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Editor: Edward Vernon Sparhawk

THE SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER:

DEVOTED TO EVERY DEPARTMENT OF LITERATURE AND THE FINE ARTS.

RICHMOND: T. W. WHITE, PUBLISHER AND PROPRIETOR. 1834-5.

SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER.

From Tunis the American squadron proceeded to Algiers, where Mr. Lear landed, and was received with great respect by the government. At this time it would doubtless have been easy to have relieved the United States from the annual tribute of naval stores and munitions to the value of twenty-one thousand dollars, which they were bound to pay to that Regency by the treaty of 1795; but the Algerines had not committed any notable infraction of the terms of that treaty, and there was no cause of quarrel. In 1807 the government of the United States, in anticipation of an immediate war with Great Britain, recalled its naval forces from the Mediterranean, which sea was not again visited by an American armed vessel until 1815. The peace with Tripoli and Tunis has, however, continued without any absolute interruption to this time; with Algiers it was broken in 1812, when the Dey, emboldened by the absence of the American ships of war, and instigated, as we shall show, by the British government, thought proper to commence hostilities against the United States, for which a signal retribution was exacted in 1815.

The occurrences of the war between Tunis and Algiers would be devoid of interest, however faithfully related. Algiers had long maintained a degree of arrogant influence over Tunis, which was very galling to the sovereigns of the latter country. This was effected partly by superiority in military and naval forces, partly by the aid of the Ottoman Porte, which very naturally sided with Algiers against a state scarcely acknowledging its dependance on the Sultan, but principally by bribes to the high officers of the Tunisian government. To free his kingdom from this nightmare had been the incessant endeavor of Hamouda, and was the object of the war; its results were favorable to the Tunisians, both at sea and on land; peace was made in September, 1808, and the influence of Algiers appears never since to have been felt in the councils of Tunis.

From 1807 to 1815, the Mediterranean was navigated by few vessels except those of Great Britain, which were forbidden fruit to the Barbary cruisers; almost their only prey being the miserable inhabitants of Sicily, Sardinia, and even of the Greek Islands, although the latter were subject to the Sultan. One circumstance here shows that the government of Great Britain still cherished the system of encouraging piracy in the Mediterranean, as a means of excluding other nations from its commerce. Sicily remained during the whole of the period above mentioned, absolutely in possession of the British, the authority of the king being nearly nominal. Yet, although its vessels were daily attacked, and its inhabitants carried off from the coasts to slavery in Africa, a truce negotiated with Algiers in 1810, and an occasional remonstrance to the other two powers, which was never attended to, were the only measures adopted to remedy the evil, by those who styled themselves the protectors of the island. To the honor of the Americans, it can be said with truth, that in their Consuls the unhappy captives found friends, and that through the active intercession of these agents, many of them were restored to their homes.

The Pasha of Tripoli, as soon as he was relieved from the presence of the American forces, began with great industry to restore tranquillity in his dominions, and to repair his finances which had been exhausted by the war. As he was almost shut out from the sea, he resolved to establish and extend his authority on land. The fixed population of this regency is small, and almost entirely confined to the few fertile spots on the coast; the interior being principally desert or mountainous, is inhabited by Arabs, who wander with their flocks from pasture to pasture, or are engaged in the transportation of merchandize, or live by plundering their more industrious neighbors. The allegiance of these wanderers is always doubtful; the revenue derived from taxing them is small, and is never obtained without considerable difficulty. Whenever the Pasha is known to be in trouble at home, they become refractory, refuse to pay their tribute, and attack the caravans or towns on the coast; seldom indeed does a year pass in which the sovereign of Tripoli is not engaged in war with some of their tribes. Of these tribes, one called the Waled Suleiman had long been formidable for its numbers and its rebellious disposition; under a daring and sagacious chief the Sheik Safanissa, it had set at defiance the power of the Pasha, and had frequently pushed its inroads to the gates of the capital. Safanissa at length died; although his descendants were brave and trained to war, and his tribe continued to be powerful and influential, yet the magic of his presence was wanting, to maintain that supremacy which it had so long boasted. Yusuf saw this, and determined if possible to exterminate these insolent foes. He began by gaining over to his side another powerful tribe called the Waled Magarra, the hereditary rivals and enemies of the Suleimans; and when he had sufficiently secured their fidelity, he struck a blow which proved perfectly successful, and by which he gained another object long considered important by the sovereigns of Tripoli.

In the Desert south of this regency, is a large tract of habitable country called Fezzan. The greater part of its surface is indeed a sterile waste of sand, but there are many small spots containing clay enough to render them capable of producing dates and some other articles for the support of men and beasts. The labor of cultivation is however very great, as it seldom or never rains, and there being neither springs nor rivers, the water necessary for moistening the earth can only be procured from wells. Almost the only articles of export are dates and salt, which latter is procured in great quantities from the borders of stagnant pools, and carried to the coast of the Mediterranean, and to the negro countries south of the desert. It is inhabited principally by a black race, differing in feature however from the negroes; there are also many Arabs and some Moors, making in all perhaps seventy thousand of the poorest and most miserable of the human species. The sovereignty had long been hereditary in a family originally from Morocco, which acknowledged its dependance on Tripoli; but the Sultan of Fezzan, like the Arabs, seldom paid his tribute when he could avoid it; and the expense of collecting, had indeed of late years, amounted to more than the sum obtained. Such a territory and such inhabitants would scarcely seem to offer any inducements to conquest; but the position of Fezzan renders it important to Tripoli, as through it passes the principal route from the coast to the interior of the continent; and Yusuf was well assured that the Sultan obtained a large revenue by exactions from his subjects, and from the numerous caravans which traversed his dominions. He was therefore anxious to have his share, and was the more enraged at the insolence of this Prince in withholding it, as he was supported and encouraged in so doing by an alliance with the Waled Suleiman. At length in 1811, Yusuf seized a moment when the Suleimans were absent on a foray in the Egyptian territory, and sent an army of Tripolines and Magarra Arabs to Fezzan, under one of his most attached and experienced generals, named Mahomet el Mukni, who was well acquainted with the country, from having visited it several times to receive the tribute. These troops rapidly passed the Gharian mountains, which separate Tripoli from Fezzan, and appeared unexpectedly before Morzouk, the capital of the latter kingdom; this town, built of mud, and defended only by a wall and castle of the same material, was easily taken, the Sultan and his family, with many of the principal inhabitants, were put to death, the rest submitted to the invaders, and the whole country was soon in their possession. The neighboring Arabs overawed by this success, flocked to Mukni's standard, and having received a reinforcement of Tripoline troops, he marched to intercept the Waled Suleimans on their return from Egypt; they were met, defeated, and almost exterminated. Abdi Zaleel, one of the grandsons of Safanissa, was made prisoner, and retained for some time by the Pasha as a hostage for the fidelity of the few whose lives were spared. As a reward for the generalship displayed by Mukni, Yusuf appointed him Governor of Fezzan, with the title of Sultan while in that territory; he was required however, to transmit a large amount of tribute, and also to make an annual inroad into the negro countries lying south of the Desert, for the purpose of bringing away slaves, who were afterwards sent to Tripoli, and thence to the markets of Smyrna and Constantinople.

Notwithstanding these proofs of Yusuf's perfidy and ferocity, he became popular with Europeans; and those who were introduced to him, generally came away favorably impressed with regard to his character, and were inclined to attribute his excesses more to his situation than to his disposition. He spoke Italian fluently, and seemed to be well acquainted with what was going on in the world: his court was splendid; his apartments furnished with elegance and taste; he drank the best champaigne which France produced, and his manners are said to have been such as to entitle him to be considered a gentleman any where. The celebrated Portuguese, Badia Castilho, whose travels and adventures under the name of Ali Bey, are so well known, seems to have been charmed by the frankness and amenity of the Pasha of Tripoli. Captain Beechy, who was sent by the British Admiralty in 1822, to survey the shores of the great Syrtis, speaks with gratitude of the readiness with which facilities were afforded him for the prosecution of the work. Lyon, Denham and Clapperton, although they all experienced many vexations in their journey through the Tripoline dominions, yet seemed to ascribe them rather to the malignity and knavery of the officers of the government, than to any ill intentions on the part of the chief. To those who were not his subjects, the "good old-gentlemanly vice" of avarice seems to have been his principal failing. His own habits were expensive, and his sons, by their prodigality, kept his coffers always empty.

To the American officers and Consuls, he has been most scrupulously attentive, and has several times shewn his anxiety to prevent any difficulties from arising with the government of the United States. On all public occasions, there has been a struggle for precedence between the British and French Consuls; those of other European nations not venturing to advance any claims for themselves. The United States have been fortunately represented in Tripoli by determined men, who, while they ridiculed the etiquette in the abstract, determined to admit no inferiority in a country where it was considered as essentially important; they have therefore uniformly maintained their rights, the Pasha shewing a disposition to aid them as far as he could.

A serious affair, however, occurred in September, 1818, which was very near producing a rupture between Tripoli and the United States. Mr. R. B. Jones, the American Consul, while on a shooting excursion in the vicinity of the city, was attacked by two negroes, and beaten. The negroes were discovered to be the slaves of Morat Rais the Admiral, and there was reason to believe that they had been set on by the Scotch renegade, who always remained the bitter enemy of the United States. Investigations were made, by the results of which this suspicion was confirmed, and Morat finding himself in danger, sought an asylum in the British Consulate. Mr. Jones demanded the public punishment of the slaves, and the banishment of the Admiral from the Regency, during the pleasure of the President of the United States. Yusuf made every endeavor to evade the latter, offering instead to bastinado the slaves as long as Mr. Jones might please, or to strike off their heads if that were required. He urged that the British Consul was entitled to protect all fugitives, by the immemorial custom of the place, and that to drag him from his asylum would be to involve Tripoli in a war with Great Britain. The British Consul, on his part, insisted that Morat was a subject of Great Britain, and as such, liable only to be tried by him. Mr. Jones refused to listen to any of these representations, and was preparing to leave the place with his family, when Yusuf yielded. The slaves were publicly bastinadoed, and their master banished from Tripoli for life. Three years after, however, Mr. Jones was induced by the representations of the Pasha, to request that the President would permit him to return, which was in consequence granted.

Many changes had in the mean time taken place in Tunis. In the month of September, 1813, Hamouda Bey, while taking a cup of coffee, after a long day's fast in the Ramadan, fell down and expired. It has been already stated, that he was not the rightful heir to the throne, according to the European laws of succession, for Mahmoud and Ismael, the sons of Mahmed an elder brother of his father, were still alive, retained as state prisoners in the palace. On the death of Hamouda, his brother Othman assumed the crown, and held it for nearly two years; but he had a powerful enemy in the Sapatapa Sidi Yusuf, who was anxious to govern himself, and considered that the aged Mahmoud would be a more convenient representative of royalty. The troops were accordingly corrupted, and on the 19th of January, 1815, Othman was murdered by the hand of Mahmoud himself, who, having also despatched Othman's two sons, assumed the title and power of Bey, without opposition. The Sapatapa, the contriver of this last revolution, soon received the just reward of his villainy: he was anxious to enjoy the title, as well as the power of a sovereign of Tunis, and prepared to dispose of Mahmoud and his family. His plans were, however, revealed, and on the night on which they were to have been executed, he was himself murdered as he was retiring to his apartment in the palace of Bardo, after having spent the evening in business with the Bey, and in playing chess with his eldest son Hassan. His immense property was confiscated, and his body was dragged by the infuriated populace through the streets, with every mark of indignity. Mahmoud held the throne without any serious difficulty until his death, in 1824. His brother Ismael had no children, and was not a person likely to give him any apprehension. He is represented as having been a merry inoffensive old gentleman, fond of punning, a great lover and judge of wine which he called vinegar, out of respect for the Koran, and an inveterate newspaper politician. It is difficult to imagine an African Prince of this character. On the death of Mahmoud, his eldest son, Hassan, succeeded, who is the present Bey.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

TO MARGUERITE.

Where is my friend? I languish here-- Where is my own sweet friend? With all those looks of love so dear, Where grace and beauty blend!

Our sweetest joys, like flowers may rise, And all their fragrance lend, Yet my sick heart within me dies-- Where is my own sweet friend?

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

TO ANN.

I will not cross thy path again While Earth shall stand or Ocean roll, For thou hast rent the bond in twain That fetter'd long my struggling soul.

For me the world no more can bring A smile to love, a frown to fear; The bird that soars on wildest wing, Hath stronger ties to chain him here.

To-morrow's sun shall sink to me Beneath lone ocean's caverns deep-- To-morrow's sun shall glide from thee, Behind yon forest's waving sweep.

And thou shalt mark his farewell beams O'er lov'd familiar objects play; But will they rouse the fairy dreams That once endear'd the close of day?

I shall not heed, in climes afar, Thy name--'twill be a sound unheard, And time and distance doubly mar The fitful dream that thou hast stirr'd.

I shall not long remember thee, Mid' prouder schemes and objects strange; Thy scorn hath set the captive free, And boundless now shall be his range.

And while a sunder'd path shall own My bosom now, as cold as thine, To me thy doom shall rest unknown, As thou shalt nothing know of mine.

If o'er thee pale disease should creep And mark thee for an early grave,-- No mourning voice shall cross the deep, No tear shall swell the eastern wave.

If long and blest thy life should be, And fall like leaves when frost is come,-- Unconscious all, the sullen sea Will bear no echo from thy tomb.

Unknown must be thy smiles or tears: Yet sometimes, at the farewell hour, The book of fate unclasp'd appears, And half imparts a prophet's power.

Try to forget! The time may be When Fancy shall withhold her sway, And blissful dreams no more for thee Shall sport in sunset's golden ray.

Try to forget! Thy calm of pride May sink to waveless, waste despair, Like her whose homeward glance descried Heaven's shower of flame descending there.

Try to forget! Thy peace of mind May change to passion's blasting storm; When spirits of the past unbind The shroud from Pleasure's faded form.

Pray to forget! When chill disdain Shall haply tell that love is fled, And thou shalt gaze, but gaze in vain, On eyes where Passion's light is dead;

Then turn thee not to former days-- Remember not this hour of pride That banish'd one, who but to raise, To shield, to bless thee, would have died.

The shaft that flies from Sorrow's bow When Fate would sternest wrath employ, Is far less steel'd with present woe Than poison'd with remember'd joy.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

MY NATIVE LAND.

BY LUCY T. JOHNSON.

I return'd to my own native land, And I sought for the spot I had loved, Where the rose and the lily had bloom'd 'neath my hand, And my footsteps in childhood had roved.

I saw--but I wept at the change Long years had thrown over the scene;-- It was there--but the desert's wild, desolate range Was mark'd "where the garden had been."

It was gone--but the chimney was there, The sad relic of long vanish'd years; And the thorn and the brier now embraced, or were near, Where my kindred had buried their cares.

I look'd for the valley and stream, Where the bower and grove intertwined; Where the wild hunter boy oft indulged in his dream Of delights he was never to find.

I look'd for the mountain and hill, Where the hunter delighted to stray, And where at the twilight, the lone whippoorwill Had pour'd forth his anchorite lay.

They were there--but the hunter was gone, And the sound of his bugle was hush'd; And the torrent was there--but the light-footed fawn Drank not at its fount as it rush'd.

I look'd for the friends I lov'd best; The friends of my earliest choice; They had gone to that bourne where the dead are at rest, Or cold was each care-stricken voice.

Adieu to thee--"land of the leal," Fair land of the blue-vaulted sky; Tho' I go--yet the heart thus inspired to feel, Shall remember thee oft with a sigh.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

TO MY CHILD.

BY PERTINAX PLACID.

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