whiteness of a burnous." An Arab chief, like our captains in the olden
times, should be more valiant than all his men at arms. He must
distinguish himself by warlike feats as much as by his bearing at
fantasias. His influence would be for ever lost if he were suspected of
faintness of heart. But it is the reality, not the appearance, which the
Arabs appreciate. What they admire is a spirit nobly tempered, and not
the frame of a mere giant, or athlete. This is the place to combat the
widely spread prejudice that a lofty stature and bodily strength make a
deep impression upon them. Such is far from being the case. They take
pleasure in man's being robust, patient of thirst and hunger, and
capable of enduring severe fatigue; but they care very little for
tallness of stature, or for muscular force like that of our porters, or
showman's Hercules. They reserve their esteem for activity, address, and
courage. It little matters to them whether a man be tall or short; and
not unfrequently, while looking at some Colossus whose huge proportions
are being vaunted in their presence, they may be heard to murmur
sententiously: "What to us is the stature or strength! Let us see the
heart. After all, it may be only the skin of a lion on the back of a
cow."
But notwithstanding this admiration of valour, there is no point of
honour among the Arabs such as prevails among ourselves. In their eyes
there is no cowardice in retreating before superior numbers, or even in
fleeing before an enemy of inferior strength, if there is nothing to be
gained by fighting. They often laugh among themselves at our chivalrous
scruples. Fond as they are of riding at furious speed, and of the noisy
discourse of fire-arms, they nevertheless desire to have some object of
public utility as their motive for battle. Full of ardour so long as
Fortune leads them on, they disperse and disappear as soon as she
betrays them. In forming, therefore, their judgment of acts of bravery,
there are many essential points of difference between them and
ourselves. Their respect for courage never urges them to excessive
severity towards those who are deficient in that quality. A coward will
never rise to any post of dignity in his tribe, but neither will he be
an object of contempt. They will merely say of him, with that absence of
anger which usually accompanies fatalism: "It was not the will of Allah
that he should be brave. He is to be pitied rather than blamed." A man
of faint heart is expected, however, to redeem his shortcomings by the
prudence of his counsels, and above all by an unfailing generosity.
Braggadocio is treated with greater contempt than cowardice. "If thou
sayest that the lion is an ass, go and put a halter on him," is an
oriental proverb in very general use. In spite of the heat of their
blood and the hyperbolical character of their speech, the Arabs demand
from true courage that dignified silence which they regard so highly. In
this respect they have nothing in common with the nations with whom they
fought in the time of the Cid; nor yet under the head of single combats,
which are entirely unknown among them. A tradition, which probably dates
from the crusades, asserts that in the olden time illustrious chiefs met
each other in single combat, but the oldest members of the tribes of the
present day have no personal recollection of anything of the kind. If a
man deems himself seriously affronted, he avenges himself by
assassination. There are individuals with easy consciences and
complacent dispositions who, for a very moderate sum, will rid you of an
enemy. But if the aggrieved happens to be more sparing of his gold than
of his life—his hand being more ready to strike than his purse to
open—he watches his opportunity to fall upon the man who has wronged
him. He kills him, or is killed by him. In the former case it is a
common thing to bequeath to another the debt of blood; for, in the
absence of duelling, private revenge is in a very flourishing condition
among the Arabs, and descends from generation to generation. Among them
still prevail those family feuds which formerly dyed red the pavements
of Italian cities, and which even in the present day stain the soil of
an island of France.
The ordinary causes of the Arab _vendetta_ are disputes as to wells,
pasturage and landmarks, the rape of a young wife or daughter, the
murder of a jealous husband, of a successful rival, or of a woman who
has refused compliance,—or rivalries of chiefs, whose quarrel is
espoused, first of all, by their relations, friends, and clients, then
by the whole tribe, and at last by the tribes in alliance with them. As
a natural consequence of the absence of the duello, private disputes are
settled by assassination, and the feud, being transmitted from kin to
kin and constantly provided with new fuel, goes on to eternity. The
_vendetta_ is either of a private or public nature, according as the
injury to be avenged affects an individual or a tribe. If from any cause
a man happen to lose his life through the act of a chief, or even of a
humble member of a neighbouring tribe, the homicide can arrange the
affair legally by paying the _dya_, or blood money, to the heirs of the
deceased. The _dya_ is the same as the _Wehrgeld_ of the Germans, with
this difference—that not only is it legal, but from its first
institution it assumed a religious character. According to the _tolbas_,
it may be traced back to Abd-el-Mettaleb, the grandfather of Mohammed,
and was indirectly the cause of the birth of the Prophet.
Abd-el-Mettaleb, chief of the tribe of the Koreishites, had no children,
and in his despair he offered up the following prayer to Allah: "Lord,
if thou wilt bestow upon me ten sons, I swear to sacrifice one of them
unto thee as a thanksgiving offering." Allah heard his prayer and made
him ten times a father. Faithful to his vow, Abd-el-Mettaleb left it to
the drawing of lots to decide who should be the victim. The lot fell
upon Abd-Allah; but, the tribe opposing this sacrifice, it was resolved
by the chiefs that, instead of Abd-Allah, ten camels should be set aside
as a stake and recourse again had to lots until they turned up in favour
of the lad, ten camels being added to the first for every time the lots
had been unfavourable. It was not until the eleventh trial that
Abd-Allah was redeemed, and one hundred camels were sacrificed in his
place. Some time afterwards Allah manifested His satisfaction with this
exchange, for He caused Mohammed his Prophet to be born to Abd-Allah;
and ever since then the price of an Arab's life has been fixed at one
hundred camels. Circumstances, however, sometimes occur to reduce this
high standard.
There is scarcely an instance on record of a homicide who has paid the
_dya_ being otherwise proceeded against, or of the parents or the
children of the deceased hesitating to accept this satisfaction. But if
he be too poor to pay it, or if the Government has thought fit to
interfere in the matter, he is condemned to suffer like for like, an eye
for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life. When I was consul
for France at Mascara, in 1837, accredited to Abd-el-Kader, I had an
opportunity of witnessing the application of the _lex talionis_ in its
utmost rigour. Two children having quarrelled in the street, their
fathers interposed, and from insults proceeded to threats, until one of
them, gradually becoming infuriated, drew his knife and stabbed his
adversary, who fell down dead upon the spot. The latter received five
wounds; one on his right, a second on his left, breast, two in the
stomach, and the fifth in the back. A mob collected, and the _shaoushs_,
or police agents seized the murderer and led him before the _hakem_, or
mayor of the town. The _aoulemas_, or doctors of the law, immediately
assembled, and constituted themselves a tribunal. In less than half an
hour the witnesses were heard, and the culprit was sentenced to undergo
the full penalty of the _lex talionis_ at the hands of his victim's
brother. At a signal given by the Cadi, two _shaoushs_ bound his wrists
together with a rope, and, placing themselves on either side of him,
conducted him, preceded by the executioner, to the market-place,
thronged at the time by two or three thousand Arabs. However horrible
might be the singular drama about to be acted, it furnished me with an
opportunity for a rare experience, and I succeeded in overcoming the
instinctive repugnance, which I at first felt, to being present. By the
time I reached the spot, the _shaoushs_, by dint of freely plying their
sticks, had forced back the crowd to the circumference of a spacious
circle, the centre of which was occupied by the executioner and his
victim, the one with his knife in his hand, the other calm and
indifferent to what was about to happen. According to the sentence, the
murderer was to receive as many stabs as he had inflicted, and in the
same order and in the same parts of the body as the man he had murdered.
When all was ready,—and the preparations were merely what I have
described,—a _shaoush_ raised his staff, by way of signal. The Arab with
the knife immediately rushed on his victim, and stabbed him first on the
right and then on the left breast, but evidently without touching the
heart, for the poor wretch cried aloud: "Strike! Strike! But think not
that it is thou who takest my life. Allah alone takes away life." The
punishment, however, was continued with horrible fury, and the criminal,
whose entrails protruded from two fresh wounds he received in the belly,
never ceased to revile his executioner. There still remained one other
blow to give. The wounded man turned round of himself, and the blade of
the knife disappeared entirely in his loins. He staggered, but did not
fall. "Enough! Enough!" cried the mob. "He gave only five blows, and he
ought not to receive more." The execution was over, and the unfortunate
man who underwent all this torture had still sufficient strength to
return to his own house on foot. M. Warnier, physician to the consulate,
arrived there almost at the same instant as himself, and while he was
endeavouring to sew together the gaping mouths of the two wounds in the
belly, the patient kept crying aloud: "Oh! I pray you, heal me! They say
thou art a great physician; prove it, heal me, so that I may kill that
dog!" It was all in vain, for that night he died.
But if the murderer be the master of a great tent, and sufficiently
influential to induce the tribe to exercise forbearance towards him, and
therefore refuses to pay any blood money, he will sooner or later
expiate that refusal with his life, which the _vendetta_ will overtake
though justice lag behind. From his death, however, will arise a deadly
feud, as I have already shown. I could give many instances of the
_vendetta_; and the one that follows, being equally illustrative of the
customs of a powerful Saharene tribe, the Shamba, and of those of a
people of the Great Desert, the Touareg, separated from one another by
at least two hundred leagues, will afford a just notion of those
obstinate hatreds, of that thirst for vengeance which always embody
themselves in the same acts of violence. A band of the Shamba, commanded
by Ben-Mansour, chief of Ouargla, surprised, near the Djebel-Baten, some
Touaregs who were watering their camels in the Oued-Mia, under the
leadership of Kheddash, chief of the Djebel-Hoggar. An implacable
hatred, the origin of which is unknown, divides the Shamba from the
Touaregs—the latter, besides, being in a state of perpetual vendetta
against the Saharenes, either because they are Berbers and not Arabs, or
because they levy a tax on the caravans to and from Soudan. A bloody
conflict ensued, and the Touaregs were put to the rout, leaving ten of
their party dead upon the ground, and among them their chief, whose
headless body they found some days afterwards. Ben-Mansour had carried
off his head, which he exposed, as a trophy of his victory, over one of
the gates of Ouargla. The tidings spread mourning throughout the
Djebel-Hoggar, and an oath was taken: "May my tent be destroyed if
Kheddash be not avenged!" Kheddash left behind him a widow of great
beauty named Fetoum, and one young child. According to usage, Fetoum was
entitled to rule, assisted by the Council of Nobles, until such time as
her son should be of age to assume the leadership. One day, therefore,
when the leading men were assembled in her tent, she said to them: "My
brethren, whichever of you will bring me Ben-Mansour's head shall have
me for wife." That same evening all the young men of the mountain armed
themselves for war, and went to her, saying: "To-morrow we will set out
with our servants to seek thy wedding present." And at the dawn of day
three hundred Touaregs, commanded by Ould-Biska, a cousin of Kheddash,
set out on their march to the northward. Hardly had they taken up their
position at their first halt, when they beheld coming up behind them
half a score of camels with riders, and among them one fleeter of foot
and more richly accoutred than the others. They at once recognized the
camel of Fetoum, for Fetoum had come in person to join their little
army. She was greeted with loud acclamations, for it seemed to them, and
perhaps with reason, that she had come expressly to be able more
promptly to fulfil her promise. It was the month of May, when water is
to be found in every ravine, and the sands are clothed with herbage.
During the halt on the eighth day, the scouts came in with the news that
a strong body of the Shamba, commanded by Ben-Mansour, were driving
their flocks towards the grazing grounds of the Oued-Nessa. The Shamba,
however, having received intelligence of the approach of the Touaregs,
had turned suddenly towards the north and had already gained the
Oued-Mzab. But their retreat was speedily discovered, and by a forced
march of a day and a night, the Touaregs placed themselves in ambush in
ravines and brushwood at a distance of only a few leagues from the
enemy, who had now no suspicion of their presence. All that day they
rested, and when night came they again took to the plain, putting their
camels to a long swinging trot. At length about midnight the barking of
the dogs betrayed the _douar_ of which they were in search. The next
moment, on a signal given by Ould-Biska, they dashed forward uttering
their war-cry. Of the Shamba, at the most not more than five or six
escaped, and one even of these was wounded by Ould-Biska who, with a
thrust of his long spear, struck him in the loin. Run away with by his
mare, the ill-fated horseman, rolling from side to side but still
keeping his seat, went on a few steps, but presently he sank forward and
fell over on to the sand, dragging down with him in his fall a child
seven or eight years of age whom he had till then kept concealed in his
burnous. "Ben-Mansour! Ben-Mansour! knowest thou Ben-Mansour?" demanded
Ould-Biska. "He was my father—behold him!" replied the boy, calm and
erect beside the dead body. At that moment, Fetoum came up, followed,
surrounded, and closely hemmed in by a group of the Touaregs. "It is I
who have slain him!" cried Ould-Biska. "And it shall be done as I said,"
answered Fetoum; "but take thy poniard, open the body of the accursed,
tear out his heart, and throw it to the dogs."
While Ould-Biska, kneeling on the ground and stooping over the corpse,
proceeded to execute this order, Fetoum, her lips compressed and her
whole frame trembling with nervous excitement, gloated over the shocking
spectacle. And when at last the _slougui_ had finished their horrible
repast, her revenge being now complete, Fetoum remounted her _mahari_
and gave the signal for retreat, without taking any heed of the booty
her followers were piling up, or of the flocks they were driving
together. As to the son of Ben-Mansour, his life was spared, but they
abandoned him to his fate. For two days he remained there, weeping,
thirsting, hungering, and exposed to the sun, but on the third day he
was found by some shepherds who conveyed him to Ouargla, where he was
living in 1845. Thus the dogs of the Touaregs have eaten the heart of
the chief of the Shamba, and it may be easily imagined that this will be
the subject of an undying feud, that will know neither respite nor
mercy.
I will not dwell any further upon customs impressed with such savage
energy. By way of contrast, I will now trace some family sketches,
commencing with the reverence attached to the paternal authority. So
long as the child is in his infancy, the tent belongs to him, and his
father is in some respects the first of his slaves. His sports are the
delight of the family, his whims the life and soul of the domestic
circle. But as soon as he attains to puberty, he is taught the utmost
deference. He is not even allowed to speak in the presence of his
father, or to attend the same meetings. This absolute respect which he
is bound to exhibit towards the head of the family, he is also obliged
to pay to his eldest brother. However, notwithstanding their
aristocratic severity, the customs of the Arabs do not come up to the
gloomy rigour of the Roman Patricians. A father, for instance, would
never condemn his son to death unless he has dishonoured his couch—for
any other offence he would merely banish him from his presence.
Thus far I have sketched with a coarse and rapid pencil the character of
the Arab aristocracy; I will now endeavour to represent the actual life
of a noble in some of its most solemn moments.
The day on which a child is born in a great tent is one of much
rejoicing. Every one visits the father of the new-born, and says to him:
"May thy son be happy!" And while the men press round the father, the
mother is not neglected, for the women of the tribe flock to see her.
Both men and women have their hands full of presents, proportioned to
their means. From camels, sheep, and costly apparel, down to grain and
dates, all the treasures of the desert abound in the tent which Allah
has just visited with his blessing. The recipient of all these tokens of
affection and respect is obliged to exercise a large hospitality.
Sometimes for twenty consecutive days, he feeds and entertains his
guests. These festivals in the desert have that air of grandeur which
belongs to all the scenes that are enacted in this solemn theatre of
primitive life.
As soon as the child is old enough, he learns to read and write, which
is an innovation among the _djouad_, for until recently the marabouts
alone cultivated letters. The man of the sword, like our mediæval
barons, held learning in contempt. It seemed to him that, in cultivating
his mind, some sort of injury was done to his energy of character. But
since they have beheld the humblest of our soldiers possessed of
knowledge without their courage being impaired, the Arabs have changed
their opinion on the subject. Besides, those who took service with us
soon discovered that education conferred a title to favours. Many of
them too, murmur to one another with a tone of sad resignation:
"Formerly we were able to live in ignorance, for peace and happiness
were with us; but in this time of trouble through which we are compelled
to pass, science must come to our aid." Our influence thus gradually
accomplishes, in the very heart of the desert, the work of civilisation,
of which some among us speak so despondingly, and others so lightly.
The culture of letters, however, does not lead, in the education of the
Arab, to any neglect of the art of managing a horse or of handling
fire-arms. As soon as a child can sit on a horse, he is placed, first of
all, on the back of a colt, and then on the full grown animal. When his
frame begins to take form, he is taken out hunting, and taught to fire
at a mark, and to bury his spear in the flanks of a wild boar. By the
time he has attained his sixteenth or seventeenth year, has learned the
Koran, and has been accustomed to fast, he is married. The Prophet has
said: "Marry when young. Marriage subdues the glance of the man's eye,
and regulates the conduct of the woman." Up to that epoch, paternal
tenderness watches over the purity of his manners with unceasing
vigilance. The lad is never left to himself. A tutor or an attendant
accompanies him wherever he goes. Men of dissolute habits and women of a
loose course of life are carefully kept away from him. He is expected to
bring to the companion of his life a body in robust health, and a soul
untainted by pollution. They select for him a youthful maiden of birth
equal to his own, of unspotted reputation, and, if possible, of great
beauty. It is the women of the family who ascertain these points, being
permitted to examine the tents in which dwell young girls of
marriageable years. A betrothal takes place, followed in due time by the
wedding.
The first of these days of festival, which like those at the birth of a
child, last for some time, is called _nahr refoude_, or the day of the
rape. Four or five hundred horsemen, magnificently attired, riding their
finest horses, carrying their most valuable arms, and conducted by the
kinsmen of the bride, proceed to the tent of the latter. They are
accompanied by women closely veiled and mounted on camels and mules. The
youngest and most beautiful damsels of the tribe are chosen for this
joyful mission. The journey, which sometimes lasts three days, is one
continual fantasia. The horsemen gallop to and fro, there is a constant
discharge of fire-arms, and the women utter that long drawn cry of love
and joy which fills the heart of the children of the desert with
ineffable emotion. At the arrival of this triumphal procession, the
father of the bride comes forth and exclaims "You are welcome, O guests
of Allah!" Then follow banquetings and rejoicings until the morrow, when
they again set out. This time the bride forms one of the cavalcade,
mounted on a camel, or mule, richly caparisoned. She has taken no leave
of her father. An almost false sense of delicacy forbids her to appear
in his presence at a moment when her fate is about to undergo an entire
change. She is equally prohibited from seeing her elder brothers. Her
girlhood's life is finished. Henceforth she belongs to another family.
When she is on the point of starting, her mother tenderly embraces her
and says: "You are going away from those from whose loins you sprang.
You are going far away from the nest that has so long sheltered you, and
whence you issued forth to learn to walk, and that in order to go to a
man whom you know not, and to whose society you have never been
accustomed. I advise you to be to him as a slave, if you wish that he
should be to you as a servant. Be satisfied with little. Keep a constant
watch over all that is likely to come under his eyes, and let not his
eyes ever behold an evil action. See to his food and his sleep. Hunger
causes anger, the want of sleep produces ill humour. Take care of his
property. Treat his kinsfolk and slaves with kindness. Be dumb as to his
secrets. When he rejoices, show no signs of sorrow. When he is
sorrowful, show no signs of joy. Allah will bless you!"
While this nuptial journey is being accomplished, the bridegroom
prepares a tent richly ornamented, which he places under the safeguard
of some of his friends. Into this the bride enters with her mother and
female relatives. A choice banquet is presented to her, and outside a
festival is celebrated, which, with gunpowder and music, combines all
that enters into the desert notion of rejoicing. At ten at night the
husband glides into the tent, now silent and deserted.
A wedding feast is often prolonged over three days and nights, and is
repeated each time the husband takes a fresh wife. An Arab chief is
permitted by the law to have four wives at the same time, but even these
do not suffice for the gratification of these fickle and voluptuous
temperaments. It is in vain that, by a custom which recalls to mind
Biblical manners, a Mussulman husband is allowed to associate concubines
with his legitimate wives. Even this tolerance is insufficient, and
recourse is had to divorce to appease these insatiable and ever craving
appetites. Instances have been known of an Arab chief having had a dozen
to fifteen lawful wives. As may easily be imagined, peace is far from
reigning in households where the law recognizes the existence of such
elements of discord. Sometimes the tent is divided into two parts, one
chamber being exclusively reserved for the women, the other belonging to
the husband, who selects from among his wives the one he fancies for
that night. Terrible jealousies secretly spring into being, and,
gradually gaining strength, finish by an explosion. Frequently a wife
who is preferred to her fellows is seized with a mysterious illness,
under which she languishes, fades away, and dies—a poison prepared by a
rival's hand has passed into her veins. This is the gloomy side of
eastern manners—crime allying itself to lust.