1830-1832.
The taking of Algiers by the French in 1830 did not at first inspire the
Arabs with any unusual feelings of dread or anxiety. The Franks had
often descended on their coasts, and even occupied some of their
maritime towns. The standards of Spain and England had waved
triumphantly on the ramparts of Oran and Tangiers. Bona and Algiers had
been compelled at different times to yield a sullen deference to the
requirements of European civilisation; but the military occupation and
the political pressure had alike ceased. Thus the Arabs had never as yet
seen any reason to regard a hostile incursion on their soil, by the
Franks, as pregnant with danger to their national existence.
The proceedings of the French, however, in Algeria, soon convinced them
that the presence of these invaders was no ordinary visitation. General
Bourmont, indeed, from the outset, declared in a public proclamation,
that France took possession, not only of the town of Algiers, but of the
whole Regency. This announcement, closely followed as it was by the
exile of the Dey, the removal of every trace and vestige of Turkish
power, the deportation of the Turkish population, the issuing of laws
and ordinances in the name of the King of the French, the enlarging and
beautifying of the town of Algiers, the seizure of all the towns along
the coast, and the advances of military reconnaissance towards the
Atlas, revealed designs which neither the Arabs of the actual
generation, nor their ancestors, had ever been called upon to
counteract.
Before the French began to move beyond the walls of Algiers, the
disposition of the Arabs towards them had been apparently friendly.
Provisions had been brought in abundantly. Some of their chiefs had made
overtures of submission. The Bey of Tittery had even accepted French
investiture. So promising, indeed, was the aspect of affairs, that the
French fancied they were about to be hailed as deliverers, and
considered that the Arabs, overjoyed at being emancipated from the hated
Turkish yoke, would thankfully accept French domination. The first
movement of the French into the interior rapidly dispelled this pleasing
illusion.
An expedition, commanded by the French general in person, to Blidah, a
town situated at the foot of the Lower Atlas (July 24th, 1830), at once
revealed the rising feeling of the Arabs. Lulled into security by the
apparent heartiness of their reception among the inhabitants of Blidah,
the leading men of which town came out to meet them, the French threw
off their knapsacks, and wandered joyously amidst its delicious gardens.
Suddenly, bands of Arabs and Kabyles rushed down upon them from the
mountains above, and with wild cries commenced a vigorous attack. The
French rapidly collected, bravely held their ground, and the next day
retreated in good order to Algiers.
The Arabs took this temporary advantage as an earnest of future
successes. From that moment, the spirit of defiance and resistance
assumed a decided form. The Marabouts, leading and directing the
national mind, proclaimed the Djehad, or Holy War. The Bey of Tittery,
anxious to atone for his recent defection, wrote to Bourmont, fixing the
day when at the head of 20,000 men, he would drive him and his Frenchmen
into the sea.
On the other hand, French garrisons were quietly being stationed in all
the seaport towns. At Oran, Hussein Bey became anxious to be delivered
from a position which had become dangerous to his person. He was closely
blockaded by the Arabs, burning to revenge themselves on his tyranny.
His Turkish militia was utterly powerless for his defence. The Arabs in
Turkish employ, the _Maghzen_, as they were called, were flying before
the tribes so long oppressed, who now considered that their hour of
retaliation was come.
In this dilemma, Hussein, unwilling to fly, and yet unable to hold his
post, determined on adopting a course which, though humiliating to his
pride, was dictated by the sternest necessity. He sent for Mehi-ed-deen,
and craved his protection. Mehi-ed-deen, astonished at such an
application, and fearing to compromise himself with his own countrymen
by a hasty consent, asked leave to return home to consult the Hashems.
On his arrival at the ketna, he assembled a family council, and called
on each member to give his opinion on the subject. The prevailing
opinion was to the effect that it would be ungenerous to refuse the
Bey’s request. It was true, as was on every hand admitted, that the
injuries done by him to their beloved chief had been wanton and
malicious; but it was urged, that it would be a stain upon Arab
character to refuse an asylum to the fallen.
Abdel Kader spoke. He begged the indulgence of his relatives, and
particularly of his father, if he ventured to differ from them. In the
state of anarchy which now existed in the province of Oran, he argued,
it was by no means certain that they could protect the Bey from the
effects of the universal feelings of hatred and indignation which
prevailed against him. Whatever steps they might take, the Bey would
still run the risk of being insulted, assaulted, perhaps murdered. Who
could avert an outburst of popular fury, or be answerable for its
consequences? In such an event, how great would be the disgrace of those
who had given him a safe-conduct, and had been unable to make it
respected!
“Another and equally important reason,” pursued Abdel Kader, “militates
against the reception of the Bey in our ketna. An asylum given by our
family to that detested representative of Turkish tyranny, would be
looked upon by the Arabs as a kind of tacit forgetfulness of all his
past conduct. Consequently we should make to ourselves enemies of all
the tribes to whom the Bey is obnoxious; in other words, of all the
Arabs of Oran.”
Mehi-ed-deen at once declared himself a convert to his son’s reasoning;
and in this step he was shortly followed by every member of the council.
A messenger was sent to inform the Bey that his request could not be
granted, as Mehi-ed-deen would not become responsible for his safety. On
the 4th of January, 1831, General Damremont entered the port of Oran.
The Bey at once surrendered, and he was allowed to embark for
Alexandria.
The disorder and anarchy which had already broken out in the interior
was now constantly on the increase. The Mohammedans of the sea-coast
towns, who had fled from the French, were roaming about the country with
their families in terror and despair. The Arabs waylaid them, and robbed
them without mercy. Mehi-ed-deen, who had hitherto been a passive
observer of events, felt that the time had now arrived for action. By
his orders Abdel Kader and his brothers, with effective escorts, scoured
the plains in all directions, protecting the unfortunate fugitives,
rescuing many from the hands of the marauders, and conducting all to
places of safety.
But whatever good Mehi-ed-deen effected by this humane and timely
interposition, it was evident that a far more potent arm than his was
requisite to establish anything like a semblance of order and
government. Not only on the plains, but in the towns, strife and
contention were raging unchecked. Party feuds, which had been long
suspended, broke out afresh with redoubled acrimony. The Arabs were
everywhere giving the reins to their innate propensities for unbridled
licence and lawlessness.
Long and anxious were the consultations held by the Marabouts on this
frightful state of affairs. At length, with one accord, they determined
to go to Mehi-ed-deen for counsel. Mehi-ed-deen thus appealed to,
addressed the applicants for his advice in the following terms:—
“For many months, as you all know, I have been trying to preserve some
degree of order amidst the general confusion which prevails; but my
utmost endeavours have only been able to rescue a few of the weak and
unprotected from the brutality of violent men.
“The tyranny of the Turks cramped and crushed our energies; but the
present state of things, if allowed to continue, will destroy them
utterly. The bonds of society are dissolved. Every man’s hand is raised
against his neighbour. Our people, given up to their vile passions, are
daily outraging the laws of God and man. At the same time, the evils
which menace us from without are not less formidable than those which
consume us from within. Shall we call in the French? Impossible. To
submit to them, much more to invite them, would be to betray our duty to
our God, our country, and our faith.
“Yet the French are a warlike nation, strong in numbers, abounding in
riches, and burning with a love of conquest. And what have we to oppose
to them? Tribes at variance with each other; designing and rapacious
chiefs striving for personal aggrandisement; a commonalty which has
thrown off all restraint, some enriching themselves by plunder, others
precariously holding their own. The parties are too unequal. With such
materials, to imagine even a successful struggle with the infidel would
be folly, to attempt it, madness.
“No. The French king, powerful as he is, can only be effectually opposed
by a king like himself at the head of a well-regulated state, disposing
of a well-filled treasury, commanding a disciplined army. Nor need we go
far to find such a one. The Sultan of Morocco already sympathises with
us. He must know full well that the external danger which threatens us
may ultimately menace him. His presence amongst us will at once
encourage and embolden the good, and awe the wicked. Order will be
enforced. Fighting under him, we shall march to assured victory; for his
standards are the standards of God and the Prophet.”
A few days afterwards, an embassy, comprising ten of the most
influential Marabouts and Sheiks, with an escort of fifty horsemen, and
mules laden with presents, took its departure for Fez. Sultan Abderahman
received the embassy with every appearance of cordiality, and promised
to consider its demands. Six months elapsed without any reply. At last
the Arab chiefs were sent for. Movements in the palace, and the
assemblage of the troops, showed that the petition of the Arabs of
Algeria had been granted. In six weeks, the Sultan’s son Ali, at the
head of 5,000 cavalry and two parks of artillery, established his
headquarters at Tlemsen, in the province of Oran.
Mehi-ed-deen and Abdel Kader, with all the chiefs of the Hashem, chiefs
from the Beni Mejaher, the Beni Amer, and other tribes, hastened to pay
their homage to the son and representative of their new Sultan. His
authority was speedily recognised in all parts of the regency. The
_khotba_, or public prayer for the Mohammedan Sultan, was pronounced in
all the mosques for the Sultan of Morocco. Everything conspired to
confirm the belief that Algeria had peaceably passed under the Moorish
sceptre. But the French Government, seasonably apprised of these newly-
formed relations between the Arabs and the Sultan Abderahman, at once
sent the latter an ultimatum of immediate withdrawal from Algeria, or
war.
Abderahman, compelled to choose one or other of these alternatives, and
being totally unprepared to commence hostilities, immediately sent
orders to his son to return. In a few days, although the Moors had been
warmly welcomed, even in the provinces of Tittery and Constantine, not
one was to be seen in the whole country. The Marabouts and chiefs now
resolved to offer the dignity of Sultan to Mehi-ed-deen, and went in a
body for that purpose to the ketna. He modestly declined the offer; but
at the same time he recommended a second appeal to Morocco.
Another embassy was accordingly sent to Fez, to implore the Moorish
Sultan to lend his name, at least, if he could not give material aid and
assistance, to the movement which was being made in his favour. Unable
to act overtly, yet hoping to profit by events, Abderahman so far
complied with their request, that he sent a confidential agent to
Mascara. This clandestine proceeding, however, produced no effect. The
Arabs scorned a power which dared not openly display itself; and in a
short time the Moorish agent was withdrawn.
Again all eyes were turned to Mehi-ed-deen. Again the Arabs entreated
him to be their Sultan. “No,” he replied. “I am not adequate to perform
the duties of such a post; but what religion imposes upon me, that will
I do. I will go with you to the Djehad.” The Arabs had for some time
been making approaches to Oran, now strongly occupied by the French.
Abdel Kader had taken the field, and his father served under him.
The Arabs had recently been attacking Fort Philip, a strong citadel to
the south of the town. Abdel Kader had both proposed and superintended
the operation. Conspicuous in a scarlet burnous, he led on a mixed body
of cavalry and infantry to the very walls of the fort. Ordering the
latter to descend into the ditch and keep up a constant fire on the
ramparts, he placed the former in such a position as to be ready to
resist any sortie which might be made from the place. The fire of shot
and shell which the French opened on the Arabs was such as might have
staggered the best disciplined troops. But Abdel Kader, careering to and
fro, and cheering his comrades by his voice and gestures, kept them
together, and taught them to despise the tremendous missiles which were
so wont to fill them with terror and amazement.
Word was sent him that the Arabs he had placed in the ditch had expended
their ammunition, and that no one would expose himself to supply them.
“Cowards!” he exclaimed, “give me the cartridges.” Wrapping them up in
the folds of his burnous, he dashed singly across the plain, rode up to
the fort, threw them into the ditch, and urging his men to be firm and
go on with their work, returned, to the surprise of all, without being
touched.
On this and many similar occasions of peril and enterprise, in which he
fleshed his maiden sword, Abdel Kader’s courage and bravery drew forth
not only praises, but rapturous admiration. The Arabs began to look with
superstitious reverence on one, who as with a charmed life, rode
fearlessly and harmlessly wherever danger menaced; now breaking through
the line of the enemy’s skirmishers; now charging up to a square, and
sweeping the bayonets with his sabre; now standing unmoved and pointing
contemptuously at the cannon balls as they whizzed by his head, or at
the shells as they exploded at his feet.
Nevertheless, however confident the Arabs might feel in their young
chief, however they might acknowledge that in him a master-spirit had
arisen to conduct them in their struggle against the infidels, they felt
that this desultory mode of attack was not war. They saw full well that
without a responsible head to organise, to raise revenues by regular
imposts, to husband resources, and to form and carry out a clearly
defined plan of campaign, all their efforts would be abortive, all their
sacrifices useless. At a grand meeting held at Mascara, these topics
were earnestly discussed.
Mehi-ed-deen, who was enjoying a short repose at the ketna, was invited
to attend. Scarcely had he arrived and dismounted, when an excited
throng surrounded him. A tumult of voices was raised. On all sides he
was thus apostrophised,—“How long, O Mehi-ed-deen, are we to be left
without a leader? How long will you remain a callous spectator of our
distractions; you, whose name alone would suffice to rally all hearts,
to encourage the desponding, to curb the malignant, to give strength and
cohesion to the common cause? Already many of our bravest have fallen
off in weariness and disgust. Who, they say, is to repair our losses, to
replace our horses killed, our arms broken and useless? You, O Mehi-ed-
deen, are answerable for all this.” Then, placing their swords at his
breast, the chiefs exclaimed:—“Choose between being our Sultan or
instant death.”
Mehi-ed-deen, violently agitated, but still preserving his presence of
mind, demanded to be heard. “You all know,” he said, “that I am a man of
peace, devoting myself to the worship of God. The task of ruling
involves the use of brute force and the shedding of blood. But since you
insist on my being your Sultan, I consent; and abdicate in favour of my
son, Abdel Kader.”
This sudden and unexpected solution of the question was received with
loud acclamations of approval. The name of Abdel Kader was repeated with
enthusiasm. The character, the personal appearance, the manly bearing,
the tried gallantry of the favourite son of Mehi-ed-deen, became the
general topic of discourse. A horseman was forthwith despatched to bring
him from the ketna.
Early on the next morning, November 21st, 1832, Abdel Kader entered
Mascara. All the streets and avenues leading to the town were thronged.
Men, women, and children vied with each other in joyful demonstrations
of welcome to their future Sultan. Ushered into the large court where
the council was assembled, Abdel Kader was informed of all that had
passed. Calm, self-collected, and unelated, he simply said, “It is my
duty to obey the commands of my father.” A burst of applause followed
this simple avowal of filial obedience and patriotic devotion.
Placed in an antique chair of state, which had formerly belonged to some
Spanish grandee, and which had been dragged forth from its musty recess
for the occasion, the young Sultan, of twenty-five years of age,
received the allegiance of the nobles and chiefs congregated around him.
Loud shouts of “Long life and victory to our Sultan, Abdel Kader!” burst
from the whole assembly. They were caught up and reiterated by the
people from without, and thus heralded the inauguration of an Arabian
Caliphate.
In the afternoon Abdel Kader went to the Mosque, which was already
crowded to suffocation. After performing his devotions, he stood up. A
Koran was put into his hands. He read and expounded. By degrees his
countenance became more animated, his voice more resonant, his manner
more impressive, and his action more emphatic, as, leaving the language
of disquisition, he passed to more noble and exalted themes.
Not for minutes, but for hours, and until the sun had sunk below the
horizon, did the soldier orator pour forth one continued stream of
burning and impassioned eloquence. He expatiated, in heart-rending
tones, on the sins, the iniquities, the crimes, the horrors which
polluted the land. In vivid terms he depicted Heaven’s judgments
overtaking a godless and vice-abandoned people; and now, again, he
conjured up before the minds of his audience, in characters of flame,
the appalling picture of their country ravaged by the infidel, their
domestic hearths violated, their temples desecrated.
The sensation of wonder and astonishment which had at first filled the
breasts of his hearers, now rapidly changed into conscience-stricken
feelings of shame, contrition, and remorse. But when, with outstretched
arm and lightning glance, he called on his countrymen, in words which
glowed with the fire of inspiration, to stand boldly forward in the
sacred cause of God and the Prophet, to rally round the standard of the
“Djehad,” and to emulate the glorious martyrs of the true faith; and
then painted in vivid colours the liberated spirits of the slain
entering the blissful mansions, they sprang to their feet, they shook
their spears, they clashed their swords, they wept aloud, and with
frantic cries yelled out, “Il Djehad! Il Djehad!”
Exulting in his prowess, again and again did the consummate artist
strike the chord, whose vibrations had thrilled every heart and
enkindled every soul, and, as the frenzied voices rose louder and louder
around him, his voice yet surged above them all. Gathering fresh impulse
from the responsive acclamations of his hearers, he swayed to and fro.
He smote his breast. Big drops of sweat suffused his brow. His eyes
glistened and flashed. He flung his hands aloft, as though appealing to
celestial witnesses. At last, so crushing and overpowering became his
excitement, that Reason might have succumbed, had not Nature, by a
copious flood of tears, relieved the fearful tension.
The next day (November 22nd, 1832) Abdel Kader proceeded in state to the
valley of Ersibia, ten minutes’ distance from Mascara. Ten thousand Arab
cavalry were there in waiting to receive and welcome their newly-elected
sovereign. They were arranged, according to their tribes, in one
continuous crescent, around a splendid tent, which had been erected in
the centre of the plain. The entire population of Mascara occupied the
intervening ground.
Just as the sun’s slanting rays peered over the heights of Djebel
Nusmut, lighting up this scene as if by magic brightness, the shrill
cries of the women, the shouts of the men, and incessant crashes of
musketry, announced the approach of the royal cavalcade. First came a
chosen band, escorting the standard of the Djehad. Then followed the
chiefs of the Beni Amer, the Beni Mejaher, the Beni Yacoub, the Beni
Abbas, on their high-mettled steeds, with their brilliant equipments,
and well-burnished arms. Now appeared Abdel Kader—a plain, unornamented,
red burnous flung over his shoulders, riding his favourite black
charger. The chiefs of the Beni Hashem, his own tribe, brought up the
rear of the splendid _cortège_.
Passing on, as quickly as the crowd would permit—for some thronged round
to kiss his hand, some the hem of his burnous, others even his horse’s
feet—Abdel Kader reached the tent and dismounted. For some minutes he
was lost to view. At length Mehi-ed-deen came forth, leading him by the
hand, in order to present him to the people. “Behold the Sultan
announced by prophecy!” he exclaimed. “Behold the son of Zohra! Obey him
as you would have obeyed me. God protect the Sultan!” “Our lives, our
properties, all that we have, are his!” shouted the people. “We will
obey no law but that of our Sultan Abdel Kader.”
“I, in my turn,” replied Abdel Kader, “will know no law but the Koran.
By the precepts of the Koran, and the Koran alone, will I be guided. If
my own brother forfeits his life by the Koran, he shall die.”
Amidst the acclamations which saluted this short but pregnant speech,
Abdel Kader vaulted into his saddle, and, followed by all his chiefs,
swept at full speed along the Arab lines. At intervals he reined up,
briefly ejaculating, “Il Djehad! Il Djehad! Liberty and independence are
only in the Djehad. Paradise is in the shade of sabres. Rally round the
standard of the Djehad!”
The banners waved, the drums and trumpets sent forth their martial
sounds, and the mighty mass, breaking ground, circled round their Sultan
in successive squadrons, and then escorted him back to Mascara. After
snatching a hasty meal, Abdel Kader shut himself up in a small room,
and, summoning his secretaries, dictated the following proclamation:—
“Praise be to God alone, and blessings and salutation from on high on
him,[2] after whom there is no prophet.
“To (such and such a tribe), and in particular to its nobles, sheiks,
notables, and alemahs.
“May God enlighten you, guide and direct your counsels, and give success
to your deeds and actions. The citizens of the districts, Mascara, the
Eastern and Western Gharees, and their neighbours and allies, the Beni
Sokrân, El Borgiés, the Beni Abbas, the Yacoubiés, the Beni Amer, the
Beni Mejaher, and others, have agreed unanimously to appoint me, and
have accordingly appointed me, to the government of our country;
pledging themselves to obey me in success and in distress, in prosperity
and in adversity; and to consecrate their persons, their sons, and their
properties to the great and holy cause.
“We have, therefore, assumed this important charge (though with extreme
reluctance), hoping it may be the means of uniting the great body of
Moslems, of preventing dissensions amongst them, of affording general
security to all dwellers in the land, of checking all acts of
lawlessness on the part of the disorderly against the well-disposed, and
of driving back and overcoming the enemy who has invaded our country
with a view of placing their yoke upon our necks.
“As a condition of our acceptance, we have imposed on those who have
delegated to us the supreme power, the duty of always conforming, in all
their actions, to the holy precepts and teaching of the book of God, and
of administrating justice in their various spheres, according to the law
of the Prophet; loyally and impartially, to the strong and the weak, the
noble and the respectable. This condition has been accepted by them.
“We hereby invite you to be partakers in this pledge, or compact,
between ourselves and them. Hasten, therefore, to make manifest your
allegiance and obedience; and may God prosper you in this world and in
the world to come. My great object is to reform, and to do good as much
as in me lies. My trust is in God; and from Him, and Him only, I expect
reward and success.
“By order of the Defender of Religion, our sovereign lord, the Prince of
the Faithful, Abdel Kader-ibn-Mehi-ed-deen. May God give him the
victory. Amen. Dated from Mascara, November 22, 1832.”