1843.
At this period of his fortunes, Abdel Kader was almost as much engaged
in subduing his own subjects and keeping them to their allegiance, as in
fighting with the French. The latter, by promises, by bribes, by
threats, by measures of the utmost severity, tried to gain over the Arab
tribes as allies and auxiliaries. A razzia on the part of the French was
sure to be followed by a razzia on the part of the Sultan. Both parties
endeavoured to establish their power by terror. But, whilst the one was
actuated by the thirst for conquest, the other was influenced by the
desire of rescuing his country from its evils, and rendering it
eventually great and powerful.
The French had learned to appreciate the importance of the Smala. They
saw in it the real nucleus of Abdel Kader’s influence. They ascertained
that it was the depository of immense wealth. It now became the chief
object of their research. From generals of _corps d’armée_ to colonels
of detachments, all displayed an eager and zealous activity to snatch
the splendid prize.
In the spring of 1843, Lamoricière opened the campaign by occupying
Tekedemt. Abdel Kader, with 1,500 cavalry, watched his further movements
from the neighbouring woods of Serisso. He had learned by spies that the
general’s object was the Smala. For twenty days he remained in ambush.
All communication with him was strictly prohibited, lest his presence
should be discovered. He and his men lived on acorns. The horses were
fed with leaves. To add to the intenseness of his abnegation, this trial
came on them during the period of the fast of Ramadan.
One day the chiefs of Abdel Kader came to him radiant with joy. They had
found a stray sheep. The Sultan at least might have a repast. “Take it
to my starving soldiers,” said Abdel Kader, and he turned to his meal of
acorns. Unconsciously, he was following the example of David, when he
looked on the waters from the well of Bethlehem, and said, “Is not this
the blood of the men who went in jeopardy of their lives? and he would
not drink it;” of Alexander, when he refused the helmet of water—“If I
alone drink, my men will be dispirited;” of Sidney, who on the field of
Zutphen resigned the cooling draught to his wounded comrade, with the
touching remark, “This man’s necessity is greater than mine.”
Twice Lamoricière led forth his troops in search of the Smala, and twice
Abdel Kader drove him back. But treason was at work. Sheik Omar ibn
Ferrath, of the Beni Aiad, offered to point out the exact spot on which
the Smala was encamped. Immediately the plan was laid. From Abdel Kader
no obstruction was feared. He was occupied with Lamoricière. The column
stationed at Medea was selected for the enterprise. The execution was
entrusted to the Duc D’Aumale.
On the 10th of May, 1843, D’Aumale left Boghar with 1,300 infantry, 600
cavalry, and 2 field pieces. Sheik Omar had announced the Smala to be at
Gojilat. The French reached that place on the 14th. But the Smala was
gone. Its new locality was unknown. The column wandered about weary and
uncertain. A fierce simoon sweeping over it reduced the men to utter
exhaustion. They halted and piled arms. D’Aumale rode on for some miles
in front, merely accompanied by his cavalry.
At break of day on the 16th, the traitor Sheik rode up to say that the
Smala was at the spring of Taguin. D’Aumale at once gave orders to march
on the point indicated. The Sheik expostulated. To attack the Smala with
600 cavalry appeared to him to be madness. He entreated the Duke either
to return to his column or to wait till it came up. “No prince of my
race ever receded,” was the gallant reply; and the trumpets sounded the
advance.
The Smala was reached. The French cavalry, spreading out like a fan,
went dashing through that sea of tents, and quickly scattered a
bewildered and panic-striken population of old men, women, and children.
The small guard of 500 regulars fired a volley and fled. A handful of
the Hashems bravely attempted to stem the torrent, but were swept away.
In less than an hour the victory was complete.
The scenes of confusion and despair which were crowded into that brief
interval—the frantic efforts at escape, the terror of the flying, the
dismay of the abandoned—the careering and plunging of a promiscuous mass
of camels, dromedaries, horses, mules, oxen, sheep, tossing about like
the waves of a raging sea, have been immortalised by the genius of
Horace Vernet. The painter’s art alone could do adequate justice to that
unparalleled and almost inconceivable scene of tumult.
The bloodshed had been comparatively trifling. The trophies consisted
chiefly of the families of Abdel Kader’s most influential chiefs. His
own family had escaped. The booty was immense. It comprised thousands of
animals of all kinds, Abdel Kader’s library, consisting of the rarest
Arabian manuscripts, richly bound, and valued at £5,000; his military
chest, containing millions of francs; the chests of his Khalifas and
Kaids, all deposited in the Smala for security, and filled with gold and
silver coins, and costly jewellery.
The French soldiers baled out dollars and doubloons in their shakos;
they filled their haversacks with pearls and diamonds. In the general
disorder, the voice of command was unheeded; and each seized the prize,
which a more or less happy chance threw into his hands.
Abdel Kader received the news of the taking of the Smala, in the woods
of Serisso. The blow for a moment overwhelmed him. He measured at once
the extent of his misfortune, and saw in that severe decree of fate the
presage of a dark and calamitous future. Dismissing the messengers who
brought him the intelligence, he retired from some hours to his tent,
engaged in meditation and prayer.
His chiefs, his officers and men, had, in the meantime, assembled in
groups outside. Some were silent and downcast, others gave way to the
wildest imprecations. Many had lost their all; their wives and their
children had been taken captive—they might be separated for years,
perhaps for ever; disordered imaginations filled up this dark shadow of
the unknown with exaggerated horrors; the distracted sufferers saw no
prospect of relief. One only feeling gave them a shadow of
consolation—their Sultan was still amongst them.
Abdel Kader came forth. They crowded to his presence. They watched his
looks. Some essayed to address him, but the words faltered on their
lips; none ventured to fathom the secret workings of that profound
prostration. But the cloud had passed over; a smile played on his
countenance. “Praise be to God,” he said; “all those objects which I so
highly prized, which were so dear to my heart, and occupied my mind so
much, only impeded my movements, and turned me aside from the right way.
For the future, I shall be free to fight the infidels.”
Then, speaking of those who had fallen, he added, “Why should we mourn
and complain? Are not all those whom we loved and have lost, now blessed
in Paradise?” The next day he wrote to his Khalifas:—“The French have
made a razzia on my Smala; but let us not be discouraged, we shall
henceforth be lighter and better disposed for war.”
Thus, rising superior to events, Abdel Kader stilled the troubled waters
which rose around him; from the deepest of his misfortunes he gathered
hope and encouragement for the future.
When alluding afterwards to this disastrous period, Abdel Kader thus
expressed himself:—“When my Smala was attacked by the Duc D’Aumale, its
population could not have comprised less than 60,000 souls. He did not
carry off a tenth part; it extended from Taguin as far as Djebel Amour.
When an Arab lost sight of his family in it, he was sometimes two days
in finding it. Wherever it was encamped, the wells and rivulets were
dried up. I had established a police force expressly to prevent the
waters from being muddled or wasted by the flocks. In spite of all my
precautions, many perished from thirst.
“My Smala contained armourers, saddlers, tailors—every trade, in fact,
necessary to its organisation. An immense fair was held in it, which was
much frequented by the Arabs of the Tell. As to our grain, corn, and
barley, it was either brought to us, or we sent to procure it from the
tribes of the north.
“The order of the encampment was perfectly regulated. When I had pitched
my tent, every one knew the place he was to occupy. I had around me
three or four hundred of my regular infantry, and the irregular cavalry
of the Hashems of Eghrees, who were especially devoted to me. It was no
easy task to reach me. Not that I took these measures for my own
personal security; I felt I was necessary to accomplish the work of God,
and trusted in Him to strengthen and protect the arm that carried his
standard.
“At the time of the surprise, I was near Tekedemt, observing the
division of Oran, which was in the neighbourhood, and from which I
thought I had most to dread. I had with me 1,500 or 1,600 cavalry. Ben
Kharoub was with the Flittas, Ben Allal in the Ouarensis, Mustapha-ibn-
Taamy amongst the Beni Ouragh. But I never thought there was occasion
for me to fear so terrible a mischance in the direction of Medea; and
none of my Khalifas were watching the movements of the king’s son.
“Despite all that, however, we should not have been surprised if God had
not blinded our people. On seeing the Spahis coming on, with their red
burnouses, it was thought in the Smala that they were my irregulars
returning. The women even raised the usual cries of welcome and
rejoicing to their honour. Nor were they undeceived until the first
shots were fired. Then ensued a scene of inexpressible confusion, which
baffled all the efforts of those who sought to defend themselves.
“If I had been there, we should have fought for our wives and children,
and the French would have seen a grand day. But God decreed it
otherwise. I only heard of the misfortune three days afterwards; it was
too late.”
The smallness of their force prevented the French from taking more than
3,000 prisoners; but amongst them were the families of several of the
Sultan’s Khalifas. The rest of the Smala dispersed in all directions.
Some fell among Arab tribes, who plundered them. Others were overtaken
by Lamoricière.
Foremost in the pursuit was Mutapha-ibn-Ismail, who throughout the war
had made himself conspicuous by the malicious zeal with which he had
ever aided and directed the movements of the French against the
distinguished chief whom a base jealousy urged him to thwart and oppose.
But the traitor now met a merited doom. Crossing the district of the
Flittas, he was attacked, shot down, and decapitated. His head was taken
to the Sultan’s head-quarters. Abdel Kader gazed upon it for some
moments with pardonable satisfaction, and then contemptuously ordered it
to be thrown to the dogs.
To recover his influence and restore the general confidence by the re-
establishment of his Smala, was now to Abdel Kader a matter of vital
importance. But all his efforts were vain. The moral effects of its
defeat and capture were irremediable. Every day brought Abdel Kader
information of the defection of large and influential tribes. Arab
contingents now swelled the ranks of his enemies, and marched openly
against him.
Yet deeper misfortunes followed. At the very moment when his ablest
Khalifas were most needed, a remorseless fate removed them. Their career
was cut short by captivity, or terminated by a glorious death. Deprived
of these connecting links, his empire lost cohesion. His distant
provinces fell an easy prey to the French, who everywhere displayed
their triumphant standards. But the lion heart and iron will still bore
up, and defied fortune to do its worst.
The province of Oran became the scene of an almost superhuman struggle.
Followed by a chosen and devoted band of some 5,000 followers, Abdel
Kader made his presence felt at all points; now he fell on recreant
tribes; now he made head against the French columns. Ever in the van,
leading on the charge, plunging into the thickest of the fight, by his
heroic example he encouraged, animated, and inspired his small band. His
bravest followers fell around him; his horses were killed under him; his
burnous was riddled with bullets; but still he fought on, desperately
braving and sustaining the battle’s brunt.
Once he was taken unawares. On the 23rd September, 1843, he was encamped
near the Marabouts (or sacred edifices) of Sidi Yoosuf, with a battalion
of infantry and 500 irregular horse. A spy betrayed his position to
Lamoricière. A distance of six leagues was between them. The general at
once led out in person the 2nd Chasseurs d’Afriques. All were elate and
confident. The space was rapidly traversed by a night’s march. In the
grey of dawn the spot was reached.
Abdel Kader was aroused from sleep by cries of “The French! the French!”
He had barely time to mount. He might have escaped, but death in his
eyes was preferable to the double stain of surprise and flight. His
infantry sprung to their arms, and by his orders advanced and fired a
volley. His cavalry rallied at his voice. Then, as the smoke slowly
rolled away, he dashed into the French chasseurs, overwhelmed and
dispersed them by the suddenness of the shock, and after a few minutes’
hard fighting drew off his whole force in perfect order.
The Beni Amers had gone over to the French—those same Beni Amers whose
4,000 sabres had waved in exultation around the young hero of the
Djehad; whose brilliant courage had opened before him the path of glory
and of empire. Abdel Kader determined to attack them. Descending
suddenly upon them with all his available levies, he swept through their
encampments, slew numbers, and carried off a large booty. A French
battalion stationed amongst them struggled vainly to arrest his
progress. But an Arab chief, one of his old followers, boldly singled
him out, rode up to him, and fired at him point blank. The ball missed.
Abdel Kader turned round and shot the traitor dead with his pistol.
Notwithstanding the temporary success of these desperate efforts, Abdel
Kader well knew that unless some more stable and permanent form were
given to his energy and perseverance, all attempts to regain his former
ascendancy, and repair the crumbling edifice of his fortunes, would be
vain and illusory. Algeria, he now clearly saw, was closed to him, as a
battle-field likely to be productive of any solid advantages to his
position, notwithstanding his endless raids and triumphant razzias.
Without external aid, he felt the game was lost.
The magnificent Smala was now reduced to his own Deira, barely amounting
to 1,000 souls, wandering about in miserable uncertainty. By fixing it
in a place of security, he would be ready for fresh efforts. While
escorting it to a more favourable spot, Lamoricière again crossed his
path. A desperate engagement ensued. The women animated the combatants
with their voices. Abdel Kader and his followers, fighting in the
presence of their wives and children, performed prodigies of valour.
Again the Sultan’s formidable antagonist was foiled. The Deira was
safely established at Bouka Cheha, on the territory of Morocco.
The political relations between England and France were at this time
threatening. Abdel Kader thought the moment propitious. He sent an
embassy to the Queen of England. In a letter addressed to her Majesty,
he opened to her the prospect of possessions in Algeria. All the sea-
coast towns should be ceded to her in full and undivided sovereignty. On
the other hand, the Arabs required at her hands the acknowledgment of
their national independence. A glorious alliance between the English and
the Arabs would present an impassible barrier, he urged, to French
aggrandisement in Africa. The letter was placed in the hands of the
Prime Minister. An interview with the Queen was sought by his agent, and
refused. An answer was promised, but it was never sent.
The embassy was at the same time entrusted with a letter from Abdel
Kader to the Turkish Sultan, to be transmitted through the British
Foreign Office. In return for succour promptly sent, the Sultan of the
Arabs offered to acknowledge the descendant of Othman as his suzerain.
The letter was forwarded to its destination, but no results ensued.
Whatever were his expectations from the quarters he thus addressed,
Abdel Kader’s main reliance was in the support and co-operation of the
Sultan of Morocco. For years, Sultan Abderahman had shown him every mark
of unbounded cordiality and esteem, had loaded him with presents, and
offered him the sweet incense of flattery and adulation. But there his
friendship stopped. Throughout the whole career of Abdel Kader, he had
never offered to supply him gratuitously with material aid of any kind;
and Abdel Kader had never condescended to demand it.
Now, however, stern necessity and a solemn sense of religious duty
compelled him to make the appeal. In the most urgent and pressing terms,
he adjured the Moorish Sultan to come forward with the whole strength
and resources of his empire in behalf of the common cause. He pointed
out the common danger. If all Algeria were to be subdued, where, he
asked, could be the security for Morocco? Pretexts would not be wanting
for invading the latter, as pretexts had been found for invading the
former. The Arab tribes, momentarily dispirited, would revive at the
sight of the Moorish armies, and, with re-enkindled enthusiasm, range
themselves round the Moorish standards.
Not content with challenging the political and religious sympathies of
the Sultan of Morocco, Abdel Kader resolved to win his patron’s
adhesion, if not to extort his alliance, by an act of personal devotion.
Several of the frontier Morocco tribes had long been in open revolt
against their sovereign. He marched against them, subdued them, and sent
the leaders of the rebellion in chains to Ouchda, forwarding at the same
time a letter from himself to Sultan Abderahman, stating his services.
The reply of the Moorish monarch was complimentary, but reserved. It
held out to him no encouragement. Abdel Kader, finding the fruitlessness
of his advances in that quarter, now summoned around him a few faithful
adherents, and, relying on his own efforts to retrieve his fortunes,
disappeared for some months in the Sahara.
The French, relieved of Abdel Kader’s presence, imagined that their work
was done. His withdrawal from the scene of action was to them the
grateful symbol of his abdication and defeat. Marshal Bugeaud thus
congratulated his Government on the glorious result:—“After the campaign
of the spring (1843), I might have proclaimed Algeria to be conquered
and subdued. I preferred stating less than the truth. But now, after the
battle of the 11th of this month, in which the remains of the Emir’s
infantry were destroyed, and in which his first and most distinguished
Khalifa was killed, I will boldly declare that all serious warfare is
finished. Abdel Kader may, indeed, with the handful of cavalry he still
has about him, make some isolated _coup de main_ on the frontier, but he
can never again attempt anything important.”