1844-1845.
The erection of an Arab kingdom in Algeria had been viewed by the Sultan
of Morocco, not only with feelings of religious sympathy and approval,
but with a cordial appreciation of its commercial advantages. The
government of the young Sultan of the Arabs, based on a strict and
undeviating adherence to the principles of the Koran, had largely
increased both the trade and the revenues of his empire.
Formerly the rich caravans which plied between Fez and the southern
parts of Africa, passed through Algeria as through an enemy’s country.
Large guards were necessary to save them from spoliation. They were
frequently attacked and plundered, with serious loss of life. They had
to run the gauntlet both of Arabs and Turks. If they escaped from the
open hostility of the one, they were devoured by the grasping avarice
and unblushing extortion of the other. Now they traversed the whole
extent of Algeria in perfect safety. In the interior they paid no tolls;
at the frontiers they paid no duties. In Abdel Kader’s eyes a custom-
house was an anomaly and an abomination. The legal _zekka_ and _ashur_,
and, in case of urgent necessity, the _marouna_, an extraordinary war-
contribution, were all that his conscience allowed him to demand from
his subjects. Industry fructified in its natural channels; the
reciprocity of exchange was unfettered.
When to all these considerations were added the personal esteem and
regard, the admiration little short of idolatry with which the Moorish
Sultan reverenced the once triumphant leader of the Djehad, it was fully
expected throughout the Moorish population, who secretly longed to be
led on, in alliance with the Arabs, against the infidels, that a loud
and strenuous appeal to arms would sooner or later have signalised the
adhesion of Morocco to the common cause, and imparted fresh strength and
vigour to Abdel Kader’s noble, though waning, efforts of constancy and
heroism.
But, however sensitive Sultan Abderahman might have been to the
instincts of his faith, he was not the less tenacious of the stability
of his own throne. The invading element had swept triumphantly over the
barriers raised alike by Turkish and Arab desperation. The power which
had planted its victorious standards in Algiers and Mascara, might well
carry them to Fez. A demonstration in favour of Abdel Kader on the part
of Sultan Abderahman, would probably involve them both in a common ruin.
Balancing between his personal predilections and his political fears,
the Moorish Sultan hoped to save his conscience and his crown, by doing
nothing.
Unfortunately for the astuteness of these calculations on the part of
the Moorish Sultan, the position of Abdel Kader was of such a nature as
to render a hostile collision between France and Morocco inevitable. The
sympathies of the Moorish population were gradually burning more and
more strongly towards the indomitable hero who had honoured their soil
by making it the sanctuary of his accumulated glories, his sanctified
misfortunes, and his unflagging hopes. It required but a spark to raise
a widely-spreading and inextinguishable conflagration.
Abdel Kader had for some time made the Morocco frontier the basis of his
forays into Algeria. He could retire within the Morocco territory
without molestation. The French, in order not to be thus baffled, had at
last advanced a strong division to that part of the frontier from whence
he made his sallies. But the frontier lines were ill defined. There was
a portion of the territory which might be considered as debateable
ground, and this debateable ground was boldly occupied by the French.
The name of the place on which Lamoricière and Bedeau fixed on for their
encampment was Leila Maghnia, so called after the name of a celebrated
and highly venerated female saint, whose remains lay deposited in a
stately tomb, erected on the spot. Here the French dug entrenchments,
hung up their accoutrements, smoked their pipes, and sung songs.
The profanation was too glaring to be overlooked, too monstrous to be
endured. A shout of indignation rolled through the Moorish empire. It
roused the vacillating monarch from his ignominious repose, and
compelled him either to see himself engulphed amidst the tempestuous
waves of an irrepressible fanaticism, or at once to send an army to the
scene of outrage, for the purpose of asserting the national dignity, and
avenging the foul insult offered to the national faith.
On the 22nd May, 1844, El Ghenaoui, commander of the Moorish garrison at
Ouchda, summoned the French to evacuate Leila Maghnia. The summons was
treated with contempt. On the 30th, some Moorish troops approached the
French position, and encouraged by their leader, a fanatic Shereef,
allied by birth to the Sultan’s family, gave way to their impetuous
zeal. With menacing shouts and gestures they reached the French lines.
They fired into the French entrenchments. Lamoricière and Bedeau
displayed the French standards and marched against them. Quickly
defeated and dispersed, the enemy fell back upon Ouchda.
On the 11th of June, Marshal Bugeaud arrived at the camp. He proposed an
interview between himself and El Ghenaoui, and the arrangement was
accepted. The interview was fixed for June 11th. Distrust prevailed on
either side. Each party came towards the ground with a large body of
troops. In presence of both armies, the chiefs advanced towards each
other, accompanied by a small escort.
Scarcely had the conference begun when the Moorish cavalry were observed
to be breaking ground and closing in upon the scene of parley. With
cries of insult and defiance they brandished their sabres and discharged
their pistols. Bedeau withdrew with dignity, disdaining to attempt
reprisals. The main body of the enemy, mistaking this moderation for
weakness, rushed on tumultuously. The French drew up in order of battle,
waited a short time for reinforcements, and then, headed by Bugeaud,
retorted the challenge. A general engagement ensued. Again the Moors
were routed and put to flight.
Bugeaud, astounded at these acts of treachery, determined to take and
occupy Ouchda itself. He wrote to El Ghenaoui demanding an explanation.
The latter only replied in a spirit of prevarication and evasion. The
French general then sent his ultimatum. In this despatch Abdel Kader was
declared to be the sole obstacle to a renewal of peace and friendship
between France and Morocco. The genius of one man thus held the
reciprocal positions of two empires in suspense. “We wish,” wrote
General Bugeaud, “to have the same frontier limits which the Turks, and
Abdel Kader after them, possessed. We want nothing which belongs to you.
But we must insist on your no longer receiving Abdel Kader, granting him
aid and support, reviving him when he is nearly dead, and launching him
forth afresh upon us. This is not good friendship; it is war; and such
war you have been making on us in this manner for two years.
“We desire that you confine to the west of the empire both Abdel Kader’s
Deira and his principal chiefs, and that you disperse his regular
troops, both infantry and cavalry. We require also that you no longer
countenance the emigration of our tribes to your territory, and that you
immediately send back those who are already located there.
“We will bind ourselves reciprocally towards you, in the same sense,
should the occasion present itself. This is what may justly be called
the practical observance of the principle of good friendship between two
nations. On these conditions, we will be your friends, we will encourage
your commerce, and favour the government of Muley Abderahman as much as
lies in our power. If you act otherwise we shall be your enemies. Answer
at once and without evasions, for I do not understand them.”
This despatch led to no results. The Moorish army retired into the
interior; and Bugeaud occupied Ouchda, although but temporarily. The
dispute, thus commenced on the frontier, soon spread into the higher
regions of diplomacy. The French Government, in the month of June, 1844,
sent a squadron under Prince de Joinville to the coast of Morocco to
support its official reclamations. Marshal Bugeaud received instructions
to commence offensive operations by land. The bombardment of Tangiers
and Mogador, and the battle of Isly, compelled the Moorish Sultan to
carry out the views of the conquering power. France claimed no
territory, no indemnity, not even the expenses of the war. It merely
begged Sultan Abderahman, _to deliver it from Abdel Kader_. By the 4th
article of the treaty of peace which was drawn up, and signed by both
parties, it was stipulated, that “Hadj Abdel Kader is placed beyond the
pale of the law throughout the entire extent of the empire of Morocco,
as well as in Algeria. He will, consequently, be pursued by main force,
by the French on the territory of Algeria, and by the Moroccans on their
own territory, till he is expelled therefrom, or falls into the power of
one or other nation. In the event of Abdel Kader falling into the hands
of the French troops, the Government of his Majesty the King of the
French engages itself to treat him with respect and generosity. In the
event of his falling into the hands of the Moorish troops, his Majesty
the Emperor of Morocco engages himself to restrict his abode, for the
future, to one of the towns on the western coast of his empire, until
the two Governments shall have concerted such measures as will prevent
the possibility of his resuming arms, and troubling the tranquillity of
Algeria and Morocco.”
Abdel Kader, on the breaking out of hostilities between France and
Morocco, had returned to the Deira, there to watch the course of events.
Sultan Abderahman went through the formality of summoning him to Fez.
But another summons reached Abdel Kader from the Moorish capital, of a
far different nature. The defeat of their armies, the humiliating
dictation of the French, the bitter reversal of all their ardent hopes,
had filled the Moorish population with fury and resentment. All ranks
inveighed against the incapacity, and the craven weakness of their
sovereign. All demanded Abdel Kader.
Letters from the first grandees of the state, from military and civil
functionaries, from the commercial classes, informed Abdel Kader of the
general wish, implored him to rescue the empire from impending
degradation and ruin, and invited him to ascend the throne of his
ancestors.
Had Abdel Kader been a vulgar usurper, he had now only to put out his
hand to seize the sceptre of Morocco. But patriotism, not ambition, was
his ruling motive. He had taken the field for the freedom and
independence of Algeria. His thoughts, his vows, his prayers, all his
concentrated energies of body and mind, were devoted to his native land.
No offer of greatness could seduce him beyond that legitimate sphere of
action. He disdained to wear a borrowed crown.
“I refused the tempting offer so unanimously made to me,” he afterwards
said, “not only because my religion forbade me to injure a sovereign
chosen and appointed by God, but because, knowing Morocco as I did, with
its discordant races, I felt it would have cost me at least twelve or
fifteen years, not, indeed, to govern like Muley Abderahman, but to
enable me in any way to enforce submission to the law, and to make my
government respected.”
During the spring of 1844, in the hopes of embarrassing the
concentration of the French army on the frontiers of Morocco, Abdel
Kader had made a rapid incursion into the regions of the Tell,
penetrating even as far as Tiaret. Everywhere he appealed to the tribes,
convoked their chiefs, and called for contingents. But the presence of
French detachments in all directions had overawed and stupefied the
national spirit. His summons met with a feeble response. He returned to
his Deira in the deepest despondency.
In long and anxious reveries, he now examined his position; he weighed
his prospects; he questioned his conscience. Had he done all, he asked
himself, that love of country and devotion to his faith demanded? Was it
too soon to abandon all hope? Was despair criminal? He looked around on
his Deira, composed of his family and a few hundreds of devoted
followers, dependent on chance supplies for the bare means of existence,
and acknowledged that the closing scene had come.
Again his mental horizon cleared up. A grand idea presented itself to
his imagination. He would rally all the tribes of Algeria, unable to
endure the yoke of the infidels, and lead them forth in a body towards
Mecca. In this expedition he would live on terms of friendship with all
who, on their route, welcomed them as friends; and pass over the bodies
of those who opposed them as enemies.
What Arab, he argued to himself, could resist such a mighty impulse, or
fail to be electrified by such a magnificent proposal? What a glorious
spectacle would be presented by a whole people voluntarily abandoning a
land which their forefathers, twelve centuries before, had won by their
swords, rather than share it with the mortal enemies of their faith; and
bearing back the standards of the Prophet in solemn pomp and grandeur,
unsullied and uncontaminated, to the scenes and regions of their
pristine glories!
But while pondering over this gigantic scheme, fresh circumstances again
aroused him to renewed exertions. Old memories rose up before him. The
touching appeals of his devoted Khalifas still occasionally reached him;
renewed assurances of adhesion came in from time to time. His heart
vibrated and responded to the innate conviction that his name still
possessed its talismanic influence, and that his presence might yet re-
animate and inspire the breasts of thousands, now sunk in apathy and
despair. All combined in urging him to undertake the hazards of another
campaign, in spite of the fearful odds opposed to him.
From the gorges of the Djurjura, the loyal and chivalrous Ben Salem had
thus addressed his long-absent sovereign:—“How is it that you no longer
write to us? The sight of your seal, as you well know, revives all our
hopes. I assure you, your very existence is called in question; and it
is generally given out that your mother writes in your name. The French
are preparing to march upon me, and I cannot answer for the Kabyles; I
am almost inclined to believe, they are secretly of the religion of the
conqueror. If you delay coming amongst us, the misfortunes of Berkani
will be nothing compared to those with which I shall be overwhelmed.
Answer me in your own handwriting, I conjure you.”
Abdel Kader replied,—“I have received your letter, informing me, that
the news of my death is spread abroad in the east. No one can escape
death; such is the decree of the Most High. However, God be praised, my
hour is not yet come. I am yet full of force and vigour, and I still
hope to attack with energy the enemies of our religion. It is by such
proofs that men are known. Be always the same, calm, patient, unshaken,
and God will recompense you. I will come to you as soon as my affairs in
the west are settled.”
His absence being still prolonged, and disasters rapidly succeeding each
other in every quarter, his three Khalifas in the east held a
consultation as to the best measures to be adopted in such a desperate
state of affairs. Their master was not there to cheer and animate their
drooping spirits; and as they separated, Ben Allal, embracing his
colleagues, exclaimed, “May God re-unite us in another world, for I have
small hope that we shall meet again in this.” “Despair not,” said Ben
Salem, newly consoled and supported by a letter he had just received
from Abdel Kader, “I trust we shall yet all three of us meet in
Algeria.” “Perhaps so,” added Ben Allal, dejectedly, “if we submit to
the Christians, which God forbid.”
Soon after, all communication having been cut off by the French troops,
the Khalifas to the east were again without any news from Abdel Kader.
Ben Salem dispatched several chiefs of tribes to gather intelligence of
his movements. By an unexpected piece of good fortune, they found out
Abdel Kader himself. He received them with affectionate sympathy. Calm
and cheerful in the midst of his reverses, he listened eagerly to their
accounts of the embarrassments of his faithful lieutenants, and their
still untiring zeal. He consoled them with words of comfort and
assurance; and, on their taking leave, he gave them a horse richly
caparisoned, as a present to Ben Salem, with the following letter:—
“Be patient in adversity; it is that which is the touchstone of great
minds. Encourage your officials; aid and assist them; bear with their
faults of judgment; measure the extent of their capacities with charity
and consideration. This state of affairs cannot last long. I hope to be
with you speedily, and then we will come to an understanding as to the
proper course to be adopted. In the meantime, I beg you to accept the
horse which I send you: it was a present to me from Mouley Abderahman.
It may perhaps be propitious to you.”
The Arab tribes had, in some degree, viewed with satisfaction the state
of comparative repose which had succeeded to those years of constant
conflicts, in which, whoever conquered, they were sure to be the
sufferers. But the gradual establishment of French regulations amongst
them, and especially the haughtiness and severity with which they were
enforced, as well as the constant presence of French officials, too
often distinguished by that superciliousness and contemptuous display of
superiority which intimate intercourse with the eastern races generally
engenders in the breasts of Europeans, failed not again to awaken their
slumbering feelings of hatred and fanaticism.
To minds thus prepared for renewed action, the emissaries of certain
secret religious societies which existed amongst the tribes, found ready
access. The arm of the Lord, they were assured, was about to be visibly
revealed. The _Mouley Saa_, or “Master of the hour,” so long expected by
all true and fervent believers, had appeared, as they were told, and was
already in the field. “Woe be to those who hung back in doubt or fear,”
was the rallying cry of these fanatics.
The sect of the “Derkaouas,” famous above all others for their furious
and infatuated zeal, had found a tool, and boldly put him forward. In
March, 1845, Mohammed-ibn-Abdallah, surnamed Bou Maza, raised the sacred
standard in the Dahra and the valley of the Cheliff. This newly-
installed prophet preached from place to place, exclaiming, “I am the
destined one who is to appear at the hour predicted in the prophecies,
the hour of deliverance.” He pledged himself to rid Algeria of the
French within the year.
This impostor had his goat (which suggested his nickname, Bou Maza, or
“father of the goat”), as Sertorius had his bitch, through which he
pretended to receive celestial communications. He promised to all who
believed in his mission, not only the plunder of the Christians, but
also of all recreant Mussulmans. By these means he collected around him
several hundred followers, and surprised and attacked some French posts.
His successes aroused competitors. Whenever the French advanced, they
were met by Bou Maza. The fermentation was temporarily, but only
temporarily, appeased by the French. A greater personage than Bou Maza
was about to re-appear on the scene.
Abdel Kader, though not a participator in the agitation which had been
lately set on foot to excite the tribes, saw the ground prepared for
him. He resolved to reap the harvest which had been sown. He descended
into the valley of the Tafna, and routed and cut to pieces a French
detachment at Sidi Ibrahim. In this action the lower part of his right
ear was carried away by a musket ball. This wound was the only serious
one that he ever received.
Another detachment laid down its arms to him without firing a shot, at
Ain Temouchen. The collective prisoners amounted to six hundred. They
were brought before him. He consoled them in their misfortune. “Never
despair of the future,” he said; “no harm shall come to you. God has
decreed that you should fall into my power; He may yet decree your
liberation.”
The news of these successes spread rapidly abroad. Rumour magnified
their importance. All hearts beat high with expectation. Soon letters
from Abdel Kader were read and handed about with transport. In these
letters the Arabs were told to be of good cheer, since their Sultan
would soon be amongst them, and implored not to permit any partial and
ill-judged rising to defeat the common aim. The Khalifas of Abdel Kader
had received their instructions. “Let all patiently await the signal,”
it was written, “and then rush with fury on the foe before them.”
The French felt the coming storm; they recognised the genius of Abdel
Kader; the danger was imminent. Lamoricière, Cavaignac, Bedeau, pressed
the government for reinforcements. They urged the immediate return of
Bugeaud. The Marshal left France accordingly, and reached Algeria
October 15, 1845. He brought new legions. Within a week he took the
field at the head of 120,000 men. He determined, by a timely display of
unrelenting rigour, to forestall the menaced blow.
Fourteen divisions, each complete in infantry, cavalry, and artillery,
scoured the devoted land in every direction, some acting in concert,
others independently, but all crushing out resistance, wherever it
appeared, with fire and sword. Men were pitilessly slain, habitations
ruthlessly burnt, crops given over to conflagration, fugitives smothered
alive in caves. St. Arnaud led on “The Infernal Column.” Algeria once
more felt all the strength of European civilisation, but now untempered
by that mercy which ought to be its attribute.