THE FRENCH OCCUPATION OF THE CITY OF TUNIS.
The immediate consequence of the Oued Zerga disaster was a very natural
agitation for the occupation of the metropolis by a French garrison.
Sympathising as I did with the wrongs of the Tunisians, I saw
unmistakable signs that an anti-Christian outbreak might at any moment
occur. The general hostility which the Protectorate had given rise to
all over the country was intensified by General Sabatier’s vigorous but
destructive _reconnaissances_ around Zaghouán, and might be reasonably
expected to reach a culminating point at the fall and possible pollution
of Kairwán. The discomfiture of Ali Bey and the atrocities of Oued Zerga
were now notoriously the subject of ill-disguised public rejoicings
amongst the Arabs, both at Tunis and the neighbouring “holy city” of
Sidi Bou Said, and the averted faces and gloomy looks of the strangers,
who now thronged the streets, told their own tale of hatred and dislike.
M. Roustan alone deprecated the occupation, as it always afforded him a
useful diplomatic lever, to influence the mind of the Bey, who still
seemed anxious, when all else was lost, to preserve at any cost
uncontrolled possession of his capital. At this critical juncture, the
brutal murder of an inoffending Maltese coachman within sight of the
city walls decided the fate of Tunis, and with many fears the Bey wrote
a letter to the Ferik or Governor, informing him “that his allies _had
consented_ to stay for a time in the forts and citadel, and were to be
received and treated like brothers, and that if by chance they found it
necessary to pitch any camps, they were in no way to be hindered.”
Meanwhile the manager of the railway to the frontier issued notices
suspending all traffic beyond Medjez-el-Bab. Still the French
authorities seemed to hesitate; the Belvidere hill overlooking the city
was occupied by a small camp and fortified with a battery of artillery,
and regiments from Manouba on two or three occasions passed close to the
town gates.
French troops now went to the rescue of Ali Bey, but the Arabs showed no
signs of surrender. On the 5th October they were with difficulty beaten
off in an attack on the Tunisian guns, and the French intimated to Ali
Bey that a more vigorous action was necessary. An assault on the
insurgents’ camp was consequently concerted for the following morning
(October 6th). The headquarters of the heir-apparent were at this time
situated half a mile south of Testour, the French occupying a position
to their left, and the Arabs a very favourable one on a hill two miles
distant. The insurgents numbered about 5000 men, and were nearly all
mounted. Ali Bey marched at dawn, followed by the French troops, whose
presence in the rear rendered any further resistance to the Bey’s orders
impossible, for it now transpired that previous to the arrival of the
French reinforcements his soldiers refused to attack their fellow-
countrymen. The struggle lasted four hours. The insurgents, finding
themselves hard pressed, suddenly set fire to their camp, and retreated
from the neighbourhood. The French fired six projectiles on the
fugitives at the end of the engagement, but otherwise took no active
part in the fighting. Only three rebels were taken prisoners, and the
loss on either side was not great. One French soldier was mortally
wounded.
This engagement put an end to the dilemma in which Ali Bey had been
placed for several weeks, and he was now directed to move his camp in
the direction of Zaghouán. The news of the occupation of Tunis once more
aroused the latent hostility of his followers, and he was again
threatened with a mutiny. It was in vain that General Ben Turkiya cleft
the head of an imprudent soldier, who boldly anathematised the treason
of Muhamed es Sadek; the troops would no longer offer the heir-apparent
the usual honours. Most of the irregulars were at once disbanded, and a
month later just enough men remained to furnish the necessary guards and
do police duty in Tunis itself. The collapse of the Tunisian army was
now complete, and it could scarcely have been more ignominious. Its
present existence is entirely confined to the delusive statistics of the
Tunisian almanac, and to the legion of generals and colonels, headed by
General-of-Division Elias Musalli, whose exalted military rank General
Japy obstinately refused to recognise.
On the 9th October workmen were busy in clearing out the heaps of
rubbish which filled the habitable portion of the citadel, and masons
were engaged in opening an unusual doorway in the bastion. It was clear,
therefore, that the occupation would not be long delayed. The time has
now come when I should describe the capital of the Regency, so soon to
lose the charms of an Oriental metropolis.
The city of Tunis covers the eastern slope of a rocky hill which divides
the less turbid lake El Bahira (or “the little sea”) from the more
turbid lake Sebka-es-Sedjoumi (or “the shallows of salt”). A narrow
canal at Goletta, seven miles as the crow flies to the east of Tunis,
separates “the little sea” from the Mediterranean. The configuration of
Tunis is strictly after the manner of most Moslem cities; the Kasbah, or
citadel, occupies the crest of a hill, and a labyrinth of tortuous
streets finds its way thence to the plain at its foot. The whole is, or
rather was, surrounded by a wall, which traversed in its circuit a
distance of seven miles. Twenty years ago the town wall was perfect, but
about half a mile of the bastion has since gradually and almost
imperceptibly disappeared in the Frankish quarter, and now forms the
site of a street called appropriately La Rue des Remparts. The great
eastern gate of Tunis (the Bab-el-Bhar) has therefore no longer any
practical utility, having lost the support of the wall on either side of
it; but outside the European _faubourg_ the mediæval defences of Tunis
are still in a tolerable state of preservation. From one of the
neighbouring hills an excellent bird’s-eye view of Tunis can be
obtained. In the sun its essential feature is a dazzling and unrelieved
whiteness, but its inhabitants perversely enough still call it El
Háthra, or “the green.” Tunis possesses seven chief gates, besides
several posterns. Each of these gates is protected by a fort having its
cannon sometimes _en barbette_, but oftener mounted in embrasures. The
walls of the lower town have no defence but these batteries, but towards
the north and west the ramparts are bisected at intervals by towers. The
principal gates of Tunis are the Bab-el-Bhar, on the lake side; the Bab-
el-Háthra, the Bab Abdu Selam, and the Bab-es-Sadum towards the Bardo
Palace and the Manouba; the Bab Sidi Abdallah, under the shadow of the
citadel; the Bab Sidi Alewa, on the road to Zaghouán and Kairwán; and
the Bab-es-Zira, on that leading to Susa and the coast. The whole of
these gates (with the single exception of the Bab-el-Bhar) are closed at
sunset, and as the keys are commonly supposed to remain till dawn under
the pillow of the Ferik, or Arab Governor, the benighted traveller has
no other resource than to avail himself of the scanty accommodation
afforded by the guard-houses outside the walls.
In addition to the _enceinte_, the somewhat abrupt descent on the north-
western side of Tunis is defended by three large forts built three
centuries ago by the soldiers of Charles V. and his son, and called
respectively Borj Manoubia, Borj Filfla, and Borj-el-Rebta. A lofty
aqueduct constructed at the same time supplied them as well as the
adjacent citadel with water from a distant spring, but it has now fallen
into ruins, and is popularly described as of Roman origin. The Borj-el-
Rebta is a splendid specimen of the science of fortification as
understood by our forefathers. It is surrounded by a deep fosse, and
bristles with useless cast-iron guns which serve to deceive the
Tunisians since the Bey paid one of his loans ten years ago by the sale
of all the brass and bronze cannon in the Regency.
The city of Tunis is commanded by two hills in its immediate
vicinity—viz., Sidi Bil Hassan, properly called Borj Sidi Ali Rais, to
the south, and the Belvedere to the north. The fortress which crowns the
former belongs to a period far anterior to that in which the Borj-el-
Rebta was built, but its position is unrivalled. It dominates all the
roads to Southern Tunis, and its elevation is some hundreds of feet
above that of the Kasbah, or town citadel. Beyond it are two imposing
looking sanctuaries, one of which is every Friday crowded with Tunisian
ladies, who profess to find a cure for sterility in sliding down a rock
on the slope of the hill upon which the _Zaouia_ in question is built.
Belvedere was never fortified till the French appeared before Tunis in
the early days of October 1881. The guns of Sidi Bil Hassan and the
Borj-el-Rebta were sufficient to prevent its heights being occupied by
the troops of the Dey of Algiers or the supporters of some rival to the
beylical throne, the only enemies which Tunis has seen from its walls
since the Spaniards evacuated it in 1574, and the friendly expanse of
the “little sea” efficiently protected it from the artillery of Blake
and the bombardments of half the fleets of Europe, which have repeatedly
razed Goletta to the ground. The Belvedere hill was, however, the very
first point occupied by the French troops, and was made the site of a
strongly-intrenched camp, and fortified by earthworks.
The Arabs occupy the upper portion of the town, the Jews a wholly
distinct quarter below the Moorish city, and the Europeans the plain
between the hill and the lake. Although the streets are tortuous beyond
description, they all converge either on the citadel or the European
Piazza. To lose your way in Tunis is difficult. If you ascend you
ultimately arrive in the square before the Kasbah; if you descend you
must eventually come to the Piazza, flanked on one side by the British
Consulate and on the other by the old Bab-el-Bhar, or city gate. Under
the auspices of the late British representative, Sir Richard Wood, C.B.,
G.C.M.G., an extensive Maltese _faubourg_ (Malta Sghira, or Little
Malta) sprang up on the north side of the European quarter, and during
the _régime_ of M. Roustan, a French colony soon bid fair to fill up the
entire space between the Bab-el-Bhar and the “little sea” with a
miniature Algiers.
At dawn on the 10th October I traversed the narrow streets of the Arab
town, and emerging from the Sidi Abdallah gate, stood on the crest of
the hill overlooking the Bardo and Manouba plain. Barely a dozen yards
from the entrance to the upper city, a gloomy looking portal, covered
with rusty sheet iron, had been opened for the first time this century.
This doorway, pierced in the rough sandstone of the old Spanish
_enceinte_, led through some gloomy vaults into the very centre of the
venerable citadel. Close by a Tunisian guard was drawn up, and a little
in advance of the door and nearer the brow of a hill, were the Governor
and Vice-Governor of the town, sitting on their horses, and patiently
waiting to do Sidna’s behests, and “welcome the conquerors as brothers.”
Their aides-de-camp carried huge umbrellas instead of arms, but abject
shame was written on the face of every individual composing that little
group. Since the days when Carthaginian captives graced a Roman triumph,
I doubt if history has known many greater humiliations, than that of
these unfortunate Tunisian officers, compelled by political expediency
to conduct their enemies with smiles and blandishments into the heart of
the capital of their country.
I asked the Vice-Governor, Sy Hasan Emdelgi (one of the most magnificent
men I ever saw, and at least 6 feet 5 inches in height), the name of the
lately opened postern. He smiled, as only Moors can smile, and said
significantly, “Bab-el-Ghadar,” which is, being interpreted, “the
traitor’s door.” A few minutes later I saw the French troops winding up
the hill towards the town. At eight o’clock precisely two battalions of
infantry and a battery of artillery reached the Kasbah, and quietly
entered it by the “Bab-el-Ghadar.” From the hill I could distinctly see
the cavalry under General Maurand making for the “Bab-el-Háthra” or Gate
of Verdure. In the course of the morning a French camp was pitched on
the parade opposite the French Residency, and the forts Rebta and Ali
Raïs were occupied by the troops. These movements had hardly begun when
M. Roustan issued a circular to the Consular body, signed by him as
French Minister Resident and delegate of the Bey, informing the foreign
representatives of the occupation of Tunis as a military and defensive
measure. The acting Italian Consul-General refused even to acknowledge
its receipt. At ten o’clock Signor Pestalozza, chief interpreter of the
Italian Consulate, proceeded to Goletta to present to the Bey a lengthy
protest drawn up by Signor Raybaudi Massiglia, acting Italian Consul-
General and political agent, in the name of the Italian Government
against the military occupation of Tunis as a violation of the Italian
Convention of 1868, and holding the Bey responsible for the
consequences.
It afterwards transpired that a regular convention had been agreed upon
for the occupation of the town between the Bey and the Minister
Resident, by which it was stipulated that the French should reach the
citadel by an unused gate, that no triumphal demonstration should be
made during the entry, that the mosques and sanctuaries should be
respected, that native police officers should accompany any troops
patrolling the Arab quarters, and that the French and Tunisian flags
should be hoisted together at certain points on Fridays and Sundays.
Later in the day I obtained an order to visit the Kasbah, or citadel,
which has rarely, if ever, been seen by a European since the Spaniards
evacuated it in 1574. The _enceinte_ is about a mile in extent, and,
excepting a stucco façade looking towards the city, every building above
ground within it is hopelessly ruined, but even the remains of the
Spanish works of the sixteenth century are still magnificent. Its whole
area is traversed by enormous vaults, which are yet tolerably perfect.
Heaps of stone projectiles are to be seen in all directions; not a
single gun on the ramparts is any longer serviceable; and in the centre
of the ruins is an Arab tomb of exquisite beauty.
A week or so afterwards I had an opportunity of seeing the Dar-el-Bey,
or Town Palace, which is undoubtedly one of the most remarkable
buildings in the city, and occupies one side of the square facing the
citadel, which, strangely enough, received the name of Souk-el-Islam
three years ago, when Kheir-ed-Din Pacha was pleased to adorn it with
two rows of shops, built in a bastard kind of Hispano-Moorish style,
which were to be only tenanted by true believers. The exclusion of the
Jews ensured the speedy failure of the Souk-el-Islam as a commercial
speculation, and the shops and arcades became tenantless within a year
of the brilliant _fête_ which celebrated its inauguration; but its
projector had become meanwhile Grand Vizier of the Ottoman Empire. The
Dar-el-Bey contains a few rooms which the Alhambra might envy
(especially an octagon chamber, surmounted by a cupola lined with lace-
like carving in cement), but all that is modern is in the worst possible
taste of Southern Italy. The old suite of apartments was occupied by
Caroline of Brunswick, who, as I have before mentioned, happened to be
visiting Tunis when Lord Exmouth threatened to bombard Goletta a few
days after his attack on Algiers. Three years ago the comparatively new
and hideous portion of the palace was redecorated and refurnished for
the accommodation of the brother of the Emperor of Germany and his
daughter, who were entertained by the Bey for several days. In the Dar-
el-Bey Muhamed es Sadek received the Grand Cross of the Bath at the
hands of Admiral Yelverton, and there he has welcomed in succession
three of our own royal princes within the last quarter of a century. All
this is over now. One of the bitterest pangs the Bey has suffered since
he became a French vassal last May, was occasioned him a fortnight ago,
when M. Roustan demanded the surrender of the Dar-el-Bey, as a residence
for General Lambert and a site for the new Tunisian _Bureaux Arabes_.
The old man wept, and pleaded in vain his religious obligation to pass
there the twenty-seventh day of each Ramadan fast. Of course he yielded
at last, but he refused to be comforted, even when the Resident
cynically remarked that the French would take good care of him at Tunis,
and consider him their guest during the next Ramadan. When I last
visited the Dar-el-Bey, workmen were busy in cleaning and painting the
rooms which had been occupied by the Prussian Red Prince, and which were
being furbished up for General Lambert, Commander of the Republican
Guard of Paris, whose nomination as Military Governor of Tunis was daily
expected. A group of old Turkish guards were looking on dolefully enough
at the proceedings of the French soldiers, and on the façade of the
palace at least a dozen of General Saussier’s manifestoes were rudely
pasted up. The general’s proclamation, in Arabic, ran thus:—
_Notice from the General commanding the French Forces._
As Commander-in-Chief of the French Army in Tunis, it becomes my duty to
inform the tribes of this country that the French Government, as an ally
of his Highness the Bey of Tunis has sent me here to restore
tranquillity. Those who till now are in peace have nothing to fear. The
French soldiers will interfere with nobody; but at the same time, a
signal punishment will await those who rebel against the authority of
the Bey, or endeavour to induce others to revolt against him.
Given at the French Camp at Goletta, on this the 16th day of October
1881.
(Signed)
The Commander-in-Chief, SAUSSIER.
The great door of the Kasbah looking into the Souk-el-Islam was still
closed, not to be opened until General Lambert came into residence at
the Dar-el-Bey. The untenanted shops might also have been utilised for
the French garrison, as the tents among the scorpions and other reptiles
which frequent the ruins of Spanish magnificence inside the citadel, are
hardly habitable during the autumn rains.
The transformation of the once Moslem city _par excellence_ of Barbary
into a French garrison town is going on slowly but surely. Its
inhabitants are now awakened by French bugle-calls; gendarmes are
stationed at all the principal points, both within and without the
walls; one police post after another is quietly vacated by its ragged
Tunisian occupants and unobtrusively occupied by French soldiers; the
General Commandant des Troupes Françaises dans la Circonscription de
Tunis has rented a large house adjoining the Residency for a year, and
the Archbishop of Algeria and Tunis has taken a five years’ lease of an
eligible palace, and is building a Cathedral. The _cafés_ and hotels are
full of French officers, both civil and military, and grandly dressed
Algerian _goums_ drink their absinthe at the innumerable _buvettes_
which have sprung up in all directions as if by magic, and clank their
swords on the pavement as if the annexation of the Regency to Algeria
was already a _fait accompli_. The Jews rejoice in the occupation as a
source of security and profit, the Italians detest it as a death-blow to
all their hopes, the French and Maltese regard it with a feeling very
much akin to relief, and the Arabs speak of it with bated breath; and
although their belief in _kismet_ is strong, they still hope against
hope that somehow or other the Sultan and Caliph will one day have his
own again.