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THE
FRENCH IN ALGIERS.
THE
SOLDIER OF THE FOREIGN LEGION;
AND THE
PRISONERS OF ABD-EL-KADER.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN AND FRENCH BY
LADY DUFF GORDON.
_NEW EDITION._
LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
1855.
PREFACE.
Clemens Lamping, the author of the first part of this little volume,
is a young lieutenant in the Oldenburg service, who, tired of the
monotonous life of a garrison, resigned his commission in July, 1839,
and went to Spain to win his spurs under Espartero. Unfortunately he
was detained by contrary winds, and arrived just as the treaty of
Bergara had put an end to the war.
After spending six months at Madrid in abortive attempts to join
the army in Arragon, then the seat of war, he resolved to go to
Africa, and take part in the French crusade against the infidels.
He accordingly went to Cadiz, encountering many adventures on his
way through La Mancha and Andaluzia, and thence to Algiers, where he
entered the foreign legion as a volunteer.
After two years of danger and hardship, the author returned to
Oldenburg, having lost many illusions, and gained some experience.
His sovereign restored him to his former grade in the service of
Oldenburg, where he sits at his ease by his own fireside, and relates
his adventures to his friends.
Lieutenant Lamping’s Reminiscences are followed by the abridgement
of a narrative of five months’ captivity among the Arabs, by M. de
France, a lieutenant in the French navy. The author modestly assures
his readers that he is better skilled in the management of a ship than
of his pen, and that his book would never have been published but
at the request of his friends. It has nevertheless reached a second
edition in France.
L. D. G.
CONTENTS.
————
THE SOLDIER OF THE FOREIGN LEGION.
CHAPTER I.
Page
Coleah—Arab Coffee-houses—The Hakim’s—Court of Justice—Arab Women
and Domestic Life—Marriages—False alarm—Sofi the Modern
Hâfiz—Grief for the departed glory of the Moors—Abubekr’s piety
rewarded 1
CHAPTER II.
Algiers—The Poetry of the Galleys—Bath—Palace at Mustapha
Superieur—General Von Hulsen—I join the Foreign Legion—French
colonization in Africa—Hassan, the coffee-house keeper 15
CHAPTER III.
Dschigeli—The Foreign Legion—Climate—Attack of the Kabyles on the
Blockhouses—Massacre of a Kabyle Village—Samoom—Homeric Fight—Death
of my Friend—Fort Duquesne—Formidable Starfish—Shipwreck—Engagement
with the Kabyles—Escape of the Prisoners—Burial of their Dead 22
CHAPTER IV.
Budschia—Monkeys—March to Buterback—General Bugeaud—Algiers—Lord
Exmouth and the Dey—Progress of civilization and jollity among the
Arabs of both sexes—Songs 34
CHAPTER V.
March to Delhi Ibrahim—Horrible scene—Blidah—_Colonne
Expéditionnaire_—Dukes of Nemours and Aumale—Pass of the Col de
Mussaia—Medeah—Arab burial-grounds—Marabout in the mountains—Taking
of Callah—March through the Desert—Destruction of Abd-el-Kader’s
castle—Milianah—Night march—Sight of the Sea 41
CHAPTER VI.
Arab Valour—Abd-el-Kader—Snakes—Burning the Crops—Roman Bridge—The
Duke of Aumale falls sick—Plundering of a Kabyle Village—The
Prisoners—The Queen’s Tomb—Her royal crown—Inexpediency of turning
the sword into a ploughshare 64
CHAPTER VII.
Inspection of our Regiment—Military intendants—_Hôpital du Dey_—Its
inmates—Eastern Garden 76
CHAPTER VIII.
Voyage to Mostaganem—Storm—Funeral at sea—Landing—Bivouac
Matamon—Bey of Mostaganem—Arabic music—Captain Lièvre—African
spring—French and Arab Soldiers 79
THE PRISONERS OF ABD-EL-KADER.
CHAPTER I.
Page
Life on board the brig—Expedition up the country—Am noosed by the
Arabs—They contend for the pleasure of cutting off my head—Adda
sends me to Abd-el-Kader—The head—Painful journey—Arrival at
Abd-el-Kader’s camp 93
CHAPTER II.
Reception at Abd-el-Kader’s camp—Description of Abd-el-Kader—His
tent—Unexpected meeting with M. Meurice—Abd-el-Kader’s officers 100
CHAPTER III.
Meurice’s story—The camp and the soldiery—The Adventures of a
German renegade—Arab horses—Prayers—The Sultan’s band of music 106
CHAPTER IV.
French deserters—Sardinian prisoners—Their story—Letter to
Algiers—Raising the camp—Abd-el-Kader—The only cannon—The Bey of
Mostaganem—Return to El-Kaala 113
CHAPTER V.
Method of cooling a tent—Abd-el-Kader’s munificence—Tribute paid
in kind—A good dinner—Coffee—Supplies from Morocco—Letter from
General Létang—Arab foray—Prisoners—The beautiful black slave girl
120
CHAPTER VI.
Revolt of Abd-el-Kader’s uncle—His letter—Jews—Attack on the
Beni-Flitas and Houledscherifs—Horrible execution of a
prisoner—Vermin—Tekedemta—Letter from the Arab prisoners at
Marseilles 127
CHAPTER VII.
Ruins of Tekedemta—Abd-el-Kader’s schemes—Attempt to convert
me—More tribute—Terms of Exchange—Tumblers and Singers—Restoration
of Tekedemta 134
CHAPTER VIII.
Marches—The five marabouts—Cards and chess—Night March—The
Sultan’s arrival at the camp—His wife—Female camp—Raka the
cup-bearer—Abd-el-Kader’s Court of Justice 141
CHAPTER IX.
Offers of exchange—Report of the death of the King of
France—Festivities—Sham fight—Two French soldiers—M.
Lanternier—Meurice gets worse—Baths at Mascara—Lanternier’s
prison—His wife and daughter sent to the Emperor of Morocco—Little
Benedicto 149
CHAPTER X.
Prison at Mascara—Death of Meurice—Lanternier joins us—Four new
prisoners—Their adventures—Our way of passing our time—Conversation
of the Prisoners—Fourteen heads—The Italians 158
CHAPTER XI.
Departure from Mascara—Striking scene—Milianah—Moussa the
renegade—His letter—The Rhamadan—Delays—The Bey of Milianah—Setting
out for Algiers—The Bey’s daughters—First sight of Algiers—Fresh
delays and disappointments—The Hakem’s hospitality—Arrival at
Algiers—Benedicto—The Arab prisoners at Marseilles 165
THE FRENCH IN ALGIERS.
================
CHAPTER I.
Coleah—Arab Coffee-houses—The Hakim’s—Court of Justice—Arab Women and
Domestic Life—Marriages—False Alarm—Sofi the Modern Hâfiz—Grief for
the Departed Glory of the Moors—Abubekr’s Piety rewarded.
Coleah, September, 1841.
At last, my dear friend, after so many hardships and such various
wanderings, I have leisure to write to you; and I have much, very
much, to tell. The events of my life have lately followed each other
in such rapid succession, that the dangers and sorrows of the noble,
much-enduring Odysseus, nay, even the immortal adventures of the
valiant Knight of La Mancha, are mere child’s play in comparison with
my own.
Since the month of April we have scarce had time to take breath; so
rapidly did expedition follow expedition, and _razzia razzia_. The
new Governor, Bugeaud, naturally enough wishes to show that he is
equal to his post. His predecessor, Vallée, drew upon himself the
imputation of indolence, but no one can deny to Bugeaud the possession
of great energy and untiring activity. He encounters the Arabs with
their own weapons, harassing them with incessant attacks, and burning
and plundering the whole country. We have made two very important
expeditions; the first against Thaza, a strong fortress belonging to
Abd-el-Kader, situated on the borders of the desert. After destroying
this place, we returned through the iron gates (_portes de fer_) to
our own camp; this expedition occupied about four weeks. A few days
afterwards we started again to throw provisions into Milianah, and
to lay waste the plains of the Chellif with fire and sword. It was
exactly harvest time. In order to cut off from the Bedouins all means
of existence, it was of course necessary to drive away their cattle
and to burn their corn. Before long the whole plain looked like a sea
of fire.
These expeditions, sent out in the very hottest season of the year,
had such an effect upon the health of the soldiers, that the Governor
was compelled to allow them a short rest. The regiment to which
I belonged had scarcely a third part fit for service, the other
two-thirds were either dead or in the hospital. We were accordingly
sent to Coleah to recruit our strength.
You will have a tolerably correct idea of our recruiting quarters when
I tell you that one day is passed on guard, another in reconnoitring
the enemy for several hours, and the third in working at the dry ditch
(a sort of _pendant_ to the great wall of China) intended to defend
the plain of the Metidja against any sudden attacks of the Hadjutes.
I assure you, however, that we think this life vastly agreeable, and
consider ourselves as well off as if we were in Abraham’s bosom. There
was a time, indeed, when I should not have been quite so contented
with my lot, but every thing is relative in this best of all possible
worlds.
Coleah is a true Arab town, which stands on the south-eastern
declivity of the Sahel range of mountains, in a charming little nook,
and is well supplied with water.
We are only twelve leagues from Algiers and about three from the sea,
the proximity to which makes the place extremely healthy. The constant
sea breeze renders the heat even of this season quite tolerable.
At our feet is stretched the vast plain of the Metidja bounded by the
blue hills of the lesser Atlas range. We are quartered in a fortified
camp outside the town, on a small eminence which commands it. Of
course all the gates of the town and the market-place are guarded by
our troops. My leisure hours, which, indeed, are not too many, are
generally passed in sauntering about the streets.
The inhabitants of Coleah are pure descendants of the Moors, and still
retain some traces of their former refinement; you must not confound
them with the Bedouins and Kabyles, who always have been, and still
are the lowest in point of civilisation. I have nowhere found the Arab
so polished and so attractive as at Coleah, not even at Algiers and
Oran; in those towns, their intercourse with the French has called
forth all their rapacity, and spoiled the simplicity of their manners.
It is a remarkable fact that in all these towns near the sea the
Spanish language is still spoken, of course in a most corrupt dialect;
a proof that some connection with Spain has constantly existed—often,
no doubt, a very reluctant one on their parts: as in the reign of
Charles V., who conquered great part of this coast.
To me this is very welcome, as it enables me to talk with the Arabs;
it is not however easy to enter into conversation with them, as they
are almost always silent and reserved towards strangers. In order to
get them to talk it is necessary first to inspire confidence.
All my spare time is passed in the Arab coffee-house, the resort of
the fashion and aristocracy of Coleah, and I have already succeeded
in making some acquaintances. I have even obtained marks of evident
goodwill from them by my earnest and sympathising attention to
their singers and story-tellers, who never fail to attend the best
coffee-houses.
The clerk of the Hakim (the chief magistrate) is a great friend of
mine. He is an exceedingly well-informed man, and with you he would be
called “Mr. Secretary.” He knows the whole Koran by heart, besides a
host of Persian poems.
Like every man of sense he is exceedingly modest, lamenting his
ignorance, and inquiring diligently into our European habits and
manners. I have occasionally had the pleasure of seeing my friend Ben
Jussuf (for that is his name) occupied in the fulfilment of his duties
as clerk. Every Friday is kept by the Arabs as a holiday on which
markets are held and judgments given. On this day the Hakim sits in
the public place before the great coffee-house, and holds his court;
on his right hand stands his clerk who commits his judgments to paper,
and on his left the executioner who inflicts the punishments awarded
by the Hakim on the spot. This generally consists in some fifty or
hundred strokes of the bastinado, and sometimes even in death; the
latter, however, only for political offences, such as treasonable
correspondence with the enemy, &c. Should the case be doubtful, the
Hakim orders a certain number of strokes of the bastinado to be given
to both parties, and takes to himself the object of contention,
generally a sheep or a donkey—a proceeding only differing from our
own inasmuch as it has the great advantage of being more summary.
If any one is too profuse in his excuses, the Hakim says to the
executioner, “Give my comrade (among the Arabs every one is a comrade)
some thirty strokes of the bastinado, to teach him not to confuse me
any more with his ingenious evasions.” In this country, you see, an
advocate’s fees would not be very high.
Coleah is held in great reverence by the Arabs as it contains
Abd-el-Kader’s vault, in which are deposited the bodies of several
members of his family. The French have spared this tomb, in
consideration of which Abd-el-Kader has vowed never to attack the town
or its immediate neighbourhood.
The Hakim belongs to the family of the Emir, and is very rich: the
sheath and handle of his yataghan are of pure gold, and his horses
the finest I ever saw. He is the ideal of a noble Arab—terrible to
his enemies, hospitable and munificent to his friends, and especially
charitable to the poor. I have seen him during the great fast, when
the Mahomedans may eat nothing till after sunset, call together some
thirty beggars every evening before his door, bring them food, and
wait upon them himself with the help of his three grown up sons.
The beggars feasted upon kuskussu (porridge made with barley meal)
and baked mutton with great dignity and grace; and when they were
satisfied they rose, kissed the Hakim on the shoulders and cheeks,
and departed. The most contradictory qualities are often united in
the Arab nature—harshness and benevolence, cruelty and generosity,
rapacity and munificence: we should beware how we condemn them without
further knowledge of their character, and we must on no account
measure them by our Christian and European standard.
The great fast of the Mahomedans, which lasts forty days, began a
few days ago. During all this time the Arabs eat nothing during the
whole day, and are especially enjoined by the Prophet to be constant
in devotion and to give freely to the poor:—and the Arab is a very
strict observer of all his religious duties. Three times a day, at
the hours of sunrise, mid-day, and sunset, the loud voice of the
marabout, or priest, is heard from the minaret of the mosque summoning
the faithful to prayer.
The moment the Arab hears the call of the marabout he throws himself
upon the earth, wherever he may chance to be, and touches the ground
with his brow, then rising again he stretches his arms toward heaven
with his face turned in the direction of Mecca. His white flowing
bernouse and his long beard give him a venerable and patriarchal air.
Thus, surely, did Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob worship their God. The
Arab has no hesitation in performing his devotions in the presence
of the crowd, and is totally without either the false shame or the
religious hypocrisy of an European.
Most Mahomedans wear a rosary of beads, which they tell while
repeating sentences out of the Koran; to this is usually appended
a large brass comb, with which they comb their beards during their
orisons with the most solemn earnestness. The impression produced by
this on Europeans is highly comical, but to the Mahomedan it seems
natural enough, as any purification of the body, such as combing and
washing, are to him in themselves religious acts.
They are by no means behind us in superstition, and frequently hang,
as an amulet round the neck of a favourite horse, a leathern bag
containing some verses out of the Koran, to protect them from evil
machinations.
The Arab is great and admirable at the hour of death. I have seen many
Arabs die, but never did I see one beg his life or utter any unmanly
complaint. When his hour is come he recommends his soul to Mahomed,
and dies.
They have physicians only for external injuries or for fevers
incidental to the climate: when one of them is attacked by an internal
disorder or by the decrepitude of age, his relations quietly leave him
to his fate, and no one troubles his head about him again.
It was but a few days ago that I saw an Arab die thus on the threshold
of his own house: he had already lain there some days with his
bernouse drawn over his head. When he felt the approach of death he
exclaimed with a loud voice, “Mahomed! Mahomed!” and died.
The burial is conducted much in the same manner as with us. The
corpse, rolled in a mantle, and with the face uncovered, is borne to
the grave by four men. The priest who walks before it sings a song
to which the others respond in chorus: but their song is cheerful,
and their step quick; for the departed has quitted the hardships
and sorrows of this life, and now rests in Paradise beside a shady
fountain, served by women whose beauty is unfading.
After the corpse has been lowered into it, the tomb is carefully
bricked up, in order to prevent the jackals and hyænas from scratching
up the body. The mourners then sit round the grave, and one of the
near relations of the deceased gives to every one present a piece of
bread and some fruit.
* * * * *
The fair sex is not altogether fair here, at least in my opinion. No
one can deny that the Arab women have graceful figures and regular
features, but they want those essential requisites of beauty—a soul
and individual expression. They are all exactly alike, and their faces
express but two passions—love and hate; all nicer shades of feeling
are wanting. How, indeed, would it be possible for them to acquire
intellectual or bodily cultivation, when the greater part of their
time is spent seated cross-legged grinding corn in a hand-mill, or
asleep?
The married women are seldom seen out of their houses, and then only
closely veiled. The young girls, on the contrary, are to be found
every morning at sunrise outside the gate of the town, standing by the
fountain, at which they assemble with stone jars on their shoulders,
to fetch water for the day’s consumption. This truly Eastern scene
calls to mind Rebecca at the well, drawing water for her father’s
flocks.
If a stranger asks a daughter of the town to give him a draught of
water (_alma_), the maiden reaches him the jar with a kindly nod; but
when he has slaked his thirst she pours away the remainder and draws
fresh water, for the lips of the infidel have polluted it.
The Arab women wear a white woollen garment confined under the breast
by a girdle, and a white cloth twisted round the head. Their ornaments
generally consist in rings in their ears and on their ankles, which
are invariably naked. One cannot deny the efficiency of this graceful
manner of calling attention to the beauty of their feet, which are
truly exquisite. These rings, among women of the lower class, are of
silver; among those of the higher class (and here, as in every other
country, there are distinctions of class), they are of gold.
A few days ago my friend Ben Jussuf invited me to go with him to his
house. I, of course, seized with joy this opportunity of seeing him in
his domestic circle.
He knocked at the door, which is invariably kept shut by day and by
night in all Arab houses, a woman shortly appeared and inquired who
was there; at Ben Jussuf’s answer the door was opened, but when the
woman saw me with her husband she instantly concealed her face, and
was about to run away; my friend, however, commanded her to remain.
She was his wife, and besides her he had two others, who were seated
cross-legged in the court, one of them grinding corn in a hand-mill,
the other combing the hair of a boy about five or six years old. I
should have guessed them all three to be at least forty, but Ben
Jussuf assured me that they were all under five-and-twenty; their
faces and figures were withered, and the bloom of youth quite gone,
their eyes alone still retained their fire. At twenty the Arab women
begin to fade, and at thirty they are old matrons.
They all seemed to live in perfect harmony, and the manner of the
women towards their lord and master was obliging even to servility. To
judge by appearances, it must be easier to keep house with three wives
than with one; perhaps the rule “_divide et impera_” holds good in
love as well as in politics, I must however confess that I do not envy
the Mahomedan gentlemen their frigid joys, nor do they seem to find
much satisfaction in them themselves.
The women here are mere slaves; of that chivalrous homage paid by the
Spanish Moors to their women no traces are left save in the songs and
poems of the Arabs.
The children are educated by women up to their seventh year; on
reaching that age the boy is put in possession of a bernouse and
a pony, and is no longer allowed to eat with the women; should his
father be away he has supreme authority over the whole household, not
excepting his own mother.
The manner of arranging a marriage is very simple among the Arabs. A
man takes a sum of money or any article of value, and offers it to
whomsoever he happens to meet with, saying, “Comrade! I hear you have
a marriageable daughter, give her to me as a wife, and take this as
a marriage gift.” If the other thinks the match a suitable one, he
replies, “Yes: here she is, take her with you;” and the marriage is
concluded. The father must, however, warrant her to be a maid; and
if the husband finds she is not, he takes her home next morning and
demands his present back again.
* * * * *
Yesterday we made one of the most interesting reconnoitring
expeditions in which I have been engaged. These expeditions occupy
several hours, and are undertaken for the purpose of driving the
Hadjutes out of the _rayons_ of the blockhouses, and the gardens
belonging to the town. The Hadjutes inhabit the Sahel mountains to
the westward of Coleah, and are notoriously the most thievish set of
fellows in all Africa. They are the people who, on the 1st of May, cut
off the heads of about forty of our regiment at Delhi Ibrahim.
We set out before sunrise, and marched down towards the Metidja. I
was detached on one side with a dozen others, to search the thicket
with which all this country is covered. We followed a track trodden
by wild beasts, for a human foot rarely wanders in this place. We
suddenly emerged into an open space of about thirty square feet, and
as we stepped out of the thicket a large panther stood before us, at
about twenty feet distance, and gazed at us with a look of mingled
wonder and indignation as though he would say, “What seek ye in my
kingdom?” We, however, appealed to the right of the strongest—two
or three muskets were instantly levelled and discharged at him, but
with one bound the panther disappeared among the bushes. A ball or two
must have reached him, but if they do not happen to hit him on the
head, which is his only tender point, he takes no heed of them. These
beasts, and still more hyænas and jackals, abound in this district,
as is shown from the ridiculously small price which is asked by the
Arabs for the skins of these animals.
The Arab chiefs consider the skin of the tiger and the panther as one
of their principal ornaments. The head of the animal is generally
fastened to the saddle-bow, (the head and teeth are essential,) and
the skin waves to and fro with every motion of the horse, so that at a
distance one might almost imagine that some wild beast had just taken
a deadly spring upon the rider.
But to return to my reconnoitring expedition. On coming near the plain
we turned westward, to pass the gorge in which Coleah lies. As there
is no lack of water here, the most abundant vegetation prevails, and
we were delighted and astonished at the extreme richness of the scene.
The luxuriant aloe sends up its blossoms to a height of twenty feet,
and a species of sedgy rush grows as high as a moderate house.
From thence we turned towards our dry ditch, which is nearly finished,
and climbed past it up to the very top of the chain of mountains,
from whence the sea is visible. Here we found plenty of fruit trees,
on some of which the fruit was quite ripe; the pomegranates and the
figs were delicious. In this spot the commander ordered his troops to
halt. After the necessary precautions had been taken, we were allowed
to gather the fruit, and were soon scattered about the gardens in all
directions, filling our _shackos_ and pocket handkerchiefs.
After plucking some fine pomegranates, I lay down under a shady
pomegranate tree, and looked out over the sea.
I could clearly discern on the blue surface of the sea a ship whose
prow was directed towards Europe, and whose sails were filled by a
favourable breeze; the thought involuntarily occurred to me, “Would
I were on board that ship, sailing towards my own home.” This indeed
looks a little like home-sickness, but I know not why any one should
be ashamed of the feeling. Even Odysseus, the wisest of mortals, was
not ashamed to weep aloud, and to long after his paternal hearth,
his wife, and his child; and why should not I—who am the least wise
of men—honestly confess that there are moments when I also long for
those who are dear to me? Besides, I have seen nearly all there is to
see in Algeria, the future can but be a repetition of the past.
I was on the point of beginning a touching monologue—a failing I
have long been subject to—when I was startled out of my dreams by
several shots, and a cry of “_Aux armes! Aux armes!_” We all ran
to our muskets, and were ready in a moment, but the alarm proved a
false one. Some twenty Hadjutes, who were lying in ambuscade behind
a neighbouring hill, had fired several shots at our sentinels, who
thought a considerable force must be concealed there. But the moment
we showed ourselves the Hadjutes fled towards the open country, chased
by a squadron of our horse: the Arabs, however, got clear off, and the
only damage done was to my monologue, and to the ripe pomegranates
which I threw away in the hurry and confusion. It was not till about
nine o’clock, just before the oppressive heat of the day, that we
returned to Coleah.
The chief wealth of the inhabitants of this town consists in large
herds of cattle and fruit-tree gardens; it is surrounded by the most
magnificent fruit trees as far as the eye can reach. The figs and
pomegranates are now ripe, and we feast on them luxuriously. I say
we, for the most complete community of goods prevails among the Arabs
and ourselves. The soldier and the beggar are born communists. I must
say, however, that the Arabs do not seem much to relish this same
communism, for we have several times missed some of our soldiers; it
is true we found them again in the gardens, but without their heads.
The fruit here is at times extremely dangerous to the head, and when
eaten immoderately, it is equally injurious to the stomach; this is
particularly the case with the figs which produce violent thirst,
and if this is allayed with draughts of water fever and diarrhœa are
the inevitable consequences. The fig trees bear fruit three times a
year, but one of the crops is usually of inferior quality: the natives
generally gather this crop and press it into large cakes; when dry
these are exceedingly wholesome, and form, throughout the year, a
favourite dish at the Arab’s table. The pomegranate is a delicious
fruit, and much less unwholesome. The oranges are so wholesome that
any one may eat twenty a day with impunity. Unfortunately it is not
till November that they are ripe.
The wild laurel grows in great quantities near the town, and attains a
very considerable height; I can boast of having tasted the fruit of
the laurel as well as its leaf. It is about the size of a strawberry
and very sweet. The sight of a laurel tree always recalls to my mind
that noble Roman folded in his imperial mantle, with the laurel
wreathed round his bald head. Time was when I would have given the
last drop of my blood for but one leaf from this same laurel wreath;
but I have now begun to perceive that when one is no emperor but a
mere corporal of _voltigeurs_ the laurel is only good in soup.
* * * * *
All Arabs of any education or wealth assemble at the coffee-house.
To them it supplies the place of theatres and concerts, balls and
tea-parties. There they spend the whole day, sometimes staying till
past midnight. The coffee-house, like almost all other houses in the
south, is built round a square court paved with white marble, in the
middle of which plays a fountain. Round the court are two rows of
pillars supporting the women’s apartments; the rooms all look into the
court: on the outside nothing is to be seen but high dismal walls, for
the Arab does not choose that inquisitive eyes should peer into his
holy of holies.
The vine or ivy is generally trained up the house so as to shade
the whole court, and keep out the oppressive rays of the sun. Under
this natural arcade the sons of Ishmael sit on soft carpets lazily
splashing with their naked feet in the water which flows from the
fountain over the marble floor.
Here they imbibe coffee, sherbet, songs, and tales: in short, it is
a foretaste of Paradise. The coffee is not bad, only that they drink
it black and have the bad taste to reckon the grounds the best part
of the coffee. Before the slave hands one the cup, he stirs it with a
reed for fear the dregs should sink to the bottom.
The Arab is a passionate lover of music and poetry: the coffee-houses
are, therefore, never without their poets and story-tellers. Their
songs are monotonous, and they accompany them with the mandoline, as
in Andalusia. Coleah possesses the best story-teller and singer in all
Africa, so celebrated for the melody of his voice as to be called the
second Hâfiz.
I must confess that fame has not said too much in his favour. His
name is Sofi; at the age of thirteen he had the misfortune to lose
a leg in an encounter with the Hadjutes, and since that time he has
devoted himself entirely to singing and poetry. I never saw an Arab
whose countenance wore so noble an expression, or whose features
so clearly reflected the feelings of his soul. He does not usually
come to the coffee-house till after sunset: as soon as he is seated
the Arabs place themselves in a half-circle round him, with their
eyes attentively fixed upon him. After striking a few notes on the
mandoline, he began one day to recite a ballad of the great deeds and
of the downfall of the Moorish kings. It was always the same measure,
the same tune, sung now in a louder, now in a lower tone, and one
would have expected its monotony to weary the hearers: but not so;
the longer one listened, the more fascinating it became. First he
sang the conquest of Spain, the battle of Xeres, and the death of
Don Rodrigo. He then struck the cords of the mandoline more loudly,
and sang the victories of Abd-el-Rahman, and the pomp and glory of
Cordova, till the eyes of his hearers glistened. By slow degrees the
notes became softer, and his voice trembled as he sang the death of
the Abencerrages, and the shameful flight of Boabdil, the last king of
Granada. The sounds of his mandoline died away, the Arabs hung their
heads upon their breasts, and the pipes fell from their hands.
The unfeigned grief of the Moors touched me to the heart. I told my
friend Ben Jussuf, who sat next to me, that I had visited the scenes
of their former greatness, the palace of their kings—the Alhambra,
and the mosque of Cordova, the Kaaba of the west.
Scarcely had he told this to the others, when they crowded round me
begging me to tell all I had seen, and I thus became an involuntary
story-teller, with Ben Jussuf for my interpreter. I gave them an
account of the grandeur and beauty of the mosque of Cordova, its
thirteen hundred columns, and the tombs of their kings. I described
to them the Alhambra, the marble lions who keep watch at the palace
gates, the splendid hall where the Abencerrages held their feasts, and
where they were barbarously murdered. I told them that I myself had
seen the traces of their noble blood which time itself had been unable
to efface from the polished marble floor.
Overcome by the remembrance of the tragical fate of their most heroic
race, the Arabs covered their faces with their bernouses. “Young man,”
said the Hakim, kissing my forehead, “thank the Prophet that he hath
vouchsafed to thee the sight of these marvels.”
After a pause the Hakim said, “Friend Sofi, know you not some pleasant
story which may dissipate the melancholy of our comrades, who still
sit with drooping heads?” and Sofi, without further entreaty, began
the following tale.
“Far beyond Milianah, on the banks of the Mina, there once lived an
Emir, on whom Allah had bestowed every blessing. His life was pure
and blameless. He gave the fourth part of all he possessed to the
poor, and the hour of prayer was more welcome to him than the hour
of feasting. This Emir, whose name was Abubekr, had a mare which he
loved above all other things; she was white, without spot or blemish,
and more swift than the wind of the desert, and she could travel for
three days without drinking a single drop of water. One evening before
sun set, Abubekr stood by the brook cleaning his favourite mare. He
washed her neck and her haunches, addressing her by the most endearing
names, and the mare looked in his face with her soft expressive eyes
as though she understood every word he said. At this moment the
marabout called the hour of prayer from the minaret, but Abubekr heard
him not. At last the sun sank down behind mount Atlas, and the Emir
knew that the hour of prayer was past. In despair he cast himself upon
the ground and cried, ‘Woe is me, I have forgotten thee, O Lord the
creator, for the creature; have mercy upon me, and graciously accept
this sacrifice as a token of my repentance.’ Having said this, he took
his spear and plunged it into the breast of his mare, and she fell to
the earth and died. Sorrowful, but conscious of having done aright,
Abubekr returned to his dwelling, folded his bernouse about him, and
slept. And Allah appeared to him in a dream and spake to him thus,
‘Abubekr, I have proved thy heart, and have seen that thou walkest
before me justly. I desire not the sacrifices of the just, but their
good deeds, for I am gracious. Arise, thy mare liveth.’ The Emir
started up rejoicing and hastened to the door—there stood his darling
mare, and neighed joyfully at the sight of him. Abubekr prostrated
himself and touched the dust with his forehead, exclaiming, ‘Allah,
thy wisdom is infinite, but thy mercy is yet greater than thy wisdom!’”
Farewell. Next week our regiment will march to Algiers, whence it will
embark for Oran.
This letter is accompanied by a brief account of my adventures from
the day on which I landed in Africa until now.
CHAPTER II.
Algiers—The Poetry of the Galleys—Bath—Palace at Mustapha
Superieur—General Von Hulsen—I join the Foreign Legion—French
Colonisation in Africa—Hassan, the Coffee-house Keeper.
Mustapha Superieur, August, 1840.
We came in sight of the coast of Africa on the 8th of August at nine
in the morning. This was the second time I had seen it; the first was
in the straits of Gibraltar. But I now beheld it with far different
feelings. I was about to tread the land of the Bedouin and of the
Kabyle in the full enjoyment of my strength and liberty—perhaps never
to return.
The first step in life is a man’s own choice, the second is no longer
within his control but subject to foreign and often hostile influences.
You may well shake your head, dear friend, reproach me as usual with
Quixotism, and wonder how it is that the experience gained in Spain
has not cooled my ardour. I allow it is cooled, but not chilled. I
have still ardour enough left to venture—a true Don Quixote of the
nineteenth century—a crusade for civilisation and freedom. Forward,
then, and let me pass the Rubicon, without hesitation.
The steamboat strove onwards with might and main, the coast rose
higher out of the sea every moment, and before very long the glorious
bay in which lies Algiers, and the Sahel range of mountains lay clear
before us. The town itself is built in the shape of an amphitheatre
on the declivity of the Sahel hills, and when seen from a distance
looks like a huge white pyramid, for the town forms a triangle the
highest point of which is crowned by the Casabah—the former residence
of the Dey. The bay presents an enchanting scene for a few miles
eastward of Algiers. The sides of the mountains are crowded with
beautiful gardens and villas built in the noble Moorish style. On the
very ridge of the Sahel is a semicircular chain of fortified camps
and blockhouses intended to protect this fruitful district against
the inroads of the Berbers. The harbour is so small that only a few
ships can ride there, and the greater part are compelled to lie at
anchor outside in the roads. We had scarce dropped one anchor when a
number of small boats surrounded the ship to convey us ashore. The
rowers were galley slaves who, in a melancholy air, kept time to the
stroke of their oars. The subject of the song was as follows:—“An
aged galley slave, with the faded ribbon of the legion of honour on
his breast, stands on the pier and looks gloomily down upon the sea
as though he would fathom its depths with his chains. A Marshal of
France passes by and sees the ribbon on his breast. ‘Where,’ he asks,
‘did you deserve it?’ The slave answers gloomily, ‘I won it in such a
battle;’ and the Marshal recognises the man who once saved his life.
Filled with gratitude, he entreats the pardon of the king for the
unhappy prisoner, and it is granted.” This song made an indelible
impression on my mind, and convinced me that even the galleys have a
poetry of their own.
The lower part of the town which surrounds the port has already
acquired a completely European character. The streets of Babazoun
and of the Marine are as handsome and as elegant as the Boulevards
of Paris. The upper town retains its Arab colour, and is exclusively
inhabited by Moors and Jews. The streets are so narrow that it is
with difficulty that two horses can pass in them; and the Arabs have
no kind of carriages. I was beyond measure surprised at the motley
crowd with which I suddenly found myself surrounded, and fancied that
I must be in a masquerade; Arabs and Frenchmen, Jews and Italians,
Spaniards and Negroes were mixed in picturesque confusion. Next door
to an elegant French milliner, an Arab barber was shaving the heads
of his fellow-countrymen, and an Italian _restaurant_, who extolled
his maccaroni to every passer-by, was the neighbour of a Moorish
slipper-maker. Everything wore a martial aspect, troops were landing,
and horse-soldiers galloping about the streets; in short, I soon
perceived that the gay scene around me was no carnival merry-making.
In order to get rid of the uncomfortable feelings left by a sea
voyage I wished to take a bath, and asked the first man I met where
one was to be found. A good-natured, talkative Frenchman pointed out
a Moorish bath to me in the very next street and on my way thither
told me his whole life and adventures, _en passant_, which I have
been so fortunate as to forget. The bath was excellent, and cost
only one franc from first to last. After bathing me for some time in
lukewarm water, a couple of sturdy Arabs scrubbed me with brushes
and kneaded me with their fists in such a manner that I expected the
fellows would break every bone in my body. They next rubbed me with
perfumed oil, wrapped me in a bernouse, and gave me a cup of black
coffee and a pipe; the latter was lost upon me, as I do not smoke.
I departed feeling like one newly born, and resumed my ramble about
the streets. After wandering about for some time without any settled
purpose, I began to feel a certain longing after I knew not what, an
inward yearning which I would fain have satisfied; at last, just as
I was passing the shop of an Italian _restaurant_ which sent forth a
most seductive odour of fried fish, the happy thought struck me that I
perhaps was hungry. I accordingly went in and ordered a dish of fish,
which made their appearance very well fried in oil, and a bottle of
Spanish wine. My sensations were soon so agreeable that I forgot all
my good and evil fortunes, nay, almost even the reason of my presence
here. As the _restaurant_, a Neapolitan, also let lodgings, I hired a
room there for a few days, to reconnoitre the ground a little before
taking any further steps.
After having satisfied my curiosity for the present with looking at
this strange scene, I went out at the gate Babazoun (Eastern gate)
towards Mustapha Superieur, which was formerly the palace of the
Dey’s son, but now serves for a depôt of the Foreign Legion. It is
built on a declivity of the Sahel, about a league from Algiers, and
is surrounded by most exquisite fruit gardens. Traces of the former
splendor of this palace still remained, notwithstanding the ravages of
the soldiery. It is built round two large courts, the smaller of which
is adorned with sixty-four marble columns supporting most splendid
rooms, which were formerly inhabited by the Prince’s seraglio, but
are now turned into workshops for a whole company of shoemakers and
tailors.
As soon as possible I presented myself before General Von Hulsen, who
commanded the Foreign Legion, and related my former life to him. After
quietly listening to my story and my determination to enter the Legion
as a volunteer, he plainly told me that I was about to commit a great
piece of folly and to sacrifice my health and life to no purpose.
His words have proved but too true; but, unfortunately, I am not
one of those who can profit by the experience of others: I must see
everything with my own eyes and touch everything with my own hands.
The General, seeing that I was determined to stay, promised to protect
me as far as lay in his power.
Unfortunately he was killed three months after, while we were throwing
provisions into Fonduk: far too soon for me and for the Legion. He
belonged to the Pomeranian family Von Hulsen, and had served in the
French army under Napoleon.
Hulsen’s was a true German character, bold and straightforward even
to roughness; he was the only one who had the courage to protect the
interests of the Foreign Legion against the French general officers.
I was asked whether I knew how to load and fire, and on my replying
in the affirmative, I was, without further question, transferred
to the third battalion of the Legion, at that moment quartered at
Dschigeli, for which spot a transport was to sail in a few days.
Until then I was my own master, and employed these few, and possibly
last hours of liberty in strolling about the town and the surrounding
country to satisfy my curiosity. Although these were the hottest and
most unhealthy months of the year, I did not find the heat nearly so
oppressive as I had expected. The whole northern declivity of the
Sahel mountains enjoys a temperate and agreeable climate, owing to its
proximity to the sea. We hear of scarcely any illness here.
The whole coast, from Algiers as far as the fortified camp of Kouba,
was formerly inhabited by the most wealthy Turks and Moors, who spent
here in Oriental ease and voluptuous idleness the riches they obtained
by piracy. Their country houses, built in a noble style of Moorish
architecture, are proofs of the wealth of their former possessors.
These are still in good repair, and are inhabited by Frenchmen and
Spaniards who have bought them for a trifle for the sake of the
gardens of fruit and vegetables. The soil is wonderfully productive
owing to the numerous springs which rise in the mountains and water
the ground throughout the year. Traces are still found both of the
Roman and the Moorish method of irrigation. The bold arches of the
Romans have long since fallen to decay, while the modest and simple
earthen pipes of the Moors, which creep below the surface of the
earth, still convey a fresh and plentiful supply of water. These few
square miles on the Sahel form nearly the whole of the boasted French
colony in Africa; _cafés_ and canteens are their only possessions
beyond the fortified camps and the range of the blockhouses, even near
the largest towns, such as Medeah, Milianah, Mascara, &c., and these
are only supported by the military, and may therefore be said to draw
their resources from France.
During the first years of the French occupation a considerable tract
of the plains of Metidja came under cultivation. But the bad policy
and worse system of defence of the French soon ruined the colonists.
One morning, in the year 1839, Abd-el-Kader and his hordes poured down
from the lesser Atlas range and destroyed everything with fire and
sword. Those who escaped death were dragged into captivity. Since then
the colonists have lost all confidence in the Government, and it will
be very long before they recover it.
Agriculture requires perfect security of property and, above all,
personal security. Setting aside the precarious condition of the
colonists, the French are thoroughly bad settlers, and only know how
to set up _cafés_. The few good agriculturists to be found here are
either Germans or Spaniards. It is remarkable that the Spaniards, who
in their own country are so lazy that they had rather starve than
work, are here the very best agricultural labourers. Their diligence
and economy almost amount to avarice.
My favourite walk is to the Plane Tree _café_, so called from a group
of beautiful plane trees which overshadow it. A plentiful spring of
water gushes out of a rock close by, and tumbles down the hill on its
way to the sea; so that nothing is wanting to the enjoyment of an
inhabitant of the south. The house stands under Mustapha Superieur
and affords a magnificent view over the sea and the bay of Algiers.
On this spot some dozen Turks and Arabs dream away the greater part
of their lives. The owner of the _café_ is an old Turk who formerly
served among the mamelukes of the Dey. He passed some years of his
life a prisoner in Spain, where, besides corrupt and broken Spanish,
he learned to drink and swear. It was comical enough to hear this
“malignant and turbaned Turk” introduce a _caramba_ between every
other word. He told me some very remarkable facts relating to the
Dey’s government. It seems that the tribes could only be kept in any
obedience by means of a strong body of cavalry continually scouring
the country. Whenever a tribe delayed the payment of its tribute
the mamelukes came down upon them in the dead of the night, cut
down all the men and carried off the women and cattle. He was by no
means satisfied with the French mode of warfare and maintained that
they ought to have more cavalry, and that the infantry, for which he
entertained a profound contempt, were far too slow in their movements.
“The first thing in war,” said he, with a volley of Spanish oaths, “is
quickness: the French always arrive too late.” You see that my friend
the Turk is a very distinguished strategist; and I almost think it
must have been from him that Bugeaud afterwards took the hint of the
_razzia_ and the _colonne mobile_.
The old greybeard is a devoted admirer of Spanish women and Spanish
wine; when talking of either his eyes sparkled. He generally kept a
keg of Malaga hidden in his house and took a good pull at it from time
to time. When in a good humour he gave me a wink and we drank to the
health of the Spanish women. He thoroughly despised his Arab guests,
whom he called “brutos” (beasts), who were fit for nothing but to
count their beads and smoke their pipes.
You perceive that my friend Hassan is a freethinker, who has shaken
off all the restraints of the Koran. Had the Arabs suspected this
but for a moment, they would have spat in his face, and never set
foot over his threshold again; for they are strict observers of their
religious duties.
As we are under orders to start at a moment’s notice for Dschigeli, I
took leave of the Turk yesterday. He gave me his blessing and a glass
of Malaga, recommending me, above all things not to trust those dogs
of Arabs, and to beware of eating figs and drinking water.
To-morrow we embark on board a steamer bound for Bona.
CHAPTER III.
Dschigeli—The Foreign Legion—Climate—Attack of the Kabyles on the
Blockhouses—Massacre of a Kabyle Village—Samoom—Homeric Fight—Death of
my Friend—Fort Duquesne—Formidable Starfish—Shipwreck—Engagement with
the Kabyles—Escape of the Prisoners—Burial of their Dead.
Dschigeli, August, 25.
We reached Dschigeli on the 15th, after a most prosperous voyage of
thirty-six hours, which included a short stay at Budschia.
During the summer the surface of the Mediterranean is almost always
as smooth as a mirror. The blue transparent water looks so gentle and
harmless that one can scarce believe in the terrific powers which
slumber in its bosom. In the later autumn it entirely alters its
character; storms, and frequently even hurricanes, render the African
coasts the most dangerous in the world; the more so, since the whole
territory occupied by the French does not contain a single safe and
capacious harbour of refuge. Last year, the French lost in the roads
before Stora, a short distance from hence, no less than forty vessels
in one night.
The Government has endeavoured to remedy this evil by constructing
artificial harbours, and has, at an enormous cost, somewhat enlarged
that of Algiers by sinking blocks of stone and a species of cement
into the sea; but of course little can be effected in this manner.
Dschigeli, which also has only a small roadstead, is built on a rock
rising out of the sea; it belongs to the province of Constantina and
lies between Budschia and Philippeville. It is inhabited by Turks and
Arabs, who formerly drove a thriving trade in piracy. Although the
town looks like a mere heap of stones, it is said still to contain
much hidden treasure. The soldiers are already hoping for an outbreak
among the population which may afford them an excuse for pillaging
the town. This does not, however, seem very likely, as the Arabs are
on very good terms with the garrison, and not without reason, for the
Kabyles who dwell in the neighbouring mountains would not treat them
so well as the French do.
The whole district between Algiers and Dschigeli, along which runs the
high range of the Aphronne mountains, is the proper country of the
Kabyles.
The French possess no more of it than what they have enclosed within a
line of blockhouses, that is, about half a square mile. Our battalion,
the third of the Foreign Legion, forms the whole garrison: it is
commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Picolou, a Frenchman. Like the rest
of the Legion, this battalion is composed of men of all nations and
all ranks: Spaniards and Italians, Germans and Belgians, Dutchmen
and Poles, only no English. Most of them have joined the service out
of mere folly, some from political or civil offences, and a few from
misfortune.
These men are for the most part brutal and undisciplined, but ready to
encounter anything. They form a band who, under an energetic leader,
might do great things. Like all hirelings, our corps has much of the
character of Wallenstein’s camp. At first I thought that my fate was a
very tragical one, but even this comfort was soon taken from me. There
is not one among us who has not the history and adventures of his life
to tell, and the worst of all is that one is forced to confess that
there is nothing tragical which has not its comic side. I may safely
assert that I have heard more biographies in one day here than are to
be found in all Plutarch.
Nearly all the commissions in the Legion are held by Frenchmen who
look upon this as a short cut to advancement. Among the officers are
also a few Poles and Swiss; the latter of whom have joined the service
since the revolution of July. But, in general, it is very difficult
for a foreigner to attain to the rank of an officer.
Although Dschigeli lies under nearly the same latitude as Algiers, it
is far hotter and more unhealthy. Nearly half the garrison is rendered
unfit for service by fever, which makes the duty of those who are well
doubly severe. The oppressive heat has a very remarkable effect upon
all new comers, whose strength leaves them from day to day; and men,
as strong as lions before, creep about with pale yellow faces and with
voices as small as those of children. Every morning before daybreak
seven or eight corpses are secretly carried out of the town. Hitherto
I have resisted the influence of the climate, but I take more care
of myself than the rest, and do not indulge in eating fruit, &c. The
first rule of health is to follow as nearly as possible the manner of
life of the natives of foreign countries, for one may fairly presume
that they have good reasons for adhering to particular customs from
generation to generation. Most inhabitants of the north of Europe ruin
their health by persisting in the same habits abroad which they follow
in their own country.
* * * * *
September, 1840.
We spend alternately fourteen days in the town, and fourteen in
the blockhouses: the latter is by far the most interesting. The
blockhouses, placed in a semicircle on the heights surrounding the
town, are built of oak planks imported from France and of sufficient
thickness to turn a bullet. They are generally two stories high, and
are protected by a wall and a ditch. The largest are provided with two
cannons and some wall-pieces, which are of great service.
To prevent time from hanging heavy on our hands, our friends the
Kabyles come down from the neighbouring mountains to pay their
respects to us. They greet us from afar with a torrent of friendly
epithets, such as “hahluf” (swine), &c., which is quickly followed by
a shower of balls. We are no less civil in our turn, allowing them to
approach within a short distance, when we treat them to a volley of
musketry and a few discharges from the field-pieces; whereupon they
usually retire somewhat tranquillized but still vehement in abuse. We
of course have much the best of it behind our walls and ditches, but
from time to time some of us are wounded or killed.
A few days ago they attacked us with unusual fury and pertinacity.
Some time before sunrise we saw a large party of Kabyles coming
down from the mountains: as far as the eye could reach the place
swarmed with white bernouses. Every blockhouse was attacked at the
same moment. Our well-directed fire was insufficient to keep off an
enemy which pressed upon us in dense masses, and in a moment they were
close under the walls. Here they could no longer do us any damage
with their shots; but in their rage they threw huge stones over the
walls upon our heads. We made a rapid retreat into our blockhouses and
barricadoed the doors. In one moment the Kabyles climbed the outer
walls, and attempted in their blind fury to storm the blockhouses.
Some of them tried, but in vain, to throw the cannon over the walls;
and they now had the worst of the fight.
The half of our party who were in the upper story removed a plank
which was left loose for the purpose, and poured their fire down upon
the heads of the Kabyles, while some cannoneers who were with us threw
a number of hand-grenades, of which we had good store, among them.
This was rather more than they could bear, and they dispersed in all
directions, yelling fearfully; they however carried off their dead and
wounded, for the Mohamedan never leaves his comrades in the hands of
the foe.
They did not repeat their visit for several days after this.
The Kabyles, who are a strong and courageous race, inhabit fixed
dwellings, and employ themselves in agriculture as well as in
cattle-breeding. They always fight on foot, armed with a yataghan and
a long rifle which will carry almost as far as our wall-pieces.
They hardly ever attack by night, for one of the precepts of the
Koran is—neither to wander nor to wage war by night, and this they
pretty scrupulously obey; and indeed they are altogether far better
Mohamedans than we are Christians.
I need not add that on these occasions every one does his duty, for
each fights for that which he most values, namely his head. He who
falls into the hands of the Kabyles is born under no lucky planet—his
head is instantly cut off and borne away as a trophy.
The Commandant marched up into the mountains one night with the whole
garrison, to chastise the Kabyles for their insolence. We started
at midnight under the guidance of some Arabs who knew the country
and marched, without stopping and in deep silence, up hill and down
dale until just before daybreak, when the crowing of cocks and the
baying of dogs gave us notice that we were close upon a tribe. We were
ordered to halt, and two companies with a few field-pieces were left
behind on an eminence.
After a short rest we started again, and the first glimmer of light
showed the huts of the tribe straight before us. An old Kabyle was at
that moment going out with a pair of oxen to plough; as soon as he
saw us he uttered a fearful howl and fled, but a few well-directed
shots brought him down. In one moment the grenadiers and _voltigeurs_,
who were in advance, broke through the hedge of prickly pear which
generally surrounds a Kabyle village, and the massacre began. Strict
orders had been given to kill all the men and only to take the women
and children prisoners: for we followed the precept of “an eye for an
eye, a tooth for a tooth.”
A few men only reeled half awake out of their huts, but most of them
still lay fast asleep; not one escaped death. The women and children
rushed, howling and screaming, out of their burning huts in time
to see their husbands and brothers butchered. One young woman with
an infant at her breast started back at the sight of strange men
exclaiming “Mohamed! Mohamed!” and ran into her burning hut. Some
soldiers sprang forward to save her, but the roof had already fallen
in and she and her child perished in the flames.
We then returned with our booty, and it was high time, for other
tribes of Kabyles came flocking together from every side, attracted by
the noise. We were forced to retreat in such haste that we left the
greater part of the cattle behind. The fire of the companies we had
stationed in our rear with the field-pieces at last gained us time to
breathe. We however had but few killed and wounded.
A few days after, a deputation was sent by the survivors with
proposals for the exchange of the women and children against cattle,
which was accepted. It is a point of honour with the Kabyles not
to leave their women and children in the enemies’ hands. They most
conscientiously ransomed even the old women whom we would willingly
have given them gratis.
For several days we have been suffering severely from the wind of
the desert (samoom) which prevails here during the months of August
and September. This wind is scorching and impregnated with minute
particles of sand. At its approach all are filled with terror, large
drops of sweat stand on one’s brow, and the only means of escape is to
lie flat on one’s face and to hold one’s breath. Those who inhale the
air die in twenty minutes.
Fortunately the samoom only lasts from a quarter of an hour to twenty
minutes, but it returns several times a day. During its prevalence
all hostilities cease; for the natives and the very wild beasts are
subject to its influence. When surprised by this wind during a march,
all instantly halt. Camels, horses, and mules, instinctively turn
their backs to the wind and hold their noses close to the ground until
the danger is past.
* * * * *
The day before yesterday we had a hot encounter with the Kabyles,
after a fashion truly Homeric, in defence of our oxen. Our company was
ordered to escort the cattle, which are numerous, to the water.
The incessant heat had already dried up all the fountains and springs
within the line of the blockhouses, so that we were forced to drive
the cattle beyond it to a stream which flows from the mountains
and never fails. We advanced as usual _en tiralleurs_ to cover the
watering-place, but we had scarcely reached the further side of the
stream when we were greeted on all sides by yells and bullets. The
Kabyles had hidden themselves in the brushwood close by, and occupied
an eminence opposite to us. In order to make use of our strongest
weapon, the bayonet, which is much dreaded by the Kabyles, we advanced
up the hill with levelled bayonets and took it at the first attack.
But scarce had we reached the top when we received a heavy fire from
all sides, the Kabyles having surrounded us in a semicircle. In a
moment we had several killed and wounded and were forced to retreat
faster than we had advanced, the Kabyles pressing furiously on our
rear. The commanding officer exclaimed: “_Sauvez les blessés! Sauvez
les blessés!_”
A non-commissioned officer close beside me had been shot through
the jaw; he had completely lost his senses, and was reeling round
and round like a drunken man. I seized him under the arm and
dragged him towards the nearest blockhouse into which the company
retreated. We were the very last, and the Kabyles yelled wildly close
behind us while their bullets whistled in our ears; I was not hit
however, and succeeded in bringing my charge safely home, conscious
of having done my duty as a soldier and as a man. We had but just
reached the blockhouse when the _Commandant Superieur_ came up with
a reinforcement of several companies, and sent us all out again
to rescue the cattle, which by this time had all but fallen into
the enemy’s hands. The beasts were so deeply engaged in the noble
occupation of drinking that it was almost impossible to move them from
the spot.
We now repulsed the Kabyles, and at length the horsemen succeeded
in driving off the cattle. After this we came to a sort of tacit
understanding with the enemy to leave each other in peace at the
stream, for they too had to water their cattle there and might have
been seriously incommoded by us from the blockhouse.
This was my first battle in the open field, and I cannot say that it
made much impression upon me. My imagination had pictured the terrors
of the scene so vividly to me that the reality fell far short of it.
I was moreover prepared for it by all manner of perils which I had
encountered by land and by sea. I have frequently observed that men
of lively imagination (and accordingly most southerns) have a greater
dread of fancied than of real dangers. Before the decisive moment
arrives they have exhausted all the terrors of death and are prepared
for the worst. The cold phlegmatic northern, on the contrary, goes
with greater coolness into battle, but often finds it worse than he
expected.
* * * * *
I have suffered a severe loss; the only friend I had found here died
a few days ago. Similar tastes and a like fate had drawn us together.
He was of a good family at Berlin, as the high cultivation of his mind
sufficiently proved; but an unfortunate longing for excitement and
adventure had driven him from home. I am convinced that he died of
home-sickness. He had never served before, and could not, therefore,
brook this brutal and savage life so well as I could, and a fever
hastened his death. He had written to his father for money to obtain
his discharge, under the conviction that he could not endure his life
here, and was in the daily expectation of an answer. His imagination
already transported him back to his family; but he grew weaker every
day and at length had to be carried to the hospital, where I visited
him daily when my turn of service did not prevent me. When I went
yesterday and inquired after him, one of the attendants pointed to his
bed: on approaching it I found him dead. No one, not even his next
neighbour, had heard him die. He was buried next morning with no kind
of ceremony, and I followed him to the grave alone. It is well for him
that he is at peace! His spirit was too gentle to bear the sight of
all this cruelty and wretchedness. One must case one’s heart in triple
brass to bear existence here at all.
* * * * *
Since the 1st of December our company has been quartered in Fort
Duquesne, which stands upon the sea and defends the south-eastern side
of the town. This fort is built upon a rock rising so abruptly from
the sea that a few half-bastions towards the land are sufficient for
its defence. A wooden shed has been erected to shelter the garrison
from the weather.
We are uncommonly well off here, for the duty is not severe: most of
our time is spent in fishing. The coasts of Africa abound with various
sorts of fish which, to us at least, appear excellent; but indeed many
circumstances combine to make us think so. A small kind of oyster,
which is also met with in Spain, and sea-hedgehogs are particularly
abundant. We only have to take them off the rocks, to open and eat
them.
The starfish too are common here, and I have a strange tale to tell
of one. During the month of August the soldiers were in the habit of
bathing in the sea every evening, and from time to time several of
them disappeared, no one knew how. Bathing was in consequence strictly
forbidden, in spite of which several men went into the water one
evening; suddenly one of them screamed for help, and when several
others rushed to his assistance they found that a huge starfish had
seized him by the leg with four of its limbs, whilst it clung to the
rock by the fifth. The soldiers brought the monster home with them,
and out of revenge they broiled it alive and ate it. This adventure
sufficiently accounted for the disappearance of the other soldiers.
The rainy season, which generally lasts three or four months, has
already set in accompanied by hurricanes of extraordinary violence,
which fortunately last but a short time, though indeed quite long
enough to cause the death and ruin of countless sailors. A few days
ago a vessel was dashed to pieces against the very rock upon which the
fort stands. It turned out to be a French merchant brig, which had
anchored in the roads to avoid the raging of the elements. Another
night, while I was on watch, the storm increased by degrees to a
perfect hurricane; the rain came down in torrents, and the darkness
was such that it was impossible to see a yard before one’s face. In
a moment the wooden shed was unroofed, and the waves dashed over the
very top of the rock. Next morning the fragments of a vessel lay at
our feet; the roaring of the wind and waves had entirely overpowered
the crash of the shipwreck. Every soul on board had perished except
a little dog which stood wet and trembling on a jutting cliff and
was with difficulty induced to come to us: he appeared to be still
expecting his master.
The Mediterranean has scarce any tide, but the north or south wind
affects the ebb or flow on the African coast though only to the depth
of a few feet. After a few days of calm its blue waters are so clear
that the fish and seaweed, some hundred feet below, look as though one
might touch them. There is a peculiar charm in thus looking down into
the secrets of Neptune’s kingdom. I often lie for hours on a jutting
cliff, watching the crowd of fish sporting below, and the tortoises,
those drones of the sea, lazily basking on the surface of the waves.
My mind involuntarily reverted to my childhood, and to my mother’s
story of the enchanted prince whom a beautiful mermaid imprisoned in
her crystal palace deep under the sea. After a hundred years, which
passed like a few months, the charm was broken and the prince returned
upon the earth to ascend the throne of his forefathers. But, alas!
all was changed—his race was extinct and there was none that knew
him; he himself had long since forgotten the language of men. Then he
longed to return to his crystal prison and cast himself headlong into
the waves.
At times I can scarce refrain from following the example of the
enchanted prince and going to lead a harmless peaceful life with the
fish, far from the rapacious envious race of men. But even this were
vain, for under the water too there is strife, and greediness, and
ambition—every thing, in short, save calumny.
* * * * *
February, 1841.
For nearly two months we have not once been disturbed by the Kabyles,
and we should have enjoyed a state of the most tranquil peace and
content had it not been for the fleas. These bloodthirsty monsters
are indeed the most terrible enemies we have in Africa—nothing can
protect us from their hostilities. I assure you that Kabyles and
panthers, nay, even tight boots, or a bad conscience, are not to
be compared to them. They are worst in the wooden barracks and the
blockhouses. One must be worn out with fatigue in order to sleep there
at all, and then one wakes covered from head to foot with specks of
blood.
On the night of the 4th of February, contrary to their usual custom,
the Kabyles paid us a very well-meant visit. We lay in our barracks,
not dreaming of any danger, when we were awakened at eleven o’clock
at night by repeated shots, and by some bullets which came through
the deal boards of our barracks. In an instant we were dressed; each
man snatched up his musket, and went out. The shots came from a rock
to the westward of the town and only separated from it by a small arm
of the sea. By some strange neglect no blockhouse had been built on
this spot, which commanded the town. The Kabyles had stolen through
the line of blockhouses in the dark, and from this rock they now fired
into the town with their long rifles with some effect. The companies
soon fell into rank. Lieutenant-Colonel Picolou, a cool determined
officer, made his appearance immediately, and placed all the sentinels
of the town on a battery exactly opposite the rock, to answer the
fire of the Kabyles and thus to make them believe that the whole
garrison was there: in the meantime we marched out at the gate in
perfect silence, reached the rock unobserved, and fell suddenly upon
their rear. At the very moment when they saw us and raised their wild
howl, we gave them a volley and charged them with the bayonet. As the
Kabyles are totally unacquainted with the use of it, they could offer
us no effectual resistance although they were double our number. Those
who were not killed threw themselves into the sea, for, being mostly
good swimmers, they chose rather to trust to the tender mercies of
the waves than to ours. But even the very elements conspired against
them. The sea was very rough, and the waves dashed the poor fellows to
pieces against the rocks. But few escaped to tell the mournful tale to
their kinsfolk. We remained on the rock till the following morning.
We had only taken three prisoners, for in the heat of the skirmish the
soldiers cut down every one. Some, indeed, had even cut off the heads
of the wounded with their own yataghans. The _Commandant Superieur_
rewarded these heroes with five franc pieces, and stuck the heads
over the city gates, where they remained until the stench became
intolerable. Truly I almost begin to think that we have learned more
of the barbarous manners of the Kabyles, than they of our humanity and
civilisation.
In two days, a few old men belonging to the almost annihilated tribe
came to implore peace and the permission to remove and bury their
dead, which latter request was granted. They also wished to ransom
the three prisoners, one of whom was the son of their chief, and
offered forty oxen for them, but the Commandant demanded eighty and
the negotiators were forced to depart without them. Greatly to the
annoyance of the Commandant and the astonishment of us all, one fine
day the prisoners had disappeared. They had been confined in a dry
cistern close to the sea and had, with inconceivable difficulty,
worked their way through to it in one night, let themselves down
into the water by means of their long woollen girdles, and swum to
the other side. This was no slight matter, as the coast is tolerably
distant and one of the prisoners had his thigh shattered by a bullet.
They then escaped safely through all the outposts. For eight whole
days the Kabyles kept coming to fetch the dead bodies of their
relations. Their joyful songs contrasted sadly with their melancholy
faces. They were entirely crushed by this last blow, which they looked
upon as a chastisement from Allah, because they had transgressed his
command to wage no war by night. Most of the corpses had to be fished
up out of the sea.
I watched them one morning at this employment. The Kabyles stood round
a body they had just found, and drew the mantle from off the head.
Scarce had an old Kabyle seen the features of the corpse, than he
turned away his face to hide his tears; perhaps it was his son. And
the soldiers who stood by jeered him!
Truly war is wild work; especially a war to the knife, such as this.
It is lucky for us that custom renders us indifferent to our own
dangers and miseries, but then we often grow equally indifferent to
the woes of others.
* * * * *
March, 1841.
We have just heard that we are to have a new Governor; no other than
General Bugeaud who made the treaty with Abd-el-Kader, at Tafna. He is
a vigorous, enterprising man, and great things are expected from him.
An expedition into the interior against the Bedouins is talked of,
in which we are to take part; and we have already received orders to
embark in a steamer for Algiers in a few days. Well, I shall not be
sorry to make acquaintance with those houseless, wandering sons of the
desert.
CHAPTER IV.
Budschia—Monkeys—March to Buterback—General Bugeaud—Algiers—Lord
Exmouth and the Dey—Progress of Civilisation and Jollity among the
Arabs of both Sexes—Songs.
Buterback, April, 1841.
We reached the bay of Algiers in the evening of the 29th of March.
The voyage was favourable, but I cannot say that it was pleasant; six
hundred of us were squeezed together on the deck of a steamer. I am
perfectly convinced that a pickled herring has more space allotted to
it in the barrel than a soldier on board a French steamboat. In the
Mediterranean, troops are always conveyed on deck, in the steamers at
least.
The air here is mild enough for this, even in winter; but during the
often-continued rains, one sometimes cannot help sighing for one’s own
fireside.
The coast is uninteresting all the way from Dschigeli to Algiers.
There is nothing to be seen but hills—some covered with brushwood,
and others quite bare. There are but few valleys or streams, and
scarce any human dwellings.
Near Budschia you discover from the sea a beautiful and fruitful vale
watered by the river Summam. This is occupied by some of the most
powerful Kabyle tribes, which give a good deal of trouble to the
French garrison at Budschia. The town stands on an eminence commanding
the mouth of the river and great part of the valley, and is enclosed
by a line of blockhouses. Budschia is one of the oldest towns in
Africa, as is proved by a Roman fort in tolerable preservation, and
the remains of walls. There is a small bay here which affords good
anchorage for vessels and protection against the south and west winds.
A species of monkey, as large as a pointer, abounds in these
mountains. While we lay at anchor in the roadstead for a few hours, we
had ample opportunity of observing the conduct of several families of
these apes on a neighbouring rock. Curiosity drew many of them very
near to us, and we were vastly amused by their strange antics; but as
soon as any on board made the motion of shooting they skipped away,
evidently well aware of its meaning. In one moment the fond mothers
flung their sons across their backs, and disappeared behind the rocks.
It is very difficult to get at these monkeys, as they live in caves
which no human foot can reach, and their whole system of defence is
excellent; their service of sentinels is as regularly organised as
that of the Kabyles.
At about five leagues from Algiers the Atlas mountains gradually
recede and give place to the great plain of Metidja, which is watered
by the Arrasch and the Messafren. This plain is divided from the
mountain in a peculiarly abrupt manner; it has not the undulating
surface of other valleys, but is as flat as a table from the foot of
the Atlas to the base of the Sahel range. The Metidja, varying from
three to five leagues in breadth, forms a semicircle of about fifteen
leagues, and touches the sea twice, at _Maison Carrée_, and just below
Cherchell. It would be one of the most fruitful districts in the world
if it had but more water; but the rivers get low even in the month
of June, and the earth is so parched by the rays of the sun that all
vegetation withers, and only begins to revive in October with the
autumn rains. Close to the foot of the mountain and near the river,
where the soil is kept moist by artificial means, the earth yields two
crops of corn and three of vegetables in the year.
We landed immediately and marched the same evening to Buterback,
whence I now have the honour of writing to you. Buterback was formerly
the castle of a Moorish grandee; it stands on the topmost ridge of the
Sahel, not far from the camp of Kouba. We have a glorious view of the
sea on one side, and of the Metidja and the lesser Atlas on the other.
Nearly every evening we see, on the Atlas mountains, the watch-fires
of the wandering Bedouins, with whom we hope soon to make a nearer
acquaintance. We are already preparing for a grand expedition into the
interior.
The new Governor, Bugeaud, is determined, it is said, either to
subjugate or destroy all the hostile tribes. The greatest excitement
prevails. Fresh troops are landed every day. The Foreign Legion has
been reorganised: the four battalions of infantry are increased to
six, and divided into two regiments. Our battalion, the third of
the first regiment, is commanded by Colonel Von Mollenbeck who has
succeeded Colonel Von Hulsen. Our new Colonel is a German who has been
long in the French service. He is brave, but seventy years of age is
too old for expeditions in Africa. Our regiment has got new muskets
with percussion locks instead of the old ones.
The Governor came a few days ago to inspect us, and was very gracious.
He appears to be about fifty, and has an air of great determination
and coolness. He is of the middle size and strongly built; his face
is much sun-burnt, but pleasing; and he would be taken for younger
than he is, did not his snow-white hair betray his age. Bugeaud is
a man of restless activity, and keeps every one on the alert by his
continual presence. At three every morning he gives audience, to which
all who have any complaint to make are admitted. Expeditions are to be
made from several different quarters at once; one from Oran, another
from Mostaganem, and a third from hence. The Governor will probably
lead the expedition from Oran himself, and ours will be commanded by
General Baraguai d’Hilliers, whom the soldiers call the Stumped Arm,
because he lost the use of his left arm by a shot.
It is said that we shall stay here some time longer, and a short rest
will indeed be most welcome to us. When not on duty, I wander about
in the neighbourhood, for within the range of the blockhouses one
is tolerably safe. Every inch of soil is most carefully cultivated,
chiefly by Spaniards and Arabs; there are also a few Germans who sell
the produce of their labour, generally fruit and vegetables, for high
prices at Algiers. The Germans, who are chiefly from Alsatia and
Rhenish Bavaria, do very well, as they need only work one quarter
the time they would do in their own country to secure an existence.
Wherever there is water they can grow three crops of vegetables in
the year, especially of potatoes which cost more here than figs and
oranges.
The day before yesterday I paid my friend Hassan a visit at the Plane
Tree _café_, which is only a mile or two from Buterback. He was
greatly rejoiced to see me again. We retired to his little garden
behind the house, and, with a smile, he brought out a few bottles of
Malaga, which we proceeded to pour down our throats whilst we sat on
the ground after the Eastern fashion conversing most philosophically.
I had to recount to him all my adventures at Dschigeli, which caused
him to stroke his beard fiercely, whilst he muttered one _caramba_
after another.
* * * * *
I have been several times to Algiers, which is about a league and a
half from Buterback, to take a nearer view of the curiosities there.
The upper, which is the old part of the town, bears a striking
resemblance to the old Moorish cities of Andaluzia, such as Cordova
and Eccija. The streets are very narrow, and the houses have but few
windows looking into the streets, and those few are defended by close
gratings. All the houses are built round a spacious court, which,
in the dwellings of the rich, is paved with marble and adorned with
a fountain. The only difference is, that the Spanish cities were
evidently built during the most flourishing times of the Moors, as the
style of the houses in Spain is far grander and more ornate than of
those in Africa.
Algiers contains a population of about forty or fifty thousand souls,
two-thirds of which are Jews and Arabs, and the rest Frenchmen,
Spaniards, and Italians. The habits of the Jews differ but little from
those of the Arabs, and one may still perceive that they are children
of the same forefather. But the sons of Ishmael now seem disposed
to consider themselves as the lawful descendants of Abraham, and to
treat the Jews as bastards. The Jews are distinguishable from the
Arabs by their gayer clothes, and the unveiled faces of their women.
The Jewesses are far more beautiful than the Arab women, because they
are not treated as mere domestic animals, and therefore have an air
of greater refinement. Their dress is simple but pleasing, usually a
blue or brown garment confined under the breast with a girdle; their
long black hair is held together by a circlet of gold or silver, or by
a ribbon; their arms and feet are bare. Their deep jet-black eyes are
wonderfully beautiful, and though their intense brilliancy is somewhat
softened by the long silken eyelashes, yet woe to him who looks too
deeply into them.
I toiled through the narrow streets up to the Casabah, the former
residence of the Dey, the road to which is so steep that steps had to
be cut in it. As I did not know the shortest path, it was at least two
hours before I reached the top.
The Casabah stands on a _plateau_ commanding the whole town.
Gloomy-looking battlemented walls surround the palace, and are so
high, as entirely to conceal the building within them; one fine tall
palm tree alone overtops the wall. The palace contains a beautiful
marble court and some splendid rooms, in which two French battalions
are now quartered.
The Casabah itself is commanded by a fort built by Charles V. on a
height above the town. The French were fortunate enough to carry this
fort by a _coup de main_, whereupon the Casabah and the town were
forced to capitulate. The Dey was living there in the most perfect
security; all his treasures were deposited in the palace, and he
was convinced that the high walls of the city would defy all the
endeavours of the French to take what had already baffled the English
and the Dutch.
The English, under Lord Exmouth, had taken one of the forts upon the
sea, which they evacuated after twenty-four hours’ possession, upon a
treaty with the Dey. It is still called _Fort Vingt-quatre Heures_.
At the time of the French occupation, Algiers was strongly fortified;
besides the thick ramparts, which in some places are double, the town
was defended by several bastions and three forts, which were in a
very good state of defence. More especially the batteries on the sea,
which protect the harbour, were exceedingly strong, and the French
have since made considerable additions to all the fortifications. The
town itself, however, from its shape and position, must always remain
exposed to a bombardment from the sea. The Turks cared but little for
this contingency, partly because the town contained but few handsome
houses, and partly because most of the inhabitants were Jews and
Arabs. The Dey is said to have asked the English Consul, after its
bombardment by Lord Exmouth, how much it had cost us; and on hearing
it put at some millions (of francs?) he frankly replied, that he would
willingly have done it himself for half the sum.
After satisfying my curiosity here, I went into the lower town, and on
turning down a fresh street I was met by the sound of a mandoline and
of singing, accompanied by peals of laughter, which issued from the
second story of one of the houses; the songs were Arab, the laughter
might be Arab, French, or German, I knew not which, but at all events
it was most hearty. Of course I walked in, ascended the stairs,
and found myself in the midst of a mixed company of Arabs, Jews,
Frenchmen, and Italians, all seated together on cushions against the
walls of a spacious room.
On a sort of platform near the window sat two Arabs singing, with two
Arab girls beside them accompanying their songs on the mandoline. They
were at that moment singing a love song, the constant burthen of which
was “Nanina”; the whole company was in the most joyous mood. Every man
had one or more bottles of wine before him, and it seemed as if they
had all drunk repeated bumpers. I was astonished at this wonderful
advance in civilisation and good fellowship. On either side of me
I saw Arabs filled with wine, and Arab women with unveiled faces,
returning the wanton glances of Christians with still more wanton
eyes. Truly this change does honour to the French.
I sat down by an Arab soldier of the French allied cavalry, whose
burning cheek betrayed that he had transgressed the commandment of
the Prophet. He immediately drank to me in the most familiar manner,
saying, with a laugh, “_Scherap bueno, jaule_.” (The wine is good,
comrade.) “_Bueno_,” answered I; for it was generous Spanish wine,
such as is chiefly drunk here. He then asked me in broken French,
whether the women of Europe were equal to its wine? As in duty bound,
I answered in the affirmative, and described to him the charms and
the excellence of my countrywomen until my Arab friend seemed well
inclined to visit Europe. But when I told him that Allah bestowed but
one wife on us Europeans, he shook his head, saying, “_Macasch_.”
(Nay, nay.) By this time it was late, and as I had to be at Buterback
before night I took my leave. The gate Babazoun was soon far behind
me, and I hastened on towards my destination, for the sun was fast
declining towards the sea; but the boisterous laughter, and the
long-drawn burthen of “Na-ni-na” were ringing in my ears the whole way
home.
CHAPTER V.
March to Delhi Ibrahim—Horrible Scene—Blidah—_Colonne
Expéditionnaire_—Dukes of Nemours and Aumale—Pass of the
Col de Mussaia—Medeah—Arab Burial Grounds—Marabout in the
Mountains—Taking of Callah—March through the Desert—Destruction of
Abd-el-Kader’s Castle—Milianah—Night March—Sight of the Sea.
Duera, May, 1841.
Our battalion has been eight days at Duera, a fortified camp on the
southern declivity of the Sahel, and we expect every moment to start
on some great expedition. But even here we do not want occupation; for
nearly every day we have to escort a transport of provisions, intended
for Blidah, from Delhi Ibrahim to Buffarik.
Buffarik is another fortified camp and small village, which stands on
the river Arrasch in the middle of the plain of Metidja. The soil is
very productive, but the air so unhealthy that the village has been
depopulated more than once.
We also frequently have to reconnoitre the neighbourhood, and to clear
it of the Hadjutes. These fellows live in the western part of the
Sahel, and are notorious for their audacious robberies which they are
so bold as to extend to within a few leagues of Algiers. A few days
ago they gave us a strong instance of their daring. On the 1st of
May, just as we were going to hear mass, in honour of the saint’s-day
of Louis Philippe, two of the native _gendarmes maures_, who are
employed as guides, came gallopping up at full speed, their horses’
flanks bleeding with the spur, and made some communication to the
Commander of the camp. A general march was immediately sounded, and
in the course of five minutes our battalion was on its way towards a
blockhouse to the left of Delhi Ibrahim. There was no beaten track,
and we had to force our way through brushwood as high as ourselves
with which the mountains are almost everywhere covered—by no means
an agreeable occupation. We had marched about two leagues and a half
without stopping, at a pace more like a trot than a walk, when we
reached a blockhouse occupied by a company of the first battalion of
our regiment. Here we halted. Lieutenant Colonel Picolou exchanged
a few words with the officer in command at the blockhouse, and we
started again immediately. After crossing a deep ravine about a mile
beyond the blockhouse, the horsemen at the head of our advanced guard
suddenly drew up and their horses snorted and refused to advance. On
coming up with them, we saw the cause. About fifty dead bodies, all
naked and headless, were scattered about. This massacre had evidently
but just taken place, as the blood was still streaming from their
necks.
Some thirty Hadjutes had lured the Captain in command of the
blockhouse, a Swiss of the name of Müller, to leave it in pursuit
of them, at the head of fifty of the garrison. At his approach the
Hadjutes retreated across the ravine, and he was imprudent enough to
follow them to a spot where he could receive no assistance from the
blockhouse. He had scarcely reached the other side of the ravine when
he was surrounded by above six hundred well-mounted Hadjutes. Captain
Müller and his handful of men defended themselves to the last; many
of them were separated and cut down singly; but their leader and
about half of his people instantly formed into a square, and resolved
to sell their lives as dearly as possible. Their destruction was of
course inevitable; and their bodies still lay as they fell, side by
side, and there was not one among them that had not received several
wounds. The number of dead and wounded horses scattered around showed
how bravely they had fought. The Hadjutes had, as usual, carried
away their fallen comrades. Of the fifty soldiers who had left the
blockhouse one only escaped who, having been wounded at the beginning
of the fight, had fallen among some thick brushwood, where he had lain
concealed until the departure of the Hadjutes. He had thus been a
spectator of the whole of this horrid scene, and had been forced to
look on whilst the Hadjutes massacred his comrades and finally cut off
their heads, which they bore away as trophies hanging to their saddle
bows.
It cannot be denied that Captain Müller caused the destruction of his
company by his rashness, but he paid for his fault with his life.
Peace be to his ashes, for he met his death like a man. This scene
of blood made a deep impression on me, as on all my comrades, whose
countenances were some burning with rage and thirst for revenge, and
others pale with terror and disgust. The corpses were immediately
buried on the spot, the blockhouse garrisoned by a fresh company, and
we marched back again.
During the whole way home I did not hear a single song nor one coarse
jest, of which there were generally no lack; even the roughest and
most hardened characters were shaken by that which they had just
seen.[1] Every one reflected that the fate of their comrades might one
day be their own.
The blockhouse is about three leagues from Algiers, and one from Delhi
Ibrahim; so you may judge tolerably well of what is meant by the
French territory.
* * * * *
Blidah, June.
On the sixth of May we left Duera for Blidah, the rendezvous appointed
for the troops which were to form the _colonne expéditionnaire_. For
several days troops of every description, and an infinite number of
mules laden with provisions had been passing through Duera.
After a march of two hours we left the Sahel mountains and descended
into the plains of Metidja, where we proceeded, much at our ease,
along a broad road which had been made as far as Blidah for the
traffic of waggons. The lesser Atlas appeared to lie so close before
us that we expected to arrive in a few hours at Blidah, the end of
our day’s march, which lies at the foot of that range. But the great
height of the mountains deceived us, and it was noon before we reached
Buffarik which is only half way; here we rested for two hours. Towards
evening we at last saw Blidah just before us. A thick grove of orange
trees had till then concealed it from our sight. The white cupolas of
the numerous mosques, lighted up by the last rays of the setting sun,
rose from among the bright green foliage of the oranges.
By the time we reached the town it was nearly dark, and we bivouacked
under some old olive trees. I lay all night in a sort of waking dream
and found it impossible to sleep. The soft air of the south, the
intoxicating perfume of the orange flowers, the death-like stillness,
rarely disturbed by the neighing of horses and the challenge of the
sentinels—all this had such a magical effect on my senses, that I
felt as though I was in the midst of one of the Arabian nights—it was
not till near morning that I fell asleep, and when I awoke the sun
was already high in the heavens. As we were to wait there a whole day
for the arrival of the cavalry, I did not fail to take a nearer view
of Blidah, which the Arabs justly call the Paradise of Africa. The
town lies at the very foot of the Atlas, and for miles westward there
extends a beautiful orange grove, the largest I ever saw, not even
excepting that of Seville. Eastward, on the slope of the mountain, are
fig and olive trees, interspersed with cedars which rival those of
Mount Lebanon. Plentiful streams of water gush out of a ravine, and
are conveyed in numerous channels through the streets of the town. The
Arab sits beneath the arcade of his house, protected from the rays of
the sun, bathing his feet in the cool spring water, and blesses Allah
and the Prophet for his existence; and well he may, for his days glide
tranquilly on, like the brook at his feet. Doubts and inward struggles
are unknown to him; the Arab has but one God, one sword, and one
horse, and wants nothing more.
In good and evil fortune he equally says, “The will of Allah be done,”
and bows his head to the dust. When I compared myself, a restless son
of the north, to this Arab, truly, for the first time in my life, I
was envious. But I soon reflected that it is impossible to retrace
the path I have entered, and that, at the end of the dangers and
difficulties which beset it, I too may rest beside a cool spring under
a spreading tree.
In the plain, not very far to the west of Blidah, are the remains of a
wall which evidently surrounded a town of considerable size. There is
a tradition that it was destroyed by the Normans. I could never learn
its name.
On the next morning at sunrise the whole column, consisting of about
twelve thousand men, was in marching order, and the Governor, who had
arrived with the cavalry the day before, entrusted the command to
General Baraguai d’Hilliers, and returned to Algiers from whence he
was to proceed to Oran.
Our cavalry consisted, in several squadrons of the native _gendarmes
maures_, besides a regiment and a half of French _chasseurs
d’Afrique_; the latter were all mounted on native horses, as European
horses are quite worn out in the first half-year. The fourth regiment
of _chasseurs_, who had just arrived from Bona, were mounted on Tunis
horses which the Dey had sold to the French for a very moderate price;
and nothing can be imagined more beautiful than this regiment. We had
besides several field-pieces; for granades and grape-shot do more
execution among masses of cavalry than round-shot: each piece was
served by four men and drawn by four mules. In the plain they were
drawn by two mules, but in the mountain districts they were taken to
pieces, and one mule carried the barrel, another the carriage, and the
other two the ammunition. It requires only a few minutes to take the
cannon to pieces and to put it together again.
We crossed the plain as far as the foot of the Col de Mussaia, which
is about four leagues from Blidah, in three columns, surrounded by
flying squadrons of French and native horse. The baggage, which was
considerable, was placed in the middle.
Besides what was loaded on mules, each soldier carried nine days’
provisions, consisting of ship-biscuit, rice, coffee, and sugar.
Bread and wine are not given on a campaign, owing to the very limited
means of transport, for it would be impossible to use waggons, and the
number of mules and donkeys required to carry the provisions for a
march of five weeks is great enough as it is. Cattle are driven, and
during an expedition each soldier is allowed double rations, that is,
one pound of meat daily.
Besides his provisions, which are replaced from time to time, each
soldier carries sixty rounds of ammunition, and a linen sack into
which he creeps at night, and which stands him in stead of both an
upper and under sheet. His only outer garment is the grey _capote_,
which protects him against the summer’s heat and the winter’s rain;
his stock of shirts is usually limited to the one on his back,
which he washes in the first stream near his bivouac, and which is
considered dry in ten minutes. The French set but little store by
other articles of dress, but before they set out on a march they take
care that each soldier be provided with a pair of good shoes; for
shoes and arms are the first necessaries of the soldier on active
service. One may almost say, that to be well shod is even more
essential than to be well armed; for the soldier can make no use of
his weapons until he has reached the field of battle. The bravest
troops are useless if they arrive too late, or leave one-third or half
of their men lagging behind. It is impossible to lay too much stress
upon the good marching order of the soldier. Marshal Saxe used to say,
“_C’est dans les jambes qu’est tout le secret des manœuvres et des
combats: c’est aux jambes qu’il faut s’appliquer_;” and he was quite
right.
The Dukes of Nemours and Aumale were with the column; the first
as Brigadier-General, the latter as Lieutenant-Colonel of the
twenty-fourth regiment of the line; both are tall and well made.
The Duke of Nemours generally wears the uniform of the _chasseurs
d’Afrique_, which suits him admirably, and follows the African fashion
of wearing a thick beard round his mouth and chin; his younger brother
has not yet followed this laudable example, most likely for the best
of all reasons.
They are both much respected by the army as brave officers; and,
indeed, they do their duty, on all occasions, even better than the
other superior officers. The Duke of Nemours, however, is not so
much beloved as the Duke of Orleans, as he is thought proud and
aristocratic, whether justly or not I had no opportunity of telling.
The enemy did not attempt to molest us in the plain, although near the
hills to our left we had constant glimpses of the white bernouses of
the Bedouins, who, though too weak to make a regular attack, followed
the column like jackals, and fell upon all that lagged too far in the
rear.
For two years the Metidja has lain waste, but it is still covered
with ruined dwellings and self-sown corn-fields, the traces of former
cultivation.
With the exception of a few groups of olive trees, little wood is to
be seen here; only the banks of a small stream called the Schiffa, are
covered with laurels. We rested for some hours at the foot of the Col
de Mussaia, before the column began to ascend the mountain.
This is the only pass in all this part of the lesser Atlas. The
defiles in this narrow pass had been occupied by a few battalions of
infantry the day before, as, without this precaution, the Bedouins
might have crushed the whole army by merely throwing blocks of stone
down the perpendicular rocks upon the troops defiling along the narrow
path below.
The mountain scenery here is most wildly romantic: on the left are
towering rocks, on the right a dizzy precipice; as far as the eye can
reach there is nothing but tall brushwood, with a few olive trees and
cedars wherever the soil is deep enough. No trace of human habitations
was to be seen, the place appeared to be the abode of vultures and
jackals, both of which abound. However, we afterwards learnt that
the huts of the Kabyles are thickly scattered in all the defiles and
glens, but they are so small and dingy as not to be visible from a
distance.
From the foot of the Col de Mussaia up to its highest point is fully
seven hours’ march; and as the day was intensely hot, we shed many a
drop of sweat.
Our battalion, which was the only one of the Foreign Legion engaged in
this expedition, formed the rear guard, and we did not reach the top
of the mountain until long after sunset.
The other troops had already encamped for the night, and we were sent
on as outposts to the _Fontaine de la Croix_, a full league further,
on the other declivity of the mountain. We went forward, limping and
cursing. To make matters still worse, a guide was sent with us who did
not know the way. At length, some time past midnight, the sound of
rushing waters announced to us that we had reached our destination.
This _Fontaine de la Croix_ derives its name from a huge cross cut
into the living rock, probably by the Spaniards, as a pious memorial
of their conquest. We had not much time for rest, as the signal for
marching was given before sunrise. We were now the first of the
advanced guard, and on we went, up hill and down dale. The Bedouins
made an attempt to fire upon the column in a large olive grove,
through which we had to pass at the foot of the Col, but our scouts
and sharp-shooters soon drove them off.
* * * * *
Medeah.
We reached Medeah, the end of our day’s march, before noon. This city,
one of the oldest in Africa, stands on a _plateau_, which terminates
on two sides in an abrupt precipice, and is therefore easily defended.
The town is surrounded by the most splendid fruit gardens; a Roman
aqueduct still in good preservation, conveys water to it from a
neighbouring mountain, and proves the high antiquity of the town. It
is inhabited by Jews and Arabs, who seem devoted to the French—a
disposition greatly encouraged by the presence of a French garrison
of two battalions. Medeah was formerly the capital of the Beylick of
Titteri, and the residence of the Bey.
We pitched our tents close to the town, beside a brook, where
exquisite oranges, out of a garden close by, offered us some
compensation for the fatigues we had undergone.
In spite of positive commands to the contrary, the soldiers proceeded
to cut down the orange and almond trees for fuel, although there were
plenty of large olive trees in the neighbourhood; but destruction is
the proper element of the soldier.
Our bivouac usually forms a perfect square, modified of course by the
ground; the infantry, who are outside, lie in double file behind their
piled arms. Each battalion sends out one company as an advanced post,
and another company remains within the lines as a picket. The baggage,
artillery, and cavalry, are placed in the middle. The cavalry do not
furnish any outposts, as horsemen, especially in broken ground, are
too much exposed to the fire of the Bedouins and Kabyles, who steal
singly towards us. The infantry, on the contrary, can more easily hide
themselves, and by laying their faces close to the ground can hear the
slightest sound. This is essential, as the Bedouins and Kabyles creep
on all fours like wild beasts and fall upon single outposts, or shoot
them from a distance when they can see them; for which reason the
outposts change their ground after dark, to deceive the enemy. They
generally draw back a little, leaving their watch-fires burning, which
enables them to see whatever passes between them and the fire. To our
great satisfaction we stayed the whole of the next day at Medeah, as
the General had directed many military stores and other matters to be
forwarded thither. As it was Sunday, a solemn mass was celebrated on
an eminence in the middle of the camp, by a priest who accompanied
us, and who afterwards preached a very edifying sermon on peace. We
were unfortunately so far from the priest that we heard nothing of the
whole mass but an occasional solemn strain of military music.
We started next morning before sunrise, and continued our route due
south. We marched several days without exchanging a single shot with
the Bedouins. Our road lay always up or down hill; the heat was
excessive and our marches were at the rate of from four to six leagues
a-day.
In Africa it is, of course, impossible to say where or when the troops
are to bivouac, as it depends upon finding wood and water. In case of
need the wood can be dispensed with, as there is almost always enough
to be found for cooking; but water is absolutely necessary for the
cattle and the beasts of burden, which die if they get none after a
long march; men can bear the want of it better. Of course, the General
has several native guides who know the country, which is the more
essential as the French have never been in this part of Africa before.
Had we not seen well-cultivated corn, barley, and rice fields in the
valleys, we should have supposed that the whole of this district was
uninhabited. As far as our cavalry scoured the country they found no
traces of human beings save a few miserable little hovels made of
rushes and skins of beasts, which we should have thought too wretched
for a dog to live in. The owners, of course, were nowhere to be found.
In former days this tract of country must have been thickly peopled,
judging from the cemeteries which we saw from time to time. These
were generally near the tomb of a marabout, and of enormous extent:
they might truly be called cities of the dead. The graves were all
exactly alike; no distinction seemed to exist among the dead. All were
carefully covered with masonry, to keep the jackals from scratching up
the bodies; and indeed no one can wonder that the Bedouins should wish
to rest undisturbed in death after such restless wandering lives. Each
grave was marked by a large upright stone, but no date told the dying
day of him who lay beneath it, no escutcheon proclaimed his birth and
descent.
The Bedouins, who are nomadic here as elsewhere, are too poor to buy
tents, and accordingly they build for themselves in a few days the
wretched hovels I have already mentioned. And the French make war
upon these wretched houseless tribes! Truly, they might as well march
against the jackals.
The Bedouins had placed vedettes on the tops of all the mountains
to give notice of our approach. We could distinctly perceive on the
distant hills, single horsemen in white bernouses who retreated as we
drew near them.
We were now in the province of Titteri, among the mountains of
the second Atlas range, which at this point is not divided by any
considerable rivers or valleys from the lesser Atlas. It is impossible
to tell where the one ceases and the other begins: all is mountain.
Farther west, on the contrary, the extensive plain watered by the
Schellif forms the natural division.
After several days’ march the mountains which had hitherto been
covered with mere brushwood became more wooded and romantic in their
appearance. We passed through immense forests of olives, firs, and
junipers, the latter of which grew to a considerable height. A great
fire must have raged in one part of the forest, as nearly all the
trees about it were black and charred. Some of them, however, still
had so much vital power left that they had shot out afresh at top. Our
column followed a caravan track through the wood.
It is remarkable that on the very highest point of all these
mountains there stands a marabout. These marabouts are at the same
time the temples and the mausoleums of the Bedouin priests, who are
also called marabouts. They are usually small,—from thirty or forty
feet square,—surmounted by a cupola, and commonly built of rough
stone and whitewashed. Thus these houseless children of the desert,
who have no abiding-place for themselves, yet build a house for their
God.
One day our company was detached in order to cover the right flank; we
were separated as sharp-shooters, and our road lay near one of these
marabouts. The door was open, and curiosity impelled me and a few
others to enter. We stepped in, and saw an old man in a white bernouse
prostrate on the ground praying. It was indeed a spot well fitted for
prayer and meditation; here, on the graves of his forefathers, so near
to heaven, everything proclaimed the transitory nature of earthly
things and the greatness and majesty of the Eternal.
As some of us approached him and made a noise, the priest arose and
motioned us back with his hand, saying, “_No bueno Romis_” (not well
Christians). We involuntarily drew back. The whole appearance of this
man was that of an inspired prophet. We afterwards joked about it, but
no one could conceive how this man came to be in a place so far from
all human habitations. The Arabs and Bedouins call all Christians and
Europeans by the name of Romis, _i. e._ Romans.
I do not know whether the jackals are particularly numerous in this
district, or whether it is that they follow our column, but every
evening after sunset they serenade us most melodiously. The jackal
is not unlike our European fox, but it feeds chiefly on corpses and
carrion, and is therefore dangerous only to the dead.
It is curious that the hoarse croaking bark of the hyæna is always
heard together with the howling of the jackal. The natives assert
that every pack of jackals is led by a hyæna. These serenades are not
very enlivening. But though the howling of hyænas and jackals was my
regular lullabye, and my knapsack my only pillow, I did not sleep a
whit the less soundly after a good day’s march.
By degrees the country grew more and more desert and treeless. The
hills were bare and the valleys afforded but little water, and that
little was fetid. The streams were already dried up; in the deepest
places a little water was still standing, but it was so bitter that it
could scarcely be used for cooking. It was only here and there that
we found fresh springs. We suffered cruelly from heat and thirst:
each man filled his flask every morning, but the water was soon drunk
during a forced march, and it is not every one that knows how to make
the most of it. During the first part of the day as little as possible
should be drunk, and even later a very small quantity, and that only
while at rest; much drinking merely heats and weakens. When we halted
at mid-day and found water we generally made some coffee, which even
without sugar or milk was most refreshing. Before starting in the
morning we usually drink coffee, in which we soak our biscuit. In the
evening we make soup of the meat which is given out; so, you see, we
cannot be accused of gluttony at any rate. But, indeed, this heat
takes away all appetite, and one longs for nothing but a shady tree
and a gushing fountain; all else is vain.
It is strange to see the efforts made by every creature when we are
coming near a spring or a brook to reach it quickly. The weary faces
of the soldiers resume their animation; the horses and mules who smell
the water half a league off begin to neigh: and on reaching the water
both men and beasts plunge into it, to satisfy their burning thirst.
General orders and sentinels are of no avail; what is punishment or
even death to the soldier at such a moment! He would much rather die
by a bullet than by thirst. Most of them lose all self-control, and
drink till they are literally full. I have seen some of them drink
with a small tin can called a _quart_, which each soldier carries
hanging to his button-hole, as much as five or six pints at a time.
It is extraordinary that more do not die of it; but the water is
generally warmed by the sun, and the subsequent marching brings on
profuse perspiration.
* * * * *
Callah.
Here, where one would least expect to find human beings, the Bedouins
have begun to show themselves in great numbers, and to attack the
flanks and the rear of the column. Perhaps they have been retreating
before us all this time, and now that we draw near the lesser desert
they are determined to retreat no further. By degrees their numbers
increased, and without offering any resistance to the head of the
column they hovered round us all day, greeting us with wild yells of
“_Lu, lu_,” which probably meant “Allah.”
They gallop without any order, and singly, to within eighty or a
hundred paces of our sharp shooters, and discharge their rifles at
full speed. The horse then turns of his own accord, and the rider
loads his piece as he retreats; and this is repeated again and again
all day long.
The Bedouins never wait for a close encounter hand to hand when
charged by our cavalry; they disperse in all directions, but instantly
return. The only difference between them and the Numidians, of whom
Sallust says, “They fight flying, and retreat, only to return more
numerous than before,” is, that the Numidians of old fought with bows
and the Bedouins have rifles.
This kind of fighting is equally dangerous and fatiguing to us. It is
no joke to be firing in all directions from sunrise till sunset, and
to march at the same time, for we seldom halt to fight at our ease.
The General only orders a halt when the rear-guard is so fiercely
attacked as to require reinforcement. Any soldier of the rear-guard
who is wounded or tired has the pleasant prospect of falling into the
hands of the Bedouins and having his head cut off by them. One comfort
is, that this operation is speedily performed: two or three strokes
with the yataghan are a lasting cure for all pains and sorrows.
There are, it is true, a certain number of mules and litters to carry
the sick and wounded; but on so long an expedition as this the number
of the sick increases to such a degree that in the end every means
of conveyance is overloaded. The only resource, then, is to unload
the provision mules, and to distribute rations for eight or ten days
more among the soldiers. In the end, however, both men and mules are
dead beat, and every one must shift for himself. It requires long
habit, and much suffering, before a man can bear to see his comrades
butchered before his eyes without being able to help them.
For several successive days we were attacked with such pertinacity by
the Bedouins, and their allies the Kabyles, that we supposed we must
be coming upon their den, and so indeed it turned out. One evening,
after a hot forced march, we saw on a mountain top, which formed a
_plateau_, a great heap of stones which we knew to be a town. In two
hours we were close upon it. Our battalion and several others climbed
the steep hill, in order to enter the town from above, while the rest
of the column attacked it from below. We were driving the Bedouins
before us all the time. At length we reached the walls, which were low
and battlemented, but to our astonishment no one appeared to defend
them, and the gates stood wide open. Suspecting a stratagem, some of
us climbed to the top of the walls to look into the town. The nest was
empty, and the birds flown; as usual we had come just too late. The
whole column poured into the town, which was I think called Callah,
and the soldiers eagerly ransacked the houses. The owners could not
have been gone long, for the kuskussu on the hearth was still hot.
A few fowls, cats, and lambs, which the Kabyles had left behind in
their hurry, and two rusty cannons, were all the spoil. A far greater
god-send was a fine spring of water near the city gates. Here we made
up for the thirst we had endured all day.
After taking as much wood as was wanted to cook our supper, we set
fire to the town. We then bivouacked on an eminence at a distance,
where we slept as soundly as if we had performed some glorious action.
The soldiers began to grow impatient; we were now close to the lesser
desert, without apparently being a bit the nearer to Abd-el-Kader’s
castle, which was the object of the expedition. They began as usual
to invent the most extraordinary theories, some asserting that the
General had sold us to Abd-el-Kader, others that we were in a few days
to fight a battle against the Emperor of Morocco, although we were
then further from Morocco than from Algiers.
* * * * *
The Lesser Desert.
One morning before leaving our bivouac, we were ordered to fill our
kettles with water, and to carry some wood upon our knapsacks, as we
should have to pass the night in the desert. After two hours’ march
the desert lay before us, and a most cheerless prospect did it afford.
To the south nothing was to be seen but an undulating surface of
shifting sand: on the east and west alone, the Atlas range was still
visible.
The palm grows better than any other tree in this scorching soil; but
it was only from time to time that we found one, and then so stunted
and withered was it that it could afford no shelter to the weary
wanderer. The palm is seldom found in groups, generally single, or at
most in twos and threes, for which reason the natives call the palm
tree the hermit.
We had of course no idea how far the desert might extend, and felt as
desolate and fearful as the young sailor who for the first time sees
his native shore fade from his sight. To our great joy we soon turned
westward, always following the track of a caravan. The march was
excessively fatiguing, as no breath of air tempered the burning heat
under which we toiled alone, up to the ancles in sand. I was so tired,
that I could have exclaimed with King Richard, “A horse! a horse! my
kingdom for a horse.” Towards evening we reached a spot which the
Bedouins had but lately quitted, as we saw by the traces of tents and
herds. To our great joy we found several deep cisterns containing some
water, not indeed fit to drink, but good enough for cattle and for
cooking. These cisterns are filled during the rainy season, and some
water remains in them till far into the summer. Next day we turned
still more to the west, and towards evening we reached the foot of the
mountains, where we bivouacked beside a brook, whose waters had called
forth luxuriant vegetation. We were not a little rejoiced to escape
from the accursed desert. Many of us had already bidden adieu to life,
and fancied that we saw our bones lie bleaching on the burning sand.
The green banks of this small stream where we lay seemed to us a
perfect paradise. On the following morning we followed the course
of the brook upwards with more than usual speed, preceded at some
distance by the cavalry, whence we supposed something must be in
store for us. Towards mid-day some Bedouins showed themselves one by
one on our right flank, and discharged their rifles at the column.
As the whole body of cavalry had been sent forward, sharp-shooters
were detached, who succeeded in keeping the Bedouins at a respectful
distance. By degrees, however, they came in greater numbers, and grew
bolder, so that our sharp-shooters had to be constantly reinforced and
relieved. It is most fortunate for us that the Bedouins have such
a holy horror of the bayonet. The sharp-shooter may feel perfectly
secure against an attack hand to hand with the yataghan from any
single Bedouin.
They confine themselves to swearing and shooting at him, both always
at full gallop; and as the aim of a horseman is far less certain than
that of a foot soldier, the sharp-shooter has the advantage. The
Bedouins fight hand to hand only when they are greatly superior in
numbers, or when a small band is cut off from the main body; then,
indeed, the danger is very great.
* * * * *
Thaza.
Towards evening we at length saw on a height before us the castle of
Abd-el-Kader, the object of our expedition. It was a large square
building in the European style, surrounded with high walls.
Close to it blazed a village which the Bedouins had fired with their
own hands. The cavalry had taken the castle without a single blow, for
the Arabs had just deserted it.
Every soul had fled, leaving nothing but bare walls. We had again
arrived too late, and I thought of the words of my friend Hassan,
“Quickness is the soul of war.” I am convinced that we are very
deficient in cavalry, more especially in native horsemen, who know
every hole and corner in the defiles, and whose horses can scramble
anywhere. Our cavalry is not nearly strong enough to act for several
days independently of infantry and artillery. Possibly, too, the
General was not particularly well served by his spies and guides, or
some one of those thousand accidents may have occurred which cause the
failure of even the best laid plans.
We bivouacked immediately under the castle walls, for it was late, and
both men and horses were too tired to pursue the enemy. We all rushed
into the castle to see the inside, and, if possible, to plunder; but
nothing was left except a good many sheepskins and a few carpets.
The whole construction of the castle plainly showed that it had
been built under the direction of European architects. The rooms of
the Emir alone were arranged in the Arabian manner. The European
prisoners had been confined in the vaults below, where we found the
names of people of all nations written on the walls. Some bewailed
that we should come too late, and that they were to be transferred to
some other dungeon, they knew not where. Many prisoners of condition
had been shut up there; among others, a French _Sous Intendant_,
who had been seized by a horde of Bedouins near Duera, not far from
Algiers. This man was afterwards sent back without ransom, upon the
intercession of the Bishop of Algiers, who wrote to Abd-el-Kader
about him. It is but just to add, that the prisoners of Abd-el-Kader,
who were subsequently released, said that he had treated them very
humanely. It is true that they worked at his buildings, but they had
enough to eat, and were not beaten. As soon however as the Emir was
gone on a distant expedition, they were shamefully ill-used, and after
a hard day’s work got only a handful of barley and a little oil,—a
poor repast for those accustomed to the strong meat of the north. I
have since met with a Dutchman who had passed three years in this
slavery, at the end of which he was exchanged: hunger and misery had
rendered him completely imbecile. He had lost all sense of taste and
smell, and swallowed indiscriminately everything that was placed
before him, whether good or bad.
We stayed here the following day to rest. The cavalry went out to
reconnoitre whether any of the Bedouins still lay hidden in the
defiles and valleys, but returned without having found any traces of
them. These people have a peculiar art of driving away large herds of
cattle with incredible rapidity. The engineers completely destroyed
the castle by blowing up the walls, and setting all the wood that was
in it on fire.
To the great joy of us all, a march back to Milianah was ordered. But
before reaching the plains of the Schellif we had to cross the arm of
the Uanseris mountains, at the cost of infinite suffering and fatigue.
On the second day we came to a defile, at least five leagues in
length, and so narrow that in many places we had to march in single
file. On either hand rose lofty and precipitous rocks, which the
infantry were forced to occupy and defend.
Before daybreak these positions were taken without much difficulty,
for the Bedouins had already deserted them. The infantry and cavalry,
posted on the heights on either side of the pass, covered the advance
of the column, and the main body and the artillery began to defile
through; this took so much time that the head of the column had
already debouched before the rear had begun to move. It is scarcely
conceivable how, with the column drawn out over at least five leagues
of ground, we escaped without a mishap.
Considerable masses of cavalry showed themselves on our right flank,
and made several attacks on us, but all so feeble and unconnected that
they were easily repulsed. We bivouacked upon a _plateau_ on the side
of the defile, but the rear-guard did not reach the spot until late
in the evening. In a few days more we reached the Schellif, which
the natives call the great river,—a name it by no means deserves at
this place, where it is small and insignificant; but the youthful
impetuosity with which it dashes over rocks and hollows gives promise
of its future size. We followed its course for several days, marching
sometimes on the right, sometimes on the left bank, on account of the
narrowness of the valley; and having no pontoons with us, we had the
pleasure of wading through the stream several times a day.
The rivers in Africa are seldom so deep as not to be fordable; but
the health of the soldiers is destroyed by constantly marching in wet
clothes, more especially in the morning and evening when they do not
soon dry. I am convinced that many illnesses, particularly fevers and
diarrhœa, are brought on by this. Besides, the soldiers’ feet suffer
terribly from the softening of the skin and the hardening of the shoes.
By dint of scouring the country in all directions, our cavalry at last
succeeded in surprising a tribe and taking two or three prisoners and
a few hundred sheep, which barely supplied us with meat for one day.
It was fortunate that we had such a quantity of live stock with us,
for we must otherwise have died of hunger. As it was, our poor oxen
were grown so thin, owing to forced marches and want of food, that
Pharaoh’s lean kine would have seemed fat in comparison.
By-and-by we reached the end of the Uanseris mountains, where the
valley of the Schellif widens into an extensive plain which we found
covered with corn, although no tents or huts were to be seen. As the
wheat and barley were still too green to burn, the column deployed to
its utmost breadth, so as at all events to trample down the crops as
much as possible.
* * * * *
Milianah.
The further side of the plain is skirted by the lesser Atlas range, on
the southern declivity of which stands Milianah, whose white walls and
mosques we distinctly saw from afar.
Towards evening we reached the foot of these mountains, and bivouacked
immediately under Milianah. On the following day, whatever ammunition
and provisions we had remaining, about eight days’ supply, were sent
into the town. Immediately above Milianah is the highest point of the
lesser Atlas, and the town is built half way up the mountain, on a
_plateau_, which falls abruptly on three sides. This was formerly the
residence of Abd-el-Kader, who showed great judgment in the choice of
a spot so easily defensible and commanding the fruitful plain of the
Schellif. A beautiful clear stream which gushes out of a hollow above
the town, runs through the streets, and serves to work the powder
mills and manufactories established by Abd-el-Kader.
In 1840, when the war broke out between Abd-el-Kader and the
French, Milianah was besieged and taken by the latter. One half of
the besiegers assailed the town from below, while the rest having
succeeded in planting some cannon on a height commanding the town,
poured their shot down upon it. When Abd-el-Kader saw that he could
hold the place no longer, he determined to retreat by the only gate
which was still free, and first rode sword in hand through the
streets, cutting down every one that would not follow him. Nearly all
effected their retreat in safety, and most of the families settled
on the northern slope of the lesser Atlas. The town contains few
buildings worth looking at, except the palace of the Emir. The French
have repaired and considerably strengthened the fortifications of the
place.
With Milianah Abd-el-Kader lost the valley of the Schellif, and was
compelled to retire as far as the Mina. He transported his wives and
children and his most valued property to Tekedemta, a rocky fastness
in the greater Atlas, beyond Mascara.
From Milianah the column marched towards the Col de Mussaia, which
we had to pass again. Next morning, when we were still about twenty
leagues from this accursed Col, General Changarnier was sent in
advance with four battalions of infantry, of which ours was one, some
cavalry, and a few field-pieces to occupy the positions in the pass.
Those who were not in good walking order were left behind with the
column. We started at four in the morning, and marched the whole day,
only halting for ten minutes at a time, till we reached the _Plateau
des Reguliers_, (so called from Abd-el-Kader’s regular troops, who
often encamp there,) which lies at the foot of the Col. Evening had
already begun to close in. The day had been excessively hot, and the
forced march had fatigued us so much, that it was absolutely necessary
to halt and to give the soldiers time to cook their soup and to
recover a little. In two hours we were to start afresh. The soldiers
were indignant at such an unusually long and rapid march, and railed
at the harshness and cruelty of the General, who they said sacrificed
his men to a mere caprice.
The soldiers, of course, could not see the need for such excessive
haste; some poor fellows moreover had been left on the road for want
of mules to carry them. I several times heard the exclamation, “I wish
that the Bedouins would grow out of the ground by millions and put an
end to us all.” The fatigues and hardships of this kind of war at last
produce perfect indifference to life, which becomes a mere burden.
Indeed it is an old saying, “That nothing is better calculated to
render the soldier careless of danger than fatigue and privation.”
When Sylla was made commander of the Roman forces against Mithridates,
he found the Roman legions so enervated by ease and luxury that they
were afraid to face the enemy; but Sylla worked them and marched them
about till they besought him to lead them to battle. He then attacked
the enemy and beat them.
General Changarnier, who commanded us, is known by the whole army as a
brave soldier who exacts the very utmost from others as well as from
himself, and who accordingly most often succeeds in his enterprises.
He is more feared than loved by the men; who say, “_C’est un homme dur
ce Changarnier_.” He appears to be a few years above fifty, powerfully
built, but with a head somewhat weather-beaten by the storms of life.
He has been fighting in Africa ever since the first occupation.
After two hours’ rest, when night had completely closed in, we started
again in perfect silence, and left our watch-fires burning to make
the enemy believe that we were going to bivouac on the _plateau_; we
wound up the mountain, which is far steeper on this side than even on
the other. This night was one of the most painful of my whole life.
The oppressive heat and forced march had so exhausted us that we
marched more asleep than awake, and were only roused by striking our
feet against a stone, or our noses against the knapsack of the man
before us. From time to time we were reminded of our danger by the
order “_Serrez! serrez!_” and indeed it was necessary to keep close,
for whoever lagged behind was lost. We all dropped down asleep during
the short stoppages which inevitably took place at the difficult
passages; and without doubt we left behind us many sleepers, who were
not perceived by the rear-guard and instantly fell a prey to the
Bedouins. About four o’clock in the morning we passed the _Fontaine de
la Croix_, where we bivouacked on our former march; thus we still had
a league to march before reaching the highest point of the Col. From
this spot the battalions separated, in order to ascend the various
heights. By five we were at the top, almost without firing a shot.
These positions are so impregnable that the Bedouins could have driven
us back merely with stones if they had had any resolution. I am
convinced that the Kabyles of Budschia and Dschigeli would have sent
us home in a fine plight. As we had to wait for the arrival of the
main body, we established ourselves on the mountain top as well as we
could. Greatly to our annoyance, however, no water was to be found in
the neighbourhood, and we were obliged to fetch it a whole league from
the _Fontaine de la Croix_.
Towards mid-day, when the fog cleared off, we discovered the blue
Mediterranean beyond the plain of Metidja and the Sahel mountains. We
greeted it as our second home, with loud cheers and cries of “Land,”
for the sea was to us what the harbour is to the sailor after a long
and perilous voyage. From this point, one of the highest of the lesser
Atlas, we enjoyed the most glorious prospect. On one side we saw the
vast plain of Metidja and the sea beyond it; on the other, several
small valleys, where pastures still green proved the fruitfulness
of the soil. In one of these little valleys we espied a few huts
and a flock of sheep grazing in peaceful ignorance of their danger.
This time the poor inhabitants of the hovels were protected by their
poverty: had the prey been better worth taking, a division of cavalry
would soon have been down upon them.
The sharp and broken outlines of the mountains and the dark foliage
of the olives, pines, and cedars, which clothe their sides, give a
singularly wild and sombre character to the Atlas range. The air at
this height is sharp and piercing even in summer; and while we could
scarcely breathe for the heat below, we here buttoned our capotes
up to our very chins. This appeared to be the land of vultures and
eagles, which soared and screamed around us by hundreds, apparently
highly offended at their unexpected guests. They came so near to us
that several of them were shot by the soldiers with split bullets;
but they were a perverse and stiff-necked generation, which even when
mortally wounded did not cease from biting and clawing.
The main body arrived towards evening, and on the following morning we
continued our march towards the Metidja, with great alacrity and good
humour. Our knapsacks were light, and the prospect of making up at
Blidah for the hardships we had undergone infused new life into all of
us.
At noon we were already at the foot of the mountains, and a few hours
later the mosques and orange groves of Blidah lay before us.
It was indeed high time for us to return to the camp, for the number
of sick had increased frightfully of late; horses, mules, and donkeys
were all overloaded with them, and many a one who would long since
have been given over by the physicians in Europe still crawled in
our ranks. Our shoes and clothes were in rags; many even had wound
pieces of ox hide about their feet in default of shoes. We bivouacked
close by the town on the bank of a small brook. All the people in
the town came out to see us and to convince themselves that we were
still alive, for it had been reported several times that the column
was utterly destroyed. They lifted up their hands in amazement at
our deplorable appearance; and it was only on comparing ourselves
with these sleek and well-fed citizens that we perceived how wild and
wretched we looked, and that our faces were dingy yellow, and our
bodies dried up like so many mummies. I am convinced, that except on
the persons of the attendants on the sick, and some of the superior
officers, not even Shylock himself could have cut one pound of flesh
out of the whole column.
Arabs, Jews, and Christians vied with each other in offering us wine,
fruit, bread, &c., at very sufficient prices, for in Africa nothing is
gratis.
All discipline was now at an end: the officers were soon dispersed
among the various _cafés_ and _restaurants_, and the soldiers bought
as much bread, fruit, and wine as they could get for their few _sous_,
and seated themselves under the first shady tree they could find,
where they drank till all the miseries of life were forgotten.
[1] We are tempted to quote from “Two Years Before the Mast,”
a passage describing the effect produced by the sad spectacle
of a man overboard:—“Death is at all times solemn, but never
so much so as at sea; a man dies on shore, his body remains
with his friends, and ‘the mourners go about the streets;’ but
when a man falls overboard at sea and is lost, there is a
suddenness in the event, and a difficulty in realizing it,
which gives it an air of awful mystery. * * * All these things
make such a death particularly solemn, and the effect of it
remains upon the crew for some time. _There is more kindness
shown by the officers to the crew, and by the crew to one
another. There is more quietness and seriousness. The oath and
the loud laugh are gone._”—Page 12.—Trans.
CHAPTER VI.
Arab Valour—Abd-el-Kader—Snakes—Burning the Crops—Roman
Bridge—The Duke of Aumale falls sick—Plundering of a
Kabyle Village—The Prisoners—The Queen’s Tomb—Her Royal
Crown—Inexpediency of turning the Sword into a Ploughshare.
After stopping eight days to repair the state of our arms and shoes,
the column marched again to provision Milianah, and to lay waste the
plains of the Schellif with fire and sword. All the cavalry, save two
squadrons, were dismounted, and their horses loaded with all sorts of
provisions, rice, meal, coffee, sugar, &c. As we left Blidah rather
late, we were forced to pass the night on this side of the Col de
Mussaia, in an olive grove at the foot of the mountain. In all my life
I never saw so many small birds as in this grove; it was positively
alive with them. They twittered and warbled in all tongues; the
bullfinches especially delighted me with a melody so like that which
they sing in my own country, that I fancied I recognised some old
acquaintances among them. The soldiers contrived to catch a number
of young birds, who, dreaming of no danger had ventured out of their
nests, and to cook them for supper.
On the following day we ascended the Col; not indeed without fatigue,
but with infinitely less than the first time, for we were already
steeled by habit. We bivouacked on the _Plateau des Reguliers_, at the
opposite foot of the mountain.
We reached the plains of the Schellif in two days without molestation.
The heat began to be intolerable to us in this region, bare of
trees, and surrounded by high mountains, which shut out every breath
of air. Towards mid-day we could scarcely breathe, and many of our
number perished from thirst and fatigue, some died on the spot; they
suddenly fell down backwards, foaming at the mouth, and clenching
their hands convulsively, and in ten minutes they were dead. To add
to our distresses, a body of three or four thousand Arab horsemen
appeared on our left flank, headed by Abd-el-Kader in person. We were
in the most awkward position in the world; all our cavalry, save two
squadrons, was dismounted, and the column scattered over a space of
at least two leagues. I am convinced that if Abd-el-Kader had made a
determined attack upon us at that moment he might have annihilated
the whole column. Instead of this, only a few irregular parties of
horsemen galloped towards us, discharged their rifles, and retreated.
Once or twice a considerable number of Arabs assembled together, as
if preparing to attack us. But our General immediately ordered some
grenades to be thrown among them out of a few field-pieces, and the
whole body was scattered like chaff before the wind. This want of
resolution in our enemies was extraordinary, for Abd-el-Kader must
have known our position, and even if he had not a single spy, he
could perceive it with his own eyes. We saw him several times within
musket-shot, galloping about with his attendants, to give orders. I
believe that this inaction was owing to no want of courage or capacity
in him, but to the character of the Bedouins, and to their peculiar
mode of warfare, which nothing can induce them to alter. They never
attack _en masse_, except when they can overwhelm the enemy with their
numbers. By this practice the Bedouins have drawn upon themselves the
reproach of cowardice from the French; whether with justice is not for
me to decide; but I think that much might be said on behalf of the
Bedouins.
It is quite true that they have no courage collectively. The reason
is, that they want those ties by which masses are held together,—a
higher degree of civilisation, and a leading idea,—either love of
a common country, or religious enthusiasm. The former is unknown to
the Bedouin, whose tribe is his country, and whose next neighbour is
often his bitterest foe: he is never, like the Arab, deeply imbued
with religion; to him Allah is a mere god of plundering and murder.
To these causes is added the custom of a thousand years; these tribes
have known no other mode of warfare since the days of the Numidians.
The Bedouin conception of bravery and of cowardice is totally unlike
ours. He sees no cowardice in retreating before a superior force,
and returning to the charge at a more favourable opportunity, but
necessary prudence—a quality which stands as high in his estimation
as valour. The Bedouin would never shrink from the European in single
combat, and frequently surpasses him in endurance of privations, and
even of death, which he meets with the resignation of a philosopher.
We afterwards heard that Abd-el-Kader had endeavoured by every means
in his power to induce the chiefs to make a regular and organised
attack upon the column, but all in vain. That very evening we reached
the foot of the mountains just below Milianah, and the favourable
moment for attacking us was past.
Abd-el-Kader is a handsome man of about thirty-seven or thirty-eight.
Although dressed in the common Bedouin bernouse and turban, he was
easily distinguishable from his attendants by the splendor of his arms
and of his horses. Even from a distance I thought I could trace on his
dark and bearded countenance the intrepidity and religious enthusiasm
by which he is distinguished. His bearing was proud and noble. I could
not help watching this man with a certain degree of admiration, for he
alone is the soul of the whole resistance to the French; without him
no three tribes would act in common. I heartily wished him a better
fate; for his lot will be either to fall in battle, or to be betrayed
by his friends, like Jugurtha, to whom he may well be compared,
although to equal courage and perseverance he unites an elevation
of character not ascribed to the Numidian of old by historians, who
indeed were nowise impartial.
Abd-el-Kader has strictly forbidden his soldiers to kill the prisoners
in cold blood, and in order to put a stop to this practice among the
Bedouins, he pays ten Spanish dollars for every living captive. The
Emir received an almost European education from his father, who was
a marabout highly venerated by the people, and who lived for several
years in Italy, where he became acquainted with European habits and
manners.
Abd-el-Kader exercises great influence over both the Bedouins and the
Arabs, from being their ecclesiastical as well as temporal ruler: he
is the Khaleefeh (Vicegerent of the Prophet). I have seen one of the
Arabs of our own allied cavalry reverentially touch the earth with
his brow on hearing the name of Abd-el-Kader; but his veneration
would nowise have deterred him from murdering or taking prisoner the
Khaleefeh and his whole zemala.
The column bivouacked at the foot of the mountain, where we had one
whole day’s rest, while the provisions and ammunition intended for
Milianah were being carried up into the town. It was the turn of our
company to furnish outposts,—a service which recurred every sixth
day, and I was sent with twelve others to the outermost line.
At the foot of these mountains there is an abundance of water such as
is rarely seen in Asia. Streams gushed out of the ravines and covered
the surrounding country with the most luxuriant vegetation. There was
an equal abundance of snakes, which we could well have spared. We
had established ourselves behind a clump of wild olives to protect
ourselves from the scorching rays of the sun, and I had formed a sort
of small arbour and lain down under it to sleep, so as to be fresh
for the night, when of course rest was out of the question. Scarce
had I fallen asleep when I was roughly shaken and called by my name.
I jumped up and seized my arms, thinking that at the very least
Abd-el-Kader and his whole army were upon us, when my comrades showed
me a huge snake coiled up behind my knapsack. It gazed enquiringly
at us with its wise-looking eyes, and glided away into the bushes as
soon as we attempted to seize it. We now held a council of war; for
although the snake had as yet behaved with great propriety, we thought
the presence of such guests during the night highly unwelcome. We
accordingly resolved to set fire to the brushwood, and before long it
was in a blaze. Presently our friend slipped out in haste and tried
to take refuge in some bushes close by; but we fell upon it with
sabres and muskets, and one of us at last succeeded in pinning it to
the earth with his bayonet just behind the head. The creature hissed
and lashed fiercely with its tail, but all in vain, its last hour was
come. Its head was severed with a sabre from its body, which continued
to move for several hours. When we left the spot in the morning the
chief matador hung the snake round his neck as a trophy, and it was so
long as nearly to touch the ground on both sides, so that it measured
eight or nine feet at least.
We had not marched far over some marshy ground covered with rushes
and withered grass, when the battalions just before us separated as
if by word of command, and another snake darted in long curves down
the middle. We instantly made way for it to pass. The snake seemed
in a great hurry and instantly disappeared among the rushes. One of
the chief discomforts of Africa is the number of creeping things,
poisonous as well as harmless, and of wild beasts. They are all,
however, far less dangerous to man than is generally supposed. At any
rate bodies of men have nothing to fear from them, as they invariably
retreat before an advancing column. They only attack human beings when
urged by the utmost necessity, either of self-defence or of hunger. I
can only remember two instances of solitary sentinels being attacked
and torn in pieces in the night by hyænas, which are indeed the most
dangerous of all animals, as they kill for the mere pleasure of
killing, and not from hunger. There is also a great plenty of lizards,
scorpions, tarantulas, and all such vermin. The scorpions generally
lurk under the small stones; and great care should always be taken in
lying down to sleep, not to move them and thus disturb the scorpions,
which might then crawl over one’s hands or face and sting them. Land
tortoises abound in the marshy spots where the soldiers hunt for them
during the march and eat them for supper. They afford an excellent
soup and their flesh is as tender as chicken.
We marched only about two leagues and then bivouacked on the further
bank of the Schellif, in the very middle of a fine wheat field. The
whole left bank, as far as the foot of the mountains, was covered with
wheat and barley just ripe for the sickle.
We saw nothing more of Abd-el-Kader, who had marched westward along
the left bank of the Schellif the day before with all his cavalry.
From our bivouac we could trace his route by the clouds of dust. He,
probably, perceived that he had missed the favourable opportunity of
attacking us.
The column remained three days on the same spot, diligently employed
in cutting as much corn as possible, and in conveying it to Milianah
on every available horse, mule, and donkey in the camp. The harvest
was so abundant as to supply the town for a whole year. On the fourth
day we followed the course of the Schellif, burning the standing corn
as we went. We did not, like Samson, set fire to the corn fields of
the Philistines by driving into them three hundred foxes, with burning
torches tied to their tails. We had the advantage of the experience
of ages, and the noble inventions of modern times over the Israelite
hero. Lucifer matches were distributed among the rear-guard, with
which the crops were fired. We were once very near suffering from this
proceeding. Some roving Arabs had thoughtlessly set fire to the corn
on one side of the column: the wind blew from that quarter, and in
a moment the whole column was enveloped in flames. Fearful disorder
ensued, the terrified beasts of burden ran in all directions, and the
smoke was so thick as to prevent our seeing the troops before us.
A resolute enemy might at that moment have cut the whole column to
pieces.
After a march of two days we crossed back again to the right bank
of the Schellif, over the only bridge we ever found in the interior
of Africa. It had five arches, and appeared to be Roman, was built
of hewn stone, and as perfect as if only finished yesterday. At the
distance of one day’s march beyond this bridge the valley of the
Schellif becomes exceedingly narrow; the river pent between high
mountains, rushes like a torrent: ten or twelve leagues further the
valley again widens into a plain.
We bivouacked upon a _plateau_ on the right bank of the river. The
heights around us were covered with wild olives and dwarf oaks, and
the valleys with the finest ripe corn. As the General had reason to
suspect that we were near some rich Kabyle tribes, we remained on this
spot for several days, during which the cavalry and some chosen bodies
of infantry made excursions into the surrounding country every morning
before dawn, and returned triumphant and loaded with booty every day.
During all this time the number of sick increased fearfully: the
forced marches, the excessive heat, and the quantity of meat which the
soldiers ate without any other food but bad sea-biscuit, undermined
their health. Diarrhœa and fever prevailed in every division.
The mules were soon so loaded that many who could no longer drag
themselves along were rejected and left to die on the road.
The troops were so thoroughly disheartened that many of the soldiers
destroyed themselves for fear of falling into the hands of the
Bedouins. One of our battalion, who had been ill for some time,
actually killed himself on a day of rest. On the pretext of cleaning
his musket he went down to the river side and blew out his brains.
From this point we turned back by the same route, across the bridge
and along the left bank of the Schellif, and then following the foot
of the mountains, we resumed our incendiary labours. This time,
however, we were not left so entirely unmolested, for on the second
day Abd-el-Kader’s horsemen galloped down from the mountains and
attacked the right flank and the rear of the column with so much
vigour, that the General was obliged to halt several times in order
to send reinforcements to the rear-guard. Thus, with the thermometer
at 100°, in a plain entirely bare of trees, the July sun darting its
scorching rays full upon our heads, we had to return the incessant
fire of the Bedouins, enveloped in the smoke and flames of the burning
corn, and without a drop of water to quench our thirst! Truly, if
purgatory be half so hot, one year’s penance would suffice to wipe out
more sins than I have committed in all my life.
The Bedouins pursued us as far as the eastern boundary of the plain,
where they left us by degrees. The number of the sick had increased
so terribly that the General now resolved to send them to Blidah,
and then to march with the rest of the column into the mountains of
Cherchell. Among the sick was the Duke of Aumale, who had been carried
in a litter for several days, and, indeed, this was probably the true
reason for sending the sick to the hospital. General Bedeau, who had
been made _Maréchal-de-Camp_ during this expedition, commanded the
convoy of sick. The Duke of Aumale[2] succeeded General Bedeau in the
command of the 17th light regiment, which had distinguished itself
most honourably in every expedition.
From this point the column marched to Medeah in one day, a distance of
at least sixteen leagues. We stayed two days in that town to rest the
weary soldiers.
Our cavalry had the good fortune to surprise a hostile tribe concealed
in a neighbouring valley, and to take a great number of cattle. On
leaving Medeah we crossed the main ridge of the lesser Atlas to the
westward of the Col de Mussaia, through some defiles which took the
whole day to pass. We had not, however, such a height to climb as
at the Col. We followed the course of a mountain torrent which forms
several considerable waterfalls. The heights on either side were
covered with the finest pine and olive trees, and the whole scene was
wildly beautiful.
We reached the northern slope of the lesser Atlas on the second
evening, and bivouacked in a small olive grove. Directly after
midnight our cavalry started in deep silence, and the rest of the
column followed before daybreak. We marched westward into the
mountains, between Milianah and Cherchell, the abode of several
considerable Kabyle tribes, among which the Beni-Manasser is the most
powerful. We marched very rapidly, only halting ten or fifteen minutes
at a time, till four o’clock P.M., when we heard several
shots just before us, which re-echoed a thousand times among the high
mountains. As we concluded that our cavalry were already engaged with
the hostile tribes, we hastened our march, and were soon met in a
valley by a tribe of Kabyles,—men, women, and children, and countless
herds of cattle, flying before our cavalry. After a short resistance,
most of the men able to bear arms,—some on horseback, and some on
foot,—fled in all directions, and hid themselves in the mountains.
The old men, women and children, and twelve or fifteen thousand head
of beasts, consisting of sheep, goats, two thousand cows, and a few
camels, fell into our hands. Many of the goats had four horns.
As our bivouac was not far from some Kabyle villages, we of course
went to look at them. They lay almost hidden at the foot of the
mountains, and high hedges of prickly pear surrounded and nearly
concealed from sight the low huts built of rough stone, and covered
with a flat roof of rushes. Most of these hovels had already been set
on fire by our cavalry. Some of the soldiers searched the burning huts
at the peril of their lives, but found nothing save a few sheep skins,
a pot of honey, and some cats, who seemed unwilling to leave their
homes.
We made a sortie on each of the two following days, but came too late
on both. The tribes were informed of what had happened, and we found
nothing but their empty huts.
The prisoners, chiefly old men, women and children, were driven with
the cattle, under a special guard, in the middle of the column; it
was heart-rending to see women and children, unaccustomed to walking
and barefooted, compelled to follow the rapid march of the column,
over rocks and briars. Their feet were soon torn and bleeding, and
they dragged themselves along with the greatest difficulty. They
seldom made any complaint: only when one of their number dropped from
fatigue, and was left behind, they all uttered a loud wail.
We now left the mountain and turned back towards the plains of the
Metidja, where we encountered all the horrors of an African summer.
Every trace of vegetation had disappeared; the burning sun had so
parched the soil that it was full of clefts large enough for a man to
hide in. The dark green of the few scattered olive trees was changed
to a dirty yellow; in short, a northern winter with its snowy mantle,
is a cheering sight when compared to the desert and melancholy aspect
of an African summer.
During the summer months the nights are as cold as the days are hot;
the change of temperature is felt at sunset, and towards daybreak a
heavy dew falls, as penetrating as rain, and very dangerous to the
health; it frequently produces diseases of the eyes which end in
blindness. The natives invariably draw their bernouses over their
heads at night to protect them from the bad effects of the dew; we
have adopted this custom, and the soldiers seldom lie down at night
without a cap or a handkerchief over their faces.
We marched towards Blidah across the plain at the foot of the Sahel
mountains. This ridge of the chain is low at this point; it is highest
near Algiers. It contains most beautiful and fruitful vales, in which
are forsaken gardens and villas which once belonged to the Moors. The
heights are covered with dwarf oaks and other shrubs which shelter
numbers of wild boars, smaller and less fierce than those of Europe:
the soldiers often kill them with their bayonets. The natives assert
that the Spaniards brought these unclean animals into the country out
of spite. As swine are an abomination to the Mahomedan, and may not
be eaten, the breed increases rapidly. The strongest expression of
contempt that an Arab can use to an European is “Haluf,” (swine).
At about three leagues from Coleah, on some high table land in the
Sahel mountains, stands a gigantic African monument, which both the
Arab and the French call the Queen’s Tomb. It is in the form of a
marabout, built of rough stone, and has every appearance of great
antiquity. The natives attach the following legend to it. Once upon
a time a Spanish Queen landed on this coast with an army of fifty
thousand men, in order to conquer the country; but even at her landing
an evil omen foretold her failure: as she left her vessel the crown
fell from her head into the sea, and could never be found again.
A great battle was fought on the very spot where the marabout now
stands, the Queen was beaten and destroyed with her whole army, and
the tomb was raised by the Arabs as a memorial of their victory. The
Arabs still seek the lost crown on this coast, and it is said that
from time to time pearls of prodigious size and beauty are found upon
the beach. Some of the better informed among the Arabs have told me
that the monument contains graves of the Numidian Kings, which seems
rather more probable: at any rate it is of high antiquity. Nor do I
remember to have read of any Spanish or other Queen who ever invaded
this country.
Not very far from Blidah, we came upon several French regiments of
the line bivouacking on the plain, and at work upon a ditch and
breastwork which the Governor had commanded to be thrown up the whole
way from the sea to Blidah,—a distance of ten leagues,—in order to
protect the Metidja from the attacks of the Bedouins. The ditch is
about ten feet deep by twenty wide, with a breastwork in proportion,
strengthened with palisades; small blockhouses are built at intervals
of a thousand paces to command the ditch.
This work will very much impede, if it does not totally prevent, the
nocturnal forays of the Bedouins; it will, at any rate, put a stop
to their coming on horseback, and in great troops. If a few should
even steal in on foot between the blockhouses, they would not be able
to drive away their prey, such as cattle, &c., which is their chief
object. The completion of this eighth wonder of the world is much to
be desired, for the protection of the lives and properties of the
unfortunate colonists in the plain, and as an inducement to others to
settle there, for colonisation has made very little progress hitherto.
Buffarik, a small village chiefly inhabited by Germans, is the only
colony in the plain.
Coleah, Duera, and Delhi Ibrahim are the only colonies of any
importance in the Sahel, and even there the whole colonisation
consists of _cafés_, canteens, and a few kitchen gardens.
At Coleah they have begun to form a colony of old worn out soldiers,
but I have great doubts of its success. These veterans, it is true,
have the double advantage of being tolerably well used to the climate
and of knowing how to conduct themselves with prudence and coolness
when attacked by the enemy; on the other hand, an old soldier
generally makes a very bad peasant, and is ten times more patient of
the dangers and hardships of war than of daily work with spade and
plough. He usually takes unto himself some profligate woman not at all
likely to attach him to his home, and then of course, neglects his
farm, and soon dissipates the small sum allowed him by the Government,
and the end of it all is, that he sells his oxen and his plough, turns
off his female companion and enlists for a few years more. And now
the old fellow who used to curse the service heartily, finds it quite
a decent and comfortable way of life, and it is amusing to hear with
what indignation he speaks of the life of a colonist.
The only means of establishing a permanent colony in Africa would be
for the French Government to send over, at some expense it is true,
a number of real agricultural families from the north of France, or,
better still, from Germany. The southern Frenchmen are totally unfit
for colonists. The only kind of agriculture which they would be able
to pursue with any profit is the cultivation of the grape, and this is
strictly prohibited, for fear of injuring the mother country. Hitherto
the Government never seems to have been really in earnest about the
colonisation of Africa.
The column returned to Algiers through Blidah, Buffarik, and Duera.
From Algiers we are to be distributed into summer quarters: winter
quarters do not exist here. One battalion is to be sent, for the
present, to Mustapha Superieur, the depôt of the Foreign Legion; and
we shall soon go to Coleah, a town in the Sahel mountains, in a most
healthy situation, to recruit after our fatigues and losses.
[2] The Duke of Aumale has since made his entry into Paris at
the head of this regiment. ’Tis a pity that it was not then in
the same plight to which it was reduced by this expedition,
that the Parisians might have formed some idea of what the war
in Africa really is.
CHAPTER VII.
Inspection of our Regiment—Military Intendants—_Hôpital du Dey_—Its
Inmates—Eastern Garden.
Algiers, September, 1841.
Our regiment has lain eight days under the walls of Algiers, between
the Casabah and _Fort l’Empereur_, on the very highest point of the
whole town. Some wooden sheds have been assigned to us as quarters.
We marched hither from Coleah in two days without great exertion: and
are in daily expectation of embarking to join the column at Mostaganem.
A few days ago our regiment was inspected by the Military Intendant
and the Inspector-General, whose duty it is to examine the state
of the troops every three months: but as we have been constantly
in active service, this is the first time since I have joined the
Legion that a review has taken place. These officers are supposed
to assure themselves that the troops and materials of war are in
efficient condition, and to see that the men have everything to which
they are entitled. The whole affair is however a mere formality.
The two gentlemen walk through the ranks, look at the reports, and
ask here and there a soldier whether he has any complaints to make:
after which they get into their carriage, complimenting the Commander
in the most flattering terms, on the admirable condition of his
regiment. Reclamations made by the soldiers are satisfied in the
most summary manner by arrest for groundless complaints. There is
unfortunately often cause enough for complaint in all the regiments,
but the means of appeal are so complicated that a soldier has the
greatest difficulty in making his grievance known. Any commissioned
or non-commissioned officer who ventured to assist him would never be
forgiven, and must give up all hopes of advancement as long as he
lives. Nothing is so odious to the French as a _reclameur_.
I do not think that the Military Intendants answer the purpose for
which they were intended,—that of preventing abuses. If the soldiers
have no confidence in their superior officers, they will have still
less in these Intendants, who are not at all more infallible, and who
in case of any abuse only go shares with the former. At all events the
Intendants are universally hated by the soldiers. They are generally
sent here by favour and protection, to recruit their broken fortunes;
as the Roman Prætors and Proconsuls were sent into the conquered
provinces. They know nothing of the soldiers, and care nothing about
them. That their office is a very lucrative one, is sufficiently
proved by the luxurious lives which most of them lead. A harem of
women of all nations, balls and dinners, compensate these gentlemen
for the want of the Parisian _salons_.
I walked to the great hospital called _l’Hôpital du Dey_ to visit a
sick friend. This building stands on the western side of the city, in
the gardens formerly belonging to the Dey, and its position on the
slope of the Sahel, open to the refreshing sea breeze, is equally
healthy and delightful. The Dey’s palace is converted into apartments
for sick officers, and for those connected with the administration
of the hospital, while as many as fifty or sixty wooden sheds have
been erected in the vast garden, and constitute the actual hospital.
These are capable of containing eight thousand men, and yet they are
sometimes insufficient for the number of sick who pour in from all
sides. They are well built and provided with beds, but not solid
enough to keep out the heat of summer. The treatment and care of the
patients are not bad for Africa. The soldiers, indeed, complain that
they are starved, and that all their diseases are doctored with rice
water and tisane; but these are good remedies for diarrhœa and fevers,
which are the prevailing disorders. Besides, discontent is one of the
characteristics of the soldier. At any rate, the hospitals are much
improved since Bugeaud’s arrival. In several places they have begun
to build strong massive hospitals, to replace the wooden sheds; and
the frequent personal visits of the Governor have done much towards
abolishing the prevailing abuses and the rough treatment of the
surgeons.
With considerable difficulty I found my friend, who was already
convalescent; as he was just starting for a walk along the winding
paths of the garden, I accompanied him. Everything had been done
here to satisfy the southern longing after shade and water. Earthen
pipes conveyed the freshest water the whole way from the mountains
to various parts of the garden in which it gushed forth, and thick
winding alleys of magnificent orange and almond trees afforded the
most refreshing shade. All the sick who were able to leave their beds
were assembled in these shady walks enjoying the cool sea breeze; this
host of ghostlike beings crawling slowly along in their grey capotes
and white night-caps had a most singular appearance; their glazed eyes
looked sadly out of their sallow emaciated faces, all of which bore
traces of misery, and most of melancholy and home-sickness.
It was easy to guess the character and station of the invalids from
the nature of their conversation or amusements. Some lay on the ground
playing at cards or with dice: these were old veterans who had long
given up all idea of a peaceable domestic life, and whose only object
was to kill time.
Others walked up and down relating their exploits and occasionally
criticizing their generals and officers;—these still had a remnant of
enthusiasm for their calling. Others again sat on the benches around
with drooping heads, and talked of their homes and of the mistresses
they had left behind. Several times I heard the mournful exclamation,
“_Ma belle France!_” Poor devils! many of them will never see fair
France again.
I took leave of my friend with a melancholy feeling, methought I had,
like Odysseus, gone down living into the world of shadows.
CHAPTER VIII.
Voyage to Mostaganem—Storm—Funeral at
Sea—Landing—Bivouac—Matamon—Bey of Mostaganem—Arabic
Music—Captain Lièvre—African Spring—French and Arab Soldiers.
Mostaganem, October, 1841.
On the 4th instant our battalion went on board a brig-of-war, of
fourteen guns, which was to take us from Algiers to Mostaganem. We
sailed under the most favourable auspices: a gentle easterly breeze
filled our sails and we soon lost sight of Algiers. At noon we passed
La Torre Chica where the French landed in 1830, and from whence they
marched upon Algiers. It is the best landing-place on the whole coast.
Towards evening when we were nearly opposite Cherchell the wind fell
and was succeeded by a dead calm which lasted all night. The night was
such as can only be seen and felt on the Mediterranean: the air was so
warm that I could not endure the heat between decks, and accordingly
brought up my blanket and lay down upon deck. The sky was deep blue
and the stars seemed larger and nearer to me than I had ever seen them
before. The ship floated like a nutshell on the boundless and glassy
surface of the sea.
This ominous calm was followed by a fearful storm. The day broke
with the most threatening appearances: the sun rose blood-red and
evidently with no good intentions. Numbers of sea fowl gathered
round the ship screeching with hunger; a quantity of small fish
sprang terror-stricken out of the water, in which they were pursued
by the larger ones; and on reaching the surface they were instantly
devoured by the gulls: for even the brute creation acknowledges but
one right—that of the strongest. In the distance we saw a shoal of
porpoises tumbling head over heels towards the south-west. These signs
made the old sailors shake their heads and prophecy a bad night;—nor
were they deceived. Towards evening we saw the sea heaving from the
south-west, as if urged by some unknown power. The Captain ordered the
sails to be shortened, and at the shrill whistle of the boatswain some
twenty sailors ran up the rigging. The top-sails were scarce reefed
before the storm was upon us. The ship reeled so much under the shock
of the gale that our masts nearly touched the water: a loud crack was
suddenly heard, and one of the sails flew like a seagull through the
air; the bolt-ropes had given way. The good ship now righted. In a
moment all but a try-sail was made snug, and the head of the vessel
was turned to meet the blast.
We retreated before the beating waves, but only step by step, like a
brave warrior. By this time night had closed in with a sky as dark and
dreary as old chaos; the sea alone was bright and clear, as if the
better to show its yawning depths. At one moment the ship hovered on
the top of a towering wave, and at the next she plunged so deep that
the first rolling wave threatened to swallow us up.
I leaned against the mast, holding by a rope for fear of being washed
overboard, entranced by the sight of the raging sea, and astonished
at its beauty. Beautiful as is the sea in repose, it is far more
beautiful in anger. The calm fills us with dreary melancholy, while
the storm inspires us with the full feeling of our own power and
activity. In such moments as these I never think of danger.
On the following morning we saw the Balearic Isles just behind us, and
were losing ground. The dark olive woods of the island of Majorca rose
higher and higher out of the sea, and we had the agreeable prospect of
becoming very closely acquainted with the jagged rocky shore of the
island, and of trying the hardness of our skulls against that of its
stones.
Most fortunately the storm somewhat abated, and the wind veered round
to the northward, so that we could set a few of our sails and steer
our old course towards Mostaganem.
Although the north wind favoured us, we made very little way that day,
as the sea ran very high from the south-west and the ship laboured
violently and was tossed like a ball on the ocean. During the night
the sea went down a little, and we continued our course with a
moderate north-wind.
One of our battalion died this morning: the body was lashed upon a
board and lowered into the sea without further ceremony. “_Vois tu,
Pierre, comme il nous regarde_,” said an old sailor to one of his
messmates, pointing to the already distant corpse. “To be sure,”
answered the other “they all do so as long as the ship is in sight.”
I looked after him, and true enough, each time the dead man rose and
sunk with the waves, he turned his pale face towards the vessel. No
class of men are more superstitious than sailors, unless indeed it be
soldiers.
Towards evening we saw the coast of Mostaganem, and on the top of
a high rock the town with its fort and surrounding blockhouses.
Mostaganem has no proper harbour, only a roadstead which cannot be
used except in calm weather. It was night when we cast anchor, and as
the sea was then smooth and might possibly become rough, the captain
sent us ashore in his boats. As he was assisted in this operation by
several larger boats which came from the shore, the battalion was soon
landed. It was too late to march up to the town, so we took up our
well-known quarters in the _Hôtel à la Belle Etoile_. Our bed was soon
made; every one wrapped himself as well as he could in his blanket,
laid his head on his knapsack, and was soon lulled to sleep by the
regular murmur of the waves.
In a short time I woke again; the deepest silence reigned around me,
and the stars looked down upon me as bright and calm and cheerful as
if they had never known grief, nor troubled themselves in the least
about the miseries of the unfortunate dwellers upon earth. The solemn
silence of nature was only broken by the chafing of the waves against
the rocks. I lay and watched wave after wave break at my feet, till
I gradually sunk into a most pleasing reverie. In spite of all the
hardships and distresses it has inflicted upon me,—in spite of sea
biscuit and sea sickness, I still love the sea. When a boy, my secret
and favourite scheme was to build me a castle on the sea shore,
therein to end my days, and at last to die like the king of Thule:
“There drank the old carouser
His last—last spirit’s glow,
Then flung the hallowed wine cup
Down to the flood below.
“He saw it falling, filling,
And sinking in the main;
For him—his eyes were sinking—
He never drank again.”[3]
That was indeed a jovial and glorious death! I could not wish a better.
After daybreak we marched to Mostaganem, which stands half a league
from the sea, and took up our quarters in some wooden sheds under the
walls of Matamor.
Matamor is a small Moorish fort built on a rock commanding the town.
Here the Spaniards formerly won a great victory over the Moors, and
thence the name Matamoros (kill the Moors).
Mostaganem is separated from this fort by a considerable brook, which
rises at about two leagues up the mountain. The town is accessible
only from the south, by one solitary gate; on every other side
it is surrounded by a deep ravine at the bottom of which roars a
mountain torrent, or by lofty and precipitous walls of rock. It would
therefore seem easy enough to defend Mostaganem against any attack,
but unfortunately Fort Matamor, which should protect the town, itself
needs protection, as it is commanded by a neighbouring height, and its
walls are not of sufficient strength to resist heavy ordnance; and
thus it was that the French obtained possession first of the fort and
subsequently of the town.
Mostaganem contains four or five thousand inhabitants, Arabs,
Spaniards and Jews, besides the French regiment in garrison. The town
must formerly have been much larger, as is shown by the number of
ruins scattered without the walls; but, with the exception of a few
mosques, there is no building of any importance. The former citadel,
the Casabah, is in ruins, and is only garrisoned by some fifty or
sixty pairs of storks who have founded a colony on the extensive walls.
Almost as much Spanish is spoken here as French or Arabic. Nearly
all the natives speak a corrupt Spanish, a kind of _lingua franca_,
which prevails in all the towns on the coast of Africa. The younger
generation, however,—boys from 10 to 14—speak French with tolerable
fluency, but somewhat marred by their deep guttural tone. The ease
with which Arabs and Bedouins continue to imitate whatever they have
but once seen or heard is very remarkable. Nature seems to have
bestowed this gift of imitation on half-savage nations to compensate
them for the want of original invention.
The General lives in the town, where some of the best houses have been
arranged for him and his staff; the troops are quartered in wooden
sheds, partly in the town and partly under the walls of Matamor.
These sheds would hold as many as fifteen thousand men, but the
actual number is nine thousand, including the allied cavalry, which
is composed of from two to three thousand Arabs and Bedouins under
the command of a native leader, called the Bey of Mostaganem. He is
a fine handsome man of about forty, and was formerly a friend and
devoted adherent of Abd-el-Kader, in which capacity he gave the French
much trouble. He once proposed to Abd-el-Kader to make an attempt
to recover his lost town of Mascara which the French had taken and
then left, ill provisioned and worse garrisoned: the Emir did not
enter into the scheme with sufficient alacrity to please the Bey who
denounced Abd-el-Kader as a coward, and threatened to desert him and
to join the French. This was no sooner said than done. He and his two
or three thousand horsemen went over to the French, and he has been
their most faithful ally ever since. The General treats him with the
greatest distinction, and his own people reverence him as a prince.
He never goes out without a considerable suite; on his left rides a
marabout, and on his right the officer whose duty is to shelter him
from the sun with a huge yellow umbrella; he is preceded by musicians
beating the tam tam, a large drum, accompanied by pipes and cymbals.
They always play the same tune, which seems to be a triumphal march,
discordant enough to European ears, but delightful to Arab ones. The
moment the tam tam sounds, the Arabs rock themselves to and fro in
their saddles with pleasure; and I must confess, that diabolical as I
thought this music at first, I grew fond of it in time, and something
seemed wanting to me if the Arab march was not played on entering or
leaving the bivouac; so true is it that old familiar tunes affect us
most powerfully. Most likely it is less the music itself than the
crowd of images and recollections which it awakens in our minds that
exercises such magic power over us. For this reason every regiment
should have a march of its own, to be played on particular occasions,
as is the case with most regiments here. When the well-known tones of
the regimental march strike upon the ear of the weary and exhausted
men, the effect is magical: their wan faces brighten up, their muscles
acquire fresh strength, and they march forwards with renewed vigour,
perhaps even humming a song.
It is said that the French Government pays the Bey as much as forty
thousand francs a year for his services. Each Arab soldier receives a
franc a day, out of which he has to maintain himself and his horse;
besides this pay he has his share of the razzia money. The booty made
on these expeditions is distributed, or should be so legally, among
the officers and soldiers according to their rank; but the common
soldiers complain, and perhaps not quite without reason, that the
higher powers are apt to keep the lion’s share for themselves. The
Bey and the superior officers lodge in the town; the rest of the Arab
cavalry is encamped without the walls on the southern side of the
brook. Each soldier has his own tent, where his wife or wives manage
his household; his horse stands picketed and usually ready saddled at
his door, both summer and winter. A few minutes suffice to prepare
this body of cavalry for action. At the sight of the colours flying on
the top of the mosque, and at the sound of the tam tam, the Arabs jump
on their horses and follow their leader. A few days ago a report was
suddenly spread that Abd-el-Kader had seized our cattle at pasture in
a valley about a league hence; the general march was beat, the colours
were hoisted on the top of the mosque, and the warlike tam tam was
sounded. In one moment all were under arms, and each division marched
as it was ready: the Arabs started off singly and galloped to the
scene of action, spurring their bleeding horses to their utmost speed;
they swung their long rifles round their heads as if they had been
javelins, crying aloud, “_Phantasia! Phantasia!_” in their joy and
eagerness for battle. It is not possible to conceive a wilder or more
beautiful picture of war. Before we could reach the spot, panting and
heated from running, the action was over. Our herds and their guards
had been attacked by a few bold robbers belonging to a neighbouring
tribe, who had fled at the approach of our Arab cavalry: a chase
ensued, but without success, for the robbers were as well mounted as
their pursuers, and had a considerable start and no inconsiderable
fear in their favour.
Most of our Arab horsemen are mounted on Bedouin horses, which are a
neglected variety of the Barbary breed; they are small and lean, but
of wonderful speed and endurance: with very short intervals of rest
they can keep up a sort of long gallop up and down hill, over any sort
of broken ground for the whole day, and they are as sure-footed as
goats.
The Arabs ride with matchless boldness down the precipitous and broken
sides of the mountains. Often, when we have been pursued by the enemy
and left them as we thought on the very top of the mountain, in a few
minutes we have been astonished by their bullets whistling about our
ears.
Besides the Bey’s horsemen, several considerable tribes of Arabs and
Bedouins near Mostaganem and Oran have submitted to the French, and
come daily to the town with their camels and horses to bring fruit,
corn, vegetables, cattle, &c., to market. They cannot fail to discover
in time that they derive the most solid advantages from the French
dominion, under which their lives and properties are far more secure
than they ever were before, and their produce is trebled in value.
The latter circumstance they are especially able to appreciate, for,
barbarians as they are, they well know the value of money; indeed, I
never saw men so rapacious as the Bedouins; perhaps their avarice is
called forth by the contact with Europeans.
It is highly entertaining to see the soldiers haggling with the
Bedouins for fruit, eggs, &c. The soldier comes with the full
intention of overreaching the Bedouin (_lui tirer une carotte_), and
of robbing him by force or fraud, of a fowl or of some eggs, for in
Africa everything is a lawful prize. The Bedouin, on the other hand,
who most likely has been cheated two or three times before, stands
resolutely on the defensive and never parts with anything until the
money is paid into his hand. This provokes abuse, in which, however,
the Bedouin far excels even the Frenchman, and blows not unfrequently
follow; but the Bedouin would rather lose his life than the smallest
fraction of his property, and the fight continues till a _Sergent de
police_ comes up and puts an end to it.
The hundreds of Bedouins mounted on camels and horses, and the
quantity of Arab cavalry interspersed with soldiers in various
uniforms, give a very peculiar air to Mostaganem. It is a perfect
picture of a camp, where in spite of want, misery, and of danger past,
present, and future, the childish, careless joyousness of the soldiers
is everywhere apparent.
About a league from here is Fort Massagran, famous for the heroic
defence by Captain Lièvre. I have heard an account of this whole
affair from eye-witnesses, and am fully persuaded that the defence
was one of the most gallant actions of the whole war, although it was
somewhat exaggerated by the French newspapers. The fort, the walls of
which are tolerably high and strong, stands on a _plateau_ which falls
precipitously on the northern side, rendering the fort inaccessible in
that quarter. The village of Massagran lies somewhat lower down and
could only be defended indirectly.
Captain Lièvre had under him a hundred and fifty _disciplinaires_
and a few cannon, while for several days in succession the fort was
assailed by a host of six or eight thousand Bedouins, on foot and on
horseback, who made several attempts to carry the place by storm. All
their attacks were repulsed with the most determined coolness, until
at length the fort was relieved by troops sent from Mostaganem. It
is true that the garrison had the advantage of high walls and some
artillery, but any one who knows how powerfully so overwhelming a mass
of assailants affects men’s minds, can estimate the extraordinary
experience and intrepidity required in order to retain thorough
self-possession. The whole company of _disciplinaires_ who had formed
the garrison, were immediately reinstated among the regiments of the
line, and each soldier received a medal struck for the occasion.
Captain Lièvre was made a _Commandant_ and received the cross of the
Legion of Honour.
Commandant Lièvre has the reputation of a brave and distinguished
officer; he commanded a battalion of the fifty-third regiment, (if I
am not mistaken,) which formed part of our _colonne mobile_, and of
almost every expedition up to July 1842.[4]
Mostaganem and Oran have been for centuries the ports to which all
the caravans from the interior of Africa have come to exchange
their produce with that of the north. The towns of Mascara and
Tlemsen, which are but a few days’ march from hence, served them as
resting-places and warehouses; and they have lost the source of their
wealth and importance since the French occupation has driven the
caravan trade to Morocco.
The district south of Mostaganem may be called the home of the
Bedouins, if indeed these wanderers have a home. There the richest and
most powerful tribes fix their tents, sow and reap their corn, and
feed their flocks, purposes for which the country is well adapted. The
large plains between Mostaganem, Mascara, and Oran, and the fertile
valleys of the Schellif and the Mina, afford these nomades excellent
pasture for their numerous herds, and an unlimited run for their
horses and camels. During the whole winter, and till the month of
June, which is their harvest time, the Bedouins camp in these places;
but when the heat has burnt up whatever pasture was left, they retreat
into the valleys and defiles of the Atlas, where food of some sort,
though scanty, is still to be found for their flocks and herds.
Many of the tribes near Mostaganem and Oran have submitted to the
French; thanks to the zeal and activity of General Lamoricière, the
Governor of the province of Oran. They prefer paying a moderate
tribute and feeding their herds in peace, to seeing their property,
their wives and their children continually exposed to the unexpected
attack of a _colonne mobile_.
* * * * *
Middle of October.
Nature is just beginning to shake off the lethargy produced by the
deadly, parching heat of summer. A few rainy days are sufficient
to call into existence, as it were by magic, the most luxuriant
vegetation: the richest verdure has sprung up beneath the withered
grass, the leaves of the trees have lost their sickly yellow hue, the
buds have begun to burst, and the birds to sing their spring songs. In
short, this is the African spring, but I must assert my preference for
the real spring in Germany.
The revival of nature in the north is more powerful and all-pervading,
though not so sudden. In a northern climate every creature greets
with a more heartfelt gratitude the glorious freshness and beauty of
the woods and fields when their icy winter clothing has been stripped
off by the returning sun. A more joyful thrill runs through us when
the first lark rises towards heaven, pouring out its shrill hymn of
praise, and the confiding swallow builds her nest under the eaves
of our houses. It is far different here: it is true the song of the
birds still pleases me, and the green carpet of nature is refreshing
to my eyes. But not as in Europe. It may be, indeed, that the change
does not lie in nature but in myself: the experience of a few hard
years has, perhaps, blunted my feelings, and made me less capable of
enjoying her beauties.
The burst of vegetation was strongest in the valley which divides the
fort from the town, and which is watered by a stream. Every inch of
ground there is turned to the profit of man: magnificent fruit trees,
pomegranates, figs, and oranges, and the most various vegetables cover
the ground, and Spaniards, Arabs, Jews, and Frenchmen are diligently
employed in cultivating the fruitful soil. The soldier alone thinks
this manual labour beneath his dignity, and lies at full length under
a shady fig tree smoking a cigar and drinking his last sou’s-worth
of Spanish wine. Others are washing their shirts and gaiters at the
brook: “_Mort de ma vie_,” cries one; “How much better my Suzette
would wash these shirts!” Another bitterly regrets the three sous he
has expended in soap, which might have been so much better laid out
on a pint of Spanish wine. These sallies produce general and joyous
laughter. Poor fellows! these few days of rest and relaxation can
scarce be grudged them.
The cavalry of the Bey, who lie at a little distance in strange,
picturesque groups, form a remarkable contrast to the active, restless
European soldiers. The Arab lies whole days before his tent, wrapped
in his bernouse and leaning his head on his hand. His horse stands
ready saddled, listlessly hanging his head almost to the ground, and
occasionally casting sympathising glances on his master. The African
might then be supposed phlegmatic and passionless, but for the
occasional flash of his wild dark eye, which gleams from under his
bushy brows. His rest is like that of the Numidian lion which, when
satisfied, stretches itself beneath a shady palm tree,—but beware of
waking him. Like the beasts of the desert and forest, and like all
nature in his own land, the Arab is hurried from one extreme to the
other,—from the deepest repose to the most restless activity. At the
first sound of the tam tam his foot is in the stirrup, his hand on his
rifle, and he is no longer the same man. He rides day and night, bears
every privation, and braves every danger, in order to make a prize of
some sheep, or ass, or of some enemy’s head. Such men as these are
hard to conquer, and harder still to govern: were they united into
one people, they would form a nation which could not only repulse the
French but bid defiance to the whole world. Unhappily for them every
tribe is at enmity with the rest; and this must ultimately lead to
their destruction, for the French have already learnt to match African
against African.
[3] I have borrowed these lines from a translation of Goethe’s
well-known ballad, “Der König in Thule,” by the Rev. Dr.
Hawtrey, published in his “Auswahl von Goethe’s Lyrischen
Gedichten.”—_Trans._
[4] I saw, at Paris, a caricature of the defence of Massagran.
A hare, in full uniform, stands on the walls in the act of
devouring several Bedouins; thousands more are at the foot of
the wall, filled with horror and amazement at this unheard-of
proceeding. Underneath is written— “Le Lièvre est un fameux
lapin.”
THE
PRISONERS OF ABD-EL-KADER:
OR,
FIVE MONTHS’ CAPTIVITY AMONG THE ARABS.
BY M. A. DE FRANCE,
LIEUTENANT IN THE FRENCH NAVY.
THE
PRISONERS OF ABD-EL-KADER.
———————————
CHAPTER I.
Life on board the brig—Expedition up the country—Am noosed by the
Arabs—They contend for the pleasure of cutting off my head—Adda
sends me to Abd-el-Kader—The head—Painful journey—Arrival at
Abd-el-Kader’s camp.
The brig Loiret had lain off Arzew for five months: I was serving on
board this vessel commanded by Lieutenant Roland de Chabert. It is
easy to conceive the dulness of our life on a desert coast devoid
of all interest or amusement. Our only pleasure was a walk upon the
beach, and even that was necessarily confined within the outposts,
as the Arabs were incessantly lurking about the few houses which the
French have built at Arzew, watching for an opportunity to carry off
the cattle. They had already tried more than one _coup-de-main_, but
hitherto had always been repulsed with loss.
On the 11th of August, 1836, we received orders to be ready next day,
with forty of our crew, to reconnoitre a well about two leagues beyond
our outposts, accompanied by part of the garrison. I was one of those
selected to form part of the expedition, and went to bed at midnight,
after my watch, overjoyed at the thoughts of next day’s excursion up
the country.
On the 12th, at four in the morning, M. Roland de Chabert, the
Commander of the Loiret, Dr. Clinchard, M. Bravois, and myself,
with forty of our crew, all armed, went on shore, and found Captain
Reveroni, the Commandant of the place, who informed us, that General
Létang had given orders to suspend the expedition till he could send
us reinforcements.
As we had made all the necessary arrangements on board for our
campaign, which we expected would occupy the whole day, we determined
to turn our freedom to account.
The Commander and the officers of the Loiret proposed to go and pick
up the balls, which our gunners had fired in yesterday’s practice.
We consulted the Commandant as to the feasibility of our scheme, and
the danger we might incur in going beyond the outposts. M. Reveroni
approved very much of our resolution, and assured us that there would
be no danger in passing the outposts, provided we did not go too
far. We accordingly took leave of M. Reveroni, and advanced into the
plain: at about a hundred yards beyond the outposts we halted, and
stationed some of our men on a height to give the alarm in case we
were surprised by the Arabs. Having taken this precaution, we began
to seek for our balls, and to measure the range of our guns; I was
thus occupied, at a distance of about two musket-shots from the rest
of the troop with the Commander, Dr. Clinchard, and two sailors, when
suddenly I espied a partridge close at hand, and after pointing it out
to Dr. Clinchard, I ran after it, taking aim.
I had gone only a few steps, when a troop of Arabs suddenly poured out
of a ravine, came down upon us at full gallop and surrounded us on all
sides. They advanced towards me, crying, “_Semi! Semi!_” (Friends!
Friends!) Deceived by these exclamations, I turned to explain them
to the Doctor, when one of the Arabs snatched at the musket which I
held in my hand; this showed me their real intentions, and I instantly
fired at the Arab who had tried to seize the musket, and broke his
shoulder. He dropped his gun, which was loaded, and was forced to
throw his arm round the neck of his horse to prevent falling off. I
darted at the gun, but two Arabs took aim at my head, and as I turned
away to avoid their fire, one ball gave me a slight wound on the head,
and the other passed through my shirt and grazed my breast.
I had not lost sight of the wounded Arab’s gun, and stooped again to
pick it up, when something rough slipped over my face; I raised my
hands to it, and felt a rope round my neck; at the same moment, a
violent jerk brought me to the ground, and an Arab, who had the other
end of the rope fastened to his saddle-bow, set off at full gallop.
My cries and entreaties were all in vain, the Arab spurred on his
horse, and I was dragged half strangled through rocks and briars.
This horrible torture lasted some minutes, until the horse was forced
by steep and stony ground to slacken his pace, when I got on my feet
again. In spite of the wounds with which my face, hands, and legs
were covered, and the stunning effects of such a shock, I still had
strength to seize the cord so as to keep myself from being strangled,
and to run forward and catch hold of the horse’s tail.
But as soon as the other Arabs, who had been dispersed by the sailors
sent to our assistance, rejoined their companions, I was loaded with
abuse and stripped nearly naked. Our misfortune had been seen from the
brig, which immediately fired upon the Arabs: but every shot cost me a
fresh shower of blows, and the horse to which I was tied took fright
at the noise and started forward, and I again fell to the ground;
the Arabs ran after me beating me all the time, and if by chance I
succeeded in getting on my feet, my pitiless persecutor set off again
at a gallop, casting looks of contempt upon me.
The incessant galloping of the horse and the violent jerks of the cord
which dragged and rolled me among the rocks and briars, leaving a
track of blood behind me—the abuse and the blows of the Arabs, lasted
a quarter of an hour: this sounds but a short time, but it seemed very
long to me.
As soon as the Arabs thought themselves out of reach of pursuit, they
halted in order to cut off my head. The rope was taken off my neck, my
hands bound behind my back, and I was tied to a dwarf palm tree. I was
so tired, that I lay down upon the ground perfectly indifferent to the
fate which I knew awaited all prisoners taken by the Arabs. I had but
one sad thought, of my family and my poor sister, but this was soon
driven away by the near approach of death and the animated scene in
which I, though chained and silent, was the principal person.
A violent discussion had arisen among the Arabs: they brandished their
sabres over my head, and each claimed the pleasure of cutting it off,
all crying at once, “I took him, I have a right to cut off his head;”
and each to prove the truth of his assertion showed a fragment of my
shirt or of my coat. The Arabs were already taking aim at one another,
and exclaiming, “I ought to cut off his head, and I will kill you
if you don’t let me enjoy my rights,” when a horseman galloped up
and threw into my lap the head of Jonquié, one of the sailors; as
I turned away in disgust at this horrible spectacle, I saw the Arab
whom I had wounded lying on the ground about fifty paces off. He could
scarcely support himself, and was endeavouring to aim at me with a
pistol which he held in his left hand. But horsemen were every instant
passing to and fro before him, and he dropped his hand, patiently
awaiting the favorable moment to fire.
I was expecting the end of this horrible discussion with some
impatience, when the arrival of another horseman changed the
determination of the Arabs. This was Adda, a spy of Abd-el-Kader,
who had often visited us at Arzew, where he feigned an intention of
establishing himself, and allayed any suspicion we might entertain
of him by assuring us that his frequent visits were for the purpose
of selecting some favourable spot for the settlement of his tribe.
Delighted at the goodwill he manifested towards us, we had frequently
invited him to dinner. But the traitor had far different designs. He
made use of his visits to mark the exact spot to which our cattle were
driven: he had determined to seize them, and it was with that object
that he had hidden himself in the ravine with the troop which had
taken me prisoner.
When Adda saw them furiously disputing who should kill me, he
exclaimed that I was an officer, and that Abd-el-Kader would give them
much more for my head if it was left upon my shoulders, and would
willingly replace the three horses they had lost if I were taken to
him alive.
But the Arabs still continued to brandish their yataghans over my
head, with the most horrible imprecations against the dog of a
Christian.
Adda used still stronger arguments; and when the dying Arab had
been removed, it was decided that I should be presented alive to
Abd-el-Kader, who was to choose the manner of my death, after paying
my ransom and replacing the horses which our men had shot.
I was then released from the tree, and a rope was passed through the
cord which bound my arms. An Arab took hold of either end, and we
started for Old Arzew.
After a march of two hours we reached Old Arzew. I was worn out
with fatigue and suffering—naked, wounded, covered with dust and
sweat, and dying of thirst: and I expected that my body would be
left without burial at Arzew, while my head would serve to adorn
Abd-el-Kader’s tent.
As I was with the advanced guard of the Arabs, I was one of the first
to arrive at Old Arzew. I threw myself upon the ground beside a
fountain, and counted the troop which had attacked us as it defiled
past me: there were about two hundred men. We halted for a quarter
of an hour to rest the horses and to let the men eat a little. I was
unable to swallow anything but a few figs and a little water, and had
just dropped asleep when the chief gave the signal for departure, and
I started under a guard of twenty-seven horsemen.
Just as we were setting off, an Arab brought me a straw hat with
poor Jonquié’s head in it, and bade me carry it. I refused, and was
instantly assailed on all sides by blows and abuse, and cries of
“Carry the head, dog of a Christian.”
“I will die first,” said I, throwing myself on the ground; and the
Arabs were about to dispatch me with the butt ends of their rifles,
when Adda, who was very anxious to deliver me alive to Abd-el-Kader,
interposed. The head was hung to the saddle-bow of one of the Arabs,
and after venting their ill-humour on me by more blows, we started.
During our journey across the plain of Macta, we stopped at three
successive wells, where several Arabs of the neighbouring tribes met
us and drew water for our men and horses. I went towards the well to
drink, but the Arab who held the bucket spat in my face, saying, “This
water is not for a dog of a Christian like thee.”
I made no answer, and went on to the next well, but there too the Arab
who was drawing water spat in my face, and said, “This water is not
for a dog of a Christian like thee.”
Again I bore it with patience, but the Arab at the third well, not
content with spitting in my face and addressing the same compliment to
me as his predecessors had done, dashed a bucket full of water in my
face. I was bathed in perspiration, and no doubt such treatment would
have brought on an inflammation in my chest if I had had time to be
ill. As it was, I shivered and threw myself on the ground, (always my
last resource,) crying “You may kill me if you please; I will not move
another step, I am dying of thirst.” This was no more than the truth,
for my tongue and my mouth were like a piece of dry cork, and I was
fainting from thirst. At length Adda went himself, drew some water and
brought it to me.
We resumed our journey through a country in which the barley harvest
was going on, and every time we passed any Arabs at work in the
fields or a party of horsemen, my guards called out “Come and see the
Christian dog;” and they all came and spat in my face, and fired off
their muskets close to my head, so that the balls whizzed about my
ears. I must confess that these demonstrations of joy alarmed me a
good deal until I got used to them.
During the course of our day’s journey we had to ford several rivers;
but though I was often up to my middle in the water, these barbarians
would not allow me to take a little in the palm of my hand, till at
last, in spite of their threats and blows, I flung myself down in the
bed of the river and drank deep draughts: this refreshed me but for
a short time, and at every fresh river I had to resort to the same
expedient.
At length I fell, exhausted with fatigue. It was three o’clock, and
I had walked since five in the morning, and my feet were torn and
bleeding. The Arabs mounted me on one of their horses, but in a
quarter of an hour the owner of it dragged me off its back by my leg.
I walked for two hours more, and then rode again. At length we arrived
about nightfall at the camp of the Borgiá tribe.
Here I was exposed to the blows, insults, and spittings of men, women,
and children. A tent was pitched for my guards into which I was but
half admitted, and I lay on the earth beyond the carpet.
Our party had chickens boiled with kuskussu for supper, which they
ate voraciously; I should have been very glad of a bit, but they
considered me unworthy of such a dainty, and flung me a handful of
kuskussu, which I could not swallow, as it was dry and bad, and my
throat was so sore.
After supper the Arabs returned my shirt to me and sent a negro to put
irons on my feet. My legs were so swollen that the pain of forcing
the irons to shut brought tears into my eyes: this treatment was as
useless as it was cruel, for I was not able to stand, much less to run
away. I stretched myself on the bare ground and slept soundly till
the next morning, when the brutal negro woke me by giving a violent
shake to the irons on my feet, which hurt me dreadfully.
I endeavoured to rise but instantly fell again; my feet were lacerated
and swollen, and all my wounds ached with cold and fatigue. The Arabs
seeing that if they compelled me to walk I should soon expire by the
road side, at length gave me a horse to ride, and we continued our
journey towards Abd-el-Kader’s camp, which was not above ten leagues
off. But for fear I should be too comfortable they hung poor Jonquié’s
head at my saddle-bow: it was already in a state of putrefaction, and
the Arabs seeing the horror and loathing with which it inspired me,
amused themselves by piercing it with their swords and yataghans to
increase the smell by exposing the brains to the action of the sun and
air.
We were travelling the road from Mascara to Mostaganem, and my heart
beat for joy at the sight of the tracks of the French cannon. I hoped
that we might fall in with some French outpost, and for a moment I
forgot all my misery, and even the putrid and bloody head before me,
and fancied myself on board the brig and in the arms of my friends
and relations, or firing a broadside at the Arabs. I was rather
roughly waked out of my reverie by a shower of blows which the Arabs
gave me in order to hasten my horse’s pace. In a few minutes I urged
the animal on, and immediately they beat me violently, crying, “A
Christian dog like thee may not dare to strike the horse of an Arab.”
We continued our journey in this manner for six hours, at the end of
which the Arabs began to shout for joy, and Adda told me that we had
reached Abd-el-Kader’s camp, which is close to the town of Kaala. It
was not without emotion that I passed the first tents of the man who
was to decide my fate.