Arrival at Abd-el-Kader’s camp—His reception—Description
of Abd-el-Kader—His tent—Unexpected meeting with M.
Meurice—Abd-el-Kader’s officers.
Abd-el-Kader’s camp stood in a grove of fig trees, on the road from
Mascara to Mostaganem, and the tracks of the wheels of the French
artillery were still visible in the very midst of it. On arriving at
the first tent my guards forced me to dismount, and in a moment I was
surrounded by a host of Arabs of every age and both sexes, shouting
and screaming—“Son of dog,” “Dog of a Christian,” “Cut off his head,”
&c., with the usual accompaniment of blows and spitting.
Presently the chaous came to my rescue, and by dint of vigorous blows
they at last succeeded in delivering me from the hands of these
savages, and conducted me to Abd-el-Kader’s tent. My first reception
in the camp had not been of a kind fitted to dispel the fears with
which I went into his presence. But as soon as Abd-el-Kader saw the
pallor of my face he smiled and motioned me to sit, saying, “As long
as thou art with me fear neither insult nor ill usage.”
Emboldened by this gracious reception I asked him for something to
drink, as, thanks to my guards, I had not drank since the day before.
Abd-el-Kader immediately ordered me to be conducted to the tent which
served as a store-house, and there I received a melon, some grapes,
white bread, and water. The melon was so good, the water so cool,
and Abd-el-Kader’s manner had been so humane, that my hopes and my
appetite revived. After devouring the melon and drinking a whole jar
of water, I was again led into the Sultan’s presence. His tent is the
most magnificent in the camp: it is thirty feet long and eleven feet
high; the inside is lined with hangings of various colours, covered
with arabesques and crescents in red, blue, green, and yellow. A
woollen curtain divides it into two unequal parts, in the furthermost
and smaller of which is a mattress on which the Sultan sleeps. At the
further end is a small entrance for the service of the tent and the
slaves especially attached to the person of the Sultan: these are Ben
Abu and Ben Faka, of whom I shall have to say more hereafter. During
the day the tent remains open and accessible to all.
On the ground in one corner lie four silken flags rolled up: these
are borne before Abd-el-Kader on every march by four horsemen; the
first flag, belonging to the cavalry, is red; the second, that of the
infantry, has a horizontal yellow stripe between two blue ones; the
third, two horizontal stripes—one green and the other white; and
the fourth is half red and half yellow. Every Friday these flags are
unfurled in front of the Sultan’s tent. There is also a small mattress
covered with a carpet, on which lie two red silk cushions; at each
end of the mattress is a chest, and behind it two other chests; the
whole is then covered with a carpet and forms Abd-el-Kader’s sofa: the
chests contain his clothes and money. A carpet is spread on the ground
for strangers. These things, together with a high footstool, covered
with red silk, which serves the Sultan as a horseblock, constitutes
all the furniture of the Sultan’s tent. The tent is always guarded by
thirty negroes, who are never relieved and have no other bed than the
earth. A good many chaous are always in attendance, ready to obey the
commands of their ruler.
I will now endeavour to describe a man of whom at present very little
is known. From all that I had heard, I expected to find a bloodthirsty
barbarian, always ready to cut off heads: my expectations were false
indeed.
Abd-el-Kader is twenty-eight years of age and very small, his face is
long and deadly pale, his large black eyes are soft and languishing,
his mouth small and delicate, and his nose rather aquiline; his beard
is thin but jet black, and he wears a small mustachio, which gives
a martial character to his soft and delicate face, and becomes him
vastly. His hands are small and exquisitely formed, and his feet
equally beautiful; the care he takes of them is quite coquetish: he
is constantly washing them, and paring and filing his nails with a
small knife with a beautifully-carved mother-of-pearl handle, which he
holds all the while as he sits crouching on his cushions with his toes
clasped between his fingers.
His dress is distinguished by the most studied simplicity; there is
not a vestige of gold or embroidery on any part of it. He wears a
shirt of very fine linen, the seams of which are covered with a silk
braid terminating in a small silk tassel. Over the shirt is a haick,
and over the haick two white bernouses; the uppermost garment is a
black bernouse. A few silk tassels are the only ornaments about his
dress; he wears no arms in his girdle, his head is shaved, and covered
by three or four scull-caps one within the other, over which he draws
the hood of his bernouse.
Abd-el-Kader’s father, who died about two years ago, was a marabout
called Mahadin, who by means of his fortune, his intelligence, and his
character for sanctity, had acquired very great fame and influence
among the Arabs. Twice in his life he had made the pilgrimage to
Mecca, and prostrated himself before the tomb of the Prophet. In his
second journey he was accompanied by his son, who was but eight years
old. Young as he was, Abd-el-Kader acquired a great deal of useful
experience, and learned Italian: he could already read and write
Arabic. After returning from their pious journey, Mahadin instructed
his son in the difficult study of the Koran, and at the same time
taught him the conduct of affairs.
As soon as we had concluded a peace with the Arabs after the taking
of Algiers, Abd-el-Kader employed himself in exciting the tribes to
revolt, in feeding and exasperating their animosity towards us, in
stirring up their religious fanaticism, and above all in endeavouring
to obtain the sovereign power over them. This, the talent, the energy,
the bravery, and the cunning of the young marabout soon procured for
him; he quickly became their chief, and is now their Sultan.
The second time that I went to the Sultan’s tent he was seated on
some cushions with his Secretaries and some marabouts crouching
in a semicircle on either side of him: his smiling and graceful
countenance contrasted charmingly with the stupid savage faces around
him. The Chief Secretary first attracted my attention by his Tartuffe
expression, and the rogue has always persuaded Abd-el-Kader to ask a
large sum for my ransom.
The Sultan, with a smile of the greatest kindness, bade me be seated,
and asked me, in Arabic, my name and where I was taken, and on my
answering his questions, told me to fear nothing so long as I was with
him.
He then began to talk about our Generals who have commanded in Africa,
and was very curious to know what had become of them all. On hearing
the name of General Trézel, he flew into a violent rage, and cried,
“He was author of all our misfortunes; it was he who broke the peace
and caused such endless disasters!” I saw that he alluded to the
battle of Tafna, by which General Bugeaud made up for the defeat at
Macta, where we lost five hundred men.
“How many horsemen did you lose at Tafna?” asked I.
“How many?” cried he, furiously. “How many? What is that to thee? The
Arabs were not killed at Tafna as the French were at Macta; you have
never retrieved my great victory over you there. Five hundred of our
men did not return from Tafna.”
Now as the Arabs are the greatest liars in the world, one may fairly
presume that General Bugeaud killed at least twelve hundred of them at
Tafna; but I took very good care to make no further remark; and after
a few moments of silence the Sultan smiled again and said—
“Dost thou desire anything more to-day?”
“I am quite naked, give me some clothes,” said I, and immediately, at
a sign from Abd-el-Kader, I was taken to the store tent and furnished
with a scull-cap, a very thin haick, a shirt, and a pair of slippers:
my trowsers were also returned to me and I put them on, though all in
rags, as no others were to be had.
No sooner was I dressed, than I was accosted by a man, or rather a
phantom, wrapped in a ragged haick, pale and emaciated, with a long
uncombed beard, naked chest and meagre legs, and every appearance of
having endured long and cruel misery; a smile lit up his wan dejected
countenance as he said—
“Don’t you recognise me, Sir?”
“No, Sir, I am not aware that I ever saw you before,” said I.
“Oh, that is because I have suffered so much since we met. I hear that
you are a prisoner, and for your sake I am very sorry for it, for you
do not yet know all the torments that await you; but I cannot conceal
from you the joy your presence gives me. I shall no longer be alone;
I shall have a companion who will share my sufferings, and to whom I
can talk of my country and of my sorrows, and I shall suffer less. But
have you really forgotten me, M. De France? I met you at dinner at M.
Lafont’s.”
“At M. Lafont’s? Good heavens! are you M. Meurice?”
The unfortunate man wrung my hand, and his eyes filled with tears.
I said everything I could think of to encourage and cheer him; but
while I talked hopefully and gladly, my thoughts were occupied with
poor Meurice’s wretched appearance: his face disfigured by pain, his
extreme thinness, the feebleness of his limbs, and the dejection of
his spirits, gave me the idea of a dying man. When I saw him at M.
Lafont’s dinner at Algiers, he was a stout healthy man of about forty,
good-looking, lively, and agreeable; but ill-usage and suffering
had stupified him, destroyed all his energy and powers of mind, and
unhinged his whole frame; he was now weak, credulous, almost imbecile.
He had endured unheard-of tortures which I had escaped, and he had
not, like me, been inured to hardships and privations by a sailor’s
life.
The tent in which we were lodged was as large as that of Abd-el-Kader,
but not nearly so handsome: it served as a general magazine for
victuals and ammunition. Near it was another which was used as the
Sultan’s kitchen, and where, besides, all the barley and kuskussu for
the troops was kept. A third tent contained all sorts of military
stores and clothing, and the provisions of oil and butter.
An old negro, called Ben Faka, was the governor of our tent: he was
formerly a slave of Abd-el-Kader’s father; he has known the Sultan
from his birth, and is extremely attached to him; with us he would be
called the Commissary General.
The Sultan’s Treasurer is Ben Abu his old tutor: he has the care of
Abd-el-Kader’s tent and treasure during the battle, and enjoys his
entire confidence. Ben Abu stammers, owing to a shot which carried
away half his teeth and half his tongue. He and Ben Faka are charged
with the especial care of the Sultan’s person. The Commander of the
troops is called Milud-ben-Arrach: he is always grave and solemn,
and never smiles. His Lieutenant is an Arab called Muftar, who has
especial command over the horse. During the peace Muftar frequently
came to Oran, where he saw the manœuvres of the French cavalry, and he
has been trying ever since to discipline his Arabs in the same manner
but totally without success, as the Arabs can never understand the
possibility of keeping the line while charging at full speed.
I took care to impress the features of these different officers on
my memory, in the hope that I might one day have an opportunity of
repaying them their blows, insults, and odious persecutions with
lashes, and the most cruel among them with bullets.
The Sultan has in his camp about two hundred and fifty horsemen
and five hundred foot soldiers, who are paid and clothed at his
expense; among the Arabs the cavalry are lodged in the centre of
the camp, surrounded and guarded by the infantry. The Califah, or
General-in-Chief, is encamped near Tlemsen with as many more, and
it is with this handful of men that Abd-el-Kader drives all the
neighbouring tribes to battle.