Algiers, attacked Constantine, but was ignominiously repulsed, and was
recalled. The city fell the following year to General Valée. In 1837
Bugeaud was sent back to Oran, with instructions to make terms with
Abd-el-Kader on the basis of surrendering to him the province of Oran in
consideration of his recognizing the sovereignty of France and paying
tribute. The two leaders met and negotiated the treaty of the Tafna. It
was all in the Arab’s favour; the tribute fixed was nominal, the
sovereignty question ignored. In native eyes Abd-el-Kader became a
veritable monarch, his territory was assured to him and he had leisure
to gather his forces for a further struggle. We must suppose either that
Bugeaud’s private preferences carried him away, or that the situation in
the west was too desperate to warrant his insisting on better terms. For
two years peace reigned, but in 1839 Abd-el-Kader proclaimed a holy war.
Arabs and Khabyles invaded the Metidja and burnt the farms of the French
colonists. Hostilities lasted for two years with no decisive result. In
October, 1840, the Governor-General, Valée, was recalled, and Bugeaud
was sent out in supreme command to inaugurate a new policy.
[Illustration: EVENING PRAYER]
The half-hearted efforts of ten years were at an end, _l’occupation
restreinte_ was to give way to _l’occupation totale_. France set herself
at all cost to occupy effectively the whole territory of Algeria up to
the desert. She had missed her chance at first. “Occasion,” says Bacon,
“(as it is in the common verse), turneth a bald Noddle, after she hath
presented her locks in Front and no hold taken.” The unwise temporizing
with Abd-el-Kader had enormously increased the difficulties of the
position. But there was to be no more dalliance.
Bugeaud was one of those born leaders to whom the exigencies of the
occasion are more important than military tradition. To seek the enemy’s
force and to destroy it was for him a leading principle, as it has been
for our great naval commanders. He abolished the garrisons of his
predecessors, and substituted for them mobile columns. He believed, and
proved, that the manœuvres of such columns were far more effective,
even for the protection of colonized districts, than the occupation of
definite points. In the main he relied on infantry, supported by a light
and very mobile artillery. The _a priori_ view that cavalry is necessary
to meet a mounted enemy found in his operations no support, however
useful it may be for surprises and pursuit. Can it be that the famous
telegram to our Colonies at the beginning of the last South African
War,—“infantry preferred,”—was due to a statesman’s study of the memoirs
and correspondence of Marshal Bugeaud?
He even conceived the idea of mounted infantry, mounting his men on
mules or camels as occasion served. He prohibited the use of waggons for
baggage and provisions, and dared, in spite of the indignant protests of
his cavalry officers, to use the troop horses to carry rice and corn.
Sprung himself from the ranks,—he had fought as a corporal of the guard
at Austerlitz,—he understood the soldier’s needs, powers and
limitations; and was in turn trusted and beloved,—_le père Bugeaud_ he
was affectionately called. Such was the man who was to win for France
her African empire.
[Illustration: CARAVAN OF A CAÏD]
It is unnecessary to recount the details of the long duel between
Bugeaud and Abd-el-Kader. Step by step the Arab leader was driven from
the fertile regions to the high plateaux, and with every reverse his
authority over the tribesmen waned, even if his own resource and
resolution never failed. A severe blow was dealt in the spring of 1843.
Abd-el-Kader had established a vast caravan, known as the _smalah_,
comprising the families of his forces, their flocks and herds, and a
crowd of non-combatants who abandoned their homes and followed his
fortunes rather than submit to the foreigner. It was, as Bugeaud said,
“la capitale ambulante de l’empire arabe.” It was reputed to contain
40,000 persons, defended by 5000 combatants. The young Duc d’Aumale, son
of Louis Philippe, was charged with its capture. Having located its
position at Taguine, he attacked it with a force of 600 horse, without
waiting for his infantry, consisting of 1300 men. The suddenness of his
onslaught broke down all resistance; the defenders fled, leaving much
booty and many thousand prisoners in the hands of the French. For some
months more Abd-el-Kader continued to make a futile resistance, but
finally fled to Morocco. In July Bugeaud received the fitting
acknowledgment of his success, and was named Marshal of France.
France now came into conflict with the Empire of Morocco,—the
commencement of a page of history still unfinished. The Sultan, perhaps
against his own inclinations, was compelled by the sympathies of his
people to espouse the cause of the Arab leader. His son led an army of
40,000 men to the frontier. Bugeaud, with a force of 8000, met him on
the banks of the Isly. The night before the battle Bugeaud addressed his
officers, who were assembled at “un punch” to welcome some comrades
arrived from France: “With our little army of 6500 bayonets and 1500
horses I am going to attack the army of the Prince of Morocco, which
amounts, according to my information, to 60,000 horsemen. I would the
number were double, or thrice as great, for the greater would be its
disorder and disaster. I have an army; he has only a mob. And I will
explain to you my order of attack. I give my little force the form of a
wild boar’s head. The right tusk is Lamoricière; the left tusk, Bedeau;
the snout is Pelissier; and I am between the ears. Who can stop our
penetrating power? Ah! my friends, we will cut our way into the Moorish
army as a knife cuts butter.”
This new eve of Austerlitz was followed on the morrow by an overwhelming
victory. By midday the Moors were in flight and their camp of a thousand
tents, with all their artillery, was captured. The bombardment of
Tangier and Mogador by the Prince de Joinville assisted to bring the
Sultan to his senses, and peace was concluded by the Treaty of Tangier.
But the troubles of the French were not over. In 1845 the indomitable
Abd-el-Kader, having recruited 2000 men in the Sahara, appeared in the
west and raised the whole province of Oran; farms were burnt, crops
destroyed and bridges thrown down. Bugeaud, recalled from France, set
himself to make an end. He collected a force of 100,000 men, divided
into eighteen columns. A mighty hunt began. Abd-el-Kader was everywhere
in turn. As ubiquitous as De Wet, he was now in the Tell, now in the
high plateaux, now endeavouring to raise the mountaineers of Khabylia.
But the end was inevitable. The tribesmen whom, having raised, he left
to their chastisement, grew weary of the process. “You are like the
gad-fly,” they said to him, “which arouses the bull. When you have done
your work of irritation you disappear, and it is we who bear the brunt
of the blows.” After a fruitless effort to obtain fresh aid from
Morocco, he was captured on the frontier by Lamoricière and sent to
France. He was subsequently allowed to retire to Syria, where he lived
on a pension paid by the French Government till his death in 1883. He
left a name venerated by his countrymen and respected by his conquerors.
The French have had to face serious insurrections since, but no native
leader has arisen to repeat the exploits or rival the fame of
Abd-el-Kader.
Bugeaud was more than a great soldier; he was a statesman and a
colonizer. He chose as his motto, “Ense et aratro.” He held that, except
as a forerunner to the plough, it was useless to draw the sword. The
military and civil control of a subject population, such as the English
rule in India, and in recent days the _pax Gallica_ of the Sahara, may
be an excellent undertaking for a people of super-abundant energies; for
Bugeaud the conquest of Algeria was only a necessary preliminary to its
organization as a French colony. “La conquête,” he said in his first
proclamation, “serait stérile sans la colonisation. Je serai donc
colonisateur ardent, car j’attache moins de gloire à vaincre dans les
combats qu’à fonder quelque chose d’utile et de durable.”
The French invasion brought in its train a number of civilians. They
were perhaps rather adventurers than of the stuff from which successful
colonists are made. And the task before them was a stern one. The
breaking of the soil was the first difficulty. It was covered with
brushwood and dwarf palms, and its clearance involved much painful toil.
There were no roads; even in the Metidja, close to Algiers, no means of
communication but the mule paths; and no bridges. It is said that the
journey to Blidah, which you may now cover in an hour or two, took four
days. The country was most insecure; troops of bandits continually
descended on the cultivated plains and robbed and murdered the
colonists. Perhaps the greatest trouble of all was the prevalence of
fever, especially in the Metidja. “The cemeteries,” said a general, “are
populated faster than the villages.” Later the spread of cultivation
diminished its virulence, and the use of quinine provided a remedy. It
is said that absinthe was used by French soldiers as a febrifuge,[4] and
that they took back to their homes a habit which has become so
widespread. A treatise might be written on the influence of war on
fashions in drink. The introduction of champagne into England is said to
be due to the English officers who had discovered its virtues in Paris
at the time of Bonaparte’s downfall.
Footnote 4:
See “Notes and Queries,” February 25th and March 4th, 1911.
The Holy War of 1839 had extinguished the feeble flicker of French
colonization. The colonists were removed to Algiers for safety; and the
Arabs pillaged and burnt their farms. The land reverted to barbarism.
Bugeaud set himself to repair this damage, and to place colonization on
a firmer basis. His idea was that the state should prepare the way by
granting land under certain conditions of military service, that it
should make careful selection among applicants for grants, and should
provide funds for preliminary works,—roads, wells and farm-buildings.
This system was partially carried out, and has been justified by
success. In spite of many troubles and setbacks, a constantly increasing
area has been brought under cultivation. In 1854 the cultivation of
cereals occupied about two million acres; in 1861 it had risen to five
millions; in 1885 to seven millions. Since that date the total has not
sensibly increased, but methods have improved and the yield is greater.
It is said that on the whole agriculture in Algeria is more progressive
than in France. And as he traverses Algeria’s interminable cornfields,
the traveller may be disposed to render homage to the great soldier who,
personally averse from conquest, drew the sword to establish peace, and
strove to bring plenty in her train.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_VI—TLEMÇEN THE HOLY_
Western Algeria—Sidi Bel Abbès—The Foreign Legion—A city of learning—Its
inhabitants—The Mosque of Aboul Hassan—Mansoura—Its story—Sidi Bou
Medine—Oran—Spanish immigrants.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
“A city dreaming of her ancient pride
Amid the orchards on her mountain-side;
Do you sleep sound, O saint that shares her fame,
While stranger horsemen through her portals ride?”
Far to the west, beyond Oran, and close to the frontiers of Morocco,
lies a hill city, once the seat of empire and of learning, but now sunk
to the condition of a provincial town. Yet Tlemçen has occupied so high
a position in the Mohammedan world, and the reputation of its existing
monuments is so widespread, that the enterprising traveller will desire
to visit it. The distance from Algiers is great, some 800 miles there
and back, and as there is little of interest on the road, a journey by
motor-car is not inviting. It is perhaps better to make use of the
excellent train service between Algiers and Oran. If you leave Algiers
at nine p.m., you may change about six a.m. at a junction a little short
of Oran and reach Tlemçen about eleven. Or you may go on to Oran and
hire a motor-car for the remaining 110 miles, which it will cover faster
than the train does. In any case it is a tiresome journey. The road and
the rail alike rise through a series of great plains divided by rocky
steps, and chiefly devoted to corn-growing. The country is very bare and
very uninteresting. There are few trees. It is said to have been once
well wooded, but, although the Arab will take care of a tree near his
house or his mosque, he has no regard for trees in general. So countless
generations of browsing goats have made an end of the woods. One cannot
but think that more attention to re-afforesting would meet with its
reward.
Here, as elsewhere in Algeria, both in the plain and on the mountain
side, the traveller will notice a number of square whitewashed
buildings, surmounted by a cupola. They are known by the name of
_koubba_, and are generally the tomb of a marabout or saint, and serve
as objects of pilgrimage and much local veneration.
At Sidi Bel Abbès, a town of 25,000 inhabitants, about half of whom are
Spaniards, are the head-quarters of the famous Foreign Legion. The very
name of this corps stirs memories of forlorn hopes and dare-devil
enterprises. The inimitable Ouida, whose disregard of the grammatical
niceties of her own and other tongues was a generation ago the delight
of undergraduates; who could say of her high-born hero that he ignored
the proud motto of his haughty race, _Pro patria et rege_, and acted on
the principle, _Pro ego_; Ouida has pictured for us after her own
fashion, in “Under Two Flags,” the life of a foreign adventurer in the
French service during the earlier days of the occupation. The picture,
if imaginative in details, is full of life, and it is no doubt true that
many broken men of gentle birth and upbringing found in the campaigns on
the verge of the Sahara an outlet for energies for which civilization
had no use. To-day the Legion is composed largely of Alsatians, Germans
and Poles, and is celebrated for its band. But it is still to the fore
when stern work is on foot. The situation of Sidi Bel Abbès renders it
very convenient in the event of trouble with Morocco, which is
constantly recurring. The town and its environs are an agreeable
exception to the surrounding country in being pleasantly wooded. The
olive trees are most carefully pruned, all the centre branches being cut
out, and the outer ones trained to form a cup. This system admits light
and air to the fruit, and facilitates the gathering of the crop.
Within a few miles of Tlemçen the scenery becomes more bold. The train
climbs on to and encircles a rugged mountain range, traverses a great
ravine, down which roars a graceful cascade, and emerges from a short
tunnel into the noise and hubbub of Tlemçen station. The high road takes
another course. It skirts the base of the rocky hills, and boldly
ascends direct to the town, offering pleasant views of its walls and
minarets. This is the habit of roads and railroads in many lands; the
road approaches boldly to a frontal attack; the railroad creeps in
stealthily or remains diffidently outside. So does the traveller by rail
too often miss the beauty of the incoming.
The Arab horsemen who in the seventh century of our era rode through
North Africa and carried the crescent into Europe were the élite of the
race. Not only did they and their sons and those to whom they taught
their faith and language and made like unto themselves conquer kingdoms
and found great cities, promote commerce and achieve enormous material
prosperity, but under their rule were produced works of art worthy to be
ranked with the best. It is perhaps lucky that progress in these
respects was accompanied, as it is generally accompanied, by a decline
in martial prowess, or Western Europe might to-day be tied fast in the
chains of Koran, and the women of London and Paris be veiled as was
Mahomet’s wife. Among the greatest of Mohammedan cities from the
eleventh century to the fifteenth Tlemçen stood high. It was peopled
rather by Berbers than by Arabs of pure blood; but, at any rate, they
spoke the Arab tongue, held the Arab faith and represented Arab culture
at its highest excellence. In spite of the continual stress of war, it
was enriched with noble buildings; it became a kind of university of
Arab learning for North Africa; and it acquired the reputation and
sanctity of a holy city from the selection of a neighbouring village as
his last resting-place by a great Mohammedan saint.
[Illustration: TLEMÇEN: THE MINARET OF AGADIR]
At the period of its greatness Tlemçen was a large and populous city,
containing 100,000 to 150,000 inhabitants. The enceinte constructed by
the French encloses a much smaller area than the old walls, of which at
least two series can be traced. The present town has about 30,000
inhabitants, for the most part Arab or Jew. It does a considerable
trade, especially in olive oil; but it has lost its position as the
terminus of the caravan routes from the south, since the construction of
the Saharan railways; it is cheaper to unload the caravans at the
southern stations, and forward the goods to Oran by rail. Apart from the
mosques the streets present little of interest. It is said that the
French found the town almost in ruins; to-day it is a shabby fifth-rate
French town. The inevitable boulevard has been constructed, and even
where the old houses remain they are hidden behind a hideous modern
front. The old palace of the bey has unhappily been turned into a
barrack. The commercial value of antiquities as an attraction to
tourists was not realized in time; it is hardly understood now. Tlemçen
occupies an important strategic position, close to the Moroccan
frontier, and is garrisoned by French troops. At the Hôtel de France, a
somewhat ramshackle but not uncomfortable hostelry, with very obliging
hosts, breakfast many officers of the garrison. The variety of uniform
is great; not less great the variety of human types:—from the fair, and
apparently frail, young exquisite, whose physique suggests rather the
counting-house than the Sahara, to the grizzled veteran of many
campaigns.
Yet the native inhabitants lend colour and interest to the mean streets.
The Arabs of the better class wear a dark blue overcoat and hood, which
shows off their proportions to great advantage. The women are very
closely veiled, only exhibiting one eye. The children, especially the
little girls not yet come to the age of veiling, are cheerful and
pretty, their rosy cheeks bearing witness to the cold and bracing
qualities of winter at this elevation. The Jewesses affect bright
colours; and red is the colour of their mourning. An occasional stranger
of fierce aspect and unusual dress attracts your attention, and your
guide murmurs “Marocain.”
Some handicrafts survive in Tlemçen. The rubbishy trinkets dear to the
Arab woman and the Christian tourist are laboriously turned out by Jews
in the street of the goldsmiths. It is something to know that they are
not made in Austria. Here and there you will catch a glimpse of an old
Moor bending over a carpet loom. A good deal of leatherwork is done, and
there is a brisk business in harness and saddlery. Tlemçen is no longer
the terminus of the railway which runs to the frontier, but many
frontiersmen come here to trade.
It is in vain to look in Tlemçen, as in other towns of Algeria, for the
pure-bred Arab. Those who pass by the name are the result of a continual
mixture with the indigenous races; they are Berberized Arabs or Arabized
Berbers. But in many ways they compare favourably with their compatriots
elsewhere. Tlemçen has preserved some of its traditions as a city of
learning. Even to-day it contains a large number of educated Mussulmans
and a few savants. You may see here, as often you may see in Cairo and
the cities of the East, a tradesman seated in his little shop poring
over an Arab text. In Algeria generally the standard of education among
the natives is very low; only a small fraction of one per cent can read
and write. The religion of the Tlemçen Arabs is naturally of a somewhat
higher type than that of those who, knowing nothing of the law and the
prophets, are content with the observance of fast days and a cult of
saints mixed with all sorts of survivals of fetishism. The Arabs of
Tlemçen are said to eschew fanaticism, as becomes men of learning, to
regard those who are not of their faith less with hate than with pity,
as having missed the true way of salvation; an attitude not uncommon in
other lands. But their religion is incrusted with intense superstition.
They live in constant terror of the influence of evil spirits, the
Djinns, to which are attributed almost all human ills. A madman
especially is said to be possessed of evil spirits, and he cannot be
cured till they are cast out of him. This fear of evil spirits
influences every action of their daily lives; it is the chief stimulus
to devotion, for the Djinns are kept not away save by prayer and
fasting.
To-day the French are masters, but the Arab in his centuries of
decadence has grown used to masters. They come, and pass, and he
remains. It is the will of God. The French are lenient and just masters;
they provide many material advantages,—security of property, means of
communication, avenues of trade. God is good. But the Arab is always
waiting for something to turn up; he will be sustained in almost
fruitless labour on his barren plot in the hope of finding a treasure;
he will waste his scant earnings in buying favourable horoscopes from
his sorcerer; and if no treasure is unearthed, and no fortune arrives,
he will put it all down to some flaw in the incantations. If all fails
he has at any rate said his prayers five times a day and is sure of
Paradise.
Yet in his heart he is ever looking for the advent of a Messiah, of a
_deus ex machinâ_ who shall overthrow the infidel, and restore the Arab
to his own again. Let France be involved in difficulties elsewhere and
the events of 1870 may repeat themselves. The preaching of a holy war,
the announcement that God’s good time has come—such are the conditions
to raise a wave of religious fanaticism strong enough to sweep away all
considerations of prudence and self-interest. As long as his religion
remains a compelling force, this is his danger and Europe’s. In its
present state Arab civilization, greatly fallen from its high condition
of culture and learning in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, may be
compared with that of Europe in the centuries following the destruction
of the Roman Empire. The Arab is now in the Dark Ages. The forms of his
faith remain all-powerful, but the spirit is dead. A thousand years
separate him from the Europe of to-day. Perhaps the best hope lies for
him in a revival of his religion on the spiritual side; from which may
spring in turn a germ of those ideals of citizenship, toleration and
benevolence which are the basis of our civilization; ideals flowing from
the teachings of Christianity, but not confined in their influence to
the orthodox of any section of Christendom.
A very cursory view of Tlemçen suggests that those enthusiastic writers
who have described it as the equal, or almost the equal, of Granada are
somewhat extravagant in their praise. It occupies indeed a fine
situation, and it looks down from its height of 2500 feet over a rolling
country of hill and vale to the sea thirty miles away. But it has none
of Granada’s grandeur and it lacks the noble background of the Sierra
Nevada. It has no great building like the Alhambra, although its mosques
contain magnificent work, which is unsurpassed and perhaps unequalled
elsewhere. Excessive praise which raises expectations destined to be
disappointed is to be deplored. Tlemçen has enough of beauty and
interest to stand on its own merits. In one respect it has an advantage
over the Moorish cities of Spain. It is indeed held by an alien race,
but its mosques are still for the most part put to the purpose for which
they were built, and the worshippers are the present representatives of
those who built them.