This petition suffered the same fate as his earlier one: the only thing he got out of Bernstorff was money. Baurenfeind was not removed; von Haven did not get permission to dally in Constantinople; and above all, nothing came of his design to arrive in Marseille as leader of the expedition and thereby wipe out his humiliation at Helsingör. He got only the 400 Rigsdaler. In the circumstances the money virtually amounted to a request that he take himself off as quickly as possible.
With the coming of spring he was once more on his way through Germany by stagecoach. This time he stopped off in Paris, and from a letter to Bernstorff we can see to what extent this served him as a consolation prize after the bitter winter in Denmark. As a fastidious man of the world he felt much more at home in Paris than in the cabin under the deck-planks of the Greenland during Captain Fisker’s trial of strength with the Skagerrak, and he stayed there for several weeks. He saw Mademoiselle Clairon in Voltaire’s new tragedy Tancrède; he was received at the home of the famous d’Alembert and discussed a new best-seller, La Nouvelle Heloïse, by that strange man Rousseau; he attended receptions, visited churches, and his only disappointment was an evening at the opera that did not come up to his expectations. Unfortunately he had to spend a few days in Lyons also because the chilly north-west wind blowing in Burgundy had given him a slight chill. But by the end of April he had no more pretexts for delay; in any case, the town had not been particularly exciting. He must move on now. There was nothing for it but to set off for Arabia Felix.
On 7th May von Haven arrived in Marseille, where a week later he met the other members of the Danish expedition, who were glad to have their feet on solid earth once more and, after their shared ordeals, were by now firm allies. He heard about the good relations between Forsskål and Niebuhr; he saw all the drawings already made by the man he wanted removed; but above all he saw how Forsskål had already started on a series of significant experiments and laid the foundation of a comprehensive collection of specimens. He had more reason than ever for feeling an outsider, and it is very probable that he had already made up his mind to take the first opportunity of getting even.
He did not have long to wait. Shortly after their arrival in Marseille, Commander Fisker invited the members of the Danish expedition to a dinner of welcome at his table, and during the meal the conversation turned to politics—a subject into which von Haven also considered he had rather exceptional insight. The recent election of the successor to the Swedish throne was mentioned, the choice having fallen on Adolf Frederik while the Danish Crown Prince had been passed over. In von Haven’s opinion a gross error had been made; and he did not hesitate to brand the man who had made it, the leader of the Swedish “Hat Party,” the distinguished grand seigneur and Lord Marshal of the Swedish Court, Karl Gustav Tessin, as “an infamous person.”
After his long battle over the freedom of the press, Peter Forsskål was not exactly a friend of the “Hat Party,” but he knew the eminent Tessin. Von Haven had gone too far. He replied indignantly that Count Tessin had in all his dealings tried to serve his country to the best of his ability and was a man of admirable character and lofty ideals who should not be spoken of so disparagingly. There was a short silence. And then Forsskål added icily: “He would himself be infamous who used such an expression of Tessin!”
Von Haven accepted Forsskål’s rebuke in silence. But when they had finished dinner he got up, went over to the Swede and asked him if he intended to stand by what he had said. We know enough about the obstinate Forsskål to know that he if anyone would stand by a decision. He had held his own against Stockholm, and saw no reason to give way to a von Haven. He looked at him coldly. Then he repeated what he said before: he would himself be infamous who used such an expression of Tessin.
Now everything crumbled about the outraged von Haven. According to a source we shall return to later and whose reliability we can trust, he angrily faced Forsskål and publicly hurled at him the immortal words: “Go and run up my arse!”
Many years later, when the drama that began with this remark and had long since reached its bitter denouement, Niebuhr wrote to the Danish Ambassador in Constantinople recalling von Haven’s anger in the period following the captain’s fateful dinner party: “Everything went to pieces aboard the warship. Not even their Excellencies von Moltke and Bernstorff were overlooked. Every single member of the expedition received his share of the abuse, with the exception of Herr Kramer, whose abilities von Haven praised from time to time. But he was also furious with himself, and could not forgive himself for having left Copenhagen in such rotten company without having greater authority over it.”
Von Haven’s attempt to assert himself on the first evening aboard the Greenland had thus ended in defeat. He was now more isolated than ever. The only person he still had a little influence over was poor Kramer, his fellow-countryman, who in his simplicity was quite ready to listen to anybody, though there are many indications that the specialist in canary care also had a lot to put up with from the capricious professor. Von Haven divided his fellows into two groups: those he could not stand and therefore did not trust, and those he could stand; these he did not trust either.
So all the members in turn fell victim to his wounded pride. But towards Forsskål—the quiet, assured Swede whom everybody seemed to look up to, who was always right, who at every opportunity demonstrated his indisputable ability, who seemed unaffected by all the inconveniences that drove von Haven to despair and instead showed his boundless energy and stamina, who was quick to display, especially in the presence of others, his obvious superiority, even in Arabic, which was supposed to be von Haven’s speciality—towards Forsskål his seething anger turned into cold hatred. It is not difficult to imagine how Forsskål, who was so jealous of his honour, received von Haven’s insult. After the reply that terminated the captain’s dinner party there was open war between them.
The Greenland, as already mentioned, was being sent to the Mediterranean to escort Danish merchant ships from Marseille to Smyrna and to protect them against the English privateers who, during the colonial war between France and England, were making the seas unsafe. At the end of May three merchant ships were ready to weigh anchor; and on 3rd June the convoy set sail.
After only two days at sea Commander Fisker had occasion to show his courage. It is Carsten Niebuhr who gives the fullest description of the encounter: “During the afternoon of 5th June we caught sight of four ships in the distance and were soon able to recognise them from their flags as English. As Denmark was at peace with England, our warship should strictly speaking not have expected any hostility; but our merchant ships had left a French port and we could not be sure whether the Englishmen would take it into their heads to inspect them closer; so our captain prepared to repel them. All the ship’s guns were made ready, small arms were distributed, and all the beds, even the officers’ and passengers’, were dragged up on deck; in short we were prepared for battle. Towards evening we heard a cannon shot, and this was immediately answered by our captain. The calm weather, however, prevented the Englishmen from coming any nearer the whole day. It was around midnight on the following day before one of Admiral Saunders’s four ships came alongside us. After a short exchange of questions and answers, both parties continued their interrupted journey. On the evening of 7th June we once again saw ten ships in the distance and our own vessel was once more prepared for battle; but during the night the foreign ships disappeared. On the following day the captain of an English warship requested permission to inspect our three merchant ships. When our captain refused, and when he saw that we were ready for battle and prepared to defend ourselves, he too—though he showed great reluctance—had to draw back.”
In the midst of these exciting events another incident occurred which, while it lasted, held Carsten Niebuhr’s attention completely. On 6th June, 1761, the planet Venus appeared in its orbit in front of the sun. In order to observe and measure this rare phenomenon, Niebuhr set up his astrolabe and telescope on d
eck while all the sailors were rushing round getting the ship ready for battle. Unfortunately he had to complain that, despite the calm weather, the shaking of the boat prevented him from taking his readings with the desired accuracy. Nevertheless, there is something very engaging in the picture of the earnest astronomer standing on the foredeck busy with his instruments while the sailors make ready for battle all around him and the English warships lie waiting a little way off on the shining sea. One of the reasons why the world has not yet gone under is perhaps that even at the most dramatic moments there is always somebody who unconcernedly looks the other way. At circles in the sand. At a gable in Delft. So on the ship on which guns are being got ready for their murderous debate, a man is completely absorbed in observing the path of Venus.
Commander Fisker succeeded in repulsing the hostile warships, and a week later the Danish convoy sailed into Malta harbour. Their arrival is described by Forsskål. “We fired a salute of thirteen guns, and were answered with four guns from the galleys and eleven from the town. The siting of the houses, like an amphitheatre, made the view of the town from the harbour very pleasant, and this was also the reason why the cannon shots boomed out so unusually loud.” Forsskål and Niebuhr went ashore immediately and in the six days the Greenland was in harbour they managed to get a great deal done. Both their diaries give long descriptions of the rocky island. Forsskål compiled a Flora Melitensis, which included 87 different plants; he described the big salt-extraction installations on the coast, studied the island’s trade, and discovered how the Maltese brought snow from the mountain tops of Sicily and used it for cooling their drinking water.
Forsskål also gives an account of the town’s monuments, houses and churches, and he dwells on the display of Catholic pomp which he here witnessed for the first time. When he was shown a collection of relics in the Cathedral of St. John, the learned man’s scepticism was aroused: “Among other things, they were exhibiting a thorn from Jesus’ crown of thorns, which according to Hasselquist was made from Rhamnus spinosa (Passion Thorn), but I could not with my botanist’s eye allow the thorn on display to be more than a bit of bone, pointed, white and completely straight.”
While they were out on their excursions, Niebuhr made numerous measurements of the longitude and latitude of the island, on the basis of which its position on the map had later to be altered. This was the first though not the last time the young surveyor from the marshlands was to wander around islands and coastal districts. It is also noticeable how in Forsskål’s company he became infected by the latter’s scepticism. When they inspected the grotto on the island where St. Paul is supposed to have sought refuge after being shipwrecked, they discovered in the dazzling white chalk the small so-called “snakes’ eyes” which are regarded by the locals as proof that St. Paul drove the snakes from the island. Niebuhr dryly commented that perhaps snakes simply could not live on that stony ground: “Doubtless one could find other small islands where no saint had ever been, and where nevertheless there were still no snakes.”
Shortly after leaving Malta, Niebuhr was struck down with a severe attack of dysentery. The other members of the expedition who had already seen several members of the crew succumb to illness began to fear for their young astronomer; and he himself now wrote in his diary: “I have given up all hope of ever seeing Constantinople, let alone Arabia.” When they reached the Greek Archipelago, it was high summer. The thermometer registered 79°F. when Forsskål read it each evening; the heat was a great discomfort to the sick man, who had to console himself with the thought that the fever had at least attacked him while still among Europeans.
When on 30th July they reached Smyrna, Forsskål had to go without the companion of his Malta excursions. “I scarcely have the strength to support myself long enough at the window of our cabin to be able to see this famous mercantile port,” Niebuhr now wrote in his diary. His bitterness is understandable. During their stay in Smyrna the rest of the expedition got their first impression of the Orient: the shady balconies on to the street where people reclined watching the passers-by; the men and women who flocked to the markets to buy gumbo fruits and the powder of Abraham trees, the men in turbans and white coats, the women with veils over their faces—white for the unmarried, black for the married, as if they had become widows with the passing of their youth.
In Smyrna, Forsskål discovered a bird he had never seen described before. He called it Turdus seleucus. The local people told him that the Koran forbade the killing of this bird because it was capable of eating over 10,000 grasshoppers a day. Forsskål’s discovery was a bird now called Pastor roseus or rose-starling. It is indeed a kind of starling—black on the head, throat, wings and tail, while its back and underside are rose-red, and it has a little tuft of feathers on its neck. It is not true that the rose-starling is mentioned in the Koran; but even to-day it is often seen in the Orient where it is a great favourite because it is so good at catching grasshoppers. They often stood and watched Forsskål’s busy little bird as it tore apart the insects, often without even eating them afterwards. But nobody actually counted to see if it could really manage 10,000 a day. There was so much they did not manage to get done at the time. And now one never sees a rose-starling any more.
5
On 10th July the Greenland left Smyrna and sailed farther north to the island of Tenedos, now called Bozcada, where the members of the expedition said farewell to Commander Fisker and left the Danish man-o’-war which for more than six months had been their home. This little bit of Denmark had accompanied them right to the door; on Tenedos they stood on the threshold between Europe and the Orient. From there they were to sail on to Constantinople by a small Turkish boat. Niebuhr was now so weak that he had to be carried aboard the foreign ship. His diary notes in these weeks are extremely summary. Between his bouts of fever he inspected the distinguished-looking Turks on the new ship and found “their language, their dress and their entire demeanour so strange that I did not hold out any great hope of finding much further pleasure in these Eastern lands.” It was not the fault of the Turks, it was just that at that particular time poor Niebuhr was suffering very much from his stomach.
The trip through the Dardanelles and the Sea of Marmora was made in slow stages because the over-rigged Turkish boat could only sail when there was not too strong a wind. Forsskål managed to go ashore practically every day for a few hours on botanical excursions among the fields of maize and cotton along this coast. It was not until 30th July that the expedition arrived in Constantinople, where the members stayed with the Danish Ambassador, von Gähler, one of Bernstorff’s very able young diplomats who from now on acted as intermediary between the travellers and the Government in Copenhagen.
Awaiting the members of the expedition at von Gähler’s home was a large post, with letters from practically every university in Europe asking the travellers to investigate every conceivable problem, from whether a circumcised man experiences greater pleasure in sexual intercourse than an uncircumcised to how far the rainless Arabian deserts should be regarded as the beginning of a drying-out process which would gradually spread over the whole earth.
Among the letters was also an answer from Bernstorff to Forsskål’s petition sent from Marseille, from which emerged that the king gladly gave his permission to the expedition’s proposed distribution of seed to the larger European universities. At last Forsskål was in a position to please his idolised Linnaeus. On the other hand he was to be allowed to return home via South Africa only on condition that one of the Danish members of the expedition volunteered to accompany him. Bernstorff obviously wished to keep some control over this Swede, who wanted to travel all over the world at the Danish Government’s expense. As the only possible Dane—because of the explosive situation between Forsskål and von Haven—would be the ineffectual Kramer, Forsskål did not for the moment see much chance of realising his and Linnaeus’s joint plan; but, as usual, he immediately sent off a renewed application for what the Government had just refused.
The permission to send seed to Uppsala, however, had further stimulated this tireless botanist. During the stay in Constantinople, which because of Niebuhr’s condition had to be extended from week to week, Forsskål was constantly on the go. He was not content with visiting all the main gardens in the town itself; he made long expeditions up-country, visited a large number of towns along the coast of the Sea of Marmora and along the straits up to the Black Sea; he made friends with some Turkish fishermen and sailed with them out in the Straits to note their catches of fish and shell-fish and to study the local marine plants. He studied the soil in various localities, collected and dispatched seed, investigated the town’s water supply system, which had been built by the Emperor Justinian, and compiled a list of dye-stuffs sold by the Jews in the town’s market place, including bakam-brown, indigo-blue, saragatch-yellow, and cramoisy-red.
While these investigations were going on, the exhausted Niebuhr had received treatment in the quiet of the Ambassador’s home. There his condition slowly improved, and a month after their arrival in Constantinople he was able to start walking around the town a little. He discussed the expedition’s finances with von Gähler, who helped him to obtain drafts on the rich merchants in Cairo and provided him with letters of introduction to influential people in Egypt and Arabia.
Arabia Felix Page 8
