While the results of the Arabian journey were being discussed in universities all over Europe, the clerk to the council lived his quiet, unchanging provincial life. He got work going on the dykes; collected taxes; talked to the parson, borrowed books from the sheriff. He sent occasional articles to historical periodicals. He watched his children growing up. His son tells how his father taught them geography and English, and how not infrequently he spun out their bedtime hour with tales from Arabia, stories about the caliphs, and about the life of Mohammed. Standing in his drawing-room was the chest containing all his instruments and papers from the expedition—the family called it the “Ark of the Covenant”—and on very special occasions he sometimes brought out the old note-books and told them the story of his visit to the Imam in Sana.
With the years, he had gradually given up all thought of publishing the last volume of his diary, and in 1795 he suffered a great loss which forced him to abandon all his plans. All the expensive copperplates for his books, including those for the third volume, which he had mostly had executed by Clemens himself, were destroyed in the burning of Copenhagen. One consolation, however, was that his geographical measurements had now won recognition from the most distinguished contemporary authorities. De Sacy, who was working on a translation of the history of the Turkish conquest of the Yemen, informed him that he had been able to find all the book’s place names on Niebuhr’s map. Shortly afterwards the famous geographer Zach examined the longitude calculations that Niebuhr had made according to Mayer’s system, approved them without exception, and used them as the basis for an extensive revision of the map of the Eastern Mediterranean.
While this was going on, Niebuhr was drawing ever closer to his own origins. At the age of sixty-six he decided to use some of his capital to buy a bit of marshland. He dug drainage ditches and tried cultivating the land. It did not produce any great economic rewards, but he was a farmer again and working close to the soil gave him fresh vitality; for some years yet the old man could be seen hopping over ditches with the help of a jumping-pole such as he had used when a lad.
But this was only a brief respite. Hitherto, death had struck all round him; now it started to reach after him in earnest. Ever since Persepolis, he had had to take care to keep his eyes shaded if he wanted to avoid a frequent recurrence of the pain. Then, out on the marshes one summer day he carelessly took a solar observation when he had left the instrument’s smoked lens at home, and trouble started. At the time he was making a new land survey of the district. Now every evening he had to have a stronger and stronger light to be able to see his own lines on the map. Soon it made no difference how many lamps were brought in. The lines all ran together; he had to put his mapping pen aside. The story continues like the one about the Kurdish farmer. Lampblack was spread over the observer’s eyes. Carsten Niebuhr went blind.
At about this time death made another conquest; he lost his wife. The raw marsh climate had never really suited the delicate Christiane Sophie; it gave her asthma, and in 1807 she died at the age of sixty-five. His daughter had to take over the housekeeping, while helping Niebuhr by reading documents aloud to him and making up the accounts from his dictation. As the work gradually became too much, they appointed an assistant—a young geographer called Gloyer, who was an admirer of Niebuhr’s work. He had written a short monograph on India, and he it was who in 1837, many years after Niebuhr’s death, eventually had the good fortune to publish the third volume of the diary.
Collaborating with Gloyer was a great joy to Niebuhr. Here is his son’s picture of him at this time:
“In spite of his having been blind for some time, he kept a firm grip on all the many threads of his official job. During the daily conversations with Gloyer, many memories of the Orient were awakened afresh. From Gloyer also he heard extracts or accounts of new voyages; and this was incomparably the greatest joy of his life. When in my letters to him I passed on reports from people who had returned from the East, it stirred him to the very depths, and he dictated long letters in reply, filled with interested questions.”
Over the years he had developed a weakness in his hip, which made him a little unsteady on his feet. One day he fell so awkwardly that he broke his thigh-bone, with the consequence that he was lame in one leg. So much must Death take from him before it could bring him low. All through his life it had pursued him in various guises; it had reaped its harvest all round him, down to his own wife; and before it could vanquish him it was to bring him lower still. The last picture we have of this man, who had travelled over half the world and observed the stars in the heavens and the cities upon the earth, is of a blind man in a wheel-chair. His son writes:
“A large family circle had collected around him, and even on the not infrequent occasions when he did not feel well, he was in spite of changed circumstances hearty, cheerful and always ready to talk. And so we often managed to get him to tell us long tales about his travels, which he always told with a wealth of vivid detail. On one such occasion, he talked at some length and in some detail about Persepolis, describing the various walls with their inscriptions and reliefs as though he were talking about a building he had seen only a few days before and now wished to describe to the rest of us. We could not conceal our amazement. And then he told us that when he lay blind on his bed, all the pictures of the Orient appeared quite clearly to his inner eye; so there was nothing remarkable about his being able to talk about them as if they were something he had seen the day before. Similarly, the vast dome of the Asian night sky with its myriads of stars extended above him as he lay quite still; and this was his greatest delight.”
All visions return. Lying there blind and lame in his bed, the old man traversed again the long road to Sana and to Persepolis. But now the great distances did not bother him; weariness was lifted from his limbs; thirst no longer burned upon his lips; and across his face with its dimmed eyes, Orion continued undisturbed on his path of eternal vigilance. These were his last visions; now all the lines of his life converged. When on 26th April, 1815, at the age of eighty-two, he died peacefully and without a struggle, it was in Meldorf, Dithmarschen; and yet also, like all his colleagues, he died simultaneously at some unknown place in a foreign land.
What is the name of this land that Carsten Niebuhr finally reached? Where is it on the map? Where are its boundaries?
His son concludes his brief biography with a brief character sketch of his father. He mentions his simple, unpretentious peasant nature, his resoluteness, and his austere way of life. He then continues: “Father was wholly and completely intent on observing and scrutinising the world around him. Abstractions and speculations were alien to his very nature: he always had to formulate everything in concrete terms. In judging a book or an article he was extremely strict about whether the contents were true or not; the simpler the style, the more it pleased him. Poetry meant nothing to him with the exception of Homer in Voss’s translation, of Hermann und Dorothea, and of a few simple songs. He was fond of Fielding’s and Smollett’s novels; others he had not read. Architecture interested him. Sculpture he was indifferent to. Music he loved. He lived to observe and interpret things around him.”
“Zum Sehen geboren, zum Schauen bestellt,” as it says of Man in Faust—Man, whose fate it is finally to have lampblack over his eyes. His son also relates how, in the sunny summer days in Meldorf, Niebuhr would often take his old astrolabe out of the chest and wander off over the marshes, sometimes for days at a time. This bit of information is corroborated by the astronomical tables he left behind, which contain a series of observations from Meldorf and the surrounding district. On these tours he would visit friends in other towns; and there is a story that once, when he was staying in a town he did not know, he got up at daybreak and after wandering about the streets for three hours was able to describe every house so accurately that his hosts could tell him who owned it simply on the basis of his description.
To those who have followed him day by day on his almost seven-year-long
journey this anecdote is hardly remarkable. He lived in precisely the same way then. There were no doubt times when he found it dull being a clerk in Meldorf; but on those trips into the flat marshlands he must have recaptured some of the old joy of the desert freedom, of his spring sorties in Tehama, of his ride through the plains of Mesopotamia. When he gazed out over the marshes he was met here too by an uninterrupted datum line, the true horizon, which he had had need of on those innumerable occasions in foreign lands when he had set up his astrolabe to determine the altitude of the sun. In most places on land, the irregularities of the earth’s surface make it impossible for all practical purposes to see the true horizon. It is to be seen at sea and in the desert, and also in the flat marshy districts of Denmark where one is also circumscribed by this clean distant line where earth and heaven meet, a tremendous circle of silence at whose centre one continually finds oneself, no matter how far or in what direction one goes.
This circle, which formed the basis for almost all Niebuhr’s measurements, also enclosed all the basic concepts of his universe: light and matter, the stars and the earth, his firm belief in reality. It is called “the circle of vision,” and further than that he had no wish to see. When he had overstepped it, things had gone badly for him; but within its confines the dome of heaven lay about him as though he stood enclosed in a drop of eternity. This circle was like a magic ring drawn round him for his protection. Within it he was invulnerable and in his native land. It encircled him when he tended the cows in the fields near Altenbruch. In the desert he found it again, every bit as large and clear. In his old age it lay about him once more. And when at last he lay lame and blind in his bed, it was not so dark that he could no longer see the stars rise one by one above the same great circle. In this land Carsten Niebuhr took his departure. Perhaps here at last was Arabia Felix.
Sources
1
carsten niebuhr, Beschreibung von Arabien (Description of Arabia), Copenhagen, 1772.
carsten niebuhr, Reisebeschreibung nach Arabien und andern umliegenden Ländern (Description of a journey to Arabia and other contiguous countries). Vol. 1, Copenhagen 1774. Vol. 2, Copenhagen, 1778. Vol. 3, edited by Gloyer and Oldhausen, Hamburg 1837.
peter forsskål, Tanker om borgerliga friheten (Thoughts on civil liberty), Stockholm, 1792.
peter forsskål, Flora ægyptiaco-arabica, edited by Carsten Niebuhr, Copenhagen, 1775.
peter forsskål and g. w. baurenfeind, Icones rerum naturalium, edited by Carsten Niebuhr, Copenhagen, 1775.
peter forsskål, Resa till Lycklige Arabien. Dagbok 1761-63 (Journey to Arabia Felix. Diary 1761-63), Uppsala, 1950.
johann david michaelis, Literarischer Briefwechsel (Correspondence), part ii, edited by Joh. Gottlieb Buhle, Leipzig, 1795; including correspondence between Bernstorff and Michaelis, twelve letters from von Haven to Bernstorff, and von Haven’s Tagebuch über eine Reise von Suez nach dem Djebel el-Mokateb getan vom 6ten bis 25sten September 1762 (Diary of a journey from Suez to Djebel el-Mokateb between 6th and 25th September 1762).
aage friis, Bernstorffske Papierer, I, Copenhagen, 1904.
Various contemporary newspapers and periodicals.
Also unpublished letters, financial accounts, reports, diaries and other documents in the Danish State Archives: German Chancellery’s foreign section; General section; Realia Litra, A. 1756-68, Arabian journey. Three packages.
2
b. g. niebuhr. Carsten Niebuhrs Leben (Carsten Niebuhr’s life), Kieler Blätter 111, 1816, pp. 1-86.
carl christensen, Naturforskeren Pehr Forsskål (Peter Forsskål the naturalist), Copenhagen, 1918.
henrik schück, Fran Linnés tid. Petter Forsskål (From the age of Linnaeus: Peter Forsskål), Stockholm, 1923.
leo swane, I. F. Clemens, Copenhagen, 1929: containing a short account of G. W. Baurenfeind.
Dansk Biografisk Leksikon. (Danish Biographical Dictionary.)
fr. buhl, Hist. Arkiv (Historical Archives, new series), xi, 1884, p. 423.
d. g. hogarth, The Penetration of Arabia, 1905.
e. glaser, Reise nach Marib (Journey to Marib), 1913, pp. 129f.
sir robert l. playfair, History of Arabia Felix or Yemen, 1859.
w. b. harris, A Journey Through the Yemen, 1893.
Index
The links below refer to the page references of the printed edition of this book. While the numbers do not correspond to the page numbers or locations on an electronic reading device, they are retained as they can convey useful information regarding the position and amount of space devoted to an indexed entry. Because the size of a page varies in reflowable documents such as this e-book, it may be necessary to scroll down to find the referenced entry after following a link.
Abb, 266
Abdullah, Niebuhr as, 328ff.
Aboukir, 97
Abraham, 340
Acca, 344
Adam’s grave, 204
Adolf Frederik, King of Sweden, 72
Adrianople, 349
Ahmed Fakih, 262, 287, 288, 290
Aleppo, 329, 332, 336, 339, 340f, 343, 346
Alexander the Great, 56, 212, 213, 315, 331
Alexandretta, 343
Alexandria, 81, 82, 90, 93, 102f, 282; Patriarch of, 120
Altenbruch, 352f, 360
Altun Keupri, 332
amulets, 319
Antioch, 165, 343
Anville, J. B. B. d’, 310
Arabia, history of, 122
Arabia Felix: life in, 214, 225; the name, 57, 300f; products of, 214; see also Yemen
Arbela, 331
Archipelago, Greek, 77, 83
arsenic, von Haven’s purchase of, 82, 84ff, 96, 100, 132ff, 144
Ascanius, P., 37, 42, 277, 278, 279
astrolabe, Niebuhr’s, 36, 58, 95, 96, 108, 114, 169, 202f., 209, 216, 227, 309, 329, 353, 366
Athanasio, Angeli d’, 120
Augsburg, 48
Ayum Musa, 166
Babylon, 331
Baghdad, 329f, 331ff
Bahrein, 310
Bairam, festival of, 319, 333
balsam tree, 93, 237, 258
Banyans, 219
Barken, 266, 267
Basra, 304, 308, 325ff.
Baurenfeind, Georg Wilhelm; early career and selection for expedition, 37f., 55; von Gähler on, 136; letter to von Gähler, 145; fever, 159ff., 194f., 292, 297; death, 298; publication of work, 359f.; other references, 14, 56, 67, 68, 70, 83f., 88, 96, 97, 99, 125, 150, 160, 198, 204, 220, 231, 256, 260, 267, 269f., 272, 274, 281, 284f., et passim
Beckmann, 283
Bedouins, 112f.
Beilan, 343
Beit el-Fakih, 213, 224, 226ff., 241ff., 294, 295
Berggren, 53, 56, 153, 222f, 246, 260, 265, 267, 268, 269f., 286, 287, 292, 297, 298; death, 299
Bernstorff, J. H. E.; and preparation for expedition, 16ff., 34; and Niebuhr, 36f.; and Forsskål, 43f., 79; and von Haven, 45ff., 186; Gähler’s report to, 131ff.; letter to Gähler, 186f.; letter to von Haven, 187ff.; other references, 15, 68, 71, 100f., 117, 125, 128, 166, 278, 280, 299, 320, 327, 328, 342, 353f., 356, et passim
Bethlehem, 344
Bezoardin, 99, 119
Birk, 102
blood vengeance, Arab, 219
Blumenberg, Christiane S. (Frau Niebuhr), 359
Bölzing, 18
Bombay, 275, 276, 300, 303, 305, 306f.
Bozcada, 78
bread, Arab, 207ff.
Breslau, 352
Brünnich, 277ff.
Brusa, 347f.
Bucharest, 349f.
Bulgose, 231
Burgundy, 71
Burman, J., 276, 279
Bushire, 310, 312, 313, 324f.
Caid Bey, 102, 283
Cairo, 80, 97, 98ff., 104ff., 150
Calcutta, 275, 303
caravan: Mecca, 103, 153f., 158, 196; Sudan, 103f.
caravanbashi, 337
Ceylon, 204
Champollion, J., 118
Chardin, J., 315, 322
Charles XII of Sweden, 27
China, 275, 306
Christensen, Carl, 279, 280f., 281, 283
Christian VI, 94
Christian VII, 354f.
Christopher of Macedonia, 178
circumcision, 106ff.
Citium, 343
Clairon, Mlle, 71
Clemens, 37, 362
Clément, 98, 99
“Clogher of Clocester”, Bishop, 174
Codex Sinaiticus, 180
compass, 198
Constantinople, 49, 70, 78ff., 83, 275, 342, 347
Cramer, Peter, 70
cuneiform, see inscriptions
Cyprus, 342
d’Alembert, Jean, 71
Damar, 285, 290
Damascus, 332, 344f.
Damietta, 108, 110
dancing girls, 148ff.
Danube, 349
Dardanelles, 78, 83
Darius I, 324
della Valle, Pietro, 315, 322
Dgirr, 163
Dháfar, 285
dhows, construction, 165
Diarbekr, 339
Dimne, 229
directions, for expedition, 53ff.
Dithmarschen, 360ff.
Djebel el-Mokateb, 123, 124, 159ff., 170ff., 195, 255, 342
Djebel Musa, 177
djellabe, 103
Djidda, 49, 147, 165, 193, 196, 202ff., 243, 297
Djobla, 236
Dniester, 351
Donati, 124
Dresden, 352
dress: of members of expedition, 80, 93; Niebuhr’s 109, 312, 328, 347
dromedaries, 156, 178
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