INSIDE KAIRWÁN.
Although Kairwán is only six days’ journey from London, it was a month
ago quite as much a _terra incognita_ as many of the great towns of
Central Africa. Few still existing cities have played so important a
part in the world’s history, yet the world knew it not. Only a hundred
miles south of Tunis itself, and but forty miles away from the great and
busy highway of the Mediterranean, Kairwán, secure in its exclusiveness
and its sanctity, has slumbered away the 1200 years of its existence,
until it suddenly finds itself in the presence of a foe that it is
powerless to resist, and discovers that even its most venerated shrines
and sanctuaries can no longer be hidden from the gaze of unbelievers. It
would be difficult to describe the precise offence which Kairwán has
committed to merit the signal punishment it has received. For centuries
it has been the centre of the great nomadic tribes which surround it,
and in the early days of the Tunisian insurrection the old spirit of its
inhabitants may have momentarily revived. If such was indeed the case,
the Kairwánis must have soon realised their own impotency. The
bombardment of Sfax and Gabes conveyed to them a very practical lesson;
and the religious authorities of Kairwán in council were not likely to
rely on their own legend—that their crumbling ramparts and ruined
bastions were shot and shell proof. In vain they begged their more
courageous disciples to retire from the city: the latter refused to act
contrary to the theoretical teaching of their _Ulemas_; and it was only
when the French columns were actually visible, and the destruction of
the city imminent, that the nonagenarian Bash-Mufti of Kairwán succeeded
in persuading the Zlass chiefs to rapidly retire to the neighbouring
mountains, and then saved the town from certain destruction by sending a
frightened _muezzin_ to wave a square yard of white calico from the
crenellated minaret of the mosque of the conqueror of Africa.
[Illustration: KAIRWÁN.
1. Grand Mosque of Okhbah.
2. Kisla (Citadel).
3. Záonia Abd el Kadir el Ghiláni.
4. Djáma bou thletha Biban.
5. Záonia Tidjania.
5. Bab et-Tunis.
6. Covered Market.
7. Three Mosques in chief street.
8. Governor’s House.
9. Záonia Sidi Abíd.
10. Bab Djelladín.
11. Záonia Aïssouriá.
12. Gate of Peaches.
13. New Gate.
14. Mosque of Olive tree.
15. Mosque Amîr Abáda.
16. Road to Záonia Sidi Essaheb.
17. Cistern.
18. Citadel Gate.
19. Mounds now fortified.
20. Great Cemetery.
21. Market extra muros.
A. Faubourg Jibliyeh.
B. Faubourg Kabliyeh.]
Kairwán is built in the centre of a wide-stretching sandy plain, fringed
on three sides by mountains, and towards the west by a low range of
hills which separates it from the sea-coast. This plain is traversed on
the same side by two streams, dry in summer, but strong enough in winter
to surround the city with a marsh. Excepting scanty tufts of esparto
grass, no sort of verdure is to be seen in any direction. It was in such
a spot as this that about the year A.D. 675 (A.H. 55), the Emir Okhbah
Ben Nafi Ben Abdullah Ben Kaïs el Fahri laid the foundation of the Holy
City of North Africa. For a thousand years, as far as can be
ascertained, no Christian ever visited it. Since then a few travellers
have been at intervals allowed to enter it on sufferance, the local
authorities being entitled to reject the Bey’s order if so disposed.
When once admitted, visitors were carefully allowed to see as little as
possible. An entrance to any building was of course out of the question,
and the traveller had to be generally contented with a rapid passage
through the most unfrequented streets under a strong escort; and finding
a prolonged stay useless, he generally seems to have taken his departure
as speedily as possible. Dr. Shaw accordingly only devotes two pages of
his book to his stay at Kairwán in 1730. He identifies it, however, on
insufficient grounds, with the Roman Vicus Augusti, and says it
contained 500 mosques. Sir Grenville Temple, just one century later,
journeyed “to the present hotbed of all the bigotry of Muhammedanism in
Africa.” He was, nevertheless, able to tell very little about it beyond
the names of its gates, for his “promenade through the town was managed
with the greatest mystery;” and after rejecting a proposal of the Caid
to take a walk in the dark, he was finally allowed to parade the
streets, “observing a most dignified silence and a steady solemn pace.”
When the Marquis of Waterford entered Kairwán ten years afterwards, a
riot ensued, in which he very nearly lost his life from a well-directed
brickbat. Dr. Davis added nothing whatever to the information given by
Shaw and Temple. In 1861, Monsieur Victor Guérin devoted three sultry
days in August to an attempt to explore the mysteries of Kairwán. He
remarks, that “although Tunis has become for centuries the political
metropolis of the Regency, Kairwán has always held in the minds of the
masses of its population the position of its religious capital. Founded
by the conqueror Okhbah at the time of the invasion of North Africa by
the Arabs, it has preserved on account of its origin a _prestige_ which
no other place in the Regency even attempts to dispute. It is _the_ Holy
City _par excellence_, the capital of a belief, the metropolis where the
Crescent rules with undisputed sway. There the _muezzin_, who calls the
faithful to prayer from its many minarets, has never yet seen the symbol
of a creed which knows not Muhammed or a rival sanctuary. There, too,
the _Imám_, interpreter and apostle of the Koran, has never found
himself in the presence of a minister of the Gospel of Christ, Kairwán
has been effectually closed against Christians from the time of its
foundation.”
The existence of the city sprang originally from the necessities of
conquest. The Berbers of the first century adopted towards their
invaders the same tactics as the Bedouins of to-day: they either
submitted to or fled before the armies of Islam, but revolted as soon as
the troops of the Caliph withdrew. Okhbah himself describes the _raison
d’être_ of Kairwán: “When the Mussulman generals enter Africa, the
inhabitants protect their lives and property by a profession of the
faith of Islam. When our armies retire, they again fall into infidelity.
We must therefore build a city which will serve as the camp and the
ramparts of the faith of Muhammed.” Although the original site selected
was abandoned for another two miles off during the temporary absence of
its great founder, the first care of Okhbah on his return to Africa in
A.D. 684, was to restore and enlarge his favourite city. Tradition
associates with the original foundation of Kairwán a legend almost
identical with those of St. Patrick and St. Hilda. At the word of Okhbah
wild beasts and reptiles alike withdrew from its neighbourhood. The
etymology of its name has been a matter of dispute. According to Shaw,
Kairwán is only the equivalent of _Caravan_, a place of meeting; while
others contend it was so called after Käyrawán or Cyrene, the capital of
Cyrenaïca. The most plausible explanation is, that the name signifies
simply _Kahira_ or victory. Kairwán is the Cairo of Tunis and its
adjacent provinces. During the year of his return to power (A.D. 684),
Okhbah carried the victorious banner of Islam to the shores of the
Atlantic; but he never lived to return to the “camp and ramparts of the
faith of the Prophet.” Slain in an ambush by a Berber king, he was
buried thirty miles from Biskera in Algeria, where his tomb, covered by
a comparatively humble _kouba_, is still the object of reverence and
pilgrimage. Upon this subject Mr. Rae (the only European traveller who
has even attempted anything like a complete survey of Kairwán) falls
into a curious mistake. Speaking in his “Country of the Moors” (p. 237)
of the Great Mosque of Kairwán, he describes it as “the shrine _and
tomb_ of its founder, Okhbah Ibn Aghlab—the spot chosen, from its
sanctity, as the last resting-place of the kings of Tunis.” Mosques are
rarely if ever used as places of interment. The kings of Tunis sleep
under the Green Cupola of the Turba, in the political capital of the
Regency, and Okhbah the Victorious rests in the Algerian Sahara.
The history of Kairwán has been of sufficient importance to influence
appreciably the history of Europe and Africa. On the untimely death of
Okhbah, the Berber king, Kassila, succeeded in occupying it. Twenty
years later he was slain by Zohair Ben Kaïs outside its walls. His
successor, Hassan Ben Nouman, was defeated by a Berber queen, who
endeavoured to render the country unattractive to the Arabs by
converting it into a desert. This policy alienated her own subjects, and
in A.D. 708, Musa Ibn Noseir obtained an easy victory. Then came the
golden period of its existence: the gallant Tarik marched out of its
gates to conquer Spain. Having “burned his ships” at Tarifa, Granada,
Cordova, and Toledo fell in rapid succession. The aged Musa hurried
westwards to participate in his glory before Seville, which, after a
protracted resistance, shared the fate of its sister cities. His son,
Abd el Aziz, laid the solid foundations of the Moorish empire in Spain,
which lasted for well-nigh eight centuries. Before thirty years had
elapsed since Tarik left Kairwán, the Caliph of Cordova had conquered
Tours. But the time of Moslem conquest was now soon destined to be
stayed. The reflection of the glories of Kairwán, of Tarik, and Musa, is
to be found in the ruins of Granada and Cordova. Vanquished in Europe,
the Moors of Andalusia brought back at last the keys of their Spanish
houses to the cradle of their faith in Africa.
To return to the chronicles of their holy city. During its earliest days
its site had been, as it were, consecrated to Islam by the presence of
Abdullah Ben Wádib el Belawi, or Abou el Awib—_Saheb Ennabi_, or
Companion of the Prophet—who died and was buried at Kairwán. For years
after its formation, its Emirs were engaged in continual conflicts with
the Berber tribesmen. In A.D. 756, the Emir Abd el Rahman was strong
enough to send an expedition against Sicily. In the Great Mosque of
Okhbah he afterwards declared himself independent of the Caliph: his
son, however, once more acknowledged his suzerainty. Nine years later
the city fell under the cruel sway of the Werfadjoumah. Once more the
Berbers seized Kairwán; but after enduring the horrors of a siege, they
destroyed a large portion of the city, and finally withdrew to the
Atlas. The Caliph sent Yezid Ibn Hatem to restore order; and after
inflicting a second signal defeat on the Africans, he “rebuilt the Great
Mosque, established numerous bazaars, and assigned to each trade a
distinct quarter—in fact, remodelled and half rebuilt the city.” At
length the Caliph el Reschid appointed the Emir Ibrahim Ibn el Aghlab
hereditary Emir of Kairwán. Ibrahim then became the founder of the
Aghlabite dynasty. He constructed a sort of fortified palace on the west
of the old town, called the Abassiyeh. Here Ibrahim proclaimed himself
Caliph of the West, and here he received the ambassadors of Charlemagne,
who asked for the surrender of the remains of St. Cyprian. His sons, the
Caliphs of Kairwán, waged war on Italy and Sicily: one of them,
Muhammed, captured Malta. In 877, Ibrahim Ibn Ahmed founded most of the
towns on the Tunisian littoral. He also built the suburban city of
Raccadah, and successfully besieged Tunis after it had been captured by
some insurgents. His grandson, Ziadet Allah, was the last of his race;
and a line of Green Caliphs, beginning with Obeid Allah, reigned in
Kairwán. He “ravaged Lombardy, took Genoa, and ruled in Sicily.”
From the eleventh century the history of Kairwán has been one of gradual
decay. The pleasant places of the Abassiyeh and Raccadah have become
shapeless mounds; the power of its rulers has been gradually merged in
that of the Beys of Tunis; and the halo of sanctity and exclusiveness
which surrounds it has alone saved it from actual effacement. Its story
and traditions rendered Kairwán a Moslem Rome—revered throughout Western
Islam, but the particular sanctuary of the tribes which encamp around
it. Kairwán has had its theologians, historians, philosophers, and
poets: they, however, have all passed away. The famous Schanoun died
there towards the end of the ninth century; and Kairwán has its own
annalist—the celebrated Sheikh Ben Naji.
For years Kairwán has lived on traditions and hopes. Thirty years ago
Sheikh Amír Abádah fanned the expiring flame, and announced that Kairwán
would one day receive the remains of the founder of the Moslem faith. In
spite of its vicissitudes, Kairwán in its decline always remained the
virgin Moslem town of Northern Africa.
“De là,” writes M. Guérin, “l’espèce de sainte et mystérieuse auréole
dont la foi Musulmane l’entoure; les caravans qui s’y rendent
constamment de tous les points de la Tunisie viennent s’y retremper en
quelque sorte dans l’Islamisme; sa grande mosquée dont toutes les
pierres, suivant une tradition populaire, que les Imáms ont soin de
perpétuer dans les masses, seraient venues miraculeusement se poser
d’elles-même à la place qu’elles occupent, et sans cesse visitée avec un
profond respect par les adeptes du Coran: les sanctuaires de ses santons
sont également le but de pélerinages fréquents; tout cela entretient
dans l’esprit des masses un fanatisme que rien jusqu’ici n’a pu
affaiblir.”
Reasons such as these have rendered the past, present, and future of
Kairwán a matter of deep interest wherever the faith of Islam exists;
and it is hardly to be wondered at that the Moslem press of Turkey,
Egypt, and India has dwelt with peculiar earnestness on the entry of a
Christian army into this one remaining stronghold of their common creed
in Africa.
As late as 1877, Mr. Rae was assailed with threats and abuse on somewhat
rashly endeavouring to survey the circuit of the city walls; and when,
in 1880, an Italian lady first appeared in their midst, the inhabitants
told her in no measured language “to cover her face,” but these days of
intolerance were soon to end. In April 1881, Lord and Lady Bective
journeyed to Kairwán; and although they only saw the streets and
exteriors of buildings, the remembrance of Lady Bective’s graceful and
kindly sympathy still survives in the hearts of the Kairwánis, who about
then for the first time began to hear the dark rumours of an approaching
French invasion of their country.
[Illustration: THE COUNTESS OF BECTIVE, IN AN ARAB COSTUME.
Reproduction by Maclure & Macdonald.]
The chief men of Kairwán hastened to take Lord Bective into their
confidence and entreated him to put the case of the Arabs before the
Queen and “the justice of the English nation,” and even the Moorish
ladies, in the deep recesses of their lattice-windowed cages, clung to
Lady Bective and implored her to save them from the coming storm. “If
you tell us to fight,” said one of the Zlass chiefs to Lord Bective, “we
would only let the French come to the tomb of Sidi es Saheb over our
bodies, but your English Consul says we are to be quiet and all will be
well, we shall therefore trust to you and receive the French as
brothers.” The old Governor did his best to entertain his guests with
music and _fantasia_, but his heart and the heart of the people were far
away with their brethren in Khamír-land. When at last Lord Bective and
his wife left the Tanners’ Gate on their return to Susa, they were
followed far on their road by a crowd of the citizens, who again and
again asked them to remember their message to the Queen.
It was with feelings of no little enthusiasm that I left Susa to explore
the hitherto hidden treasures of Kairwán, to see sights till now hidden
from Christian eyes, and to tread where Christian had never dared to
enter before. My sole guide was the works of Messrs. Guérin, Pélissier,
and Rae; and a strong recommendation from General Lambert to General
Étienne led me to hope that my voyage of discovery would not be
altogether fruitless. On the 5th of November I quitted the New Gate of
Susa in early morning. It was as yet hardly light; but during our
passage across two lines of low hills covered with olive-trees, the
scenes of the combats of the past five weeks were just visible. As day
dawned we emerged from the olive-groves on to a wide-spreading open
plain. After two hours we began to skirt a shallow lake. This was the
Sebkha Sidi el Hani—the Lake of Kairwán. Shortly afterwards we came in
sight of two stunted cupolas on a mound. These were the tombs of Sidi el
Hani and his son. A small French camp surrounded them. A convoy had
miscarried, and the soldiers made loud complaints. The wooden sarcophagi
of the Moslem saints (or perhaps, as M. Guérin terms them, _santons_)
had served for firewood on the previous day. In the open plain below the
tomb and the camp were nine wells, one of which at least contained
drinkable water. We pressed forward and passed a sandy ridge. Kairwán
became visible in the far west. The city seemed a mere streak of white;
but the Minár of Sidi Okhbah stood out in conspicuous relief against a
background of purple hills. We came nearer, and countless smaller domes
and minarets seemed to spring into existence. Crossing two dried-up
water-courses (the principal of which is the Oued Beghla), we approached
the city walls and then the Tanners’ Gate (Bab-el-Djelladín). The
governor’s residence almost adjoins it. Within an hour of my arrival, Sy
Amor Ben Yunes el Khaia offered me the hospitality of his house. Sy Amor
was the _Khaia_ or military governor of one of the divisions of the
Zlass clan, which had joined in his defence of the country; and during
my stay he was chiefly engaged in the evidently uncongenial task of
persuading his tribesmen to return.
The Tunisian governor, whom I visited, seemed to feel acutely the
humiliation of his position. His normal occupation gone, he was allowed
the solace of a guard of Tunisian soldiers in receipt of French pay.
Sidi Muhammed el Mourabet comes of ancient lineage. His great ancestor,
Sidi Abíd el Khiryáni, died five centuries ago, and he was of the
Almoravides. The Mourabets have been guardians of his shrine ever since.
Sidi Muhammed’s father, Sidi Othmán, received Sir Grenville Temple in
1835. He told me, mournfully enough, that as the French had entered the
mosques he could not forbid my doing so; but he seemed exceedingly
depressed. It afterwards transpired that the shrine of Sidi Abíd had
been that morning taken possession of to serve as the quarters for the
_Commandant de la Place_ and his staff. During my six days’ stay in the
city, the French authorities gave me every possible facility for the
prosecution of my inquiries. Colonel Moulin (the occupant of the
sanctuary of Sidi Abíd) procured me an authentic plan of Kairwán, just
completed by the French engineering department; and both he and his
aide-de-camp, Lieutenant Walewski, accompanied me in many of the visits
I paid to the most noteworthy objects of interest in the last “intact
Moslem town” in Africa.
The city of Kairwán has seven irregular sides, and is surrounded by a
high brick wall intersected by towers and bastions, and pierced by five
principal gates and four posterns (now closed). The rampart is composed
of very small well-baked bricks, and terminates in round-headed
crenellations, about a foot wide, with loopholes below for musketry. It
varies in thickness from six to nine feet, and a terrace four or five
feet from the top allows a line of combatants to pass along it. In some
places the _enceinte_ is ruinous, in others it is in fairly good repair,
and its complete circuit measures 3125 French metres. Outside the walls
are several mounds, which consist probably of the remains of its ancient
suburbs. Three of these are now being fortified with earthworks and
artillery. On every side of the town except one, are large cisterns, in
which a walled receptacle allows the rain-water to pass into covered
vaults below. To the south of the town are its chief suburbs—Kubliyeh
and Jebliyeh, the latter having two gates and portions of a wall still
standing. The population of the town does not exceed 14,000 souls.
Kairwán is technically divided into five quarters—an arrangement based
apparently on a consideration of the Moslem confraternities to which
their inhabitants belong. Around the Great Mosque is the Haoumah or
Arbat Djama. Those who live there are generally followers of the
religious school of Sidi Abd el Kádir el Ghiláni. In the quarters known
as Chorfa, El Mahr, Jebliyeh, and Kubliyeh, the inhabitants nearly all
belong to the religious brotherhood of the Aïssaouia, except in the
latter, where many adherents of Sidi Abd es Selem are to be found. I
shall have occasion to refer again to the powerful influence exercised
by these great systems of semi-political, semi-religious Moslem
freemasonry.
Inside the rampart runs a narrow street, but this is often traversed by
the walls of enclosures adjoining the houses below. The main feature in
the public and private buildings of Kairwán is the wholesale
appropriation of Roman materials,—Roman and Byzantine capitals, shafts,
and friezes meet the eye in all directions. If you draw water, the well
is reached by a perforated Roman column; the very stones of the corn-
mills have a similar origin, and many of the slabs now bearing Arabic
inscriptions are probably reversed Roman tablets. Most of these stones
are believed to have come from the neighbouring ruins of Sabra, but the
gorgeous pillars of the Great Mosque probably represent the
architectural spoils of all North Africa. The streets of Kairwán are
narrow, ill paved, and wholly devoid of any systematic arrangement. The
main thoroughfare crosses the southern portion of the city from the
Tanners’ Gate (Bab-el-Djelladín) to the Tunis Gate (Bab-el-Tunis), a
distance of less than half a mile.
[Illustration: GREAT MOSQUE OF SIDI AKBA—KAIRWAN]
[Illustration: _Mosque of Sidi Okhba at Kairwán, from the Cloisters._]
[Illustration: EXTERIOR OF GREAT MOSQUE, KAIRWÁN.]
[Illustration: _Door of Prayer-Chamber, Great Mosque, Kairwán._]
[Illustration: _Door of Prayer-Chamber, Great Mosque, Kairwán._]
[Illustration: _Interior, Great Mosque, Kairwán._]
[Illustration: _Interior, Great Mosque, Kairwán._]
The northern quarter of Kairwán is almost wholly taken up by the Great
Mosque, which is only approached by narrow lanes. The exterior has been
well described by Mr. Rae, and can hardly be said to be particularly
imposing. The south-east end of the Mosque measures 85 yards. A single
porch in its centre is appropriated exclusively for the entrance of the
Bash-Mufti. The sides of the building are 143 yards in length, and each
possesses four entrance porches, the finest of these facing the
ramparts. Mr. Rae thus describes it: “It has an outer horse-shoe arch,
and an inner one which contains the door opening direct into the prayer-
chamber. The exterior is a finely proportioned piece of Saracenic work:
it has a row of arched panels along the upper portion of its sides, and
the dome and interior of its arches are in plaster fretwork.” Midway, on
the same side, is the sacred well of _Kefâyat_ (Plenty). It is fenced in
by a low wall, its aperture is lined with different coloured marbles,
and tradition asserts that it communicates directly with the spring of
Zemzem at Mecca. It has hardly ever failed to yield a plentiful supply
of water. The north-west end is somewhat narrower than that facing the
south-east. It measures only 75 yards across, and the Minár rises in its
centre. The four porches on both sides of the building correspond, and
they are divided by enormous buttresses of solid masonry. The interior
of the Mosque may be divided into the prayer-chamber (40 yards in length
by 85 in breadth), the vestibule adjoining it, and a great cloistered
court. The roof of the prayer-chamber is loftier than that of the
vestibule, and that of the vestibule higher than that of the court. The
prayer-chamber is divided into a great central nave, with eight aisles
on each side of it. These are formed by parallel rows of ten columns
each, the two nearest to the eastern wall being close together. The
pillars of the lesser aisles are of various-coloured marble, and are
about fifteen feet in height. The capitals in many cases evidently do
not belong to the columns on which they rest, but they are generally of
white marble or stone. From the capitals spring semicircular arches
supporting a flat ceiling of dark-coloured wood. In the south-west walls
of the prayer-chamber, thirteen columns are embedded in the masonry,
three close together on one side of the porch, and one on the other. The
latter evidently came from some Byzantine church, and its capital
consists of a grotesque arrangement of birds and flowers. The columns of
the central nave are at least twenty-two feet high. Their arches support
a wall covered with tracery, and a lofty circular roof. The nave
terminates in a dome lighted by small painted-glass windows. Two groups
of four columns each mainly support the weight of the cupola. The
_mihráb_ niche in the east stands between two red porphyry pillars of
great beauty, and is lined with delicate mosaic in marble and lapis-
lazuli. On one side of it is a large square of white marble covered with
emblems in mosaic, and surmounted by a slab of _verde antique_; on the
other stands the ancient _mimbar_ or pulpit of carved dark wood, some
ten feet high, and having twelve steps, and a number of small
receptacles with bronze hinges below them. The pillars of the nave are
arranged in groups of two or three together, and one of these clusters
is worn away by the faithful squeezing themselves between them to prove
their “purity of soul.” The total number of columns in the prayer
chamber is 296. The pavement consists of small slabs of white marble
hopelessly broken. The vestibule is approached by seventeen elaborately
carved and panelled wooden doors. When these are open, the dim religious
light which generally pervades the seventeen aisles disappears. The
great central door is surmounted by a horse-shoe arch, the head of which
is filled up by fine arabesque fretwork. In the vestibule are 34
pillars, those in the centre being much higher than the rest. This part
of the building opens on to the cloister beyond—a vast quadrangle paved
with white marble, and almost entirely surrounded by a covered arcade,
only broken by the Minár. This arcade contains 86 columns on either
side, and 27 at the end. The total number of the pillars in the interior
of the Great Mosque is therefore 439, not far short of the 500 spoken of
by El Bekiri—a statement usually looked on as fabulous.[7] In this court
are several other Byzantine columns. On four of the pillars Arabic
inscriptions are carved. One belongs to the fourth century of the
Hegira, and its design is extremely curious.
[Illustration: MINÁR OF GREAT MOSQUE, KAIRWÁN.]
Below the court are enormous cisterns, and in the centre an ancient sun-
dial. The Minár is a massive square building of stone, consisting of
three storeys, one smaller than the other, and each having a battlement
of round-headed crenellations. In the interior is a white marble
staircase, composed of fragments of Roman pavement and ornamentation. It
has 129 steps, and is about 100 feet high. The view from the summit was
one never to be forgotten. Immediately below were the cupolas, terraces,
tortuous streets, and battlements of Kairwán. Farther on, its suburbs,
with its border of _koubas_ and tombs. To the west, the great camps of
Generals Logerot and Forgemol, with their almost countless tents and
vast convoys. Far away to the north, the mountains over which the French
troops had marched on Kairwán: to the south, the hills over which the
columns must now pass on their expedition towards Gabes and Gafsa.
Descending from the tower, I observed two Roman inscriptions at the side
of the entrance. One was reversed, but apparently read thus:—
HIC MAXIME IMPERA
TORIS CAESARIS N,S,
DIVI TRAJANIA.
DHEP : CAE : AEDEM.
FECERUNT.
A second was more easily decipherable:—
ANTONINI FILI
AURELLIA ANTONINI
DIVI NERVAE AD
NEPOTIS
TET DEDICAVERUNT.
A few months ago, in executing some repairs outside the Mosque, a tablet
was discovered and sent to Tunis. It is now in the possession of Mr.
Reade, Her Britannic Majesty’s Agent and Consul-General, and bears the
following inscription:—
DEO PLUTONI SACR : PRO SALU
TE DDDD. NNNN. DEOCLETIA
NI ET MAXIMIANI ET COSTANTI ET
MAXIMIANI NOB·LISIMI CAESSSS CO
TEMPULUM PLUT·NIS LABSUM ET
DEDICATUM PER INSTANTIA FELICI
CAELI FORTUNATI ET . . . ONI . . . ARSVN
. . . IS . . . FD· JUB·L. ET FORTVNATVS ALIQU . . .
TIS A·CARIUS· ET . . . IN·PO ET MAIEST CURA.
During the days I spent at Kairwán, I visited nearly every public
building in the place, as well as those _extra muros_; but only about
six of these edifices merit particular description. Many of the lesser
tombs and _zaouias_ are absolutely in ruins. There are sixty-three
mosques and over 100 sanctuaries in and around the city, including the
three _zaouias_ or college-monasteries of the Kádria, Tijánia, and
Aïssaouia sects. Close to the Great Mosque is the headquarters of the
brotherhood of Sidi Abd el Kádir el Ghiláni. It consists of a lofty
cupola, and the usual entrance-hall and cloister of marble columns and
arches leading to a number of conventual cells. The great door is
covered with copper. The principal apartment is lighted by stained-glass
windows. The chief inhabitants of Kairwán all belong to this
association, which, having its headquarters at Baghdad, exercises
considerable influence throughout Islam. The Kádria have always opposed
French aggression; the Emir Abd el Kádir himself was one of their most
zealous sectaries; and it was in this _zaouia_ that, after long and
serious discussions, the hopelessness of a defence was fully realised,
and the chiefs of the warlike tribes of the south, still true to the
traditions of their faith, were entreated to depart to save the sacred
monuments of Kairwán from inevitable destruction.
Leaving the Zaouia Kádria, a short walk brought us to a remarkable
building in the centre of the town—the Djáma Bou Thetha Bou Bibán (the
Mosque of the Three Doors). The exterior of this edifice is thus
accurately described by Mr. Rae:—
It has a plain façade, with a triple gateway, the arches of which are
supported by marble columns. . . . Its chief feature is the rare old
carved stonework, which gives it the air of the front of a fine old
Crusaders’ church. It runs above and about the arches, extending across
the front in broad bands of successive text and ornament, in solid,
deep, beautiful chiselling: first a line of running foliage two feet in
depth; then a band of Kufic or early Arabic characters free and bold;
then a row of alternate panels of carvings, each containing a single
rose or a leaf pattern; then text and carvings alternately; and finally,
the mouldings and corbels of the cornice.
The interior consists of one poor room, some thirty feet broad by twenty
deep. Its roof is supported by sixteen columns, most of them having
richly sculptured Corinthian capitals. The Creed of Islam, in raised
bricks, runs around the stunted Minár; and this feature is very general
in nearly all the mosques of Kairwán. Almost opposite the Djáma Bou
Thetha Bou Bibán is a college hardly less important than that of the
Kádria—the _zaouia_ of Sidi Hussein el Aláni, the headquarters at
Kairwán of the followers of Sidi Ahmíd el Tidjáni. The principal seat of
this powerful confraternity is at Temássin, in the Sahara of
Constantine; the Bey of Tunis is one of its affiliated members; and its
teachings seem calculated, according to M. Duveyrier, to allow of an
understanding, or at least a _modus vivendi_, between Christian rulers
and Moslem subjects. At the gate we were received by the guardian of the
_zaouia_—Sy Amor el Aláni—who explained that he had studied in the
college of Tidjáni in Temássin, and had subsequently become the
representative of the association at Kairwán. He said that he
considered, on this account, his college entitled to very especial
protection on the part of the French. The tomb of Sidi Hussein is
approached through a cloister: the apartment containing the catafalque
which covers his remains is surmounted by a lofty melon-shaped cupola.
In the four walls there are twelve stained-glass windows, and there are
sixteen others in a circular band of arabesque fretwork, from which the
dome springs. The floor is paved with marble. Just beyond this building
is the college of Sidi Abdullah Ben Khút Hami. In the court, shaded by a
wide-spreading fig-tree, are three fine Byzantine columns. The cupola
over Sidi Abdullah’s tomb and that of one of his relatives, has an inner
lining of perforated carving in cement, which is singularly effective.
Leaving this building, we regained the main thoroughfare just opposite
the Tanners’ Gate and Tunisian governor’s house.
In a lane to the right is the finest specimen of Moorish architecture
within the walls of the city—the sanctuary of the Almoravides, and the
burying-place of the Mourabet family from the time of Sidi Abíd el
Ghryáni in A.H. 805. The entrance-door is very striking. A broad horse-
shoe arch, nearly forty feet high, rests on two marble pillars, each
bearing a Kufic inscription; the interior of the arch is filled up by a
doorway of pure white marble, and a window with a bronze grating.
Between the two runs a broad band of different-coloured marbles; and the
whole is framed, as it were, in a tasteful arrangement of black and
white marble slabs. A vestibule leads to a finely proportioned court
having two arcades one above the other; the centre is paved with black
and white marble in geometrical patterns. A white marble basin in the
centre catches the rain-water, and attracts the birds. The columns are
of marble, the arches above of stone. At either angle is a chamber:
three of these contain tombs; that of Sidi el Abíd is enclosed by bronze
grating, and the catafalque above it is covered by a pall of embroidered
silk and velvet. Opposite the entrance is a small mosque (the family
chapel of the Mourabets) having a door on either side of a niche, lined
with arabesque tracery, flanked by porphyry pillars, and surmounted by
the Moslem Confession of Faith boldly carved in relief in Kufic
characters on a slab of the purest white marble. The interior of the
mosque presents the usual features—a flat roof supported by sixteen
Roman columns and arches, and a _mihráb_ adorned with carving in hard
stucco. A passage to the left of the doorway leads to a second arched
cloister surrounded by conventual cells: many of its columns are fine
specimens of Byzantine art. Beyond this is a small open burying-ground.
The upper storey of the principal court also contains thirteen small
rooms. On the day of my arrival this beautiful building was occupied by
Colonel Moulin and his staff. About thirty of the smaller _zaouias_ and
mosques are now tenanted by French soldiers composing the garrison, as
well as all the houses belonging to the Zlass chieftains, who have gone
to harass the French march towards the desert in the far south.
Returning to the Dar el Wazir, we passed along the great street. Nearly
in the centre of the town is a covered grain-market, the roof of which
rests on massive columns with large capitals. A little farther on there
is a cluster of three mosques, built over shops and the bazaar. The
Djáma el Melik, on the left, has a lofty minaret, with the usual band of
Kufic inscription in brickwork on its exterior. The Mosque of the Bey,
on the opposite side of the road, has a similar tower, and in its
interior are galleries, after the manner of English churches at the
commencement of this century. The Djáma el Barôta, almost adjoining it,
has a spacious dome of green tiles. When we at last succeeded in
obtaining an entrance to it, we found it had been converted into a mill,
and a camel was turning the stones by making frequent circuits round the
centre of the cupola. A relay of camels was comfortably stabled in
another apartment. On either side of the street is a row of small shops.
The makers of yellow-leather shoes work below the Mosque of the Bey; the
coppersmiths ply a busy and noisy trade between the Djáma el Melik and
the Bab-el-Tunis; but the carpet-makers are never seen. They are the
ladies of the old and historical families of the “intact Moslem city.”
Passing the _zaouia_ of Sidi Abd el Selam, we soon reached the Bab-el-
Tunis, opposite which is another small mosque, possessing no feature of
interest.
The five gates of Kairwán are called respectively the Bab-el-Tunis
(Tunis Gate), the Bab-el-Khaukh (Gate of Peaches,—not Greengages, as Mr.
Rae imagines), the Bab-el-Djelladín (Tanners’ Gate), the Bab-el-Kisla
(Citadel Gate), and the Bab Jedíd (New Gate). The first three of these
gates are almost precisely similar in form, possessing an outer and an
inner doorway, with an intervening court. The Bab-el-Tunis is the most
remarkable. The outer gate consists of two horse-shoe arches, resting on
Roman columns. Within them is a doorway of white marble, the jambs
consisting of slabs covered with exquisite inscriptions in relief,
belonging either to the seventh or eighth century of the Hegira, and a
tablet above recording the repair of the gate A.H. 1181. The Bab-el-
Djelladín was rebuilt in the same year, and the Gate of Peaches in A.H.
1180. The most modern building in Kairwán is the Kisla, or Kasbah, only
completed in A.H. 1283. It is on the same level as the rest of the town,
and is nothing more than a large square enclosure, having crenellated
walls somewhat higher than the ramparts, and a series of vaulted rooms
on each side to serve as barracks. Since the 26th October, the French
flag has floated alone from its roof.
[Illustration: COURTYARD OF TOMB OF SIDI ES SAHIB, KAIRWÁN.]
Emerging from the New Gate (either built or repaired in A.H. 1280), we
entered the suburb of the Jebliyeh. Opposite the Bab Jedíd is a small
mosque—the Djáma Zeitoun, evidently so called from a venerable olive-
tree growing in its courtyard. This building is very ancient, and a band
of ornamentation surrounding the Minár has been correctly copied by Mr.
Rae. The question as to the nature of this decoration has yet to be
solved. The columns in the interior evidently belong to the earliest
period of Roman buildings in Africa. A narrow lane leads through the
_faubourg_ Jebliyeh to the conspicuous mosque of Sidi Amír Abádah, quite
a modern, and certainly the most eccentric, building in Kairwán. Its
founder, a celebrated dervish named Amír Bed Sád Ben Muftea, was at the
zenith of his power at the time of the Russian war in 1854, and he
possessed a complete ascendency over the mind of the reigning Bey of
Tunis, Sidi Ahmed. The Bey had already defrayed the cost of the erection
of six lofty, melon-shaped, fluted cupolas, opening one into the other,
when the construction of a seventh was absolutely stopped by the death
of the saint and his patron. The dwelling-house of Amír Abádah,
adjoining the mosque, was built just twenty-nine years ago. Beyond this,
in a ford, lie four enormous anchors, measuring some sixteen feet by
nine. Whether they originally belonged to a European ship-of-war or a
galley of Malta, nobody knows. The people of Kairwán believe, on the
word of Sheikh Amír Abádah, that they once attached the ark of Noah to
Mount Ararat. Amír heard these anchors were at Porto Farina, near Tunis,
and he ordered Ahmed Bey to send them to him forthwith. His request was
complied with, and their transport across the sandy plain between Susa
and Kairwán occupied some 500 Arabs during five months. During the siege
of Sebastopol, Amír Abádah constructed two cannons with his own hands.
He wrote to the Bey that the Prophet had appeared to him and announced
that on their arrival before the beleaguered town the latter would at
once surrender. They were expeditiously forwarded to Tunis, and, at the
Bey’s pressing request, the Sultan sent a ship to convey them to
Constantinople, and thence to the Turkish camp before Sebastopol. By an
extraordinary coincidence, within a few hours of their being landed the
town capitulated. The fame of the last of the saints of Kairwán spread
far and wide, and the building of the seven cupolas went on for a time
rapidly enough. The Amír even asserted that his mosque was so holy that
the faithful could only enter certain portions of it. Most of the domes
have one or more broad bands of Arabic inscription, in raised brick,
running round the interior. In the entrance-hall are several tables of
wood, likewise covered with interminable Arabic inscriptions. The
guardian of the sanctuary, Haj Mabruk Ben Saleh Kírwani (who is the
husband of the great Sheikh’s only daughter), said they contained
prophecies of the French occupation of the city. On inspection, however,
they turned out to be an enumeration of French measures. The tomb of
Amír Abádah is barely a yard long. At his head are three Russian cannon-
balls, at his feet three large iron shells. Above the grave is a great
carved and painted wooden case, supporting one of the famous inscribed
tablets, at least twelve feet high, and a pipe of enormous dimensions,
covered with writing, and having a bowl capable of containing many
pounds of tobacco. Several stools around the tomb are curiously carved,
and on racks against the walls are sixty enormous iron swords (weighing
seventy or eighty pounds each), covered with mystical inscriptions. All
these weapons were manufactured by order of Ahmed Bey at Sheikh Amír
Abádah’s request; and he assured that prince (the prophecy now
discovered by his son-in-law notwithstanding), that as long as these
swords remained in holy Kairwán, no Christian enemy could invade the
Mecca of Tunis and Africa. From the Amír Abádah mosque a walk of half a
mile brought us to the grandest and most important building in
Kairwán—the tomb, _zaouia_, and mosque of Abdullah Ben Wádib el Belawi,
_Saheb Ennabi_,—“the shrine of my Lord, the Companion of the Prophet.”
The entrance to the interior of the sanctuary is through a doorway in
the base of a _minár_, which is built in the angle of a spacious court.
The exterior of the _minár_ is almost entirely coated with blue and
green tiles, and on either side of its upper portion there is a double
round-headed window divided by a marble pilaster in the centre. Its roof
is formed of bright green tiles terminating in a gilded crescent. The
lower storey of the tower forms the lobby or vestibule of the main
building. Its interior is lined with the brilliant Tunisian _faïence_ of
the seventeenth century, surmounted by panels of arabesque fretwork. A
second door opens from this apartment into an oblong cloister. The
arcade running round it rests on white marble pillars and arches, and it
covers a low marble seat on either side. The walls are decorated in the
same fashion as the lobby. At the upper end are two windows and a door
of pure white marble, highly decorated, and of Italian origin. This
leads into a second vestibule crowned with a fluted cupola, each
division of which is adorned with lace-like fretwork. The sides are
covered with _faïence_ and panels of finely chiselled carving in cement.
A door at one side communicates with a mosque and two other cloisters
surrounded by conventual cells. In each of the four walls of the
apartment is a small window filled with old stained glass; and the
circular band of arabesque design from which the melon-shaped dome
springs, is pierced with eight other apertures filled with coloured
glass, which is nearly concealed by delicate tracery, throwing a
thousand variegated reflections on the marble pavement beneath. Beyond
this beautiful room is a broad court surrounded by an arcade of white
marble pillars, and arches supporting a wooden roof beautifully painted
in squares. In a corner of the court is a cell containing a tomb. Here
lies Abdullah Ben Sharíf el Hindowi, an Indian pilgrim, who sought an
asylum and found a grave in Kairwán a century ago. At the farther end of
the cloister is a doorway and two windows from Rome or Florence. Their
cornices are profusely adorned with fruit and flowers, and the jambs of
the door are picked out in red porphyry. A massive grating of bronze
fills each window. The door itself is of carved dark wood. It led to the
tomb of “my Lord the Companion,” a more sacred spot, if possible, even
than the _mihráb_ of Okhbah himself; for here for nearly twelve hundred
years has slumbered a personal friend of the founder of the faith of
Islam, who lived, died, and was buried, wearing always as a symbol of
devotion a portion of the Prophet’s beard on his breast. I was the first
European who ever entered this Moslem _sanctum sanctorum_. The chamber
is about twenty-one feet square, and lofty. Its walls are covered with a
geometrical pattern worked out in black and white marble. Four lengthy
inscriptions are embedded in them, and the room is dimly lighted by four
small windows of rose-coloured and blue glass. From the cupola of
fretwork hangs a grand old chandelier of twisted Venetian glass. Below
this is the tomb itself, surrounded by a high grating of bronze, shut in
by four marble columns about seven feet high. From a rod, on a line with
the grating, hung festoons of ostrich-eggs and golden balls. The
catafalque above the grave is covered by two elaborately embroidered
palls: the first of black and white velvet, adorned with Arabic
inscriptions in silver, was the gift of the late Ahmed Bey; the second,
of pink and blue brocade, was a votive offering from Muhammed es Sadek.
Over these hung thirteen banners, rich in gold, silver, and
needlework—the tribute of the successors of Heussein Ben Ali to the
sanctuary of the Sidi Bou Awíb. Our visit was certainly unexpected, for
at least a dozen fine Arabic MSS. rested on as many lecterns of mother-
of-pearl and tortoise-shell in front of the screen. The guardian of the
_zaouia_ could hardly realise the fact of Christians desecrating by
their presence such holy ground. Running his amber chaplet through his
hands with feverish haste, he suddenly threw himself upon his face, and
probably prayed to be forgiven. Some Algerian soldiers who had followed
us, prostrated themselves before the tomb, and eagerly kissed the edge
of the palls through the metal lattice-work. Looking at the bright white
marble pillars of the cloister, my eye fell on one remarkable capital:
at either corner a bird supported a Greek cross in the centre. The
spoils of some fair Byzantine church had evidently been brought to
honour the resting-place of the “Friend of the Prophet.”
[Illustration: _The Tomb of Sidi-ex-Saheb Ennabi._]
Leaving this beautiful building with regret, a short walk brought us to
the necropolis of the Holy City—two square miles of countless graves.
Scattered about in all directions were memorials of every shape and
form: pillars of marble covered with elaborate tracery, and crowned with
a wide-spreading turban; white and grey slabs bearing long and ornate
inscriptions in Kufic; and monuments of every century since Kairwán was
founded,—lay piled one upon another in the confusion of decay. From
these unequalled memorials of the past the history of Arab dominion in
North Africa will probably be re-written.
Skirting the city walls and traversing the suburb of the Kubliyeh,
passing _en route_ a mosque with a _minár_ almost as much out of the
perpendicular as the Tower of Pisa, we come to a great _zaouia_ near the
Bab-el-Djelladín. Almost one-half of the inhabitants of Kairwán are
members of the Confraternity of the Aïssaouia. The Zaouia Sidi Bou Aïssa
is their sanctuary, and scene of their mystic rites. Passing into a
courtyard, we were welcomed by the local chief of the sect, Sy Hamuda
Ben Aïssa, who led the way to the main building. The college of Sidi Bou
Aïssa consists of a cupola some thirty feet high, flanked by two aisles
containing six arches each, all of which rest on an irregular
arrangement of fine old Roman shafts and capitals: both the dome and the
arcade on either side of it were festooned with ostrich-eggs, gilt
balls, and small lamps; and on the walls were suspended the tambourines,
earthenware drums, swords, metal prongs, and banners, which constitute
the stock-in-trade of the establishment. Nobody acquainted with the
rites and practices of the Aïssaouia could ever believe that the
slender, olive-complexioned, gentle-mannered, and courteous Sy Hamuda
was the head and moving spirit of such a brotherhood as this. The
Aïssaouia form one of those semi-religious orders which, as I have
stated before, render modern Islamism, as far as the North African
littoral is concerned, a sort of freemasonry. The followers of other
associations are to be found in all parts of the Moslem world; but the
Aïssaouia belong exclusively to the countries bordering on the
Mediterranean. Their founder was Muhammed Bou Aïssa of Mequinez, in
Morocco. Next to their headquarters at Mequinez itself, Kairwán is the
most important seat of their power. As far as can be ascertained, the
Aïssaouia have no decided political sympathies. Visitors in Algeria are
often admitted to their rites, and they have in some places become
almost as much a matter of show as dancing-girls and Arab concerts. Not
so at Kairwán. Here till the 7th November no Christian foot had ever
passed the threshold of the Zaouia Sidi Bou Aïssa. Here its ceremonies
and observances are carried out on a very imposing scale, and from
Kairwán the minor congregations of Southern and Northern Tunis receive
their instructions and commands. The guiding principle of the Aïssaouia
seems to be the greatest possible measure of self-inflicted bodily
torture, coupled with the greatest conceivable amount of religious
frenzy. Practical Aïssaouia only exist in North Africa; theoretical
Aïssaouia are to be found in all countries. During my visit I asked Sy
Hamuda if he had any objection to Europeans witnessing one of his
meetings. He replied that he would welcome them with pleasure, and even
organise a special assembly for their reception. In accordance with his
invitation, we repaired on the following evening once more to the
sanctuary of Sidi Bou Aïssa. The hall had been evidently decked and
garnished; the lamps burned brightly in the cupola amidst the golden
balls and ostrich-eggs; the sheikh was clothed in a rich silk robe of
office and an awe-inspiring green turban; and a row of rush-seated cane-
chairs was waiting to receive the expected visitors. In ten minutes six
or seven hundred Arabs filled every inch of available space. The Sheikh
Hamuda took his seat in the centre surrounded by the musicians, and an
old blind Aïssaouí, guided by a little girl, came in gently from a side
door and sat down beside him. The Aïssaouia themselves occupied the
whole space covered by the cupola. The aisles contained the Moslem
spectators of the first religious rite ever witnessed by Christian eyes
in the holy city of Kairwán. Amongst the Aïssaouia I noticed grey-
bearded and decrepit old men, many sedate-looking shopkeepers I had
previously seen in the bazaars, half a score of the Bey’s soldiers, and
a dozen children under twelve years of age. The sheikh struck a note on
a drum; the musicians began to play a peculiar and monotonous tone,
gradually increasing in intensity. After a pause several of the
Aïssaouia rose, and swaying backwards and forwards shoulder to shoulder,
shrieked a chorus to the sound of the drums. The music quickened, and so
did the chorus. Then one of the most wild-looking of the singers began
to throw off his clothes, and passed down the line to urge the others to
shout with renewed energy. Then one of the Tunisian soldiers (he wore
the Bey’s brass badge on his red cap) seized a sword and began to
lacerate his stomach. The blood flowed freely, and he imitated all the
time the cries and movements of the camel. We soon had a wolf, a bear, a
hyena, a jackal, a leopard, and a lion. One man knelt down before the
sheikh, and holding two long prongs to his sides, insisted on their
being driven into his flesh with blows of a mallet: this was done. A
mere lad did the same thing. A burly Arab passed an iron skewer through
the upper part of his nose and transfixed the skin of his face below the
eyes. He rushed apparently towards us. Two or three powerful men knocked
him down, and held him till the sheikh laid his hands on him and
whispered some mysterious formula in his ear. Another man in quick
succession swallowed more than twenty large iron nails, there being no
mistake whatever as to his really doing so. A large bottle was broken up
and eagerly devoured. The frenzy then became general. While one Aïssaouí
plunged a knife through his cheek, another transfixed his shoulder-
blades with a prong, and a third pierced his hand. A brazier of cinders
was speedily emptied. Twenty different tortures were now going on in
twenty different parts of the hall. Three large bushes of the thorny
Indian fig or prickly-pear were eaten up in almost as many minutes; and
at last, before we had time to prevent it, a living sheep was thrown
into the midst of the maddened Aïssaouia: it was in a trice torn into
shreds by eager hands, and still more eager mouths, and its still
quivering and bleeding flesh gnawed to the bones with apparent relish.
We left the college of Sidi Aïssa as quickly as we could, and the orgies
waxed more furious and more horrible in our absence. I believe that the
disciples of Sidi Aïssa at Kairwán number nearly one thousand, but only
about fifty are fully initiated into the performance of the rites; and
these all assume the distinctive cries and habits of some animal. The
rest are merely honorary members, but are bound to support the common
brotherhood.
The Zaouia Sidi Bou Aïssa is the last of the public buildings of Kairwán
which needs description. The institution it represents is certainly not
one of the least curious features of the conquered city. The inhabitants
themselves seem almost stupefied by the fate which has overtaken them.
Many of them asked me what England said of their misfortunes. “Tell us,”
they said, “what your Queen will say to our brothers in India when they
know that the sanctity of our mosques and our holy places has been
violated.” It was useless to explain that our Ministers had been
deceived. The Moslems of Kairwán, even in their hour of agony, still
trust to God, the Sultan, _and_ England. There is one word in every
one’s mouth—Tripoli. One of the chief men of the place spoke thus:
“Between our Bey and the French we have little to choose. Muhammed es
Sadek’s recent conduct has rendered him an unbeliever, and one
unbeliever is as bad as another; but we never forget our allegiance to
the Sultan and Caliph: if he does his duty by us, we shall be faithful
to him.” The action of the Sultan is watched with far more anxiety in
North Africa than people in Constantinople either know or suspect. The
Arabs feel that their very existence is now in peril. If the Sultan
declines to protect that faith of which he is the head, the Moslems will
find a chief and Caliph who will.
The Arabs who a month ago surrounded Kairwán are now on the very
frontiers of Tripoli. Into that country they will ultimately retreat.
Will the Sultan’s troops force back at the point of the bayonet from the
Regency of Tripoli their co-religionists, whose only crime has been to
defend from invasion the Regency of Tunis? Will the French follow their
swiftfooted foes across the boundary-line? Will Mr. Gladstone ask
England to believe in sober seriousness that the Tripolitans have
afforded good ground for French aggression, after the manner of his
assurances about the Khamírs six months ago? Will the so-called European
concert allow the absorption of Tripoli as well as Tunis into the colony
of Algeria? These important questions will soon have to be answered. The
Moslems of Africa await with impatience the verdict of Europe. The fall
and occupation of Kairwán have raised a momentous issue. The interest
excited by this old world city in the minds of the annalist and the
archæologist is undoubtedly great, for within its walls a mine of
unexplored wealth awaits them both; but, for the moment, this interest
is completely eclipsed by that centred in the very grave political
questions which must naturally arise from the presence of a hostile
Christian force in what was once “the camp and ramparts of Islam.”