Arab is a wanderer, half patriarch, half brigand, pasturing his flocks
on the verge of the cultivated lands of more civilized peoples, and
snatching such prey as hazard brought within his grasp; in the next he
is a conqueror ruling from the Indian Ocean to the Atlantic, and
threatening to extinguish Christendom. On the vanquished he imposed his
religion and his social code; he had no art to impose. Having become by
force of conquest and the exigencies of government a dweller in cities,
he showed his incapacity to understand the work of his predecessors in
such eccentricities as re-erecting their fallen buildings with the
columns inverted, using the capital as base, and the base in the
capital’s place. As architects he employed the natives of the countries
he had overrun, in Egypt Copts and Greeks, who reproduced Byzantine
forms and fixed the typical lines on which the development of “Arab art”
was to take place. In this deference to local tendencies is to be found
the origin of the wide divergencies of art in the Mohammedan world,—of
Persian art in the east, and Moorish art in the west. The conquered and
converted peoples continued to build, as far as the main plan was
concerned, in the same way as they had built before their conversion,
adapting their previous methods to present needs, and to the
requirements of their conquerors.
In Barbary the development of art followed closely that of Spain. The
Moorish art of Spain was chiefly Roman or Byzantine in origin; the first
mosque built, that of Cordoba, is said to have been designed by
architects from Byzantium. Columns used in its construction were brought
from the ruins of Merida and other Roman towns, and even from distant
parts of the Mediterranean. From this commencement sprang the later
glories of Moorish art, exhibited in their most splendid developments at
Granada in Spain, and Tlemçen in Algeria.
If in the scheme of its buildings Moorish architecture followed earlier
examples, the Byzantine basilica and the Roman house, in its decorative
features it was more distinctively Mohammedan. Yet if the Semite
nourished his traditional aversion from the graven image, if the Prophet
forbade idolatry and his disciples extended the prohibition to the
portrayal of the human body, and enjoined that only trees, flowers and
inanimate objects should be depicted; it is nevertheless necessary to
seek some deeper cause for the objection of the western Mohammedans to
any artistic representation of animal forms. This objection was by no
means universal in the Mohammedan world. The Persian rejoiced in his
pictures and statues. The explanation may be found perhaps in the zeal
of the iconoclasts which had rent North Africa before the Arab invasion.
Fathers of the Church had thundered against images; humbler Christians,
such as the Copts in Egypt, had striven to dissociate their art from
materialistic suggestions, and to find in geometric designs some
expression of their aspirations for the infinite. But Hellenism, with
its delight in nature, and especially the human form, was still dominant
in Christian art. It disappeared before the onslaught from Arabia. The
Coptic builder saw his opportunity. His abstract ideas fitted exactly
with those of his new master. In his rhythmical representations of
foliage, his polygonal figures and intersecting angles, may perhaps be
found the germ of the characteristic motives of Mohammedan decoration.
[Illustration: ALGIERS: FOUNTAIN, RUE DE L’INTENDANCE]
Its elements may be divided into three groups;—inscriptions in writing,
and interlacements, rectilinear and curvilinear. It will be found that
almost all Moorish decoration falls under one of these three heads. The
inscriptions as a rule are not historic, but ornamental, verses of the
Koran, pious sentences and so forth. The style is at first sober and
monumental, more stately than the cursive hand in ordinary use. As we
should expect, it became in time more elaborate and fantastic,
harmonizing well with the decorative interlacements which commonly
surround the lettering. The inscriptions themselves are often in
geometrical form, so as to give at first sight the impression of a
pattern; for instance, a sentence may be repeated four times around a
central letter.
To the variety of geometrical and curvilinear interlacements there is
obviously no limit. Angles, straight lines and curves are frequently
combined in the style we denominate arabesque, a style which has
prevailed far beyond the limits of Arab conquest, and is particularly a
feature of Venetian art. Late examples show great development,
especially on floral lines. Leaves of particular trees, notably the
palm, are represented. But a mathematical suggestion does not cease to
prevail. The passion for interlacement and for excessive decoration of
surface gives rise to curious vagaries,—such are the intricate
intersection of arches, the breaking up of the arch itself into
subsidiary arches, and the “stalactites” which commonly adorn the roof
of the _mihrab_, the Holy of Holies. It is not without interest when
visiting a mosque to note these developments and to strive to trace them
to their original elements.
Our insight into the Arab mind is so limited, we have ourselves so
slight an inclination to the symbolic and the mystic, so strong a
preference for directness in art and speech, for “straight-flung words
and few,” that we may well hesitate to dogmatize in such a matter as
Moorish decoration. In the light of our own tame submission to a
superabundance of ecclesiastical and domestic ornament which is without
significance we should regard it as merely a habit of clothing blank
spaces with conventional markings. Yet it may be that the spiritual
dreamer, ever intent on the conception of an abstract deity, rejecting
with scorn the idea of a God made flesh and dwelling among men, finds in
the geometrical expressions of unending line and angle, in the
interminable intricacies of the interlacing curve, some harmony with his
own longings, and some suggestion of the Infinite.
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_V—SWORD AND PLOUGH_
Great events and trivial causes—The Dey’s fan—France roused—England as
dog-in-the-manger—The French expedition and conquest—Clauzel—
Abd-el-Kader—Bugeaud.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
“They shall beat their swords into ploughshares.”
ISAIAH.
It is naturally impossible for a traveller to traverse Algeria without
being constantly conscious of the effects of the French conquest. His
own presence there otherwise than as a Christian slave is one of them,
and not the least important one for him. But in the course of his
journeyings he will be so frequently informed of important incidents in
the series of campaigns, of the connection of localities he is visiting
with some phase of victory or defeat, that a short résumé of the lengthy
transactions may not be out of place. With many side-issues the story
resolves itself in the end, as such war-histories often do, into a
struggle for the mastery between two great men. The Frenchman won the
rubber.
Stern as was the lesson which Lord Exmouth inflicted, it was soon
forgotten, and the ingrained habit of centuries reasserted itself. A
subsequent Dey set himself to re-create a fleet, and in 1820 he had
forty-four vessels with 1560 sailors. Fresh trouble arose with the
British consul, and the weakness of the admiral who was sent to support
him only made matters worse. The Dey refused to see Mr. McDonell, who
had been forced to leave, and treated Mr. St. John, who replaced him,
with ignominy. “All the disgraceful ceremonies in the intercourse
between the representative of Great Britain and the Turkish authorities
were continued. The consul was obliged, the moment he came in sight of
the Dey’s palace, to walk bareheaded in the hottest sun; in waiting for
an audience he had to sit on a stone bench in the public passage; he
could not wear a sword in the Dey’s presence, nor ride to the palace,
though his own servants, if Mohammedans, might do so.” And the corsair
fleet began once more to harry the coasts of France and Spain.
In the early days of the Turkish domination the corsairs had been
influenced by political preferences. They had especially waged war
against the Spaniards, who had expelled the Moors, and whose sovereign,
Charles V, was the enemy of the Sultan. They respected the vessels of
Francis I, the Sultan’s ally. So may even pirates follow the dictates of
conscience. But as time went on the high character of the Algerian
corsairs suffered some abasement through association with the renegades
of Christendom, and French and Spanish vessels met a like fate,—all was
fish that came to their net. The French, who had formerly felt that the
Spaniards were getting no more than their deserts, and had even afforded
Kheir-ed-Din a temporary refuge in the port of Marseilles during a
storm, were naturally hurt at the ingratitude of these proceedings. They
went so far, in the reign of the Grand Monarque, as to bombard Algiers
on two occasions,—with the customary result. Their fleets sailed away;
Algiers rebuilt itself, and proceeded upon its piratical way. No one has
ever rivalled the Deys in the art of taking a beating, and coming up
again with a smile,—unless it be their ultimate conquerors.
Great changes in the history of the world have often been, or have
seemed to be, the result of accident. Wars have been waged, conquests
effected, empires created, not of settled intention and design, but as
the outcome of the personal quarrels, and the personal ambitions of
individuals, less, in modern times at any rate, of sovereigns than of
subjects. The British Empire has been created rather in spite of than by
the aid of the governing powers of Great Britain. Cecil Rhodes is but
the latest of the long line of Englishmen who imposed imperial
responsibilities on a half-hearted England. Governments seldom dream
imperial dreams; they are more concerned to keep their seats. Sovereigns
like George III may lose an empire. Mere accidental citizens, as Clive
or Rhodes, may create one.
So this fertile North Africa, through history the shuttle-cock of Asia
and Europe, with an illimitable hinterland of “rather light soil,” to
quote the words of a statesman who had little sympathy with African
conquest, became French because an Algerian Dey struck a consul with his
fan. This incident arose—as modern international incidents frequently
arise—out of a financial dispute. Certain Jews of Algiers had a claim
against France for corn supplied during the Napoleonic wars. The Dey
pressed this claim as his own; and being dissatisfied with the delay in
settlement he made a violent scene with the consul, “et s’oublia jusqu’à
le toucher de son chasse-mouches.” Apologies were demanded and refused,
and for three years, from 1827 to 1830, France endeavoured to blockade
the port of Algiers. The Dey Hussein continued obdurate. So little
repentant was he that when the _Provence_ entered the port in 1829,
having on board a French admiral, charged to make a last effort at
negotiation (for the blockade was costing seven millions of francs a
year and effecting nothing), all the batteries opened fire on her. Even
now the French ministry was reluctant to make war, and proposed to the
Sultan of Turkey that Mehemet Ali, Pasha of Egypt, should bring the
Barbary states under his rule. The Sultan refused his authorization, and
an expedition was decided on. France was destined to become an African
power, “un peu malgré elle.”
The naval authorities were strongly opposed to a military expedition; it
would, they declared, be absolutely impracticable to land an army with
its indispensable materiel; and former experience, especially the
failure of Charles V, appeared to support their view. But the French
Cabinet decided to make the attempt. With the exception of England, the
European powers were complaisant. England demanded explanations as to
the object of the preparations. M. de Polignac in a circular note
explained that his master desired only to suppress piracy, slavery and
the tribute paid by Christian nations to the Dey. England was not
satisfied and asked for a formal renunciation of a policy of annexation.
The President of the Council replied to the British ambassador that the
King was not led by any sentiment of ambition, that he was not aware
that he had need to ask the permission of anyone to avenge an insult to
his flag; that he had already made known his intentions, and that his
word ought to be sufficient guarantee. England returned to the charge.
M. de Polignac then produced a second circular note in which he declared
that “if Algiers fell into the power of the French army the King would
examine in conjunction with his allies what new order of things it would
be fitting to establish for the benefit of Christianity.” England
complained that this note contained no formal engagement not to keep
Algiers; the French minister put an end to the discussion by declaring
that the King’s communications required no further development.
It is interesting to recall these diplomatic amenities; _mutatis
mutandis_ they bear strong resemblance to certain international passages
at the time of the English occupation of Egypt. But France does not seem
to have given any undertaking that her operations should be only
temporary.
If his memoirs are to be trusted, Admiral d’Haussez, the French Minister
of Marine, lacked the diplomatic suavity of his colleague. Even a
sailor’s bluffness hardly covers the tone of a declaration he made to
the British ambassador. “The King wishes the expedition to be made, and
it will be made. France laughs at England. She will do in this instance
what she likes, and will put up with neither control nor opposition. We
are no longer in the days when you dictated laws to Europe. Your
influence rested on your wealth, your ships and your habit of
domination. All that is past. I suppose you are not willing to
compromise what remains of your influence by going beyond threats. But
if you wish to do so, I will give you the means. Our fleet is already
assembled at Toulon, and will be ready to sail in the last days of May.
It will call at the Balearic Isles, and it will land the troops to the
west of Algiers. If the fancy takes you, you may meet it.”
France had her way without interference; the admiral’s prophecy
(recorded after the event) was fulfilled to the letter. An army of
35,000 men under General Bourmont was transported in 300 vessels, and
disembarked with no great difficulty at Sidi Ferruch, about fifteen
miles to the west of Algiers, on June 14th, 1830. The landing was
unopposed, Hussein having expected it to take place to the east of the
town and collected his army there. A few days later the Dey’s son-in-law
and general, Ibrahim, came into conflict with the French troops and was
defeated. A second attack had the same result. The French army marched
on Algiers, laid siege to Fort l’Empereur, so called because it stood on
the heights above the town where Charles V had pitched his tent. The
French soldiers knew only one Emperor, and promptly called it Fort
Napoleon. The Turkish garrison blew up the fort and fled, and Algiers
lay at the mercy of the invaders.
It appears that Hussein was ready to resist to the death, and sooner
than submit to blow up the city. But disaffection appeared among his
troops, who sent an emissary to Bourmont, offering the Dey’s head as a
token of conciliation. The Dey then decided to treat; he was willing to
make every reparation for the insult offered to the consul, to abandon
his pecuniary claims and to pay the cost of the war. But Bourmont would
have nothing but the surrender of the city and its forts. The Dey was to
be at liberty to retire to some place to be fixed on, with his family
and his riches. As regards the inhabitants,—“l’exercice de la religion
mussulmane restera libre. La liberté des habitants de toutes les
classes, leur religion, leurs propriétés, leur commerce, leur industrie
ne recevront aucune atteinte, leurs femmes seront respectées: le général
en chef en prend l’engagement sur l’honneur.” These terms were accepted;
the French army entered Algiers on July 5th; and it appears that the
conditions were fairly well observed.
An eye-witness has described the attitude of the population. “Algiers,”
he says, “on the entry of the French, did not present the sad and
desolate aspect of a conquered town. The shops were closed, but the
traders, seated quietly before their doors, seemed to await the moment
for opening them. You met here and there groups of Turks and Moors who
appeared more indifferent than alarmed. A few veiled Mohammedan women
could be seen peering through the narrow windows of their dwellings;
Jewish women with greater boldness filled the terraces of their houses
without exhibiting any surprise at the novel spectacle. Our soldiers
threw everywhere eager and curious glances, and all they saw filled them
with astonishment at a city where no one seemed astonished at their
presence. The resignation to the will of God which is so profoundly
graven on the spirit of the Mussulman, the sentiment of France’s power,
and her well-known generosity, all made for confidence; and it was soon
established.”[3] With such ease and light-heartedness did France enter,
on her career of African conquest. Her troubles were to come.
Footnote 3:
Pelissier de Reynaud, “Annales Algériennes.”
The policy to be pursued was the first of them. The expedition had
achieved its punitive object, Algeria appeared to be poor and sterile,
and there was much to be said for abandoning it altogether. At the other
extreme was the proposal to attempt a complete and definite conquest. A
middle course was adopted,—to occupy only certain important points on
the coast and in the interior. It is easy to be wise after the event;
our own colonial experience is full of evidence of the futility of
half-measures; and we need not claim much perspicacity for observing
that France missed the golden opportunity for occupying the country when
the central Government, such as it was, had been destroyed. But, for all
the brave words of the truculent admiral, she doubtless felt some
diffidence in view of her declaration to Europe, and the continued
hostility of Great Britain was not without its effect. France’s own
political position, too, was in a very disordered condition. On the 18th
of August a revolution took place, Louis Philippe was proclaimed King
and Bourmont was recalled.
For the next ten years, from 1830 to 1840, what was known as the policy
of Restricted Occupation was pursued. Certain ports on the coast were
occupied—Oran, Bougie, Bône, etc.—and attempts were made to bring the
plain of the Metidja under French control by placing garrisons in such
towns as Medea and Blidah. The army of occupation was much reduced, and
Clauzel, the general in command, endeavoured to raise native auxiliary
troops, with small success. He was, at any rate, a master of bombast.
Having occupied Blidah and ascended one of the passes of the Atlas, he
addressed his troops: “Soldats! les feux de nos bivouacs qui, des cimes
de l’Atlas, semblent dans ce moment se confondre avec la lumière des
étoiles, annoncent à l’Afrique la victoire que vous venez de remporter,”
etc. This pronouncement was followed by the withdrawal of the garrison
and a hasty retreat to Algiers. Early in 1831 Clauzel was recalled. His
successors, Berthezène, the duc de Rovigo and Voirol, essaying a great
undertaking with inadequate means, had no better fortune.
Under Voirol General Desmichels was sent to Oran with the object of
establishing order in the west. The tribes were in arms, and at their
head-quarters at Mascara had chosen as their general a celebrated
marabout, or holy man, named Mahi-ed-Dine, who, having attacked Oran
several times without success, resigned the command to his son,
Abd-el-Kader, then only twenty-four years of age, but destined to become
one of the greatest leaders of modern times. He was, says Camille
Rousset, “of middle height, but well made, vigorous and untiring. He was
the best among the best horsemen in the world. Physical qualities are
highly valued by the Arabs; Abd-el-Kader had more—the qualities which
make men conquerors: intelligence, sagacity, strength of will, genius to
command. In eloquence he was the equal of the greatest orators, and
could bend crowds to his will. He spoke in serious and measured tones,
and was sparing of gesture, but his pale face was full of animation, and
under their long dark lashes his blue eyes darted fire.” It may be
remarked that the blue eyes point to a Berber, rather than an Arab
origin. Such was the man who for years to come was to bid defiance to
the French.
Their first dealings with him were unfortunate. Desmichels arrived at
Oran in the spring of 1833. Finding that he could make no headway
against Abd-el-Kader, who from his capital of Mascara was preaching a
holy war for the extermination of the infidels, he concluded with him a
treaty which enormously increased the Arab’s authority. Abd-el-Kader was
described in it as Emir; all practical power was placed in his hands;
and he was permitted to purchase arms and ammunition in French towns. No
mention was made of French sovereignty. The treaty, though contrary to
the instructions of the French Government, was accepted by it in the
belief that it assured peace. Difficulties soon arose. Desmichels was
recalled; his successor, Trezel, at the head of a column of 1700 men,
was attacked by Abd-el-Kader in the marshes of La Macta, and defeated
with the loss of a third of his force.
The prestige of this victory brought many waverers to the Arab leader’s
flag. But France’s disaster brought home to her the seriousness of the
position, and in the end the defeat did more towards the ultimate
conquest than a victory would have done.
Clauzel, who had left Africa almost in disgrace in 1831, was sent back
in full command in 1835. He alone of the French generals had exhibited
any military qualities. His grandiose projects have been justified by
events. His main plan consisted in occupying Mascara and Tlemçen in the
west, Medea and Miliana in the centre, and Constantine in the east. Of
Tlemçen and Constantine he said, “Si vous n’occupez pas ces deux
Gibraltar de la Régence d’Alger, vous n’en serez jamais les maîtres.”
His failure was due to his attempt to effect these objects with the
inadequate means with which he was supplied. He commenced by advancing
against Abd-el-Kader, who retired before him. Having occupied Mascara
and Tlemçen, he returned to Algiers, whereupon Tlemçen was promptly
besieged by the Arabs. At this point the great Frenchman, destined to
overthrow the Arab power and to conquer Algeria, appeared on the scene.
General Bugeaud was sent to command in the west. He was personally
opposed to conquest, and regarded French intervention in Algeria not
only as having been badly conducted, but as initially a mistake. These
views did not prevent him from putting his hand to the plough. He began
by revolutionizing the methods of warfare; in spite of the opposition of
his officers, he dispensed with heavy trains of baggage and artillery,
lightened the loads of the soldiers, and carried their provisions on
mules. Attacking Abd-el-Kader at La Sikkah he inflicted on him a signal
defeat, his native auxiliaries pursuing the flying enemy with fury and
slaughtering them in great numbers. Bugeaud then returned to France.