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 THE ROUTLEDGE HANDBOOK OF NEOPLATONISM

The Routledge Handbook of Neoplatonism is an authoritative and comprehensive

survey of the most important issues and developments in one of the fastest
growing areas of research in ancient philosophy. An international team of
scholars situates and re-evaluates Neoplatonism within the history of ancient
philosophy and thought, and explores its influence on philosophical and religious
schools worldwide. The Routledge Handbook of Neoplatonism is a major
reference source for all students and scholars in Neoplatonism and ancient
philosophy, as well as researchers in the philosophy of science, ethics, aesthetics
and religion.

Pauliina Remes is University Lecturer in Philosophy at Uppsala University

(Sweden). She is the author of Plotinus on Self: The Philosophy of the “We” (2007)
and Neoplatonism (2008), and the editor of Ancient Philosophy of the Self (2008,
with J. Sihvola) and Consciousness: From Perception to Reflection in the History of
Philosophy (2007, with S. Heinämaa and V. Lähteenmäki).

Svetla Slaveva-Griffin is Associate Professor of Classics and a core faculty in the

History and Philosophy of Science Program at the Florida State University. She
has published on a wide range of topics in ancient philosophy, including Plotinus
on Number (2009).
 ROUTLEDGE HANDBOOKS IN PHILOSOPHY
Routledge Handbooks in Philosophy are state-of-the-art surveys of emerging,
newly refreshed, and important fields in philosophy, providing accessible yet
thorough assessments of key problems, themes, thinkers, and recent
developments in research.
All chapters for each volume are specially commissioned, and written by
leading scholars in the field. Carefully edited and organized, Routledge
Handbooks in Philosophy provide indispensable reference tools for students and
researchers seeking a comprehensive overview of new and exciting topics in
philosophy. They are also valuable teaching resources as accompaniments to
textbooks, anthologies, and research-orientated publications.
Available:
The Routledge Handbook of Embodied Cognition
Edited by Lawrence Shapiro
The Routledge Handbook of Neoplatonism
Edited by Pauliina Remes and Svetla Slaveva-Griffin
Forthcoming:
The Routledge Handbook of Global Ethics
Edited by Darrel Moellendorf and Heather Widdows
The Routledge Handbook of Contemporary Philosophy of Religion
Edited by Graham Oppy
The Routledge Handbook of the Stoic Tradition
Edited by John Sellars
The Routledge Handbook of German Idealism
Edited by Brian O’Connor, Michael Rosen, Hans Joerg Sandkühler, and David
Wood
The Routledge Handbook of Philosophy of Well-Being
Edited by Guy Fletcher
The Routledge Handbook of Philosophy of Imagination
Edited by Amy Kind
 The Routledge Handbook of Philosophy of Colour
Edited by Derek Brown and Fiona Macpherson
The Routledge Handbook of the Philosophy of Biodiversity
Edited by Justin Garson, Anya Plutynski, and Sahotra Sarkar
The Routledge Handbook of Philosophy of the Social Mind
Edited by Julian Kiverstein
The Routledge Handbook of Collective Intentionality
Edited by Marija Jankovic and Kirk Ludwig
The Routledge Handbook of Brentano and the Brentano School
Edited by Uriah Kriegel
The Routledge Handbook of Epistemic Contextualism
Edited by Jonathan Jenkins Ichikawa
The Routledge Handbook of Philosophy and Evolution
Edited by Richard Joyce
The Routledge Handbook of Modality
Edited by Otávio Bueno and Scott Shalkowski
THE ROUTLEDGE HANDBOOK OF
NEOPLATONISM

Edited by
Pauliina Remes and Svetla Slaveva-Griffin
First published 2014
by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN

and by Routledge
711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business

© 2014 Pauliina Remes and Svetla Slaveva-Griffin, selection and editorial matter; individual chapters, the
contributors
The right of Pauliina Remes and Svetla Slaveva-Griffin to be identified as the authors of the editorial matter,
and of the individual authors for their contributions, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78
of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any
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Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used
only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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ISBN: 978-1-844-65626-4 (hbk)
ISBN: 978-1-315-74418-6 (ebk)

Typeset in Minion Pro and Frutiger by Kate Williams, Swansea.

 Contents

Acknowledgements
Abbreviations
1. Introduction: Neoplatonism today
Pauliina Remes and Svetla Slaveva-Griffin

PART I: (RE)SOURCES, INSTRUCTION AND INTERACTION

Introduction
2. Platonist curricula and their influence
Harold Tarrant
3. The Alexandrian classrooms excavated and sixth-century philosophy
teaching
Richard Sorabji
4. Middle Platonism and its relation to Stoicism and the Peripatetic tradition
Gretchen Reydams-Schils and Franco Ferrari
5. Plotinus and the Gnostics: opposed heirs of Plato
John D. Turner
6. Plotinus and the Orient: aoristos dyas
Vishwa Adluri

PART II: METHODS AND STYLES OF EXEGESIS

Introduction
7. Aristotelian commentary tradition
Han Baltussen
8. The non-commentary tradition
Andrew Smith
9. Plotinus’ style and argument
Luc Brisson
10. Proclus’ geometrical method
Marije Martijn

PART III: METAPHYSICS AND METAPHYSICAL PERSPECTIVES

Introduction
11. Metaphysics: the origin of becoming and the resolution of ignorance
Sara Ahbel-Rappe
12. The metaphysics of the One
Jens Halfwassen
13. Number in the metaphysical landscape
Svetla Slaveva-Griffin
14. Substance
Riccardo Chiaradonna
15. Matter and evil in the Neoplatonic tradition
Jean-Marc Narbonne

PART IV: LANGUAGE, KNOWLEDGE, SOUL AND SELF

Introduction
16. The gift of Hermes: the Neoplatonists on language and philosophy
Robbert M. van den Berg
17. Neoplatonic epistemology: knowledge, truth and intellection
Lloyd P. Gerson
18. Iamblichus on soul
John F. Finamore
19. From Alexander of Aphrodisias to Plotinus
 Frederic M. Schroeder
20. Metaphysics of soul and self in Plotinus
Gwenaëlle Aubry
21. Perceptual awareness in the ancient commentators
Péter Lautner

PART V: NATURE: PHYSICS, MEDICINE AND BIOLOGY

Introduction
22. Physics and metaphysics
Alessandro Linguiti
23. Neoplatonism and medicine
James Wilberding
24. Humans, other animals, plants and the question of the good: the Platonic and
Neoplatonic traditions
Kevin Corrigan

PART VI: ETHICS, POLITICAL THEORY AND AESTHETICS

Introduction
25. Plotinus on metaphysics and morality
Suzanne Stern-Gillet
26. Plotinus on founding freedom in Ennead VI.8[39]
Bernard Collette-Dučić
27. Freedom, providence and fate
Peter Adamson
28. Action, reasoning and the highest good
Pauliina Remes
29. Political theory
Dominic J. O’Meara
30. Plotinus’ aesthetics: in defence of the lifelike
 Panayiota Vassilopoulou

PART VII: LEGACY

Introduction
31. Neoplatonism and Christianity in the West
Dermot Moran
32. Neoplatonism and Christianity in the East: philosophical and theological
challenges for bishops
Dimitar Y. Dimitrov
33. Islamic and Jewish Neoplatonisms
Sarah Pessin

Contributors
Bibliography
Index of passages cited
General index
 Acknowledgements

The appearance of this volume would have been impossible without the support
of many individuals and institutions. Besides the contributors, we wish to thank
the anonymous reviewers for upholding the Handbook to the highest standards of
scholarship and giving it all in their comments; Michael Chase, Simon Fortier and
Coralie Seizilles de Mazanco for their help in translating certain articles from
French; Carl O’Brien for translating Jens Halfwassen’s chapter from German with
the assistance of Thomas Arnold and Tolga Ratzsch; Marcaline Boyd and
Amanda Richard for their editorial assistance; Steven Gerrard and the production
team at Acumen for their vision, and patience, at every stage of the project; Tony
Bruce and the production team at Routledge for their wholehearted welcome of
the book into their Handbooks series; the Department of Classics and the
Program in the History and Philosophy of Science at Florida State University; the
Department of Philosophy at Uppsala University; the Alexander von Humboldt
Foundation; Riksbankens Jubileumsfond, the Swedish Foundation for Humanities
and Social Sciences, and its “Understanding Agency” Programme; the Florida
State University Council on Research and Creativity; C. H. Beck for allowing here
the appearance of an English translation of a chapter from Halfwassen (2004);
University of Laval Press for allowing the appearance of a revised version of
Finamore (2009); and University of London Press for allowing the appearance of
an updated version of a chapter from Sorabji (2010). We are most in debt to the
forgiving understanding of our families. But none of this would have been
possible without a friendship that knows no limits and no borders, from the long
Finnish summer days of Mikkeli to the cosy coffee houses of stormy Cardiff.
Pauliina Remes and Svetla Slaveva-Griffin
 Abbreviations

This list includes only the standard abbreviations of main reference sources. For
the full names of abbreviated individual titles, see “Authors and Works” in H. G.
Liddell and R. Scott, A Greek–English Lexicon, with a revised supplement
(Oxford, 1996) xvi–xxxviii, and L. P. Gerson, The Cambridge History of
Philosophy in Late Antiquity (Cambridge, 2010) vol. 2: 966–82.

CAG H. Diels (ed.) 1882–1909. Commentaria in Aristotelem Graeca. Berlin:

Reimer.
CHLGEMP A. H. Armstrong (ed.) 1967. The Cambridge History of Later Greek and
Early Medieval Philosophy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
CHPLA L. P. Gerson (ed.) 2010. The Cambridge History of Philosophy in Late
Antiquity, 2 vols. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
CMG 1908–. Corpus Medicorum Graecorum.
CPF F. Adorno et al. (eds) 1995. Corpus dei papiri filosofici greci e latini III:
Commentari. Florence: Olschki.
DK H. Diels & W. Kranz (eds) 1951–2. Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker, 6th
edn, 3 vols. Berlin: Weidmann.
DPA R. Goulet (ed.) 1989–2012. Dictionnaire des philosophes antiques, 5 vols & 1
suppl. to date. Paris: CNRS.
ET Proclus, Elementatio theologica = Institutio theologica = Elements of
Theology.
NHC The Nag Hammadi Codices.
QAM Galen, Quod animi mores corporis temperamenta sequuntur. In I. Mueller
(ed.) 1891. Claudii Galeni Pergameni Scripta Minora, Vol. 2. Leipzig:
Teubner. Also Kühn, vol. 4, 767–822.
RE A. Pauly, G. Wissowa, W. Kroll, K. Witte, K. Mittelhaus & K. Ziegler (eds)
 1894–1978. Real-Encyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft.
Stuttgart: Metzler & Druckenmüller.
SVF H. von Arnim (ed.) 1903–5. Stoicorum Veterum Fragmenta, 4 vols. Stuttgart:
Teubner.
 1
Introduction: Neoplatonism today

Pauliina Remes and Svetla Slaveva-Griffin

In this day and age putting together a volume such as The Routledge Handbook of
Neoplatonism is a celebratory event even when the publishers’ catalogues are
laden with state-of-the-art companions, guides and histories in every field. In the
case of Neoplatonism, the appearance of such a volume is momentous as a “rite
of passage” acknowledging that the discipline of late ancient philosophy has
reached its full maturity. What, then, one may ask, is so timely and attractive in
the study of Neoplatonism today?
The fates of Neoplatonism have changed in the past two decades. It has come
out from the cupboard of intellectual oddities to become the fastest growing area
of research in ancient philosophy. This new-found interest has yielded fruitful
results for the understanding not only of Neoplatonism itself but also of the
cultural vitality of ancient philosophy in late antiquity. In the constantly
changing, fractured, world of intellectual and ideological allegiance in the period
from the third to the sixth century CE, Neoplatonism was a stabilizing factor, of a
kind, the unity and completeness of which cannot be underestimated. Developing
a system that builds the impermanent physical reality, in even more
impermanent historical times, into a self-sustained whole of cascading causal
principles made Neoplatonism an enduring philosophical force. The scholarly
attempt to grasp this system better, with its complexity and resilience, various
interpretations and unfoldings, has turned Neoplatonic studies into a success
story today.
The first steps of Neoplatonic research were naturally constrained by the
intellectual circumstances in which Neoplatonic philosophy grew in the shadow
of its two Classical predecessors – Platonism and Aristotelianism. From the point
of view of scholarship narrowly concentrated on the floruit of Greek ancient
philosophy in Athens in the late fifth and fourth centuries BCE, Neoplatonism
can be easily seen as the unwanted stepchild of this period of Classical ancient
philosophy which earnestly but inanely tries to dovetail with its illustrious
ancestry. This point of view has for some time now been challenged by an ever-
growing interest in the post-Classical period of ancient thought, with late ancient
thinkers as the most recent area of exploration. Within Neoplatonic scholarship,
the pioneering efforts sent a sustained series of intellectual waves throughout the
twentieth century which incited translations, rethought interpretations, and
charted new territories for future research.1 Thanks to the avalanching success of
these efforts today we understand better the philosophical phenomenon of
Neoplatonism: its sources, overarching simplicity, internal complexity,
methodologies, and interrelations with every corner of knowledge. Neoplatonism,
comprehensively understood, can no longer be dismissed as an in-vitro offspring
of Platonism, which attempts to work out the quirks of Middle Platonism,
sprinkled with (anti)-Peripatetic zest and a few smears of Neopythagoreanism,
Stoicism and, not to forget, religious mysticism. From an idiosyncratic and
peripheral aftermath of Plato’s philosophy, Neoplatonism grew to establish itself
as the foremost philosophical venue of late antiquity.
There are three directions of research that have contributed most to the success
of Neoplatonic studies in the twenty-first century. First, contemporary research
seeks to unravel the psychological, ethical and political consequences of
metaphysics, the heart of hearts of Neoplatonic philosophy. While research of
metaphysical themes remains the backbone of scholarly work, more and more
studies are interested in bridging the gap between ontology and other areas of
philosophizing. This is directly connected to the second feature of present
research, namely the rising attention to how the Neoplatonists understood the so-
called sensible realm. Areas such as politics and natural philosophy that were
previously considered neglected by these thinkers have become insurgent and
vibrant today. Metaphysics continues to play a key role in these studies, but the
centre of attention has shifted, from merely revealing the finesse of the
Neoplatonic ontological hierarchy for its own sake to understanding the inherent
interconnectedness of all parts of the philosophical system, including
metaphysics. The emerging picture is thus more balanced as well as more
relevant for human concerns.
Besides the more practical and this-worldly emphasis, recent research is
marked, thirdly, by the substantial advance of both historical and philosophical
interpretations. Historically, Neoplatonism is now treated as a continuation of the
Classical and Hellenistic heritage rather than an introspective curiosity from late
antiquity the main outcome of which is the conceptual firmament of Christian
ideology. The picture of the relationship of Neoplatonism with other schools of
thought, both philosophical and religious, is rapidly becoming more concrete. The
philosophical purport of this is to see, for example, Neoplatonic metaphysical
hierarchy – the proliferation of entities as well as levels – as a series of attempts
to address philosophical problems detected or left behind by earlier thinkers such
as Parmenides, Plato, Aristotle and the Stoics. In the same vein, the study of the
relationship between metaphysics and theology or metaphysics and mathematics
– to give just two pairs of examples among many – has outgrown the limitations
of scepticism to reveal a sound philosophically based communication. Thereby
the new research in metaphysics, mathematics and theology has become more
and more problem-oriented rather than strictly descriptive. As a result, the
writing of a commentary on a single work has been supplemented by the
analytical explication of a particular problem or a concept, sometimes within a
single author, at others across time and divergent views.
Before discussing, briefly, some particularities of Neoplatonism as currently
understood, a few methodological points about both the term and the object of
research it grasps are in order. As is well known today, the term “Neoplatonism”
captures something less than a unified phenomenon in the history of philosophy,
and comes with its own historical baggage. The first of these problems, the
impossibility of marking the chronological boundaries of the school, will be
discussed in the subsequent section introductions, where, particularly in the
context of Parts I and VII, we explicate our take on the boundaries – or the lack
thereof – regarding the philosophical movement known as Neoplatonism. Here
we shall limit ourselves to contending that in this volume, the concept of
“Neoplatonism” is explored, perhaps paradoxically, not primarily through
Platonic or ancient means; that is, by searching one definition or essence behind
its different permutations in various thinkers, contexts and centuries. Rather, our
approach is closer to Wittgenstein’s idea of family resemblance; that is, that a
term’s usages should be followed through “a complicated network of similarities,
overlapping and criss-crossing” (Wittgenstein 1953: 66). When asked to author a
contribution to a volume entitled Handbook of Neoplatonism, scholars know, in a
pre-theoretical manner, what is meant by this request. They are efficient users of
the term “Neoplatonism”, confident in conveying shared meanings by using it
themselves. But shared meanings are hardly entirely fixed: in the articles
submitted for this volume, for instance, the core elements of this movement and
philosophy were sometimes understood differently, and opinions diverge as to
what, exactly, counts as Neoplatonic. From the methodologies applied to the
ancient sources to the understanding of their core motivation – social, spiritual or
intellectual – the volume offers a multitude of diverse voices. Yet it cannot be
denied that the contributions do paint, in their separate ways, a picture of
something singular, albeit perhaps not paradigmatically so. It is our hope that this
wealth of approaches is the best vehicle in charting the meaning and content of
the term “Neoplatonism”, and our only regret is the number of superb scholars,
interesting approaches and research results that, for reasons of extension, did not
make their way into the volume.
When it comes to the usage of the term “Neoplatonism” itself, it is here that
the comparison with the Wittgensteinian idea of “family resemblance” is
challenged. The problem with the term is, arguably, today’s blind adoption of it
from a historical usage that we no longer recognize, much less agree with. The
term was coined in the eighteenth-century German scholarship, where its history
seems to be bound to the understanding of its relationship to Middle Platonism.
According to recent research, the division between Middle and Neo-Platonism
was cemented by Joseph Brucker (in Historia Critica Philosophiae, 1742–67), who
used the term to create a juxtaposition, where the former was seen as a genuine
form of Platonism, whereas the latter played the role of a villain, representing a
distorted or deteriorated interpretation of Plato (see Catana 2013). The following
problem now arises: if we are to follow the different usages of the term all the
way to its origins, is all resemblance and similarity thereby lost? And worse still,
have we adopted, ahistorically, a tainted term, created for a quite different
context, and unhappily for a purpose that challenges and mocks the very object
to which it refers? For these kinds of reasons, the term is not used in the by now
authoritative collection on late ancient philosophy, The Cambridge History of
Philosophy in Late Antiquity (2010). The editor, L. P. Gerson, argues for this
choice as follows (we shall provide a lengthy quote to be able to explicate in
detail our own choice to retain this very term):

Unfortunately, in the eighteenth-century the label was intended mostly as

pejorative, and that situation has not changed much even today. It was
assumed that “Neoplatonism” represented a muddying of the purest Hellenic
stream. … We refer throughout to “Platonism” or “late Platonism”, or
“Christian Platonism” when discussing Plotinus, his successors and those
 Christian thinkers who were in one way or another shaped by the dominant
tradition in ancient philosophy. In doing so, we make no presumptions
about fidelity or lack thereof to Plato’s own philosophy. It is enough, at least
initially, to recognize that there were varieties of Platonism, just as there
were varieties of Christianity in our period, and varieties of various
philosophical movements in earlier centuries.
(2010: vol. 1, 1–10, at 3)

Gerson’s methodological points are forceful and have already turned out to be
influential. When this Handbook and its title were conceived, we could not
foresee that the field would advance so rapidly that by the time of publication we
would be put in a position to defend not only the original title of the volume but
the name of the field itself. And while we find this kind of development most
exciting and reassuring in the longevity of our field, why are we, as editors, not
simply adopting Gerson’s well-thought and -argued stance, and choose to persist
in our use of the term? The reasons can be divided into (i) linguistic, (ii)
pragmatic, and (iii) interpretative. Let us comment on each in turn. (i) Is an
originally pejorative term predetermined to retain its pejorative associations
through history? Evidently not. A number of Finnish village names originate
from once foul terms, often connected to female anatomy. The original
connotation being lost, they are used with pride by the inhabitants of these
villages. In our view, Neoplatonism has for some time undergone a similar
ameliorative process. Few know that the prefix “Neo-” of the term once got its
force from the juxtaposition with Middle Platonism. People use it, rather, merely
to denote a new kind of interpretation of Platonism that emerged in Alexandria
in the third century CE, partly from elements that were available in the
intellectual and religious climate of the time, and partly directly connected to the
historical Plato or his writings. We believe that abundant first-rate scholarship on
late ancient philosophy, with Gerson’s double volume as a paradigmatic example,
is the best way to erase the last vestiges of the once pejorative meaning of the
term. (ii) For pragmatic reasons, “Platonism” and even “late Platonism” seem
deficient when compared with Neoplatonism. The term “Platonism” seems simply
too wide, lending itself to a variety of usages that are for our purposes potentially
misleading. Even “late Platonism” raises the question of how late exactly the
topic under study is. While Gerson sets out to describe the whole of late ancient
philosophizing and its relationship to Christian philosophy, we limit ourselves, in
the Handbook, to one school of thought – or better, one movement, scriptural
community, like-minded ways of doing philosophy. To be able to distinguish this
branch from other branches of Platonism, be they earlier or later, is vital for the
undertaking of this collection. Our object is the interpretation of Plato that gets
its first full expression in the Enneads of Plotinus in the third century CE and
continues in such central figures as Porphyry, Iamblichus, Proclus and many
others.
The pragmatic worry is connected to (iii) an interpretative view already
implicitly expressed above. We believe it is still philosophically valuable and
perhaps also possible to try to distinguish Neoplatonism from other kinds of
Platonism. That is, we do believe that the term on the cover of the book captures
a phenomenon. Whether there is a true unity holding together different thinkers
under the term “Neoplatonism”, and whether this unity could be something
stronger than a family resemblance, and described through a list of shared
background assumptions, convictions or doctrines, is an interesting question. In a
highly useful article, Gerson himself has given such a list for “Platonism”: (i) the
understanding of metaphysics as a hierarchy of intelligible and sensible layers of
which the higher is the explanatory, as well as the better and more ontologically
powerful; (ii) the top-down explanatory approach, in which the orientation of
investigation is predominantly vertical, not horizontal; (iii) a commitment to the
psychological as an irreducible explanatory category, and the connected dogma
of the immortality and eternity of the soul. Further, all or at least most Platonists
share the idea of (iv) cosmic unity and its explanatory role in everything,
including personal happiness (Gerson 2005a). As a particular branch of Platonism,
Neoplatonism should contain all these features, but be open for a more detailed
description, identifying it as one subset of “Platonism”. In general expositions,
particularly Neoplatonic features are often identified as the following: further
stratification of the explanatory intelligible realm above the sensible or physical
realm; the idea that soul uniquely mirrors this stratification in its own nature and
yet is capable of transgressing the limits of this stratification; a commitment to an
absolutely unified source and origin of this stratified order, the One. To argue,
however, for this or some other exhaustive list is not what we set out to do in this
volume. With this list as a guiding but not terminating map, the reader is advised
to read, absorb, and crisscross the chapters themselves.
With the above case in point, Neoplatonism today has reached a level of
conceptual maturity from which it can reflect upon itself. The understanding of
Neoplatonic thought has advanced so far as to allow and foster the critical re-
examination not only of its vast accumulation of data but also its definitions,
terminologies, methodologies, and internal and external relations. One
distinguishing characteristic which exposes Neoplatonism as a particularly
systematic, or holistic, way of thinking is that it operates within a closed system
of principles, the full interrelations and explanatory possibilities of which are
emerging, as you read this, in research. The newly inspired as well as the
seasoned expert of late ancient philosophy will equally welcome the shift from
the static and fractured presentation of the Neoplatonic worldview as a frozen
slice through three vertically organized hypostases into a dynamic whole of
interrelated ontological processes. This “animated” understanding of the
Neoplatonic structure of the universe as a sequential causal proliferation of
underlying principles of reality – from the One as an ultimate source of existence,
which is beyond existence itself, to the imprint of a paradigmatic intelligible
reality onto the physical realm at the level of the soul – grasps something that
could be defined as an essential feature of Neoplatonism, its systemic self-
sustainability.
The implications of this systematicity for pursuing different research questions
are significant. Since Neoplatonism has holistically thought out its principles, it
does not offer compartmentalized “chopped-up” kinds of knowledge concerning
individual sciences but presupposes the systematic application of the same
conceptual framework to all sciences. As a result, Neoplatonic studies do not call
for an inter-disciplinary but an all-disciplinary perspective. This kind of
uniformity merges the lines between Neoplatonism as philosophy and the other
spheres of knowledge. The dynamic understanding of the Neoplatonic structure
of reality has naturally carried over to a similarly dynamic and integrative
understanding of all spheres of knowledge. The static division of Neoplatonic
metaphysics, psychology, epistemology, physics, ethics and aesthetics has given
way, at least among the majority of researchers, to a dynamic approach in which
the specific parameters of the individual areas are understood as dependent on all
elements of the philosophical system as a whole. We have also striven to follow
this approach in the present collection, as will be explained in greater detail
below. While we have still chosen to adapt some thematical division for the sake
of organizational clarity, a closer look at it will discern its inherent fluidity.
On one hand, this cohesiveness has allowed us to chart, with precision, the
major signposts of the conceptual territory of Neoplatonism. But at the same
time, there is always a danger that it obscures the understanding of their
particulars and ends repeating its central structural solutions regardless of the
phenomena under investigation. In relation to this integrative approach, a future
line of research is to assess how Neoplatonism pervades all spheres of knowledge
and whether it forces its systematicity on them by compressing or comprising
their particular essence.
The form of methodological sustainability found in Neoplatonism is distinct in
comparison to other ancient philosophical models, and it may ultimately be
responsible for the particularly robust kind of aftermath Neoplatonism has
incited. Its systematic unity has the explanatory power either to absorb or to
deflect external influence. The effectiveness of this power is best illustrated by
the fact that Neoplatonism, we conjecture, is often either rejected wholesale by
other systems or absorbed, if not as a whole, nonetheless more profoundly than
most other philosophical systems. This unity seems to be the doctrinal armour
with which it pervades the philosophical foundation of Christianity, for an
example, and repels the conceptual advances of Gnosticism, for a counter-
example. Whether Neoplatonism is truly a philosophical approach marked by
particular difficulty in which any given part or idea can be separated from the
system as a whole remains to be seen.
Neoplatonism favours a top-down approach for explicating reality as a
sequence of causal ontological processes originating from an absolute hyper-
intelligible starting point and dissipating into indefinite but not infinite physical
multiplicity. Despite the ontological imperfection of the sensible realm and
human nature, as its principal investigator, this top-down organization of reality
can be substantiated only if the bottom can receive and thereby reflect higher
ontological principles. This notion imports more than a hint of a bottom-up
approach into how Neoplatonists themselves thought learning and knowledge-
acquisition work. For Plotinus (Enn. I.3[20].1–2), the method which takes the
human soul up necessarily starts from the realm of sense. For all those who are
not yet ready philosophers, sensible beauties, proportions and harmonies provide
a gateway to the true principles of reality behind them. With proper guidance,
they can gradually progress from what is more concrete and particular to what is
more abstract and general. The education of the advanced student, a philosopher
with a “winged” soul, consolidates this upward movement by studying
mathematics and finally dialectics (Enn. I.3[20].3). Dialectics itself proceeds
through inspecting, dividing and collecting species and genera, presumably
starting by working on their sensible exemplars, as Plato teaches in the Sophist
and elsewhere, until it arrives in the understanding of correct divisions and their
interrelations (Enn. I.3[20].4).2
 This fully fledged universal dialectics, no longer dependent upon sensible order
or particulars, then provides, as its next phase, the principles for the improved,
enlightened study of that very same sensible realm, both nature and human
beings, as well as their best possible life. The study of the sensible realm is the
turning point in which the ontological process of descent reverts its direction
upwards to its intelligible source. Existence then is a self-enclosed cycle in which
the top-down proliferation of reality needs a bottom-up introspection. The
philosopher’s task is to penetrate and understand the top-down and bottom-up
sides of the cycle, as the image on the cover implies. The symbolism of George
Frederic Watts’ After the Deluge: The 41st Day (1885–6) captures the most
powerful motifs in this holistic understanding and still leaves room for the
imagination to roam. The relation between the large fiery concentric circle
looming large over the raw simplicity of physical matter, painted in progressively
darker shades of green and brown, reveals its true meaning only after a careful
consideration of the painting and its title. “After the Deluge”, when all man-made
clutter is wiped out, the true interconnected structure of the universe is revealed.
In this new-found simplicity, there is no top-down without the bottom-up and
vice versa.
There is one last general point we need to make before presenting the thematic
organization of the Handbook. Alfred North Whitehead’s famous quip that the
Western philosophical tradition “consists of a series of footnotes to Plato” has
worn out its lustre today and needs to be toned down (Whitehead 1979: 39). This
is nowhere more evident than in the study of Neoplatonism, the very field which
founds its identity upon the study of Plato. It is no exaggeration, unlike
Whitehead’s pronouncement, if we define the Neoplatonists as exegetes of Plato.
Here it should suffice to mention Plotinus’ self-reflection: “that these statements
of ours are not new; they do not belong to the present time, but were made long
ago, not explicitly, and what we have said in this discussion has been an
interpretation of them, relying on Plato’s own writings for evidence that these
views are ancient” (Enn. V.1[10].8.10–14).3
Plato himself shares the same sentiment when he looks back to Pythagoras and
even Prometheus to trace the origin of what he deems the fundamental question
of philosophy, the relation between one and many (Phlb. 16c5–10). The ancient
philosophers’ conscientious styling of an incessant chain of authority, to which
they belong, is their way of articulating the understanding that conceptual
principles and even systems, explaining reality, do not come ex nihilo, from a
vacuum of intellectual interaction. This is simply impossible and perhaps this,
ultimately, is the silver lining of Whitehead’s statement. But the question for any
subsequent philosophical school is what to do with the tradition it aligns itself
with and how to do it.
If Pythagoras is Plato’s Homer, Plato is the Neoplatonists’. As with Homer,
with Plato there is a large body of text inviting myriad ways of interpretation.
The first exegetical task is formal; that is, it requires “fixing” the text(s),
understanding their literary genre (as is most evident in Proclus’ commentaries
on the Platonic dialogues) and organizing them in some didactically or
philosophically conducive way (curriculum). The latter gives rise to what we may
call “purple” Platonic dialogues: the Parmenides for metaphysics, the Timaeus for
physics, the Republic, the Phaedrus and the Phaedo for psychology and ethics. In
his programmatic article “Plotinus at Work on Platonism”, Dillon argues that
Plotinus is “neither the faithful Platonist that he saw himself as being, nor yet the
systematic philosopher that he has been presented as being by most modern
authorities on him”, but “a thinker with an open-minded, ‘aporetic’ approach to
philosophy” (Dillon 1992b: 189). Each chapter in the Handbook, in its own way,
shows that Dillon’s thesis applies to all Neoplatonists, not only to Plotinus.
The thematic organization of the Handbook follows, in its own manner, the up-
and-down direction of Plotinus’ dialectics. Parts I and II, dealing with factual
matters of sources, physical facilities, external interactions, methods and style of
exegesis, build the ground from which Neoplatonism reaches the height of its
philosophic system. The texts and archaeological remains are the two material
sources from which our understanding of Neoplatonism must begin. Part III,
devoted to metaphysics, tackles the core of the Neoplatonic system, the detailed
articulation of which has long been the primary focus of scholarly attention. It
further presents a genuine point of departure from which the Neoplatonic top-
down understanding of reality unfolds sequentially through the intelligible realm
and then the soul as presented in Parts IV and V respectively. Parts VI and VII
continue to unfold: Part VI shows how the ethical human realm is guided by and
dependent upon the very same causal and intelligible principles. It further
completes a full circle by explicating how Neoplatonic ethics, political theory and
aesthetics express and deal with the turning points for the upward journey back
to the ontological top. This thematical organization places metaphysics, in a
typically Plotinian fashion, in its centre upon which the other branches of
philosophy depend. Plotinus’ own understanding of the role of dialectics, then,
brings together the higher and lower echelons of reality into a dynamic self-
sustainable system. Thus we hope to bring into action the benefits of the new,
improved understanding of Neoplatonism as an organically developed whole of
interrelated ontological entities and processes. Part VII, featuring the main
directions of Neoplatonic legacy, concludes the volume with another kind of
unfolding, one through time, in history. This part is more conventional and only
tangentially pertains to the broadly understood dialectical undertaking, but it is
no less necessary. As its reader will quickly see, it effortlessly continues and at
times even more boldly reinforces the same conceptual tensions the mainstream
Neoplatonism so often grappled with.
Inspired by and indebted to the distinguished accomplishment of the
comprehensively structured, multi-authored collections of The Cambridge
History of Later Greek and Early Mediaeval Philosophy, edited by A. H.
Armstrong (1967), its successor, the two-volume Cambridge History of Philosophy
in Late Antiquity, edited by L. P. Gerson (2010), and The Cambridge Companion
to Plotinus, edited by L. P. Gerson (1996), we have striven for continuity but also
for distinction. The Handbook relies on the above-mentioned Histories to provide
(a) the exhaustive, from A to Z, treatment of the historical and intellectual
context of Neoplatonism, and (b) the individual profiles and import of its
representatives and developments. For lack of space, we cannot strive,
unfortunately, for a comparable coverage of different ancient thinkers and
present-day scholars. The Handbook aims to complement the individual
presentations in the two Cambridge Histories by examining concepts and themes
across authors as well as philosophical or ideological systems.
Within each part, some articles diachronically trace a particular conceptual
development or an argument, others synchronically treat a topic in a certain
author or a philosophical group. As the description of the thematic designation of
Parts III–IV above makes clear, this seemingly static compartmentalization does
not strictly follow the canonic subdivision of the different philosophical branches.
We have deemed it more suitable for presenting the essence of our subject and
more beneficial for the reader to retain some of the thematically confluent
authenticity of Neoplatonic thought. Pulling apart concerns that from our
perceptive are either metaphysical, epistemological or belong to the philosophy of
mind, for instance, gives structure and clarity to a handbook, but it does entail an
element of force: the ancient, and particularly the Platonic way of treating
philosophical dilemmas is not, of course, to divide the concerned areas in such a
straightforward manner. On the contrary, one of the most notable features of
Neoplatonic thought is the ease with which many of these themes are
symbiotically discussed. Inevitably some themes will resist any simple
categorization: the human is also the cosmic, the ethical the metaphysical, and
vice versa. In other cases, the most recent interpretative advances have directed
our designation of a particular area of thought. To this end, while Part III is
conventionally titled “metaphysics”, Part V is unconventionally titled “nature” –
instead of “physics” – in commensuration with the impact the newest directions
of research on the Neoplatonic views of the physical realm have commanded, as
explained in the sectional introduction to that part.
The need for a thematically flexible organization is most evident in Part IV in
which we found it impossible – and detrimental for the reader – to distinguish
between topics of psychology, epistemology, language and cognition. For reasons
of breadth and depth, the thematical organization of the Handbook has notably
expanded the sections on sources and style (respectively Parts I and II) in
comparison, for example, to the Cambridge Companion to Plotinus or many of
the shorter introductions to the field. For the same reasons, the section on the
legacy of Neoplatonic thought (Part VII) is more syncretic since these topics have
been amply treated in the two Cambridge Histories mentioned above and
elsewhere in more chronologically appropriate scholarly venues. Here we have
limited our selection to highlighting three particular cases of Neoplatonic
influence on the theological foundation of Christianity (West and East), Islam,
and Judaism in step with the latest trends in their respective fields.
The collection comprises, besides the thirty-three articles themselves, sectional
introductions for each part. We refer the reader interested to learn which articles
are included in each part and how they hang together to these shorter but more
detailed introductions. They are designed to explain the rationale, aims and main
themes of each part and to provide hands-on, topical guidance for their
individual content and particularities requiring special consideration. The
Handbook, however, as a whole is more than the sum of its parts and it is the
synergy created by all parts and chapters that, at least we hope, will give it a life
and meaning of its own.
If we were asked to put together a collection of this kind, say, fifty years ago,
the selection of topics and authors would have been, if not easy, pretty
straightforward: you gather nearly everyone whose work has made an impact in
the field. You then look at what they can do, what the emphasis of their work is,
and maybe supplement that initial inventory with one or two pieces on places
where you see true lacunae by trying to commission some entirely novel work or,
if push comes to shove, by writing the missing bits yourself, in less than
ambitious terms. Our situation was very different. For most sections, there was
already a formidable number of scholars and views to choose from, some
obvious, others with equal potential and originality. Besides the subconscious yet
obvious reasons that always guide one’s choices, we did consciously attempt to
find scholars with fresh takes on a given topic, and, if possible, the latest
contribution on a given subject. Their views build, of course, on those of their
predecessors and contemporaries, importing to the volume the work of the whole
Neoplatonic scholarly community. Further, we aspired to comprehensiveness not
merely in terms of thematic coverage, but, more importantly, in terms of
different styles, methodologies and scholarly voices. It goes without saying that
we do not share all views aired in the volume but we take pride in providing a
forum from which these views will take up a life of their own and will instigate
new scholarly dialogues in the times to come. In reality, we did not ask for
summaries of research. Instead we offered an opportunity to circulate new ideas
or to defend a recently opposed view, or we opened a possibility of seeing one’s
more detailed work in a larger context. The extent to which we are grateful to the
contributors cannot be underlined nearly enough: they have done what we asked
and more.
The Routledge Handbook of Neoplatonism, as suggested by its title, is designed
to be of use to both the newly inspired graduate or postgraduate who is still
looking for the forest after seeing the trees or looking for the trees after seeing the
forest, as well as for the expert who is interested to find in one place state-of-the-
art discussions, diversity of views, sources for reference, and perhaps even
kernels of new ideas. Having said that, it should be acknowledged that certain
chapters, especially in the parts on metaphysics, psychology and epistemology,
presuppose, more heavily than others, previous familiarity with the material. This
is not a self-study guide to what Neoplatonism is but an edifice of what
Neoplatonic studies are today. As hinted earlier in this introduction, the
collection is for everyone who is interested in Neoplatonism, ancient philosophy
and the rich intellectual history of late antiquity.
Here are some practical notes about how to use the volume and where to find
more information, if needed. All dates in the Handbook are in the Common Era
(CE) unless otherwise noted. The works of ancient authors are abbreviated, when
available, according to the list of “Authors and Works” in H. G. Liddell and R.
Scott, A Greek–English Lexicon, with a revised supplement (Oxford 1996), xvi–
xxxviii. A more up-to-date list of primary sources in ancient philosophy, also
organized by author, can be found in L. P. Gerson, The Cambridge History of
Philosophy in Late Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010) vol.
2, Appendix. The Greek terms are transliterated in the main body of text
throughout the volume, with the exception of Chapter 9 where the original Greek
is retained to facilitate the subject matter. Otherwise quotations from Greek are
limited to the footnotes. The contributors have used major text-critical editions
and translations, when available. The bibliographies for each chapter are
compiled into one and placed at the end of the volume, rather than at the end of
each chapter, not so much for reasons of economy of space, but with the intent to
provide a somewhat comprehensive, although not all-inclusive, survey of
Neoplatonic scholarship. Finally, we should clarify that, in an attempt to make
the references to Plotinus’ Enneades user-friendly for the reader familiar either
with the chronological arrangement of the treatises or with Porphyry’s (Plot. 4–
6), we have adopted the common practice to list the chronological order of a
treatise in brackets, immediately after the number of its position in Porphyry’s
arrangement. For example, Enn. I.1[53].1.1–2, from left to right, means First
Ennead (I), treatise number one (1) in Porphyry’s arrangement, the fifty-third
treatise (53) in the chronological order, chapter one (1), lines one to two (1–2).4

NOTES
1. To name just a few of the most influential scholars: Armstrong, Beierwaltes,
Bréhier, Cilento, Harder, Henry, Igal, MacKenna, Page, Rist, Schwyzer.
2. Sph. 253c–d; R. 531c–535a; Phdr. 265d–266a.
3. Armstrong’s translation (1966–88: vol. 5, 41); Greek text according to Henry
& Schwyzer (1964–82).
4. For more information on the history of the method of reference to Plotinus’
Enneades, see Tarrant, below, in Chapter 2, note 16 (p. 28).
 I

(Re)sources, instruction and interaction

 INTRODUCTION
This part of the Handbook strives to reconstruct the modus operandi of
Neoplatonism first as a philosophical school, with established curricula, forms of
instruction and facilities, and second as a flagship philosophical system, which
continuously interacts with the diverse intellectual and ideological environment
of late antiquity. This overarching task is achieved by three tributary goals,
consecutively centred on the practical questions of what Neoplatonists read, how
and where they pursued philosophy, with what other philosophical or religious
lines of thought they engaged and to what extent. The answers to each question,
of course, cannot be exhausted on the pages of the individual chapters. Instead,
the chapters severally outline the major framework and the most recent advances
of their subject. In some cases, such as Tarrant’s “Platonist curricula and their
influence” (Chapter 2) and Reydams-Schils and Ferrari’s “Middle Platonism and
its relation to Stoicism and the Peripatetic tradition” (Chapter 4), they have done
so through synthesis; in others, such as the interactions of Neoplatonism with
Gnosticism in Turner’s “Plotinus and the Gnostics: opposed heirs of Plato”
(Chapter 5) and Indian thought in Adluri’s “Plotinus and the Orient: aoristos
dyas” (Chapter 6), through ample textual evidence.
The first question concerns the sources the Neoplatonists used to develop and
establish their curricula. They were certainly conscious of the challenge of
gathering, organizing and perusing centuries-old texts, which hark back to the
“divine” Pythagoras, culminate in the Platonic dialogues and continuously
undergo numerous exegetical permutations. But the Neoplatonists are not
historians of philosophy, exclusively concerned with the preservation of the
Platonic originals. Nor are they avid but uncritical readers. They are philosophers
proper for whom doing philosophy entails both studying philosophy and teaching
philosophy. The Neoplatonists’ sources for studying the Platonic dialogues
became their resources for doing philosophy. The exegetical and instructional
aspects of their intellectual enterprise are entrenched in the organization of
Neoplatonic curricula, tailored to the changing tastes of their times and their
proponents. Thus we can distinguish specific traits in the curriculum under
Plotinus, Porphyry, Iamblichus, Ammonius and Olympiodorus. It also inevitably
includes a wide range of non-Platonic texts, from Aristotle and the
Neopythagoreans to the Orphic sacred texts and the Chaldaean Oracles.
In addition to carefully designed Neoplatonic curricula, the innate relation
Exploring the Variety of Random
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 Already, during our hibernal stay in the country of Aír, we had
been obliged to accommodate our old and austere friend Ánnur and
his numerous relatives with our Turkish waistcoats: but we had not
yet condescended to give away our under-clothing; and being
ourselves extremely poor and destitute in every respect, it was
certainly not a little privation we imposed upon ourselves. The
clothes of the sheikh and his vizier were all very wide, and not fit for
keeping out the cold. I have repeatedly had occasion to mention
how sensitive the Africans are to cold; and I am persuaded that, in
the burning regions of Central Africa, a good cargo of warm under-
clothing would find a ready sale, especially if it should arrive in the
months of December and January. But neither did our noble hosts,
on their part, fail to do everything in their power to render our
situation as comfortable as possible; and it was very satisfactory to
see how anxious the vizier was to supply us with all desirable
information.
One evening, at a late hour, when I was reposing in my tent and
about to go to bed, he sent for me in the greatest hurry, as if my life
or death were at stake; and upon hastening thither, anxious to hear
what was the matter, I was told that the vizier had been informed of
a person being in the encampment who, like my old friend the
mállem Katúri, had accompanied the memorable expedition of Ámba
Sámbo, the warlike chief of Chámba, towards the country of Ígbo on
the sea-coast. But while the latter had gone to Mbáfu with the main
body of the army, the adventurous proceedings of that person had
not even been limited by the boundaries of the sea; and he informed
me, in the most positive and conclusive manner, that the body of
troops which he accompanied had sailed along a rocky coast for
fifteen days, when they unexpectedly met with an island, where they
took possession of a number of muskets; their owners, who were all
dressed in jackets, having taken refuge in their large vessel.
He did not doubt that these people were Christians, and according
to the description which he gave me of the vessel, there can scarcely
be any doubt that it was a European one; but I did not feel quite
certain as to the point whether he had navigated a large river, or the
open sea, though I think it probable they went down the Niger, and
surprised one of the European traders at the mouth of the river. At
any rate, however, this is an extremely interesting circumstance. I
apprehend that the chiefs of Ádamáwa will hesitate in future to
extend their expeditions so far, after an English steamer has gone up
the river to the very heart of their own country. It was this same
Bórnu horseman who informed me that, on that expedition, all the
horses had died from a disease proceeding from worms.
While chatting together upon these subjects till after midnight, I
had an opportunity of giving the vizier some little information
regarding the peculiar character of the maritime power of the Imám
of Maskat, of which he had never heard before, and which interested
him exceedingly. With the Arabs of Timbúktu, also, this subject
formed a topic of the highest interest, as they had no idea that there
were people of the same faith living on the eastern shores of this
continent; and they delighted in the thought, that even in those
regions there were Moslems, who were not quite destitute of
political power. For, although the famous traveller Ebn Batúta has
given to his countrymen an account of these regions, it was only in
Sókoto that I met with a man, the learned Káderi dan Táffa, who
knew Sofála by name.
My friend Bíllama also frequently called on me, and furnished me
with a variety of information, while I applied myself strenuously to
the study of the Kanúri language, which had discouraged me at first,
owing to the difficulties of its grammatical structure: and I could
scarcely have had a better teacher than our friend Háj Edrís; for,
being of Kanúri origin, he had lived a great many years in the east,
especially in Medína, and had become almost an Arab. He was
certainly an intelligent and honest man; and in the course of our
stay we became indebted to him in many respects. Of course we
could not expect him to render his service gratuitously, as he himself
was not in affluent circumstances, though as a courtier he had to
keep up a good appearance; but being myself very poor at the time,
I could do nothing but place him upon a needle-pension, the needles
being very useful in the encampment for buying provisions.
 CHAPTER XLIII.
THE BORDER-REGION OF THE SHÚWA.

Saturday, Dec. 6.—At length, after a protracted stay, we left our

encampment at Díkowa, though still in complete uncertainty whether
the expedition was directed against Mándará or not; for as yet the
chief of that little country (which, through the adventures of Major
Denham, has obtained in Europe a greater share of attention than it
really deserves), relying upon the natural strength of his mountains,
had not yet made his submission. The rumours which we heard from
thence were of the most contradictory nature; and it seemed as if
Abú Bakr, which is the name of the present chief, had made up his
mind to a determined resistance, having retired into his mountain
fastnesses, to the great disappointment of the vizier, who repeatedly
asked me and my companion, with great anxiety, what was to be
done, and how it was possible for the cavalry to attack the enemy in
his mountainous retreat: for, whatever military strength the Kanúri
may still possess, it is almost solely to be looked for in their cavalry.
The former excellence of the Kánembú spearmen, resulting from
their enthusiastic devotion to their leader, has disappeared long ago,
at least since the overthrow of the old dynasty; and the vizier had to
expect very little sympathy from this body, as most of them were
decidedly favourable to the interest of his adversary, ʿAbd eʾ
Rahmán. As far as I had been able to learn the nature of those rocky
mountains on my journey to Yóla, I could not but think that not only
the cavalry of Bórnu, but even the Kánembú spearmen, accustomed
as they were to the level plains of their country, would be incapable
of climbing those rocky cliffs.
The whole country was enveloped in a thick fog when we started
in the morning; so that the passage of the komádugu, with its steep
banks, caused a considerable crowding and pushing, which was far
from agreeable. When we had got safely over, we had to pass a
thick forest, consisting of “bíto” and “kindín,” or talha-trees; and on
our left appeared the large walled place of Áfagé, a considerable
town, but not so large as Díkowa. After only a short interval, we saw
another town on our right, called Kodége, the walls of which were in
an advanced state of decay, but were at present adorned with living
battlements of male and female spectators.
Proceeding a short distance onward, we encamped at an early
hour to the westward of another walled town, called Zógoma. The
whole of this district, favoured as it is by nature, seems to have been
once in a very flourishing condition. It was, however, rather odd that
we should have encamped here, as the horses had to be led back to
Áfagé for water.
I had scarcely pitched my tent, when that cruel minister of police,
Lamíno, a man whose character my friend Háj Edrís used
significantly to describe in the few words, “Kárgo díbbi, kíndi díbbi”
(“Bad in heart, and bad in deed”), brought into my presence a
famous cut-throat of the name of Barka-ngólo, whose neck was
secured in a large machine called “bégo,” consisting of two pieces of
wood from four to five feet in length, and very heavy, so that every
movement was accompanied with the greatest pain. Nevertheless
my mischievous friend persuaded himself that it would gratify me to
see this miserable wretch fight with another culprit secured in the
same manner, by giving to each of them a long whip of
hippopotamus-hide, and forcing them by threats to flog each other.
It was a horrible sight; and I had great difficulty in convincing my
cruel friend that such a scene was far from being agreeable to me.
In order to get rid of him, I presented him with a quantity of cloves
to give to his beloved ʿAáisha, of whose culinary powers we had
already had several proofs. He was greatly pleased with my present;
and with an amorous smile he described to me how deeply he was
in love with his darling, saying that he loved her, and she loved him
also: “and,” added he, in a very sentimental way, “such a mutual
love is the greatest bliss on earth.” Europeans must not fancy that
there is no such feeling among these Africans as love, although it is
not quite so ethereal as it sometimes seems to be with us.
Notwithstanding these amorous declarations, which sounded very
ridiculous coming from such a mass of flesh as he was, I was glad
when he was gone.
We were now approaching hostile territory, and in the evening a
“gangéma,” or proclamation accompanied by beat of drum, was
made throughout the whole encampment, to the effect that the train
of camels and pack-oxen, which previously had greatly hemmed in
the cavalry, should not start until after the former had moved on.
Zógoma is the farthest town of the Bórnu territory in this direction;
and the following day we encamped in a district of the name of
Mása, close to a swamp, thickly covered with water-plants,
principally the Pistia stratiotes. Several Shúwa villages were lying
about at short distances from each other.
On the road we passed some cotton-plantations and stubble-
fields. The chief agricultural produce of Mása consisted of “sábade,”
the sweet sorghum or Sorghum saccharatum. This sort of grain I
had not yet seen in the course of my journey; but in Díkowa my
friend Malá Ibrám had sent me a large quantity of it, in order that I
might indulge in this African luxury. At that period I was surprised at
the great length of these stalks, some of which measured fourteen
feet; but how astonished was I afterwards, when, in the course of
my travels in the luxuriant valleys of Kebbi, I found specimens of
twice that length! This evening the vizier treated us with the marrow
of the “sábade,” which, in snow-white pieces of about eight inches in
length, were neatly placed upon a straw cover or “féfe,” such as are
used in the country. While indulging in this simple African dainty, our
conversation, very naturally, turned upon the cultivation as well as
the preparation of sugar, which is one of those articles of European
industry that most excites the admiration of the natives of this
country. But when they learn in what a filthy manner it is refined,
they become horrified, and hesitate whether they shall say farewell
to this indulgence, or overcome the scruples and prejudices of their
creed.
 There is no doubt that the “sábade” would yield a rich produce of
sugar; but it is not necessary to have recourse to this expedient, as
the sugar-cane itself grows wild in several regions of Negroland, and
we shall actually find a small plantation of it, and boiling-houses, on
a small scale, carried on by a native in the neighbourhood of Sókoto.
Our conversation at these African soirées with the vizier became
sometimes so learned, that even Ptolemy with his “Mandros oros”
was quoted. But, sad as it must seem to all who, like myself, delight
in going back into remote antiquity, this famous mountain, which at
the first sight seems to be an ancient memorial of the Mándará
mountains of some seventeen hundred years standing, appears to
belong entirely to Western Africa. Our kind host always found great
delight in every kind of information; it was only a pity he was
wanting in manly energy to carry out his good projects.
Monday, Dec. 8.—Woe to those regions through which an army
takes its march in these parts of the world, were it even their own
country. We passed this morning some very extensive cornfields, the
crops of which were of the most luxuriant growth; but
notwithstanding the piteous clamours, and even the threats of the
slaves who were watching on the highly raised platforms in order to
keep away the birds from the corn, the rich ears fell a prey to the
hungry horsemen, for their own sustenance and that of their
animals. These raised platforms are here called “górgo”; and the
ropes which were fastened between them and the trees were
provided with small hollow gourds, “káre,” filled with stones, which,
when set in motion, were intended to frighten away the birds. After
a tolerable march, we took up our encampment near the straggling
hamlet Delhé, a locality touched at by Major Denham, on his
unfortunate expedition to Mándará, but placed by him much too far
southward.
All the cottages in these Shúwa villages have a conical roof rising
to a great elevation, and tapering like a sugar-loaf,—the thatch being
put on in a very irregular way, and fastened with ropes, though it is
pleasantly and cheerfully adorned by the climbers of the “ságade” or
“kubéwa,” a species of the Cucurbita melopepo (squash gourd), if
not identical with it, the fruit of which, when boiled, has a very
pleasant taste, and in some regions of Negroland, as far as
Timbúktu, forms the principal vegetable for seasoning food.
The long duration of the rainy season here, as well as in
Ádamáwa, renders sheds for the cattle necessary; and these consist
of huts constructed similarly to the dwellings of man, but more
spacious, with the exception that the walls consist merely of trunks
of trees. The Shúwa of this village, as well as those of a
neighbouring one, which after the name of a chief is called Háj
Amaka, belong to the tribe of the Bulgówa, or ʿAwisíya. The place
where we encamped was full of brushwood; and it took us a long
time to pitch our tents. The variation of the temperature was so
great, that I caught a severe cold; it was therefore agreeable to me
that we remained here the following day: for while, during the
greatest heat, at two o’clock p.m., the thermometer in the ventilated
tent showed often from 93° to 96° Fahr., during the night it
generally fell to between 50° and 53°. The vizier was kind enough,
when I did not come to his soirée, to send one of his young slaves
with a censer; but I was so unfortunate as to excite the anger of the
little tyrannical messenger, who wanted me to imitate their own
custom, which is, to place the censer under their wide shirt, and, by
drawing the opening close over the head, to concentrate the fumes
arising from the incense under their shirt, and receive it into the
face, while I, thinking this rather too much, was satisfied with
holding my face over it.
Wednesday, Dec. 10.—We made a short march in advance, and
transferred our encampment to Díggera, through a country where
wilderness and cultivated ground alternated. Here we remained the
five following days; and I had sufficient leisure to regret that I was
not better provided with books. Anxious to employ my time usefully,
I began, with the assistance of two Mándará, or rather Wándalá
slaves, to write down a vocabulary of the language of that country,
which by the natives themselves is called “Ára-Wándalá,” as they call
their country “Khakh-Wándalá,” or “Khákh-Úndalá.”
 The cold which we experienced during our stay here we
considered very severe—at least from an African point of view and
feeling; for in Europe it would have been thought very moderate.
Fortunately our encampment was more comfortable than it had been
at Delhé, and presented features of considerable interest; for here
we saw the first complete example of those shallow stagnant
watercourses which are so highly characteristic of the equatorial
regions of this continent, and explain at the same time the
conflicting statements with regard to the direction of so many
watercourses in these regions. However, there are two different
kinds of these shallow waters: first, such as are in immediate
connection with larger rivers, and often run parallel to them, and
which most appropriately deserve to be called backwaters; and,
secondly, those which are quite independent, and form a small
water-system by themselves. To the latter kind seems to belong this
swampy sheet of water, or “ngáljam,” of Díggera, although I heard
some Shúwa affirm that it extended to the Tsád.
I first turned my steps eastward, where the encampment
extended to the very foot of the beautiful trees, which, forming a
rich border of the finest embroidery from the hand of nature, girt the
water. Most of them were either fig (sycamore) or tamarind-trees.
The aspect of the scenery was most interesting, and under almost
every tamarind-tree a group of people was encamped. The cavity
where this sheet of water had collected formed a very slight
depression in the meadow-ground, it being almost flat; the water, to
all appearance, had already decreased considerably, and only in a
few places presented an open sheet, being in general closely
overgrown with rank grass and tall reeds. I followed it to a
considerable distance towards the north-north-west, till I was
obliged by the thick covert to retrace my steps, and then turned
westward. The far larger extension of the water during the rainy
season was sufficiently indicated by the luxuriant growth of trees. I
crossed it at a spot where it was not so extensive, and found the
bottom of it extremely muddy, which made the passage rather
difficult, though the water was only two and a half feet deep. The
intended outlines of its shores greatly distinguished it from those
more complete and regular-shaped ngáljams, which, in the course of
time, I had an opportunity of visiting, not only in those extensive
plains between the river Bénuwé and Shári, but also in the regions
of the middle course of the so-called Niger; for, in the quarters just
mentioned, these shallow waters, or meadow-waters, often stretch
out, in a straight or regularly sweeping line, like artificial canals, to
an immense distance,—especially that most interesting sheet of
water three days west of Timbúktu, the “Áraf-n-áman,” or Rás el má.
Of quite a different nature is the character of the famous Bahar el
Ghazál, which joins the Tsád on the north-eastern side, being a
broad sandy valley girt by a rich border of vegetation. This peculiar
valley, which it was not our destiny to become acquainted with by
ocular inspection, formed the subject of conversation with the vizier
on Sunday evening; and a disputation arose, of so scientific a
character that it might have silenced all those who scoff at the
uncivilized state of the population of these regions. To be sure, the
two principal persons in this conversation were Arabs; but their
forefathers had been settled in these regions for at least ten
generations.
Here in Díggera, where we were only one good day’s march
distant from the capital of Mándará, our friends were obliged to
come to a decision upon the future destination of the expedition.
After the news which had arrived some days previously, that the
petty chief of Mándará, whose ancestor once completely defeated a
countless host of the Bórnu people, had decided upon making
resistance, they had been very silent and dejected, and were
therefore extremely delighted when at length, to-day, a servant of
the obstinate vassal made his appearance with a present of ten
beautiful female slaves, and the offer of complete submission. So at
least we were told; but the affair seemed very doubtful, and a native
of Mándará, or, as they say, Ár-Wándalá, afterwards assured me that
his master, the powerful “Tuksé” of Khákh-Úndala, had been so far
from making his submission to the insolent “Móthaké” (by this name
they call the Bórnu people), that, on the contrary, he had treated
them with contempt. Which of the two assertions was correct I do
not know; but it is probable that the chief of Mándará thought it
prudent to consent to some sort of compromise—perhaps through
the intermediation of ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán, the sheikh’s brother.
Whatever may have been the case, the vizier informed us in the
evening, in a very cheerful manner, that the affair with Mándará had
taken the most favourable turn, and that in consequence the sheikh,
with a small part of the army, was to retrace his steps, while he
himself, with the far larger portion, was to undertake an expedition
into the Músgu country, and that we, of course, were to accompany
him. Now we were well aware that the object of this expedition was
partly to make slaves, and that, in our character as messengers of
the British Government, we ought to endeavour to keep aloof from
anything connected with the infamous subject of slavery; but as we
could not hinder it if we kept back, and as by accompanying the
expedition we might prevent a deal of mischief, and might likewise
have a fair opportunity of convincing ourselves whether what was
related of the cruelty of the Mohammedans in these expeditions was
true or exaggerated, we decided upon accompanying the vizier. At
the same time it was of the utmost importance to visit that very
region which was the object of the expedition, as it was the only
way to decide upon the relation between the central basin of the
Tsád and the great western river, with its eastern branch, while there
was no possibility of visiting it by ourselves. We had already
convinced ourselves that the country of the Músgu is not, as Major
Denham has represented it, a mountainous, inaccessible tract; but
we were puzzled at the number of watercourses of which our
informants had spoken, and we could not have the least idea how
fertile a country it was, and how far remote its inhabitants were from
that state of barbarism which had been imputed to them. We
therefore, although reluctantly, and not without scruple, at length
determined upon accompanying the expedition; and I hope that
every considerate person who takes into account all the
circumstances in which we were placed, will approve of our
resolution.
 Wednesday, Dec. 17.—At length we proceeded onwards, entering
new regions never trodden by European foot. Our departure having
been delayed in the morning, owing to the separating of the army,
we started rather late, leaving the sheikh, with the rest of the
“kebú,” behind. The country at once presented a new and interesting
feature. Already in Bórnu a considerable proportion of our diet had
consisted of native rice, and we had been rather astonished at its
black colour and bad quality. We had heard that it grew wild in the
southern provinces of the country; but we had never yet seen it, and
it was only this morning, after we had left Díggera and had traversed
extensive stubble-fields of millet intermixed with beans, that we
obtained a first view of a “shinkáfaram,” or wild rice-field, in the
midst of the forest. We were then no longer surprised at the quality
of the rice brought to the market in Kúkawa being so bad, as we felt
justified in presuming that the elephant would have sense enough to
take the best for himself, and leave the rest for the people. As we
proceeded we found the whole wilderness, although not thickly
wooded, full of pools of water and dense rice-fields.
The country to-day presented a truly tropical aspect; and our
encampment, lying near an extensive pond, or small lagoon,
surrounded with a luxuriant growth of rice and a dense border of
spreading trees, was so full of the footprints of the elephant, that
scarcely a level spot of two or three feet in diameter could be found.
This was by no means pleasant, in our present mode of living, as we
were without a camp-stool, or anything to sit or lie upon; for the
argillaceous soil is so excessively hard, that the borders of these
holes produced by the unwieldy foot of the elephant cause a great
deal of pain to a person lying on the ground with nothing but a mat
or carpet. The most essential instrument on this whole journey was
the “láteram,” the digging-instrument (from “langin,” “I dig”),
consisting of a large piece of wood about three feet long, with a
heavy iron point; for without the láteram it would have been
impossible to fix the dáteram (from “dangin,” “I fasten, stop”), or the
pole to which the horses are fastened during the night. In general,
every horseman digs the hole in which the pole is fastened with his
own spear; but this soil was so hard that it was scarcely possible to
make the smallest hole in it. Of course, during the rainy season, it is
just as soft and muddy as it is hard in the dry season, and scarcely
passable in consequence.
A giraffe was caught to-day. I had been of opinion that this
timorous animal was not found in the thickly inhabited regions near
the equator; but I soon learned from experience that it is not at all
rare in the wildernesses which alternate with the densely populated
regions of these districts. The elephant, however, is the predominant
animal of these quarters; and the large market-place, Fátawel, which
I have mentioned on my journey to Ádamáwa, and the Logón town
Jéna, or rather Jínna, seem to be of considerable importance for
their ivory-trade.
In the evening I had the misfortune to be stung by a scorpion,
which had got into my bernús. As I had not noticed the animal in the
dark, and thinking that it was nothing but one of the formidable
black ants, the bite of which is very painful, I neglected the wound
at first, so that the poison penetrated to the shoulder, and rendered
my right arm useless for two days.
Thursday, Dec. 18.—Seeing that we were now entirely in the
hands of the vizier, my companion and I used to present ourselves at
his tent every morning, and to ride for some time near him. I,
however, soon found it pleasanter to keep more in the rear of the
army, a little in advance of his female slaves; and in the narrow
paths in the midst of the forest, where the crowding became very
disagreeable, I used to keep behind his led-horses. Of female slaves
on horseback and led-horses the vizier had with him the moderate
number of eight of each kind, while the sheikh had twelve; but this
appeared to me a small number when I afterwards saw the king of
Bagírmi returning from the expedition with a string of forty-five
mounted female partners. These black damsels were all clothed in
white woollen bernúses, with their faces completely veiled, and were
closely watched. To-day we had a more complete specimen of that
peculiar kind of shallow water which I have mentioned above; and
the army, while they were winding around it on the fresh green
meadow-lands, closely hemmed in on their left by a grove of fine
trees, presented a highly interesting scene. From thence, passing
through a thick covert, we entered the beautiful open district of
Wolóje, which comprises several hamlets. Here I was amused at
seeing the head man of a village successfully putting to flight, with a
large branch of a tree, a troop of pilfering horsemen. A little beyond
these hamlets the encampment was chosen, at some little distance
from a very extensive “ngáljam.”
Our conversation with the vizier in the evening again took a
geographical turn, owing to the presence of his spy or scout, who
had just returned from delivering his message to the Músgu prince
Ádishén. The vizier was as yet undecided in which direction to turn
his steps; and we heard a native chief, of the name of Puss, or Fuss,
mentioned in a manner that assured us our friends were afraid to
attack him. Ádishén, the chief just mentioned, was in a certain
degree subject to the rulers of Bórnu; but it seemed rather an
ironical assertion that this prince would be pleased with the arrival of
the expedition. While describing his reception at the court of the
chief, the scout indulged in a lively description of the customs
prevalent among these people, whose chief had only outwardly
adopted Islám. His Majesty, he said, used to indulge in amorous
intercourse with his female slaves, of whom he had two hundred,
before the eyes of his people; an account which was rather
confirmed by Kashélla Belál, who had been his host several times.
Belál, who was a very jovial old fellow, also stated that this little
prince was not jealous of the favours bestowed by his female
partners upon his guests; but, on the contrary, that he himself
voluntarily gave them up to them. Such a degrading custom may
indeed be followed by this petty chief, who has betrayed his country
in order that, by the influence of his more powerful neighbours, he
might rule over his countrymen; but we need not draw a conclusion
from him as to the customs of the whole tribe, although, of course,
they regard the relation of the sexes in a simpler point of view than
we do.
 Friday, Dec. 19.—The country through which we passed, on
leaving our encampment in the morning, was most charming, and of
a most expansive bound, and exactly suited for pastoral tribes like
the Shúwa and Fúlbe; but traces of cultivation also, and even of
cotton-fields, were not wanting: while further on, the dúm-bush
appeared, and was after a while succeeded by the tall fan-shaped
dúm-palm itself. The country being open, and without any
obstruction whatever, the “kibú,” or army, marched in an extended
line of battle, “báta,” separated into groups of the most varied
description in attire and appearance: the heavy cavalry, clad in thick
wadded clothing, others in their coats of mail, with their tin helmets
glittering in the sun, and mounted on large heavy chargers, which
appeared almost oppressed by the weight of their riders and their
own warlike accoutrements; the light Shúwa horsemen, clad only in
a loose shirt, and mounted upon their weak unseemly nags; the self-
conceited slaves, decked out gaudily in red bernúses or silken
dresses of various colours; the Kánembú spearmen, almost naked,
with their large wooden shields, their half-torn aprons round their
loins, their barbarous head-dresses, and their bundles of spears;
then, in the distance behind, the continuous train of camels and
pack-oxen: all the people full of spirits, and in the expectation of rich
booty, pressing onward to the unknown regions towards the south-
east.
It was an exalted feeling of unrestrained liberty which animated
me while, mounted on my noble charger, I rode silently along at the
side of this motley host, contemplating now the fine, beautiful
country, now the rich scenes of human life, which were illumined by
a bright morning sun. As yet no blood had been shed by this army,
and neither misery, devastation, nor the horrors of people torn from
their homes, cried out against it. Every one seemed to think only of
sport and amusement. Now and then a stir would be raised in the
whole army when a gazelle started forth from the thicket,
endeavouring to escape from her pursuers, but soon found herself
hemmed in on every side, while Shúwa horsemen and Kánembú
spearmen, each endeavouring to possess himself of the prize, cried
out to his rivals in the pursuit, “Kólle, kólle!” (“Leave off, leave off!”)
as if the prey was already his own, while others animated their
companions by shouting out, “Góne, góne!” (“Chase, chase!”) the
sounds re-echoing from one troop to another; or when a fat Guinea-
fowl, “káji,” or a partridge, “kwíye,” roused from its secure covert,
took to its wings, but, trying to fly over those widely scattered troops
of hostile men, and frightened by their cries, was soon obliged to
look for a moment’s respite, and, after a vain struggle, fell a prey to
its pursuers, who often, while they laid hold of it, tore it actually into
pieces.
The wide open country seemed to invite the traveller into the far
distance; but to-day our march was only of short duration, and
before eight o’clock in the morning a new encampment, upon a
fresh spot, was again springing up. This whole country is still
included in the extensive district of Wolóje; but the water, which was
close to the side of the encampment, has the peculiar name of
Kodásalé. The whole of the inhabitants of the district belong to the
Shúwa tribe of the Bénesé. To the east of Kodásalé lies the place
Lawári, towards the west Súggemé, beyond Úlba, and south-west of
the latter Memé, and north-west Momó. All these villages are
inhabited by Shúwa and Kanúri in common; beyond is the wilderness
or karága.
I, too, had my little daily “nógona,” or divan, in which Kashélla
Bíllama, my friend from Ádamáwa, and Háj Edrís, formed my
principal courtiers, or “kokanáwa,” though occasionally other people
attended. All these people I kept attached to me by presents of a
few needles, with which they supplied their wants in the
neighbouring villages. Bíllama informed me to-day that for three
needles he had bought sufficient provision for his horse for one day;
for two he had bought a wooden bowl, or “búkuru”; and for six more
a good supply of meat. Thus this insignificant production of
European industry became of the highest value to me; and it
obtained still more value and importance, in the course of my
journey to Bagírmi, when it constituted my only wealth, and in
consequence procured me the noble title of “needle-prince,”
(“malaríbra”). We remained here the following day, as the army had
to provide itself with corn, or rather Negro grain, as we were told
that we should enter upon a wild uncultivated tract, the border-
region between the seats of the Mohammedans and those of the
pagan tribes, which, as is generally the case in these parts of the
world, has been reduced to desolation.
Each of the surrounding villages had to send two ox-loads of
grain, which, however, did not benefit the army in general, but fell
entirely to the share of the friends and followers of Lamíno, the
remainder of this immense host being thrown upon their own
resources. All the grain was carried on asses. It was in this
encampment that the vizier made a present to Mr. Overweg of a
small lion. He had given him, on a former occasion, a “súmmoli.”
This is a very ferocious cat, of rather rare occurrence, which is said
not only to attack gazelles, but young cattle or calves. It was of a
light brown colour, the hind part, however, being black, and had very
pointed, upright ears, “súmmo,” a circumstance from which the
name has been derived. The ears, moreover, are ornamented with a
black stripe. A great many curious stories are related by the people
with regard to the ferocity of this animal, and from what we
ourselves had an opportunity of observing, it seems to be a
marvellous little creature: for, though still very young and small, it
was nevertheless extremely fierce, and was quite master of the
young lion. Both animals were fed with boiled milk, of which they
were very fond; but the continual swinging motion which they had to
endure on the back of the camels in the heat of the day, caused
their death very soon.
Sunday, Dec. 21.—The crowding and thronging was excessive
when we started in order to pursue our march. The wilderness at
first was tolerably clear, being at times evidently a place of resort for
numerous herds of elephants, as the quantity of dung, and the
uninterrupted tracks of deep footprints, which gave to the soil the
appearance of a colossal chessboard, amply testified. After a march
of about six miles the wilderness became more thickly overgrown,
and presented a fine forest scenery; but, as is generally the case on
such warlike expeditions, there is no leisure to pay attention to
special phenomena, especially as the Bórnu horses are in general
very wild and vicious, and in the throng everybody was continually
liable to come into collision with his neighbour’s horse, which,
perchance, might be a furious kicker.
The general character of this jungle was this. The ground was
covered with dúm-bush, which formed a thick brushwood, and here
and there with rank grass, while the forest in general consisted of
middle-sized trees, chiefly mimosas and kálgos, though there were
other specimens, especially the kókia-tree, which I had first seen on
my journey from Gezáwa to Kátsena, the trees of smaller size being
separated into groups by large spreading specimens of the vegetable
kingdom, mostly of the ficus kind; for monkey-bread-trees seemed
to be wanting entirely, and altogether I saw few specimens of this
tree in the Músgu country. Very remarkable nests of birds,
suspended from the branches, were observed, not unlike a purse,
with a long narrow neck hanging down and forming the entrance; or
rather like a chemist’s retort suspended from the head, the shank
being several inches long, and the whole beautifully fabricated with
the most surprising skill. Of the skilful manufacturers of these fine
dwellings we did not obtain a sight; but probably it is a species of
loxia. In this thick covert, several young elephants were hunted
down, and even the giraffe seemed frequent.
The place which we chose for our encampment was adorned by
numerous fan-palms, which, although in general identical with the
species called Chamærops humilis, nevertheless by their height
appeared to be a distinct variety, and gave to the encampment a
very picturesque appearance. This forest was here so dense, that
only the spot where the vizier himself encamped together with his
own followers was free from brushwood, while all the other people
were first obliged to clear the ground with much trouble. This was
the first day, since our setting out, that we made a tolerable march.
The whole manner in which the expedition was conducted was an
unmistakable proof of an effeminate court, especially if we take into
account the principle of carrying on war in these countries, where
only sudden inroads can insure any great success. In the evening
there arrived a small complimentary present from Ádishén, the
tributary Músgu chief, consisting of five horses and twenty oxen. But
while in this manner the more influential men in the army were well
supplied with food, the greater part were very badly off, and most of
them were reduced to the core of the dúm-bush or ngílle, which by
the Bórnu people is facetiously called “kúmbu bíllabe” (“the food of
the country town”). But a good sportsman might have obtained
better food for himself, and we even got a small ostrich egg from the
vizier.
It was a great pity that we had purposely avoided the more
frequented and general road, which passes by several settlements of
the Fúlbe or Felláta, in order not to give any trouble to the latter; for
no doubt that tract would have been far more interesting, as well
from a natural point of view, as with regard to the political state of
the country, as it would have given us the clearest insight into the
way in which that enterprising and restless people is pushing on
every day more and more, and strangling, as it were, the little
kingdom of Mándará.
Monday, Dec. 22.—Dense forest continued to prevail during the
first five miles of our march. It then cleared, and was succeeded by
considerable fields of wild rice, most of which was burnt down; for,
as I have repeatedly had occasion to mention, all these wildernesses
of Central Africa are set on fire after the rainy season. The whole
ground in this district was one uninterrupted succession of holes
made by the foot of the elephant, which obstructed the march of the
army very considerably, and was the reason of several horses being
lamed. Sálah, a younger brother of the vizier, a very intelligent man,
broke his arm. A herd of six elephants was in the neighbourhood,
and after a great deal of confusion, one animal, which got between
the horsemen, was killed. It is no wonder that these regions are so
frequented by them, as they find here plenty of the choicest food.
The jungles of wild rice were only interrupted for a short time by a
tract covered with dúm-bush. Water was plentiful, every now and
then a considerable pond appearing, girt by beautiful trees, and at
present enlivened by groups of horsemen, who were watering their
animals.
After a march of about fifteen miles we encamped close to a
larger sheet of water, which was full of fish of the species called
“bégeli,” and enabled us to give to our food that day more variety,
the forest, as well as the water, contributing its share; for, besides
the fish, we had roast hare and elephant’s flesh, which was very
palatable, and much like pork.
Tuesday, Dec. 23.—Three heavy strokes upon the drum, at the
dawn of day, set our motley host once more in motion. It was an
important day, and many of the principal people had exchanged their
common dress for a more splendid attire. We entered the Músgu
country, and at the same time came into contact with fragments of
that nation, who, having spread from the far west over the one-half
of Africa, are restlessly pushing forward and overwhelming the
pagan tribes in the interior. These are the Fúlbe or Felláta, the most
interesting of all African tribes, who, having been driven from Bórnu,
have here laid the foundation of a new empire.
Twice on our march we were obliged to make a halt: the first time
owing to the arrival of Ádishén, the Músgu chief, with a troop of
naked horsemen mounted on a breed of small, unseemly, but strong
ponies, without saddles and bridles, and presenting altogether a
most barbarous and savage spectacle. The second halt was caused
by the appearance of a Púllo or Felláta chief, with two hundred
horsemen of his nation, who, by their shirts and shawls, their
saddles and bridles, certainly claimed a higher degree of civilization,
but who, nevertheless, were far from exhibiting a grand appearance.
This chief was an officer of Khúrsu, the ruler of the town or
principality of Fétte or Pétte, which we had left at a short distance to
the west. He came to join this expedition, the object of which was to
weaken the Músgu tribes, who, behind their natural defences of
rivers and swamps, had hitherto been able to maintain their
independence. Of course, on this occasion the policy of these Fúlbe
chiefs went hand in hand with that of the Bórnu people, although it
is not a little remarkable, and serves to show the slight political unity
existing between the integral parts of these empires, that while the
governor of Ádamáwa was at present on a hostile footing with the
ruler of Bórnu, one of his vassals was allowed to enter into an
alliance with the latter.
After these interruptions we pursued our march, and reached,
about half an hour before noon, the northernmost of the Músgu
villages, which is called Gábari, surrounded by rich fields of native
grain; but everything presented a sad appearance of pillage and
desolation. None of the inhabitants were to be seen; for, although
subjects of Ádishén, who enjoyed the friendship and protection of
the rulers of Bórnu, they had thought it more prudent to take care of
their own safety by flight than to trust themselves to the discretion
of the undisciplined army of their friends and protectors. The
preceding evening the order had been issued through the
encampment that all the property in the villages of Ádishén should
be respected, and nothing touched, from a cow to a fowl, grain only
excepted, which was declared to be at the disposal of everybody.
It was rather remarkable that the greatest part of the crops were
still standing, although we had been lingering so long on our road,
and had given sufficient time for the people to secure them for
themselves. All the grain consisted of the red species of holcus,
called by the Bórnu people “ngáberi kemé,” which grows here to the
exclusion of the white species and that of millet. All the people of
the army were busy in threshing the grain which they had just
gathered at the expense of their friends, and loading their horses
with it. Even the fine nutritive grass from the borders of the swamp,
which, woven into long festoons, the natives had stored up in the
trees as a provision against the dry season, was carried off, and,
notwithstanding the express order to the contrary, many a goat,
fowl, and even articles of furniture which had been left behind by
the natives, fell a prey to the greedy host.
The spectacle of this pillage was the more saddening, as the
village not only presented an appearance of comfort, but exhibited in
a certain degree the industry of its inhabitants. In general each
courtyard contained a group of from three to six huts, according to
the number of wives of the owner. The walls of the dwellings,
without a single exception, were built of clay, which in the courtyards
of the richer people even formed the building material of the fences.
The roofs of the cottages were thatched with great care, and at least
as well as in any house or village in Bórnu, and far superior to the
thatching of the Shúwa. The roofs even exhibited traces of various
styles, and perhaps a certain gradation in the scale of society.
Almost every courtyard enclosed a shed, besides the huts, and one
granary built of clay, and from twelve to fifteen feet high, with an
arched roof, likewise of clay, there being an opening at the top which
was protected by a small cover of thatching, as the accompanying
woodcut shows. The way in which the natives had stored up their
supply of hay for the dry season was very remarkable, the rank
grass being woven into festoons of about fifteen feet in length, and
hung up in the kórna-trees which adorned the fields.
Having roved about at my
leisure, I pursued my march,
and, emerging from the
cornfields, entered upon open
meadow-grounds, partly under
water, which spread out to a
considerable extent, and
which, with their fresh green
turf, formed a beautiful
contrast to the tall yellow crops
which I had just left behind.
Ascending a little, we kept
straight towards a group of
splendid trees which adorned
the fields in front of another
village. The village was called
Kórom, and belonged to a chief
under the authority of Ádishén,
while Kadé, the residence of the latter, was only at a short distance.
In these fields the vizier had dismounted and chosen the place for
the encampment; and it was with a sad, sympathetic feeling that I
witnessed the lopping of the rich branches of the fine trees, which
were without doubt, the most splendid specimens of the karáge-tree
which I had seen in Negroland, not excepting those in the Marghí
country. The largest among them measured not less than eighty feet
in height, and the diameter of their crown could scarcely be less; but
the foliage of this tree is by no means so dense and so regularly
shaped as that of the fig or tamarind-tree. None of these fine trees,
which had adorned the landscape, escaped destruction, in order to
provide fences for the larger tents; but the few monkey-bread-trees
which here appeared, owing to the scanty foliage with which their
gigantic branches were decked out, escaped unhurt. Here we
remained the two following days, and the encampment became very
confined, the more so as the ground was rather uneven. The delay
could scarcely be defended in a strategical point of view, as it could
not but serve to put all the neighbouring chiefs, who were hostile to
Ádishén, on their guard against any sudden inroad. But it was well
that they did so, as by a sudden inroad the poor persecuted natives
might have been totally annihilated.
In order to employ my leisure hours, I looked about for
information respecting the country we had just entered, and was
fortunate enough to collect some valuable data.
The Músgu, or Músekú, are a division of the great nation of the
Mása, which comprises the Kótoko, or Mákari, the people of Logón,
or Lógone, the Mándará, or Úr Wándalá, with the Gámerghú, and
the large tribe of the Bátta, and probably even that of the Mbána. Of
these tribes the most intimately related to the Músgu are the people
of Logón, who, as we shall soon have occasion to show, are nothing
but a section which has quite recently separated from the parent
stock, and constituted itself as a distinct community, owing to its
higher state of civilization. Amongst the various divisions of the
Kótoko, Ngála and Klésem seem to be most nearly related to the
Músgu.
 However insignificant the tribe of the Músgu may appear in the
eyes of the European, the dialects of the various communities into
which it is split, owing to the hostile manner in which they are
opposed to one another, and their entire want of friendly
intercourse, differ so much that, as I was assured the people of
Lúggoy have great difficulty in understanding those of Wúliya and
Démmo. Unfortunately I had no opportunity of collecting specimens
of the other dialects besides that spoken by the people of Lúggoy.
Their principal “sáfi,” or fetish, consists in a long spear-like pole,
similar to that of the Marghí; but nevertheless there seems to be a
considerable difference in their superstitious worship, for, while with
the Marghí the pole appears to be rather a symbol than an image of
the deity, and the real worship is attached to the sacred locality, with
the Músgu tribes I did not see a single specimen of a sacred grove.
The Músgu call their fetish “kefé.”
In the afternoon I attended some time at the vizier’s, and here
made the acquaintance of an interesting and adventurous old man
of the name of Mállem Jémme, or Jýmma, who took the principal
part in the conversation. The history of this man is highly
characteristic, as showing what a large field is open to the ambition
of enterprising Mohammedans in the pagan states to the south.
Threatened with capital punishment by the old sheikh, that is to say,
Mohammed el Amín el Kánemi, on account of his disobedience, this
Shúwa chieftain had fled to the pagans, and had there succeeded in
establishing gradually, by his own energy and mental superiority, a
small principality; but at present, for some reason or other, he had
been expelled and had recourse to the vizier of Bórnu for assistance
to recover his former power. His great knowledge of the country and
the different tribes which inhabited it, made him a welcome guest;
but as for himself, he did not succeed in his ambitious projects. In
reference to my expedition to Ádamáwa, I have already made use of
the authority of this man, in giving an account of the route which
connects the southernmost point on our expedition to Músgu with
the places fixed by me along the river Bénuwé.
 The mállem was not very communicative; and unfortunately I had
no handsome present to make him, or else I might have learned
from him an immense deal with regard to the geography and
character of these countries, which I have no doubt, not long hence,
will become of considerable importance to Europeans. For while
these regions, situated between the rivers Bénuwé and Shári, seem
to be extremely rich and fertile, and capable—on account of the
uniform level of their unbroken plains—of the highest state of
cultivation, they are the most accessible on account of the extensive
water-communication, which, rendered available by the application
of a very small degree of art and industry, will open an easy access
into the heart of Central Africa. Of course, after the rainy season,
when all these countless watercourses, which intersect the country
in every direction, and, without any apparent inclination, inundate
the country, the climate in the plains cannot be very healthy; but
isolated mountains and hills are scattered by the hand of nature
through these luxuriant plains, capable of affording more healthy
localities for settlements.
Owing to the presence of the adventurer just mentioned, the
conversation that evening was very animated, till at length the
courtiers, or “kokanáwa,” withdrew behind the curtains of the vizier’s
tent, in order to take a little refreshment. I then took my leave; but I
had only gone a short distance when I was called back, being
informed that it would no doubt be interesting to me to witness an
audience of Ádishén, the Músgu chief, who was just about to pay his
respects to the commander-in-chief. I therefore returned to the
vizier’s tent, where the courtiers had again taken their post,
according to their rank and station, on each side of their leader.
After a short time the Músgu chief arrived, accompanied by his
three brothers, mounted, as is their custom, upon horses without
saddle or bridle. Great numbers of people had collected in front of
the tent, and saluted him with scoffs and importunities; but the
pagan chief did not allow himself to be put out of countenance by
the insolence of the slaves, but preserved his princely dignity. At
length the curtains of the spacious tent were drawn back, and in
came the native prince. He was of a short stout figure, and rather
mild, but not very prepossessing features, and apparently between
fifty and sixty years of age. He wore a black tobe, but no trousers,
and was bare-headed. Kneeling on the ground, and clapping his
hands, while he repeated the complimentary words, “Alla ngúbberu
degá!” (“God give you long life”), according to the custom of the
“katí gótsin,” he took up sand and sprinkled it upon his head; but as
soon as he had gone through this form of abject submission, he
assumed his character as a native chief. Thus, at once he
complained of his western neighbours, the Fúlbe or Felláta, or, as
the Músgu people call them, Chógchogo; for they, he said, had
anticipated the vizier of Bórnu, carrying off cattle and other things
from his territory. The Bórnu chief assured him that for the future he
should not be exposed to such injustice, but that he was entirely
under the protection of Bórnu. He then made a sign, and some
parcels were opened, and Ádishén was officially installed as a vassal
and officer of Bórnu. First, he was dressed in an elephant-shirt—the
large black shirt from Núfe,—over which a rich silk tobe was thrown,
and over all an Egyptian shawl, while the self-conceited courtiers, in
their proud consciousness of a higher state of civilization, treated
him with contempt and scorn. My cheerful old friend Kashélla Belál,
who had decked him out in this finery, paid him the usual
compliments, exclaiming “Ngúbberu degá maína, ngúbberu degá
maína,” maína being the title of the governor of a province.
Thus this petty pagan chief had become, in an official style, a kind
of officer of Bórnu, and in this manner was alone capable of
preserving his unenviable existence, at what sacrifices we shall soon
see. The Músgu nation is situated so unfavourably, surrounded by
enemies on all sides, that, even if they were linked together by the
strictest unity, they would scarcely be able to preserve their
independence. How, then, should they be able to withstand their
enemies, separated as they are into numerous petty dominions, and
having no further object than to enslave and pillage their neighbours
and kinsmen? Nothing but the number of swampy watercourses
which intersect the country in all directions, and during the greater
part of the year render it impassable for hostile armies, while even
during the remaining part the principal rivers afford natural lines of
defence, behind which the inhabitants may seek refuge, can explain
how the country is so well peopled as it is, although the intervening
tracts have been already laid waste.
Towards the north there are the Kanúri, powerful by their
numerous cavalry and the advantage of firearms; towards the west
and south-west the restless Fúlbe continually advancing; towards the
north-east the people of Logón, originally their near kinsmen, but at
present opposed to them by difference of religion; towards the east,
the wild Bágrimma people, proud of their supposed pre-eminence in
religion, and eager for the profits of the slave-trade. All these people
hunting them down from every quarter, and carrying away yearly
hundreds, nay even thousands of slaves, must in the course of time
exterminate this unfortunate tribe.
To-day was Christmas-day; and my companion and I, in
conformity with a custom of our native town, tried in vain to procure
some fish for a more luxurious entertainment in the evening. The
meat of giraffes, which formed the greatest of our African luxuries,
was not to be obtained; and as for elephant’s flesh, which we were
able to get, although we both liked it, we had too sadly experienced
its bad effect upon the weak state of our bowels to try it again.
Hence, in order to celebrate the evening, we were reduced to coffee
and milk, with which we regaled ourselves. We remained here the
following day, under the pretext that the Fúlbe, who had joined us,
had not yet had an audience; but although the effeminate courtiers
were averse to any great exertion, the bulk of the army, who had
neither pay, nor were allowed to plunder in order to obtain their
necessary supplies, were not very well pleased with this delay, and
caused a great uproar while marching in battle-order before the
tents of their chiefs, and giving vent to their feelings by shaking and
beating their shields. On former expeditions the light troops of the
Shúwa and Kánembú had always been allowed to march some
distance in advance of the army in order to supply their wants; but
on this occasion a strict order had been issued that no one should
go in advance.
In the afternoon Mr. Overweg went to pay a visit to Ádishén at his
residence in Kadé, which was about half-an-hour’s march distant
towards the south. He returned in the evening with a present of a
goat, but did not seem to be greatly pleased with his excursion; and
it could scarcely be otherwise, for while these pagans, who were
obliged to disown all national feeling, could scarcely show
themselves in their true character, and unreserved in their national
manners, in the presence of such an army, it could not but lower us
in the eyes of our companions to have too many dealings with these
pagans, as they were apt to confound us with them. To be regarded
as a “kerdi” my companion cared little about: but I was not much
inclined to be identified as such, and it could certainly reflect no
honour on the character of our mission.
 CHAPTER XLIV.
THE COUNTRY OF THE SHALLOW RIVERS.—
WATER-PARTING BETWEEN THE RIVERS
BÉNUWÉ AND SHARI.

Friday, Dec. 26.—At length we went onward to pursue our march,

turning considerably out of our road towards the east, in order to
avoid the residence of Ádishén, and to prevent its being pillaged.
The army, proceeding in several large detachments, presented an
interesting aspect. Here also green crops of the winter corn, or
“másakwá,” were still standing in the fields. Further on we came to
open pasture-grounds, and after a march of about ten miles we
reached a village called Bógo, where we encamped. All the
inhabitants had made their escape, although their chief, whose
name is Bakshámi, was an ally and friend of Ádishén. The cottages
were well built, but there was a great scarcity of trees. Amongst the
furniture was a fishing-basket, or, as the Kanúri call it, “káyan”; and
some of them were filled with dry paste of the red species of holcus,
which however the people were afraid to touch, lest it might be
poisoned. On a former expedition several people had been poisoned
by a pot of honey which had been left behind, on purpose, by the
natives in their flight. Already on this day’s march we had observed,
in the distance towards the west, an isolated rocky mount; and here
we saw it in more distinct outlines, while beyond, at a greater
distance, the continuous mountain chain of Mándará became slightly
visible.
Saturday Dec. 27.—Our march at first led through a dense forest,
after which we emerged upon more open swampy meadow-lands
covered with rank grass, and full of holes caused by the footprints of
the elephant. Great quantities of Guinea-fowl were caught. Only
here and there an isolated mimosa interrupted the unbroken line of
the savanna. It was after a march of six miles that we obtained a
sight of the first deléb-palm in the Músgu country. Already
repeatedly in the narrative of my travels I have called the attention
of the reader to this beautiful fan-palm; but in all the localities where
I had before observed it, it was rather isolated. Even in Ádamáwa it
is limited to peculiarly favoured localities, while in some extensive
provinces of that country, such as Búban-jídda, it is wanting entirely.
But here we had reached the country where this beautiful and useful
tree, probably only a variety of the famous Borassus flabelliformis, is
the most common and predominant representative of the vegetable
kingdom. The Músgu call it in their language “úray.” From the Músgu
country it seems to spread in an almost uninterrupted and unbroken
line through the southern provinces of Bagírmi and Wadáy, as far as
Kordofán, sending a few scouts and forerunners to adorn the capital
of Bagírmi and the watercourse of the Bat-há.
We chose our encampment in a village called Bárea, consisting of
scattered huts, and surrounded by rich stubble-fields, which were
shaded by large wide-spreading karáge trees, presenting a most
cheerful and comfortable scene. But we soon became aware that the
fertility and beauty of this district were due to the neighbourhood of
a large sheet of water full of crocodiles and river horses or
“ngurútu,” and enlivened even by a few small canoes. It had been
indicated already on our march by the flight of numerous waterfowl
passing over our heads. Beautiful as the country was, however, the
place was deserted, the inhabitants having given up their cheerful
homes, and left the tombs of their worshipped ancestors to the
discretion of the hostile army, in order to seek safety in flight. The
village is the residence of a chieftain of the name of Musíkko, who
acknowledges Kábishmé, the chief mentioned above, as his
sovereign lord.
In the afternoon I received a short visit from a rather shabby sort
of man, the chief of a place called Médebé, but who was an object
of interest to me, as he had been sent as a messenger to the prince
of Mándará, and had just arrived in the encampment from the
capital of that little country. Travelling at a comfortable rate, he had
arrived in three days from Morá, sleeping the first night in the place
called Mókoshi, the second in Fétte, the place above-mentioned, and
from thence to-day had reached this place; but the whole journey, in
an expeditious march, may easily be accomplished in two days.
Difficult as it would be to me to impart to the reader the delight
which I always felt in tracing my routes from one point to another,
and joining two places with which I had become acquainted, by new
itineraries he may forgive me for sometimes troubling him with these
geographical details.

MÚSGU.

Sunday, Dec. 28.—We did not spend our Sunday in a quiet

contemplative manner; but nevertheless we spent it worthily,
employing it in a good day’s march, which opened out to us new and
important features of the character of the new region we had just
entered. It was a pity we were not allowed by circumstances to
proceed in our real character of peaceful travellers, anxious to
befriend all the people with whom we came in contact, instead of
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