1848-1853.
Although the republican Government of France had acquiesced in the
perpetration of this glaring act of perfidy to Abdel Kader, the
President of the Republic raised his voice in vindication of the cause
of right and justice. On the 14th of January, 1849, twenty-four days
after his election to the presidency, Louis Napoleon convened an
extraordinary council to take the subject into consideration.
In the warmest terms he pleaded the prisoner’s cause. He insisted on the
voluntary surrender, the frank and noble reliance on French honour on
the one hand, and the word pledged and the convention signed on the
other. Such language, emanating from the heir of the illustrious captive
of St. Helena, had more than the weight of a protest; it had in some
respects the sanctity of a reminiscence. Though supported by Bugeaud and
Changarnier, the President’s views were overruled. The Minister of War,
General Rulhière, refused to incur the responsibility of sanctioning the
release of Abdel Kader, and successfully opposed such a step.
Animated by feelings of esteem and sympathy for his fallen adversary,
Marshal Bugeaud now wrote Abdel Kader a letter suggesting a course
which, while it would diminish the bitter sense of captivity, would
assure him an easy and even enviable existence:—
“I would wish you to decide on adopting France as your country, and to
ask the Government to make you a grant of property, with right of
descent to your heirs. You would thus have a position equal to that of
our most influential men, and be able to practise your religion, and
bring up your children according to your wishes.
“I am aware such a prospect may have little in it to seduce you; but it
is one which ought to weigh with you, for the future of your children,
and the fate of the numerous persons who surround you. You see they are
languishing and dying of _ennui_. Were they employed on a property
belonging to you, their mode of life, on the contrary, would be pleasant
and agreeable. The cultivation of the soil would amuse them; they might
have the diversion of sporting. The pursuits of agriculture would daily
offer them fresh subjects of interest; and nothing tends more to cheer
the spirits than the sight of nature elaborated by man’s own exertions.
“Such is the sincere advice I give you, dictated by the feelings of
extraordinary interest which your misfortunes, and the great qualities
with which you have been endowed by God, has raised within me.”
Abdel Kader was inflexible. He steadily persisted in refusing to hear of
any compromise; and he thus replied:—“If all the treasures of the world
were laid out before me, and it was proposed to put them in the balance
with my liberty, I would choose my liberty. I demand neither grace nor
favour. I demand the execution of the engagements which have been made
with me.
“I demanded, as the condition of my surrender, the word of a Frenchman.
A French general gave it me without restriction and without conditions.
Another general, the King’s son, confirmed it. France was thus bound to
me as I to her. To desire to obliterate the past is now to desire an
impossibility. I will not give you back your word. I will die with it to
your eternal disgrace and dishonour; kings and people will then learn,
from my example, what confidence is to be placed in the word of a
Frenchman.”
The question of Abdel Kader’s liberation was now to all appearance
postponed indefinitely. He himself ceased to allude to it. He found
consolation in his books, his studies, and devotions. His hours were so
strictly appropriated to their respective duties, that time passed
lightly. He now occupied himself with literary composition.
Two works, one on the “Unity of the Godhead,” another entitled “Hints
for the Wise, Instruction for the Ignorant,” were the fruits of his
mental labours. The first-mentioned work is a collation and, at the same
time, an able exposition of all the arguments which support and
elucidate that vital doctrine of the Mohammedan faith. The latter is
divided into three parts. The first part treats of the advantages of
learning; the second, of religion and morality; the third, of the art of
writing and general science.
Although Abdel Kader had permission to take exercise in the park which
surrounded his prison, he never availed himself of the privilege.
Indeed, he rarely left his apartment, except to repair to the room where
his family and suite assembled for prayer. His medical man urged the
necessity of out-door exercise. “No health,” he replied, “can come to me
within the bounds of a prison. What I want is the air of liberty; that
alone can revive me.”
Time creeped on. At last came a change as joyful as it was unexpected.
Louis Napoleon, disgusted with the party jealousies which thwarted his
measures, had appealed to the national sentiment. He showed himself to
France. He visited the provinces. On arriving at Blois, he sent word to
M. Boissonet, who commanded in the Château of Amboise, situated not far
distant from that town, that it was his intention to pay Abdel Kader a
visit.
The ultimate design of the Prince President in making this visit had
been surmised by the general officers and ministers of state who were
around him. St. Arnaud and others tendered him their counsels, and
suggested caution. But the Prince was resolute. The necessity of
vindicating the national honour, too long tarnished by breach of faith,
prevailed in his mind over every other consideration. On the 16th of
October, 1852, the Prince and his suite drove in carriage to the Château
of Amboise.
On the way he had written out in pencil the following document:—
“ABDEL KADER,
“I am come to announce to you your liberty. You will be conducted to
Broussa, in the Sultan’s territory, as soon as the necessary
arrangements can be made. The French Government will give you a
pension worthy of your former rank.
“For a long time your captivity has caused me real distress. It
constantly reminded me that the Government which preceded mine had not
fulfilled its engagements towards an unfortunate enemy; and in my eyes a
great nation is humiliated, when it so far mistrusts its own power as to
break its promise. Generosity is always the best counsellor; and I am
convinced that your residence in Turkey will in nowise affect the
tranquillity of my possessions in Africa.
“Your religion, as well as mine, inculcates submission to the decree of
Providence. Now, if France is supreme in Algeria, it is because God has
so willed it; and the nation will never renounce the conquest. You have
been the enemy of France, but I nevertheless am ready to do ample
justice to your courage, your character, and your resignation in
misfortune. I, consequently, feel it to be a point of honour to put an
end to your imprisonment, and to entertain a complete reliance on your
word.”
Overpowered with gratitude, Abdel Kader poured forth his heartfelt
thanks. His aged mother begged to be allowed to see the generous and
noble-minded ruler, who had shed such joy and consolation through her
household; and on being presented to Louis Napoleon, covered him with
her benedictions. After hastily partaking of the “couscoussu,” the
national dish of Algeria, the Prince departed. As he disappeared in the
distance, Abdel Kader turned to his followers and said, “Others have
overthrown and imprisoned me, but Louis Napoleon alone has conquered
me.”
Abdel Kader was now desirous of doing homage to his deliverer in the
capital. He obtained permission to go to Paris, and arrived there
October 28th, 1852. A worthy reception had been arranged for him by
order of the Prince. A popular demonstration awaited him. Crowds
thronged the streets through which he passed, and gazed at him with
mingled pride and curiosity. The feelings of a warlike people were
gratified by his presence; but respect for the great military renown of
the Arab chief was the prevailing motive.
The very evening of his arrival, Abdel Kader was invited to visit the
Grand Opera. He excused himself at first on account of fatigue; but,
being told that the Prince was to be there, he consented to go. He was
conducted to the box in which the Prince sat. Abdel Kader stooped to
kiss hands, but the Prince, amidst loud applause, embraced him. Then,
placing the ancient enemy of France by his side, he showed him the most
marked attention.
An invitation was now given to Abdel Kader to visit the Prince President
at the palace of St. Cloud; and thither, accordingly, he went on the
30th October, accompanied by his equerry Kara Mohammed, Ben Allal,
nephew of his celebrated Khalifa Sidi Embarak, Sidi Kudoor, and a staff
of French officers especially deputed to escort him. He arrived a few
minutes before the time appointed for his audience. There was a clock in
the waiting room, which he was told indicated the exact time of day at
Mecca. Delighted with the incident, he set his own watch by the time of
the Holy City of his faith. He found it was exactly the hour for
afternoon prayer; and in the presence of all assembled he knelt down and
prayed.
Shortly afterwards he was presented to the Prince President, who stood
surrounded by his great officers of state. The ceremony over, Abdel
Kader asked permission to say a few words. Leave having been granted, he
thus expressed himself, not without considerable emotion.
“Highness, I am not accustomed to your usages. Perhaps I am about to
commit a fault; but I wish to express my sentiments to you, and the
exalted personages I see around me. Others have made promises which they
have not fulfilled. Your Highness has fulfilled engagements which you
had not contracted. Thanks to your generosity, I shall be enabled to go
and live in a Mussulman country. Words vanish like the winds. Writing is
durable. I offer your Highness this paper. It contains a written
promise.”
He then placed the following declaration in the Prince’s hands:—
“Praise be to the One God!
“May God ever continue to protect and preserve our lord, Louis Napoleon,
and guide and direct his judgment.
“He who presents himself to you is Abdel Kader, the son of Mehi-ed-deen.
I come before your Highness to thank you for your bounties, and to
gratify myself with a sight of your countenance. You are, in fact,
dearer to me than any other friend, for you have conferred on me a
benefit which exceeds my power of thanking you, but which is worthy of
the nobleness of your character, and the splendour of your position. May
God glorify you.
“You are of the number of those who neither make useless protestations,
nor deceive by falsehood. You have had confidence in me. You have not
listened to those who mistrust me. You have given me liberty; and,
without having made me any promises, you have fulfilled engagements
which others made with me without fulfilling them.
“I come then to swear to you, by the covenant and promises of God, and
by the promises of all the prophets and messengers, that I will never do
anything contrary to the trust you have reposed in me, and that I will
religiously keep this my oath never to return to Algeria. When God
ordered me to arise, I arose. I employed gunpowder to the utmost extent
of my means and ability. But when he ordered me to cease, I ceased. It
was then that I abandoned power and surrendered.
“My religion and my honour alike ordain me to keep my oaths and to scorn
deceit. I am a _shereef_, and no one shall ever accuse me of treachery.
How, indeed, could that be possible to me after having received such
great benefits at your hands? A benefit is a golden chain thrown over
the neck of the noble-minded. I venture to hope that you will deign to
think of me even when I am far away, and that you will place me on the
list of your intimate friends; for although I may not equal them in
their services, I at least equal them in their affection towards you.
May God increase the love of those who love you, and strike terror into
the hearts of your enemies.”
To this solemn protestation Louis Napoleon replied,—
“Abdel Kader, I never mistrusted you. I had no need of this written
paper which you so nobly offer me. I never demanded from you, as you
know, either promise or oath. You have chosen, nevertheless, to draw up
and deliver into my hands this document. I accept it. This spontaneous
avowal of your sentiments and feelings proves to me that I was right in
placing unlimited confidence in you.”
When the audience was over, Abdel Kader was shown all the apartments of
the palace, and then taken to see the Prince’s stud. He particularly
admired a magnificent white Arab horse. “The horse is yours,” said the
Prince, who was present. “I hope it will make you forget that you have
been so long without one. You must try it with me in the park to-morrow,
at a review of cavalry, which I have ordered expressly in your honour.”
Abdel Kader mounted his new steed the following day, and rode by the
side of the Prince to the review. To a courteous inquiry from the latter
as to the health of his aged mother, Abdel Kader replied with animation,
“During my captivity my mother required a staff to bear the weight of
her body, bent down with years; but since I am free, by your Highness’s
generosity, she has thrown off the weight of years and walks without
support.”
Abdel Kader was present at another grand review at Versailles. He dined
with the Prince twice. All the ministers gave him grand entertainments,
and he daily received visits from statesmen, generals, and men of
science. He was mostly touched, however, by the visits of several
officers who had formerly been his prisoners, and who had come to thank
him for the kindness and attention they had received at his hands during
their captivity.
Abdel Kader afterwards visited all the public edifices of Paris. On
entering the church of the Madeleine, he said to the priest who
accompanied him, “When I first began my struggle with the French I
thought they were a people without religion. I found out my mistake. At
all events, such churches as these would soon convince me of my error.”
He then asked to be taken to the residence of his old friend M. Dupuch,
Bishop of Algiers. “Having consecrated my first visit to God,” he said,
“the next should be to the best of his servants.”
Going through the Notre Dame, he stopped to examine all the marvels of
art and relics which it contains, with an attention which, as coming
from a Mussulman, surprised the bystanders. Its sculptures, its
paintings, the mantle worn by Napoleon I. at his coronation, and the
piece of the true cross given by Baldwin to Louis XII., all successively
engaged his attention.
On arriving at the Hôtel des Invalides, the first request of Abdel Kader
was, as usual, to be taken to the church. The temple where the Deity was
worshipped was invariably the first place to which he directed his
steps. He viewed with a soldier’s interest and satisfaction the numerous
flags with which it was adorned. Amongst them were some of his own
standards. When his eye fell on them he gazed on them for a while in
silence, and then quietly observed, “Those times are past. I wish to
forget them. Let us always endeavour to live in the present.”
At the tomb of Napoleon he again paused long. At length he spoke: “All
that the genius of man and the wealth of the world could possibly do,”
he said, “would be merely to give this tomb a pale reflex of that
greatness which filled the world with its glory.” As he turned away he
remarked, “I have now seen what was mortal of the great captain; but
where is the place where his name is not still living?”
The hospital particularly struck him. The patients stood up as he passed
by. One old soldier had even risen with pain and difficulty from his
bed, as a mark of respect to the great warrior. Abdel Kader stopped
before him, shook him by the hands, and made him the following
address:—“How worthy it is of a great people thus to watch over the old
age of its brave defenders, and to employ the best medical advice for
the cure of wounds received in the country’s defence! I have seen the
tomb of Napoleon, and touched his sword; and I should leave this place
completely happy were it not for the thought that there may be some here
who have been disabled by me or mine. But I only defended my country;
and the French, who are just and generous, will pardon me, and perhaps
admit that I was an open and honest enemy, one not altogether unworthy
of them.”
The Museum of Artillery and the imperial printing establishment were the
next objects of his inspection. The autographic press produced under his
very eyes, to his intense astonishment, a facsimile of the document he
had presented to the Prince. After minutely watching the process of
printing, and the marvellous rapidity with which impressions were thrown
off, he exclaimed, “Yesterday I saw the batteries of war—here I see the
batteries of thought.”
Abdel Kader had now a parting interview with Louis Napoleon. The Prince
announced his intention of presenting him with a sword of honour. “But,”
he added, “I wish it to be worthy of you; and I regret that,
notwithstanding the diligence of the workmen, I shall not be able to
give it you before your departure for Broussa.” The blade of this sword,
which Abdel Kader afterwards received, is of the time of the Abassiades,
who flourished at the commencement of the Mohammedan era. On it have
been inscribed the words—“The Sultan Napoleon III. to the Emir Abdel
Kader, son of Mehi-ed-deen.” The next day Abdel Kader returned to
Amboise.
On the 21st of November the French people were called upon to elect an
emperor. Abdel Kader claimed the right of suffrage. By a singular
coincidence, the day was the anniversary of that on which, twenty years
before, he had himself been elected Sultan of the Arabs. His claim was
admitted, and a ballot-box was made expressly for the occasion. In this
box he deposited his own vote and those of twelve of his suite.
Abdel Kader returned to Paris to be present at the proclamation of the
empire. He stood amidst the great officers of state and public
functionaries who assembled at the Tuileries to offer the Emperor their
congratulations. As soon as the latter perceived him he went up to him,
shook him by the hands, and said, “You see your vote has brought me good
luck.” “Sire,” replied Abdel Kader, “my vote is of no value but as it is
the interpreter of my heart.”
On the 11th of December, Abdel Kader, with his family and suite, left
Amboise for the East. The same attention and hospitality which had been
shown to him in Paris awaited him in all the provincial towns through
which he passed. At Lyons, the Comte de Castellane gave him a splendid
reception. A banquet was offered to him, and a review of the garrison
held in his honour. When Abdel Kader approached the lines he was saluted
with military honours. Delighted with this unexpected mark of respect,
he turned to the noble marshal who rode by his side, and exclaimed, “The
Emperor gave me liberty, but you have adorned her with garlands.”
On the 21st of December, Abdel Kader embarked on board the _Labrador_
for his final destination. The steamer touched at Sicily. He landed,
and, attended by the governor, made a tour in the interior. He ascended
Etna. At his departure he addressed a letter of thanks to that officer,
in which he thus records his impressions of what he had seen:—“We have
everywhere met with the traces of the various populations who have
inhabited your island. The sight made us reflect that God is indeed the
Lord of the universe, and that He gives the land to whom He wills. The
mountain of fire is truly one of the wonders of the world. On viewing
from its heights the highly cultivated and thickly populated plains
which spread out before us, we thought of the Arab poet’s lament on the
evacuation of Sicily by the Saracens, ‘The recollection of you, O plains
of Sicily, from the heights of Etna, makes my despair! If my tears were
not salt, they should make rivers of water for this glorious island. An
inhabitant of Paradise only is fit to recount the wonders of Sicily.’”
Abdel Kader arrived at Constantinople, January 7, 1853. On landing he
went directly to the grand mosque of Tophané, filled with joy and
gratitude at finding himself once more in a temple of the Prophet. The
French ambassador gave a grand entertainment in his honour, to which the
principal personages of the Frank society were invited. This act of
hospitality closed the social relations of Abdel Kader with the
civilised world. During his passage through it, his worth, his genius,
his honour, had been magnanimously recognised in one long ovation. He
was now in a capital where barbarism is harlequinised into a constrained
semblance of European civilisation.
He visited the Turkish ministers. They received him with ill-feigned
demonstrations of civility and respect. Policy alone made them outwardly
courteous. Such is the eradicable arrogance and self-sufficiency of the
Turks, that they despise all races alike but their own. Utter strangers
to noble sentiments, and scorning to admit the possibility of there
being anything in the world more important than themselves, they
regarded the attentions paid to Abdel Kader (despite his glorious
struggles for their common faith) with jealousy and even derision. His
fame oppressed them. An Arab hero was, in their minds, an incongruity,
an impertinence.