Wanderings in North Africa

In Short

James Hamilton’s travel account captures an ambitious, mid-nineteenth-century trek from Malta through Benghazi, across the high plateau of Cyrenaica, and deep into the Libyan Desert toward the isolated oasis of Siwah. Driven by archaeological curiosity and an appetite for forgotten landscapes, Hamilton rides through ancient Greek and Roman ruins, encounters Bedouin tribes, and observes the daily realities of Ottoman provincial rule. The book endures as a vivid historical document: it blends precise field observations of long-shattered antiquities with a dry, unsparing portrait of local trade, slave routes, and tribal politics on the desert frontier.

The Story

Hamilton’s narrative opens in Malta, where he boards a tiny merchant brigantine bound for Benghazi, the rough seat of government for the regency. Resting on deck in a cramped wooden box that shields him from vermin and salt spray, he passes the six-day sea voyage chatting with the ship’s officers, listening to maritime folklore about dog-headed desert men, and noting the cattle and wool trades that bind the coast to Europe.

Upon landing at the shallow, sanded-up harbor of Benghazi, he encounters a low, flat town of mud-brick houses, salt marshes, and endemic disease. Undeterred by the oppressive climate, Hamilton hires a retinue of local guides, gathers horses and supplies, and turns eastward toward the limestone highlands of Cyrenaica. The journey takes him across the rolling slopes of Jebel Fawaid, where thickets of wild juniper, aromatic shrubs, and scattered ancient fortresses break the stony solitude.

Reaching the high mountain plateau, Hamilton arrives at Grennah, the ruined site of ancient Cyrene. Here he spends weeks exploring vast, silent necropolises, rock-hewn sarcophagi, and the shattered columns of temples and basilicas. He inspects the legendary Fountain of Cyre, marvels at the remains of Roman theaters, and picks through classical bas-reliefs, all while managing tense interruptions from suspicious local Bedouin who suspect him of hunting for hidden gold. Continuing past coastal Apollonia and through wooded valleys filled with red-legged partridge, he descends the Okbah pass to the seaside town of Derna, dining with local Ottoman governors and noting the intricate social codes that dictate who may share coffee after meals.

Driven by a desire to see the deep desert, Hamilton turns south into the arid wastes, passing brackish wells and ancient fortified outposts like Henayah. He presses on to the oasis of Augila and the slave-trading hub of Jalo, documenting the grim human commerce driven by native merchants who purchase captives from Fezzan to resell across North Africa.

His journey culminates in a perilous march to the far-flung oasis of Siwah. Lost in the desert after losing his caravan, reduced to gnawing a single sea-biscuit, Hamilton finally reaches the fortress-like mud city. There he finds himself trapped in a tense standoff with hostile local authorities. Navigating local diviners, mesmeric healers, and jealous rival factions, he secures access to the ancient rock-hewn acropolis of Agharmy and the sacred, spring-fed sacrificial wells of the ancient Oracle of Ammon before turning back.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins Hamilton embarks from Malta aboard a 150-ton brigantine, enduring a six-day passage inside a custom wooden deck-box while listening to the captain's wild tales of interior Africa. Arriving at the sandy, low-lying port of Benghazi, he takes stock of the town's mud architecture, rampant disease, and fragile Mediterranean trade.

Into the highlands Leaving the coast with an Arab retinue, Hamilton rides through the scrub-covered slopes of Jebel Fawaid, inspecting isolated stone ruins like Kasr Jbilla. The landscape transitions into lush mountain pastures dotted with stately juniper and ancient cisterns, leading directly to the magnificent ruins of Cyrene.

Among the dead cities Settling near the spring of Grennah, Hamilton spends his days mapping massive cliffside tombs, ruined Roman basilicas, and forgotten theaters. He dodges interference from local tribesmen while exploring the coastal ruins of Apollonia and descending the steep Okbah pass into Derna.

The desert detour Turning inland toward the southern oases, Hamilton crosses desolate salt flats and stony wastes to reach Augila and Jalo. He records the harsh realities of the trans-Saharan slave trade, the heavy consumption of palm wine, and the solitary, rock-cut fortresses that once protected ancient caravan routes.

Standoff at Siwah After a dangerous navigation error leaves him stranded without food in the desert, Hamilton arrives at the high-walled, citadel-like oasis of Siwah. He endures suspicious interrogations by local leaders, outmaneuvers tribal rivalries, and penetrates the ancient acropolis of Agharmy before returning safely to the coast.

The People

• James Hamilton: The sharp-eyed, resilient English traveler. Driven by a passion for classical history and antiquities, he remains coolly analytical in the face of hardship, whether sleeping in mud-floored huts, facing down suspicious desert guards, or surviving on dry biscuits.
• The Kehia (Governor of Derna): A polite Ottoman official who receives Hamilton warmly in his shaded council chamber. He demonstrates the rigid courtly etiquette of the frontier, graciously hosting the traveler for dinner while strictly excluding non-elite Arab guests from the post-meal coffee.
• The Gibely: A local guide and volunteer companion who accompanies Hamilton through the ruins of Siwah. Driven by a firm belief that ancient sites harbor buried treasure, his covert search for pagan hoards unintentionally helps Hamilton gain access to restricted monuments.
• Sheikh Yusuf: A cunning local authority figure in Siwah who balances official Ottoman interests against turbulent tribal factions. He mediates Hamilton's tense stay, navigating local suspicions of foreign intrusion while managing his own young wards.

In Its Own Voice

"In the interior of Africa, beyond the black hills, is a race of people whose men are dogs, their women being like those of other nations."

Context: The ship’s captain gravely repeats this piece of desert folklore to Hamilton while sailing from Malta to Benghazi.

"The façade has, in general, fallen away, leaving the sepulchre, with its bare wall and shapeless entrance, the ghastly spectacle of a fleshless skull."

Context: Hamilton describes the deteriorating condition of the cliff-cut tombs that riddle the valleys around ancient Cyrene.

"'Where’s your hat?' I thought I had misunderstood, and begged he would favour me by repeating his remark."

Context: A local Siwah notable interrogates Hamilton upon his arrival, viewing European headwear as a primary test of religious identity.

What It's Really About

Beneath its record of travel distances and ruined masonry, the book examines the friction between classical antiquity and mid-nineteenth-century neglect. Hamilton views North Africa through the lens of a Victorian gentleman scholar, constantly measuring the fallen, mud-built present against the grand, stone-hewn civic infrastructure of the Greek and Roman past. The narrative delves into the fragile mechanics of Ottoman imperial control over autonomous Bedouin tribes, exposing a venal administration incapable of protecting its citizens or preserving its heritage. It also serves as a quiet indictment of human exploitation, repeatedly detailing the tragic mechanisms of the trans-Saharan slave trade that flourished along the desert trade routes.

Why Read It Today

Wanderings in North Africa offers an immersive, atmospheric ticket to a lost era of Mediterranean exploration. Readers who enjoy classic travel literature will appreciate Hamilton’s dry humor, keen eye for landscape, and refusal to exaggerate his genuine dangers. His prose avoids cheap sensationalism, finding poetry instead in the quiet stillness of forgotten tombs, the cool air of mountain springs, and the stark beauty of desert oases.

The book does present period difficulties: Hamilton writes with the unyielding cultural assumptions of a nineteenth-century European, and his narrative includes unvarnished accounts of the regional slave trade alongside detailed architectural measurements that can slow the pace. Yet these elements ground the work in authentic history. What stays with the reader is the poignant contrast between enduring nature and human vanity—the image of magnificent marble theaters and silent cisterns crumbling slowly beneath the scrub grass of the Libyan hills.