Arabia Felix

by Thorkild Hansen

  In Mocha was the young man Ismael Salech, son of a well-to-do merchant, familiar with European conditions and able to say a few words in broken Dutch. Nearly six months earlier he had called on them during their stay in Djidda, and by his courteous and ingratiating personality had so won their sympathy that they had offered to let him travel with them free on the coffee ship from Muscat. When they decided to go ashore at Loheia and Ismael Salech suggested that, to repay their kindness, he might look after a number of their chests, including Forsskål’s collection of botanical specimens, and take them on to the customs house in Mocha, they had unsuspectingly accepted his offer and handed over their irreplaceable collections, believing that they had found an influential friend who could be of great help to them when they eventually reached his native town.

  When, on the evening of 23rd April, Forsskål and Niebuhr drew up at the town gates, they learnt that three English merchants had just arrived with a number of ships from Bombay. They pondered a moment whether to call on the Europeans and ask them for help in getting installed in the town, but then abandoned this idea, fearing that in their dusty Oriental clothes they would be taken for vagabonds and not for “decent Europeans,” as Niebuhr writes. They obtained the address of the Englishmen. They discovered that these three gentlemen were very wealthy and hospitable. But they did not go to them. They went direct to the house of Ismael Salech.

  The young man was overjoyed to see them again. Somewhat to their embarrassment, they learnt that they were his best friends. He immediately found them a house, invited them home afterwards and entertained them with punch. He himself did not drink, for he was a devout Muslim, but as he did not want them to drink alone, he had sent for a renegade, an Indian Catholic, who showed himself to be a devout drunkard. Forsskål and Niebuhr began to feel a little uncertain in this company, and they declined with thanks the offer of more of “this fiery drink.” Ismael’s tone grew confidential; he advised them to remove their beards and to don European clothes; above all, they must not let it be seen that they understood Arabic, for this would only rouse the suspicions of the population. When they expressed their desire to continue later to Sana, he looked horrified. It was out of the question for them to travel there alone; its inhabitants were rough and uncivilised, and it would be much wiser to remain in Mocha, where they would have the advantage of his protection. They told him of the extensive journeys they had already undertaken in Tehama, and of how well they had been received on all sides. Ismael was greatly surprised; he would never have expected it. But as for the people of Mocha, he said coldly, he thought he could claim to know them better than they did; they had a violent hatred of Europeans. Fortunately, however, his father happened to be a very influential man in the town and would be able to be of great service to them.

  Forsskål and Niebuhr were by nature trustful; they did not doubt that Ismael Salech was right; and they asked him whether he and his influential father would accompany them next day to the customs house, where he had deposited their chests brought from Loheia. With this agreed, they departed, leaving the house in the company of the Indian renegade. He had meanwhile become very voluble. As they were walking down the street, he came out with some dark hints about Ismael Salech, his great love of foreigners, and his influential father. Forsskål and Niebuhr put two and two together. When they were finished with the renegade, they were no longer in doubt. They had been tricked.

  At nine o’clock the following morning the remainder of the expedition arrived with their baggage and equipment; this was taken straight to the customs house, where the dola of the town himself was present. There was no trace of Ismael Salech or his influential father. Forsskål turned to the dola and asked him first to clear the things that had been brought overland from Beit el-Fakih; these included their kitchen equipment and their beds; von Haven, who had been on the move all night, was racked with fever and must have rest. The customs officials refused his request; first they wanted to examine the chests that had been brought by ship from Loheia. In one of these were some small bottles containing fish which Forsskål had collected from the Red Sea. Forsskål pleaded urgently with them to let the bottles through unopened, because they were filled with concentrated alcohol and the fish would smell most unpleasantly if taken out. The customs official would not listen, opened the bottles, took out the fish, stirred about in the liquid to see if anything else was hidden there, and ended by pouring it all on the ground. The result was that the building was filled with the stink of alcohol and rotten fish.

  Carsten Niebuhr writes: “One can easily imagine the reaction this caused among the Arabs, whose religion forbids them all alcohol; and how humiliated we were made to feel at the dola thus seeing his customs house sullied by our things.” The stench of the rotten fish had not made von Haven feel any better. Once again they asked if their beds could be checked and handed over to them, and again the customs official insisted on opening the chests from Loheia. This time they came across some molluscs that had not quite dried out before they had been packed; these also smelt rotten. An angry murmur arose among the bystanders; the customs officials became angry; all the packages containing molluscs, which Forsskål had packed with the greatest care, were emptied out on to the floor and raked about with the points of crow-bars. Forsskål cried out that they were destroying everything, but his protests were in vain. The Arabs answered that anybody who collected such things could not be in full possession of his senses, and that he must have sent the things there to make fools of the dola and his customs officials. A discussion arose among the spectators, some claiming on the contrary that these were extremely precious things but that the Europeans had bewitched their eyes. The dola himself, who seemed a mild-mannered sort of man, had hitherto till now not attached much importance to what was being said; but now some tall flasks were brought out in which Forsskål had put a number of small snakes in alcohol. At once the discussion died away in amazement. Then one of the officials broke the silence; he had found the explanation. It was clear that the Europeans had come to the Yemen to poison the Mohammedans with snake poison; this was the reason why one of them was pretending to be a doctor, for he would thus have a better opportunity of carrying out this evil plan. When the dola heard that his subjects’ lives were in danger, he lost all patience and declared excitedly that, by Allah, these foreigners would not be permitted to remain another night in his town. There was a great uproar among the spectators; the Europeans were thrown out of the customs house and the door was fastened behind them, without their being allowed to take even the most essential things with them, without their kitchen equipment and without their beds.

  At that moment their servant Berggren came rushing up. The Arabs had forced their way into the house that Ismael Salech had procured for them; their saddle-bags with the books and instruments they had brought with them from Beit el-Fakih had been thrown out of the window and the house had been shut up. Forsskål and Kramer hurried off to save what could be saved. It took them only a moment to discover who was behind this move. This visitation had been made on the orders of Ismael Salech.

  Forsskål rushed to his house, beside himself with rage. But all inquiries were useless; the courteous gentleman might as well have sunk into the ground, for nobody had any idea where he could be found. The Europeans now gathered together and took themselves round town, seeking a new house. Their task seemed hopeless; everywhere they were met with abuse; the whole town had heard what had happened at the customs house, and nobody would let rooms to them for fear of being poisoned. Throughout that day the little group went from house to house; Niebuhr and von Haven were racked with malaria; people turned in the street shouting threats after them; a crowd of jeering boys followed on their heels. Not until almost evening did they meet a kadi, a judge, who was willing to stand guarantor for them and who persuaded an Arab to let them a house. The owner had seen interesting possibilities in the situation. He demanded double rent. Four months to be paid in advance, he said, squinting up at Niebuhr.
Niebuhr put the money on the table.

  Meanwhile news of their misfortune had reached the English merchants from Bombay, who now sent a message inviting them to dinner. Niebuhr at last saw a gleam of light: “This invitation was the most agreeable we have ever received. Not only did we enjoy a splendid meal with the Englishmen, the like of which we had not seen since our departure from Cairo, but we found also some true and steadfast friends.”

  The next day it was still impossible to get any of their belongings released from the customs house. Now Ismael Salech re-appeared and put his cards on the table. The only way was to pacify the dola with a gift. This could not be less than fifty ducats—nearly 200 grammes of silver. As the dola did not receive visits from Christians, however, Ismael Salech would himself do them the favour of delivering the money. The members of the expedition could do nothing but fall in with the Arab, but they managed to send him off with the information that they themselves wished to present their gift to the dola. They had realised all along that this business would ultimately end as a question of money, but they had never for a moment imagined that they would have to think of such enormous sums. When they failed again the following day to get anything out of the customs house, it was decided that Niebuhr should seek admittance to the dola’s palace and try to force the fifty ducats on him. With a heavy heart he set off with this large sum of money and could hardly bring himself to enter the palace. Then at the gate he learnt that the dola had just been accidentally shot in the foot. Niebuhr sighed with relief; now he had some excuse for avoiding the drain on the financial resources of the expedition: “I turned about immediately in the hope that the dola would now let our doctor call and that we could thereby save ourselves from having to give a present.”

  But Niebuhr’s optimism was unfounded. True, the suggestion was made that the dola might send for the Danish doctor, but it was not accepted, because the dola feared that the Europeans would take revenge by administering poisoned medicine. On 27th April they got permission to collect their beds from the customs house; the mattresses had been badly slashed and were useless. On 28th April they got nothing; on 29th April they were allowed to take a few insignificant trifles. There was nothing else for it. Even Niebuhr now saw the necessity of throwing away the fifty ducats, as he put it. He could not bring himself to return in person to the dola’s palace; he simply could not bring himself to beg others to accept a fortune. Forsskål had to take over.

  For the aloof Swede it was the matter of a moment to hand their gift to the dola as though it were a stinging humiliation. Forsskål, as usual, had right on his side; this was for him a matter of principle, and he knew from experience how this advantage could be used to quash others. He appeared a little distrait; he wearily handed over the enormous sum as though it were some boring formality that had to be gone through; a little confused, the dola accepted the money and mumbled some excuses in the hope that Forsskål would protest. Forsskål gave him no assistance, and was content to regard him with cold amazement. Now the Arab became extremely courteous, asked after the party, expressed his surprise that they had not visited him earlier, as Forsskål was obviously able to express himself in excellent Arabic. Forsskål frigidly let these compliments fall flat; he changed the subject and put a few rapid and precise questions. Even though the Arab was not above accepting bribes, he saw no reason why their conversation need descend to mutual flattery. The dola realised that this was an encounter between two men of utterly different make-up; his dignity shrank; gradually he was made to feel that he would rather give up fifty ducats than have to accept the gift that lay on his table. But now Forsskål rose and took his leave; he now had answers to his questions; the dola would be so good as to accept his thanks, for he now knew all he wished to know.

  Then the wind changed in Mocha. The next morning the expedition received two sheep and a sack of rice from the dola. At the customs house their chests were handed over unopened; Doctor Kramer was to look at the dola’s bad foot; and when Forsskål was abused in the street by some poor Arab who was not abreast of developments, the unfortunate man was at once thrown into prison, and Forsskål had to arrange for him to be pardoned to prevent Ismael Salech from exploiting the situation. While all the other members of the expedition remained more or less inactive, Forsskål was busier than he had ever been before. Apparently unaffected by the unbearable heat, he was on the go from morning till evening, negotiating, arranging, drawing up agreements; in less than a couple of weeks he was complete master of the situation, and simultaneously he had found time to do some of his more usual work. Once again his diary is filled with lists of units of measurement, weight, and coinage; he studied the town’s trade in gold and ivory with Abyssinia, noted the prices of myrrh, frankincense and mother-of-pearl, discovered that the Arabs were interested in trading for iron, steel and gun-barrels, “which they prefer to be not round but thick and pentagonal.”

  Forsskål now did the work of all five men. On the other hand, during these anxious days matters had rapidly deteriorated with Niebuhr and von Haven. The former could not recall having been so wretched before. On 18th May he scraped together a letter in French to Bernstorff, in which for the first time he had to beg the Danish Minister to excuse him for being unable, because of his illness, to draw up and send in his accounts. Now he called his “chill” dysentery. With von Haven, it was the other way round. Von Haven wrote no letters from Mocha. On many occasions the Danish professor had excused his neglect of duty on the grounds of sickness and disability; but when the fever was no longer a pretext but a genuine affliction, when at last he stood face to face with his grim fate, he received the verdict in silence. The last letter from his hand is the one he wrote from Loheia, which he concluded by expressing the hope that he would be able to stay two years in Arabia Felix. Von Haven was to remain much longer than two years in Arabia Felix. He lies there still. But he wrote no letters from Mocha. Carsten Niebuhr describes his last days:

  “Herr von Haven’s condition, which already in Beit el-Fakih had given some cause for concern, now grew worse from day to day. He felt somewhat better in the evenings, especially when he had taken a short ride in the cool air, but the intense heat of the daylight hours he found quite unbearable. On the night of the 22nd to 23rd May he slept on the roof terrace under the open sky, and the cold air up there did him good. The following night the wind was so strong that he did not dare remain outside, for he had not grown accustomed to sleeping with his face covered, like the Arabs. For the night of 24th to 25th he once more ventured on to the terrace. The following morning, presumably as the result of a severe chill, he was so ill that he had to be carried down to his bed by two servants. In the course of the day he grew weaker and weaker, and at eight o’clock his pulse seemed almost to have stopped; but when we opened one of his veins, he seemed to revive a little. One hour later he wrote his will. We had not yet finally lost hope of seeing him well again, when about eight in the evening he began to talk wildly and confusedly about all manner of things, sometimes in Arabic, sometimes in French, Italian, German and Danish. Thereupon he fell into a deep sleep, or more correctly a faint, and died about ten o’clock.”

  Niebuhr’s map of Mocha. The figure 7 indicates the position of the graveyard where von Haven was buried

  In the Yemen it was not the custom to bury the dead in coffins; but Niebuhr tells how the members of the expedition nevertheless got a carpenter to make a chest “for our friend’s body.” The English merchants sent them six Catholic sailors from India, who, in the late afternoon of 26th May, carried the dead man to his grave in the European churchyard some little way outside the town. The three Englishmen accompanied the coffin along with Forsskål, Baurenfeind, Kramer and the sick Niebuhr. The burial took place according to Christian custom.

  Carsten Niebuhr also added a few obituary words in his diary, and as they were meant for publication, he expressed himself very diplomatically. He says: “Herr von Haven had particularly dedicated himself to the study of Oriental lite
rature. By his death, scholarship lost that member of our party from whom one could justifiably have expected, on our return, the most important discoveries within the field of Oriental scholarship.”

  To his son many years later Niebuhr was more frank: “Von Haven was incompetent in the field of linguistics. Apart from that, he had elected to do a job for which nobody was less suited. His one thought during the expedition was to get home; his favourite topic of conversation was the comfortable future he had marked out for himself. He found no excitement in research and exploration to compensate for the many difficulties and deprivations connected with the journey, and none of us believed we were giving up as much as he did. For him, a well-laid table and good wine were the supreme delights of life; and in Arabia, where the members of the expedition found only very simple food and bad drinking-water, his despondency turned to despair, which often amused but sometimes also enraged his colleagues. He was naturally lazy, and in the hot climate of this region he found an adequate pretext for doing nothing. Moreover, he was very haughty and conceited in his conduct; he regarded himself as being the most distinguished of us all and the obvious leader of the expedition, and it annoyed him greatly that he had not been put in charge of the finances. Nor was anything of the slightest worth found among his papers after his death.”[1]