had picked up a stone, many more would have done
"the same. It seemed a droll thing to be marching round the
"walls of an old sacred city in Barbary, with a crowd of men
"about me, satisfied in their consciences that I had no right to
"be there, and yet none of them molesting me. The boys and
"youths were disposed to grow insulting.
*
*
*
*
"Here the crowd, who had fancied I would enter by the Gate
"of Skins, which would lead me to the Kaïd's house, began to
"think that I was not going to stop, but circumambulate the
"walls without end. They began to draw back and curse or
"insult me and when I had gone fifty yards further they
"stopped and raised a cry, a kind of groan and yell in one,
"which their pent-up feelings gave a remarkable vigour to.
"This encouraged passers-by, and they too cried and hooted :
“Kalb! Khansir! Kafir! Yahûdi! There would have been
"no satisfaction in putting twenty or thirty to death where all
were equally interested and I reflected, too, that I had no
special African evangelizing mission which would have justified
me in making war on my own account-so I went tranquilly
on, and terminated my labours where I had begun."
66
.66
46
46
A NATIONAL CRISIS.
207
name and address in order that when lost they might
be returned without delay.
I was anxious to obtain a sketch of the Great
Mosque, and so entered the Bab el Djulludîn, and
passed along the inside of the wall. One can
almost walk round the city inside the walls, though
the road is blocked in some places by projecting
walls. Near the Gate of Peaches I ran up some steps
and stood on the terrace (about four feet wide) below
the crenellations, and looked out over the heated
plains, with their interminable gravestones, and saw
the French soldiers encamped round the well. Being
abused by a member of the French army for examin-
ing the fortifications, I maintained great self-control,
and resolved not to make it a cause of an Anglo-
Gallican Conference.
In the great space to the south-east of the mosque,
I sat down on a stone and began a sketch of part
of the true eastern side. Some low buildings between
me and the mosque had to be ignored in order to
get a pleasant view. Dark-visaged Moors began
to watch the performance from different points,
and children crept up to see what the infidel
was doing. They ran off delighted when copper
coins were distributed, and despite the scolding and
threats of their parents, soon returned, crying “Kif-
kif." The crowd rapidly increased, but I soon had
done all I wished, and moved on to sketch one of
the Moorish doorways of the western side. Standing
208
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
in a quiet corner, no one saw me for a little while,
until a young Moor swinging his arms came by, and
gave a shout of surprise. I should have been sur-
rounded if I had not speedily pocketed my book
and "moved on."
Parched with a consuming thirst under this
glaring, burning sun, I made my way to the sacred
well of Kafayât (or "enough"), on the eastern side
of the mosque, near which I had been sketching.
Some soldiers were drawing water, and they gave
me a drink out of a baráda. This well, besides being
sacred, is never failing, which is still more important.
A Sfaxine tradition says that the well was dis-
covered in the days when Kairwân was a-building
and its founders were parched with a consuming
thirst. A greyhound belonging to Okhbah came in
covered with mud, and the sagacious and considerate
animal brought its master to this well, which thence-
forward received its other name of Baruti, in memory
of the dog.
That it communicates with the sacred Zemzem
at Mecca is well known to every good Moslem, for
did not a pilgrim drop his wooden platter with a coin
nailed to the bottom into that holiest of wells, at the
birthplace of the Prophet, only to find it floating
in Baruti or Kafayât, as he journeyed home through
Kairwân the Holy?
My faithful Chicco has entirely disappeared, but
I live in the hope that he will appear according to
AT KOHOL.
209
compact upon the fourth day. M. Victor Guerin tells
us that pilgrims come to Kairwân to get "steeped in
the spirit of Islamism." I trust my thirsty little
Maltese will not be found to be steeped in a more
material spirit when the time comes for us to leave
Kairwân and its strange charms behind.
P
210
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
CHAPTER XX.
SAINTLY RESTING-PLACES.
Three hairs from Muhammed's beard-Tomb of the Companion
-Fanaticism-The hours of prayer-Beni Yssou-Son of a
gun-The anchors of Noah's ark-Reduction of Sebastopol
by Kairwân muzzle-loaders-Sacred swords-Sunday in
Kairwân-Worshippers in the Great Mosque.
MUHAMMED was waiting for me when I returned
from my circular tour, for he had arranged for a visit
to two very interesting tomb-mosques. One is that
of "My Lord the Companion" (of the Prophet)-
Abdullah el Belawi; the other of a modern and war-
like saint who was fond of anchors and cannon balls,
the Emir Abada. The former is about half a mile
north-west of the city, and can be seen from that
camel track which is known as the Tunis road. Once
more through the city; in at the Tanners' Gate,
along the main street, past the Ferik's house, and
the bazaars, through the Bab et Tunes, and so out
on the plain again.
Here we walked through part of the necropolis
of Kairwân-grave-stones with turbans carved at
A BARBARY BARBER.
21I
the top, grave-stones without, broken, ruined, marble-
slabs with ancient inscriptions, a veritable Gehenna
of Kairwân. Half a mile across the mounds we
saw a square pile of white buildings baking in the
fierce glare. A square Minar rises above them with
brilliant tiles, like dragon's scales, on its sides and
roof. As we approached we saw a Moorish gateway
and a courtyard within enclosing a mosque.
This is the resting-place of "My Lord the Com-
panion," he who sleeps with a hair of the Prophet's
beard upon each eye and on his tongue.* From
this circumstance a popular and erroneous idea has
prevailed that he was the barber of Muhammed.
The French still call the building the Mosquée du
Barbier. The name of this ancient saint, it is well to
remember, is simply Sidi Abdallah Ben Wadib el
Belawi, Saib en Nabi. Sidi is the ordinary title given
to a superior; Abd-allah, the slave or servant of God;
Ben Wadib, the son of Wadib the Belawite; Saib or
Sahib, the companion; en Nabi, of the Prophet.
The magnificence of this building far surpasses
anything else to be seen at Kairwân, while its sanctity
* M. Jacassey quotes the legend thus: "Sidi Sahib followed
the Prophet in all his expeditions, and lived under his tent.
One day, when the Prophet was being shaved, Mohammed gave
him three hairs from his beard-inestimable relic, which the
believer religiously preserved all his life. He came finally with
Ogbah to Kairwân, where he died. Then following his instruc-
tions, they placed one of these hairs on his tongue, and the
other two on his eyes" (Harper, vol. lxviii. p. 850).
J
212
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
is as great as, and by some considered greater than,
that of the Djâma 'l Kebir.
Passing through a Moorish archway out of the
glare, we entered an exquisite vestibule, with tiled
walls and floor, and vermilion ceiling. Thence, through
several Mauresque chambers until we found ourselves
in an open court, into which the sunlight blazed,
while round it in deep arcading ran a pillared cloister.
It seemed like an arabesque fairyland. I stood
almost breathless and gazed up at the richly carved
ceiling of the cloisters, the white marble pillars, the
black-and-white Moorish arches, the brilliant tiles
reaching high up the walls, the snowy Mauresque
designs above.
Dark and sullen stood the guardian of the shrine,
showing his strong feelings in an unmistakable
manner while Muhammed exhibited the Ferik's
firman. Slipping off my shoes and following these
two Moslems in their flowing graceful robes, I passed
down the cloisters until I stood opposite the entrance
to the Tomb of the Companion. Before passing in
to the chamber where he lies, I noticed a stone let
into the wall, with Arabic inscriptions, which tell of
the last governor of Kairwân and of the Sheikh el
Esran, a Muhammedan writer who lies buried here
near the "Companion."
In a room hard by is also the catafalque of a
Hindoo pilgrim of great sanctity, known as Abdullah
ben Sherîf, who died here in the last century.
GILDED PILLS.
213
At last we stood before the entrance to the tomb,
while the unhappy janitor unwillingly opened the
door. It swung in a huge marble doorway, with a
window on either side, evidently of Italian sculpture,
finished above in richly carved fruit and flowers.
The mosque, though built about A.H. 70, has been
repaired and practically rebuilt several times since
then.
We now passed into a chamber where few Chris-
tians have ever stood, and I beheld the very Tomb
of the Companion. Small stained windows of thick.
bull's-eye glass shed a dim light, while fumes of
incense hung heavily on the air. A great catafalque
takes up a large proportion of the chamber, and round
it a bronze lattice supported at the corners by marble
pillars. Over the catafalque rich palls are laid,
heavily brocaded, the upper one-green velvet em-
broidered with silver thread-being given by the
Bey. Above are hung many brilliant banners, also
ostrich eggs and large gilt balls of earth from
Mecca. (The symbolism of the latter, I saw sug-
gested somewhere is the gullibility of the Faithful,
who can swallow anything.) Gorgeous thick carpets
cushion the floor, the ceiling rises in a dome of
exquisite carved work, and from the centre hangs a
large glass chandelier.*
·
We passed out through other richly ornamented
* See accounts given in "Tunis, Past and Present," and in
article "Kairwân " in Harper, May, 1884.
214
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
chambers, and as I went through the door I offered
the fanatically sour-looking Moor some money. He
threw it down as if it had burnt him, but subse-
quently I saw him picking it up. It could not have
been that it was not enough. As we passed out
through the gate we were cursed by some Moorish
women at a lattice casement in one of the buildings,
who cried after us with shrill piercing voices. I have
not felt any the worse for it, but it must have been
rather emphatic to have made Muhammed look
solemn and walk hurriedly away.* Round this Tomb
of the Companion is a Medressa or seminary of Mussul-
mâns, one of the Kairwân colleges for the promotion
of fanaticism.
We entered the city once more, only to pass out
again into the suburb Jebliyeh by the Bab el Djedîd,
or New Gate. The Kairwânis are outwardly very
religious; one sees them streaming into the mosques
at the hours of prayer. An old Moor gathered up his
garments as he passed me, for fear my touch should
render him ceremonially unclean. The hours of
* The Kairwânis will never lose their fanaticism. Some of
them seemed to be misled by my costume and sheshya, but now
and again quite unwittingly one provoked some good follower
of the Prophet. M. Jacassey, too, had similar experiences. He
says, “But the scene changed when I arose to mingle among
the groups: the naked children who rolled themselves in the dust
fled at my approach with frightful shrieks; the mothers took
refuge under their screens, hiding their face in their hands,
and the men glared upon me with wild and hostile looks”
(Harper, May, 1884)
IT IS BETTER TO PRAY THAN TO REST. 215
prayer are five: (1) Before sunrise, (2) at noon, (3)
before sunset (about 3 p.m. generally), (4) during the
twilight, (5) when night has set in. The Mueddin
cries, "It is better to pray than to rest," and the
seventeenth Sura of the Korân enjoins the faithful
thus: "Regularly perform thy prayer at the declension
of the sun, at the first darkness of the night, and the
prayer of daybreak; for the prayer of daybreak is
borne witness unto by the angels."
Kairwân is the head-quarters of the Muhammedan
confraternity of the Aïssaouia. This name is variously
explained. Mr. Broadley and others simply find in
it a name for the followers of a Morocene named
Muhammed Ben Aissa, of Mequinez, while Dr.
Tristram is amongst those who consider that it means
"Sons of Jesus," Beni Yssou, and finds these devotees
trusting in a text of the Nazarene Korân (Luke x. 19),
"Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents
and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy,
and nothing shall by any means hurt you."
Many Muhammedans belong to the Aïssaouia,
which is an intensely fanatical form of Islamism. On
certain occasions (at Tripoli on the Marábout day)
they seem to lose their senses and to act like wild
beasts. My friend Abdullah ben Said, Miss Tinne's
servant, quiet and dignified as he generally is, rushes
about on these occasions in the wildest fashion, sans
turban, jerking his head about till the thick lock of
hair covers his face. When in this excited state they
216
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
will tear to pieces a live sheep and devour it, will cut
themselves with swords, and feed pleasantly on the
highly indigestible prickly pear.
The special correspondent of the Times (Mr.
Broadley) wrote in that paper an account of some
Aïssaouian revels which took place at their záouia, a
few doors from the Locanda where I stayed, and
which description also appears in his book on Tunis
(pp. 183, 184).
A mosque with six melon-shaped domes rises
above the Jibliyeh suburb, not very far from the záouia
of Sidi Ben Aíssa. It is the tomb of the Emir Ben
Said Bou Muphteh, or Emir Abada. This amusing old
Moslem lived about thirty years ago, and seemed to
have such power over the then Bey that he got any-
thing done he wished.* He wanted seven domes put
on his mosque, but only six were finished when the
Bey died. He had four huge anchors carried for his
delectation from Tunis and laid close to his house.
Probably they had belonged to some man-of-war, and
had been slipped hurriedly owing to weather or stress
of circumstances. Yet now they are undoubtedly the
very
anchors which held Noah's ark to Mount Ararat!
Their transport, Mr. Broadley tells us, employed five
hundred Arabs during five months. We further read
(in "Tunis Past and Present"): "During the siege of
Sebastopol, Amir Abada constructed two cannons
'with his own hands. He wrote to the Bey that the
"
* "Tunis, Past and Present."
}
"
WHY SEBASTOPOL FELL.
217
"Prophet had appeared to him and announced that on
"their arrival before the beleaguered town the latter
"would at once surrender. They were expeditiously
"forwarded to Tunis, and, at the Bey's pressing request,
"the Sultan sent a ship to convey them to Constanti-
'nople, and thence to the Turkish camp before
Sebastopol. By an extraordinary coincidence,
"within a few hours of their being landed the town
capitulated" (p. 174).
"
66
"
The tomb of this Conqueror of Sebastopol is very
plain inside. Round the domes run Moorish inscrip-
tions, and on the walls are huge boards painted black,
with yellow lettering in Arabic, and containing whole
Suras from the Korân. At the foot of the catafalque
are three iron shells (nothing in them), and some
cannon balls at the head. Upon the wall are colossal
swords of great thickness. I took down one and
found it fearfully heavy and of no use, as its edge.
was as blunt and thick as my finger. This was the
armoury whence M. Galea obtained the specimen
that I was shown at his house, the vice-consulate
of Susa. The blades are covered with closely written
inscriptions. A prophecy was made concerning these
swords, that so long as they remained in Kairwân it
should never be invaded.
Passing out through the nave-like entrance we
met some Moors coming in to pray, and they scowled
uncomfortably at the Infidel who so persistently
invaded their sacred places.
218
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
It is Saturday evening, and scorched and tired I
fall asleep very quickly on my rude pallet, and neither
voice of Mueddin nor the tom-tom of Arab concert
can awaken me, until the daylight streams in again
at the dawning of the second Sunday after Trinity.
For the first time I yearn a little for the country,
where to-day it can be said-
"Calm is the morn without a sound."
I sit at the open casement reading the lessons
for this Sunday, the histories of Deborah, Barak, and
Gideon. Now all seem so natural as they are read
in an Oriental light. One's surroundings here in
wild Kairwân would furnish living pictures for many
a sacred story.
Writing letters home, reading my Bible and
In Memoriam," the time soon passes. I stroll out
through the busy streets, alone in the crowd, and
as the afternoon passes, once more I draw near the
Djâma 'l Kebir.
The great door of the prayer-chamber is open,
and I stand silent and motionless, gazing on the
scene within. It is the hour of prayer, and in the
semi-darkness of the interior the stately Moors in
their snowy dresses lift up their arms, saluting the
Omnipotent, their God and mine, or falling on their
knees prostrate themselves in adoration, touching the
ground with their foreheads.
Listen to the words that many of them were
A SUNDAY NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN.
219
uttering—“In the Name of the Most Merciful God.
"Praise be to God, the Lord of all creatures; the
"Most Merciful, the King of the Day of Judgment.
"Thee do we worship, and of Thee do we beg as-
"sistance. Direct us in the right way, in the way
"of those to whom Thou hast been gracious; not of
"those against whom Thou art incensed, nor of
"those who go astray.
Most impressive was the scene, the bright sun-
light reflected from the white houses behind me, and
falling on the interminable rows of marble pillars and
on those white-robed devoted Moslems all intently
absorbed in their worship, until they rise murmuring,
"Allahu-ach-Kebar" (God is most great).
Here in Kairwân the Christian may learn a
lesson which the collect for this Second Sunday after
Trinity emphasizes, "Make us to have a perpetual
fear and love of Thy Name." The Name of God is
indeed had in reverence by the followers of the
Prophet, and they could pray the words of that
collect of Gelasius most heartily to-day, though, alas!
they could not, as we can, hopefully and trustfully
offer the petition in the Name which is above every
name, "through Jesus Christ our Lord."
* This is Al Fâtihat, the prayer offered on all occasions;
it is to be found in the first Sura of the Korân.
220
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
}
CHAPTER XXI.
IN BEDOUIN-LAND.
Farewell to Kairwân-Drive through the Sacred City-Out on
the desert plains-The mirage-A well at last-Bedouins
and backsheesh-Dr. Tristram's experiences in Tunisia-
Supper with the Waregrans-Bedouin hospitality and insect
life-El Menarah-Beer-el-Buwita.
UP with the Mueddin" might be the Oriental equiva-
lent for a certain homely proverb. The first Adzân
was echoing from the minarets as I rose on this my
last morning at Kairwân, and soon was strolling
through its sacred streets, already filled with early-
rising Kairwânis. Returning to the Locanda at six,
I found the four horses engaged in biting one another
and whinnying defiance, and my Kairwânic treasures
were being loaded.
After settling with the rascally owner of this
Roumi-fondouk, we were ready to start, our water-jar
was replenished, and with Arabic expletives the steeds
were urged into their best pace. The Tunis gate
lay at the far side of the city, and so we either must
drive around the walls, through the Kabliyeh and
TRIUMPHAL DEPARTURE.
221
Jibleyeh suburbs, or boldly drive into the city and
cross it to the Bab et Tunes. Sufficiently good reasons
were shown to Chicco why we should do the latter,
and emulate the example of the Gallic conquerors in
their triumphal march through the Sacred City.
In a moment or two we were clattering through
the deep archway of the Bab el Djulludîn and meeting
no opposition we trotted safely past the Caid's house.
Chicco never uttered a sound as he urged the horses
along the winding street, where the Kairwânis left their
work in surprise and rushed out to see an “Infidel”
driving through Kairwân the Holy. Here was a
Câfr, a Kelb-ibn-Roumi, seated amidst his luggage
in a Frankish carosse, rattling over the sacred stones.
Some few turbaned friends could not but laugh as
I touched my sheshya politely, putting on my best
smile, but others scowled and turned back to their
work muttering.
For the last time now through the great walls,
under the Saracenic Bab et Tunes, and out into the
busy market, foum-el-bab—without the gate, where the
Monday fair was being held. Out on to the hot
plains for our hundred-mile drive as we left the city
of Okhbah behind, and turned our faces northwards.
Away we went over the treeless plain, bumping,
rocking, and rolling, ever keeping the purple Zaghowân
mountains before us to the north. Lizards darted
over the burning sand, gigantic black beetles gazed up
at us with amazement, while ants rushed hither and
222
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
thither on the path of duty. Bedouin encampments
were seen now and again, camels grazing on some
scanty herbage, and little brown children chasing
across to intercept the carosse in the hope that the
Roumi would prove beneficent.
After about an hour I turned to look for the
last time at Kairwân the Holy. Far away behind
us the city walls stood out white in the fierce blaze
of the morning sun, the Minar of the Djâma 'l Kebir
rising above all, like a Mussulmân santon guarding
the African plains; an outward and visible emblem of
the spiritual domination of El Islam. How different
were my feelings as I looked back upon those white
walls and upon my experience within them, when
compared with the sensations which possessed me
last week, as from Sidi el Hani I first saw Kairwân in
the extreme distance, the evening drawing on. No
longer mysterious and dreadful, shrouded in uncer-
tainty, steeped in fanaticism, but almost homely
and familiar; containing many friendly Moors and
copper-loving children, the awful Djâma 'l Kebir as
familiar as Westminster Abbey, the sealed city now
unsealed to me, the last intact Moorish sanctuary
invaded by a Roumi Imaum.
One hundred miles of Bedouin-land to be traversed
-great plains sometimes perfectly desert, sometimes
a little cultivated in patches of barley, or flaming with
great bushes of oleander. At first it was desert,
barren desert. Not the brilliant Sahara-gold of the
i
A MIRAGE ON THE SAHEL.
223
interior, but a dun-coloured expanse, on which tufts.
of coarse halfa grass and stunted tamarisk bushes
were scattered, and strange ribs of dark rock jutted
up through the soil like the vertebræ of some
monstrous endless serpent.
Not many hours had passed before I saw a sight
always linked in one's mind with the desert-the
mirage, and this steadily kept before us through the
fierce heat of the day. Away on our "port bow," a
silvery line stretched along for about one-fifth of the
horizon. It grew into a lovely calm lake, a veritable
sebka or shott, with trees upon its farther bank, and
a white felucca sail which seemed to skim its surface.
The thirsty horses, covered with impalpable white dust,
and scorched beneath the blazing sun, pricked up their
ears and quickened for awhile their pace, but still the
lake kept ever ahead, or far away to the left. One
could discover by gazing intently that the trees upon
its farther bank were rocks apparently floating in the
air, and the felucca sail was part of the roof of a
saintly Muhammedan tomb drawn up into this silvery
phantasy produced by the fierce heat.
Through the heat of the day the mirage appeared,
sometimes in one part of the horizon, sometimes in
another, until we became quite used to it. After
journeying for four long hours from Kairwân, we drew
near to a well, an event indeed on the Sahel. The
poor horses strained and struggled as they sniffed the
water, and were all painfully eager for the first drink.
224
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
Poor Chicco lost his temper and spluttered with rage
as the four heads all tried to get into the one bucket
which we carried. How loathsome the water was! It
smelt horribly; none but horses could touch it. I
suffered dreadfully from thirst, my mouth became
dry and harsh, and for hours I could not get a
drink, for the water we had brought with us was
almost as vile as the awful liquid found in the wells,
and these were some twenty miles distant from each
other.
A hum of insect life went up as we rested a little
-dragon-flies innumerable, and from the tamarisk
bushes the cry of the cicala.
Half a mile from us a great flock of black goats
walked before a Bedouin shepherd, who stalked
along with his crook in his hand. The goats trotted
in front with their perky black tails on high, but the
sheep followed the shepherd. It is true in the East
that "they know his voice and are known of him."
An hour later we were rather embarrassed by the
appearance of a dozen Bedouin horsemen, who rode
down on us in the hope of getting some money. They
were mounted on fiery little Arabs, with coloured
saddle-cloths and huge cruel stirrups, and their white
haics flew gracefully in the wind. Some of them wore
the huge straw hats of the Djerîd, and strange objects,
many of them looked with their faces scorched into
an inky, dirty black. They rode round us shouting
at Chicco and the Roumi in white, and could easily
TRYING TO ONE'S NERVES.
225
have obliterated us from animated creation on that
great lonely plain. I was thankful when at last they
all trotted away, some laughing, some displaying
gleaming white teeth as they gave us a final scowl.
There is not much danger in Tunisia now; the
country is comparatively quiet, though Europeans are
occasionally attacked by the Arabs.* If, however,
several Englishmen travelled together, they would be
practically safe. In past years there was considerable
danger in travelling in Tunisia, but now it is some-
what minimized, or I might have found it more
difficult to get home from Kairwân.
Dr. Tristram told me, one evening after my return,
the interesting story of his adventures in 1857, when
he travelled in the interior of this country. One
is sorry that he has not had time to publish his
journals. Here is one of the incidents of his journey.
One evening, as his party were approaching the
Algerian frontier after a long fatiguing day, they
suddenly came upon the black tents of a douar of
Waregrans, one of the most dangerous of the border
tribes.
Dr. Tristram's party consisted of himself and two
*The following telegram appeared in the Daily News of
November 14th, 1883 :-"Four European merchants travelling
from Gallipia to Tunis have been assaulted by Arabs. One of
the Arabs having attempted with a dagger to wound one of the
merchants, the latter shot him with a revolver. The Europeans
then fled to Menzil Temim, where they asked assistance of the
governor. He having heard that the whole tribe was in revolt
answered that he had not sufficient force to protect them."
Q
226
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
English friends, some five or six servants, with horses
and mules. Their party, however, had been increased
by a score of hangers-on-disaffected Tunisian Arabs,
who sought to cross over to Algeria as the attendants
of El Roumi.
They were all sinking for want of water, and upon
seeing the Arab encampment, were overjoyed at the
prospect of quenching their thirst, not knowing at
first that they were Waregrans. The Bedouins
refused to give them any water, and professed that
they were about to move away to some spot where
water could be had, and that they had none for them-
selves. This was palpably a lie.
The English party did not carry a tent, and they
eventually succeeded in persuading the Waregrans to
pitch one for them. They refused to supply them
with any refreshment, however, and would not eat
"bread and salt" with them, but suspiciously watched
every movement in the English camp. The solitary
tent of the Roumis was pitched upon a slope of the
wady, on the opposite bank to the Waregran douar.
Wandering gradually away from his tent, Dr.
Tristram roamed about with an Arab attendant,
seeking water. Suddenly they came upon a Bedouin
boy from the enemy's camp tending cattle. He
was promptly seized, and, before he knew what had
happened, was safely gagged with a smooth stone
and a pocket handkerchief. The lad, who knew
nothing of the arrival of the Roumis at the camp,
DR. TRISTRAM AND THE WAREGRANS.
227
#
and who perhaps had never seen a white man before,
was petrified with horror.
With a pistol in one hand, and a Spanish dollar
in the other, Dr. Tristram told him to lead them to
the nearest water, and he would be rewarded with
one or the other as he was refractory or compliant.
The lad soon brought them to a delicious spring,
where they quenched their thirst, and filled some
vessels they had with them. Returning quietly to
the tent, they walked their beasts away at intervals
as if for pasture, but brought them all circuitously to
the spring.
Darkness came on, and Dr. Tristram and his two
friends retired to their tent to rest, but noticed that
across the wady all the Arabs were sitting sullenly in
front of their tents, watching every movement in the
Roumi camp.
The moon arose, shining brightly upon the Ware-
gran encampment, but leaving the interior of Dr.
Tristram's tent in darkness. The Arab sheikh and
two chief men came and sat in front of the Roumis'
doorway, as if for conversation. Dr. Tristram and
his friends wanted rest, and became wearied of
answering the Waregrans' questions, so, lying down
with their guns in their hands, one watched while
the others in turn slept. They had been asleep a
short time, when one of his friends touched Dr.
Tristram and whispered to him not to move much,
but that one of the three Waregrans had stolen his
228
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
pistol, and, with the other two, was examining it. As
they looked out into the moonlight there were the
three Waregrans trying in vain to work the repeating
revolver—a strange weapon to them.
Rising quietly, the three Englishmen covered the
three Bedouins with their guns, and cocked their
triggers, causing them to start. They were all
completely cowed as the three long barrels glistened
in the moonlight, a few feet before them. Quietly
the Arab who had taken the pistol brought it back,
and, entering the tent, returned it with thanks to its
owner. He was instantly pinned to the earth and
a barrel pressed to his forehead. "Order supper
for us at once or you shall die." He swore by the
Beard of the Prophet that he would, and was as good
as his word. They all supped bravely on kous-kousoo
provided by the Waregrans, and having tasted the
Arabs' food were safe.
"It was the will of Allah that we should either
sup over you or with you. It is Kismet.”
So the travellers, their attendants, and hangers-on,
all had enough and were well filled. Next day the
difficulty was to escape. As long as they remained
in sight of the place where they received hospitality
they were safe, but once away from that spot the
Waregrans might do anything they chose without
violating the Arab tradition. Dr. Tristram's account
of their strategic departure was as intensely interest-
ing as the history of his other Tunisian adventures,
7
LUNCH IN A BEDOUIN'S TENT.
229
and though his life has been in his hand again and
again in the East, he considers that his adventure
with the Waregran bandits brought him nearest of
all to a sudden death.
During this digression concerning the Waregrans
the reader may imagine us as having got rid of our
troublesome Bedouins, and toiling on mile after mile
over the blazing plains, gradually approaching the
Zaghowân mountains, with their quaintly shaped
summits and boldly defined strata.
After seven weary hours' of very heavy driving
we left the more desert land and found ourselves in
a comparatively fertile country, between the moun-
tains and the Mediterranean. We approached another
Bedouin douar, with its black goat-hair tents, passing
a scanty crop of waving barley, in the midst of
which wandered several pensive donkeys. I called
a halt for refreshment, and making obeisance, touch-
ing forehead and heart as I bowed, entered one of
the tents with the permission of its owner, saluting
the Arabs with the "Salaam alicum" ("Peace be
with you"). The Bedouins received me, and I
reclined on a piece of esparto matting while they
prepared coffee and boiled some eggs.
A little brown child with bangles on its ankles
sprawled about on the floor. A hole in the ground
was the fireplace, and the smoke, after making efforts
to destroy insect and other life, escaped as best it
could, mostly through the doorway. All around sat
230
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
and reclined brown, savage-looking Bedouins, more
or less unclean, conversing more or less in a shout,
their animated conversation (aided greatly by violent
gesticulation) chiefly relating to the stranger who had
come and taken up his quarters in their tent.
The women returned from the neighbouring well,
bearing their huge stone jars on their shoulders.
They were gracefully dressed in a loose flowing piece
of blue linen, with a reddish handkerchief on the
head; their dark faces fringed with coins, which hung
also on their breasts; their eyes were darkened; their
faces stained with henna, or tattooed slightly; and
they wore huge ear-rings, fastened to their hair, being
too heavy for the ear alone to carry.
Now and again an Arab horseman dashed into the
encampment on his fiery steed with brilliant saddle-
cloth, and drawing rein suddenly, leapt from his horse
and disappeared into a tent.
A huge negro, the attendant or slave of the chief
man, brought me an immense bowl of curds, "butter
in a lordly dish," and was quite gratified by my par-
taking of it, scorning the idea of remuneration. Our
horses were being refreshed meanwhile, and soon we
bade our Bedouin friends farewell, leaving a present
behind.
Through the afternoon, on and on over the treeless
plain, sometimes descending suddenly into a dry
wady or river bed, and then painfully scrambling
out at the other side. Signs of agriculture became
!. 1

·
1
- 10
BEDOUIN.
}
A BARREL LIGHTHOUSE.
231
frequent, and the creaking siniehs here and there were
yielding gushing streams from the great skin-bag, as
camel or ox descending the inclined plane drew up
the precious water.
The mountain range to the left acquired quite
a Dolomitic character, and about three o'clock we
were abreast of the "Three Sisters" with their
strange-looking summits.
Towards the end of the afternoon (about ten
hours from Kairwân) we approached a very interest-
ing Roman ruin. A stone-faced building, in shape
like a gigantic straight-sided barrel set on end, it had
huge projecting bands at intervals of five or six feet
all the way up. It was a squat tower, in height per-
haps sixty feet, and about thirty-five feet in diameter.
I find that Dr. Shaw says of it: "Two leagues
from Hammamet is the Me-narah, a large mausoleum,
nearly twenty yards in diameter, built in a cylindrical
form, with a vault underneath it. Several small altars
(supposed by the Moors to have been formerly so
many menara, i.e. lamps, for the direction of the
mariner) are placed upon the cornice and inscribed
with the names of
L. AEMILIO AFRICANO AVVNCULO C.
SVELLIO PONTANO PATRVELI. VITELLIO
QVARTO PATRI.”
I left Chicco, and walking across to the tower,
made a rough sketch from the west side, where the
232
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
C
view was nearly perfect. Fragments of stone lay
all around-the ruins of some considerable buildings.
An Arab shepherd was feeding his flock of fat-tailed
sheep under the shadow of the tower, camels were
browsing in the scorching sun, and cicalas buzzed
around. The Bedouin curs growled and showed
their teeth, as their owners suspiciously watched
me with my note-book. In the distance the carosse
was creeping on over the plain, and far, far away to
the east the blue line of the Mediterranean stretched
northwards to the white houses of Hammamet, the
Town of Wild Doves, circling round the bay.
We were near the end of our day's journey, after
fifty-five long miles over the burning desert plain and
camel track. For eleven long hours, which under
that sun seemed like days, we had jolted and rolled,
and Chicco had poured forth expletives until his
mouth was parched. At last, passing along one of
the finest hedges of prickly pear I have ever seen,
some fourteen feet high, we entered a white archway,
and found ourselves inside an Oriental caravanserai,
a Tunisian fondouk.
H. B. AND A. A. B.
233
CHAPTER XXII.
A NIGHT IN A KHAN.
The African traveller at Bir-el-Buwita - Fellow-travellers –
Bedouin camp fire-Insect horrors-A British subject-En
route to Tunis-Barley harvest-El Khwin-Kroumbalia-
Hammam el Enf-Thascius Cyprianus-A Simoon-The
fire-horse-Camel dumpling-Farewell to Bedouin-land.
THE last night of 1849 was a memorable one for the
great African traveller Barth, and also for a certain
Arab caravanserai in Tunisia called El Bir-el-Buwita,
which being interpreted is "The well of the little
cupboard."
Henry Barth was setting out on his five years
wanderings in the interior of this "Dark Continent,” and
upon the second day from Tunis, December 31st, he
arrived at this spot. He writes, "I shall never forget
this the last night of the year 1849" (Travels, vol. i.
p. 2). At midnight, as the new year of 1850 came in,
Barth and his fellow-traveller Richardson exchanged
congratulations and good wishes, in which they were
joined by their Muhammedan servants.
Perhaps "Abd-el-Kerim," as he was known by the
234
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
Arabs, occupied the same little grated room which,
upon a midsummer night in 1883, was occupied by
a less distinguished visitor. It was very interesting
to come across a fondouk with such associations, to
find one's self in the Bir-el-Buwita of Barth.
The caravanserai stands on the Sahel, some miles
away from any building or village, the nearest being
at Hammamet, on the shores of the Mediterranean.
It is a two-storied white building, with an arched
entrance through which the camels and the country
carts pass into the courtyards in the rear. There
was accommodation for three classes of travellers:
the Bedouins, with their camels and donkeys, went
into the furthest courtyard, a colonnaded quadrangle
where, under the shelter of the pillared cloister, they
collected in groups or lay down for the night with
their beasts. The second-class travellers, consisting
of a few Tunisian Moors, stayed in another courtyard,
nearer to the main building, and hired one of the
stables which surrounded this quadrangle, paying a
few pence for the luxury, and in the warm weather
leaving their beasts outside,
For those who cared to pay more, there were two
or three rooms in the fondouk which you might
share with the fleas and rats. I was more anxious to
spend the night with the Bedouins in the farthest
courtyard, but Chicco interposed, and with significant
gestures gave me to understand why it would be
better to sleep in a certain room whose door had
ROUND THE CAMP-FIRE.
235
heavy wooden bolts. I did not, however, retire to my
room until late, and spent some time in making
friends among these swarthy Africans.
In front of the building, was the well where the
last comers were engaged in drawing water for them-
selves and their beasts. I hastened to get a drink,
but found the water very nasty, and only bearable
when made into coffee. Just inside the entrance was
an Eastern store where Arab provisions could be pur-
chased. Sour cakes of doughy brown bread were
displayed, dirty-brown salt, olive oil, and, what was
more acceptable, fresh eggs. The Moorish proprietor
sat aloft cross-legged, and graciously gave the
Wanderer about half the value of his money, while
Chicco acted as cook. On the other side of the
arched passage was a café. Here I sat cross-legged
among the noisy Moors and sipped my black Garfoor.
I got involved in an argument about Arabi Pasha
and the Mahdi, and thought it advisable to leave and
have a turn with the Bedouins.
The farthest courtyard was a picturesque sight
now that it was getting dark. Here and there a fire
was lit, and round it crouched and lay the Bedouins
with their animals. A camel with mouth dripping
from the well advanced with stately step and slow,
and looked round at the different groups to see where
he would be most comfortable. His owner's son,
holding on to his tail, drove him up to the family
gathering, and down he went on his knees after a
236
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
little grumbling, and the little brown children were
soon climbing all over their djmil.
The donkeys at one side and the family camel at
the other formed a rampart to protect from thievish
neighbours. By means of small bronze coins I soon
got the infant section of that family enlisted in my
favour, and then squatted down by the camp fire as
they cooked their kous-kousoo. The conversation was
not animated, but it was amusing; the tattoo-marks
on the Arabs' arms and faces supplying an interest-
ing topic, and a small brown precocity was delighted
when I made imitation tattoo-marks upon his arms
with a copying-ink pencil. The Arab damsels sat
round the fire cooking the supper.
At last I withdrew, and settled down on my
wooden pallet, with my revolver and money-bag
under my portmanteau, which served for pillow. I
had become somewhat used to ordinary bloodthirsty
insect life. The mosquito, the domesticated flea,
and its more objectionable partner in crime, might
work their wicked wills with impunity-it was a
necessary consequence of Oriental life. But at last
a horror is found which I cannot away with, a creature
which burrows in the flesh and lays its eggs, only to
be removed by strong chemicals. This night was
made memorable to me by being thus bitten, and for
days I was not in a happy frame of mind.
A fierce row at the door in the early morning
brought me with a bound to the great wooden bolts,
MEETING OF AFRICAN TRAVELLERS.
237
and, opening one of the doors which hung on a single
hinge, I found Chicco in a state of excitement. He
had some wonderful news for me; I could scarcely
believe him. I understood that there was actually
an Englishman somewhere, who had just arrived; so
I sent Chicco off with a card, and soon followed him.
I felt quite elated; so much had happened since I
had seen a fellow-countryman, and to meet an
Englishman in the Sahel was no ordinary event.
In a small crowd of Arabs outside I saw a white
sun helmet, and Chicco violently gesticulating as he
handed my card to a personage who came forward
to meet me. He lifted his helmet in the correct
manner-vide well-known pictures-and exclaimed,
"Mr. ——, I presume" (or words to that effect). I
returned his salute and we shook hands. The initials
of this African traveller, however, were not H. M. S.;
he was M. Paolo Bonavia, a British subject from
Malta, on his way from Tunis to Susa. It was very
pleasant to meet even an English-speaking Maltese,
and until my carosse was ready, I spent a most
entertaining ten minutes in hearing news from the
outside world in broken English.
My four steeds were not so bright this morning,
and on starting showed no anxiety to cover the
forty-five miles which lay between us and Tunis.
Before us, to the north, rose the mountains on the
Dakkul peninsula, on our left, to the west, the
picturesque Zaghowân mountains and Djebel Resass,
238
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
and far away to the right the snow-white cluster of
houses on the blue bay of Hammamet.
We passed our Arab friends of yesternight, the
domestic djmil swinging along and looking down
upon us contemptuously, the one-year-old baby sleep-
ing calmly on the top of the pannier-baskets, its
merry sisters running alongside and saluting the
Roumi mischievously, while papa was in charge of
the donkeys in front.
After dragging for miles over heavy red sand,
now descending at full speed into a wady and
crawling up the far bank, now passing among juniper
bushes in abundance, we entered a more fertile
country, and found ourselves amidst the barley harvest.
Very picturesque scenes surrounded us. Here the
dark-skinned gleaners were gathering up the stray
ears. An Arab woman with metal ornaments round
her face, and loose blue dress, was merrily laughing
with her comrade, and the swarthy husband helped a
little as each one gathered the sheaves into her bosom.
"All among the barley,
Who would not be blithe?”
Even the donkeys could not suppress a merry twinkle
in their eyes as they roamed at will over the unen-
closed field, while the reapers obeyed the behests of
some bright-robed Boaz sitting beneath a neighbour-
ing olive, and, binding up the sheaves, placed them on
the donkeys' backs and led them away to the garner.
After a couple of hours we come upon a clump of
SKIN THE GOAT.
239
•
dwarf palms, five or six, shivering in the breeze which
had sprung up. Here (El Khwin) are the ruins of a
village, depopulated, it is said, by a spring sending
forth bituminous water. It has since mended its ways.
Passing among blazing oleander-bushes of outrage-
ously huge dimensions, we skirted the gardens of
Turki, and drove down the long olive grove, whose
trees, planted with faultless regularity, stretched far
away on either side. Some four miles farther we
entered the village of Kroumbália, three and a half
hours from Bir-el-Buwita, and here we rested a little.
We were opposite the butcher's establishment, which
also was the chief and only café, and after watering
the horses Chicco foraged for Arab bread, eggs, and
mishmash, and soon I was swallowing hot black coffee
of a semi-solid description.
Our surroundings were interesting. Side by side
were a few Moorish houses of a tumble-down de-
scription, with sunshades or verandahs of rough earth
and grass stretching out in front of the doorways, and
under these sat and reclined the male inhabitants,
leaving their more useful halves, or four-fifths, to
work for them.
The owner of the café had just killed and skinned
a black goat, and was engaged in washing this object.
The operation caused painfully intense interest on the
part of a white-haired sheep dog, a hungry grey cat
who would have liked to come nearer, the row of Moors
sitting cross-legged in front of the café, and a legion
240
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
of black flies who covered everything. Yellow and
brown cattle, small but sleek, strolled up to the well
across the road, and had a good drink at the trough,
and then, looking round dreamily with superabundant
water streaming from their mouths, they turned their
tails upon the infidel consuming hubs, and wandered
back to their pasture.
Once more we were toiling onwards, and two hours
later rolled down to the beach of the Gulf of Carthage.
Over the deep blue sea shone out in the far distance
across the gulf the bright houses of Goletta, while
dimly on the horizon we could just see the familiar
isle of Zembra. Here the Zaghowân mountains end,
jutting almost into the water at Hammam-el-Enf, the
"Bath of the Nose," and along the mountain side we
could see the remains of Hadrian's great aqueduct,
which conveyed in olden days the waters of Zagho-
wân to Carthage, and now renovated leads them to
Tunis.
According to Davis we should place Curubis here
at Hammam-el-Enf, and if this is so, it is the spot
to which St. Cyprian was banished for the year
preceding his martyrdom. These rugged mountains,
this blue bay, must have been very familiar to
Thascius Cyprianus. Through a perfect simoon of
white dust we drove the last fifteen miles to Tunis.
No storm in the desert could surpass the blinding
hurricanes of fine sand which hid everything from
sight.
>
EH HINNY!
241
At last I get an awful shock. As we approach
the "Burnouse of the Prophet," we hear a rumble
followed by a roar, a rush of steam, and an engine
whistle, and actually a train dashes past us on its way
to Rhades! Oh, Shade of Muhammed! to what are
we come? Yesterday morn we left the Sanctuary of
the Moors, and here is the Flying Caravan of the
Câfr, within a short hundred miles!
It was in a steam tram-car, a few months later,
that I heard this story of an English driver who was
sent out from Tyneside when the locomotives were
first introduced to this African continent. One day
the passengers reported at the terminus that they
had run over a camel on the journey. The chief
official sent for William Smith, the driver, to give an
account of himself. "Yes," he said, "we ran over
"the camel, that's certain, but we did it 'clivvor.' Ye
"see, the beast was ganning along the line, and a
"native had a helter tiv him. When he seed the train
"a-coming he harled, and he harled, but the auld
"camel wouldna budge from the road. Of course I
"whistled tiv him, but it were no use, and as we had
"a good head of steam on, why, we went right at him.
"The native he screeched, and he ran away across
"the country; and when I looked back, well, it were
"a funny sight. For all the world, we had just made
“the auld camel into a brown dumpling, and I doubt
that native hasn't stopped running yet, nor hollering
"nayther."
R
242
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
Now we leave the fascinating uncertainty of our
life among the Bedouins behind us and we pass with
a bound into French civilization, into the wickedest
city on earth since the Cities of the Plain were burnt,
into Tunisian Paris with its broad streets and huge
hotels.
What struck me above everything, however, on
arriving at the Grand Hôtel, was the glass bottle of
perfectly crystal water in my bedroom. The number
of tumblerfuls that I drank that broiling afternoon
would endanger my reputation as an advocate of
temperance, but allowances must be made for a
hundred-mile journey under the African sun in June,
and the delicious liquid conveyed from the Zaghowân
mountains by Hadrian's Aqueduct.
CANNIBALISM IN TUNIS.
243
4
CHAPTER XXIII.
TUNIS, CARTHAGE, AND BIZERTA.
Morals at Tunis-Scene from hotel windows-The bazaars-
Story-tellers-Jew children at school-Serpent-charmers---
Author of "Home, sweet Home"-To Carthage by rail
-The lost slippers-On the Byrsa-Gulf of Carthage-
Æneas-The Tyrians-Hasdrubal-Perpetua and Felicitas
-St. Cyprian-St. Augustine-Bizerta-Jacassey.
THE Burnouse of the Prophet! Such is the pic-
turesque name which the Moors give to their capital,
as it lies dazzling white, stretching out along the
shores of El Bahira. The Prophet's cloak, however,
covers a city which can scarcely be rivalled in its
wickedness. One breathed more freely when, and
only when, one had left Tunis behind altogether.
It is not desirable to dwell upon this objectionable
subject, the morale of Tunis. Those who know the
city will know enough of its morals, and those who
know neither the city nor its inhabitants are happier
in their ignorance.
Odd things have happened here in past days. We
are told by the author of the "Etat des Royaumes
244
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
de Barbarie" (quoted by Mr. Alexander Broadley),
how Tatar Dey "enjoyed the rare distinction of being
eaten" by his displeased subjects. This was at the
close of the seventeenth century. One wonders at
their taste in eating a raw Tatar!
Mr. Wood tells us of an event which happened
more recently, when he was Consul-general at Tunis.
An unfortunate Israelite, by name Samuel Sfez,
being badly treated by some Moslems, cursed their
faith and abused the Bey. Being dragged before the
cadi, he was condemned to die by swallowing molten
lead, which should be poured down his throat. On
the 17th June, 1857, this was done. His head was
severed from his body, and kicked through the city
by the boys, and then smashed by the men with
stones.* With such zeal for their religion, one would
have expected the Tunisians to have reverenced
Muhammed's moral precepts more than they do.
Another incident. A year or two ago a Jewish
boy was playing with some Arab lads outside the
Mosque of the Olive Tree. One of the small Moslems,
seizing the Jew boy's cap, ran in at one entrance of the
mosque and out at the opposite door. The little Jew
promptly followed, and was put to death as he came
out at the other door.† I am not familiar with the
interior of the Olive Tree Mosque.
Among other interesting events during my sojourn
* “Tunis, Past and Present."”
† See "Country of the Moors."
MILITARY KNITTING NEEDLES.
245
here was the shooting down of a man scarcely one
hundred yards from us while we were sitting one
evening, in front of the hotel.
At Tunis, certainly, there is a gathering of the
dregs of degraded humanity, both male and female.
St. Paul describes some of the inhabitants very
graphically towards the end of the first chapter of his
Epistle to the Romans.
But to turn to less unpleasant topics. There is
much that is interesting in the capital of Tunisia.
Any one landing from a European steamer at Goletta,
and coming up to the city for the first time, could not
fail to be pleased with his Oriental surroundings,
strangely blended with European comfort in his hotel,
and many of the advantages of civilization. Leaning
out of the windows of the Grand Hôtel one always
saw something picturesque. A fine regiment of
Zouaves marched past, with their band leading them
on with martial strains. Very different are these
bronzed soldiers to the shabby little fellows one saw
at Sfax, Susa, and Kairwân. A contrast, too, to the
feeble soldiers of the Bey, who are simply a laughing-
stock, as they limp along in their absurd uniform, or
knit stockings in their sentry boxes-this really being
their usual occupation.
Within the walls the bazaars are very interesting
and extensive. I roamed up and down, and sometimes
sat in an Arab café and watched the Oriental story-
teller as, with graphic action and confidential tone, he
246
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
kept his audience spell-bound. Attendants noiselessly
handed coffee round and refilled the pipes, while the
entertainment would perhaps be varied by a perform-
ance on the gimbrik and bindir.
Looking in at a door in the Jewish quarter, I found
a boys' school, very similar to the Moorish schools at
Tripoli. At the feet of their master squatted some
twenty little Jews, all roaring the alphabet together:
<<
Aleph, Beth, Gimel, Daleth, Hé, Wau, Zayin, Heth."
Then they took a rest, and the master, stick in hand,
went on-" Teth, Yod, Kaph, Lamed, Mem, Nun,
Samech, Ayin," and the infantine chorus broke in
again, swaying backwards and forwards. This went
on until they got down to "Resh, Shin, Tau," and
then they began again.
Some snake-charmers were performing in one
street, and I was amused at the immense amount of
preliminary action indulged in to attract an audience.
Spreading a carpet, two disreputable looking Moors
sat thereon, one torturing a species of native bag-
pipes, the other discoursing those soothing strains
which generally proceed from a tambourine. Placing
a curious hive-shaped basket on the ground, the
chief performer howled and rushed round and round,
until he brought the neighbourhood together and
disposed them in a circle. Then he addressed a good-
sized snake in the basket, and exhorted him, in
the Name of the Prophet, to come out and show him-
self to the Faithful. He emerged slowly, and two

ORIENTAL CONCERT.
NACHTIGAL THE EXPLORER.
247
smaller ones also wriggled out on to the carpet and
produced an uneasy feeling in the front row of by-
standers, upon whom they looked round with open
mouth and forked tongue, and some of these in
consequence strategically moved into a less prominent
position.
Seizing the big snake, the charmer held him up
by the tail high above his face, and, opening his mouth,
pretended he was going to drop him down his throat.
Suddenly the snake darted at his eye; he dropped the
reptile as if red hot, and rolled over and over on the
ground in exquisitely simulated agonies. Money
showered into the circle, tambourine and bagpipes
kept up their merry discordance, and the crowd grew
larger and more interested.
I bore letters of introduction to Herr Nachtigal,
the famous African explorer, who lives at Tunis,
and I bear a very happy recollection of our brief
acquaintance. Herr Nachtigal is one of the greatest
living travellers, and has had the highest honours
bestowed upon him that Europe could offer. His
name has been more recently before the public as
having been sent by the German Government to the
West Coast. Bismarck has made a wise choice.
Since I saw him he has travelled to the Sivan oasis,
and interviewed the Senoussian Mahdi at Djardub.
In the English cemetery at Tunis for thirty years
have reposed the remains of John Howard Payne, the
author of words known wherever the English language
248
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
is spoken, words which have often caused tears to flow
in far distant lands. The author of "Home, sweet
Home," died far from home at last. He died here in
Tunis, on April 1st, 1852. Colonel Payne was twice
American consul here, and his countrymen erected a
monument to him in our cemetery. It was but a few
days before I arrived from Kairwân, that an American
man-of-war had arrived to take John Howard Payne
home; home to his own land, to be buried among his
own people. The tombstone, which until this year
was visited by all English and American travellers,
bore these words :—
IN MEMORY OF
COLONEL JOHN HOWARD PAYNE,
Twice Consul of the United States of America for the Kingdom
of Tunis,
This stone is here placed by a grateful country.
He died at the American Consulate in this city after a tedious
illness, April 1st, 1852.
He was born at the city of Boston, State of Massachusetts,
June 8th, 1792.
His fame as a Poet and Dramatist
Is well known wherever the English language is spoken through
his celebrated ballad "Sweet Home" and his popular tragedy
of "Brutus" and other similar
productions.
Around the stone were these lines :
Sure when thy gentle spirit fled
To realms beyond the azure dome,
With arms outstretched God's angels said,
Welcome to Heaven's Home, Sweet Home.
ALONG THE BAHIRA.
249
Tunis has been so often described, that a detailed
account of my four days' stay would scarcely be
interesting. A few words, however, as to Carthage.
The site of the ancient capital of Africa lies some
seven or eight miles north-east of Tunis, overlooking
Goletta, or La Goulette, the Tunis port. This is
called in Arabic Halk el Oued, the gullet or throat
of that river, which connects the Little Sea (El
Bahira), upon which Tunis is built, with the Great
Sea.
From Tunis to a stopping place near Carthage
one travels now by train! In an open carriage of
great width, with verandah above and a continuous
balcony along each side, we rode with a score or so
of tastefully dressed Moors. The line skirts that
huge lake of brackish water which lies between Tunis
and the sea and which is known as the Bahira.
In the radiant sunlight the lovely crimson-breasted
flamingoes stood fishing in the shallows or flew away
in long lines-snowy white one moment, and then, as
they wheeled round, changing into a sunset crimson.
Quaint old-world birds, with their slim long necks
and hooked bills, so Egyptian and strange.
Yonder is the old castle of Shikli, standing
solitary on its islet, the Chillon of this lake of Tunis.
Soon we swept away from the Bahira and steamed
along the plains, where the slow-pacing, forward-
stretching camels were moving along; and Bedouin
children shouted for joy as the little engine (from
250
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
Messrs. Sharp, Stewart, & Co.'s works at Manchester)
whirled us first to Malka and then towards Carthage.
We passed the lovely house of our consul, Mr. Reade,
its gardens shaded by stately cypress and palm, and
ablaze with scarlet gerania.
The Moors in the train enjoyed the whole thing
delightfully; some of them just like children. They
would not sit properly like we do, but, putting their
slippers on the floor, squatted cross-legged on the
seat like rows of tailors. I was immensely tickled by
one old Moor, who was so taken up with his ride in
the "fire-carriage" that he did not notice that the
vibration of the train, slowly but surely, was working
his slippers aft along the carriage floor.
"Great Muhammed!" he cried, in a sudden
paroxysm of grief. "In the name of the Prophet,
where are my blaghi ?" He thought that the Dog
of an Infidel had been playing a joke upon him, until
we quietly pointed to him the slippers slowly working
their way down the carriage. "Allah be praised!"
he remarked quietly.
I was the only passenger to alight at the stopping
place near to Carthage, and I salaamed to my
Moorish friends as the train trundled along towards
Goletta, leaving me alone; there being no station-
master or official, and not a soul within sight.
Under the blazing sun I found my way over the
mounds which mark the site of great Carthage, in
some measure resembling those "Graves of the Gods"
THE RUINS OF CARTHAGE.
251
at Upsala-Gamla, where Odin and Thor and Freya
lie buried. After a fiercely hot climb I stood upon
the Byrsa, and rested near the modern buildings of
the community of Notre Dame d'Afrique. What a
glorious view! and what tremendous associations, as
one gazed on scenes which have witnessed the
world's history!
From the heights of the Byrsa I looked down
upon the Cothon and the Portus Mercatorius, the
only distinct signs of Punic Carthage. To the north,
in the distance, are the huge underground cisterns,
colossal water caverns for the supply of the ancient
city. Ruins such as one expected there were none,
but everywhere the soil is mixed with pieces of
marble and masonry. "Delenda est Carthago," old
Cato used to mutter on all occasions. If his shade
ever hovers in the neighbourhood it must feel highly
gratified, for one could scarcely imagine any city
more completely wiped off the face of the earth than
Phoenician, Punic, Roman, Byzantine, and Vandal
Carthage has been.
And yet the more distant view from the Byrsa
must be the same as that which Hannibal, or
Augustine, or Okhbah beheld. The great bay of
delicious dark blue water, melting into emerald in its
shallower parts, stretches to the Great Sea in the
north, bounded as of old on its farther side by the
dark rugged mountain chain-masses of chocolate-
coloured rock piled one behind the other towards
252
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
Zaghowân. Over the face of the blue water dark
shadows are chased by the breeze as the light
cloudlets hurry across the sky.
Yonder, in the roadstead of Goletta, steamers
and sailing vessels lie at anchor, and in this clear
atmosphere look like toy ships which one could lift
out of the water by their masts and put back again.
They seem but a stone's throw from the port of
Goletta, though they are a mile or so really from
its cluster of white houses, and four or five miles
from the Byrsa. Where the promontory of El
Dakkul ("the strip ") joins the mainland I can see
the camel track from Kairwân passing out on to the
shore and winding beneath the rugged mountains,
and a few white dots show the position of the village
of Hammam el Enf, where the white dust still whirls
in colossal clouds.
This glorious bay, with many another, is com-
pared with the Bay of Naples, but I think the Gulf
of Carthage can never be surpassed, as it bathes in
African sunlight, dotted here and there with white
felucca sails, and stretching to distant Cape Bon and
to rocky Zembra down on the horizon.
Would the ships of Æneas, when forsaking poor
Dido on her funeral pyre, appear very much unlike
that fleet of balancelles passing away into the Mediter-
ranean?
Did not those mountains of Zaghowân and Djebel
Resass yonder look exactly the same, when the
THE MEN OF TYRE AND KART-HADACT.
253
first Phoenician traders found their way hither from
Tyre to build them a city to dwell in? It was in the
days of Jehu, the son of Jehoshaphat, sovereign over
the Nation of Monotheists, that these Baal-worship-
pers of Tyre brought hither the idols of that deity
whose images and altars Jehu was then so zealously
breaking down.* The world has grown old since
those days. Carthage has often risen and fallen since
then.
Arab children play among the ruins, and offer
pieces of stone not very different from hundreds of
scraps of ruins lying around, and expect to receive a
small fortune from the European visitor. One finds
it hard to realize that one is walking on the site of
busy streets, and within the huge walls of great
Carthage. The gardens of the monastery of St. Louis
are filled with Roman and Phoenician inscriptions,
and in their museum lamps, mosaics, and stone balls
used in the catapultæ; and as one sauntered under
the cypress trees and palms, one knew that here
was the site of the Temple of Esculapius, where
Hasdrubal's wife slew her sons and then threw her-
self into the flames rather than fall into the hands of
the conquerors.
Fat-tailed sheep, and bullocks no bigger than
small donkeys, roam among the ruins, obtaining a
scanty meal, under the charge of Arab shepherds
enveloped in their rough baracans. The black goat-
* See Bosworth Smith's "Carthage and the Carthaginians.”
+
254
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
hair tents on the side of the Byrsa are the homes of
those Arab women yonder who are gathering in a
thin crop of golden barley on the Magaria while their
little ones roll about in front of the tents. The corn
is pulled up by the roots and carried off on donkey-
back.
It is hard to realize that this is the city of Hamil-
car Barca, of Hannibal, and of Hasdrubal, and that this
was the scene of the fierce siege by the younger
Scipio, who left not one stone upon another in this
Capital of Africa. Julius Cæsar intended to rebuild
Carthage, but the execution of the project was left to
his nephew Augustus.
It was in yonder elliptical excavation near the
railway line that the great amphitheatre stood, and
there Perpetua and Felicitas witnessed their good
confession when they were cast to the maddened
beast which was to gore them to death, and finally
were slain by the gladiator's sword. This was upon
Geta's birthday, A.D. 202.
Not far from this spot the great Cyprian was be-
headed fifty years later. New Carthage was indeed the
stronghold of African Christianity, and it was in this
city that the great Council was held in 397, A.D., when
under Augustine, the Canon of Scripture was in great
measure decided, and the Bible was given to the
World by the Church. The sirocco-blast of Islam
has long since strewn the ruins of Christianity on the
African sands, and now there is no such thing as a
AN AFRICAN TOULON.
255
Moorish Church in Africa, where once Christianity
flourished.*
It was a few days after my wanderings amid the
Carthaginian ruins that I sailed away down the Gulf
of Tunis. Gazing for the last time upon old Kart-
Hadact, upon the Byrsa and the white houses of Sidi
bou Said, I felt I had been privileged to stand upon
ground almost holy with the associations of the
world's history. The year before, looking up at Mount
Ida, and upon the plains of Troy stretched out before
me, I had felt as I feel now, that if I had visited such
scenes a few years ago I might have been a more
enthusiastic classic, and certainly a more interested
student of ancient history.
About forty miles along the coast towards Algeria
is the town and great inland lake of Bizerta. The
importance of this vast land-locked harbour, con-
taining some fifty square miles of anchorage, has been
terribly overlooked by our Government. The French
army now occupies Tunis, which is described in this
year's "Whitaker" as "an informally annexed de-
pendency of France." The Bizerta lake, at a com-
paratively small cost, can be converted into a great
naval depôt, from which men-of-war may steam out
any moment and completely block this narrow part
of the Mediterranean, nullify our advantages in
as
See "History of North African Church," by Julius Lloyd
(S.P.C.K.).

256
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
holding Malta, and practically close up for us the
Suez Canal. Some day, when it is too late, England
will awake to find Bizerta another Toulon, and Malta
and the highway to India at the mercy of our Gallic
friends, the proprietors of that French lake commonly
known as the Mediterranean.
We came on deck after dinner, as we were
approaching Bizerta, and soon I was in a boat
manned by Sicilian boatmen, pulling for the shore.
Upon this last stage of my journey I was no
longer alone, but there was with me one whose name
has already been mentioned several times, and whose
handiwork in this volume conveys a better idea of
many scenes than any words of mine. My artist-
friend, A. F. Jacassey, whom I had met in Tunis, was
with me now, and he had some Sicilian jokes with
our boatmen. We glided over a calm sea, and in the
depths beneath us could see the rocks and seaweed,
and the fish looking up at us in piscine wonder.
We almost seemed to be floating in the air. We
sailed under the kasbah, and gliding into the harbour,
we landed in the Moorish Venice with its waterways.
and bridges.
We strolled through the quaint narrow streets,
and under the flying buttresses reaching from house
to house, reminding one of Tripoli. We crossed the
main channel which leads into Lake Tinga-the
proper name for the great land-locked harbour with
A TEETOTALLER'S BRIDGE.
257.
its fifty square miles of anchorage. We passed over
the connecting arm of the sea by an ancient bridge,
and then out through the city gate, where Moors were
congregated, and sitting cross-legged discussed their
neighbours' affairs. Returning through the town we
crossed over another arm of the sea by a narrow
bridge some seventy yards in length, about five feet
above the water, made merely of planks resting on
trestles, with no railing to prevent one falling over-
board. We are in a country of teetotallers.
Sitting at a Moorish café we sipped our little cups
of Arab coffee, and admired the bright dresses of the
crowd around us, lit up now by lamps hung upon the
walls. It was our last night in a real Moorish town,
and it was certainly a romantic scene, the last I
should see for some time in Tunisia. Gliding out to
the Ville d'Oran over the dark smooth sea, Jacassey
and I each took an oar, and chatted with our
Sicilian boatmen about a recent wreck on Cani Island.
At the entrance to the harbour, a red lighthouse on its
port side and a green light to starboard were reflected
in the calm sea, and with the crescent moon they
formed three streaks of light on the gently heaving
surface-red, green, and white.
Half a mile out to sea lay our vessel, with its long
row of bright cabin lights all reflected in the still dark
water below; and as we approached her, great
phantom barges glided slowly past us towards the
S
258
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
harbour. Their cargoes had been stowed on board
the Ville d'Oran, and stretching out their huge sails
to catch the slightest breath of air, they crept
silently homewards. "Farewell. Tunisia. Good-bye
to the Land of the Bey."
FROM TUNISIA TO ALGERIA.
259
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE HOME OF AUGUSTINE.
Algeria-Al Kalah-Bonah-Ubba-Broken cisterns-Statue
of St. Augustine-His "Confessions "-Thagaste-Monica
-Carthage-Milan-The great Bishop of Hippo Regius-
His life and death-A swim-Fishing boats-A rude picture
-Our drive-Farewell to Africa-Sardinia-Straits of
Bonifacio-Corsica-Ajaccio-Napoleon-Beaune-Snores
-Rhone-Musical mastication-Across La Manche-West-
minster Abbey.
""
EACH time I have sailed along this Algerian coast
and in the distance seen the "City of Jujube Trees
nestling under the shadow of the African hills, I
have longed to be on shore, to wander among scenes
which seemed familiar even though unvisited-the
spot where the great Augustine wrote his "Con-
fessions," and spent thirty-seven years of that most
valuable life.
At last the wish was to be gratified. The
early morning light dimmed the brightest star, and,
tinging the eastern sky with orange, gradually lit
up the dark mountains, till at last the fiery sun came
rushing up from the glistening waves. I turned over
in my hammock slung on the upper deck of the
260
TO KAIRWẪN THE HOLY.
Ville d'Oran, to see now no longer the Tunisian coast,
but Algeria on our port beam.
About 4 a.m. our engines slowed and stopped, and
we lay off the town of La Calle-the Moorish Al
Kalah. Wooded slopes rose far above the white
French town, and here and there on the mountain
side were perched yellow villas. Not a minaret, not
a Moorish building to be seen; in fact, nothing to
show one that it was Africa. We lay-to long enough
to impress the scene upon our minds-the long blue
waves swelling lazily towards the stony beach, the
white houses clustered together under the shadow of
the hills-and then we steamed away past the coral
fleet here at work, until, four or five hours later, we
were approaching the town of Bonah or Bone, lying
in its great bay, its background of mountains rising
from the blue Mediterranean.
Beneath the kasbah or fort which dominates the
town and harbour, two long white piers stretch out
into the sea-an unusual sight on the North African
coast. This is the first port where we have been able
to enter and make fast alongside a quay.
A crowd of Frenchmen, Maltese, and Italians
collected as the Ville d'Oran glided into the harbour,
and as we came alongside, a turbaned policeman
cleared a passage to the gangway. Practically we
were in France now-boulevards, hôtels, rues, churches,
cafés, shops-and scarcely a vestige of the Mauresque
to be seen anywhere.
HIPPO REGIUS.
261
Bonah is certainly a charming modern town, but
it is difficult to believe that one is not on the Riviera
in the Grande Place at Toulon, with the mountains
behind and the blue sea before.
The ruins of the Roman town of Hippo Regius (the
Carthaginian Ubba) lie a couple of miles to the south-
east of Bone. Hither we drove in the blazing sun,
but shaded by the huge white umbrella of our smart
calêche. The white hard road passes between lofty
hedges of prickly pear, aloes, and acanthus, and is
often shaded by veteran olive trees with gnarled
branches and dark leaves. Our cocher drew rein at
the foot of the hill upon which Ubba once stood, and
said that his steeds would not venture further upon
that broiling day. Jacassey and I, however, were not
deterred, and, following the winding road upwards, we
arrived at last at the bronze statue of Augustine, and
climbing further to the very summit of the Ubban
Hill, we stood and gazed at one of those glorious
panoramic views which owe so much to a clear
atmosphere and the rich colouring of a southern
clime.
The sun was at its meridian, and it poured
in its scorching strength upon us and upon the
distant red roofs of Bonah below us in the great bay,
which stretches round in a long sweep, its two piers
running out far into the dark blue sea.
Behind us
a long valley opened towards the interior, a white
road passing along it towards Souk Ahras. Massive
262
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
hills rose on either side of the level ground in this
valley, where cultivation is carried on as if in France.
As we sat on some stones--the remnants of Hippo
Regius-the ants ran wildly hither and thither, and a
hum of insect life pervaded the air. A chameleon,
who was startled by the intrusion of the two
wanderers, dodged up a tree and peeped down at us
blushingly.
The whole soil here is formed of stones and
concrete, marble and white plaster, but the only
substantial relics to be seen of Hippo Regius were
its huge cisterns on the hillside, the great reservoirs
some seventy or eighty feet deep. At one time these
were massively arched over, like the Carthaginian
cisterns, in order to exclude this African sun, but
here and there the roof has fallen in.
Their depths are now inhabited by some Bedouins,
and no longer contain the dark cool water. As we
looked over we saw below us the whole family of an
Algerian Arab, with his children and female relatives.
The usual yell of "Roumi! Roumi!" to which one
is now accustomed, came up from the cavernous
depths, as the brightly attired damsels pretended to
hide their faces, and peeped through their fingers. We
found our way into the cisterns from the hillside, and
here obtained an idea of their stupendous massiveness.
The scene was very picturesque as we looked up-
wards. Great masses of prickly pear hung down in
heavy festoons from above, and foliage and verdure
A TRUE MOTHER.
263
The
spread itself everywhere among the ruins.
Bedouin children watching us timidly and not heeding
the warning scolding voice of their dark-eyed mothers,
added colour and life to the already romantic scene.
Just above the cisterns has been raised in modern
times a bronze statue of El Roumi 'l Kebir* (as the
Moors call Augustine), encircled by iron railings. It
is not handsome, being less than life size, and neither
worthy of the place nor of him whom it is supposed
to represent.
And this is almost the scene he beheld when he
wrote his "City of God" and his "Confessions,"
though then around him would rise the houses and
churches of the first city in Africa, for M. de la
Primaudaie assures us that in Augustine's days
Carthage was often considered second to Hippo
Regius in prosperity and influence.
Away over those hills is Thagaste, now Souk
Ahras, where Augustine spent those early days so
familiar to us through his "Confessions," as he
studied the hateful Greek and was guilty of the boyish
theft he afterwards laments.
There Monica, the pattern of loving mothers,
watched over and prayed for that boy who was to
have such an influence upon the world.
At Carthage we looked upon the scenes of his
youth, where Manichæism and sin bid fair to mar
that useful life, and where Monica was assured by
* "The very great Stranger."
264
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
:
a certain Bishop that the child of so many tears
could not perish.
At Milan, again, it is not so very long since we
beheld scenes which were very familiar to Augustine,
when under Ambrose he found Peace in the Truth,
or walking in that garden on the Campagna he saw
the distant snow-capped Alps beyond Maggiore,
Lugano, and Como, when he was aroused by the
Take up and read, take up and read;" and here
we think of him returning to his Africa from yonder
distant horizon, motherless now, but no longer God-
less.
Monica, that devoted mother, had lived to see her
son a Christian, but she had been laid to rest at
Ostia. She was not permitted to see her Augustine
Bishop of Hippo Regius, and the leading mind of the
African Church. Often would Augustine's eyes fill
with tears when writing his "Confessions," within a
few yards of the spot where we stood, for he would
look out over the same deep blue sea shimmering
under that blazing sun, and his thoughts would fly to
the northern continent where he had left his mother
Monica sleeping near the yellow Tiber. Here in the
streets that then covered this wooded hillside he
might be seen in the black dress of the Eastern
cœnobites, and here, living a life of mild asceticism,
Augustine for thirty-five years ruled the Church in
Africa.
On August the 28th, 430, Augustine here breathed
OUR HEART IS RESTLESS TILL IT RESTS IN THEE. 265
his last, as Genseric's Vandals were battering in the
gates of Hippo Regius. A double blow was given
to the Church in Africa when these Arian Vandals
sacked and utterly destroyed the noble city, bereft
now of its spiritual head.
Such thoughts swept through our mind as we sat
amid the ruins of Hippo; and at last we descended,
leaving behind us the monument of the great Evan-
gelical Catholic of the early Church, as it stands
above the huge reservoirs of those old days. Now
we read with redoubled interest that masterpiece of
autobiography, a history which proves the truth
there asserted:
"Inquietum est cor nostrum donec requiescat in Te"
(Conf. i. 1).
The "Confessions of Augustine" are dear to me,
even as they were dear to my fellow-traveller.
Jacassey and I had a good swim together that
afternoon at the end of one of the long piers. In
spite of African sharks we plunged down into the
crystal depths of the dark blue water, and swam out
to a buoy, but dressed hurriedly on coming out of
the water to avoid the blisters that the terrific sun
threatened to inflict upon European skins. We had
rowed out from the inner harbour, and now, landing
at the lighthouse, we watched the balancelles, the
lanca di pesce, and, the coralliere sweeping homewards
before the breeze.
Lovely, graceful boats they were, each borne swiftly
266
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
onwards by the huge Venetian sail swelling out before
the fresh breeze. The whole fleet were making for
the harbour, and one by one they came along, racing
over the rollers, closely shaving the pier-head, and
then hauling down the great sail as they glided on
towards the inner harbour. We could almost shake
hands with the crews of picturesque Sicilians and
Maltese as the boats rushed past us. Down in the
bottom of the lanca di pesce leapt the silvery fish
just caught, and in the coralliere heavy masses of
coral lay piled as ballast and cargo.
The owner of B 86 wishes to immortalize himself.
As his balancelle came on plunging and tossing over
the white-crested waves, we saw an heroic figure
depicted in colours on the great sail swelling out
before the wind. Like an argosy of old with striking
scenes depicted on silken mainsail, the fishing-boat
came racing up in the breeze, twenty more close
behind. Horror of horrors, what do we see? Oh
degraded Sicilian, or barbarous Maltese, we are
ashamed of thee. The huge sail of B 86 bears the
picture of a man with his fingers and thumbs joined
but extended in front of his nasal organ !
We had an enjoyable ride through the suburbs of
Bonah, with their exquisite gardens. Towards the
mountains we drove, past Moorish burial-grounds
and under dark cypresses; then, winding upwards as
we turned seawards, we found ourselves near the
kasbah, looking down upon the rocks far below, where
41.
מנגינה.
>

AFJARNEY.
FELLOW PASSENGERS ON THE VILLE D'ORAN
MAL DE MER.
AFRICA TO EUROPE.
267
the transparent blue waves were curling over, and a
mule was being washed by a negro.
The negro
tucked up his petticoats between his legs and splashed
salt water over the mule's face to improve its com-
plexion. The mule found it monotonous, and was
backing away when we last saw it. Then, it seems,
we fell asleep, and our drive subsequently was not
a good investment.
This is the consequence of
getting up at 3.30 a.m.
As the dark hills of Africa sank into the sea that
evening I felt sad. Since we sailed under the moun-
tains near Tangiers on my journey out how much had
happened! Jacassey tried to cheer me with Arabic
stories, but not until two argumentative Frenchmen
in their intense excitement nearly got to blows at
the dinner table did I forget my sorrow.
I was
almost hoping that the upholder of the merits of
Algeria as opposed to France would have tweaked
his compatriot's nose, or jumped down his throat.
We coasted Sardinia next day. Along the face of
its precipitous cliffs, as they tower more than a thousand
feet from the sea, floated long lines of feathery clouds,
just as they cling to those heights of the Bürgen-
stock, rising precipitously from the Vier-wald-stätter
see, almost a counterpart of these Sardinian cliffs.
As we ran for Ajaccio that evening we had an ex-
quisite sunset. The mountains of Corsica pierced the
clouds behind the town which is the birthplace of the
great Napoleon, and upon the summits of the highest
268
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
the snow rested in large fields, and burned a lovely
rose colour as the sun sank into an unruffled green
sea; and soon Isola Sanguinaire and the rugged
mountains encircling the great bay stood out in black
shadows against the sky, downy streaks of cloud
strata lying along their sides weird and ghostly in
the half light. While we wandered in the streets of
Ajaccio a man was assassinated within a few yards
of us.
Jacassey and I wished to spend a day at Beaune,
that we might visit the celebrated Hôtel Dieu. We
travelled from Marseilles through the night in com-
pany with a dark-skinned Moor bound for Vichy.
The splendour of his snores astonished us. He
snored in pure Arabic, and almost caused the carriage
to vibrate with his musical efforts. At times one
expected that the roof of his mouth would finally
have given way and disappeared down his throat,
and yet he began again with renewed vigour, as if
determined to drown the rattle of the train.
In the early morning we were rolling onwards by
the banks of the swollen Rhone, whose brown waters
here are strangely different in colour and volume to
the stream issuing from its colossal icy birthplace at
the foot of the Fürcka Pass.
We wandered in the quaint streets of Beaune, and
were charmed with its cathedral, and especially the
ancient hospital for the aged and sick. They live
in the fifteenth century in that quiet and picturesque
END OF MY FIVE THOUSAND MILES.
269
old town. What an unwelcome change next day to
the glare and roar of gay Paris!
In the Champs Elysées was being held an
Exposition Alimentaire, and as an inducement to enter
the flowery placard announced a Fête pantagruelique,
and even Degustation gratuite. No wonder that the
Public paid its franc, and munched vigorously to the
"Overture to Faust," which the band of the 28th in
their gay uniform was rendering with Parisian
brilliance.
·
My friend Jacassey was on his way to New York,
I too had very welcome duties which summoned me
northwards to my insular home. Unwillingly I
parted with my cosmopolitan companion, in hopes of
meeting again on African soil, and the next morning
I presented my baggage to English custom-house
officers.
Some Parisians who had never crossed La Manche
before travelled up to town with me on their way to
the Fisheries Exhibition.
They were much excited on being in a strange
country for the first time. They beheld a number of
policemen on the platform of a suburban station.
"Voilà," cried one, "les gendarmes anglais !" They
all rushed to the window. "Parbleu! How big!
Mais où sont les épées ?"
*
*
From the Djâma 'l Kebir of Kairwân to West-
minster Abbey, what a change! With strong feelings
270
TO KAIRWÂN THE HOLY.
î
of gratitude, I found myself in the glorious old
fane, musing over the events of the last few weeks.
There I again offered my humble and hearty thanks
to the kind Providence which had brought me safely
through all.
Deep in thought, I almost forgot where I was, and
there seemed to ring in my ears the long wailing cry
of the Mueddin from the great Minar of Okhbah's
mosque―
"Allahu-ach-Kebar.
Allahu-ach-Kebar.
"Es sallè kheir min en nûm.”
(6
GOD IS MOST GREAT!
66
GOD IS MOST GREAT!
66
PRAYER IS BETTER THAN REST !
دو
INDEX.
A
Abdullah ben Said, of Khartoum,
58-63
Abdullah ben Sherîf, 212
Abdul Moulir, house of, at Sfax,
141
Ablutions before prayer, 86
Achmet el Hadji (the renegade of
Kairwân), 196
Achmet Rassim, the Pasha of
Tripoli, 107-III
Addar Ras (Cape Bon), 17, 18, 252
Adrumetum, 148
Adzân, the, 44, 167, 172, 270
Africa Cape, 144-5
Ain Zhara (the Saharan spring),
96, 102
Ajaccio, 267
Algeria, 259-267
Am Roos, 79
Asfachus, 133-143
Augustine, 254, 263-265
Azhar, the Mosque, at Cairo, 180
B
Bahira, El, 243, 249
Barth at Bir-el-Buwita, 233
Baruti, the well of, at Kairwân,
208
Baracan, the, 73
Bective, Lord and Lady, at Kair-
wân, 7
Bedouins, 101-156, 229, 230, 234
236
Beaune, 268
Bindiggah, the, 101
Bir-el-Buwita, 232-242
Bizerta, 255-258
Black Village, the, at Tripoli, 111-
115
Bonah or Bone, 260-267
Bon Cape, 17, 18
Borac Al, preface, and 96-106
Bordj Bou Leilah, 89 note
Broadley, Mr. Alexander, 8, 179
note, etc.
British Association, paper on Kair-
wân at, I
Byrsa, the, at Carthage, 252
C
Café at Kairwân, 164
Camels, on, 47-52
Cairo and Kairwân, 180
Calle, La, 260
Carpenter, Mr. H., F.R.I.B.A., on
the great mosque of Kairwân,
3, 179-181
Carthage, 249-255
Carthage, Gulf of, 17, 240, 252
Christianity and Muhammedanism,
48-52
Cicalas, 162
Comino and Cominotto, 20-21
Constantinople, Mosque of Santa
Sophia at, 41
Cordova and Kairwân, 3, 179–182
Curubis, 240
Cyprian, St., 240, 254,
272
INDEX.
D
Dakkul promontory, the, 18, 149,
237, 252
Djâma 'l Kebir, the, at Kairwân,
3, 168-182, 218-219; (For
other "Djâmas" see "Mosque")
Djerbah, Island of, 126
"Dunsford's " at Valetta, 25
E
Esparto market at Tripoli, 47
Esran, the Sheykh El, 212
Etienne, Gen., leads French troops
through, 7
Fatihat, Al, 219
F
Fez (Sheshiyah, Chacieh, or Tar-
boosh), 77, 192
Filfla, Island of, 27
Fior' del Mondo, El, 19
Fondouk, a night in a, 233–238
"Frederic" (Mr. F. Warrington, of
Tripoli), 64
Funeral, Muhammedan, 137
G
Galita and Galitona, 17
Ghabes, 128-131
Gibraltar and Kairwân, 3, 15
Gimbrih and bindir, 77, 164
Goletta, (La Goulette, or Halk el
Oued), 249
Gozo, 19, 20
Guerin, Victor, on Kairwân, 9, 177
Gulf of Carthage, 17
H
Hammam at Sfax, 140
Hammam el Enf, 240
Hammamet, Town of Doves, 18,
232, 238
Halk el Oued, 249
Halfa, Souk-el- (Tripoli), 49
Harem, a Tripolitan, 94
Hannibal, 145, 251, 253
Hasdrubal, 253, 254
Hermitage, the (Tripoli), 65
Hippo Regius, 261-265
Homt-es-Souk, 126
J
Jacassey, Mr. A. F., visits Kairwân
in 1881, 8; article in Harper,
8 note; 190 note, etc.
K
Kafayat, well of (Kairwân), 208
Kalah, Al, 260
Kairwân-Generally, 1-9, 159-221
Bazaars, 183-197
Bird's-eye view from Minar of
Great Mosque, 172, 173
Gates, Bab-el-Djedid, 204, 214
Bab-el-Djulludîn, 167,
210, 221
Bab el Kasla, 203
200,
Bab el Khaukh, 201 note, 207
Bab el Tunes, 203, 210, 221
Khaukhat, 205
Mosques-
Mosque and tomb of the 'Com-
panion,' 211-214
Mosque of Emir Abada, 216–
217
Mosque of the Olive Tree,
204
The Great Mosque (Djâma 'l
Kebîr), 168-182
Prayer Chamber, 175-182
Maksoorah, 178
Membar, 178
Minar (inscription on), 171
Mihrab, 175, 177-182, 199
Pillars, 176 and note, 179 and
note
Pillar-curse, 176
Pillars of purity, 176
INDEX.
273
Zaouias of Kairwân—
Abd-el-Kadr el Ghelani, 202
Tidjania, 205
Aïssaouia, 204, 215
(Inscription upon latter, 204)
Suburbs of Kairwân-
Jibleyeh, 203, 216
Kabliyeh, 162, 204
Walls of Kairwân, 199-206
Kerkena, sponge islands of, 133,
142
Khwin, El, 239
Kroumbalia, 239
Kuss-kuss-óo, 89, etc.
L
Legmi (tears of the date), 80
Lotos-eaters, island of, 125
M
Mahdi, the, of the Soudân, 104
note, 197, 206
Mahdi, the Senoussian, 103, 104
note
Mahdi, the, of Mahhdia, 145
Mahhdia, 144-146
Maltese islands, the, 19-27
Maltese, the, in Africa, 55
Marriage, an Oriental, 37
Marábout, 34 note
Medressa, 2, 24
Menarah, 231
Membar, 42
Mesheyah, the, 30, 72, 98
Mirage, 143, 223
Mihrab, 41
Minar, 45
Monica, 263
Monastir, 146
Moureddin, 155
Mosque, interior of the, 41-42
Mosques of
Tripoli-
Djâma 'l Gordji, 41–46
Djâma Shaib el Ain, 85
Djâma Bashaw, 85
Mosque and Marábout
Dragut the Corsair, 86
of
Mosques of
Sfax-
(Djâma 'l Bou Shouîsba,
Djâma 'I Kebîr), 139
Susa-
(Djâma 'l Natreddin and Djâma
'1 Kebîr), 148
Tunis-
(Mosque of the Olive Tree), 204
Kairwân-
Djâma 'l Kebir, 168–182
Mosque of Abada, 216–217
Mosque of the Companion,
211-214
Mosque of Olive Tree, 204
Mugreb, land of the, 39 note
Muhammed ben Aissa, 215
Muhammed of Kairwân, 168, etc.
N
Nachtigal, Dr., 103, 247
Nuklah, up a, 104, 105
Okhbah, Okbar, or Ogbah, 4, 5,
181
Ortegal, Cape, 13
Ousselat mountains, 2, 159, 174
Р
Pantellaria, Island of, 18
Payne, Colonel (author of "Home,
Sweet Home"), his grave at
Tunis, 247, 248
Perpetua and Felicitas, 254
Promontorium Mercurii, 18
Q
Quadrifrontal Roman arch at Tri-
poli, 31, 32 and notes
T
1
274
INDEX.
R
Rabato, 20
Rae, Mr., Edward (author of
Country of the Moors "), 6, 7,
32 note, 94, 179, 193, 195, 199,
204, 205 note, etc.
Rosetta or Raschid to succeed
Kairwân, 5
Ruspina, 146
S
Sabra or Sabrata, 170 and note
Sahel, El, 153–162
Sahosa, 96-106, 128, 129 and note
Saharan canal, 129 note
Sangue Christiania, 88
Sardinia, coasting, 267
Selmûn, palace, 21
Schools at Tripoli, 82-84; at Tunis,
246
Scripture references-
Gen. xlv. 27 (wagons), 156
Deut. xi. 10 (watering with foot),
91
Deut. xxv. 4 (unmuzzled ox), 91
Ruth ii. 3 (barley harvest), 238
2 Kings x. 28 (Jehu and Baal),
253
Matt. vi. 19 (digging through to
steal), 79
Matt. ix. 17 (leather bottles), 138
Matt. xxiv. 17 (housetop), 80
Matt. xxv. 5-6 (the Bridegroom
cometh), 39
Luke vii. 12 (funeral), 136
Luke x. 19 (the Aïssaouia), 213
John x. 14 (the Good Shepherd),
224
Acts xxvii. 17 (the Syrtis), 124
Acts xxvii. 41 (St. Paul's Bay,
Malta), 22
Seven Capes, promontony of the
(Ras Sebbah Rous), 16
Sfax, Sfakkus, or Asfackus, 133-
143
Shaôushs at Sfax, 141
Shotts or Sebkas (freshwater lake),
129, 157
To be made use of for inland sea),
130 note
The Sebka Kelibia, 157
The Sebka Sidi el Hani, 157
Shreefs, or sherîfs, at Sfax, 139
Spartel, Cape, 14
Sidi el Hani, 158, 159
St. Paul's Bay, and scene of his
shipwreck, 21, 22
Snails in the Desert, 162
Souk el Djâma, at Tripoli, 69
Souk Ahras (Thagaste), 261
Susa, or Sousse, 147-152,
Svinge, 107
Syrtis, Greater and Lesser, 124
Tah Hona, 137
T
Tarabolos Gharb, 28, 123.
Tangiers, 14
Tatar Dey, 244
•
Temple, Sir G. H., at Kairwân, 6
Tinga, Lake, 256
Tinne, history of Miss, 58-63
Tourc, a pariah, 76
Tripoli, 28-123
Bird's-eye view from Minaret, 45,
46
Mosques, 41-46; 85, 86
Walls and gates, 89-94
Tunisia, 127-258
Tunis, 245-248
Turki, 239
Turkish troops at Tripoli, 66, 67
U
Ubba (Hippo Regius) 261-265
V
Valetta, 22-26
Shikli, castle of, 249
INDEX.
275
हैं
W
Waregrans, Dr. Tristram and the,
225-229
Ꮓ
Zaghowân mountains, 149, 174, 237,
240, 252
Záouias (head-quarters of Moslem
confraternities), at Kairwân,
202-4
Záouia of
Abd-el-Kadr el Ghelani, 202
Muhammed ben Aïssa, 204, 215
The Tidjania, 203
Zembra and Zembrotta, 17, 240,
252
Zemzem and Kafayal, 208
Zhara Ain, 267
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