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Title: The life of Abdel Kader, ex-sultan of the Arabs of Algeria
Author: Charles Henry Churchill
Release date: November 3, 2025 [eBook #77174]
Language: English
Original publication: London: Chapman and Hall, 1867
Credits: Galo Flordelis (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/University of California Libraries)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF ABDEL KADER, EX-SULTAN OF THE ARABS OF ALGERIA ***
LIFE OF ABDEL KADER.
[Illustration]
THE
LIFE OF ABDEL KADER,
Ex-Sultan of the Arabs of Algeria;
WRITTEN FROM HIS OWN DICTATION, AND COMPILED
FROM OTHER AUTHENTIC SOURCES.
BY
COLONEL CHURCHILL,
AUTHOR OF “TEN YEARS’ RESIDENCE IN MOUNT LEBANON,” “DRUZES AND
MARONITES UNDER TURKISH RULE,” ETC., ETC.
LONDON:
CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY.
1867.
LONDON:
VIRTUE AND CO., PRINTERS,
CITY ROAD.
DEDICATION.
* * * * *
TO
NAPOLEON III.,
EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH.
SIRE,
OTHERS may claim for themselves the glorious privilege of recording
the courage, the sagacity, and the skill with which you wield the
destinies of Imperial France.
I have claimed, and am proud to have procured at your hands, the humbler
but scarcely less glorious privilege of dedicating to you a work which,
while it celebrates the great actions, and portrays the magnanimous
character of one of the most remarkable men whom the Arab race has ever
produced, records at the same time, though feebly and inadequately, the
loftiness of principle, the chivalry of sentiment, and the sensitive
jealousy of French honour which induced you to release him,
spontaneously and unconditionally, from treacherous detention on French
soil.
That act was a worthy inauguration of your splendid reign. That act
alone would suffice to give it imperishable lustre.
CHARLES HENRY CHURCHILL.
PREFACE.
* * * * *
If I should unfortunately be mistaken in the belief and expectation that
some interest may yet be excited in the public mind by a narrative of
the deeds and exploits of the illustrious Arab whose extraordinary
career I have selected as my theme, I shall willingly impute my
disappointment, not to any want of judgment and discrimination on the
part of the reading public, but to my own involuntary and sincere
enthusiasm for all that is grand, ennobling, and romantic.
That these characteristics attach largely, and in their most inspiring
and soul-stirring sense, to the life I here depict, the following pages
amply corroborate.
Having thus exhibited the feeling which induced me to approach a
subject, to me fraught with peculiar and almost irresistible
attractions, I proceed to state the circumstances under which my present
work was commenced and matured.
I was at Constantinople in the month of September, 1853. Abdel Kader was
living, an exile, at Broussa. To have been within such an easy distance
of one who had for so many years been invested in my mind with all the
attributes of heroic greatness, without gratifying myself with a sight
of his person, would have been doing treason to my warmest and most
deeply cherished feelings.
I went accordingly and saw him. The acquaintance thus formed has been,
through a course of wholly unexpected events, gradually cemented into
permanent and unalterable friendship. In 1855 he came to Syria, his
place of exile having been changed from Broussa to Damascus. On his way
to the latter, from Beyrout, he passed a short time with me in the
Lebanon.
Our long conversations turned almost exclusively on his proceedings in
Algeria—his campaigns, his mode of administration, his plans of reform,
and his principles of government. He expatiated on all these topics not
only without reserve, but with exuberance. The stirring recital,
delivered at times in a tone of martial energy and enthusiasm, at others
with an air of melancholy which touchingly told of glowing hopes cruelly
frustrated, of lofty and patriotic inspirations rudely crushed, was more
than simply interesting and exciting. It had the grandeur and sublimity
of a tragic epos.
What, I thought to myself, shall all this wealth of incident, these
marvels of adventure, these varieties of good, and great, and glorious
deeds be suffered to become “alms for oblivion,”[1] without even a
feeble attempt at rescue? Shall no one ever have an opportunity afforded
him of being urged to greater self-discipline, to the attainment of more
mental hardihood, to the practice of more severe abnegation, by having
placed before him the record of a life marked and distinguished by such
absorbing devotion to a sense of duty, such fixity and concentration of
purpose, such unflinching and indomitable perseverance?
Filled with these reflections, I one morning asked Abdel Kader if he had
never kept any written memorial of the transactions in which he had been
engaged. He smiled, and said, “I was far too much and constantly
occupied for that. I did my duty. That was quite occupation enough for
me.” “But,” I added, “if I were to endeavour to draw up an account of
your various doings, would you assist me?” “With the greatest pleasure,”
was his reply; “I will gladly answer any questions you may wish to put
me.” That day I resolved to write the biography of Abdel Kader.
I resided at Damascus during the winter of 1859-60, expressly for the
purpose of carrying my resolution into effect. Abdel Kader, though a
perfect miser of his time, courteously consented to give me an audience
of one hour every day. The mine was before me. I had to extract the ore.
I laboured at it for five months. Some French works assisted me in my
course of inquiry, such as “Annales Algériennes,” by M. Pellissier de
Reynaud; “Histoire de la Conquête d’Alger,” by M. Alfred Nottement, and
others of less note. At a later period I also profited by a publication
more exclusively devoted to my subject, entitled “Abdel Kader, sa vie
Politique et Militaire,” by M. Bellemare.
Abdel Kader was most ample in his remarks and commentaries on these
authors. He thus supplied me with many useful rectifications, as well as
a vast amount of valuable and important original information from
himself.
Little did I contemplate, on leaving Damascus in the spring of 1860,
that another chapter was so soon about to be added to his strange and
eventful history; or that his glorious star, apparently for ever set,
was destined shortly to burst forth again with meteoric splendour. Of
his magnanimous and exemplary conduct during the fearful massacre of the
Christians in that city, through the shameless and heartless complicity
of the Turkish authorities, I obtained the most extensive and correct
details from eye-witnesses.
Such, then, were my materials. It remained for me to compile and embody
them. I have done so. With all diffidence and humility I invite my
readers to pronounce their verdict on the performance.
CONTENTS.
* * * * *
PAGE.
CHAPTER I.—1807-1828 1
CHAPTER II.—1830-1832 14
CHAPTER III.—1833 30
CHAPTER IV.—1833 43
CHAPTER V.—1834 57
CHAPTER VI.—1835 72
CHAPTER VII.—1836 84
CHAPTER VIII.—1837 97
CHAPTER IX.—1838 109
CHAPTER X.—1838 122
CHAPTER XI.—1838-1839 139
CHAPTER XII.—1839 153
CHAPTER XIII.—1839 167
CHAPTER XIV.—1839-1840 181
CHAPTER XV.—1841-1842 194
CHAPTER XVI.—1841-1842 206
CHAPTER XVII.—1843 219
CHAPTER XVIII.—1844-1845 231
CHAPTER XIX.—1845-1847 245
CHAPTER XX.—1847 259
CHAPTER XXI.—1847-1848 271
CHAPTER XXII.—1848-1853 287
CHAPTER XXIII.—1853-1860 301
CHAPTER XXIV—1860-1864 319
LETTER OF ABDEL KADER TO THE AUTHOR.
* * * * *
[TRANSLATION.]
PRAISE BE TO GOD ALONE!
To the amiable, the honourable, the all-accomplished and virtuous
Colonel Churchill.
After offering you our salutations, and inquiring after your noble
pleasure, we have to acknowledge your valued letter, showing your high
regard for us.
May God recompense you with His highest rewards, and make your portion
exceedingly rich and full in everlasting felicity.
We have now to state that we were hindered from replying to you sooner
by an illness, which prevented us even for several days from going to
the house of prayer. But now it is the most imperative of our imperative
duties to thank you, in reply, for your great kindness. We never cease
inquiring about all that may concern, or be connected with your
Excellency; and we pray God to smooth and prosper our affairs in common,
and to establish us in all rectitude and good works. With best wishes
for your peace and happiness,
ABDEL KADER IBN MEHI-ED-DEEN.
_1 Jumadi_, 1273.
_25th December_, 1856.
LIFE OF ABDEL KADER.
* * * * *
CHAPTER I.
1807-1828.
Abdel Kader Nusr-ed-deen, fourth son of Abdel Kader Mehi-ed-deen, was
born in the month of May, 1807, at the paternal _ketna_, or family
village, on the banks of the river Hammam. This locality lies in the
district of Eghrees, appertaining to the province of Oran, in Algeria.
From his infancy Abdel Kader was the especial object of his father’s
fondest affections. Even when at the breast, the doting parent would
constantly insist on taking the child in his arms; and he reluctantly
permitted anyone but himself to do the duties of a nurse. Some secret
and undefined impulse, as it seemed, impelled him to devote more than
ordinary care and attention to the child, whose future career was to be
so indelibly and gloriously associated with his country’s weal.
The physical constitution of the boy early exhibited a robust
development; whilst, by a strange contrast, his disposition displayed a
great natural timidity. The term “frightened at a shadow,” might have
been taken in its most literal sense in his case. In after years, and
when in the pride and vigour of manhood, he shone forth as the bravest
of the brave—ever foremost to lead the charge, or cover the retreat—his
father would often rally him on his boyish frailty, and wonder at the
extraordinary contrast.
The mental powers of the boy were more than usually precocious. At the
age of five he could read and write; at twelve he was a Taleb, or an
approved proficient in the Koran, the Hadeeth (traditional sayings of
the prophet Mohammed), and all the most esteemed religious expositions.
Two years later he attained the highly-prized distinction of being a
Hafiz, or one who knows the entire Koran by heart. In this position he
had a class in the family mosque, where he explained the most difficult
and recondite passages of the commentators. The extent of his youthful
ambition was to be a great Marabout, like his father, whom he loved and
regarded with an enthusiasm amounting to adoration.
In his seventeenth year the youth was conspicuous amongst his associates
for his remarkable strength and agility. The perfect symmetry and
compactness of his figure—his height being about five feet six
inches—his bony make, his broad, deep chest, all betokened a frame
formed for untiring activity, and capable of enduring the utmost
fatigue.
As an equestrian, none approached him. Not only was he a graceful rider,
but his marvellous superiority in all those feats of horsemanship which
require the nicest eye, the steadiest hand, and the greatest efforts of
muscular power, was the theme of all who knew him. Touching his horse’s
shoulder with his breast, he would place one hand on its back, and vault
over to the other side; or, putting the animal to its full speed, he
would disengage his feet from the stirrups, stand up in the saddle, and
fire at a mark with the utmost precision. Under his light and skilful
touch, his well-trained Arab would kneel down, or walk for yards on his
hind legs, its fore ones pawing the air, or spring and jump like a
gazelle.
But it was on the race-course that the youth more particularly shone.
That exciting pastime, into which the Algerian nobles enter with a
passion not exceeded by our most devoted amateurs of the turf, was his
peculiar element. Mounted on a jet-black steed—a colour he especially
affected, as generally accompanied by superior equine qualities, and as
throwing into relief the whiteness of his burnous—he was the cynosure of
every eye.
His apparel was plain and simple. His arms alone displayed ornament. His
long Tunisian musket was inlaid with silver; his pistols were encrusted
with mother-of-pearl and coral; and his Damascus blade encased in a
sheath of silver gilt. These brilliant appurtenances, combined with the
partial gifts which Nature had lavished on his person, threw an
inexpressible charm around his appearance.
His countenance, of the purest classic mould, was singularly attractive
from its expressive and yet almost feminine beauty. His nose—middling-
sized and delicately shaped—a pleasing mean between the Grecian and the
Roman type; his lips, finely chiseled and slightly compressed, bespoke
dignified reserve and firmness of purpose; while large, lustrous hazel
eyes beamed from beneath a massive forehead of marble whiteness with
subdued and melancholy softness, or flashed with the rays of genius and
intelligence.
Once the race engaged, his whole hearing and demeanour exhibited the
most perfect coolness and self-possession. Distancing his numerous
competitors, he would often reach the goal alone, amidst shouts of
applause, clapping of hands, and the exhilarating shouts of hundreds of
female voices bursting out into the _zulagheel_—that shrill and piercing
cry of joy and welcome amongst the Arabs, which is so cheering to the
triumphant warrior.
Thus, when at a later period of his life he performed those marvellous
courses which astonished and confounded his enemies—never sleeping for
weeks together under cover, and rarely ungirdling his sword—it was truly
said of him that “his saddle was his throne.”
In Algeria, the nobility is divided into two distinct classes—the
Marabouts and the Djouads. The former derive their position from
religion; the other from the sword. These respective representatives of
moral influence and physical strength regard each other with mutual
scorn and jealousy. The Djouads accuse the Marabouts of ill-disguised
ambition, and of a greedy covetousness after wealth and power, veiled
under the specious pretext that every fresh acquisition they make was
solely for the service of religion. The Marabouts taunt the Djouads with
their violence, licentiousness, and love of rapine.
The Djied devotes himself entirely to the chase. He delights in all the
bracing recreations which call forth skill and courage. His pride is to
excel in falconry, in hunting the gazelle, the ostrich, the panther, and
the wild boar. These violent pursuits, the thrilling excitement of which
calls forth all the energies of body and mind, prepare him for the more
serious encounters of war. The chase is the school for the razzia.
Abdel Kader, although he certainly never contemplated the possibility of
ever being engaged in a razzia, and altogether repudiated such a mode of
warfare (based as it generally was on the mere love of plunder), as
equally contrary to his principles and his inclination, yet engaged
ardently in field sports. His favourite diversion was to hunt the wild
boar. Carefully avoiding the ostentatious display of the Djouads, as
they sallied forth with their long train of adherents, their falcons,
and their greyhounds, he privately mounted his horse, and taking only
two or three domestics, plunged into the depths of the forest. On his
return from his sporting excursions, he betook himself to his studies
with renewed ardour.
It is not surprising that one so highly gifted by nature, and so earnest
in the task of self-culture and improvement, should have gradually
obtained a considerable ascendancy over all around him. Abdel Kader,
indeed, already shared the unbounded respect, confidence, and affection
which the Arabs of Oran had so long extended to his father. The latter,
overjoyed to see his fondest hopes thus realised, could not perform a
duty, or enjoy a social pleasure, without the presence of his favourite
son. In his public audiences, his plans and projects, his lesser
journeyings, or his more distant visits to the Turkish beys in the town,
and the Arab tribes in the Tell or Sahara, Abdel Kader was his unfailing
confidant and companion.
According to Moslem usage, and the law of the Koran, Abdel Kader married
young. “Marry young,” says the Prophet, “marriage subdues the man’s look
and regulates the maiden’s conduct.” At that period of life when the
passions first agitate the breast, Abdel Kader was, in an especial
manner, the object of his father’s solicitude. Faithful and trustworthy
servants accompanied him wherever he went. He was never allowed to be
alone. Temptations were thus avoided which might have endangered the
purity of his morals. At the age of fifteen he married his cousin, Leila
Heira, who was alike remarkable for her beauty and her moral
attractions.
The time at length arrived when Mehi-ed-deen, now in his fiftieth year,
felt it his duty to perform a pilgrimage to Mecca. Large preparations
were made for the solemn event. Many were the entreaties on the part of
his sons and retainers to be allowed the boon of sharing the dangers and
the honours of the journey. None could endure the thought of being left
behind. Mehi-ed-deen, embarrassed by such applications, declared his
intention of going alone. The next day an exception was made in favour
of Abdel Kader. All, though with mournful hearts, were obliged to submit
to the final mandate; and father and son left the ketna, in October,
1823.
The rumour of Mehi-ed-deen’s movement soon spread through the province
of Oran. Suddenly, a sympathetic impulse seemed to inspire the Arabs in
all directions. All remembered they had a pilgrimage to perform. “To
Mecca, to Mecca!” resounded on every side. Parties were made, mules
procured, tents prepared.
On his first day’s halt, Mehi-ed-deen saw his place of encampment
invaded by hundreds of Arabs claiming the privilege of joining him on
his pious errand. On the second day they increased to thousands. On the
fourth, a sea of tents surged around him. Gentle remonstrance and stern
refusal were equally unavailing. Mehi-ed-deen was their Marabout, their
chief, their saint, and doubly blessed would those be who under such
auspices should kiss the Holy Shrine. On the sixth evening the vast
pilgrimage had assembled on the banks of the Ejdowia, in the valley of
the Cheliff.
At dead of night a Turkish horseman rode up at full gallop, and
dismounted at the tent of Mehi-ed-deen. He was the bearer of a dispatch
from Hussein Bey, the governor of Oran. The missive was hastily opened
by Abdel Kader, and found to contain a courteous summons to his father
to repair to that seat of government. Before daybreak Mehi-ed-deen had
finished his arrangements for a return to Oran, in obedience to his
chief’s commands.
Great was the consternation which seized the Arabs when the news of this
unexpected summons got abroad; not only were all their hopes damped and
frustrated, but their liveliest fears were awakened for their beloved
leader. Numbers thronged around him. Some clung to his person, others
seized his horse; others again flung themselves despairingly across the
horse’s path—all entreating and imploring him not to heed the message.
To all these ardent demonstrations of attachment Mehi-ed-deen, with that
sense of loyalty which never forsook him, calmly replied, “My children,
it is my duty to obey, and I go, though it cost me my head.”
Having thus spoken, and bidden the friends around him farewell, he took
his course with Abdel Kader to the spot to which he was summoned.
The reception given them by Hussein Bey was apparently frank and
cordial. Addressing himself to Mehi-ed-deen, he said, “You know, my
friend, how high you stand in my favour and esteem. Deeply has it
grieved me to hear the malicious reports which have been spread about
you. Your enemies are numerous. I dreaded lest you should fall into the
hands of the Dey of Algiers, whose territory you have just entered in a
way which, I know, has excited his suspicions. I sent for you, to save
you from impending danger. My heart was filled with anxiety on your
account.”
“And it was to save you anxiety,” mildly and sarcastically replied Mehi-
ed-deen, “that I obeyed your summons.”
There is no doubt, in fact, that Hussein Bey was himself actuated by
those very feelings of jealousy and suspicion which he had described as
peculiar to his colleague at Algiers. The strange and unusual gathering
of the Arabs around Mehi-ed-deen had alarmed him. He knew and hated the
great Marabout’s popularity. He dreaded lest it might one day raise him
into the position of a rival power. Any overt acts of hostility against
the man he feared, he was well aware, were dangerous, if not fruitless.
But now he had succeeded, under the garb of friendship, in getting this
very man into his power. His subsequent proceedings soon revealed his
real intentions. Scarcely had Mehi-ed-deen and Abdel Kader gone to their
lodgings ere a Turkish guard was placed over them. Wherever they went
they were escorted by soldiers. Soldiers entered with them into the
houses of their friends. Soldiers stood by them in the mosque. They were
prisoners of state.
This irksome position of things continued with unabated rigour for two
years. Mehi-ed-deen never made a remonstrance. Profiting by their forced
seclusion, he and Abdel Kader ardently pursued their favourite studies.
They awaited with stoic resignation the issue of their tyrant’s caprice.
At last Hussein Bey, awakened to the folly of his fears, sent for Mehi-
ed-deen and gave him permission to resume his pilgrimage.
Resolving not to return to the ketna, even to bid adieu once more to his
family, lest such steps should produce a similar manifestation to that
which had previously caused them so much embarrassment, Mehi-ed-deen and
Abdel Kader left Oran with the greatest privacy, in November, 1825.
Passing through Medea and Constantine, they reached Tunis, where they
joined a company of 2,000 pilgrims who were awaiting a favourable
occasion to proceed by sea to Alexandria. The whole party shortly
afterwards embarked in a vessel bound for that port. But they were
overtaken by a violent storm, and were obliged to put back. A more
prosperous result attended their next essay; and after beating about for
a fortnight they reached their destination.
After stopping a few days at Alexandria, Mehi-ed-deen and Abdel Kader
went on to Cairo, and pitched their tents near the town. Here for the
first and only time Abdel Kader saw Mohammed Ali. Little did the
youthful pilgrim imagine, while gazing on that successful soldier, that
he himself was already destined to outrival him, before many more years
had past, in military prowess, in administrative ability, and in deeds
of wide-world renown.
The usual route to Mecca, by Suez and Djedda, was performed without any
incident worthy of notice. Having performed their devotions at the
Caaba, Mehi-ed-deen and Abdel Kader separated from their companions and
went to Damascus. In that city they remained for some months. They there
made the acquaintance of the principal Ulemahs, and spent most of their
time in the great mosque, engaged in religious readings.
They now set out on another pilgrimage, scarcely less sacred in their
eyes than the one to Mecca,—that to the tomb of the famous Abdel Kader
il Djellali, the patron saint of Algeria. They reached Bagdad in thirty
days, by the Palmyra route. Belonging as they did to a family well known
for the costly presents which many of its members had laid upon the
sacred tomb, they received a most hospitable reception from the cadi of
the city, Mohammed il Zachariah, who was himself a descendant of the
great saint. Mehi-ed-deen contributed a bag full of gold. To doubt the
miraculous powers of Abdel Kader il Djellali would have been as great a
sin in the eyes of the Marabout as to have doubted the apostolic
mission.
His father Mustapha had thrice performed the pilgrimage to Bagdad, and
had at each time been favoured with peculiar manifestations. Once when
returning, and while yet eight days from Damascus, he got separated from
the caravan and lost his way. Bewildered and benighted, he found himself
alone in the desert. Suddenly a negro appeared by his side, and offered
to conduct him to the city. At break of day he saw the minarets. The
muezzin’s call to prayer struck upon his ears. In a few hours, time and
space had been annihilated.
At another time, when at Cairo, he was desirous of buying a book, but he
had no money for the purchase. A stranger all at once advanced towards
him, placed some coins in his hand, and disappeared. Such, according to
the belief of Mehi-ed-deen, were the rewards of a firm and unshaken
faith in Abdel Kader il Djellali.
This Moslem saint flourished in the twelfth century. There are cenotaphs
to his memory all over the East. In Algeria the operations of the
physical world are believed to be under his control. No journey is ever
undertaken without prayers for his protection; none are terminated
without a festival in his honour. The Arabs attribute the success and
good fortune of Abdel Kader to the patronage of his mighty namesake. But
whenever Abdel Kader was questioned as to his own belief in such a
superstition, he invariably replied, with finger pointed up to heaven,
“My trust was in God alone.”
Many stories have been circulated about mysterious indications given to
Abdel Kader, while at Bagdad, of his future greatness. They are all
without foundation. It is true Mehi-ed-deen had a dream. An angelic
being appeared to him, and putting a key into his hand, told him to
hasten back to Oran. On demanding what he was to do with the key, the
spirit replied to him, “God will direct you.” The dream made an
impression at the time on the two pilgrims, for it was noted down, and
long remembered; but it only excited curiosity, without fostering
delusion.
After spending three months at Bagdad, father and son returned to Mecca.
Their funds were exhausted. For the remainder of their journey, they
depended on the resources of their fellow-travellers, pilgrims like
themselves, who were going back to Algeria. They took the land route the
entire way, and reached home early in 1828, after an absence of more
than two years.
Great were the rejoicings which celebrated their safe arrival at the
ketna. The first and most prominent in the round of festivities was a
great banquet in honour of Abdel Kader il Djellali. Fifteen oxen and
eighty sheep were sacrificed. Guests of every rank and class hourly
arrived from all parts, spontaneously and uninvited. Some were superbly
mounted and splendidly attired, followed by trains of slaves and
domestics; others of the middle classes came riding on mules and
donkeys, whilst hundreds of the lower orders kept pouring in, eagerly
anticipating the princely fare of their revered Marabout.
Mehi-ed-deen, whose hospitality was proverbial, would hear of no limits
to this costly profusion; and thus week after week rolled on, and still
fresh guests were perpetually arriving to swell the general tide of
festivity. Nor was it till nearly all the Arabs of the province of Oran,
and numerous deputations from the tribes of the Sahara, had paid their
tribute of homage and congratulation to the respected chief of the
Hashem, that the Wady Hammam resumed its wonted aspect of quiet and
repose.
Abdel Kader was now once more a peaceful dweller at the paternal ketna.
He made a vow of religious seclusion. No visions of human greatness rose
before him. No worldly aspirations agitated his breast. He scorned the
allurements of ambition. His whole time was given up to close and
unremitting study. No cloistered monk ever shunned more carefully all
contact with his fellow-men. From sunrise to sunset he rarely left his
room. His only interruptions were his meals and the sacred intervals of
prayer.
The works of Plato, Pythagoras, Aristotle, treatises by the most famous
authors of the Arabian Caliphates, on ancient and modern history,
philosophy, philology, astronomy, geography, and even works on medicine,
were eagerly perused by the enthusiastic student. His library
accumulated. The master-spirits were around him. He would not have
exchanged his communion with them for all the thrones in the universe.
But a change was about to come.
The mysterious power which regulates the human will, and makes every
mortal career subservient to its all-wise, all-comprehensive and
resistless fiat, was exercising its invisible influence. Abdel Kader had
renounced the world. He was ere long to appear one of its foremost
actors. He hated battle—yet was he soon to shine mightiest in the
battle’s front.
CHAPTER II.
1830-1832.
The taking of Algiers by the French in 1830 did not at first inspire the
Arabs with any unusual feelings of dread or anxiety. The Franks had
often descended on their coasts, and even occupied some of their
maritime towns. The standards of Spain and England had waved
triumphantly on the ramparts of Oran and Tangiers. Bona and Algiers had
been compelled at different times to yield a sullen deference to the
requirements of European civilisation; but the military occupation and
the political pressure had alike ceased. Thus the Arabs had never as yet
seen any reason to regard a hostile incursion on their soil, by the
Franks, as pregnant with danger to their national existence.
The proceedings of the French, however, in Algeria, soon convinced them
that the presence of these invaders was no ordinary visitation. General
Bourmont, indeed, from the outset, declared in a public proclamation,
that France took possession, not only of the town of Algiers, but of the
whole Regency. This announcement, closely followed as it was by the
exile of the Dey, the removal of every trace and vestige of Turkish
power, the deportation of the Turkish population, the issuing of laws
and ordinances in the name of the King of the French, the enlarging and
beautifying of the town of Algiers, the seizure of all the towns along
the coast, and the advances of military reconnaissance towards the
Atlas, revealed designs which neither the Arabs of the actual
generation, nor their ancestors, had ever been called upon to
counteract.
Before the French began to move beyond the walls of Algiers, the
disposition of the Arabs towards them had been apparently friendly.
Provisions had been brought in abundantly. Some of their chiefs had made
overtures of submission. The Bey of Tittery had even accepted French
investiture. So promising, indeed, was the aspect of affairs, that the
French fancied they were about to be hailed as deliverers, and
considered that the Arabs, overjoyed at being emancipated from the hated
Turkish yoke, would thankfully accept French domination. The first
movement of the French into the interior rapidly dispelled this pleasing
illusion.
An expedition, commanded by the French general in person, to Blidah, a
town situated at the foot of the Lower Atlas (July 24th, 1830), at once
revealed the rising feeling of the Arabs. Lulled into security by the
apparent heartiness of their reception among the inhabitants of Blidah,
the leading men of which town came out to meet them, the French threw
off their knapsacks, and wandered joyously amidst its delicious gardens.
Suddenly, bands of Arabs and Kabyles rushed down upon them from the
mountains above, and with wild cries commenced a vigorous attack. The
French rapidly collected, bravely held their ground, and the next day
retreated in good order to Algiers.
The Arabs took this temporary advantage as an earnest of future
successes. From that moment, the spirit of defiance and resistance
assumed a decided form. The Marabouts, leading and directing the
national mind, proclaimed the Djehad, or Holy War. The Bey of Tittery,
anxious to atone for his recent defection, wrote to Bourmont, fixing the
day when at the head of 20,000 men, he would drive him and his Frenchmen
into the sea.
On the other hand, French garrisons were quietly being stationed in all
the seaport towns. At Oran, Hussein Bey became anxious to be delivered
from a position which had become dangerous to his person. He was closely
blockaded by the Arabs, burning to revenge themselves on his tyranny.
His Turkish militia was utterly powerless for his defence. The Arabs in
Turkish employ, the _Maghzen_, as they were called, were flying before
the tribes so long oppressed, who now considered that their hour of
retaliation was come.
In this dilemma, Hussein, unwilling to fly, and yet unable to hold his
post, determined on adopting a course which, though humiliating to his
pride, was dictated by the sternest necessity. He sent for Mehi-ed-deen,
and craved his protection. Mehi-ed-deen, astonished at such an
application, and fearing to compromise himself with his own countrymen
by a hasty consent, asked leave to return home to consult the Hashems.
On his arrival at the ketna, he assembled a family council, and called
on each member to give his opinion on the subject. The prevailing
opinion was to the effect that it would be ungenerous to refuse the
Bey’s request. It was true, as was on every hand admitted, that the
injuries done by him to their beloved chief had been wanton and
malicious; but it was urged, that it would be a stain upon Arab
character to refuse an asylum to the fallen.
Abdel Kader spoke. He begged the indulgence of his relatives, and
particularly of his father, if he ventured to differ from them. In the
state of anarchy which now existed in the province of Oran, he argued,
it was by no means certain that they could protect the Bey from the
effects of the universal feelings of hatred and indignation which
prevailed against him. Whatever steps they might take, the Bey would
still run the risk of being insulted, assaulted, perhaps murdered. Who
could avert an outburst of popular fury, or be answerable for its
consequences? In such an event, how great would be the disgrace of those
who had given him a safe-conduct, and had been unable to make it
respected!
“Another and equally important reason,” pursued Abdel Kader, “militates
against the reception of the Bey in our ketna. An asylum given by our
family to that detested representative of Turkish tyranny, would be
looked upon by the Arabs as a kind of tacit forgetfulness of all his
past conduct. Consequently we should make to ourselves enemies of all
the tribes to whom the Bey is obnoxious; in other words, of all the
Arabs of Oran.”
Mehi-ed-deen at once declared himself a convert to his son’s reasoning;
and in this step he was shortly followed by every member of the council.
A messenger was sent to inform the Bey that his request could not be
granted, as Mehi-ed-deen would not become responsible for his safety. On
the 4th of January, 1831, General Damremont entered the port of Oran.
The Bey at once surrendered, and he was allowed to embark for
Alexandria.
The disorder and anarchy which had already broken out in the interior
was now constantly on the increase. The Mohammedans of the sea-coast
towns, who had fled from the French, were roaming about the country with
their families in terror and despair. The Arabs waylaid them, and robbed
them without mercy. Mehi-ed-deen, who had hitherto been a passive
observer of events, felt that the time had now arrived for action. By
his orders Abdel Kader and his brothers, with effective escorts, scoured
the plains in all directions, protecting the unfortunate fugitives,
rescuing many from the hands of the marauders, and conducting all to
places of safety.
But whatever good Mehi-ed-deen effected by this humane and timely
interposition, it was evident that a far more potent arm than his was
requisite to establish anything like a semblance of order and
government. Not only on the plains, but in the towns, strife and
contention were raging unchecked. Party feuds, which had been long
suspended, broke out afresh with redoubled acrimony. The Arabs were
everywhere giving the reins to their innate propensities for unbridled
licence and lawlessness.
Long and anxious were the consultations held by the Marabouts on this
frightful state of affairs. At length, with one accord, they determined
to go to Mehi-ed-deen for counsel. Mehi-ed-deen thus appealed to,
addressed the applicants for his advice in the following terms:—
“For many months, as you all know, I have been trying to preserve some
degree of order amidst the general confusion which prevails; but my
utmost endeavours have only been able to rescue a few of the weak and
unprotected from the brutality of violent men.
“The tyranny of the Turks cramped and crushed our energies; but the
present state of things, if allowed to continue, will destroy them
utterly. The bonds of society are dissolved. Every man’s hand is raised
against his neighbour. Our people, given up to their vile passions, are
daily outraging the laws of God and man. At the same time, the evils
which menace us from without are not less formidable than those which
consume us from within. Shall we call in the French? Impossible. To
submit to them, much more to invite them, would be to betray our duty to
our God, our country, and our faith.
“Yet the French are a warlike nation, strong in numbers, abounding in
riches, and burning with a love of conquest. And what have we to oppose
to them? Tribes at variance with each other; designing and rapacious
chiefs striving for personal aggrandisement; a commonalty which has
thrown off all restraint, some enriching themselves by plunder, others
precariously holding their own. The parties are too unequal. With such
materials, to imagine even a successful struggle with the infidel would
be folly, to attempt it, madness.
“No. The French king, powerful as he is, can only be effectually opposed
by a king like himself at the head of a well-regulated state, disposing
of a well-filled treasury, commanding a disciplined army. Nor need we go
far to find such a one. The Sultan of Morocco already sympathises with
us. He must know full well that the external danger which threatens us
may ultimately menace him. His presence amongst us will at once
encourage and embolden the good, and awe the wicked. Order will be
enforced. Fighting under him, we shall march to assured victory; for his
standards are the standards of God and the Prophet.”
A few days afterwards, an embassy, comprising ten of the most
influential Marabouts and Sheiks, with an escort of fifty horsemen, and
mules laden with presents, took its departure for Fez. Sultan Abderahman
received the embassy with every appearance of cordiality, and promised
to consider its demands. Six months elapsed without any reply. At last
the Arab chiefs were sent for. Movements in the palace, and the
assemblage of the troops, showed that the petition of the Arabs of
Algeria had been granted. In six weeks, the Sultan’s son Ali, at the
head of 5,000 cavalry and two parks of artillery, established his
headquarters at Tlemsen, in the province of Oran.
Mehi-ed-deen and Abdel Kader, with all the chiefs of the Hashem, chiefs
from the Beni Mejaher, the Beni Amer, and other tribes, hastened to pay
their homage to the son and representative of their new Sultan. His
authority was speedily recognised in all parts of the regency. The
_khotba_, or public prayer for the Mohammedan Sultan, was pronounced in
all the mosques for the Sultan of Morocco. Everything conspired to
confirm the belief that Algeria had peaceably passed under the Moorish
sceptre. But the French Government, seasonably apprised of these newly-
formed relations between the Arabs and the Sultan Abderahman, at once
sent the latter an ultimatum of immediate withdrawal from Algeria, or
war.
Abderahman, compelled to choose one or other of these alternatives, and
being totally unprepared to commence hostilities, immediately sent
orders to his son to return. In a few days, although the Moors had been
warmly welcomed, even in the provinces of Tittery and Constantine, not
one was to be seen in the whole country. The Marabouts and chiefs now
resolved to offer the dignity of Sultan to Mehi-ed-deen, and went in a
body for that purpose to the ketna. He modestly declined the offer; but
at the same time he recommended a second appeal to Morocco.
Another embassy was accordingly sent to Fez, to implore the Moorish
Sultan to lend his name, at least, if he could not give material aid and
assistance, to the movement which was being made in his favour. Unable
to act overtly, yet hoping to profit by events, Abderahman so far
complied with their request, that he sent a confidential agent to
Mascara. This clandestine proceeding, however, produced no effect. The
Arabs scorned a power which dared not openly display itself; and in a
short time the Moorish agent was withdrawn.
Again all eyes were turned to Mehi-ed-deen. Again the Arabs entreated
him to be their Sultan. “No,” he replied. “I am not adequate to perform
the duties of such a post; but what religion imposes upon me, that will
I do. I will go with you to the Djehad.” The Arabs had for some time
been making approaches to Oran, now strongly occupied by the French.
Abdel Kader had taken the field, and his father served under him.
The Arabs had recently been attacking Fort Philip, a strong citadel to
the south of the town. Abdel Kader had both proposed and superintended
the operation. Conspicuous in a scarlet burnous, he led on a mixed body
of cavalry and infantry to the very walls of the fort. Ordering the
latter to descend into the ditch and keep up a constant fire on the
ramparts, he placed the former in such a position as to be ready to
resist any sortie which might be made from the place. The fire of shot
and shell which the French opened on the Arabs was such as might have
staggered the best disciplined troops. But Abdel Kader, careering to and
fro, and cheering his comrades by his voice and gestures, kept them
together, and taught them to despise the tremendous missiles which were
so wont to fill them with terror and amazement.
Word was sent him that the Arabs he had placed in the ditch had expended
their ammunition, and that no one would expose himself to supply them.
“Cowards!” he exclaimed, “give me the cartridges.” Wrapping them up in
the folds of his burnous, he dashed singly across the plain, rode up to
the fort, threw them into the ditch, and urging his men to be firm and
go on with their work, returned, to the surprise of all, without being
touched.
On this and many similar occasions of peril and enterprise, in which he
fleshed his maiden sword, Abdel Kader’s courage and bravery drew forth
not only praises, but rapturous admiration. The Arabs began to look with
superstitious reverence on one, who as with a charmed life, rode
fearlessly and harmlessly wherever danger menaced; now breaking through
the line of the enemy’s skirmishers; now charging up to a square, and
sweeping the bayonets with his sabre; now standing unmoved and pointing
contemptuously at the cannon balls as they whizzed by his head, or at
the shells as they exploded at his feet.
Nevertheless, however confident the Arabs might feel in their young
chief, however they might acknowledge that in him a master-spirit had
arisen to conduct them in their struggle against the infidels, they felt
that this desultory mode of attack was not war. They saw full well that
without a responsible head to organise, to raise revenues by regular
imposts, to husband resources, and to form and carry out a clearly
defined plan of campaign, all their efforts would be abortive, all their
sacrifices useless. At a grand meeting held at Mascara, these topics
were earnestly discussed.
Mehi-ed-deen, who was enjoying a short repose at the ketna, was invited
to attend. Scarcely had he arrived and dismounted, when an excited
throng surrounded him. A tumult of voices was raised. On all sides he
was thus apostrophised,—“How long, O Mehi-ed-deen, are we to be left
without a leader? How long will you remain a callous spectator of our
distractions; you, whose name alone would suffice to rally all hearts,
to encourage the desponding, to curb the malignant, to give strength and
cohesion to the common cause? Already many of our bravest have fallen
off in weariness and disgust. Who, they say, is to repair our losses, to
replace our horses killed, our arms broken and useless? You, O Mehi-ed-
deen, are answerable for all this.” Then, placing their swords at his
breast, the chiefs exclaimed:—“Choose between being our Sultan or
instant death.”
Mehi-ed-deen, violently agitated, but still preserving his presence of
mind, demanded to be heard. “You all know,” he said, “that I am a man of
peace, devoting myself to the worship of God. The task of ruling
involves the use of brute force and the shedding of blood. But since you
insist on my being your Sultan, I consent; and abdicate in favour of my
son, Abdel Kader.”
This sudden and unexpected solution of the question was received with
loud acclamations of approval. The name of Abdel Kader was repeated with
enthusiasm. The character, the personal appearance, the manly bearing,
the tried gallantry of the favourite son of Mehi-ed-deen, became the
general topic of discourse. A horseman was forthwith despatched to bring
him from the ketna.
Early on the next morning, November 21st, 1832, Abdel Kader entered
Mascara. All the streets and avenues leading to the town were thronged.
Men, women, and children vied with each other in joyful demonstrations
of welcome to their future Sultan. Ushered into the large court where
the council was assembled, Abdel Kader was informed of all that had
passed. Calm, self-collected, and unelated, he simply said, “It is my
duty to obey the commands of my father.” A burst of applause followed
this simple avowal of filial obedience and patriotic devotion.
Placed in an antique chair of state, which had formerly belonged to some
Spanish grandee, and which had been dragged forth from its musty recess
for the occasion, the young Sultan, of twenty-five years of age,
received the allegiance of the nobles and chiefs congregated around him.
Loud shouts of “Long life and victory to our Sultan, Abdel Kader!” burst
from the whole assembly. They were caught up and reiterated by the
people from without, and thus heralded the inauguration of an Arabian
Caliphate.
In the afternoon Abdel Kader went to the Mosque, which was already
crowded to suffocation. After performing his devotions, he stood up. A
Koran was put into his hands. He read and expounded. By degrees his
countenance became more animated, his voice more resonant, his manner
more impressive, and his action more emphatic, as, leaving the language
of disquisition, he passed to more noble and exalted themes.
Not for minutes, but for hours, and until the sun had sunk below the
horizon, did the soldier orator pour forth one continued stream of
burning and impassioned eloquence. He expatiated, in heart-rending
tones, on the sins, the iniquities, the crimes, the horrors which
polluted the land. In vivid terms he depicted Heaven’s judgments
overtaking a godless and vice-abandoned people; and now, again, he
conjured up before the minds of his audience, in characters of flame,
the appalling picture of their country ravaged by the infidel, their
domestic hearths violated, their temples desecrated.
The sensation of wonder and astonishment which had at first filled the
breasts of his hearers, now rapidly changed into conscience-stricken
feelings of shame, contrition, and remorse. But when, with outstretched
arm and lightning glance, he called on his countrymen, in words which
glowed with the fire of inspiration, to stand boldly forward in the
sacred cause of God and the Prophet, to rally round the standard of the
“Djehad,” and to emulate the glorious martyrs of the true faith; and
then painted in vivid colours the liberated spirits of the slain
entering the blissful mansions, they sprang to their feet, they shook
their spears, they clashed their swords, they wept aloud, and with
frantic cries yelled out, “Il Djehad! Il Djehad!”
Exulting in his prowess, again and again did the consummate artist
strike the chord, whose vibrations had thrilled every heart and
enkindled every soul, and, as the frenzied voices rose louder and louder
around him, his voice yet surged above them all. Gathering fresh impulse
from the responsive acclamations of his hearers, he swayed to and fro.
He smote his breast. Big drops of sweat suffused his brow. His eyes
glistened and flashed. He flung his hands aloft, as though appealing to
celestial witnesses. At last, so crushing and overpowering became his
excitement, that Reason might have succumbed, had not Nature, by a
copious flood of tears, relieved the fearful tension.
The next day (November 22nd, 1832) Abdel Kader proceeded in state to the
valley of Ersibia, ten minutes’ distance from Mascara. Ten thousand Arab
cavalry were there in waiting to receive and welcome their newly-elected
sovereign. They were arranged, according to their tribes, in one
continuous crescent, around a splendid tent, which had been erected in
the centre of the plain. The entire population of Mascara occupied the
intervening ground.
Just as the sun’s slanting rays peered over the heights of Djebel
Nusmut, lighting up this scene as if by magic brightness, the shrill
cries of the women, the shouts of the men, and incessant crashes of
musketry, announced the approach of the royal cavalcade. First came a
chosen band, escorting the standard of the Djehad. Then followed the
chiefs of the Beni Amer, the Beni Mejaher, the Beni Yacoub, the Beni
Abbas, on their high-mettled steeds, with their brilliant equipments,
and well-burnished arms. Now appeared Abdel Kader—a plain, unornamented,
red burnous flung over his shoulders, riding his favourite black
charger. The chiefs of the Beni Hashem, his own tribe, brought up the
rear of the splendid _cortège_.
Passing on, as quickly as the crowd would permit—for some thronged round
to kiss his hand, some the hem of his burnous, others even his horse’s
feet—Abdel Kader reached the tent and dismounted. For some minutes he
was lost to view. At length Mehi-ed-deen came forth, leading him by the
hand, in order to present him to the people. “Behold the Sultan
announced by prophecy!” he exclaimed. “Behold the son of Zohra! Obey him
as you would have obeyed me. God protect the Sultan!” “Our lives, our
properties, all that we have, are his!” shouted the people. “We will
obey no law but that of our Sultan Abdel Kader.”
“I, in my turn,” replied Abdel Kader, “will know no law but the Koran.
By the precepts of the Koran, and the Koran alone, will I be guided. If
my own brother forfeits his life by the Koran, he shall die.”
Amidst the acclamations which saluted this short but pregnant speech,
Abdel Kader vaulted into his saddle, and, followed by all his chiefs,
swept at full speed along the Arab lines. At intervals he reined up,
briefly ejaculating, “Il Djehad! Il Djehad! Liberty and independence are
only in the Djehad. Paradise is in the shade of sabres. Rally round the
standard of the Djehad!”
The banners waved, the drums and trumpets sent forth their martial
sounds, and the mighty mass, breaking ground, circled round their Sultan
in successive squadrons, and then escorted him back to Mascara. After
snatching a hasty meal, Abdel Kader shut himself up in a small room,
and, summoning his secretaries, dictated the following proclamation:—
“Praise be to God alone, and blessings and salutation from on high on
him,[2] after whom there is no prophet.
“To (such and such a tribe), and in particular to its nobles, sheiks,
notables, and alemahs.
“May God enlighten you, guide and direct your counsels, and give success
to your deeds and actions. The citizens of the districts, Mascara, the
Eastern and Western Gharees, and their neighbours and allies, the Beni
Sokrân, El Borgiés, the Beni Abbas, the Yacoubiés, the Beni Amer, the
Beni Mejaher, and others, have agreed unanimously to appoint me, and
have accordingly appointed me, to the government of our country;
pledging themselves to obey me in success and in distress, in prosperity
and in adversity; and to consecrate their persons, their sons, and their
properties to the great and holy cause.
“We have, therefore, assumed this important charge (though with extreme
reluctance), hoping it may be the means of uniting the great body of
Moslems, of preventing dissensions amongst them, of affording general
security to all dwellers in the land, of checking all acts of
lawlessness on the part of the disorderly against the well-disposed, and
of driving back and overcoming the enemy who has invaded our country
with a view of placing their yoke upon our necks.
“As a condition of our acceptance, we have imposed on those who have
delegated to us the supreme power, the duty of always conforming, in all
their actions, to the holy precepts and teaching of the book of God, and
of administrating justice in their various spheres, according to the law
of the Prophet; loyally and impartially, to the strong and the weak, the
noble and the respectable. This condition has been accepted by them.
“We hereby invite you to be partakers in this pledge, or compact,
between ourselves and them. Hasten, therefore, to make manifest your
allegiance and obedience; and may God prosper you in this world and in
the world to come. My great object is to reform, and to do good as much
as in me lies. My trust is in God; and from Him, and Him only, I expect
reward and success.
“By order of the Defender of Religion, our sovereign lord, the Prince of
the Faithful, Abdel Kader-ibn-Mehi-ed-deen. May God give him the
victory. Amen. Dated from Mascara, November 22, 1832.”
CHAPTER III.
1833.
The appeal thus made by Abdel Kader was variously entertained by the
different tribes to which it was addressed. The religious party was
inclined to give its strenuous support to one who summoned them to fight
for the faith. The men of worldly views and individual ambition looked
with jealousy on such an assumption of sovereignty. Chiefs, who even
under the Turkish rule had struggled to maintain an independent
existence, felt little disposed to accept the mandates of a compeer,
whose claims to an extended sway were in their eyes no better than their
own.
Even in the province of Oran, the imposing circumstances under which
Abdel Kader had been installed, had excited party feelings rather than
disarmed them. Sidi-il-Aribi, a powerful chieftain, whose influence was
supreme over the tribe of the Flittas, in the valley of the Cheliff,
spoke of the new power with undisguised contempt. El Ghomari, chief of
the Beni Engad, held sternly aloof. Noona, who affected to hold Tlemsen
for the Sultan of Morocco, felt it beneath him to give his adhesion.
Mustapha-ibn-Ismail, an old and experienced warrior, grown grey in the
Turkish service as leader of the _Maghzen_, scornfully disdained to kiss
the hands, as he expressed it, of a beardless boy.
As a contrast to these selfish views and circumscribed ambitions, Abdel
Kader presented to his countrymen the one simple and majestic idea of an
Arab nationality. Little as it might be at first comprehended and
appreciated by a race accustomed for centuries to bow their necks to a
foreign yoke, and in whom all principles of patriotism had long been
extinguished, he trusted that amongst the hundreds of tribes which
occupied Algeria there would be some, at least, in whom it would awake a
responsive echo.
On the other hand, though not a fanatic himself, Abdel Kader well knew
the latent fires of fanaticism which slumber in every Moslem breast.
What love of country would not effect, zeal for religion might surely
accomplish. He determined, consequently, to make this latter feeling the
key-stone to the mighty superstructure his genius alone had dared to
imagine. In this unity of design consisted the grandeur of the drama he
proposed to exhibit to the civilised world.
He now issued invitations for a general rendezvous of forces at Mascara,
in the spring of 1833. Many important tribes from the Tell and the
Sahara responded cordially to the summons. Of the _Maghzen_ tribes, who
had been so long the instruments of the Turks for the enslavement and
oppression of their brethren, some sent evasive, some insulting answers.
Anarchy was better suited to their sordid dispositions. They were ready,
if occasion presented itself, to offer their mercenary swords to the
French.
On the day appointed—May 18th, 1833—an imposing array of 8,000 cavalry
and 1,000 infantry assembled on the plains of Ersibia. Abdel Kader’s own
standard, a large white flag, with an open hand in the centre, was
unfurled before the multitude with great pomp and ceremony. After riding
through the ranks, and apostrophising the assemblage in a few short,
trenchant sentences, which caused the blood to thrill through their
veins, he led them off to take the field in the direction of Oran.
On this expedition he inaugurated that system, so conspicuous alike for
its simplicity and its regularity, which he afterwards maintained under
all changes and vicissitudes throughout his whole career. His tent was
large and commodious, and displayed hangings adorned with red, blue,
yellow, and green crescents. A woollen curtain divided it into two
compartments. The largest of these was the _menzoul_, or general
reception-room, open to all comers, and in which he heard appeals and
administered justice. The smaller he used as his bedroom and library;
and here he spent more time in reading than in sleeping.
On alighting at the end of the day’s march, which was generally over by
mid-day, he dismissed all his attendants, and retired into the strictest
privacy, scrupulously devoting an hour to prayer. He then went into the
_menzoul_, where his principal officers and secretaries were in waiting
to receive him. The movements of the enemy and his own plans were now
discussed, or orders and dispatches were dictated by himself. On these
occasions he frequently supported his commands by appropriate quotations
from the Koran. His ordinary military council consisted of four chiefs,
a kehié, and his treasurer; but other chiefs were called in, if thought
advisable. He listened to the suggestions of all with the greatest
patience and urbanity.
At sunset, Abdel Kader stood at the door of his tent, and preached. None
were compelled to attend; but none, if possible, absented themselves
from these discourses. Thence, as from a central source of light and
heat, all daily received that warmth of warlike and religious zeal which
glowed within their breasts. For Abdel Kader pre-eminently possessed the
art of attracting the love and admiration of his followers; and he
wielded with an almost magical power that talisman which is the gift, as
it is the sign, of noble and exalted natures.
For some weeks previous to Abdel Kader’s present advance on Oran, the
Hashem Gharabas, his family tribe, had been engaged in a series of
encounters with the French, under General Boyers. This general had
lately been replaced by General Desmichels; and Abdel Kader came up just
in time to assist his allies in resisting a vigorous attack made on them
by the latter. Dividing his force into two portions, he sent one to fall
on the enemy’s left flank, whilst, at the head of the other, he marched
directly up to a fort which the French general had erected at a place
called Figuier. The defence of this fort was supported by a battalion of
infantry, a squadron of Chasseurs d’Afrique, and two pieces of
artillery.
On approaching the fort, the Arab infantry wavered. Abdel Kader at once
sprang from his horse, and taking the lead on foot, attempted an
escalade. Twice repulsed in his endeavours to take the fort, he
remounted, and drawing off his men, rejoined his cavalry in the plain.
There the French were utterly unable to resist the onset made upon them.
Their lines of skirmishers were swept away, their squares broken. The
engagement was prolonged till night, when Desmichels retreated under
cover of the fire from his artillery. For some days there was a
suspension of hostilities.
Abdel Kader, impatient of inaction, proceeded one night with a hundred
picked horsemen, and placed himself in ambush in a copse, a short
distance from Oran, through which the French were accustomed to send
their reliefs of cavalry to the outposts. At the ordinary hour, a
squadron of Chasseurs made their appearance. Abdel Kader led on the
charge, routed and dispersed them, slaying several, and taking thirty
prisoners. One Chasseur made a thrust at him with his spear. The weapon
passed under his left arm. He held it firmly between his left arm and
side as in a vice, and with a swing of his sabre cut off the Frenchman’s
head.
In the _mêlée_ his cousin Achmet was shot down. Abdel Kader was by the
side of his wounded relative in a moment. After stanching the blood and
binding up his wound, he placed the sufferer before him on his horse,
and carried him out of reach of danger. Shortly afterwards, seeing that
the French were not disposed again to measure their swords with his, he
drew off his whole force, and returned to Mascara.
Abdel Kader had conducted this movement more with the intention of
trying his men, and of inspiring them with confidence, than with the
hopes of achieving any permanent result. He felt that the jealousies and
rivalries which environed him could only be dispersed by the tumult of
battle; and that all internal difficulties would vanish before success.
His reception at Mascara fully confirmed this impression. Many chiefs
who had hitherto withheld their allegiance, were there awaiting him.
Hadj-ibn-Isa, a celebrated Marabout, alone brought with him deputations
from twenty tribes in the Sahara.
Abdel Kader, deeply impressed with the necessity of absolute union
amongst his countrymen, to enable him to complete their common
independence, now determined on smiting with the sword all who
questioned or attempted to resist his power. Sidi-il-Aribi had been
collecting forces, which, as he never hesitated to declare, were to be
directed against the aspiring son of Mehi-ed-deen.
Abdel Kader paid him an unexpected visit at the head of 5,000 men,
announcing his approach by discharges of musketry and shouts of triumph.
His rival was completely taken by surprise; and the defence he attempted
was quickly paralysed. Tents were knocked over, prisoners made, flocks
carried off. It was only by sending a written engagement of submission,
and sending his son as a hostage to his conqueror, that the old chief
obtained forgiveness of the past, and security for the future.
On continuing his course through the vast valley of the Cheliff and the
adjoining regions, Abdel Kader received the adhesion of several
important tribes. He even advanced as far as the Ouarensis, a difficult
mountain range, inhabited by fierce Kabyles. These stern republicans,
secure in their fastnesses, and indifferent as to the doings of the
outer world, were accustomed to scorn all authority. Uncertain as to
their attitude, Abdel Kader refrained from pushing his expedition
further. At a later period these very tribes obeyed him like children.
Where no great feudal influences prevailed, the authority of Abdel Kader
was promptly and even thankfully accepted. The small provincial towns at
once opened their gates to him. His occupation of Arzew, situated two
leagues from the port of that name, was marked by a circumstance which
gave rise to reports reflecting both erroneously and injuriously on his
character for humanity.
He had issued the most stringent orders that no communications should be
opened with the French. In direct violation of this order, Sidi Achmet-
ibn-il-Taher, the Cadi of that town, had supplied the French with cattle
and forage, and, what was considered a far graver crime, had even sold
them horses. Abdel Kader had often written to him, warning him of the
consequences of his conduct, and menacing him with exemplary punishment
if he persisted in his proceedings. The Cadi, unable to give up the
profit he was making by his transactions, and calculating on French
protection, persevered. Abdel Kader one day suddenly dashed into the
town. The Cadi was seized, loaded with chains, and conveyed to the
prison at Mascara.
Giving strict injunctions that nothing was for the present to be done to
the delinquent, he rode off to the Beni Amers on matters which detained
him several days. His private intentions were to allow the Cadi to
ransom his life (justly forfeited by the law of the Koran) for 5,000
francs. On his return to Mascara he found, to his surprise, that the
Cadi had been put to death. Mehi-ed-deen had had him tried. He had been
condemned to capital punishment, and the sentence had been carried into
immediate execution. His eyes had been put out. The responsibility of
this latter act of brutality, which was the spontaneous suggestion of
one of the executioners, has been spitefully thrown by some on Abdel
Kader.
Fully comprehending that mere successes in the field would not be
sufficient to consolidate his dominion, Abdel Kader now sought to place
his sovereignty on a more solid basis, by holding places of strength,
erecting arsenals, and establishing stores and magazines. With this view
he attacked Tlemsen, about seventy miles to the south-west of Oran. This
town is situated on an eminence at the foot of steep and lofty
mountains. Its walls are remarkable for their thickness and solidity,
and it had frequently withstood sieges.
The mainspring of Abdel Kader’s strength at this epoch lay in the Beni
Amers and the Hashems. Taking strong detachments from these tribes, he
approached the town. Its population was divided into two parties, Turks
and Kolouglis. The latter (descendants of Turkish and Arab parents)
occupied the citadel. The Arabs were commanded by Noona, who has been
already mentioned. Abdel Kader summoned the latter to surrender. He
refused. The resistance which he offered was, however, quickly overcome;
for while Abdel Kader assaulted him on one side, the Kolouglis opened
fire on him from the citadel.
When the town of Tlemsen was won, Abdel Kader treated its inhabitants
with the greatest consideration. He had hoped that the Kolouglis would
acknowledge him. But, secure in their stronghold, they rejected all his
overtures. They consented, however, to maintain with him a friendly
intercourse. Having no artillery wherewith to reduce them, he accepted
the compromise, and installing one of his lieutenants as governor of the
town, returned to Mascara.
On the road he received tidings of his father’s death. Mehi-ed-deen had
lived long enough to see his favourite son embarked in that career which
he fondly hoped would be the prelude to his country’s freedom and
independence. The bereaved son was deeply afflicted by the loss of a
parent who had from his infancy lavished on him all the endearments of
love and affection, who had always treated him as a bosom friend and
companion, and to whose influence he in truth owed his high position.
But, so far from having time to indulge in the temporary retirement from
public affairs which his grief demanded, he was barely able to follow
his father’s remains to the grave.
Desmichels had just taken Arzew and Mostaganem. Abdel Kader had thus not
a moment to lose. It was imperative on him to make every endeavour to
nullify this extension of French dominion in the province of Oran. On
the 2nd of August, 1833, he was under the walls of Mostaganem, and led
an assault against it. Desmichels, leaving the garrison to defend
itself, immediately returned to Oran. He hoped that the presence of
Abdel Kader at Mostaganem would leave him free to carry out successfully
an incursion he had long contemplated.
On the 5th of August, the day after his arrival in Oran, consequently,
he sent a force of 3,000 cavalry and infantry and three field-pieces to
attack the Douairs and Zmelas, two tribes who were doing the French
irreparable injury by the activity with which they were enforcing the
blockade established by Abdel Kader. On the 6th, at daybreak, the column
came upon the Arab encampments. The artillery opened, the infantry moved
on at the double, the cavalry charged.
The Arabs, surprised, bewildered and stupefied, made but a straggling
and ineffectual defence. Finally they decamped, leaving their herds and
their flocks, and many women and children, in the enemy’s hands.
Suddenly their retrograde movement appeared, to the astonishment of the
French, to be stopped; their numbers, as if by enchantment, to be
increased; their attitude to have become offensive. Abdel Kader had
arrived.
Divining his adversary’s intention in leaving Mostaganem, he had ceased
to superintend the siege in person, and had rushed to the point more
directly menaced. He came up at the critical moment. It cost him little
to turn the tide of battle. The French infantry beat a rapid retreat,
some in hastily-formed squares, some in broken file; the cavalry
maintained a flying flight; the artillery alone did good service.
Anticipating an easy conquest, the French had not brought provisions.
They were now driven from their spoil. The pangs of hunger and thirst
assailed them. The scorching sun blazed over their heads. The Arabs
presently enveloped them on all sides.
“Fire the plains!” cried Abdel Kader. Instantly hundreds of horsemen
galloped off, and lighted the dry herbs and brushwood extending behind
the French rear. The unfortunate soldiery, retarded in their march by
the wounded, whom they nobly refused to abandon, had to tread on burning
cinders and wade through sheets of flame. Human nature sank beneath the
trial. Many flung away their arms. Some were suffocated; others, in
their despair, threw themselves frantically on the ground, eager to part
with their lives, of which the Arab yataghans soon relieved them.
Desmichels had been apprised by some fugitives of the disasters which
had befallen the expedition. The whole garrison of Oran was promptly
turned out to rush to the rescue. The troops barely reached the ground
in time to save their comrades from utter annihilation.
Abdel Kader, in the full flush of victory, returned without delay to
hasten on the siege of Mostaganem. It is difficult to say whether most
admiration should be bestowed on the boldness of his design, or on the
courage and perseverance which so nearly accomplished it. Abdel Kader
had no siege artillery; he possessed only infantry and cavalry. The
infantry had already made themselves masters of the suburbs, and were
attacking one of the forts close to the sea. A French brig galled them
with its fire. The Arabs stripped, swam off, holding their muskets over
their heads, and attempted to board it. They were driven off; but the
fearless audacity thus displayed shows how much may be achieved by Arabs
when commanded and inspired by a spirited leader. Abdel Kader had
commenced sapping. The sap reached the foot of the walls. An explosion
effected a breach. The order for a general assault was given. The Arabs,
led on and animated by the voice and example of their Sultan, rolled on
like a mighty wave, and like a wave, dashed and receded. The French,
lining the tops of the wall on either side, poured in such a flanking
fire on the assailants, that after a desperate struggle they were hurled
back in confusion. Abdel Kader, finding his last resource exhausted,
raised the siege and returned to Mascara.
Though Abdel Kader had already done sufficient to justify and secure the
confidence of his immediate companions in arms, and (despite the
jealousies of certain chiefs) to centre on himself the hopes and good
wishes of all the tribes within the province of Oran, yet the force of
circumstances had compelled some of the latter, however anxious to rally
round his standard, to submit to the invaders.
The Douairs and Zmelas, constantly exposed, by their vicinity, to the
incursions of the French, had suffered losses which the pardonable
instincts of nature had induced them to repair by an apparently friendly
accommodation with an enemy whom they inwardly detested. Strangers to
that spirit of self-abnegation which true patriotism requires, they had
consented to purchase a momentary tranquillity by accepting French
protection. By a treaty with Desmichels they had established themselves
under the French flag, in the valley of Miserghin, three leagues distant
from Oran.
The lofty policy of Abdel Kader could ill brook such a glaring violation
of the clear and unequivocal injunctions of the Koran. That sacred
volume neither countenanced nor admitted the principle of expediency. To
conquer or to die, sword in hand, for the Faith, was its uncompromising
and inexorable dogma. Zealous interpreter and dauntless defender of that
soul-inspiring mandate in all its heroic greatness, Abdel Kader made it
his imperative duty to uphold it with ceaseless and untiring vigilance,
and to visit its slightest infraction with unsparing rigour.
Independently of this superior and all-sufficient consideration, he well
foresaw that if vicinity to the enemy was to be made the pretext for
submission, and hardship and suffering the signal for treason, the views
which he entertained for the working out of the salvation of his country
would speedily be dissolved, his plans for its regeneration become
illusory, and his utmost efforts for their realisation abortive. He knew
that the edifice he was so laboriously erecting, thus breached at its
very base, would crumble away like a rope of sand.
He considered, consequently, that to condone, to overlook, or to excuse
such weakness, whatever the plea advanced, would be tantamount to
abandoning the trust which had been solemnly committed into his hands,
and the task which he had sworn to accomplish. The alternative presented
to him might be ungracious, it might be painful; but, calm and unshaken
in the purity of his conscience, firm and confiding in the goodness of
his cause, he accepted it.
Whilst maintaining a bold front to the enemy, it might become incumbent
on him so to act as to become an object of terror rather than of love,
to hundreds, perhaps thousands, of his own countrymen. His severity
might be called oppression, his exactions and punishments might be
stigmatised as tyranny. But at whatever cost to the sufferers, at
whatever detriment to his own popularity, he determined to make it
understood and felt throughout the tribes, as a policy indispensable to
the common welfare, that in him alone was vested the prerogatives of
making peace, or signing conditions; he resolved, therefore, to impress
on the minds of all the tribes, that if any accepted terms from the
French on their own account, their last and heaviest account would be
with him. The Douairs and Zmelas in due time experienced this correcting
discipline.
CHAPTER IV.
1833.
The enthusiasm excited in France by the taking of Algiers was of short
duration. A revolution had overthrown the dynasty of the elder branch of
the House of Bourbon, under whose auspices the conquest had been
achieved. The dark cloud of hatred and execration which enveloped the
departed tyranny, threw its ominous shadow over the glories of that
brilliant feat of arms.
Willingness to abandon the fruits of a triumph obtained under such
circumstances became the prevalent feeling. In the French Chambers a
large party denounced the contemplated occupation of Algeria as costly
and useless. Some suggested that the sea-coast towns should be held, not
so much with views of aggrandisement, as from a desire of saving the
national honour.
None understood, and few troubled themselves to investigate, the nature
of the country which was the subject of debate. All knew that Algeria
was a nest of pirates, that the governors were barbarous Turks, and that
the government were degraded Arabs. But what was the condition of the
interior, what were the manners, customs, and social characteristics of
the people, what kind of government would best replace the one which had
been overthrown, what system of administration should be adopted, no one
attempted duly to consider. On all these points the ignorance and
indifference was complete.
Fluctuating in its plans, and unwilling to release its grasp, the French
ministry, at an early period, reduced its army in Algeria to 10,000 men.
For a long time afterwards, all its measures were marked by weakness and
indecision. In the space of six years, no less than ten governor-
generals were sent over to experimentalise on new theories of
legislation. The thread of official experience was constantly broken by
the arrival of successive neophytes in the art of governing. Each new
actor appeared on the stage with his peculiar crotchets, which he
crudely endeavoured to carry into execution.
In the autumn of 1830, Marshal Clausel, the Governor-General, proposed
to entrust the provinces of Oran and Tittery to princes of the family of
the Bey of Tunis, on the condition of their becoming vassals of France.
He gave Oran, accordingly, to Prince Sidi Achmet, for an annual tribute
of one million francs. The prince, uncertain as to his reception by the
Arabs of that province, prudently sent before him a deputy, named Heir-
ed-deen, to feel the way. This functionary, on his arrival, found the
city nearly deserted, and the magazines void of provisions.
Nevertheless, he proceeded to feel his ground. He issued a proclamation
to the Arabs, giving them the most flattering assurances of his future
intentions. They were told that the French had not the slightest desire
to interfere with their established usages and customs; that they would
confine themselves to the occupation of the sea-coast towns; and that
the tribes in the interior should be governed by native chiefs of their
own selection. Some Arab sheiks, seduced by these promises, came in, and
received pelisses, and other marks of honour. They returned to their
tribes, but to become objects of ridicule. The plan proved utterly
abortive. It neither awakened hopes, nor dispelled fears. After a few
weeks, the agent of the prince withdrew.
To the immense advantages which accrued to him from the fluctuations and
failures which embarrassed the councils of the French government, Abdel
Kader was daily adding those solid results which arose from his own
energy and courage. The fruits of the impulse which he had imparted to
his countrymen were becoming more apparent. Confidence, if not victory,
followed everywhere in his train. The Arab character was developing
long-concealed virtues from its inmost depths. Patience, constancy,
perseverance, concentration of purpose, and a spirit of union, had all
been summoned to the surface under the presiding genius of Abdel Kader.
His principal care was to get rid of all the causes likely to endanger
the common weal, or to disturb his general line of action. The edict
which he had issued, forbidding all commercial transactions with the
French, had borne heavily on some of the tribes, who had long been
accustomed to trade with the towns now in French possession. The fruits
of a traffic exercised from generation to generation, and the enormous
profits actually reaped, were advantages not easily foregone. But, by
the influence of certain Marabouts, who, by the order of Abdel Kader,
were moving constantly amongst them, more patriotic feelings were made
to prevail. The Arabs ceased to frequent the French markets.
The system of blockade enforced by Abdel Kader had a telling effect on
the French garrisons. They depended almost entirely on the Arabs for the
necessaries of life. The sea brought them little or nothing, and only at
rare intervals. Hence the nervous anxiety, leading to acts of violence,
with which, like birds of prey, they scented and pounced upon their food
in the interior. Whilst Desmichels was revolving in his mind in what
manner he could, without lowering his dignity, bring about negotiations
with Abdel Kader, and relieve him from his pressing wants and
necessities, there occurred an event which opened the door to a
transaction.
Towards the end of October, 1833, an Arab, named Kudoor, of the Borgia
tribe, came to Arzew and sold some cattle. On his departure he asked the
French commanding officer to give him an escort, as he dreaded the
Sultan’s scouts, whom he knew to be on the look-out. An escort of four
horsemen was given him. At the distance of about a league from the town
the escort was attacked by a large force of Arabs. One man was killed;
the three others were taken prisoners and carried to Mascara.
Desmichels, only too happy to have a plausible pretext for writing to
Abdel Kader, now addressed him the following letter:—
“I do not hesitate to make the first advances to you. My position,
strictly speaking, does not allow me to do so, but humanity compels me.
I reclaim the liberty of those Frenchmen who, while engaged in escorting
an Arab, fell into an ambuscade. I cannot suppose that you will make
their release dependent on conditions, since, when by the fate of war
some of the Zmelas and Gharabas were not long since brought in to me, as
prisoners, I at once sent them back to their tribes, without any
stipulation, and treated them, moreover, with the greatest kindness.
“If, therefore, you wish to be considered a great man, I hope you will
not be behind me in generosity, and that you will immediately release
the Frenchmen who are now in your power.”
Abdel Kader returned the following reply:—
“I have received the letter, in which you express your hope that the
prisoners to whom you allude will be liberated. I understand its
contents. You tell me that, notwithstanding your position, you have
consented to make me the first advances. It was your duty to do so,
according to the rules of war. Between enemies, each has his turn: one
day the chances are for you, another for me. The mill turns for both,
and always crushing new victims.
“As for myself, when you have taken prisoners, I never troubled you with
reclamations in their behalf. I was pained, as a man, for their unhappy
fate; but, as a Mussulman, I looked upon their death, if it occurred, as
a new life. You tell me that your Frenchmen were employed to protect an
Arab. That is no reason with me. Protectors and protected were alike my
enemies; and all Arabs who are found with you are bad believers,
ignorant of their duty.
“You boast that you gratuitously liberated some of the Gharabas and
Zmelas. That is true. But you surprised men who were living under your
protection, and who were actually supplying your own markets. Your
troops robbed them of all they had. If, instead of falling on those who
were doing you a service, you had advanced beyond your lines; if you had
attacked men who were anxiously waiting for you, such as the Beni Amers
and the Hashems, then you might, with justice, talk of your generosity,
had you taken prisoners from them, and set them free.
“Then you would have deserved the praises you claim for yourself for
having pillaged the Zmelas, and setting about the report that I had
fallen into your hands. When you march two days beyond the walls of Oran
I hope we shall behold each other; and then it will be seen which of us
will remain master of the field.”
This haughty challenge would, under other circumstances, have aroused in
the breast of the French general the loftiest feelings of chivalry. The
drums would have been beat, the trumpets sounded, the standards
fluttered, and the Arab champion would have been swiftly summoned to the
test. Desmichels retorted by again attacking and plundering the Douairs
and Zmelas. Abdel Kader was amongst the Beni Amers when he heard of the
incursion.
He was instantly at the head of 5,000 cavalry, and rushed to the rescue.
With slackened reins and thundering hoofs, the Arab horse traversed a
distance of fifty miles in less than three hours. Not more than one-half
of the men, on his arrival, were fit for duty. But with these troops
Abdel Kader charged. The French, utterly confounded by this unexpected
apparition, hastily retreated, abandoning the women and children, whom
they had taken with them, as hostages. Fresh troops come up to their
relief, with more pieces of artillery; but, despite the galling fire to
which he was exposed, Abdel Kader followed up the enemy, and hovered
round them, to the very outskirts of Oran.
On his return to the Arab encampment he ordered the Douairs and Zmelas
to prepare for immediate departure from a spot where temptations to
transgress his edict were constantly held out to them, and where they
were as continually exposed to vile and cruel assaults. He marched them
off, with all their flocks and herds, and located them on a large plain
behind Tlemsen.
Desmichels, paralysed by the boldness and ubiquity of his redoubtable
foe, and finding his resources failing, his supplies cut off, and famine
ready to swoop down on his men, saw no alternative before him but
evacuation or peace. In this dire necessity he thus appealed to Abdel
Kader:—
“You will never find me deaf to any sentiments of generosity, and if it
would be convenient to you to grant me an interview, I am quite ready to
consent, in the hope that we may be able, by the most sacred and solemn
treaties, to stop the effusion of blood between two peoples destined by
Providence to live under the same dominion.”
Abdel Kader seeing his adversary in the attitude of a suppliant,
affected indifference. He left the letter unanswered. At the same time
he employed a Jew, named Mordecai Amar, his agent at Oran, to pacify the
French general with excuses, if any complaint were made as to his
silence, and to suggest the advisability of more explicit and
categorical propositions. After a month had transpired, Desmichels
penned a third dispatch:—
“Not having received any answer to the letter I lately wrote to you, I
prefer supposing that it has never reached you, to imagining that you
have not chosen to give it your attention.”
The general terminated his reasonings by imploring for peace as
follows:—“If you wish to maintain the exalted position to which
circumstances have raised you, in my opinion you could not do better
than accept my invitation, in order that the tribes may devote
themselves to the cultivation of their lands, and enjoy the fruits and
the blessings of peace, under the shadow of treaties binding us firmly
together.”
The young and victorious Sultan, with this document in his hand, could
now show his subjects that the enemy had been the first to crave for a
suspension of hostilities. There was no occasion for any further delay,
and he sent the following answer:—
“I have received your letter, and fully understand its contents. It
gives me great satisfaction to find that your sentiments agree with
mine. I feel quite assured of your loyal intentions; and you may feel
assured that any engagements into which we may enter shall be faithfully
observed on my part. I send you two superior officers of my army—Miloud
ibn Arasch and Ould Mahmoud. They will confer, outside Oran, with
Mordecai Amar, and will make known to him any proposition. If you accept
them, you can send him on to me, and then we will draw up a treaty,
which shall obliterate the hatred and enmity now severing us from each
other, and replace them by an indissoluble friendship. You may count
upon me, for I have never been unfaithful to my word.”
The proposed interview took place February 4, 1834. The Jew Amar was
accompanied by the whole of the French staff. A long discussion ensued
on various propositions made by Desmichels. The Sultan’s agent, Ibn
Arasch, then left, saying he would report what had passed to his master,
and return. He took with him a paper containing a draft of the
propositions, but without the general’s signature.
On the 25th, Ibn Arasch returned to Oran, bearing this draft, approved
and sealed by Abdel Kader, with another paper, containing the
propositions of Abdel Kader. He was instructed not to deliver the former
until the latter had been signed and sealed by Desmichels. Abdel Kader
conceived that these documents, mutually exchanged, would constitute the
Treaty. Their substance was as follows:—
CONDITIONS OF GENERAL DESMICHELS.
“1. Hostilities shall cease between the French and the Arabs from this
day.
“2. The religion and usages of the Mussulmans shall be respected.
“3. French prisoners shall be given up.
“4. The markets shall be free.
“5. Every French deserter shall be given up by the Arabs.
“6. Every Christian travelling in the interior shall be furnished with a
passport sealed with the seal of Abdel Kader’s consul, and that of the
General.”
CONDITIONS OF THE SULTAN ABDEL KADER.
“1. The Arabs shall be at liberty to buy and sell powder, arms, sulphur;
in a word, everything necessary for war.
“2. The commerce of the port of Arzew shall be under the jurisdiction of
the Prince of the Faithful. No cargoes shall be shipped except in that
port. Mostaganem and Oran shall merely receive such articles of
merchandise as are necessary for the wants of their inhabitants. To this
there shall be no opposition. Those who wish to ship goods must repair
to Arzew.
“3. The General shall give us up all deserters in chains. He shall not
harbour criminals. The general commanding at Algiers shall have no power
over Arabs who may come to him with the consent of their chiefs.
“4. No Mussulman shall be prevented returning home when he wishes.”
To the paper containing these conditions of Abdel Kader, Desmichels, who
dreaded nothing so much as the breaking off of the negotiation, at once
affixed his seal and signature. The former naturally thought that, by
virtue of the 2nd Article, he had secured a monopoly of commerce.
On the 26th February, 1834, Desmichels proposed to Ibn Arasch, that a
homogeneous treaty should be drawn up, embodying the substance of both
documents, but stating the French conditions more at large. Ibn Arasch
made no difficulty, never conceiving for a moment that such a document
could be intended to abrogate the conditions already conceded to his
master, in the paper which had just been signed and sealed by the
general. Hence arose the “Treaty of Desmichels,” which afterwards gave
rise to so many difficulties and complications.
TREATY OF GENERAL DESMICHELS, _February_ 26, 1834.
“The General commanding the French troops in the town of Oran, and the
Prince of the Faithful, Sidi-il-Hadj Abdel Kader-ibn-Mehi-ed-deen, have
decided on the following conditions:—
“Art. 1.—Hostilities shall cease between the French and the Arabs from
this day. The General commanding the French troops and the Emir Abdel
Kader will neglect nothing to maintain that union and friendship which
ought to exist between two peoples, destined by God to live under the
same dominion. To this end, representatives on the part of the Emir
shall reside at Oran, Mostaganem, and Arzew; and, to prevent collisions
between the French and the Arabs, French officers shall reside at
Mascara.
“Art. 2.—The religion and usages of the Arabs shall be respected.
“Art. 3.—All prisoners shall be immediately given up, both on one side
and the other.
“Art. 4.—Freedom of commerce shall be complete and entire.
“Art. 5.—Military men belonging to the French army, who desert their
colours, shall be brought back by the Arabs. In like manner, all Arab
malefactors, who, to avoid punishment, fly from their tribes and seek
refuge with the French, shall be immediately seized and delivered over
to the Emir’s representative, in the three maritime towns occupied by
the French.
“Art. 6.—Every European, having occasion to travel in the interior,
shall be furnished with a passport countersigned by the representatives
of the Emir, and approved by the General in command, in order that they
may find assistance and protection throughout the province.”
These conditions, written in parallel columns of Arab and French, were
signed and sealed by both parties. Nothing is said in this treaty of a
monopoly of commerce. But Abdel Kader had his bond, and was content.
Desmichels, proud of what he considered a diplomatic triumph, hastened
to send the grateful tidings of a peace to the French ministry, and
allowed himself to indulge in the following strain:—
“I have to announce to you the _submission_ of the province of Oran, the
most considerable and warlike of the regency. This great event is the
result of the advantages which have been obtained by the troops of my
division.”
Abdel Kader might well repose on his laurels. He had compelled his enemy
to sue for peace; he had made his own terms; he paid no tribute; his
territory was not limited; the French general had acknowledged his
independence by offering him the power to appoint and receive consuls.
The French were to load at one port alone, and were to submit to his
tariff.
In virtue of the monopoly secured to him by his own terms, Abdel Kader
now issued orders, prohibiting the Arabs from selling corn, or barley,
or agricultural produce, of any kind whatever, to Christians, whether
native or foreign. His agents were declared to be the sole authorised
buyers and sellers, and by them the prices in the markets were to be
fixed.
The French merchants at Arzew complained loudly to Desmichels of the
restriction. Abdel Kader appealed to his bond. Desmichels affected to
ignore it. He adhered to his homogeneous treaty, in which commerce was
declared free. Abdel Kader agreed to the test, but contended that though
the market _places_ (or _sook_) were free, he had the sole right of
supplying them.
One of the French merchants, acting upon the view of the question, as
put forward by the French general, bought a large quantity of corn and
barley from an Arab of the tribe of Hamian. The agent of Abdel Kader
went over and seized it. The merchant complained to the French local
authorities, but he was told that no interference could be tolerated
with the regulations of the Emir.
Desmichels, embarrassed with fresh complaints, and pressed for
explanation by General Voirol, the governor-general, to whom all this
misunderstanding was utterly incomprehensible, adopted a middle course.
He declared that the authorisation given to the Emir to make a monopoly
of grain, extended only to the grain raised on his own private property.
Abdel Kader ridiculed the subterfuge. He knew nothing of the exclusive
interpretation which Desmichels chose to put upon his treaty; he only
knew that he had the General’s seal and signature to a document granting
him a monopoly; and this monopoly he was determined to enact. The French
were not in a position to dispute his verdict; and he carried his point.
Abdel Kader, free at length from external molestation, devoted his
earnest attention to the internal affairs of his kingdom. Difficulties
and trials were yet before him. Jealousy of his successes on the part of
some, envy at the eminence he had attained on the part of others,
insinuations malevolently propagated by his rivals, and readily
entertained by the fanatical party, that he had betrayed the sacred
cause by making peace with the infidels—all combined, as disturbing
elements, to affect, more or less, the stability of his government.
But his retort was ready. To the taunting demand, “Where is now the
leader of the Djehad—where the lofty tone which breathed nothing but
battle and defiance, and invoked death rather than submission?” he
replied by calmly pointing to the French garrisons, confined to the
walls on which their cannon was planted; to the plains freed from
infidel marauders; to the cities unmolested by Frank invaders; and, more
than all, to a treaty, dictated at his sword’s point, which now, for the
first time in the lapse of ages, gave good warranty for hopes of Arab
freedom, and which promised to be the basis of Arab independence.
CHAPTER V.
1834.
Abdel Kader now entered on the task of organisation. He trusted but
little to the pacific professions of the French, and looked on the
present cessation of hostilities merely as an armed truce. He resolved,
consequently, to make use of the breathing time thus afforded, in
maturing his plans, husbanding his resources, and preparing for future
battles. Declaring the Djehad to be only suspended, not abandoned, he
issued his usual edict for the collection of the war-tribute, consisting
of the _ashur_, or tenth of all agricultural produce, and the _zekka_,
or tax on cattle.
To his astonishment, the most faithful of all his tribes, his most
zealous adherents, the very men who had been the guardians and
supporters of his nascent power, and by whose aid he had been enabled to
inflict his most deadly blows, refused obedience. The Beni Amers
asserted that cessation of impost was, in their eyes, the legitimate
consequence of cessation of war.
Abdel Kader hesitated not a moment. The Beni Amers must be attacked.
Writing to Mustapha-ibn-Ismail at Tlemsen, he ordered him to prepare the
Douairs and Zmelas for instant action. That old and wily leader of the
Turkish _Maghzen_, desiring nothing better than to have an opportunity
of falling on his old and mortal enemies, and rejoicing in the prospect
of plunder, joyfully accepted the summons, and boastfully enlarged on
the loyalty of his tribes. An unexpected incident turned the tide of
events.
As Abdel Kader was preaching one Friday, as was his wont, in the mosque
of Mascara, his eye lighted on some of the Beni Amer Sheiks. Suddenly
turning the stream of his eloquence, he thus apostrophised them:—“Were
not you, O Beni Amers, the first to call me to the post I now hold? Were
not you the first to implore me to establish a regular government, which
should inspire the good with confidence, and the wicked with terror?
“Did you not solemnly pledge your lives, your properties, and all that
you held most dear and sacred, to assist and strengthen me in the
arduous task? And will you be the first to abandon the common cause, the
first, by your example, to countenance and encourage conspiracies
against the very government you invoked? How can any government be
carried on without taxes, how maintained without the cordial union and
support of all?
“Think you that the smallest coin of the tribute which I demand, will
ever be appropriated to my personal or family expenses? You all know
that my paternal property suffices for my own needs. What I demand is
what the law of the Prophet renders it imperative on you, as good
Mussulmans, to give; and in my hands, I solemnly swear, it will be held
as a sacred trust, for the triumph of the faith!”
Moved by this frank appeal, the Beni Amer Sheiks demanded a conference.
The throng pressed around them. All ranks and ages joined their
entreaties to effect an accommodation. Thus surrounded, the Sheiks
advanced towards their young Sultan, and kissed his hand. In the name of
their tribe, they promised to pay the tribute. Orders were forthwith
despatched to Mustapha to suspend his march on the Beni Amers.
Three days afterwards, a horseman came riding in at full speed, to say
that Mustapha had, notwithstanding, commenced an attack. Abdel Kader,
hastily gathering together such horsemen as were within reach, galloped
off to the scene of action.
On arriving, he sent word to Mustapha to withdraw. On his refusal to
obey the order, Abdel Kader advanced to charge his recalcitrant chief. A
few only of the Beni Amers followed. After a desperate skirmish, Abdel
Kader had the mortification to see his men dispersed, and flying before
superior numbers. A handful of men alone remained to rally round his
person. Animated by the example of their chief, they fought with
desperation. Nearly all were killed, or dismounted. At last, after
performing prodigies of valour, Abdel Kader, his burnous riddled with
bullets, and his horse covered with wounds, cut his way through the
hostile ranks which closed him in, and galloped back to Mascara. He
reached it late at night—alone.
Abdel Kader defeated by the Arabs! The news spread like wildfire. In an
instant all slumbering rivalries were aroused. Sidi-il-Aribi raised the
standard of revolt. El Gomari, and the Beni Engad, prepared to join Sidi
Hamadi, the Governor of Tlemsen, who entered into correspondence with
Mustapha.
The tidings of these defections, so far from oppressing the soul of
Abdel Kader with despondency, only nerved him with fresh vigour. The
Hashem Gharabas, the Mejahers, the Beni Abbas, were staunch. The Beni
Amers had confirmed the adhesion given in by their Sheiks, at Mascara.
He could wield a force of 15,000 cavalry. With a large proportion of
these he at once took the field.
Mustapha had led off the Douairs and Zmelas to their old campaigning
ground near Oran, in the hopes of propitiating the French, and getting
their support. To his disgust, he was warned by the latter of the
consequences which would ensue if he persisted in rebelling against
Abdel Kader, the ally of France.
Desmichels had found out by bitter experience, the impossibility of
conquering the province of Oran, with such forces as his government had
placed at his disposal. The plan of raising up a native power to supply
this deficiency, and to assist in extending the French dominions, either
as vassals or allies, seemed to him to afford the easiest method for
escaping from a serious dilemma. He was dazzled by the great and
commanding qualities displayed by Abdel Kader, and always took a
pleasure in extolling his heroism, his prowess, and even his
generalship. He seemed almost to envy and covet his glory.
Desmichels was known to have frequently declared that he would make the
young Arab Emir all powerful, from the frontiers of Morocco to the
frontiers of Tunis. No doubt this declaration was made with the mental
reserve that the gallant chief should only be so as the vassal of
France. Abdel Kader, fully understanding the profitable tendency to
himself of this exuberant admiration, cared not to dispel an illusion
which marvellously promoted his own designs. He was secretly bent,
however, on preserving a perfectly independent position, and on
confining his allies to their counting-houses on the sea-coast.
Mustapha having been thus kept in check, Abdel Kader fell with his whole
force upon Sidi-il-Aribi, enveloped him in a crushing defeat, and took
him prisoner. At the same time he inflicted on the rebellious tribes a
signal chastisement, and collected all the arrears of tribute. Flushed
by this victory, he now sought out Mustapha. He met him on the plains of
Mahraz, July 13, 1834. The battle between the hostile chiefs raged for
some hours with alternate success. At last, both sides, worn out with
fatigue, and fainting with the heat, drew breath.
Abdel Kader seized the moment to send some Marabouts through the enemy’s
ranks, to offer terms. Mustapha, fearing an attack from the French, who
had advanced as far as the camp of Miserghin, and were in observation,
was nothing loath to listen to any propositions which might relieve him
from his perilous situation. Though declining a personal meeting with
Abdel Kader, he sent him his charger in token of reconciliation.
Abdel Kader now marched upon Tlemsen. His appearance before that town,
with all the prestige of victory, at once annihilated the intrigues of
which that place had been the focus. His faithless lieutenant, Sidi
Hamadi, was seized and imprisoned, but afterwards generously pardoned,
although not allowed to retain his post. This was conferred on Noona,
who after his late defeat had fled to Morocco, and had returned, bearing
letters of recommendation from the Moorish Sultan.
Abdel Kader entered Mascara in triumph. Two events had occurred during
his absence, which materially aided him. El Gomari, chief of the Beni
Engad, had been tried before a tribunal, and shot; and Sidi-il-Aribi had
died in prison. Freed from these rivals, and unimpeded by internal
faction, he was again at liberty to carry out his measures of general
administration.
The province of Oran was divided into two great districts, and placed
under khalifas, or lieutenants. That of the east, subdivided into seven
agalicks, and having Mascara as the seat of government, was placed under
the command of the Sultan’s brother-in-law, Mustapha-ibn-Tamy. That of
the west, with Tlemsen for its capital, was entrusted to Bou Hamadi.
Every tribe was held responsible for the peace and good order of its
locality. Weekly reports were required, as to the amount of cattle,
beasts of burden, and horses fit for service in each agalick. A Cadi,
appointed by the Sultan, and paid out of the public treasury, was sent
to each of the tribes, to administer justice.
A body of regulars was raised, consisting both of cavalry and infantry.
The latter were drilled and instructed by French non-commissioned
officers, who had been allowed to offer their services for that purpose.
Cannon-foundries, powder-mills, and manufactories of small arms, were
established and superintended by European artisans. The Arabs wondered
at these strange and novel proceedings. They felt that a new order of
things had suddenly fallen on them.
This, together with the vigilance with which crimes were detected, and
the certainty and severity of its punishment, soon had its effect on the
community. The entire province, which eighteen months previously had
been a prey to every kind of anarchy and confusion, now enjoyed the most
thorough tranquillity. So complete was the feeling of security which
existed in all parts, that, to use the favourite Arab illustration of
the perfection of good government, “A girl might have travelled the
length and breadth of the land with a casket of diamonds on her head,
without fear of molestation.”
Abdel Kader’s fame had now spread through Algeria. It was generally
felt, that a man had arisen who had not only shown himself capable of
preserving order within, but who, by his skill and daring, had succeeded
in imposing conditions on the infidels from without. The eyes of all the
well-disposed naturally turned towards one who had achieved such signal
results.
The inhabitants of Medea and Miliana, the principal towns in the
province of Tittery, sent deputations to Abdel Kader, begging him to do
for their province what he had already done for the province of Oran.
Had he been free to act on his own inspirations, forty-eight hours would
not have elapsed before he had been on the march in compliance with
their request. The invitation was not only flattering to his pride, as
showing the influence his name exercised over parties utterly unknown to
him, but offered—what in his eyes was its strongest inducement—a further
opening for the prosecution of the great object he had in view, the
establishment of a widely-extended Arab nationality.
The Treaty of Desmichels in no way precluded him from entering Tittery;
for that treaty had not confined him within any prescribed limits. Still
he was not disposed to undertake the enterprise without first
ascertaining how such a step would be viewed by the French authorities.
Contenting himself, therefore, for the present, with replying to the
deputations, that he required time to consider their demands, he
proceeded to fathom the thoughts of Count D’Erlon, the new Governor-
General, on the momentous topic. The recent arrival of that personage
gave him an opportunity of broaching the delicate question without
appearing to make it a special subject of negotiation.
Under the garb of a letter of felicitation to the general on his
appointment, the following feeler was adroitly put forward:—“The Kaid,
Miloud ibn Arasch, will give you every particular about us. I have
instructed him to ascertain your views as to the best manner of
establishing tranquillity in all the districts, whether maritime or in
the interior, along the coasts between Algiers and Oran, and in the
plains and the mountains, from Tlemsen and Mascara, _up to Medea and
Miliana_.”
Count D’Erlon had come to assume the arduous and responsible duties
which now devolved upon him, without any clear instructions, and without
any additional force. The French government, still uncertain as to its
European relations, had neither money nor troops to spare for the
prosecution of an Algerian war on a great scale. A vague idea possessed
it that Abdel Kader was the ladder by which the French were to scale the
heights of the Atlas. To keep on good terms with this influential chief
was, consequently, at this period, a cardinal point of French policy.
Accordingly, the reply of Count D’Erlon to Abdel Kader consisted of
vague generalities, and Was altogether couched in such terms, that the
latter had every ground to believe no measures would be taken to oppose
his proposed step if he only had the boldness to take it. Still he felt
the necessity of having his actual rights confirmed by the new Governor-
General before assuming new ones; and to this end he sent the document
containing his own terms, which had been duly signed and sealed by
Desmichels, as above related, to the Count, for his perusal.
D’Erlon, to whom even the existence of such a document was unknown, as
it had never been notified to the French Government, was thunder-struck.
Here was a French general, who had taken upon himself to sign a secret
treaty, giving solid and exclusive advantages to an enemy whose
hostility had not been disarmed, and whose friendship was doubtful. His
representations to the French ministry relative to this extraordinary
procedure were such, that they were speedily followed by the recall of
Desmichels from Oran.
At the same time he thus gave his opinion to Abdel Kader on the
subject:—“I would wish you to observe, that General Desmichels had no
power or jurisdiction, except in the province of Oran, and that he could
in nowise make any stipulations as regards any other part of the
regency. Even by giving the widest interpretation to the Treaty made
between you and him, in February, 1834, you can have no pretensions
beyond the province of Oran, limited as it has been by the sovereign
power of France.
“My desire for the present is, that you should not cross the lower
Cheliff, towards the east. If you govern the territory you now possess
according to Mohammedan laws, and with strict justice, we shall be
friends; but we cannot allow you to enter the province of Tittery. What
passes there is my concern. I am not at war with its inhabitants; I have
no fixed project of making establishments at Blidah and Bouffarick, but
whenever I think it for the interest of France to do so, I shall allow
no one to embarrass me.”
Abdel Kader paused for the present before such an interdict. Besides,
disturbances amongst the Flittas, in the valley of the Cheliff, excited
against him by the sons of Sidi-il-Aribi, called for his immediate
presence in that direction.
While engaged in appeasing these troubles, he was surprised by the
information that a certain Hadj Mousa, a shereef from the Sahara, had
entered Medea, and had been warmly received by a large portion of the
population. After waiting for a time to see what steps would be taken by
the French Governor-General, and finding that no opposition to the
assumptions of this adventurer was offered on the part of Count D’Erlon,
Abdel Kader determined to exercise full liberty of action. If a shereef
from the desert might snatch a province, why not he? Fortune is the
friend of the bold, and the world is for him who will seize it. He
dashed across the Cheliff, and marched on Medea, followed by all the
cavalry contingents of Oran, two battalions of regular infantry, and
four pieces of cannon. Cæsar had crossed the Rubicon.
Hadj Mousa came out to meet him, prophesying that God would give him the
victory, and that the cannon of Abdel Kader would not go off. Abdel
Kader replied that if, indeed, his cannon did not go off, he would
acknowledge a divine interposition, and withdraw. The battle was gained,
and the prophet and pretender was completely defeated. Abdel Kader took
possession, amidst general exultation, of the province of Tittery, and
appointed Khalifas at Medea and Miliana.
General Trezel, who had replaced Desmichels at Oran, proposed to reply
to this movement of Abdel Kader by seizing Mascara. D’Erlon temporised.
He was neither authorised nor prepared to commence hostilities. He even
condescended to treat with Abdel Kader in the very town he had occupied
in direct violation of his prohibition. Captain St. Hippolyte was sent
to him, bearer of the following draft of a treaty:—
1. Acknowledgment of the sovereignty of France.
2. Precise definition of the power of the Emir, which is to be exercised
in the province of Oran alone, bounded on the east by the Cheliff, from
its mouth to its confluence with the Wady Riou, and by the river of that
name up to Godjidah.
3. Right of French and all Europeans to travel in the province of Oran.
4. Entire freedom of commerce in the interior.
5. Engagement on the part of the Emir not to export, except in ports
occupied by the French.
6. Tribute to be paid by Abdel Kader, and hostages to be given by him.
The tribute to be considered a mark of his acknowledgment of French
sovereignty.
A treaty which thus abrogated, by a stroke of the pen, all the rights
and privileges his own good sword had obtained, might apparently have
been regarded by Abdel Kader as an insult or a defiance. But, in
reality, it was the result of his own diplomacy. He had learned to
appreciate the value and importance of the power to make treaties. He
knew that this power implied an independent position, whether for
proposing or accepting terms. Already a French general had, by treaty,
acknowledged and confirmed his right to an independent sway, had saluted
him as Emir, and Prince of the Faithful, or Sultan.
Negotiations once opened with the new Governor-General might lead to
similar concessions. What the nature of the propositions, presented to
him in the first instance, might be, was to him a matter of supreme
indifference. What he wanted, and what he earnestly urged his agent at
Algiers to obtain from D’Erlon, was a treaty. He trusted to the chapter
of accidents to mould any fresh negotiation to his own wishes.
The employment of well-paid spies introduced him into the most secret
councils of the French authorities. Able and crafty agents, accredited
to the responsible heads of the French administration, in its various
centres of action, were made the means of promoting his views and
advancing his interests. These agents were instructed to gain the
confidence of all important personages; to be always about them on some
pretence or other; to be constantly extolling their master’s merits; and
enlarging on his talents for administration; to speak loudly of his
extraordinary influence in the country; and, finally, to insinuate the
immense advantages which would accrue to France by having such a pioneer
in the path of conquest.
A Jew, of the name of Durand, had performed all these functions, at
Algiers, with rare ability. He had easily contrived to get the ear of
D’Erlon. He was consulted by him in all affairs of moment connected with
the internal government of the regency. He had gradually impressed him
with a favourable opinion of his master; and he succeeded, finally, in
drawing him into the current of credulous expectation with regard to the
conduct of Abdel Kader, which had carried away more than one of his
predecessors. In the meantime, he had wormed out of him the foregoing
treaty, and was commissioned to accompany the bearer of it to Medea.
There, though the treaty met with very little ceremony or attention, the
bearer of the treaty received the most striking marks of friendship and
hospitality. A grand review was held; and the French envoy gazed with
dubious admiration on the nucleus of an Arab army. He was invited to
accompany the Sultan on a tour of inspection about to be made through
the provinces of Tittery and Oran. The offer was accepted; and Captain
St. Hippolyte and the Jew Durand figured conspicuously in the royal
suite.
Abdel Kader made the most of his time. Purposely going into those
districts which had recently shown symptoms of disaffection, or were
wavering in their allegiance to him, he secretly enjoyed the impression
made on the tribes by the French uniform. What, they thought, must be
the power of a chief who had made the infidels his vassals, and who
could, no doubt, at any moment summon their armies to march to the
support of his throne? Any resistance to such a potentate would be mere
madness. Unqualified submission was their best and only alternative.
On reaching Mascara, fresh tokens of politeness and cordiality awaited
the distinguished guests. On the third day after their arrival, Abdel
Kader put his own treaty into their hands. It was to this effect:—
1. The provinces which are under the dominion of the Prince of the
Faithful, and which are in submission, shall remain dependent on him. In
like manner the country which the Governor-General actually holds shall
remain under his dominion.
2. Whenever the Emir shall think fit to appoint or to remove the
Governors of Medea and Miliana, he will inform the Governor-General,
that he may take note of the fact; and also make those functionaries the
medium of any dispatch or communication he may have to convey to him.
3. Freedom of commerce for all. The Arabs shall be respected in the
markets by the French, and the French by the Arabs, in all the provinces
under the dominion of the Emir.
4. The Prince of the Faithful shall buy at Algiers, through his agent,
everything he requires in the shape of mortars, muskets, powder, and
sulphur.
5. The Emir shall give up to the French all deserters; and the Governor-
General will act similarly towards the Emir.
6. If the Emir projects a tour towards Constantine or elsewhere, he will
inform the Governor-General of his intention and of his motive for doing
so.
A treaty so ridiculously contrasting with the one sent for his
acceptance by the French Governor-General, and which, so far from
limiting his power, proposed to allow him to leap at one bound, from the
gates of Oran to those of Constantine, and to make the French themselves
the complaisant approvers of this encroachment, was certainly one which
the Prince of the Faithful never expected to see accepted.
Perfectly comprehending, however, the exaggerated importance attached to
his friendship and support by the French Government, and relying on the
efficacy of those secret influences he had hitherto so successfully
employed, Abdel Kader was not without hopes that by a strenuous and even
overstrained assumption of right, and a bold avowal of design, dimly
suggestive of reserved strength, he might at all events procure such a
treaty as should enhance the advantages he actually possessed,
strengthen his position, enlarge his sphere of action, and still further
dispel the clouds which yet obscured the brilliant vista of glory lying
before him.
Up to this time he had succeeded in almost all he had undertaken. His
faith in his mission, always strong and unshaken, now possessed his mind
with the strength of a religious conviction. By inspiring all around him
with a like confidence and belief, this faith became to him an
instrument of power. His past success was accepted as a sure omen of
future triumphs. A French officer, about this time, advised him, out of
honest sympathy and regard, not to be presumptuously confident. “What!”
replied Abdel Kader, “it is but three years since I was simply one of my
father’s five sons, and obliged to mount and equip myself from the
enemy’s spoils. You see what I am now; and you tell me not to have
confidence in myself!”
CHAPTER VI.
1835.
Count D’Erlon visited Oran in the month of June, 1835. Abdel Kader wrote
to compliment him on his arrival, and anxiously awaited overtures. The
Governor-General was desirous of inviting him to a personal interview.
Trezel firmly and successfully pointed out the impolicy of such a step.
He maintained that, so far from Abdel Kader being willing to see, much
more to aid in, the extension of French dominion in Algeria, he was, in
fact, adroitly making the French Government the instrument for his own
exaltation, and that to enter into closer relations with him would be
tantamount to an approval of his late conduct.
Such, indeed, was the indignation of that uncompromising soldier at the
facility with which Abdel Kader was achieving his own ends at the
expense, as he conceived, of French honour, and to the great scandal of
French common sense and discrimination, that he had more than once been
tempted to march against him on his own responsibility. D’Erlon, on the
contrary, strongly impressed by this time with the importance and
necessity of Abdel Kader’s support, would not hear of any steps being
taken that might possibly lead to a rupture; and on returning to
Algiers, ordered Trezel carefully to cultivate his friendship and
alliance.
Such, however, in a short time, became the state of affairs in the
province of Oran, that Trezel had only before him the choice of two
courses—either to submit to Abdel Kader’s dictation, and await his
sovereign pleasure in all things connected with the interior, or to
place himself in such a position as to be enabled to act independently.
The Douairs and Zmelas had resumed a friendly intercourse with the
French. Abdel Kader threatened to take them back forcibly to Tlemsen.
Those tribes, rather than abandon their crops and be deprived of a
profitable traffic, at once demanded French protection. Trezel granted
their request; and, hearing that Abdel Kader’s officers were engaged in
harassing them with forcible measures—seizing their cattle and carrying
off some of their Sheiks—he sent a brigade to their camping ground near
Miserghin. On the 16th June, 1835, a treaty, containing eleven articles,
was signed by both parties, in which the Douairs and Zmelas were
declared French subjects.
Abdel Kader was still desirous to avert hostilities, and even so anxious
to avoid any pretext which might lead to them, that he had issued strict
orders that no Arab was, under any circumstances, to fire on a Frenchman
except in self-defence. He therefore simply wrote to Trezel, strongly
protesting against a step which he looked on as a glaring infraction of
the treaty of Desmichels, by which the French engaged not to harbour
refugees from the tribes, and to send back Arab deserters.
Trezel answered him that he was quite willing to abide by that treaty;
but argued that the word “deserter” applied only to individuals, and
could never have been intended to extend to whole tribes who preferred
French rule to his. Viewing the sense of the treaty in that light, he
said, he could never deprive the Douairs and Zmelas of the rights they
had obtained.
This notification drew from Abdel Kader the following letter:—
“You know the conditions which Desmichels made with me before you came
to Oran, and to which you yourself promised to adhere. By those
conditions, every Arab who commits a misdemeanour or crime, and flies to
you for refuge and protection, is to be sent back to me, even when it is
a question of more than one individual. How much stronger becomes my
claim on this point, when it is a question of whole tribes deserting and
going over to you!
“The Douairs and Zmelas are my subjects; and according to our law, I
have a right to do with them as I please. If you withdraw your
protection from them, and let them obey me, as heretofore, it is well.
If, on the contrary, you persist in breaking your engagements, recall at
once your consul from Mascara; for even should the Douairs and Zmelas
enter within the walls of Oran, I will not withdraw my hand from them
until they repent and atone for their fault. Moreover, my religion
prohibits me from allowing a Mussulman to be under the dominion of a
Christian. See what suits you best; otherwise the God of Battles must
decide between us.”
Trezel could only reply to such a tone by the sound of cannon. Indeed,
hostilities had, in some degree, already begun. A few days previously,
the French cavalry, being short of forage, had cut down the crops of the
Hashem Gharabas. Abdel Kader, on hearing of this irruption on his family
tribe, had moved up 2,000 horse and 800 foot to their vicinity, near the
river Sig. Trezel now determined to attack this force before it assumed
any greater development. On the 26th of June, 1835, he led out a column
for that purpose, consisting of 5,000 infantry, a regiment of Chasseurs
d’Afrique, 4 mountain pieces, and 20 waggons for provisions, besides the
ordinary ambulance.
Shortly after entering the wood of Muley Ismail, the leading companies
opened fire on what they conceived to be a straggling party of the
Arabs. The fire was vigorously returned. Presently cavalry appeared. It
was Abdel Kader’s advanced guard, coming from the Sig. In a few minutes
the French were furiously attacked in front and on their flanks.
The suddenness of the onset, the thickness of the wood, and the
undulating nature of the ground, which tended to conceal the real number
of the enemy, combined with the shouts and cries by which the Arabs
sought to magnify their number, all contributed to shake the steadiness
of the French column. In vain were certain changes in its formation
attempted: the rear battalions ordered to close up, the centre
compacted, and the cavalry thrown out. In a short time the whole body
was thrown into confusion, the cavalry was driven in, and the infantry
and artillery were only able to fire their discharges at random.
For a while the Arab attack seemed to relent. The French now broke from
their ranks. The provision waggons were seized and emptied; the wine
casks were staved in. All eat and drank ravenously. At length, by the
greatest exertions on the part of the officers, some sort of order was
restored, and an onward movement was effected. The banks of the Sig were
reached about sunset; and there the French column encamped in solid
square.
Fortunately for the French, the main body of Abdel Kader’s army,
approaching by forced marches from Tlemsen, had been obliged to halt for
a short repose some two leagues higher up the stream. The French, for
that night, had a respite. At dawn of day, Trezel commenced a retreat;
but Abdel Kader had not been inactive. By a rapid night march he had
succeeded in placing himself on the enemy’s line of communication with
Oran. Trezel was in no condition to fight his way, and took the
direction of the seaport town of Arzew. Knowing the difficulties of a
direct movement in that point—part of the intervening country being
almost impassable to waggons and artillery carriages—he determined to
turn the Hamian Mountains, and to emerge on the plain of Arzew by the
defile of the Habra, where that river Habra changes its name to that of
the Macta.
Abdel Kader, seeing the direction the French were taking, at once
devised their object. If he could only occupy the defile of the Habra
before they reached it, he knew they would be at his mercy. But the
distance was too great for infantry to accomplish in time to effect his
object. Selecting a thousand horsemen, he ordered each rider to mount a
foot soldier behind him, and gallop to the spot. This lucky inspiration
was crowned with complete success. The French, after patiently toiling
across the plain of Ceirat, harassed all the way by the Arab cavalry,
entered the defile about mid-day.
To their surprise they found the slopes on either side of them bristling
with arms. As they proceeded, huge pieces of rock were hurled down upon
them. While the French skirmishers were occupied during two hours in
bravely but slowly opening a way, Abdel Kader with his whole army closed
in upon them from behind. Their rear guard, fearing to be cut off,
pushed on confusedly to the front.
Part of the ambulance and artillery took ground to the right, and got
swamped in a marsh. The artillerymen cut their traces and fled.
Regiments got intermingled. Companies and sections of companies rushed
here and there for places of shelter or escape. Luckily for them, the
Arabs were too much occupied in plundering and stripping and slaying the
wounded, to follow them into the nooks and corners in which they had
sought for refuge. Many, trying to swim the river, were carried away by
the stream and drowned. Night came on. The crushed and mutilated mass
dropped away towards Arzew in disjointed fragments of helpless and
bewildered fugitives.
The Arabs knew no bounds to their exultation. Shouts of joy resounded,
and the glare of torches flashed to and fro in the defile all through
the night. An aerial spectator might have seen one part of it occupied
with busy architects. Drawing near, he would have seen something growing
up from the ground, like a pyramid. Bending down and listening, he would
have heard frantic cries of “more heads, more heads!” A closer
inspection of this work of art would have revealed to the astonished
gaze hundreds of French heads, piled up promiscuously.
Abdel Kader rode towards the place about midnight. He reined up, and
paused for awhile in silent and painful contemplation. His soul revolted
at the ghastly trophy. For the moment he was powerless; but as he passed
on, he resolved in his mind that this should be the last of such
barbarities.
Such was the terrible episode of the Macta. France was electrified at
the news of the disaster. The nation, with one accord, demanded
investigation, punishment, and vengeance. D’Erlon was recalled; the
brave but unfortunate Trezel was replaced by General D’Arlanges. Marshal
Clausel was sent to inaugurate a new era in what was now called the
African colony of France; but his new weapons were destined to break in
his hands.
In the session of 1835, M. Thiers spoke powerfully in the French
Chambers on the subject of the system which had, up to that time, been
pursued in Algeria. “It is not colonisation,” he said. “It is not
occupation on a large scale; it is not occupation on a small scale. It
is not peace; it is not war. It is war badly made.” Roused by this
taunt, so bitterly justified by the late deplorable event on the Macta,
the French Government at last threw some energy into its mode of action,
augmented the army in Algeria, ordered the vigorous prosecution of the
war with Abdel Kader, and decreed the occupation of Mascara. It was
thought that the seizure of his capital would bring the aspiring young
Sultan to terms.
Marshal Clausel arrived at Algiers August 10th, 1835. A pompous
proclamation which he issued boastfully announced the speedy submission
of the whole regency. A map was at the same time published, showing the
colony divided into beylicks, with the names of the native beys
appointed to govern them. Abdel Kader was held to be a thing of the
past, or, if existing, to be easily disposed of.
This highly satisfactory arrangement, however, never extended beyond the
domain of imagination. The marshal’s military deeds were destined to
contrast awkwardly with his military dreams. Expeditions to Medea, to
Miliana, to Cherchell, all returned with sad tales of humiliation and
reverse. “In two months,” he had ostentatiously declared, “the Hadjouts
shall cease to be.” The marshal theorised; Abdel Kader performed.
His Khalifa at Miliana descended, by his orders, into the Metija with
5,000 cavalry and infantry, rallied these very Hadjouts, swept the
plains of Algiers of all the French colonists, and blockaded Algiers
itself. On the other hand, D’Arlanges and the garrison of Oran were
reduced to the greatest straits. They were little more than prisoners of
war. Abdel Kader had almost realised his threat that not a bird should
fly over the towns occupied by the infidels without his leave.
The French everywhere writhed in their fetters. The army breathed fury
and indignation, and almost mutinied. From the general to the drummer,
all loudly demanded to be led out against the daring and successful Arab
who was thus setting them at defiance and enveloping them in the toils
of his fearless and enterprising genius. On the 21st of November, 1835,
Clausel went to Oran, and prepared to take the field with 12,000 men.
Abdel Kader was already on the alert. His available force, to meet the
coming shock, was 8,000 cavalry, 2,000 infantry, and four pieces of
cannon. With these he proposed to check, harass, and perhaps scatter,
the French army on its line of march. To defend Mascara never entered
into his plan; his was not a siege power.
Clausel quitted Oran November 27th. The wood of Muley Ismael was passed,
and the fording of the Sig effected without opposition. As the column
drew near to the Habra, the Arabs were seen moving in a parallel
direction along the adjacent heights. Abdel Kader was watching the
moment when a break in the French lines would offer him a favourable
point of attack. Clausel, penetrating this intention, halted, closed up,
and, making face to his right, advanced against the Arabs, in _échelons_
of battalions from his left.
Abdel Kader refused battle. Leaving his adversary to enjoy the barren
fruits of his change of front, he pushed on rapidly, and placed himself
across the main road leading to Mascara. His left was posted on an
eminence, where he placed his artillery; his right was protected by a
wood. His selection of ground would have done honour to a European
general.
An able commander may seize a strategical point in such a manner as to
decide the fate of a campaign. He may overbear, and even turn to a good
account, obstacles apparently insuperable, by tactical skill; he may
make time and space subservient to his designs; but he cannot give
irregulars the firmness requisite to hold the part assigned to them in a
regular order of battle. It was the fate of Abdel Kader to discover now,
that, in attempting to realise the theories of European military science
in the open field, and on a given ground, with the levies under his
command, the elements he wielded were below the requirements of his
genius.
Four chapels, dedicated to Sidi Embarek, were occupied by his advanced
posts. These the French quickly drove in. The Arab cavalry charged in
various places; but they were broken and dispersed by shells and
rockets. Abdel Kader directed in person the fire of his artillery. Some
well-directed shots had thrown a French brigade into confusion.
Immediately he led on his infantry against it. Animated by his presence,
his Arabs and Kabyles went in valiantly. But they measured themselves in
vain against the courage and obstinacy of French infantry. The struggle
on their part was desperate but fruitless, and they retreated in
confusion.
The French had in the meantime, and after some hours’ hard fighting,
possessed themselves of the wood on the right of the Arab position,
whilst their artillery had pushed well up the main road. The Arabs
abandoned the field at all points. Abdel Kader vainly endeavoured to
preserve some order in the retreat. That night, his regular infantry
disbanded. Of the cavalry of the tribes, some went to their homes;
others hurried off to Mascara, and began to plunder the place. He
himself withdrew to Cachero, his family property, about two leagues
beyond that town.
The army of Abdel Kader had melted away like a wreath of snow. It was
evident that the French would soon be in Mascara. Tlemsen might even
fall into their hands in a brief space of time. Whole tribes, as a
probable consequence, would seek safety by submission. Some of his
chiefs, on whom Abdel Kader most relied, had already deserted him. His
case seemed to be hopeless. But he calmly awaited the time when the
panic should subside; he felt assured that it would be only transient.
He was mortified and indignant at the stain which had been put upon his
fame and reputation by the weakness and pusillanimity of some, and the
treason of others. Yet he never uttered an invective or a reproach.
The few followers who remained with Abdel Kader anxiously endeavoured to
read his thoughts. The alarmists he re-assured; the faint-hearted he
encouraged; to his mother, who, with womanly tenderness and compassion,
now approached him to pour words of comfort and consolation in his ear,
he calmly replied, taking her hand in his, “Women, mother, have need of
pity, not men.”
Clausel entered Mascara December 6, 1835. A miserable crowd of Jews was
all that remained of its population. They came out of their dens to
crouch at the feet of the victorious French. All masters were alike to
these exiles from the Land of Promise. The Mohammedans had disdained to
allow them to accompany them in their flight. On the 7th, flames burst
forth in various parts of the town, but were soon extinguished. The
French were just beginning to repose from their fatigues, and were
contemplating a permanent occupation, when, to their surprise and
disgust, they got orders to prepare for leaving. On the 8th December,
Mascara was evacuated.
The next day, a horseman appeared before its gates. It was Abdel Kader.
Rumours of his presence spread rapidly. Some Arabs made their appearance
before him; they looked abashed and mistrustful. El Aoura, Aga of the
Hashems, was amongst the number. In the flight, he had carried off the
royal parasol. He now produced it. “Keep it for yourself,” said Abdel
Kader, with a sarcastic smile; “you may, one of these days, be Sultan.”
As the day wore on, some of the fugitive chiefs came dropping in. Abdel
Kader eyed them contemptuously. At last, one ventured to ask him, if he
had any orders to give them. “My orders!” he exclaimed. “Yes, my orders
are, that you instantly relieve me from the burden you imposed upon me,
and which the interests of religion alone have enabled me to support, up
to this hour. Let the tribes make choice of my successor, and inform Il
Hadj Djellali of the result. I am going with my family to Morocco.”
By a common impulse, chiefs and men prostrated themselves before him,
kissed his hands, his feet, his burnous, imploring pardon and
forgiveness for the past, and promising fidelity and constancy for the
future. “He was their father, their Sultan, the chosen of God to lead on
the Djehad; their lives were his; if he left them, they had nought to do
but surrender to the infidels.” At these last words, Abdel Kader turned
round abruptly. The blood mantled to his cheeks. They had struck the
only chord to which his heart responded—the sense of duty. “God’s will
be done,” he exclaimed; “but remember, I swear never to enter Mascara
except to go to the Mosque, until you have avenged your ignominious
defeat. I see traitors amongst you; Mamoor yonder is one; let him be
hung.” The unfortunate culprit was seized and executed forthwith.
The master spirit had prevailed; confidence was restored. That night,
from the royal tent, dispatches went forth to all the tribes, summoning
them to renewed action. On the morrow, Abdel Kader, buoyant and cheerful
as ever, towering above misfortune, mighty in disaster, dauntless where
all desponded, arresting victory in her flight from the very depths of
humiliation and defeat, sallied forth, sword in hand, at the head of
6,000 cavalry, to attack and harass the French column, as, wrapped in
tempest, drenched with rain, and benumbed with cold, it pursued its
incomprehensible retreat on Mostaganem.
CHAPTER VII.
1836.
Notwithstanding Clausel’s temporary occupation of Mascara, Abdel Kader
had already regained his ascendancy. Everywhere he was in possession of
the field. Several tribes who had shown an inclination to accept the
rule of the French were punished, either by money levied, or cattle
distrained. Moreover Clausel sued for peace.
To the proposition that he should acknowledge the sovereignty of France,
Abdel Kader replied, that before acknowledging a suzerain he should like
to know precisely the extent of power and territory which he was to
hold, as well as the obligations he should be called on to fulfil.
Miloud ibn Arasch was invited to come to Oran to discuss the
negotiation. Clausel was, at this time, meditating an expedition against
Tlemsen.
The presence of the French in the interim had encouraged their
partisans. Mustapha ibn Ismail had promised Clausel the co-operation of
more than one Arab tribe, if he advanced upon Tlemsen. The Beni Engad
declared themselves his friends, and they were already drawing near the
town in large force with the view of assisting him, and aiding the
escape of the Kolouglis from the citadel, in which the latter were still
blockaded.
Abdel Kader hearing of this combination, made a rapid descent on both
parties. He caught Mustapha and the Kolouglis in the very act of making
a sortie, and drove them back. Turning round on the Beni Engad, he
completely routed them. The action was scarcely over, when Clausel and
his column, 8,000 strong, were seen marching on the town. Abdel Kader
had barely time to complete its evacuation. He withdrew with the whole
population, unmolested, to Ouchda, on the frontiers of Morocco. Clausel
entered Tlemsen January 13th, 1836.
Mustapha and the Kolouglis, followed by a miserable crowd of Jews,
presented themselves before the Governor-General and his staff,
overwhelming him with exuberant professions of loyalty and submission,
and calling him their saviour and benefactor. He demanded from them
100,000 francs as a proof of their sincerity. In vain the astonished
dupes pleaded their utter inability to raise such a sum, Clausel was
inexorable. The screw was mercilessly applied. Threats and blows, and
even torture, were used, and the contribution was finally paid, partly
in coin, partly in diamonds and articles of jewellery.
This mode of treatment pursued by the French was as great an advantage
to the cause of Abdel Kader as any victory would have been.
“If that is the way,” he exclaimed, “the French treat their friends,
what are their enemies to expect?”
It was diligently spread abroad that a Jew had presided at the tying up
and castigation of the Kolouglis. The Arabs were furious. Such an
indignity put upon Mussulmans had never been heard of. The Beni Engad
opened a correspondence with Abdel Kader. The Kolouglis sent him word
privately that they only awaited the departure of the French to give him
up the citadel.
It was the intention of Clausel, however, to occupy the town, as he was
extremely anxious to establish a direct communication between Tlemsen
and the sea-coast. The mouth of the Tafna was the nearest available
point for this purpose, but the intervening ground was mountainous. He
set out to accomplish his object, January 23rd. He soon found himself in
presence of Abdel Kader, with his whole army.
For ten successive days the battle raged between them. The Arabs,
burning to avenge their late defeat, were obstinately tenacious. Abdel
Kader, moreover, had not attempted a regular formation. Hills, ravines,
rocks, and rivers were seized and defended, according to the exigencies
of the moment. Against such tactics, and in an unknown country, French
courage and discipline were at fault. Clausel was defeated and driven
back to Tlemsen with considerable loss. After placing a garrison in the
citadel under the command of Captain Cavaignac, he returned with his
column to Oran, harassed by Abdel Kader to its very gates.
On his arrival at Algiers, he consoled himself for all his futile
expeditions by issuing a proclamation declaring the war to be finished.
“Abdel Kader,” it stated, “utterly beaten and discomfited, has fled to
the Sahara, there to conceal his treason and revolt.” In April, the
Marshal embarked for France, leaving instructions to General d’Arlanges
at Oran, to make a fortified camp on the Tafna, with the view of opening
from thence the desired line of communication with Tlemsen.
General Perregaux about this time made an incursion on the tribes
located in the valley of the Cheliff. Influenced by their chiefs, the
sons of Sidi il Aribi, these tribes had continued, despite their
repeated corrections, to waver in their obedience to the Sultan. They
had not paid the tribute without considerable reluctance and complaints,
and they had furnished their contingent of cavalry to his army with
manifest repugnance. They now, under pretence of superior pressure,
again entered into an alliance with the French.
Abdel Kader was too much occupied, for the moment, with the blockade of
Tlemsen and the proceedings of D’Arlanges on the Tafna, to interrupt the
military promenade of Perregaux. But the recreant Arabs, who had
welcomed the French general, were soon made to feel the weight of the
Sultan’s indignation. No sooner had the French withdrawn than he came
down on them like an avalanche. Eighteen tribes were heavily fined, and
their cattle distrained. The Borgia tribe, singled out to serve as a
terrible example, was decimated, and then driven out of the district to
find shelter where it could.
D’Arlanges had reached the Tafna, with great difficulty, on the 16th of
April, with 3,000 infantry and eight pieces of artillery. Having
completed an entrenched camp on the banks of the river, he marched out
on the 21st, in conformity with his instructions, to open the road to
Tlemsen. Abdel Kader, who from the central position of Nedroma, which
commanded equally the road from the Tafna to Tlemsen and to Oran, was
able to watch his enemy’s movements in either direction, rapidly
descended to the encounter, enveloped the French column with masses of
Kabyles and Arabs, and obliged it to retrace its steps.
He owed this success to his own unwearied exertions and commanding
influence. So long as he could keep each separate French garrison in a
state of isolation, the game was his own. But to effect so comprehensive
a plan, he was obliged to keep the whole country constantly on the
alert. With this view he had for weeks past been traversing the
mountains of the Kabyles which spread around the Tafna. Through toilsome
days and sleepless nights he had been summoning, preaching, and
haranguing. His fiery eloquence had raised the enthusiasm of those
fierce and ungovernable mountaineers to a pitch of frenzy. When the time
for action came, and Abdel Kader once more led them in person against
the foe, they rushed to the combat more like wild beasts than men, came
at once to close quarters with the French infantry, grappled with them
in single combat, swept through their ranks, and rushed up to the
cannon’s mouth.
The French government, irritated by such prolonged and unexpected
resistance, continued to pour in reinforcements. On the 6th of June,
1836, General Bugeaud landed at the mouth of the Tafna with three fresh
regiments. The attempt to force a passage to Tlemsen was immediately
renewed, and, at last, the point was carried with success. Abdel Kader
fought a long and desperate battle with the invading force on the banks
of the Sikkak, but on this occasion he was completely defeated.
This reverse had its usual effect on the tribes. Many of the cavalry
contingents rode off and returned to their homes. The sudden abandonment
to which Abdel Kader was sometimes exposed, after a defeat, would have
prostrated the energies of a weaker mind, and paralysed a less iron-
moulded will. But such oscillations had long ceased to affect him. He
well knew that whenever Fortune smiled, a wave of his sword would at any
hour bring both waverers and rebels crouching to his feet.
But when he was informed that a certain Sidi Ibrahim had so far
calculated on his present emergency as to excite a revolt against him,
and even to assume the title of sultan, he drew his sword from its
scabbard, hung it to his saddle bow, and vowed never to sheathe it or
descend from his horse till he had the traitor’s head. Appearing almost
singly in the midst of the tribe Beni Amers, among whom he knew the
traitor to be, he demanded his instant delivery. The tribe, startled and
subdued by this act of bold decision, and dreading the charge of
complicity, gave up the rebel Sidi Ibrahim. His head was at once taken
off.
Abdel Kader, by the ceaseless activity of his movements in all
directions, and by the untiring vigilance with which he superintended
his system of blockade, had again reduced the French to the greatest
extremities. They had established posts in the interior, but they could
neither reach them nor communicate with them. Their letters were
intercepted. The bearers of them, when seized, were invariably
decapitated. No friendly tribes brought the French provisions.
Whether at Oran, or at the Tafna, they could only move out in large
bodies, and on such occasions large supplies, beasts of burden, and
means of transport were required. The Douairs and Zmelas, seeking
shelter under the walls of Oran, lived upon the rations scantily doled
out to them by their protectors. At Tlemsen, Cavaignac was buying cats
for his table at 40 francs a head.
In the month of November, 1836, Clausel, who had returned to his post,
undertook the siege of Constantine, the stronghold of Achmet Bey, the
last representative of the Turkish power in Algeria. Abdel Kader
abstained from taking any steps which might thwart the complete
development of that design. Whether the French were successful in their
design or not, he flattered himself that he should be the gainer in the
end. He felt that if the Bey were vanquished, he should be delivered,
without cost or trouble to himself, from a dangerous rival, and that the
Arab tribes of the province of Constantine would then be free to join
his standard. If he were triumphant, the French, wearied out by the
difficulties of their general position in the country, might abandon it;
in which case, a struggle between himself and the Bey for the mastery
would neither be doubtful as to its issue, nor of long duration.
But when the expedition failed, he felt his hour was come. From his
head-quarters at Medea, he issued orders for a simultaneous advance
against all the French possessions between the Atlas and the sea-coast.
In the province of Oran little remained to be effected. But the plain of
the Metija was at his mercy. Thousands of Arabs and Kabyles, supported
by the tribes of Tittery, descended like a torrent from the mountains,
sacking and burning the French colonial establishments, slaying and
capturing the colonists, and carrying terror and dismay into Algiers
itself.
The state to which the French garrisons were now reduced was pitiable.
The utmost ingenuity of their commissariat was daily and hourly taxed to
avert the horrors of famine. Fortunately for the French, they were
relieved from their painful predicament by the speculative genius of a
Jew.
Durand, the Sultan’s wily and influential agent at Algiers, had long
been feasting his imagination with the splendid harvest he should
gather, could he only be constituted sole conductor of commercial
transactions between the contending parties. To this end he had for
months been labouring to convince Abdel Kader that the advantages, even
in a military point of view, to be gained by feeding the French would
far outweigh the value of any glory which might be gained by starving
them.
Authorised to drive the best bargain he could, Durand hurried off to
Oran, and opened a negotiation with General Broussard, who, at that
period, was in command of the garrison.
“The French,” he said, “have need of corn and meat. The Sultan wants
iron, lead, and sulphur. Let each party sell the other what it wants,
and all will be satisfied. You need not fear that you will be in any
degree compromised with the Sultan by such an arrangement. He will not
appear in the matter at all. I will sell you corn and cattle; and you
will sell me iron and sulphur. The Sultan will merely know, indirectly,
that the former articles are for you, and the latter for him. The Sultan
will even go so far as to allow you to re-victual Tlemsen; but as such a
concession would undoubtedly exasperate and disgust the Arabs, to whom
the presence of the French in that town is hateful, he can only take on
himself the odium and responsibility of granting it, on the condition
that all the prisoners taken at the battle of the Sikkak are set free
and sent back to him.”
Broussard at once accepted the proposal. The French again enjoyed the
long unaccustomed luxury of abundance. Abdel Kader, on his side quietly
obtained from his enemies, reduced to assume the garb of friends, the
materials of war, which were hereafter to be wielded against them.
Not only did this singular contract, as it turned out, give him the
means of increasing his aggressive power, but, at the same time, it also
raised his _prestige_. To the sneers of fanatics, who reproached him
with his defeats, and the complaints of whole families, constantly
demanding their lost ones, languishing in the prisons of the infidel, he
could now reply by triumphantly pointing to prisoners arrested from the
victor’s hands, restored to their homes, and able again to take part in
the holy war. Such was the state of affairs when General Bugeaud arrived
from France at Oran, with instructions either to make peace with Abdel
Kader, or to conquer him.
Wishing to try, in the first place, to effect a negotiation, he sent him
the following propositions as a basis of accommodation:—
1. Acknowledgment of the sovereignty of France.
2. Limitation of his territory to the river Cheliff.
3. Payment of tribute.
4. Delivery of hostages, as guarantee for, and the due execution of, any
future treaty which might be agreed on.
Abdel Kader replied, through his agent Durand, that having never
experienced any fatal check, and having amply compensated himself for
any disasters which had temporarily befallen him, he could never consent
to be placed in a position inferior to that which he enjoyed by the
treaty of Desmichels; that Arabs would never hear of living under even
the nominal dominion of Christians; and that if France endeavoured to
place them under it by force she would be embarking in an endless war.
He declared, moreover, that he had not entered the province of Tittery
from any design of his own, but had been summoned thither by the voice
of its inhabitants, and that neither his honour nor his religion would
allow him to abandon those who had thrown themselves on his protection.
He added, that in his opinion the real interest of France was not to
seek an extension of sway over populations irreconcilably hostile to
her, but rather to confine herself to commercial enterprise in the towns
on the sea-coast.
By the voice of his agent, Abdel Kader admitted, however, that he would
consent to allow the French to occupy the Metija, or Plain of Algiers,
with the exception of Blidah, which belonged properly to the mountains,
and that he was willing to yield them all the territory near Oran,
comprised between the Bridia and the Macta. He was ready, moreover, as
he declared, to renounce the monopoly granted him by Desmichels, to
allow complete freedom of commerce, and to guarantee the security, and
repair the losses, if any occurred, of all Frenchmen who chose to settle
in the interior. He would pledge himself, finally, never to give up any
sea-port which was ceded to him to a foreign power.
Bold and dictatorial as such language appeared to the General, he
preferred, under all circumstances, to continue in the path of
concession, rather than to make any resistance which might have
precipitated hostilities. His Government had expressly warned him
against granting Abdel Kader any further extension of territory. The
latter had firmly stated that he would not give up an inch of what he
held. The General yielded, and on his own responsibility, offered to
give up to Abdel Kader the province of Tittery, with the stipulation,
however, that he should consent to be the vassal of France.
The following ultimatum, embodying the terms of this important
compromise, was now drawn up, and forwarded to Abdel Kader. The
circumscribed limits, within which the military representative of the
French Government therein offered to confine his countrymen in Algeria,
constituted a point which was in itself a glorious testimony to the
successful prowess of the great leader who had hitherto rendered barren
all the expeditions which the French had directed against him, and
thwarted all their schemes of conquest.
1. The Emir will recognise the sovereignty of France.
2. France reserves, in the province of Oran, a belt, from ten to twelve
leagues in breadth, beginning at the Rio Salado, and terminating at the
Cheliff. In the province of Algiers, he reserves Algiers, and all the
province of that name. She cedes to the Emir the province of Tittery and
that of Oran, excepting the belt afore-mentioned.
3. The Emir will pay an annual tribute in corn and cattle.
4. There shall be perfect freedom of commerce.
5. All the goods which the French have acquired, or may acquire, in the
country will be guaranteed.
This ultimatum reached Abdel Kader at Medea, where he had already opened
negotiations with General Damremont, the new Governor-General of
Algeria, not without sanguine hopes of a satisfactory result. He now
found himself engaged with two negotiators, both willing to treat with
him on terms highly favourable to his views and expectations. Their zeal
to conclude with him, indeed, amounted to rivalry.
Bugeaud had requested, as a particular favour from his Government, that
to him alone should be reserved the glory of dealing with Abdel Kader.
When, therefore, he learned that Damremont had entered into diplomatic
relations with the Arab Sultan, his jealousy was aroused. He taxed his
superior with exercising an unauthorised and unwarrantable intervention
in a complication, the adjustment of which depended entirely on himself.
A recriminating correspondence took place. Reference was made to the
Minister of War, who decided that Bugeaud was to be left full liberty of
action, without interference or supervision.
As soon as Abdel Kader heard of this decision, he returned to the
province of Oran, and on the 12th of May sent the following propositions
in reply to Bugeaud’s ultimatum:—
1. The Emir acknowledges the sovereignty of France.
2. All the Mussulmans who live outside the towns shall be under his
jurisdiction.
3. The territory of the French to the west of Oran shall be confined to
the country between Bridia and the sea, and extend as far as the Macta.
On the side of Algiers, they will be allowed to hold the country between
that town and the river Beni-Azza.
4. The Emir will give, for this year only, 20,000 measures of corn,
20,000 measures of barley, and 3,000 head of cattle.
5. The Emir shall be empowered to buy, in France, powder, sulphur, and
arms.
6. The Kolouglis who choose to remain in Tlemsen, shall keep their
properties, be under our power, and conform themselves to our land.
7. Those who leave the French territory, or the territory of the Emir,
shall be reciprocally given up on the requisition of the one or the
other party.
8. France cedes to the Emir, Rachgoun, Tlemsen, its citadel, and the
mortars and cannons which anciently belonged to it. The Emir undertakes
to transport the effects of the French garrison to Oran.
9. Commerce shall be free between the Arabs and the French.
10. The French shall be respected amongst the Arabs, as the Arabs
amongst the French.
11. The farms and properties which the French may have acquired in the
Metija shall be guaranteed. They shall enjoy them freely.
In the preceding stipulations, Abdel Kader made no allusion to the
cession of Tittery and Oran. He looked on it as a matter of course,
inasmuch as in the former province the French had not even the shadow of
power; whilst in the latter they only traversed as birds of passage,
flitting from town to town. But, bent on the consolidation of his power,
and the strengthening of his lines of communication, he boldly insisted
on the evacuation, by the French, of Tlemsen, and on their yielding up
the port of Rachgoun.
But he went even still further. Feeling well his vantage-ground, and
seeing the straits to which the French were reduced, he did not hesitate
to require that all Mussulman residing on French territory should be
under his exclusive jurisdiction. In this demand he endeavoured to carry
out and enforce a principle which, in his eyes, was paramount to every
earthly consideration, as based on the very essence of the Koran—the
principle, that under no circumstances, if possible, should any
Mussulman voluntarily acknowledge or submit to Christian rule.
At this period, Abdel Kader approached the zenith of his career.
CHAPTER VIII.
1837.
Nothing more loudly testifies to the immense superiority enjoyed by
Abdel Kader, at this period, than the fact of his being in a position to
advance such pretensions, and make such demands. Their real and evident
meaning was, that he should be acknowledged Sultan of Algeria, whilst
the French lived, as it were, under sufferance, on the outskirts of his
empire, simply enjoying the advantage of trading with his subjects.
It must be borne in mind, at the same time, that Abdel Kader was
perfectly aware of the state of public opinion in France. He subscribed
regularly to the French journals. The debates in the Chambers, and the
leading articles on Algerian affairs, were interpreted to him. He saw
the liberal party cordially approving and supporting the principle laid
down by their chief orator, M. Dupin, who denounced Algiers as a fatal
legacy, bequeathed by the Restoration, which ought to be abandoned,
“if,” as he exclaimed, “we would not see our last man, and our last
sons, swallowed up.”
He gathered, from the general tenor of the passages which were read to
him, that many of the principal politicians in France looked upon
colonisation in Africa as a dream; that they considered all warlike
operations there carried on as so much blood and treasure thrown away;
and that they maintained the true policy of France to be, merely to hold
a few places along the coast for the purpose of preventing piracy, and
cultivating peaceable and honourable relations with the natives.
When, in addition to this, Abdel Kader saw the French Chambers making a
practical comment on such sentiments, by refusing to vote more than
30,000 men for the colony, and learned, that after the disastrous
retreat from Constantine, the opinion in favour of an immediate
evacuation of the country began to prevail more than ever, it is not to
be wondered at if he thought that, by a little pertinacity, and a little
more perseverance, he should succeed in obtaining such terms as would
enable him to realise his cherished idea of founding an independent Arab
kingdom.
The propositions sent in by Abdel Kader seemed, to Bugeaud, so utterly
incompatible with French interests, that he determined to carry out the
second part of his programme,—an appeal to arms. In the beginning of
May, 1837, he assembled his whole force, consisting of 12,000 men, in
the camp of the Tafna, preparatory to offensive operations. When he came
to review his resources, he found the transport service so utterly
inadequate to the occasion, that he was obliged to suspend his march.
To procure animals from the interior was impossible. A supply from
France was not expected. The summer heats, so fatal to soldiers in the
field, were fast approaching. The time fixed for the second siege of
Constantine was at hand, and he had engaged that a large portion of his
little army should be sent round to take part in it. The home government
had made its arrangements in full reliance on the fulfilment of this
pledge. Peace with Abdel Kader, however humiliating, became a necessity.
The latter was informed that the door was still open for negotiation. He
asked leave for a few days’ consideration.
Various reasons conspired to make Abdel Kader anxious to base his
action, in a measure of such importance as that of again making peace
with the French, on an appeal to the wishes of the tribes at large. The
fanatical party accused him of personal ambition, and of sacrificing the
uncompromising principles of the Faith to his own selfish views of
aggrandisement. The restless, the lawless—all, in fact, who preferred
unbridled liberty to the solid advantages springing from a well-
established central power, and who felt that the return of peace would
hand them over unreservedly, and without the power of resistance, to the
master-hand which would soon reduce them to implicit obedience—only
wanted a pretext to assume the cloak of religion, and join the fanatics
in their senseless cry.
With well-timed skill and foresight, Abdel Kader now resolved to cut the
ground from under the feet of both these parties. The demand for peace,
or, rather, the willingness to accept it, ought, he opined, to be looked
on as a national act. A general assembly was summoned to meet on the
banks of the Habra, May 25, 1837; and thither, according to invitation,
came all the great Sheiks, the leaders of cavalry contingents, the
venerable Marabouts, and the most distinguished warriors of the province
of Oran.
The Sultan opened the deliberations in the following words:—“Let no one
amongst you ever accuse me of wanting to make peace with the Christians.
It is for you to decide the question of peace or war.” He then proceeded
to explain the nature of the correspondence, which had taken place
between himself and Bugeaud; the propositions and overtures which had
been made to him, and those he had made in return. In conclusion, he
commented carefully on each of the articles of his own ultimatum, sent
in to the French general on the 12th May.
A long and stormy discussion ensued. The fanatics, and those secretly
indisposed towards the Sultan, were violent in their cries for war. The
Marabouts silenced them by the nicely-drawn discrimination between peace
accepted and peace demanded. The Koran, they said, nowhere inculcated a
useless shedding of blood, when the infidel had submitted, and craved
that the sword might be sheathed. The French had submitted. They begged
for peace. The Sultan had dictated his own terms.
This reasoning prevailed. It was decided by a large majority that the
benefits which would accrue to the commonalty from a state of peace,
justified the giving up of Blidah, and the plain of Algiers, to the
French. A slight extension of the limits to which the Sultan originally
intended to confine them would be no inconvenience to the Arabs,
inasmuch as every Mussulman would be free to emigrate from the French
possessions to the Sultan’s territory. The demand, however, of the
French Government for tribute, was declared to be inadmissible.
Sidi Sekkal was shortly afterwards sent to the French head-quarters on
the Tafna, with the following concessions:—
“1. Blidah abandoned.
“2. Renunciation of all authority over Mussulmans residing on French
territory.
“3. A certain extension of the French boundaries.”
Sidi Sekkal was commissioned, at the same time, to enter into the nature
of the limits proposed, and to give other necessary explanations.
Bugeaud, convinced that further delay would not procure him better
conditions, agreed to everything. Thereupon the following treaty,
celebrated as the “Treaty of the Tafna,” was drawn up and signed by both
parties, May 20th, 1837.
“THE FOLLOWING TREATY HAS BEEN AGREED UPON, BETWEEN LIEUTENANT-GENERAL
BUGEAUD, COMMANDING THE FRENCH TROOPS IN THE PROVINCE OF ORAN, AND THE
EMIR ABDEL KADER.
“Art. 1. The Emir Abdel Kader acknowledges the sovereignty of France.
“Art. 2. France reserves to herself, in the province of Oran,
Mostaganem, Mazagnan, and their territories, Oran, Arzew, and a
territory limited in the following manner:—On the east, by the river
Macta, and the marsh from whence it flows; on the south, by a line
starting from the said marsh, passing by the shore on the south of the
lake, and continuing its prolongation up the Wady Maleh, in the
direction of Sidi Said; and from this river down to the sea, shall
belong to the French. In the province of Algiers, Algiers, the Sahel,
the plain of the Metija, bounded on the east by the Wady Khuddra,
onwards; on the south, by the crest of the first chain of the lesser
Atlas, as far as the Chiffa, including Blidah and its territory; on the
west, by the Chiffa as far as the Mount of Mazagnan, and from thence, in
a direct line to the sea, enclosing Coleah and its territory, shall be
French territory.
“Art. 3. The Emir shall have the administration of the province of Oran,
that of Tittery, and that part of the province of Algiers which is not
comprised on the east, within the limits indicated by Article 2. He
cannot enter any other part of the Regency.
“Art. 4. The Emir shall have no authority over Mussulmans who wish to
reside on the territory reserved to France; but these shall be at
liberty to go and reside on the territory under the Emir’s
administration; in the same manner the inhabitants living under the
Emir’s administration may establish themselves on French territory.
“Art. 5. The Arabs dwelling on French territory shall enjoy the free
exercise of their religion. They may build mosques, and follow their
religious discipline in every particular, under the authority of their
spiritual chiefs.
“Art. 6. The Emir will give to the French army 30,000 measures of corn;
30,000 measures of barley; 5,000 head of oxen. The delivery of these
provisions will be made at Oran, in three instalments; the first, on the
15th September, 1837, and the two others every successive two months.
“Art. 7. The Emir shall be empowered to buy in France, powder, sulphur,
and the arms he requires.
“Art. 8. The Kolouglis who wish to remain in Tlemsen, or elsewhere,
shall have free possession of their properties there, and shall be
treated as citizens. Those who wish to withdraw to French territory, may
sell or rent their properties freely.
“Art. 9. France cedes to the Emir, Rachgoun, Tlemsen, its citadel, and
all the cannons which were anciently in it. The Emir engages to convey
to Oran all the effects, as well as munitions of war, belonging to the
garrison of Tlemsen.
“Art. 10. Commerce shall be free between the Arabs and the French. They
may establish themselves reciprocally, on each other’s territory.
“Art. 11. The French shall be respected amongst the Arabs, as the Arabs
amongst the French. The farms and properties which the French have
acquired, or may acquire, on the Arab territory, shall be guaranteed
them: they shall enjoy them freely, and the Emir engages to indemnify
them for any damages the Arabs may cause them.
“Art. 12. The criminals on both territories shall be reciprocally given
up.
“Art. 13. The Emir engages not to give up any part of the coast to any
foreign power whatever, without the authorisation of France.
“Art. 14. The commerce of the Regency shall only be carried on in French
ports.
“Art. 15. France shall maintain agents near the Emir, and in the towns
under his jurisdiction, to act as intermediaries for French subjects, in
any commercial disputes they may have with the Arabs.
“The Emir will have the same privilege in French towns and seaports.
“Tafna, May 30, 1837.
“The Lieutenant-General commanding at Oran.”
(The Emir’s seal under the Arab text.)
(Bugeaud the General’s seal under the French text.)
Bugeaud had been strictly enjoined by his Government to confine Abdel
Kader to the province of Oran; on no account to cede him the province of
Tittery, and to insist on his paying tribute.
In a letter to the Minister of War, he thus excused himself for having
signed a treaty which violated such orders:—
“You may well suppose that it pained me greatly to be obliged to make up
my mind not to follow your instructions, as regards the limits to be
assigned to the Emir. But that was impossible. Be assured that the peace
I have concluded is better, and is likely to be more durable than any I
could have made by confining Abdel Kader between the Cheliff and
Morocco.”
By this treaty, nevertheless, the French were substantially confined to
a few towns on the sea-coast, with very circumscribed adjacent
territories; whilst all the fortresses and strongholds in the interior
were left in the hands of their triumphant and victorious adversary. In
a word, Abdel Kader thereby possessed two-thirds of Algeria; and in
addition to the immense accession which this splendid triumph had added
to his influence and power, he now earned along with him the advantage
of appearing before the world as the friend and ally of France.
The French generals, who had hitherto followed each other in rapid
succession through the various phases of the war, had sought in vain for
an interview with the illustrious Arab chief, who, whilst he sorely
taxed their military talents, had excited in their breasts feelings of
soldierly admiration. This favour was now vouchsafed to General Bugeaud.
On the 31st of May, 1837, the General, followed by six battalions, with
all his artillery and cavalry, reached the appointed place of
rendezvous. Abdel Kader had not yet arrived. Five hours were passed in
expectation; still nobody appeared. At last, about two o’clock, several
Arabs came up, one after another, bearing various kinds of excuses. The
Sultan had been indisposed. He had set out late. He was thinking of
asking to have the interview postponed till next day. He was not far
off. He was close at hand.
A horseman now came up and begged the General to move on a little; he
would soon meet the Sultan. It was getting late, and the General, who
wished to get his troops back to their camp before dark, advanced. After
marching for more than an hour, he at length came upon the Arab army,
consisting of more than 15,000 cavalry, drawn up in tolerable order, on
an undulating plain. At this moment, Bou Hamedi rode up to him, and
pointed to the spot where the Sultan was surrounded by a large escort,
on a hillock not far off.
In a few minutes more, Abdel Kader and his escort were seen advancing
towards the General. It was an imposing sight. Nearly two hundred Arab
chiefs, on prancing steeds, closed around their Sultan, whose simple
apparel offered a striking contrast to their splendid appointments,
glittering with highly-burnished arms, which flashed and sparkled in the
noon-day sun. Abdel Kader rode a few paces in front, mounted on a
magnificent black charger, which he handled with extraordinary
dexterity, sometimes making it spring with all fours in the air,
sometimes making it walk for several yards on its hind legs, and
evidently seeking to make an impression by his superior horsemanship.
Several Arabs ran by his side, holding his stirrups, and the ends of his
burnous.
General Bugeaud now dashed forward at full gallop, and on reaching the
Emir, shook hands with him. Both alighted, and seating themselves on the
grass, entered into the following conversation.
_Bugeaud._—“Do you know that there are very few generals who would have
dared to make the treaty I have concluded with you? But I have not been
afraid of aggrandising you, and adding to your power, because I felt
assured that you would only employ the great existence which we give you
in ameliorating the condition of the Arab nation, and in maintaining
peace and a good understanding with France.”
_Abdel Kader._—“I thank you for your good sentiments towards me. Please
God, I will make the Arabs happy; and if the peace is ever broken, it
will be no fault of mine.”
_B._—“On this point, I am your security with the King of the French.”
_A._—“You risk nothing in so doing: we have a religion which obliges us
to keep our word. I have never been faithless to mine.”
_B._—“I count on it; and it is in this conviction I offer you my
personal friendship.”
_A._—“I accept your friendship, but let the French beware of listening
to intriguers.”
_B._—“The French are never led by individuals, and it is not the acts of
individuals which can break the peace: it is only the non-execution of
the treaty, or some great act of hostility. As to the culpable acts of
individuals, we will be on our guard against them, or punish them
reciprocally.”
_A._—“Very good. You have only to give me notice, and the guilty shall
be punished.”
_B._—“I recommend to your good offices the Kolouglis who may remain at
Tlemsen.”
_A._—“Be easy on that score; they shall be treated like citizens.”
_B._—“You have promised me that you will locate the Douairs amongst the
Hafras: the country will, perhaps, not be sufficient for them.”
_A._—“They shall be located in such a manner as not to endanger the
maintenance of peace.”
_B._—“Have you ordered commercial relations at Algiers, and around the
towns, to be resumed?”
_A._—“Not yet; but I mean to do so, when you have put me in possession
of Tlemsen.”
_B._—“You must know, I cannot do so until the treaty has been approved
of by the King.”
_A._—“What, then, have not you the power to treat?”
_B._—“Yes; but the treaty must be approved. That is necessary for you,
as a guarantee; for if it was only made by me, any general who might
replace me would be able to undo it; whereas, once approved by the King,
my successor would be obliged to abide by it.”
_A._—“If you do not give me back Tlemsen, in accordance with the
stipulation in the treaty, I do not see the necessity of making peace:
we shall only have a truce.”
_B._—“That is true. But it is you who will be the gainer by the truce;
for, while it lasts, I shall not destroy the crops.”
_A._—“Destroy them, if you like: it will be all the same to me. I will
give you my full permission, in writing, to destroy all you can. It will
only be a very small quantity you can get at, and the Arabs will still
have abundance of grain.”
_B._—“I don’t think the Arabs are of the same opinion.”
Abdel Kadir now asked how long it would be before the confirmation of
the treaty arrived from France.
_B._—“About three weeks.”
_A._—“That is rather long. At all events, we cannot reestablish our
commercial relations until after the King’s approbation shall have
arrived. Then the peace will be definitive.”
_B._—“It is only your co-religionists who will be the sufferers; for you
will be depriving them of a commerce of which they stand in need. As for
us, we can get all we want by sea.”
The General, not wishing to prolong the interview, as it was getting
late, rose to take leave. Abdel Kader remained sitting, and affected to
be engaged with his interpreter, who was standing beside him. Bugeaud,
suspecting his motive, took him familiarly by the hand, and pulled him
up, saying at the same time, “_Parbleu_, when a French General rises,
you may as well rise too—you!”
Thus ended this singular meeting, at which the French General had merely
gratified an idle, though pardonable, curiosity; but which, from the
premeditated delays and misunderstandings that immediately preceded it,
gave Abdel Kader the immense advantage of appearing in the eyes of his
countrymen as a grand personage, who kept even the leaders of the
infidels awaiting his good pleasure and convenience. Abdel Kader, after
shaking the General again by the hands, now vaulted into his saddle; and
both armies moved off the ground to the strains of martial music, the
Arabs shouting enthusiastically—“Long live our Sultan, Abdel Kader! may
God ever make him victorious!”
CHAPTER IX.
1838.
The Treaty of the Tafna was warmly applauded by the French Government,
who regarded it as a master-stroke of policy. The French people looked
on it as a humiliation. The former boasted that Abdel Kader from being
an enemy had been transformed into an ally. The latter saw in it the
criminal surrender of a French province to a rival power. To Abdel Kader
it was the corner-stone of the edifice he had so long been laboriously
and perseveringly constructing.
For years a double duty had been imposed on him—on the one hand, that of
moulding into shape and consistency the discordant materials which lay
scattered around him, appeasing feuds, allaying discords, and quelling
insurrections; on the other, that of boldly confronting the formidable
attacks of an enemy, immeasurably his superior in all the means and
appliances which raise war to the dignity of a science. Relieved from
external pressure, he was enabled to grapple with his whole and
undivided strength against internal difficulties.
He now stood face to face with a people who looked on their emancipation
from a foreign yoke as the signal for unbounded licence, whose only idea
of liberty was freedom from restraint, and who, while they recognised
and even obeyed the genius which had risen up amongst them, when
directed against their foes, shunned and dreaded it when brought to bear
upon themselves. Whole tribes of Arabs, now freed from the harassing
excitement, the heavy demands, the constant liabilities, the ever-
recurring hazards and uncertainties of a state of war, seemed bent on
resuming, each in its little sphere, a separate and independent
existence.
Thinking only of their selfish and individual interests, and unable to
comprehend that a continuance of their newly-acquired independence could
only be upheld by a continuation of those sacrifices which had enabled
them to achieve it, these little democracies could see no use or
occasion for a central government, and grudged contributing towards the
expenses necessary to support it.
The extensive organisation which Abdel Kader contemplated, which he was
already carrying out, and which could alone consolidate a power capable
of permanently resisting external attacks—and in his keen foresight he
felt that they were only temporarily suspended—manifestly required the
enforcement of certain imports throughout the vast extent of country now
committed to his charge.
The short-sightedness and avarice of the Arabs prevented them from
seeing any such necessity, and although Abdel Kader never in his life
exacted from his subjects more than the _ashur_ and the _zekka_ (all
other imports, including custom-house duties, being held in abomination
by the Koran), yet the recusants had a line of argument always ready to
exonerate themselves from the obligation of paying taxes.
“They wanted,” they said, “no legislature; they could manage their own
concerns. If the war should break out again, then it would be time
enough for the Sultan to call on them to pay their contributions, but
why were they to pay them in time of peace? That the Turks should have
been always craving for money was natural and comprehensible. The Turks
had harems of a hundred women each, dancing girls, hybrid boys, and all
sorts of combinations of profligate expenditure to maintain.”
“The name of a Turk,” they argued, “was, and is, and ever will be, as
long as the pest exists, the synonym for villainy and corruption. But
what did Abdel Kader want with money? He had only one wife. His days and
nights, when not at war, were spent in study and prayer. His gardens at
Cachero were more than enough to defray all his expenses.”
Abdel Kader made short work with such of these reasoners as were within
his reach. Their doctrine of resistance was never permitted to be more
than a grumbling theory. But in the distant provinces, which had lately
been consigned to him, and over which he had hitherto only exercised the
influence inherent to his great deeds, that doctrine had in many parts
assumed shape and substance.
In the southern parts of the provinces of Tittery, his demands for the
usual contributions were peremptorily rejected, and a league was formed
to resist their payment, headed by one Ibn Mochtar, a chief from the
Sahara, near Boghar; the Beni Mochtar, the Beni Nail, the Beni Mousa,
the Beni Abid, the Zenekara, presented a formidable confederacy. Abdel
Kader saw that he had not a moment to lose. He felt that he must at once
crush the opposition, or resign his sceptre.
Summoning contingents from his faithful tribes in the province of Oran,
so as to form an effective force of 8,000 cavalry and 1,000 infantry, he
ordered Ibn Allal, his Khalifa at Miliana, to meet him in the country of
the Zenakera, with all the regulars and irregulars under his command.
The whole force when assembled constituted an array of 12,000 cavalry
and 2,000 infantry, with some pieces of cannon.
On his way to the place of rendezvous, he passed by Mascara. His wife,
who had not seen him for many months, sent messengers begging him to
turn aside, though only for a day. He stoically replied, he was wedded
to his country, and went on. Such was the intensity of his purpose and
the all-absorbing influence of his devotion to his duty, that more than
two years at one time elapsed without his allowing himself time to go
and see his family.
Before resorting to force, Abdel Kader attempted persuasion. He wrote a
letter to the disaffected tribes, in which he conjured them, in the name
of the Prophet, to obey the law; to imitate the tribes of the north and
west in their obedience, and to beware of the pernicious counsels of
designing men. In the same document he promised to overlook the past,
if, returning to better sentiments, they came and presented themselves
before him with “horses of submission.” “Do not trust in the number of
your warriors,” he concluded, “for were the number double I should
overcome them; God is with me, and Him I obey. Do not flatter yourselves
you can escape me. I swear you are no more to me than a glass of water
in the hands of a thirsty man.”
The letter had no effect, and Abdel Kader advanced to the attack. The
battle lasted for three days. Finally the rebels gave way, and
dispersed. The Beni Antar held out for some days behind entrenchments
which they had thrown up, over what they conceived to be impregnable
heights, in the fastnesses near Boghar; but they also were ultimately
reduced. Ibn Mochtar surrendered, and, coming in person, craved the
Sultan’s mercy. Not only did he obtain grace, but, to his surprise, he
was named the Sultan’s Khalifa over the subdued tribes. He was ever
afterwards one of Abdel Kader’s most faithful adherents.
Success, as usual, was followed by fresh submissions. All the tribes
along the southern frontiers of the province of Constantine sent
deputies to the Sultan, inviting him to come amongst them. His
moderation and good faith, as well as his loyal adhesion to the treaty
of the Tafna, alone prevented him carrying his standards to the walls of
Constantine itself.
Abdel Kader now returned to Medea. His entry was triumphal. For miles
ere he reached the gates, the road was thronged with thousands who had
flocked from all the villages round about to feast their eyes on the
mighty chief whose fame had long been made familiar to their
imaginations. Shouts of “Long live our victorious Sultan Abdel Kader!”
resounded in the distance, and heralded from afar his approach to the
city. There fresh tokens of enthusiasm awaited him. Garlands of flowers
were strewn on his path, and perfumed waters sprinkled on his head. He
rode straight to the mosque, entered, prayed, and preached. For weeks
presents and offerings poured in from all parts. The great Sheiks, the
Marabouts, the Cadis of Tittery, and several even from Oran, headed by
the Khalifas of districts, came in state to offer their congratulations
to the victorious Sultan. It was now considered by many that Abdel Kader
had reached the pinnacle of greatness. He himself was seriously
contemplating a retirement into private life. But much remained to be
done before he could conscientiously resign the task he had sworn to
accomplish.
His whole attention was now turned towards an obstacle which had long
chafed and ruffled his soaring spirit. Far away to the south of the
great Sahara, in the province of Laghouat, about two hundred miles from
Oran, ranged ten powerful and numerous tribes, called the Beni Arasch.
They had hitherto, amidst all the battle and turmoil which had been
raging in the north, kept coolly aloof from the exciting contest in
which their countrymen had been engaged. Abdel Kader had frequently
summoned them to send their cavalry contingents, but in vain.
Their principal chief and Marabout, El Hadj Mohammed ibn Salem il
Tejini, refused altogether to entertain the idea that there was to be an
Arab Sultan in the land. He accordingly left all Abdel Kader’s letters
unanswered, and disdained even to receive his orders for the delivery,
to his agent, of the legal contributions; secure, as he thought, in his
distance, his fortress, and his sands, he set Abdel Kader at defiance.
His confidence, at the same time, was increased by his possession of a
town, strongly fortified after the fashion of the Arabs, called Ain
Maadi.
This place had been repeatedly besieged by the Turks, and with repeated
failures. In 1826, the brother of Tejini had even attacked the Turks in
their turn, and had menaced Mascara. Already had he gained a footing in
the town, when Hassan Bey, of Oran, came to its relief. Tejini drew off
his forces to the plain of Eghrees, and there gave his adversary battle,
but was defeated and slain. Hassan advanced on Ain Maadi; but Hadj
Mohammed, who had succeeded his brother in the command of the tribes,
compelled him to retire. From that day, Mohammed Tejini had comported
himself as a small independent sovereign.
Ain Maadi contained only three hundred houses; but it had its kasbah, or
serail, and was surrounded by thick walls, flanked with towers. Gardens
spread around it; and these, also, were capable of defence. The spring
of Ain Maadi, from which the town took its name, though at some
distance, poured its limpid stream, by means of a canal, into the
kasbah. Wells of rain water supplied the wants of the inhabitants.
Abdel Kader was still at Medea, when a certain Hadj Aissa, of Laghouat,
came, accompanied by several chiefs of the Beni Arasch, to offer him
presents, and “horses of submission.” The Hadj announced, that owing to
the influence he exercised over the majority of those tribes, they most
of them desired to acknowledge Abdel Kader as their Sultan, and that he
had only to show himself amongst them to be joyfully received. Abdel
Kader, flattered by an adhesion which gave so satisfactory a testimony
to the influence of his name in the province of Laghouat, appointed the
Hadj his Khalifa over that oasis of the south, gave him proclamations
for distribution, in which he called on the Beni Arasch to obey his
lieutenants, and dismissed him with the assurance that he would shortly
come in person to receive the proffered allegiance.
The time had now come when he could strike a blow at Tejini. On the 12th
of June, 1838, he advanced towards Ain Maadi at the head of 6,000
cavalry, 3,000 infantry, six mortars, and three field-pieces. The place
was reached after a tedious march of ten days over large sandy wastes.
Tejini, taken by surprise, and having made no preparations for
sustaining a siege, had barely time to shut the gates and, organise, as
well as he could, the 600 Arabs who were at the moment within its walls.
For some time he attempted to defend the gardens with skirmishers led
out at night, and able, by their knowledge of the localities, to harass
the enemy in his approaches. These endeavours gradually failed. The
besieged were confined within their ramparts. The Sultan ordered all the
trees to be cut down. Batteries were erected in the spaces thus
obtained; and the fire commenced. On the fourth day, the European
engineer, who commanded this operation, declared the breach that had
been made to be practicable. A storming party was told off; but on the
morrow, the breach was found to have been repaired. Again and again the
process of breaching and repairing was mutually effected.
On the fifteenth day, Abdel Kader challenged Tejini to come out and
fight him in presence of both armies drawn up to witness the encounter;
and proposed that the fate of the place should depend on the result.
Tejini, though young and brave, prudently declined the test. Abdel Kader
now commenced mining. The mine in due time reached the walls. Tejini
made a countermine; and in these mines several serious encounters took
place.
In this manner the siege was prolonged for months; the brave defenders,
the while, were eking out their existence from their small stores of
corn and barley, which now barely sufficed to keep them from starvation.
The besiegers, on their side, were dependent for their supplies on the
arrival of convoys from the north; and these convoys, even, were liable
to be intercepted. More than 2,000 cavalry were constantly employed for
their protection through the Sahara. Hadj Aissa was of no use whatever.
He turned out to be an impostor.
Both sides were at last perishing from sheer exhaustion. Their
ammunition was all but expended. The anxiety of Abdel Kader was intense.
He had often before been in straits and difficulties; but never had he
been engaged in a struggle which involved more important consequences.
He well knew that if he acknowledged himself baffled by raising the
siege, he should have all the Sahara on his hands; and he declared he
would die on the spot, rather than give in.
At this critical juncture, Abdel Kader had the unexpected satisfaction
of receiving some fresh supplies of ammunition, and three siege pieces,
from his French allies. A diplomatic difficulty had arisen as to the
right interpretation of a certain article in the treaty of the Tafna;
and the Governor-General hoped to gain the Sultan’s compliance with his
version of the disputed passage, by thus generously aiding him in his
extremity. This opportune assistance turned the scales, which were still
trembling in the balance.
Tejini surrendered. On the 17th of November, 1838, a treaty was signed
between him and Mustapha ibn Taamy, the Sultan’s brother-in-law. By this
treaty, the former engaged to evacuate the Ain Maadi in eight days, and
to retire thence with his family and his immediate followers to
Laghouat. His eldest son was to remain as a hostage in the Sultan’s
camp. Abdel Kader, at the expiration of the term, rased the town to the
ground. Two tribes of the Beni Arasch, in the immediate vicinity, at
once sent in the _ashur_ and the _zekka_. The other tribes still
refused. A terrible retribution awaited them.
The following dispatch, announcing the success of Abdel Kader, was
forwarded to Hadj il Taib, his agent at Oran:—
“God having given us the mission to watch over the welfare of
Mussulmans, and to take on us the direction of all the people in this
land, submissive to the law of our Lord Mohammed (prayer and salutation
be to him), we marched into the Sahara—not to harm the true believers,
not to humble and destroy them—but to awaken their faith, to consolidate
them into a common bond of union, and to establish order.
“All listened to our voice, and obeyed as much as circumstances would
permit. El Tejini alone refused. We found ourselves face to face with
those who had been seduced by him. They were preparing to fight us. We
conjured them, for the love of God and the Prophet, to come over to us.
To this effect, we recalled to their minds several passages of the
sacred writings. All was in vain. We despaired of their conversion. Yet
we feared that if we were indulgent to them, we should miss the object
we have solely in view. This object is, to rally all the Arabs round one
common centre, to instruct the ignorant in the law of the Prophet, to
prevent the spread of evil examples amongst them, to preserve them from
the corrupting influences of certain towns, and to enable them, their
wives, and children, to live in peace and security.
“Therefore, exercising our sovereign right, and moreover being the
injured party, we ordered our victorious soldiers to fight them.
Religion ordained it. They fled before our troops. Again we entreated
them to listen to us. Again they refused. Tejini declared that he
counted on the strength of his ramparts and the courage of his
followers. Then the place was closely besieged. Our miners having
reached the foot of the walls, the inhabitants, in consternation, prayed
for pardon and deliverance. Although they had deceived us more than
once, both were accorded them; for the Most High has said, ‘Pardon and
forget.’ We hope that he will remember our conduct on this occasion, and
have mercy upon us for the sake of the blood we have spared, and the
women whose chastity we have protected.
“Pardon was granted to all the inhabitants on condition that they should
leave the town and go and reside elsewhere, wherever they chose. All
have left. Tejini, with his harem and children, have gone to Laghouat,
but his eldest son remains a hostage in our hands. May God ever grant us
the victory, and preserve us from misfortune.
“Oh Mussulmans, pray to God for your Sultan. He only labours for your
welfare. Rejoice, and call on God to strengthen and confirm him. Trust
in the Divine mercy. Read the chapter of the Koran, ‘Amran,’ and say,
‘Oh Thou that rulest the universes, Thou givest and takest away
according to Thy will, and Thou choosest and Thou raisest up, at Thy
good pleasure. In Thy hands is all good. Thou alone art all powerful.
Thou changest the night into day, and the day into night. Thou bringest
forth life from the midst of death. Without any effort, Thou prosperest
whomsoever Thou wilt.’ Oh Mussulmans, seek not protectors from among the
Infidel, only look for them amongst the true believers.”
Abdel Kader returned to Mascara. But the defiant attitude and hostile
demonstrations of the Beni Arasch, who had already had the audacity to
attack his convoys, preyed upon his mind. He had, moreover, indubitable
proofs that they had been in correspondence with the French. By the
rules of the Koran, they deserved death. After allowing his troops a few
weeks’ repose, he announced an expedition; 5,000 cavalry, and cavalry
alone, were ordered to hold themselves in readiness.
On the day appointed, they assembled on the plain of Eghrees. None knew
or guessed what was to be the nature or direction of the expedition. It
was the depth of winter. Each man had been ordered to supply himself
with a bag of corn and a bag of barley, and no more. No mules nor tents
were required. At sunset Abdel Kader appeared, mounted his horse, and
led his forces at a brisk trot towards the north-west.
It soon became dark. Four men in advance carried lanterns affixed to the
points of their spears. The lanterns were lighted, and muffled in front,
but their rays streamed far away to the rear, over the cavalcade.
Suddenly a countermarch was directed, and the party bore off towards the
south-east. The previous direction had been a feint. At midnight the
troops of the expedition reached a rivulet. All dismounted. The horses
were fed. Abdel Kader and his men ground their corn as well as they
could, between stones, and making a paste of flour and water, partook of
food. After a rest of three hours the troops were directed to remount.
Again they rode on at a brisk trot, which occasionally broke into a
canter, till mid-day. Then another short halt was made, and then again
the expedition rode on as before till near midnight, and then only were
food and rest once more taken. Thus they pursued their way for four days
and nights.
As dawn broke on the morning of the fifth day, the vast encampments of
the Beni Arasch burst upon their view, spreading away to the horizon.
More than ten thousand tents covered the plains. The Arabs were
sleeping. A wild and prolonged shout roused them from their slumbers.
They rushed out to learn the cause, and saw to their dismay a crowd of
cavalry swooping down upon them like a whirlwind.
Frantic cries of “Abdel Kader, Abdel Kader!” now filled the air. The
women and children ran about screaming. The men, amazed and bewildered,
appeared to have lost their senses. Some flew instinctively to their
arms, others took to their horses. But before they could collect, form,
or rally, the storm was on them. “Spare the harems,” cried Abdel Kader,
as he led on the onslaught, “but as for those dogs, treat them as they
deserve.”
Driving the Beni Arasch before them like a flock of sheep, charging and
chasing them in all directions, Abdel Kader and his cavalry soon
succeeded in securing the principal Sheiks. Moved by their piteous
entreaties and solemn assurances of future good conduct, Abdel Kader
mercifully refrained from inflicting capital punishment. The tribes,
however, were compelled to pay up, on the spot, five years’ arrears of
the _ashur_ and the _zekka_, and to furnish a contribution of 4,000
camels and 30,000 sheep. Warned by this example, the Beni Arasch became
ever after Abdel Kader’s most faithful adherents, and remained constant
to him to the last.
CHAPTER X.
1838.
The facility with which the French had taken possession of Mascara and
Tlemsen, convinced Abdel Kader of the necessity of having strongholds
beyond the easy reach of their incursions. The plan which he projected
and carried into effect had the double object of resisting the French
invasion, and of cementing his own authority over the Arabs. It bears
the highest testimony to his military genius. No better explanation of
this design can be given than in the words which Abdel Kader addressed
in after times to General Daumas, who had for three years resided at his
head-quarters in the capacity of consul.
“With the twofold view of imposing on the turbulent tribes of the
Sahara, and keeping myself beyond the reach of your attacks, I had
constructed on the limits of the Tell, at great expense and amidst
innumerable difficulties, a certain number of forts, which you
afterwards destroyed. They were situated, in setting out from the west,
at Sebdou; to the south of Tlemsen, at Saida; to the south of Mascara,
at Tekedemt; to the south-east of the same town, at Taza; to the south
of Miliana, at Boghar; to the south of Medea, at Bel Kherout, south-east
of Algiers; and, lastly, at Biskra, to the south of Constantine.
“I was convinced, in fact, that whenever the war re-commenced, I should
be obliged to abandon to you all the towns of the central line of the
Atlas; but that it would be impossible for you, at least for a long
time, to reach the Sahara; because the transports which encumber your
armies would be a great obstacle in your way. Marshal Bugeaud proved to
me that I was mistaken; but at the time I had only the experience of my
action with his predecessors.
“Nevertheless, even in face of the system pursued by Marshal Bugeaud,
you would have found almost insurmountable difficulties in trying to
reach my true line of defence, if the Arabs had only agreed to my
proposition of rasing to the ground, and utterly destroying, the towns
of Medea, Miliana, Mascara, and Tlemsen: that is to say, the steps of
the ladder by which you gradually mounted so high.
“Some argued that the French would soon re-build what I had destroyed;
others, that it would be cruel to throw down, merely in view of an
eventuality, what it had cost so much to erect. Both sides were wrong: I
ought to have followed out my own inspiration.
“Tekedemt, according to my project, was to have become a large town—a
binding centre of commerce—between the Tell and the Sahara. The Arabs
were pleased with its situation. They came there with much pleasure,
because it afforded them great advantages. It was also a thorn I had
placed in the eye of the independent tribes of the desert. They could
neither escape me, nor incommode me. I held them by their bodily wants.
The Sahara producing no crops, they would have been obliged to come to
me for food. I had built Tekedemt over their heads. They felt it, and
hastened to make their submission.
“In fact, from this time, I could always come upon them unexpectedly
with my _goums_ (irregular cavalry), and at least carry off their flocks
and herds, if I did not stop to take their tents. The severe examples I
made of some of the most distant tribes soon made them give up all hopes
of being able to elude me. Thus all had finished by submitting to my
authority, and regularly paying the _ashur_ and the _zekka_. I used even
to send and count their flocks, and they said not a word.
“There are only four points in the desert which my authority had not
reached: Mzab, Ourgla, Tougourt, and the Souf. The Benis Sidi Cheikh,
however, had all acknowledged me. It is true I had granted them certain
privileges, and I allowed them to pay a reduced impost; but they were a
tribe of Marabouts, and it was my duty to pay them a certain degree of
deference. As to the _ksours_ (entrenched villages in the Sahara), they
paid me little; nor did I care to be strict with them. They looked on my
forbearance as a concession to their poverty. At a later period,
however, I should have made them amenable to my orders, and have brought
them into complete subjection.”
Tekedemt, the town which Abdel Kader raised from its ruins, intending to
make it the capital of his kingdom, had been built by the Romans. It is
situated sixty miles to the south-east of Oran. Judging from the remains
of its walls, it must have been ten miles in circumference. It contained
two large temples. During the prosperous days of Arab dominion in
Algeria, it was a seat of government, had a college, and produced its
doctors and poets. The wars between the Caliphs of Kerouan and Fez,
towards the close of the tenth century, doomed it to final destruction
and oblivion.
The first stone of the new fortress was laid by Abdel Kader in May,
1836. He himself supplied the plans for the fortifications which were to
surround it. He remitted the payment of tribute to all the tribes within
a certain distance, on the condition of their sending labourers to
assist in the construction of the ramparts. The people of Mascara
brought baskets, shovels, and pickaxes. Medea and Miliana sent supplies
of cheese and fruits of all kinds, which, with excellent white bread,
and occasionally meat rations, formed the food and wages of the workmen.
Soon houses and streets arose. A population poured in. Families of
Arabs, of Moors, of Kolouglis, from Mascara, Mazagnan, and Mostaganem,
came and settled. Old Roman vaults were turned into stores for
ammunition, sulphur, saltpetre, brass, lead, and iron; and for all the
machines, implements, and utensils which Miloud-ibn-Arasch had bought in
France for the sum of £4,000. A musket manufactory turned out eight
muskets a day, the work of French mechanics procured from Paris at
liberal salaries.
A mint struck off silver and copper coins, ranging in value from five
shillings to twopence, and bearing on one side the inscription, “It is
the will of God: I have appointed him my agent;” on the other, “Struck
at Tekedemt, by the Sultan Abdel Kader.” Finally, twelve pieces of
cannon and six mortars frowned from the ramparts; and the defences were
complete.
Abdel Kader superintended all the works by constant personal inspection.
M. de France, who was one of his prisoners during the time that these
works were in their highest activity, thus describes what he saw:—“After
having visited the ruins, we came to a redoubt which Abdel Kader was
erecting at about two hundred paces from his citadel. We approached the
Sultan, who was reclining, in company with Ibn About, his secretary, and
Miloud-ibn-Arasch, on the ground recently thrown up from a ditch which
some men were busily digging.
“His costume is so simple, that one can hardly distinguish him from the
labourers. He wore a large straw hat, plaited with palm leaves. The
brim, tied up to the body of the hat with woollen cords and tassels,
must have been three feet in circumference. The hat itself was at least
a foot and a half in height, and looked like a tunnel terminating in a
peak.
“As I passed the Sultan, he saluted me with that incomparable grace and
fascinating smile for which he is so remarkable, and waved his hand for
me to be seated. ‘To judge by the ruins,’ I remarked, ‘the town which
was formerly here must have been large and flourishing.’ ‘Yes, it was
very fine and very powerful,’ he answered. ‘Does the epoch of its
foundation remount to a very ancient date?’ ‘Tekedemt is a very ancient
town.’ ‘Do you think I shall be able to discover any stones with
inscriptions?’ ‘You will find none. This town was never Christian. It
was one of the first cities built by the Arabs. The sultans, my
ancestors, who had their residence at Tekedemt, ruled from Tunis to
Morocco.’
“The Sultan then asked me what I thought of the construction of the
fortifications. I replied that they appeared to me to be well
proportioned and ably laid out, and that it was evident he had profited
by a critical examination of our block-houses. He seemed quite pleased
with my answer.
“‘Yes,’ he resumed, ‘with animation, I hope yet to restore Tekedemt to
its ancient splendour. I will gather the tribes in this place, where we
shall be secure from the attacks of the French; and when all my forces
are collected, I will descend from this steep rock, like a vulture from
his nest, and drive the Christians out of Algiers, Bona, and Oran.
“‘If, indeed, you were content with those cities, I would suffer you to
remain there; for the sea is not mine, and I have no ships. But you want
our plains and our inland cities, and our mountains. Nay, you even covet
our horses, our tents, our camels, and our women; and you leave your own
country to come and take that in which Mohammed has placed his people.
But your sultan is not a horseman or a saint; and your horses will
stumble and fall on our mountains, for they are not surefooted like our
horses; and your soldiers will die of sickness; and those whom the
pestilence spares, will fall by our bullets.’”
Had Abdel Kader been allowed time to complete his intentions, it was his
design to have made Tekedemt not merely a place of strength, but a seat
of learning; to have established a library and founded a college. “But,”
to use his own expression, “God did not so will it. The books which I
had brought from all parts of the east for this institution, were taken
when the king’s son seized my smala; and to my other misfortunes was
added that of being able to mark the traces of the French column, on
their return to Medea, by the torn and scattered leaves of the books
which it had cost me so much time and pains to collect.”
During the years 1838 and 1839 Abdel Kader pushed on his plans of reform
and improvement with wonderful rapidity. His army, his police, his
schools, his local tribunals of justice, were all fully constituted. His
projected fortresses were completed. Manufactories conducted by
Europeans were in full operation in all his principal towns. At Tlemsen,
a Spaniard superintended a cannon foundry, which turned out twelve and
six pounders.
In Miliana, an eminent French mineralogist, M. de Casse, established a
musket manufactory and powder-mills. Iron was procured from a mine in
the neighbourhood. Cloth of superior quality was also manufactured.
Mines of saltpetre, sulphur, iron, and brass, were diligently worked.
Europeans were invited to come and settle in the country, with the right
of holding freehold property. The land seemed to be waking up from a
long slumber. The spirit of European civilisation everywhere percolated
the torpid mass, lighting up the dark places, and piercing its way into
the strongholds of ignorance and superstition.
The irregular force at Abdel Kader’s disposal, during the early part of
his career, amounted nominally to nearly 60,000 men. This included all
the contingents which the tribes could, on emergency, supply. But rarely
more than a third of that number ever assembled at one time, for the
purpose of carrying out a military operation. A finer irregular cavalry
did not exist.
But Abdel Kader soon discovered the incompetency of such warriors to
compete with the disciplined legions of the great military power he
confronted. But to raise regular troops amongst a people who, even in
the days of Turkish rule, had never been harassed by a conscription, and
whose nature revolted at the very idea, was a hazardous experiment,
requiring great tact and circumspection. Such a design could only be
hinted at as a suggestion, not promulgated as a command.
Accordingly, the following friendly invitation was posted up in all the
towns and douairs:—“Whoever wishes to be clothed in fine cloth, and to
become the son of the Sultan, let him come and engage himself: he shall
be well paid, and indulged in everything.” Several young men were
tempted by the inducement thus held out to present themselves for
enlistment; and the formation of a regular army almost imperceptibly
began.
Abdel Kader thus describes his military organisation:—“Besides the
contingents of tribes who rallied at my call, or that of my Khalifas,
and which constituted a powerful auxiliary force, although merely
temporary, inasmuch as I was never able to keep them away from their
tribes for any great length of time, I had latterly a regular army of
8,000 infantry, 2,000 cavalry or spahis, and 240 artillerymen. I had
twenty field-pieces, without reckoning a large store of cannons both in
iron and brass left by the Turks, many of which, however, it is true,
were unfit for service.
“I could thus afford to give each of my Khalifas 1,000 infantry, 250
horsemen, two or three pieces of cannon, and thirty artillerymen. My
infantry was recruited only by volunteers; but they were sufficient,
considering my pecuniary means and the arms at my disposal. Later, if
time had been afforded me, I should have used the French mode of raising
soldiers. My religion would not have prevented me, for a Sultan may have
recourse to enrolments to sustain the honour of his flag, and to save
his country from Christian invasion.
“The instructors of my regular infantry were soldiers of the _nizam_,
from Tunis and Tripoli, and French deserters. The latter became so
numerous at last as to form a battalion of themselves, and fought
against their own countrymen with a fury and desperation which was
hardly rivalled by my own Mussulmans. I distributed them amongst my
Khalifas.
“As for my regular cavalry, they refused to be placed under instructors.
In their style of war they were led by an independent pride which
disdained to acknowledge a master. They knew they were worth nothing for
a shock; but they thought themselves unrivalled in single combat, in
ambuscade, surprise, and light skirmishing. It was no dishonour to them
to fly before even inferior forces; their flight being often a mere
feint. To do as much injury as possible to the enemy without exposing
themselves to loss—that was the principle I inculcated on them.
“All my regulars were armed with French or English muskets. I got them
in battles, from deserters, or by purchase from Morocco. Every Arab
found with a French musket in his possession, was obliged to sell it to
me for a sum amounting to two English pounds sterling. He then provided
himself with a _fusil_ as best he could, either in the bazaars, or, when
the tribe of the desert, coming to the Tell, inundated the country with
arms from Tunis, from Tougourt, from the Mzab, and the Oulad-Sidi-
Cheikh. I made my own powder at Tlemsen, Mascara, Miliana, Medea, and
Tekedemt. I bought a good deal, also, from Morocco, where I also
procured flints, of which our own country was completely destitute.
Sulphur came from France. Saltpetre I found everywhere.
“During the peace, the French sea-coast towns supplied me with lead;
Morocco yielded me a considerable quantity; and I worked a lead mine in
the Ouarsenis. But all this was very costly; so I was very sparing in my
distribution of the stores of the Beylik amongst the Arabs, who squander
away their powder without reflection, in their festivities and games. I
only deviated from this principle in favour of those who were employed
in blockading the French garrisons, or when, on the field of battle, the
ammunition ran short. I then distributed cartridges on the spot.
“At the seat of government of each of my Khalifas, I had placed tailors,
armourers, and saddlers, to make the clothing of my troops, repair their
arms, and keep up their horse-equipments. I had also distributed many
such workmen amongst the tribe, so as to make them also ready and
efficient at a moment’s call. To meet the expenses of my administration,
where everything had to be created, and though confining myself to what
was strictly necessary, heavy imposts were indispensable.
“I ordered my Khalifas to watch, personally, over everything connected
with such an important matter. They made their tours twice a-year; once
in the spring to collect the _zekka_, and during the harvest to gather
the _ashur_. During these tours, they were expected to inspect and
regulate the administration of the Aghas, to report to me any complaints
made against them, and to superintend the working of the properties of
the Beylik.
“My Khalifas were followed by a regular battalion, their Spahis, and
their irregular cavalry. The Arab people are so constituted, that if
they had not seen a display of force, they would have refused to pay the
impost. After a temporary defeat, what difficulty have I not often
experienced to raise again the proper return of contributions! ‘The
Sultan,’ they would say, ‘is occupied with the Christians; he cannot
compel us. Do not let us pay; let us see what will happen.’ What
invariably happened was, that they had eventually to pay up everything,
with arrears; but nothing corrected them. The Arabs only look to the
present moment.
“At the same time that I demanded from the tribes what was necessary to
support the Beylik, I endeavoured, as much as possible, to reconcile
their interests with those of the State. My Khalifas were instructed to
accept, in lieu of the impost or of fines, articles for consumption,
mules, camels, and especially horses. With the horses I remounted my
cavalry; the mules and camels gave me means of transport; with the
provisions, I supplied my troops, or filled my magazines.
“My resources were also augmented by _razzias_, which I made whenever
the tribes appealed to arms to fight out their differences. I was
resolved to be the sole arbiter of these differences, and I had laid it
down as a rule, that not a shot should be fired without my permission.
The horses, mules, or camels which I did not immediately require were
distributed amongst the tribes, under the charge of agents, who, while
they were liberally paid, were so checked, as to be unable to defraud.
“It was well I looked to the future; for the number of horses I had to
replace in my regular cavalry was immense. There is not a man amongst
these troops who had not had seven or eight horses killed under him, or
rendered unserviceable. Indeed, it was not uncommon to find men who had
lost from twelve to sixteen. Ibn Yahia—that noble soldier who, rather
than survive my misfortunes, threw himself on certain death, in my last
battle with the Maroccians (Dec., 1847)—had had eighteen horses killed
under him. The emulation in this point was such, that any horseman who
passed a year without being wounded or having a horse killed under him,
was looked on with contempt.
“As far as lay in my power, I also replaced the horses which my _goums_,
or irregular cavalry contingents, lost in battle. They have had from me
more than six thousand. But latterly, when I could no longer give them
horses, I allowed them, in lieu of a horse, two camels, or thirty sheep,
or a good mule. They sold those animals, and then with the price
remounted themselves at their leisure. But, at last, I became so
straitened as not even to be able to give them this indemnity.
“To form an idea of the consumption of horses—in one year alone I gave
500 to the Gharabas of Oran, and nearly as many to the Hagouts in the
plains of Algiers. At the same time, there were many which I never
attempted to replace, either because their proprietors were rich, or
because I had no longer the means.
“The flocks and cattle which came from the _zekka_ were entrusted to the
tribe, under the superintendence of their Kaids. It was the duty of
these officials to take account of them and appoint them shepherds, as
well as to feed and take care of them. These animals, in the government
of each Khalifa, served to defray the cost of guests, to support the
poor, to assist the _tholbas_ (men of letters), and to supply my army,
who had meat twice a-week. By these means, I had begun to establish
complete order in the administration of the revenues of each Beylik. But
when the war broke out again, I was often defrauded, and the Arabs on
every side took advantage of my preoccupations. The only two Khalifas
who maintained order to the last were Abou Hamadi and Ibn Hallal; they
were dreaded from their severity.
“The precautions which I have mentioned did not always suffice for the
nourishment of my army, at all the points on which it was called on by
the necessities of war to act. Therefore, as I did not wish to burden
the population with extra expenses, that might have indisposed them
towards me, I ordered _silos_ (underground vaults for corn) to be made
in the territory of each Beylik. These _silos_, placed under the
responsibility of the Kaid of each tribe, and so disposed as to escape
the researches of the enemy, contained the grain of the _ashur_, or of
the state lands, which were cultivated partly by forced, partly by paid,
labour.
I thus proved to the Arabs, who, from their nature, were always
suspicious, that I took nothing for my personal wants from the imposts.
I obliged them to pay for the general welfare, and they rendered me
justice for it. The _silos_, in fact, postponed my fall. Their discovery
and destruction by the French columns decided it. When once deprived of
my stores of provisions, I was obliged to exhaust the resources of the
tribe. When they felt the pressure from both sides fall heavy upon them,
their ardour for the holy war relaxed.
“As to me, what occasion was there for me to resort to the public
treasury to defray my expenses? Never, up to the moment when my private
property fell into the hands of the French, did I touch the smallest
fraction of what the Arabs gave me for the public expenses; and since
that, I have only taken what was absolutely necessary. My clothes were
made by the women of my household; my little income sufficed for the
wants of my family. Even the small surplus which was left me, I spent in
assisting the poor, the traveller, and more especially the needy among
my brave companions-in-arms who had been wounded in the holy war.
“By acting thus, I could consistently call on the Arabs to make great
sacrifices; for I showed them that the _zekka_, the _ashur_, fines,
contributions—all my resources, in fact—were scrupulously devoted to the
maintenance of the public welfare. In 1839, when the war recommenced, I
called upon the Arabs for an extraordinary loan; but they contributed
very slowly. I immediately sold all my family jewels by auction in the
bazaars of Mascara, proclaiming publicly that the proceeds were to be
sent to the public treasury. The loan was then very soon advanced; and
it seemed only to be a question who should pay first.”
As soon as Abdel Kader began to form a regular army, he drew up and
published a military code, containing the most minute regulations for
the discipline, pay, and clothing of his troops. This code was read out
to the different regiments twice a month. It was interspersed with
injunctions, and promises of reward for good behaviour, of which the
following may be taken as an example:—
“It is indispensably necessary that a chief should be personally brave
and courageous; that he should be of a good family, irreproachable in
his morals, strictly religious, patient, enduring, prudent, prompt, and
intelligent in the hour of difficulty and danger; for the officer is to
his men what the heart is to the body; if the heart is not sound, the
body is worthless.
“A soldier who throws himself dashingly on the enemy’s ranks, disables
and disarms his foe, or, by rallying the men when on the point of
retreating, prevents a panic by his example and presence of mind, shall
be decorated by the Sultan himself before the whole army; and his
heroism shall be proclaimed by beat of drum.”
The decoration thus conferred varied in appearance, according to the
bearer’s merits. It consisted of a silver or silver-gilt hand with
extended fingers. The number of fingers extended notified the number of
acts of bravery performed. Each finger extended entitled the bearer to
extra pay, amounting to a shilling a month. In the centre of the
decoration was inscribed the words _Nusr-ed-deen_, or “the triumph of
religion.” It was worn, not on the breast, but affixed to one side of
the hood of the burnous. It was sometimes also given to civilians who
had rendered great administrative services.
The uniform of the foot soldier was dark blue, with scarlet pantaloons,
a brown capote, and a small cap and turban. His pay amounted to nine
francs a month. On the right sleeve of each commanding officer were
embroidered the words, “Patience and perseverance are the key to
victory;” on the left, “There is no god but God, and Mohammed is his
Prophet.” Embroidered on his right shoulder of the Aga, in place of an
epaulette, were marked the words, “Nothing profits like piety and
courage;” on the left, “Nothing is so injurious as discussion and want
of obedience.”
All the officers throughout the army had inscriptions of a like tendency
embroidered on their uniforms. The spahis, or regular cavalry, were
clothed in scarlet exclusively. Their colonels wore the device, “Trust
in God and the Prophet—charge and conquer;” those of the artillery, “I
can effect nothing: it is God who directs the shot.” Thus was religion,
its duties and its efficacy, placed ever prominently forward by Abdel
Kader, not only in his army, but in his whole administration, as the
indispensable foundation and support of human exertion.
The following allusion to himself, with which his military code closes,
placed him before his officers and men as a model to be copied and
emulated. Nor was there any exaggeration in its expressions.
“Il Hadj Abdel Kader cares not for this world, and withdraws from it as
much as his avocations will permit. He despises wealth and riches. He
lives with the greatest plainness and sobriety. He is always simply
clad. He rises in the middle of the night to recommend his own soul and
the souls of his followers to God. His chief pleasure is in praying to
God with fasting, that his sins may be forgiven.
“He is incorruptible. He never takes anything out of the public funds
for himself. All the presents which are brought to him he sends to the
public treasury; for he serves the State, not himself. He neither eats,
nor drinks, nor dresses, but as religion ordains. When he administers
justice, he hears complaints with the greatest patience. A smile is
always on his face for the encouragement of those who approach him. His
decisions are conformable to the words of the sacred book. He hates the
man who does not act uprightly; but honours him who strictly observes
the precepts and practises the duties of religion.
“From his boyhood he learned to mount the most fiery horse without a
teacher. He never turns before an enemy; but awaits him firmly. In a
retreat he fights like a common soldier, rallying his men by his words
and example, and sharing in all their dangers. Thus, brave,
disinterested, and pious, when he preaches, his words bring tears into
all eyes, and melt the hardest hearts. All who hear him become good
Mussulmans.
“He explains the most difficult passages of the Koran and of the Hadeeth
(Traditions) without referring to books or Ulemahs. The most learned
Arabs and the greatest Talebs acknowledge him as their master and
teacher. May God increase his nobleness of character, his wisdom, his
learning, his understanding, his honour, glory, and success, a
thousandfold!”
CHAPTER XI.
1838-1839.
Abdel Kader now saw himself the founder of an empire. The strength and
versatility of his genius had given cohesion and compactness to elements
the most adverse and discordant. Hundreds of tribes bowed beneath his
warlike sceptre. On all sides were seen the good results of order and
good government. His external relations attested the magic of his power,
and the splendour of his fame. Sovereigns and Viceroys, from the Emperor
of Morocco to those of Egypt, Tunis, and Tripoli, vied with each other
in tendering him marks of respect and admiration. The Ulemahs of Mecca
and Alexandria watched with holy joy and expectation the career of one
who seemed destined to revive the pristine glories of Islam.
Burning to accomplish his secret mission in its fullest extent, Abdel
Kader lost not an hour, by day or by night, in planning, arranging, and
executing new schemes of progress and improvement. To make the Arabs of
Algeria one people, to recall them to the strict observance of their
religious duties, to inspire them with patriotism, to call forth all
their dormant capabilities, whether for war, for commerce, for
agriculture, or for mental improvement; and then to crown the whole with
the impress of European civilisation—such was his mighty and
comprehensive ideal.
His amazing activity, vigour, and enterprise, had overcome difficulties
apparently insuperable. His victorious sword, whether striking down the
enemy from without, or his rivals from within, had proved the
indomitable energy of a will which had but to conceive in order to
accomplish. He was now to show that he could achieve victories without
soldiers, and reap laurels unstained by blood.
Warrior, orator, diplomatist, statesman, and legislator, the secret of
his force lay in his intellectual grandeur. His letters, his speeches,
his conversations, all bear the stamp of their own peculiar freshness
and originality. His natural eloquence, enriched by study, matured by
meditation, and enhanced by the singular charms and graces of his
manner, operated like a spell.
The provinces of Oran and Tittery, the plains of the Sahara, had been
won by his military prowess. The grand Kabylia, that superb range of the
Djurjura, extending towards the east, from Algiers to Borigia, was now
to be the scene of a nobler triumph, one gained by the exhibition of
moral power. The hardy Kabyles inhabiting those regions had defied every
attempt to subjugate them. As independent republics, bound together by
the most exalted spirit of freedom, they had preserved their usages,
their customs, their laws, intact amidst the changing governments which
had risen and fallen around them.
It was clear that this nursery of soldiers, if once brought under his
control, would give Abdel Kader a never-failing element of support, and
if necessary, of aggression. Alone, he determined to effect by
persuasion what others had failed to achieve by the force of arms. In
September, 1839, he suddenly appeared at Borj Hamze, followed by only 50
cavalry. His faithful Khalifa, Ben Salem, was by his side. To the
question, what the Sultan proposed to do, the answer was, “To conquer
the Djurjura!” The expedition set forth.
The first slopes were rapidly passed. The appearance of the little
cavalcade, as it plunged into the deepest ravines and gorges, or
ascended almost perpendicular heights, spread surprise and astonishment
amongst the mountaineers, gazing from their huts and precipices at the
unwonted spectacle.
Presently the rumour spread that Abdel Kader was there. The magic name
resounded from rock to rock. From their valleys, their dells, their
fastnesses, the Kabyles came streaming forth to hail their famous guest.
Thousands at length gathered about his tent. The press of Sheiks and
Marabouts blocked up the entrance. The people crowded round, some rudely
intruding themselves, by lifting up the folds of the tent to gratify
their curiosity. The escort pushed them aside with the words, “Back with
you! you are going to smother our master.” Abdel Kader saw their
disappointment. “Let them approach,” he mildly said, “let them approach;
they are rough and wild like their mountains. Excuse them, you cannot
change their natures in a day.”
Abdel Kader now demanded to see the chiefs who commanded them. “We obey
our _Ameens_ and our _Marabouts_,” was the reply. The _Ameens_ came
forward to pay their respects. “Which of them represents the whole?” “We
have no single chief,” responded the jealous republicans, “to whom we
delegate our power. Our _Ameens_, chosen by the popular voice, express
the general will.” Abdel Kader ordered a space to be cleared, and bade
the throng sit down. A large circle was formed. He stood in the midst,
with a string of beads in his hand.
And now, in one of those stirring harangues which convinced the
understanding, and melted the hearts of all who heard him, Abdel Kader
adjured them to rally round his standard. He came not, he said,
amongst them, like the Turks, with the emblems of brute force; he came
amongst them as a simple pilgrim, relying on the cause he upheld, the
cause of God and his Prophet. In a hundred glorious combats, glorious
for Islamism, he had defeated the infidels, who strove to subdue their
land. All the west obeyed his laws, and if he chose, it would be as easy
for him to roll the west on the east, as to roll up the carpet on which
he stood.
“If you tell me that the east is stronger than the west,” he continued,
“I reply, God sends me victory, on account of the purity of the motives
which guide and direct me. You know, besides, what is written in the
Koran, ‘Elephants are subdued by flies; lions have been killed by mice.’
“Be assured, that if I had not firmly opposed the invasions of the
French, if I had not shown them their weakness and impotency, they would
have dashed over you before this, like a raging sea, and then you would
have seen what neither times past nor times present has ever witnessed.
They have left their own country merely to conquer and enslave ours. But
I am the thorn that God has planted in their eyes, and if you will
assist me I will drive them into the sea.
“Otherwise they will subjugate and humiliate you. Be grateful to me,
then, that I am their mortal enemy. Rouse yourselves, O Kabyles! Awake
from your apathy. Believe me, I have at heart no other wish than that of
the happiness, welfare, and prosperity of Mussulmans. All I exact from
you this day is, obedience and concord, and the strict observance of our
sacred law, that we may triumph over the infidel. And to support our
armies, I only demand from you what is specified and ordained by God,
the Master of the universe.
“I wish not to change your customs, or alter your laws and usages; but
the conducting of warlike operations demands a chief. I summon you to
join the Holy War. Choose a chief. I recommend you Ben Salem. If you
choose him, he will be like a compass for you in the hour of danger and
trial. I call God to witness the truth and sincerity of my words. If
they do not find their way to your hearts, you will yet repent one day;
but that repentance will be too late. It is by reason and not by force
that I seek to convince you. I pray God to direct and enlighten you.”
A general shout arose: “Give us Ben Salem, give us Ben Salem. Take the
_zekka_; take the _ashur_. Lead us against the infidels. We are your
children, your soldiers, your slaves!”
After installing Ben Salem as his Khalifa in the Djurjura, amidst much
pomp and rejoicing, Abdel Kader continued his peaceful tour throughout
that hospitable land. For thirty days his progress was one continued
scene of rejoicing. Whenever it was known that he had halted, the
simple-minded and enthusiastic mountaineers poured in with their
_diffas_, or enormous plates of rice, sprinkled over with bits of meat:
each one placing his _diffa_ before the Sultan’s tent, and insisting on
his partaking—“Eat, it is my _diffa_.” To avoid giving offence, Abdel
Kader was obliged to taste each plate successively.
This short excursion had been sufficient to make him known and
appreciated. The courtesy and affability of his manners, his well-known
piety, his fame as an Ulemah, the venerated title of Hadj and Marabout,
his brilliant renown as a warrior, his eloquence as a preacher, all
combined to make his appeal irresistible. Not one of those fierce and
indomitable mountaineers who saw and heard him could escape the
influence of this extraordinary combination of advantages. Their poets
made him the topic of their songs. Abdel Kader bade them adieu. With
difficulty he escaped from their friendly and hospitable importunities;
but at length he departed. The Djurjura had been conquered; and Abdel
Kader could say, like Cæsar, “_Veni, vidi, vici._”
Unwearied in his exertions to elevate, as well as to mould and direct,
the national character of the Arabs, Abdel Kader had early established a
system of public education amongst all the tribes. “My duty,” he
afterwards said, “as sovereign and as Mussulman was to support and exalt
science and religion. In the towns and throughout the tribes I opened
schools, where children were taught their prayers, where the first and
most important precepts of the Koran were inculcated, and where reading,
writing, and arithmetic were fully taught.
“Those who desired to push their education further were sent, free of
expense, to the _zouias_ and mosques. There they found _tolbas_ ready to
instruct them in history and theology. I appointed the _tolbas_ a salary
according to their learning and deserts. So important did it appear in
my eyes to give encouragement to learning, that more than once I have
remitted sentence of death to a criminal from the mere fact of his being
a _tolba_. It requires such a long time in our country to become well
instructed, that I had not the courage to destroy in one day the fruit
of years of laborious study.
“The occupant of a cot may cut down a palm-tree which incommodes him;
but how many years must he wait before he can taste the fruit of one
that he plants!
“In order to assist the studies of the _tolbas_, I took the greatest
pains to prevent the destruction of books and manuscripts. I had the
more reason for being so anxious in this respect, as with us it takes
months to make a single copy. I therefore gave strict orders throughout
the towns and tribes that the greatest care should be taken of all
manuscripts, and that if any person were found destroying or defacing
one, he should be severely punished.
“Knowing my wishes on this point, my soldiers even were in the habit of
carefully bringing in to me any manuscripts which fell into their hands
in a _razzia_; and in order to stimulate their zeal in this respect, I
always gave them a handsome reward. By degrees I made a large collection
of such manuscripts, and had them safely deposited in the _zouias_ and
mosques, and entrusted to the care of _tolbas_ in whom I had confidence.
“In the same way as I provided for a system of public instruction, I
established the administration of justice. The _kadis_ had a monthly
salary, besides perquisites, for the performance of certain duties. I
desired that the representatives of justice should be seen everywhere,
and even that they should follow my army on its march. The Turks put to
death by caprice and cruelty: I allowed no execution to take place
except by virtue of a sentence given according to the law of God, of
which I merely considered myself the executor.
“Thus, wherever my columns went, they were accompanied by a _kadi_ and
two assistants, one of whom (the chief of the police) carried the
judgments into execution. He was not looked upon with aversion on that
account, since it is not the executioner who kills, but the law. No
doubt many have suffered by my order, but never without a legal
sentence. All had committed crimes of some sort, or betrayed their
religion. Now, according to our books, whoever aids the enemy with his
goods, forfeits his goods; and whoever aids him with his arms, forfeits
his head.
“Thanks to the vigilance of my khalifas, of the agas and the kaids, and
to the responsibility which I had attached to the tribes for all crimes
or thefts committed on their territory, the roads had become perfectly
secure. The vigilance of the police left nothing to be desired. In a
word, amongst a people living under tents, and consequently difficult to
manage and control, owing to the vast spaces over which they were
dispersed, I had arrived at such a point that horse-stealing by night
was no more known; and a woman could go about alone without fear of
being insulted. When comments were made on this great result, and the
reason asked, the Arabs replied, ‘The Sultan’s nets are there, we need
not use our own.’
“The public morals were equally stimulated by my reforms. Prostitution
was severely repressed, and if God had willed it, I should have ended by
restoring the Arabs to the path of the Koran, from which they had so
widely deviated.
“I had totally forbidden the use of gold and silver on the clothes of
the men, for I abhorred the prodigality and luxury which enervates. I
only tolerated such ornaments on weapons and on harness. Should we not
cherish and adorn what so much contributes to our safety? The women were
not included in this prohibition. The weaker sex requires compensation,
when man has all the excitements he can desire—war, the chase, mental
occupation, government, religion, science.
“I was the first to set an example, by wearing clothes as simple as the
meanest of my servants. If I did this, it was certainly not in the fear
of being a mark for the balls of the enemy, but because I wished to be
able to exact from the Arabs nothing but what I practised myself, and to
show them that in the eyes of God it was better to buy arms, ammunition,
and horses to make war, than to be covered with fine and expensive, but
useless, ornaments.
“Wine and gambling were severely interdicted. Tobacco was likewise
prohibited. Not that the use of tobacco is forbidden by our religion,
but my soldiers were poor, and I was anxious to keep them from a habit
which has a tendency to increase, and which sometimes reaches such a
pitch that men have been known to leave their families in misery, and to
sell even their clothes, to gratify their passion for it. There was
smoking still, but it was only occasionally, and even then in secret.
This was already a great step gained. As to the Marabouts, the _tolbas_,
and all who were attached to the government, they renounced the practice
of smoking completely. This fact shows, at all events, in what a measure
I had succeeded in being obeyed.
“Such was already the extent and success of my organisation; and
considering the short space of time which had as yet been allowed me,
the reforms were not inconsiderable. They proved, at all events, what I
should have ultimately effected. But the son of the French king came
with an army from Constantine, and without giving me the slightest
notice, traversed the territory which was incontestably mine by the
Treaty of the Tafna, fought with the contingents of my Khalifa Ben
Salem, at Ben-Hinny, and was thus the cause of the renewal of
hostilities.”
It was only by his own constant and unremitting personal supervision
that Abdel Kader was enabled to carry forward and complete his extensive
plans of reform and amelioration. Ever on the move, reviewing his
troops, visiting his arsenals, examining his schools, administering
justice, the young Sultan of the Arabs seemed to embody the principle of
progress, and, like a beneficent genius, to scatter the blessings of
knowledge, security, and contentment through the land.
As soon as it was known that he had arrived in a district, the tribe all
hastened to pay their visits of ceremony and respect, vying with each
other in their profuse and generous hospitality. Each tribe was preceded
by its Kaid on horseback. Then came the men, women, and children,
walking two and two, bearing on their heads plates of the national
dish—the _couscoussia_. The more wealthy Arabs formed a procession
apart, carrying whole sheep, spitted and roasted on a stake.
On reaching the Sultan’s tent, before which thirty negroes always stood
in attendance, the plates were ranged along the ground, and the stakes
stuck in a row, until the Sultan had signified his acceptance of the
offering, when they at once became the perquisite of his train and
escort. The sheiks then entered and kissed hands. Each brought the
tribute of his tribe, or produced receipts for its payment, from the
khalifa within whose jurisdiction his tribe resided. The commonalty were
then admitted and did obeisance. If the day was a Friday, Abdel Kader
came forth and preached.
As long as the Sultan remained in any place, he was the sole dispenser
of justice. The tent door was the “King’s gate.” There he heard
complaints and redressed grievances. In criminal cases he decided
without appeal. The Koran always lay open before him. His condemnations
were motioned rather than delivered. If he elevated his hand, the
prisoner was carried back to prison. If he held it out horizontally, he
was led out to execution. If he pointed to the ground, he received the
bastinado. Civil cases were referred to the Ulemahs. All decisions were
made according to the Koran, to the text and spirit of which Abdel Kader
bowed with undeviating reverence and submission. The Koran, in fact, was
the guiding star of his public and private life.
At last, Abdel Kadir had succeeded in establishing a machinery of
government, which, by the harmonious relationship of its various parts,
gave fair promise of success and durability. The simple hierarchy he had
created was exactly conformable to the administrative wants and
hereditary sentiments of his people. The public functionaries were few,
their salaries moderate, their spheres of action well defined. If their
power was absolute, and their sway over the public revenues extensive,
the lynx-eyed vigilance of the Chief of the State precluded the
possibility of tyranny, corruption, or abuse.
With a just appreciation of the beneficial effects resulting from a due
regard to the natural gradations of society, and with a thorough
knowledge of the instinctive deference paid by the Arabs to blood and
descent, he filled all his more important posts with men of noble birth.
But those thus selected were, at the same time, men of good character
and spotless reputation—examples to be followed, as well as rulers to be
obeyed. A high and lofty sense of duty and self-respect thus came to
pervade all ranks, from the apex to the basis of the social pyramid; and
religion, virtue, honour, and morality, which had been blighted by the
withering dominion of the Turks, revived.
Abdel Kader had now performed his task. He had beaten the French. He had
signed a glorious peace. His kingdom was a model of order and
regularity. He trusted he might now be allowed to lay down the sceptre.
He had come forward at his country’s call. He had vindicated its choice.
He now sought permission to return to that seclusion and retirement,
that life of study and devotion, which he had so reluctantly abandoned.
With this view, he wrote to the Sultan of Morocco.
After the usual titles due to sovereignty, the letter thus proceeded:—
“The people of Algeria are now united. The standard of the Djehad is
furled. The roads are secure and practicable. The usages of barbarism
have been abandoned and obliterated. A girl can traverse the land alone,
by night and by day, from east to west, without fearing obstruction. A
man even meeting the murderer of his brother dares not retaliate, but
appeals for justice to the authorities.
“The book of Almighty God and the law of His Prophet are the only rules
of adjudication. Provisions for the support of our army abound, as well
as men to fill the ranks. All this must be attributed to the blessing of
God, obtained through your prayers and approbation. Otherwise, we should
have been the weakest of men for such achievements.
“We did not come forward and assume the task of government from
ambitious motives, or a desire for exaltation and power, or a love for
the vanities of this world; but (and God knows the secrets of my heart)
to fight the battles of the Lord, to prevent the fratricidal effusion of
the blood of Moslems, to protect their properties, and to pacify the
country, as zeal for the faith and patriotism require.
“We have been ever on the alert, night and day, moving through the
length and breadth of the land, in mountains and in plains; sometimes
leading forth to battle, and at other times regulating affairs. We now
beg your Highness to send one of your sons, grandsons, or servants, to
assume the reins of government; for now there is neither trouble nor
opposition from any quarter. I will be the first to serve under him, and
to exert my poor abilities to the utmost, to counsel and advise him.
“I trust to that consideration and indulgence which distinguishes you,
to accept this my prayer to be relieved from the charge which is
weighing on me.
“I send your Highness some presents which have been sent me by the King
of the French, from which I have only retained a pair of pistols. Also
some of the best mules in Algeria. Their number, together with that of
the other articles, are detailed in the account enclosed in this letter.
“We beg you to accept our excuses, and hope for the expression of your
pleasure and approbation. The presents will be delivered to you by my
brother, whom I have deputed in my place, to seek the honour of an
interview with your Highness, and to convey to you the dutiful regards
and assurances of devotion of your son and servant,
“ABDEL KADER IBN MEHI-ED-DEEN.
“_October_, 1838.
“_Moharrem_, 1254.”
The words written by Brougham on Washington might, indeed, have been
admirably applied to Abdel Kader at this remarkable juncture of his
life:—“A triumphant warrior, where the most sanguine had a right to
despair; a successful ruler in all the difficulties of a course wholly
untried; but a warrior whose sword only left its sheath when the first
law of our nature commanded it to be drawn; and a ruler who, having
tasted of supreme power, gently and unostentatiously desired that the
cup might pass from him, nor would suffer more to wet his lips, than the
most solemn and sacred duty to his country and his God required.”
Sultan Abderahman, in a highly complimentary reply, refused even for a
moment to hear of such self-renunciation on the part of one who had
shown himself so eminently fitted to command, to organise, to renovate,
and to save his country. He called on Abdel Kader, in the sacred name of
Islamism, to stand forth, as ever, the champion of the Djehad, to
complete his noble work, and to extend and accomplish his victorious
career. Finally, he begged the young Sultan to send him his shirt, that
he might hang it up in his private mosque as a saintly relic!
CHAPTER XII.
1839.
Scarcely had the “Treaty of the Tafna” been signed, when its defects and
inconsistencies became apparent. It was impossible that a measure,
hurried on by General Bugeaud to a hasty and immature conclusion, solely
in order to enable him to send the troops under his command in the
province of Oran, that they might take part in the siege of Constantine,
could have had any other result.
The General, defending his act in the French Chamber, during the session
of 1838, thus expressed himself:—“Much has been said about the defects
in the details of the treaty. I frankly avow there were some, but I
think their importance has been exaggerated. There is only one of any
consequence, and that is the expression, ‘as far as the Wady Kuddra, and
_beyond_.’ This word may imply, as far as the province of Constantine.
The expression is certainly vague; but it must be remembered that I was
hard pushed for time. A steamer was waiting for my dispatch. It was
absolutely necessary that I should conclude for war or for peace.”
But it was precisely the doubt hanging over the proper interpretation of
this word as it stood in Arabic, which kept open the door for endless
disputes and misunderstandings, and ended by nullifying the treaty
altogether. So hastily and inconsiderately, indeed, had it been drawn
up, that a few days after the peace, when a French detachment had
occasion to go from Arzew to Mostaganem, Abdel Kader, without opposing
its march, sent to Bugeaud to remark that the French troops had violated
his territory. The complaint was perfectly just, inasmuch as no mention
had been made in the treaty of the right of passage.
The evils arising from incorrect translations are notorious. In the
diplomatic relations, between Abdel Kader and the French authorities,
more than one had occurred, which, had they been discovered by the
latter, might have entailed serious complications. But Abdel Kader was
satisfied, in general, with what he had written in Arabic, and the
French authorities with what they had written in French, and no more
questions were asked.
One instance may be given. The French had always placed at the head of
their treaties, that Abdel Kader acknowledged the sovereignty of France.
Abdel Kader never dreamed of making any such admission. It would have
cost him his throne. What he had written, in Arabic, in the article he
subscribed was, properly translated, “The Emir Abdel Kader acknowledges
that there is a French Sultan, and that he is great.” The difference is
wide.
In a matter of limits of territory, moreover, such matters become of
vital importance; and Abdel Kader was the last person to yield a point,
when he felt he was borne out by justice and common sense in maintaining
it.
By the French version of the 2nd article of the “Treaty of the Tafna,”
France is declared to possess, in the province of Algiers, “Algiers, the
Sahel, the plain of the Metija, extending to the east as far as the Wady
Kuddra, and _beyond_.” So the French chose to translate the Arabic word
“_fauk_,” which really means, “above.” The Gordian knot which the French
had made, and which they at last unscrupulously cut with the sword, was
this: they had given themselves a limit, and yet wanted to have no
limit. All their efforts to make Abdel Kader stultify himself, by
subscribing to this solecism, were unavailing.
Because the Arab Sultan maintained the absurdity of such a proceeding,
and finally threw down the gauntlet of defiance rather than sacrifice
the interests of his subjects and co-religionists, he was held up to
execration as a rebel, as a breaker of treaties, as a man of wild and
unprincipled ambition. He was treated as if he were contending with the
lawful possessors of the land; not fighting, as was truly the case,
against invaders, who had come to its shores denying all schemes of
aggrandisement, and pledged to achieve the single object for which they
came, and then withdraw.
In presence of a treaty, which each party read and construed after its
own fashion, political and commercial relations of any durable or
confidential nature were clearly impossible. An attempt, at least, to
come to some understanding was indispensable. The task of entering on a
discussion with Abdel Kader on the subject devolved on Marshal Valée,
who assumed the functions of Governor-General in Algiers, on November
30th, 1837.
The Marshal applied to the French Ministry for instructions. The reply
thus simply and categorically announces the doctrine of appropriation.
“By the words, ‘Wady Kuddra, and _beyond_,’ must be understood, all the
country in the province of Algiers which is beyond the Wady Kuddra, up
to the province of Constantine. The evidence of right, independent of
political considerations, permits no concession on that point. Since we
are masters of the province of Constantine, we cannot be without land
communication with it.”
The Marshal forwarded this view of the question to Abdel Kader, with his
own comments, as follows:—“France has ceded to you all the province of
Oran, less the reserved districts; all the ancient Beylik of Tittery,
without exception; lastly, all that part of the province of Algiers
situate to the west of the Chiffa. But you can have no pretension to any
part of that province which lies to the east of that river. As for the
Beylik of Constantine, about that there can be no misunderstanding, as
it is not even spoken of in the treaty; and, moreover, it was placed
under the rule of Achmet Bey when the treaty was signed.”
Abdel Kader replied;—“As regards the Beylik of Constantine, there can be
no difficulty: on that point we are agreed. But it is not so as regards
the province of Algiers. Remember what happened at the time of the
treaty. I wished to limit you to the plain of Algiers. General Bugeaud
begged me to extend this limit, and I consented. I ceded the country as
far as the Wady Kuddra towards the east, and as far as Blidah,
inclusively, towards the south. The expression, ‘as far as the Wady
Kuddra and above,’ must have a value. If not, why was it inserted in the
treaty? If it signifies anything, it must mean that you are limited to
the east, as you are to the west.
“To justify your interpretation, you base your reasoning on the
necessity there is for you to have a land communication between
Constantine and Algiers. But you admit, in the same breath, that
Constantine was not yours when the treaty was signed. Consequently, you
clearly could not have reserved for yourself a tract of country in
anticipation of an event which had not yet happened. Besides, is it
anything extraordinary, that you should have done towards the east, what
you have done towards the west?
“Arzew and Mostaganem belong to you; yet you have not claimed or
appropriated the tract of country which lies between those two towns. Do
not let us fling ourselves into interpretations. Let us keep to the
text; and let us frankly say, that all that portion of the province of
Algiers which is not included between the Chiffa on the west, and Wady
Kuddra on the east, and the first chain of mountains on the south,
belongs to me.”
“But,” answered the Marshal, “your interpretation is erroneous; for you
forget the word _beyond_, which is also in the treaty. ‘As far as Wady
Kuddra, and _beyond_’—which evidently meant, at the signing of the
treaty, up to the very limits of the province of Algiers in that
direction. But since that time we have taken Constantine. It means now,
therefore, as far as the _frontiers of Tunis_.”
Nowithstanding this pat of the lion’s paw, Abdel Kader retorted with the
coolness of a logician.
“The word _beyond_,” he wrote, “signifies something; but the Arab word
_fauk_ translated as you translate it—_beyond_—means nothing at all. Let
us make an experiment. Take any twenty Arabs you choose to select, and
ask them the meaning of the word _fauk_. If they say that the natural
interpretation of this word can, by any twisting of meaning, be made to
signify ‘_beyond_,’ I will accept your interpretation. Take all the
territory between Wady Kuddra and the province of Constantine. But if,
on the other hand, they all decide that the word, what you translate
‘_beyond_,’ really and strictly means _above_, accept the proposal I
make you. This proposal is to give over to you, as a limit towards the
east, the first crest of mountains which rises _above_ the Wady Kuddra.”
The Marshal prudently declined the test. He might have declared war at
once; but war with Abdel Kader was not so enticing as to be lightly
undertaken. A better mode of getting over the difficulty suggested
itself. Abdel Kader was ardently engaged in the task of organisation.
Peace was indispensable to him. Attentions, flatteries, cajolements—or,
these failing, petty annoyances and harassing vexations—might mollify or
weary out his tenacious spirit. Both were tried; but both ineffectually.
In the mean time Abdel Kader was firmly establishing himself in all the
districts to the south of Tittery. With a boldness and rapidity of
movement, which paralysed and subdued, he laid his iron hand on all the
tribes on the borders of the province of Constantine, who were known or
even suspected of intriguing with the French. He boldly occupied the
disputed territory beyond the Wady Kuddra. More than that, he made it
the scene of one of those acts of uncompromising severity, with which he
visited all traitors to the faith.
A colony of Kolouglis had lately settled there, trusting for their
security to French protection. Their kaid, a Turk, had received French
investiture. Abdel Kader summoned them to break off their treasonable
connection. They refused. The French supplied them with arms and
ammunition to resist. Abdel Kader swept down on them, crushed them, and
cut off the Frenchified kaid’s head. All the tribes of the vast district
of Sebaou instantly sent in their adhesion; and the Sultan appointed
Achmet Ibn Salem to be his Khalifa over them.
In the midst of these successes, Abdel Kader was threatened with a
rival. Achmet Bey, when turned out of Constantine, had taken refuge in
Mount Aures. He had commenced agitating amongst the tribes of the
district of Zab. Biskara, its capital, was in the possession of his most
implacable enemy, Farhat-ibn-Said. This chief applied to the French for
assistance to defend the country against the Bey, promising that, in
case of success, it should be made to submit to French domination. The
French were lukewarm; and so he turned to Abdel Kader.
Before entering the Zab country by force of arms, Abdel Kader considered
it expedient to inform the French Governor at Constantine of his
intention. As the friend and ally of France, he said, he was going to
quell the disturbances which had arisen there, and save it from anarchy.
Since agitation so near a French province might prove contagious, he
considered it was in the interest of France that he undertook the
expedition.
Having sent this communication, Abdel Kader ordered Ibn Berkani, his
Khalifa at Miliana, to collect his forces, and march on Biskara. Farhat
received him with open arms. A combined attack was made on Achmet Bey,
who was defeated, and hid himself in the Sahara. Farhat expected to be
named the Sultan’s Khalifa over the Zab. To his disgust, the latter
appointed one of his own chiefs, Ben Azouz, to that post. In revenge, he
immediately began to correspond with the French. The correspondence was
intercepted. Of his treason there could be no doubt. He was seized, and
sent in chains to Tekedemt.
Abdel Kader was now absolute sovereign of two-thirds of Algeria. The
country which he had newly occupied, to the south-east of the province
of Algeria, was one of the greatest utility to the French, since the
garrison of Constantine drew from it its provisions, and they could not
but feel that Abdel Kader could now at any moment stop the supply.
Well aware that all those movements would awaken the jealousy, if not
excite the alarm, of the French authorities in the regency, Abdel Kader
made a step towards setting himself right with the French Government at
home. After the treaty of the Tafna, Louis Philippe had sent him a
magnificent present of costly arms. These gifts Abdel Kader had
forwarded, as usual, to the Sultan of Morocco. The arms he prized but
little; but they enabled him to pay a graceful tribute to one, on whose
friendship and assistance he greatly relied.
Miloud-ibn-Arasch and Durand, the Jew, were now sent to Paris to return
the compliment. They took with them six splendid Arab horses, as a gift
to the King of the French. The presentation of this complimentary peace-
offering was the ostensible object of their mission. But their secret
instructions were to soften down any acrimonious feeling which might
exist on the part of the French Government towards their master—to
explain away his recent conduct in such a manner as to leave a
favourable impression—and to procure, if possible, a confirmation of his
reading of the disputed article in the Treaty of the Tafna.
Marshal Valée was fully cognisant of the whole of this proceeding. In
fact, he had contrived to see Ibn Arasch for a short half-hour, on his
way, at Algiers; and during this interview he had immediately began to
argue about the true meaning of the article. Divining the real object of
the ostentatious embassy, he had written to his Government, warning it
against making any concessions which might interfere with his own course
of negotiation. The Arab envoys, consequently, were graciously received;
their horses were admired and praised. They themselves were brilliantly
entertained. All the sights of Paris were shown them; and, in the French
phrase of the time, they were the “lions” of the day. But when they
broached the subject of the disputed article, their mouths were stopped
with an evasion or a compliment.
On their return to Algiers, after their fruitless mission, the envoys
were summoned by the Marshal to an interview. He drew out of his pocket
an amended version of the treaty, in which the ground contested was
given over to the French, Abdel Kader receiving in exchange the
districts of the Beni Djead, Hamza, and Oranougla; whilst, at the same
time, the measures of corn and barley which by the treaty he had engaged
to furnish, were remitted to him. Ibn Arasch declared he was not
authorised to negotiate.
The envoy was still further pressed, and he at last offered to affix his
own seal to the document, to show that personally he acceded to the
stipulation. But he positively refused to be answerable for his master’s
approval. The perplexity of the affair was mitigated by a proposal on
the part of the French to send a commission to the Sultan, and
accordingly a commission started. On reaching Miliana, the Khalifa there
refused to allow the French commissioners to proceed, without
instructions from the Sultan. Ibn Arasch feigned illness, and escaped to
Mascara.
The Marshal was again thrown on his own resources. He propitiated the
Emir by friendly offices. He sent him cannon and ammunition to assist
him in the siege of Ain Maadi. These timely succours arrived there most
opportunely; in fact they turned the scale of fortune, then trembling in
the balance. But no concession was obtained. Abdel Kader felt himself in
the right. He would not be put in the wrong.
He returned to Tekedemt, January 10th, 1839. His envoy, trembling and
doubtful as to the reception he should receive, presented himself, to
give an account of his late proceedings. When Abdel Kader learnt that he
had affixed his seal to a document which gave away all for which he had
been so long and so persistently contending, he was almost beside
himself with vexation and anger. “Never,” he exclaimed, “never will I
ratify a convention which gives the French a land communication between
Constantine and Algiers, and thus lose all the advantages I have gained
by their oversight in circumscribing Algiers within a circle formed by
the sea, the Chiffa, and the summits of the lesser Atlas, immediately
above the Wady Kuddra.”
The vacillating policy of the French Government had hitherto prevented
it from taking any decisive step for the settlement of this interminable
dispute. Now, it talked of confining the French occupation to Bona,
Algiers, and Oran. Anon, it announced its intention of asserting its
rights in the interior by force of arms. In the meantime Abdel Kader was
hourly extending his dominion. Where was all this to end? The momentous
question could no longer be avoided, and the French Government at last
determined to act. Abdel Kader it could not reach. But his agents were
within its grasp. It determined to operate on him through them.
By the treaty of the Tafna, Abdel Kader was clearly entitled to nominate
what agents he pleased, to reside near the French authorities in all
places occupied by French garrisons. These agents were now, under
various pretences, arbitrarily ignored, or assailed with studied
affronts. Some inoffensive Moors who wanted to go and settle on Abdel
Kader’s territory—a privilege which the treaty had secured to all
Mussulmans—were rudely treated and violently detained within the French
lines. A wheelwright whom Abdel Kader had long been in the habit of
employing to make gun-carriages for him in Algiers, had his shop closed
and was expelled the town.
By the 7th Article, Abdel Kader was entitled to be furnished with
whatever arms or ammunition, or materials for war, he might require, by
the French authorities, at cost price. His agent at Algiers was
expressly instructed to facilitate such a transaction. He had been
further useful in procuring for his master French mechanics from Paris,
to superintend his various internal improvements, in strict conformity
with the 10th Article. The agent was now suddenly arrested, put into
chains, and sent to France. Abdel Kader appealed to Marshal Valée
against such monstrous infringements of his rights. He was told the
Marshal had unlimited authority, and could do what he pleased.
His consul at Algiers was a certain Italian, named Garavini, who was
also consular agent for the United States of America. For nearly two
years this agent had exercised this double function without molestation.
He was now informed that the French Government refused to acknowledge
him in the first capacity. Abdel Kader had just returned from Ain Maadi
when he received this notification. He immediately penned the following
letter to Marshal Valée:—
“The Prince of the Faithful, who defends by arms the cause of God, Il
Hadj Abdel Kader, son of Mehi-ed-deen (whom God preserve in his holy
keeping), to the Governor of Algiers. Grace be to those who conform
themselves to the will of God.
“Our consul, Garavini, has informed us that he is no longer allowed to
occupy himself with our affairs. You have written him a letter, of which
he has sent me a copy. This letter we have read, and we have understood
it. It prescribes to him to leave our service, and announces that you
wish his place to be supplied by an Arab.
“In the first place, we cannot find any Arab who could perform his
functions in such a manner as to give satisfaction to our two nations,
and promote their reciprocal interests. Garavini is a wise and discreet
man, who only upholds what may be advantageous to both parties. In the
next place, France has no right to force us to take a consul against our
will and inclination. It is for us to judge what is best for us to do.
If you wish to name an Arab as your consul with us, do so. We shall
offer no objection. Why do you interfere with our choice of agents? Do
we interfere with yours? Your way of acting violates the sacred
principles of honour which ought to animate our respective modes of
proceeding.
“It would almost seem that you were desirous of seeing disorders once
more prevail in the districts of Algiers and Oran. Individuals wishing
to come and reside on our territory have not only been arbitrarily
prevented, but have been fined, and thrown into prison. When our consul,
Garavini, protested against such proceedings, you disdained to reply to
him; you would have nothing to say to him. Such conduct denotes violence
of character. It shows that you desire to provoke misunderstandings
between us and the French Government. We have chosen a Christian out of
your own town, and you reject him!
“However, since usages are thus violated, since we are thwarted in what
regards the good of our service, since there is evidently a design to
lower us, we are ready for a rupture as soon as it may please you. All
the world knows that we have chosen Garavini. We shall choose no other.
Write to your ministry, therefore, that we mean to keep our consul
Garavini. We expect an immediate answer.
“We hope France will send a more moderate man to command in Algiers, a
man who will let us enjoy the fruits of peace, a man who will do what is
just and reasonable. We had hoped that your mode of acting would not
have been like that of some of those erring men who have preceded you.
But if you choose to tread in the steps of such persons, God, be
assured, will make us victorious over our enemies, over those who
unjustly seek to molest us. God has said, ‘Let injustice fall on the
head of its author;’ He has also said, ‘It is better to be the oppressed
than the oppressor.’ As for us, we will not deviate an inch from the
treaty, if you will only abide by it.”
All the satisfaction Abdel Kader could obtain in reply to this able and
spirited remonstrance, was that the French Government understood the
15th Article to mean that the consuls named by the Emir should be taken
from amongst the Arabs, in the same way as the consuls named by the
French Government were taken from amongst the French.
The extensile qualities of the Treaty of the Tafna seemed, in the eyes
of the French authorities, to be as illimitable as their own powers of
constructive reasoning. But they were, as yet, as far from their object
as ever. Abdel Kader would neither be cajoled nor bullied. All their
devices had failed. Matters had come to a dead lock.
CHAPTER XIII.
1839.
Marshal Valée, notwithstanding his repeated failures, determined to make
one more effort to obtain Abdel Kader’s adhesion to the views taken by
his Government on the disputed article. In the month of February, 1839,
Commandant de Salles was sent on a mission to the head-quarters of the
Sultan, who was then at Miliana. The object of his mission was to induce
Abdel Kader to give his sanction and approval to the supplementary
treaty, which had been signed by his enemy, Miloud-ibn-Arasch.
Although a continuation of the peace was of vital importance to Abdel
Kader, in order to enable him to complete his work of organisation, yet
to yield the disputed territory was to him a moral and political
impossibility.
Politically it was impossible to him, because the territory in question,
once ceded to the French, would have given them free means of
communication between the provinces of Algiers and Constantine, and
would thereby have rendered their possessions more compact, and
proportionally augmented their aggresive power. Morally it was so also,
because, not only was it repugnant to his own sense of honour to yield
up tamely and submissively a point on which he felt himself to be in the
right, but the mainstay of his hourly-increasing influence, gained by
the almost magic success with which he had gradually circumscribed the
French to within little more than gunshot of their own fortresses, would
have been dangerously imperilled by any such concession.
He had already repeatedly pacified many anxious inquirers, by the
assurance that France would never dare to overstep the limits assigned
to her in the plain of Algiers. It was on the strength of this assurance
that the military and religious chiefs, convoked on the Habra, had
consented to the peace. Without their consent, whatever might have been
his own inclinations, he was precluded from listening to any
modification of the treaty.
Already, too, sinister reports and insinuations were circulated by the
fanatical party that he was secretly paying tribute to the French; that
the infidels had received his permission to settle on the sacred soil of
Islam, and that the tolerance of such a profanation was little
consistent with his lofty boast that he would, ere long, drive them all
into the sea.
Placed in this delicate position, Abdel Kader resolved on again
convoking all the principal personages in his kingdom, and again calling
on them to arbitrate on the differences existing between him and the
French Government. The French commissioner was informed of this
intention, and invited to attend the meeting, with full permission to
enounce his propositions. He accepted the invitation, though with small
hopes that he should be able to obtain from the Sultan’s council of war,
concessions which the pressure of his Government had failed to obtain
from the Sultan himself.
The course of action which Abdel Kader thus adopted was, however, the
only one which afforded any prospect for a peaceable adjustment of
affairs. Marshal Valée had always ascribed Abdel Kader’s pertinacity to
his individual pride and ambition. His feelings of irritation at the
manner in which all means of accommodation had been rejected, were
increased by the inward conviction that the obstacles raised were the
consequence of his adversary’s personal caprice. Abdel Kader counted on
his present proceeding to dispel the Marshal’s delusion, if not to
induce him to adopt a change of conduct. The Marshal would discover that
it was not the sentiments of an individual, but those of a whole people,
with which he was contending.
The council of war met. The French envoy spoke; but the decision was
unanimous: “War, rather than give up the disputed territory.” M. de
Salles returned to Algiers to state the result of his mission. Abdel
Kader, on his part, without waiting for further circumvolutions of
policy in that direction, appealed at once to a higher quarter, and
addressed the following letter to the King of the French:—
“Praise be to the One God!
“The servant of God, Il Hadj Abdel Kader, ibn Mehi-ed-deen, Commander of
the Faithful, to H.M. Louis Philippe, King of the French: may his reign
be long, happy, and full of glory.
“Since the foundation of Islamism, Mussulmans and Christians have been
at war. For ages this was a sacred obligation on both sects; but the
Christians, neglecting their religion and its precepts, have finished by
looking on war merely as a means of worldly aggrandisement.
“To the true Mussulman, on the contrary, war against the Christians is
merely a religious obligation; how much more so when Christians come to
invade Mussulman territory! According to this principle, I deviated from
the rules laid down in our sacred books, when, two years ago, I made
with you, King of the Christians, a treaty of peace; and more especially
when I endeavoured to consolidate this peace by every means in my power.
You know the duties imposed by the Koran on every Mussulman prince;
therefore you ought to give me credit for having taken upon myself to
relax, as regards you, the rigour of its precepts.
“But you now demand a sacrifice from me which is too formally in
contradiction with my religion to allow me to submit to it; and you are
too just to impose it on me as a necessity. You call upon me to abandon
tribes whose submission I have received; who came to me of themselves to
pay me the imposts prescribed by the Koran, and who beseeched me, and
still beseech me, to govern them. I have myself traversed their
territory, _which, moreover, is beyond the limits of that which the
treaty reserved to France_; and can you now wish, by another treaty,
that I should order those tribes to submit to the yoke of the
Christians?
“No. If the French are my friends, they can never desire to bring about
a state of things which would lower and degrade their ally in the eyes
of his people. They would not for the sake of a few miserable tribes, to
govern which, themselves, or leave to others to govern, can be of very
little moment to them, place me in the terrible alternative either of
breaking the law, or of renouncing a peace which is so desirable for us
both.
“But some may tell you that this consideration which forces me to
reclaim those tribes will oblige me to reclaim the Arabs of Metija, of
Oran, and of Constantine. No; for those have remained, and still remain,
with the French of their own free will; and I have reserved to myself
the right of giving an asylum to those amongst them who may become
disgusted with Christian dominion. Whereas, the tribes in question, who
are not nomad, but are attached to the soil, seek to be under my
government, and are too numerous to allow of my giving them grounds in
my territory equal to those they might wish to abandon.
“Great King of the French! God has appointed each of us to govern some
of his creatures. You are in a position far superior to mine, by the
number, power, and riches of your subjects; but on both of us he has
imposed the obligation of making our people happy. Examine, then, with
me our positions; and you will acknowledge that on you alone depends the
happiness of both people.
“‘Sign,’ I am told by your agents; ‘or if you do not sign, your refusal
will be war.’ Well, I will not sign; and yet I desire peace—nothing but
peace.
“In order that a treaty should be useful to your subjects, it is
necessary that I should be feared and respected by mine; for the moment
they see that, according to my good pleasure, I hand them over to the
administration of the Christians, they will no longer have any
confidence in me, and then it will be impossible for me to make them
observe the least clause in the treaty.
“How can you be compromised—you, Sultan of the French nation—by making
concessions to a young Emir, whose power is now beginning to be
strengthened and fortified under your shadow? Ought you not rather to
protect me, to be indulgent towards me—me, who have re-established order
amongst tribes which were slaying each other; who seek every day to
raise in them a taste for the arts and for liberal professions? Help me,
in the place of embarrassing me, and God will recompense you.
“If the war breaks out again, there will be no more commerce, which
might confer such inestimable advantages on the country, and no more
security for the colonists. There will be increased expenses, and
diminished productions. The blood of your soldiers will be uselessly
shed; it will be a partisan war to the death. I have not the folly to
suppose that I can openly make head against your troops; but I can
harass them without ceasing. I shall lose ground, no doubt; but then I
have on my side, knowledge of the country, the frugality and hardy
temperament of my Arabs, and, more than all, the arm of God, who
supports the oppressed.
“If, on the contrary, you wish for peace, our two countries will be as
one; the least of your subjects will enjoy the most perfect security
amongst the tribes; the two peoples will intermix more and more every
day; and you will have the glory of having introduced into our countries
that civilisation of which the Christians are the apostles.
“You will comprehend, I am sure, what I say; you will grant me what I
ask; and what I ask is this,—that you do not see in a refusal to sign a
new treaty, the desire of recommencing war, but rather the wish to
consolidate the basis of the old one, and to confirm a sincere
friendship between our nations.
“May God inspire you with an answer worthy of your power, and the
goodness of your heart.”
The almost supplicating earnestness of this simple and straightforward
letter fully evinces the anxiety entertained by Abdel Kader at the
aspect which affairs between himself and the French were now assuming,
and his sense of the vast importance to himself of a continuation of the
peace. On the 31st May, 1839, the ministry of M. Molé was overthrown. A
false report had reached Algiers, that he had been replaced by M.
Thiers, with Marshal Gerard as Minister of War.
Abdel Kader immediately wrote again to the king, and, at the same time,
addressed two letters to the said ministers, with a power of language
and a form of argument, which could only have emanated from a mind
consoled and supported by the rectitude of its intention, and a firm and
unshaken reliance in the justice of its cause.
LETTER TO THE KING.
“I have written you three letters, in which I gave you all my thoughts;
not one of them has been honoured with an answer. They have been,
doubtless, intercepted; for you are too kind and considerate not to have
given me the satisfaction of knowing what were your true feelings and
dispositions. May this, my last attempt, meet with better success! May
this exposition of what is passing in Africa attract and fix your
attention, and lead to a system which shall conduce to the welfare and
happiness of the two populations whom God has confided to your care and
solicitude!
“The behaviour of your lieutenants is most unjust with regard to me; and
I cannot suppose that it is known to you; I have too much confidence in
your justice to suppose it. Endeavours are being made to induce you to
regard me as your enemy. You are imposed on; if I were your enemy, I
should already have found many causes for commencing hostilities.
“Since my refusal to sign the new treaty, presented to me by M. de
Salles on the part of Marshal Valée (my motives for which I have already
explained to you in one of my former letters), there is no kind of
injustice with which I have not been assailed by your representatives at
Algiers. My soldiers have been arrested and thrown into prison without
any legal cause; an order has been given not to allow the importation of
any more iron, or brass, or lead, into my country; my agents in Algiers
have been ill-treated by the authorities; my most important letters are
answered by a simple receipt, cavalierly handed to the horseman who
bears them; letters written to me from Algiers are intercepted.
“After such treatment they tell you I am your enemy. They say that I
want war at any price—I who desire, in every way, to follow the example
of your industrious nation—I, who in spite of these tokens of hostility,
facilitate the arrival of all the productions of my country into your
markets—I who surround myself with Europeans, in order to give an
impetus to industry, and who issue the most stringent orders that your
merchants, and even your men of science, should not only be allowed to
travel all over my country in perfect security, but be received and
treated with hospitality.
“But you may be told—‘The Emir has not yet fulfilled the first
conditions imposed on him by the treaty of the Tafna.’ To this I reply,
I have only postponed the execution of these clauses, because your
representative, Bugeaud, broke, in the first place, his engagements.
“Where are all the supplies of muskets, of powder, of lead, of sulphur,
which were promised to me? Why do I still see at Oran the chiefs of the
Douairs and Zmelas, whose removal to France was solemnly promised me?
Does Bugeaud think I have not yet in my possession the particular
treaty, the only one which interests me, written out entirely in his own
hand, and signed with his seal? Could I believe for an instant that
written promises from the representative of the King of the French could
possibly be invalid?
“I confess, I had so high an idea of the good faith of French
Christians, that I was scandalised by their want of good faith, and that
having had no direct communication with you, I refused to sign another
treaty.
“Yes, your military deputies only wish for new combats and fresh
conquests. I am certain this system is not yours. You have not descended
on the shores of Africa to exterminate its inhabitants, nor to drive
them from the country. You wished to bring them the benefits of
civilisation. You came not to make a nation of slaves, but rather to
implant amidst the people that spirit of liberty which is the most
powerful lever of your own nation, and with which it has dowried so many
other countries.
“Is it by the force of arms, is it by bad faith, that your agents will
accomplish this end? Should the Arabs be at last convinced that you have
come to attack their religion and conquer their country, their hatred
will grow stronger than ever. They will break away from my control and
authority, and our mutual prospects of civilisation will vanish away for
ever.
“I pray and entreat you then, in the name of God, who has created us
both, to try and understand a little better this young Arab, whom the
Most High has placed, despite himself, at the head of a simple and
ignorant people, and who is falsely represented to you as being an
ambitious chief. Make him acquainted with your intentions. Above all,
communicate with him directly, and his conduct will prove to you that he
has been badly appreciated.
“May God grant you the light necessary to govern your people wisely.”
The letter to M. Thiers was couched in the following terms:—
“I congratulate France on your return to the ministry. The important
labours which formerly signalised your presence in it, and the interest
you always bear towards Algiers, make me salute you with joy.
“Your countrymen who are about me have informed me that your post is
charged more especially with watching and superintending the prosperity
of France. A part of Africa is become French. In speaking to you of the
dangers which menace the prosperity of the two countries, I perform a
duty.
“Counsellor of the King of the French, it is for your enlightenment, it
is for your philanthropy, to strengthen and consolidate a peace which
France and Algiers both demand.
“The despotic caprices of the agents of an honoured Government, the
failures in the execution of a treaty on the one side, leading to
similar failures on the other; and the greedy and unprincipled ambitions
of some, who aim at new spheres of riches and emoluments, threaten to
mingle French and Arab blood, when, to my belief, the real truth is,
that we all long for a peace which will bring to the Arabs the precious
results of progress and civilisation, and to France the glory of having
conferred them.
“You are great for France—be so for Africa; and both countries will
bless you. Your influence with a king, whose minister you are, and your
counsels to a young Emir—entirely ignorant of the intricacies of
European politics—are the materials with which you might erect a
monument of glory for your own nation, and one of happiness and
gratitude for mine.
“May God assist and enlighten you, and maintain you in the high position
of which you are so worthy!”
The letter to Marshal Gerard was not less admirably conceived. It ran as
follows:—
“As soon as I was informed that the powerful King of the French had made
you Minister of War, I had reason to be rejoiced. I felt that one who
has nothing to add to his military glory, could never look to the French
occupation in Africa as his sole field for military distinction. One
who, like you, knows how to make war, must also know how to make peace,
and to enjoy its fruits.
“This peace is menaced; and wherefore? For the sake of a few leagues of
ground, and a road impracticable from its natural difficulties. Has not
France sufficient military glory—has it not space enough—that it should
seek to acquire more at the expense of my influence over Arabs, whom I
have bound myself to keep in submission?
“My religion prevents me from violating my engagements. Why, then, seek,
without any necessity, to lower me in the eyes of my co-religionists by
calling on me to give over and place under French administration
populations, to whom it is my duty, by the injunctions of our law, to
preach the holy war? Let those who would compel me to do so try to
understand my religion, and the obligations which it imposes upon me;
and then, perhaps, they may be inclined to give me credit for the
sacrifices I am making.
“I approach you, then, to call your attention to the exactments of a
local administration, which I refuse to believe can be guided in its
acts by the wishes of France and of its chief. The French are too great
to inspire the vexatious meannesses to which my subjects are constantly
exposed in their relations with your representatives at Algiers. My
dignity has obliged me to suspend these relations in part. When I saw
that they were anxious enough to take the produce of our soil, but
refused to supply the iron necessary for cultivating it, I said to them,
‘Sell, but buy no more; God who has given us land has also placed in our
mountains all the metals which our pretended civilisers refuse us.’
“I pray to God, that your powerful influence with the king may be
employed in seconding my pacific views; and that you and his noble son
may, for the sake of self-information, come and visit this country, and
meet with him whom you wrongly look upon as your enemy. Then your
penetration and your genius, finding in me only sincerity and the desire
of doing good, will assist me in moderating, either by civilisation or
by arms, the fanaticism of populations who are only just beginning to
appreciate the advantages of peace and industry.
“May God make your armies victorious so long as they fight in the true
cause.”
These were noble words—words well worthy of being recorded. They were
noble in the grandeur of their appeal—noble, as indicating the heroic
struggle which rent and lacerated the breast of one conscious of his
powers, burning with great designs, and painfully oscillating between a
nervous anxiety to prolong a peace which would have enabled him to
exhibit before the world a Mohammedan kingdom at its highest possible
pitch of progress and development, and the lofty determination to
abandon even this his heart’s desire, and to waive the brilliant future,
if such objects could only be attained by a craven submission, however
temporary, to the imperious dictates of an overbearing and unprincipled
ambition.
Such appeals, it may be well imagined, were entirely thrown away on a
government which, finding itself entangled in a labyrinth, and thus
fettered in the realisation of its secret views, was bent on adopting
any measures likely to deliver it from its embarrassing position,
however inconsistent they might be with good faith.
Thus, whilst Abdel Kader was still fondly dreaming over the possible
fulfilment of plans and projects, meant to harmonise and combine the
requirements of Mohammedanism with the advantages of European
intercourse, and the fruits of European civilisation, the subtle and
powerful enemy with whom he was coping was already meditating a line of
action which was destined, before long, to scatter those plans and
projects to the winds.
Both parties, it is true, wished for peace; but whereas the one sought
for it as a temporary expedient, the other clung to it as a vital
principle. Both were bound to their respective people by pledges and
obligations, from which they could not recede. Abdel Kader had vowed to
keep the French at his sword’s point, in every case of unjustifiable
aggression. His attitude was clear and unequivocal; it embodied the
strength and the simplicity of truth.
The French Government, on the other hand, had officially and falsely
declared to the Chambers, that the difficulties which had been raised
about the Treaty of the Tafna had been explained to the advantage of
France, and that the possession of the disputed territory was henceforth
assured. The pen had easily traced such words, and the mouth had freely
spoken them. But it required the sword to make good and establish this
foregone conclusion.
The state of doubt and uncertainty had now reached its utmost limit. The
period of compliments, of evasions, of hollow friendship, of
hypocritical alliance, had passed away. The co-existence of Abdel Kader
and France on the soil of Algeria was henceforth impossible. Freed from
the entanglements of diplomatic garniture, the gladiators again stood
face to face, ready to descend into the arena.
CHAPTER XIV.
1839-1840.
Marshal Valée, while informing his Government of the inutility of all
his efforts to induce Abdel Kader to yield to his remonstrances, made
proposals of his own as to the best mode of action to be pursued.
“The Government,” he suggested, “might either assume a defensive
attitude, protesting against the Emir’s seizure of the disputed
territory, and trusting to time and friendly offices to make him relax
his hold; or it might attack him at once; or, again, it might place a
force on the ground in question, intimating to the Emir that such a
measure was not intended as a hostile demonstration, but merely as a
joint occupation whilst the final arrangement was still pending.”
The Government accepted the last proposition, with the modification,
that, instead of the permanent occupation of Hamzé and its
neighbourhood, a corps should merely traverse the country, and that if
the Emir resented such a proceeding, explanations might be given.
The Duke of Orleans had lately arrived at Algiers. In order to give the
projected movement a greater degree of importance, it was arranged that
he should superintend its execution. An expedition was to start from
Milah, in the province of Constantine, penetrate the pass of the “Iron
Gates,” cross the disputed territory, and thence onwards to Algiers. All
the secrecy necessary for the accomplishment of a stratagem of war was
used in order to give effect to the project.
A demonstration was made towards Boujie. The Kabyles rushed to that
quarter to defend their country against the threatened invasion. The
Marshal and the Prince left Milah on the 18th October, 1839, and going
in an opposite direction, reached Setif on the 21st. Here, also, the
Kabyles presented themselves. Their sheiks demanded an interview.
Admitted to an audience with the French generals, they were shown
passports, bearing Abdel Kader’s seal, authorising the passage of French
troops, and they were satisfied. These passports were an artifice—Abdel
Kader’s seal had been forged!
In place of entering the Kabyle mountains, the column which had been
moved towards Boujie was countermarched, and joining the Marshal,
advanced with him in the direction of the “Iron Gates.” The country was
mountainous and intricate; but the Kabyle chiefs, serving as guides,
were all delighted to facilitate the progress of the friends and allies
of their Sultan. Under these auspicious circumstances the expedition,
amounting to nearly 5,000 men, passed through the formidable defile of
the “Iron Gates” without firing a shot. Had Abdel Kader been there with
but 500 men, they would either never have entered it, or never emerged
from it.
The next day the French passed through the Kabyle tribe, Beni Munsoor,
who stared at them as if they had dropped from the clouds. On the 31st
the column reached Ben Ini. There, at last, the French and Kabyles
exchanged shots. Ben Salem, the Emir’s Khalifa over that district,
starting, as from a troubled dream, when informed of the approach of the
French, had just had sufficient time to make a tardy and useless
demonstration against the invaders. On the 1st of November the Prince
and the Marshal made a triumphal entry into Algiers, and were greeted
with loud acclamations. The festivities to celebrate the event lasted
four whole days. A splendid entertainment was given on the esplanade of
the Bab-el-Oued to the heroes of the “Iron Gates.” Enthusiastic toasts
were drunk in their honour. A palm wreath, plucked and woven in the pass
itself, was formally presented to the Prince. Algeria was supposed to be
conquered. It was the triumph of Caligula over the cockle-shells of
Britain.
The idea on the part of the French Marshal had been that Abdel Kader
might possibly write an angry letter or two on hearing of this
unexpected irruption, that explanations would be given, and that there
the matter would end. He was soon undeceived. The news of the passage of
the “Iron Gates” reached Abdel Kader at Tekedemt. In eight-and-forty
hours, by riding night and day, he was at Medea, and on the 4th of
November he sent off the following dispatch to Marshal Valée:—
“We were at peace, and the limits between your country and mine were
clearly defined, when the King’s son set out with a _corps d’armée_ to
go from Constantine to Algiers; and this was done without giving me the
slightest intimation, without even writing me a line to explain away
such a violation of territory. If you had informed me that he had an
intention of visiting my country, I would either have accompanied him
myself, or sent one of my Khalifas to do so. But, so far from that, you
have proclaimed that all the country between Algiers and Constantine is
no longer under my orders. The rupture comes from you. Nevertheless,
that you may not accuse me of treachery, I give you warning that I am
about to recommence the war. Prepare yourself, then; warn all your
travellers, your garrisons, your stations; in a word, take all the
precautions you deem necessary.”
To his Khalifa Ben Salem, who had written for instructions how he was to
act, he addressed words of consolation and encouragement in the
following terms:—
“The rupture comes from the Christians! Your enemy is before you. Gather
up your banners, and prepare for battle. On all sides the signal for the
holy war is given. You are the man of these parts. I place you there to
bar their entrance.
“Beware of being disconcerted. Tighten your waist-band, and be ready for
everything. Rise to the height of events. Above all, learn patience. Let
human vicissitudes find you impassible. They are trials—God sends them.
Such trials are blended with the destiny of every good Mussulman who
vows to die for his faith. Victory, please God, shall crown your
perseverance. Salutation from Abdel Kader ibn Mehi-ed-deen.”
In similar words of sterling import, his other Khalifas were summoned to
instant action.
“Treason has burst upon us from the infidel,” wrote Abdel Kader. “The
proofs of his perfidy are glaring. He has traversed my territory without
my leave. Gather up your burnous, tighten your waist-bands for battle—it
is at hand. The public treasury is not rich; you yourselves have not
sufficient money to hand to make war. Levy, therefore, as soon as you
get the orders, an extraordinary impost. Be quick in action, and hasten
to join me at Medea, where I am awaiting you.”
Valée was loth to believe that all hopes of accommodation were
irrecoverably gone, and still more loth to enter into a struggle for
which he was wholly unprepared. The French colonists in the plain of
Algiers were utterly defenceless. No precautions whatever had been taken
for their safety and protection; as if Abdel Kader’s terrible daring,
promptness, and activity were things hitherto unfelt and unknown. Even
whilst the storm was hourly gathering on the mountains before his eyes,
Valée contented himself with reporting home, and sending the Jew Durand
on a mission to Medea, with a letter to Abdel Kader. This missive
concluded with these words:—
“Have a little patience; I expect orders from Paris; the affair will yet
be satisfactorily arranged.”
On the very day that Durand arrived at Medea, Nov. 14th, 1839, the
Khalifas, assembled together according to orders, were holding a grand
military council, presided over by the Sultan himself. Durand was
introduced, and the Marshal’s letter was read aloud. An agitated
discussion ensued, ending in an unanimous cry for war.
“You are wrong,” said Durand. “France is a powerful country. You have
had experience of her armies. You know how great is her strength, and
how vast are her resources. You will be defeated.”
“Then how long,” exclaimed Abdel Kader, “are we still to endure the
insults of the Christians? They have given us proofs upon proofs of
their bad faith.”
“I assure you,” said Durand, “you do wrong to get angry about a trifle.
The French have no wish to deceive you, or to quarrel with you; and if
the King’s son has passed through your country, it was only on a journey
of pleasure.”
The council adjourned till the following day. Abdel Kader and Durand
remained together alone.
The latter now endeavoured to convince his sovereign of the risks and
dangers he would incur by involving himself in another war. He
expatiated on the rawness of the troops which Abdel Kader had at his
command, his feeble resources, and the internal agitations which, more
or less, at all times fettered his actions, as opposed to the military
strength and discipline, and the unity and concentration of purpose,
which enabled the French to triumph over every obstacle.
“All that I know,” said Abdel Kader. “But my Khalifas loudly call for
war. My people already look upon me as an infidel because I have not yet
commenced it. I do not desire war. It is the French who are urging me
into it.”
The council met again; and again there was but one voice, and that was
for war—the holy war.
“Be it so,” said Abdel Kader, “since such is your desire. But I accede
to your wishes on one condition alone. You are going to be exposed to
fatigues, to hardships, to trials and reverses. You may despond, grow
weary of the contest, repent. Swear to me, then, on the sacred book of
God, that so long as I wave the standard of the Djehad, you will never
desert me.”
The chiefs and Khalifas all swore.
On the 18th November, 1839, Abdel formally declared war against the
French, in the following letter to Marshal Valée:—
“IL HADJ ABDEL KADER, PRINCE OF THE FAITHFUL, TO MARSHAL VALÉE.
“Peace and happiness on those who follow the path of truth.
“Your first and your last letters have reached us. We have read and
understood them. I have already informed you that all the Arabs, from
Ouelassa as far as Kef, are unanimous for the holy war. I have done all
in my power to appease them, but in vain. There is not a voice for
peace. All are preparing for war. I must conform to the general opinion,
in obedience to our sacred law. I am acting loyally by you in thus
informing you of what is passing. Send me back my consul who is in Oran,
that he may return to his family. Be prepared. All the Mussulmans
declare the holy war. Whatever may happen, you cannot accuse me of
treachery. My heart is pure, and never will you find me acting contrary
to justice.
“Written this Monday evening, at Medea, 11 Ramadan, 1255 (18th Nov.,
1839).
“P.S.—When I wrote to the king, he replied that you had the direction of
all affairs, both for peace and war. I choose war, as well as all the
Mussulmans. Consider yourself hereby warned, and answer as you think
proper. It is for you to speak, and no other.”
The lightning had darted from the cloud, and the storm burst. Such was
the admirable concert which pervaded the measures of Abdel Kader, that
in a few hours, from the heights of Beni Sala he saw his Arabs and
Kabyles spreading themselves all over the plains of Algiers. Fresh
relays came pouring down from the mountains on every side. The defiles
and gorges of the Atlas bristled with horse and foot. They came rolling
onwards like a mighty avalanche bursting its barriers and rushing on the
plains below.
The Khalifas of Medea and Miliana at the head of their bands crossed the
Cheliff. Ben Salem and his Kabyles closed in on the devoted French
stations and colonies from the east; the Hadjouts came raging on from
the west. The French cantonments, their agricultural establishments,
their model farms, their scattered outposts, were presently overwhelmed
and destroyed by the resistless and relentless cataclysm. The smoke of
blazing villages darkened the air. In many, the colonists were
massacred. Flying from others, the wretched fugitives were pursued to
the very gates of Algiers.
There the consternation surged and swelled like a tornado. The native
population menaced insurrection. Rumours, magnified into imagined
realities, filled every breast with alarm and terror. The wildest and
most impossible suggestions were received and treated as facts. Abdel
Kader was said to be advancing at the head of 30,000 men, preceded by
5,000 pioneers to sap the walls. The houses in the suburbs were
evacuated. The Marshal’s house, in the quarter of Mustapha Pacha, was
dismantled. The barracks bearing the same name were loopholed. For weeks
the terror and dismay went on increasing. Officers swept the horizon
with their telescopes, and were obliged to remain helpless spectators of
the scenes of devastation which spread before them. Provisions at length
fell short. Famine aggravated the horrors of distress and fear.
Now, like an eagle soaring from his eyrie, Abdel Kader hovered over the
field of carnage. Hordes of Kabyles followed in his train. These hardy
warriors, electrified by his appeals, had sworn to carry him
triumphantly into the heart of Algiers. Relying on their prowess and
devotion, he had solemnly fixed the day when his horse should drink at
the waters of Bab-el-Oued. But before leading them against the
redoubtable ramparts of the town itself, he resolved to essay their
firmness and resolution against the fort Boudourou.
The Kabyles rushed impetuously to the attack, but the cannon balls which
mowed down their ranks filled them with unaccustomed terror. They
vacillated, broke, retreated, and dispersed. Abdel Kader felt his prey
had eluded his grasp, and, in a paroxysm of grief and indignation,
exclaimed, as he looked at their broken ranks, “These, then, are the
proud Kabyles! May their vows be ever confounded. May their prayers be
never heard. May they live in misery and contempt. May they fall to that
degree of wretchedness, that a miserable Jew may have them at his feet.”
And he returned to his heights.
Marshal Valée had at last awakened to a sense of his situation. Blidah
and Bouffarick, at the foot of the Atlas, were hastily strengthened and
reinforced. A few thousand troops were sent out in detachments to
protect what remained of the ravaged colonial settlements. Urgent
dispatches to the Home Government fully stated the extent of the recent
disasters. The ministry ostentatiously declared their adoption of a firm
and irrevocable policy. Algeria was announced to be “henceforth and for
ever a French province.”
Reinforcements rapidly arrived at Algiers, and the effective force of
Marshal Valée was soon raised to 30,000 combatants. It was for him so to
handle them as to make a permanent impression on his restless and
indefatigable enemy. The system adopted by his predecessors—of sudden
incursions, followed by as sudden retreats—was abandoned. His plan of
attack comprised three elements of action. These were—to seize and
destroy the strongholds which Abdel Kader had erected, and with them his
arsenals, his magazines, his stores; to attack and annihilate his
regulars, the mainstay of his power; and to occupy permanently the
districts inhabited by the principal Arab tribes, and by thus showing
them how wholly unable their Sultan was to defend or protect them, to
destroy his influence and power.
Abdel Kader was at this moment virtually the sovereign of all Algeria
with the exception of the towns on the sea-coast. Oran and Tittery were
his by treaty. The tribes stretching along the south of the province of
Constantine acknowledged his sway. The Sahara, for the most part, obeyed
his mandates. Nominally, 70,000 cavalry were at his beck; although in
reality he could only depend on the Arab contingents who were directly
controlled by his Khalifas, or who were within the sweep of his arm. His
fighting force was about 30,000 cavalry, regular and irregular, and
6,000 regular infantry.
Concentrating his force at Blidah, at the foot of the lesser Atlas,
Valée prepared to carry his first offensive movement into effect, by
marching on Medea and Miliana. The river Chiffa was passed on the 27th
April, 1840. The Sultan’s cavalry now appeared in considerable numbers.
The right wing of the French army extended towards a lake, but without
reaching it. Abdel Kader threw his squadrons into the intermediate
space, passed on, and disappeared. The plain of Algiers thus became
exposed to his blows; and for some time it was thought that he was
advancing in that direction, sweeping everything before him. But the
movement had only been a feint. The object of Abdel Kader was to force
Valée to abandon his march along the valley of the Cheliff, and to
oblige him to enter the mountains by the gorges of the Mouzaia. In this
purpose he succeeded.
He had been for months labouring night and day to render these
formidable passes still more formidable by all the appliances of art. It
was here, he declared, the French army should find its grave. Every
available height and eminence had been cut into entrenchments. A redoubt
with heavy batteries crowned the highest peak. In its immediate vicinity
were placed his regular infantry—the battalions of Medea, Miliana,
Mascara, Sebaou, and Tekedemt, officered by French deserters. Arabs and
Kabyles swarmed in all directions, and, crouched in nooks and crevices,
stood ready to open a dropping fire on the French column, as it wound
its way with staid and heavy tread along the narrow causeway which hung
midway on the mountain slopes.
Valée divided his force into three columns. These were led by Duvivier,
Lamoricière, and D’Hautpoul. To the astonishment of the Arabs, the
French, leaving the road, came vaulting over the steeps. Ravines, woods,
and rocks were all equally mastered by them. Slowly but surely they were
reaching the entrenchments. Suddenly a thick mist enveloped the scene.
The firing was incessant. It flashed and sparkled through the vapoury
panoply like the coruscations of a phosphorescent sea. The mist rolled
away. The combatants had met. They fought hand to hand. The Arabs and
Kabyles clung with desperation to their hiding-places. The French
clambered up, grasping at shrubs, branches, and sprigs. They appeared
able to surmount every difficulty before them.
There still remained the grand redoubt. Abdel Kader here made a last
stand in person. His regulars and masses of the Kabyles rallied round
him. The converging columns of the French came creeping on. The roll of
drums and the clang of trumpets resounded on every side. The Arabs were
bewildered by the ubiquity of their foes. Alike attacked in front and
menaced in rear, they wavered, broke, and fled. Lamoricière and his
Zouaves, Changarnier and the 2nd Light Infantry burst over the
entrenchments. The tricolour waved on the highest summit of the Atlas.
Abdel Kader retreated on Miliana. On arriving there he found the
inhabitants in the very act of deserting the town. Placing himself in
the gateway, he drew his sword, and threatened to cut down the first
that crossed his path. The panic ceased. The people returned. Valée, in
the meantime, entered Medea, and found it abandoned and half burnt.
Abdel Kader had made his last attempt to fight the French on the
principles of European warfare. It had failed. He never repeated the
experiment. All his Khalifas and chiefs received orders never again to
encounter the French in masses, but to confine themselves to harassing
them, hanging on their flanks and rear, cutting off their
communications, falling on their baggage and transports, and, by feigned
retreats, by ambuscades, by sudden and unexpected sallies, perplexing,
wearying, and bewildering them.
Valée, after leaving a garrison in Medea, under Duvivier, prepared to
return to the plains. He advanced on Miliana, which Abdel Kader at once
evacuated. But when the French column took its departure and entered the
mountain passes, Abdel Kader quickly resumed his ascendancy, and by
unceasing attacks, day and night, compelled it to emerge from its
perilous position at the sacrifice of whole companies annihilated,
baggage captured, and wounded abandoned.
It now became necessary for the French to re-victual their garrisons in
Medea and Miliana. This dangerous task was entrusted to Changarnier, who
accomplished it with consummate skill and daring, whilst his troops were
running a gauntlet of fire. Closely blockaded by Abdel Kader, these
garrisons had led a life of privation and suffering difficult to
portray. The Arabs and Kabyles occupied all the surrounding country.
They attacked the French foraging parties. The most daring and vigorous
sorties, though scaring them for the moment, made no permanent
impression on their vulture-like tenacity. In the month of October,
1840, the garrison of Miliana had nearly disappeared under the
complicated effects of famine, fever, and nostalgia. Out of 1,500 men,
750 were dead, 500 were in the hospital, and the remainder, poor
crawling skeletons, could hardly hold their muskets.
Not only in the mountains of Tittery did Abdel Kader hold the French in
his iron grasp. From the frontiers of Morocco to those of Tunis he kept
them constantly at bay, counteracting or nullifying their operations by
his almost superhuman efforts. Ever in the saddle, sudden and mysterious
in his movements, to-day engaged with the French, on the morrow a
hundred miles off, rallying and inspiriting a flagging tribe of Arabs—he
seemed, with his constitution of iron, to dispense with rest or repose;
as though his body had become in a manner etherealised by the fiery soul
within.
CHAPTER XV.
1841-1842.
With the year 1841 commenced the real and decisive struggle. The French,
with too exclusive reliance on their superiority in discipline and
resources, calculated that it would terminate in a few months. Owing to
the unimagined means of resistance evoked and wielded by the great chief
who defied them, it was destined yet to last, with alternate
vicissitudes of success, for six years.
On the 22nd of February, 1841, General Bugeaud assumed the functions of
Governor-General of Algeria. Abdel Kader regarded the appointment as a
hopeful presage. He would have little difficulty, he conceived, in
coming to a good understanding with one who had already sanctioned and
confirmed his claims to regal power. One of his most famous
predecessors, Ouchba-ibn-Naifé, lieutenant of the Caliph Mouaiah,
towards the close of the seventh century, after having led his
victorious Arabs from Alexandria to Morocco, had signed a treaty with
the Christian Emperor of Constantinople, by which he was to be paramount
ruler in the interior, while the latter was to be content with holding
the towns along the coast.
Such was the arrangement which Abdel Kader had always fondly hoped to
see established between himself and the French Government. He thought it
not impossible that the new Governor-General might be induced to support
and promote such a solution of existing difficulties. Bugeaud’s first
proclamation quickly undeceived him. The General therein declared that
his opinions on Algerian affairs were completely changed. So far from
the French occupation being limited, it was to be extended. Every rival
power was to be crushed.
In truth, the French Government had at length taken the measure of their
formidable adversary, and had placed 85,000 men at Bugeaud’s disposal.
With such an imposing force it was anticipated that Abdel Kader would
soon be beaten and driven out of the field.
But the great difficulty was not so much to defeat Abdel Kader as to
overtake him. The French were stronger; but he was lighter. The former
moved along beaten routes in long columns, encumbered with artillery,
ambulances, and baggage. The latter seeing his enemy’s point of attack,
evaded him for the moment, and then fell on him when at fault, entangled
in ravines and lost amidst precipices. With the Romans, the French might
truly say, “Nostros asperitas et insolentiæ loci retinebant.”
Bugeaud altered the tactics of his predecessors. Movable columns winding
in various directions obliged Abdel Kader to disseminate his forces, and
kept him dubious and uncertain. Heavy baggage and heavy ordnance were
abandoned. Recesses hitherto unapproachable, became accessible. Even the
commissariat was dispensed with.
The Arabs had one immense advantage over the French. Wherever they went
they found provisions. The _silos_ scattered over the land afforded them
a never-failing resource. The French had to carry their provisions with
them. The difference was serious and important. Lamoricière solved the
problem. “The Arabs carry no provisions,” said that General, “why should
we?” And he forthwith took the field for a month.
His men carried a few portable hand-mills. On reaching a given tract of
country, they spread themselves out in skirmishing order, sometimes a
league in extent. They probed the ground before them, as they advanced,
with their swords and bayonets. The stones concealing the underground
granaries were struck. They had been but loosely and scantily covered
with earth. The _silos_ were discovered. Razzias procured sheep. The
hand-mills converted corn into flour; and thus the French troops found
themselves provisioned on the very spot where they stood.
Bugeaud’s military operations were based on the double principle of
conservation and aggression. The main objects of his tactics consisted
in re-victualling his garrisons, which barely held their own amidst the
ever-active foes surrounding them on every side; in keeping in
subjection the Arab tribes who had already surrendered to his arms, by
giving them an efficient organisation under French officers,—in
overawing others by inexorable razzias and ruthless burning of their
crops; and, lastly, in striking, without pause or cessation, at Abdel
Kader’s power in all its vital parts, by occupying his strong positions,
destroying his arsenals, rasing his fortresses, with the hope of forcing
him back, by continual pressure, into the wilds of the Sahara.
The campaign of 1841 opened with a second re-victualling of Medea and
Miliana. The losses of the French, before they effected that object,
were immense. Abdel Kader disputed every inch of the ground. Bugeaud had
gone to the province of Oran. From Mostaganem he led in person an
expedition against Tekedemt. On reaching it, May 25th, he found it
deserted and partly in flames. Boghar, Saida, and Taza, were
successively destroyed.
Abdel Kader, faithful to his lately-adopted system, had determined not
to waste his forces in vain attempts to defend his fortresses. He
abandoned them all. His regular army was more usefully and successfully
employed in harassing the French on their lines of march, or in keeping
wavering tribes to their allegiance. In the new style of warfare which
he was now called upon to confront, walled towns were an encumbrance to
him—impediments, in fact, of which he felt glad to be relieved.
The following characteristic letter, addressed by him about this time to
General Bugeaud, admirably portrays the buoyancy of spirit which
animated him at a period when everything seemed to indicate his hopeless
and irretrievable ruin:—
“What is that craving thus urging France, which calls itself a strong
and peaceful nation, to come and make war against us? Has she not
sufficient territory? What harm can all she has taken do us, compared
with what still remains to us? She will advance, we will retire; but
she, in her turn, will be obliged to retire; and then we shall return.
“And you, the Governor-General, what injury can you do us? In battle you
lose as many men as we do. Your army is yearly decimated by disease.
What compensation do you think you can offer your king and your country
for your enormous losses in men and money? A tract of ground, and the
stones of Mascara!
“You burn, you ravage our crops, you pillage our _silos_. But what
signifies to us the loss of the plain of Eghrees, of which you have not
ravaged even a twentieth part, when we possess so many others? The
ground you take from us is but as a drop of water taken from the sea. We
will fight you just when we think proper; and you know we are not
cowards.
“As to our opposing the forces you drag after you, it would be folly.
But we will harass them; we will wear them out; we will cut them up in
detail; the climate will do the rest. Does the wave cease to rise and
swell when a bird skims it? That is the image of your passage in
Africa.”
The French had, indeed, already reason to shrink from the task before
them. What with the losses entailed upon them by marches and counter-
marches, by incessant fighting, by blasting heats, their army had nearly
vanished away. Bugeaud, at the close of the year 1841, had to report,
that of 60,000 men, he had only 4,000 fit for duty.
The French Government again sought relief in projects of peace. If the
Emir would raise the blockade of the French garrisons, and nominally lay
down his arms (it being understood, at the same time, that 30,000 stand
should be secretly paid for), all his former rights would be confirmed,
it said, all the territory taken from him restored. Abdel Kader laughed
at the proposition. “Let the French keep the towns,” he replied. “Will
the towns give them food? So long as I hold the country, and can attack
and intercept their convoys, my position will still be superior to
theirs.”
The very fact, that a proposal for peace had been first broached by the
French themselves, confirmed Abdel Kader in his resolution to try the
extremities of war. He had already twice reduced them to terms, before
his fortresses and arsenals existed. The elements he then wielded still
remained to him, even after the loss of these strongholds, and, in
truth, were even more effective than before. The Arab tribes had been
organised; they moved by a common impulse; they expanded and contracted
by word of command; when least dreaded, they attacked; when pursued,
they disappeared. Such was henceforth to be the formidable but ever
fluctuating principle of Abdel Kader’s operations.
To break the links of this well-compacted chain, and destroy the
influence which held it together, by establishing permanent centres of
action in the very heart of the Arab confederation, and by rapidly
consecutive expeditions radiating from these centres, to give his troops
the ubiquity of the Arabs, became Bugeaud’s main object.
It was determined that the province of Oran, as the chief seat of Abdel
Kader’s power, should henceforward be regarded as the principal scene of
operations. Lamoricière occupied Mascara; Bedeau held Tlemsen;
Changarnier watched the western frontier of the plain of Algiers;
D’Aumale menaced Tittery. All these were men of promise, able, bold,
enterprising, successful; but destined, at a later period, to experience
the fickleness of fortune.
Three columns moving from Oran and Mostaganem were despatched to act
upon the tribes occupying the vast extent of territory between the sea
and the Atlas, as well as those extending towards the Sahara. The first,
headed by Bugeaud in person, advanced along the valley of the Cheliff,
and then made its junction with the second column under Changarnier,
which had started from Blidah. The third column, commanded by
Lamoricière, aimed at pushing Abdel Kader back to the south, with the
view of isolating him from the tribes attacked by Bugeaud and
Changarnier.
Now commenced those wonderful episodes, thrilling in their effect,
sublime in their grandeur, as marvels of daring and genius, by which
Abdel Kader stamped this glorious struggle in which he was engaged with
the impress of his own extraordinary individuality.
Lamoricière, zealously acting up to the instructions given him, to
pursue and overtake the Sultan, was always fancying himself on the
traces of his object. Suddenly he heard that Abdel Kader was before
Mascara. When he had contrived to arrive by forced marches at that
place, he was told that Abdel Kader had passed by the rear of his
column, and was making a razzia on the Borgia tribes.
Again came the pursuit, and again Abdel Kader, by a bold and rapid
manœuvre, leaving his bewildered foes behind him, dashed across the
Cheliff, placed himself between Bugeaud and the sea, recovered his
ascendancy over the tribes who had deserted him in that direction, made
another sweeping razzia to the south of Miliana, and then, rushing back
to the Sahara, showed himself there in full force, just as the French
had returned, in despair of finding him, to their cantonments.
By ever-recurring evolutions of this nature, slipping between the
enemy’s columns, flitting in their front, hovering on their flank,
falling on their rear, never at fault, never discouraged, sometimes in
the mountains, sometimes in the plains, disconcerting and rendering
abortive the most scientific military combinations, Abdel Kader amply
compensated for the disparity of his means, and counterbalanced the
manifold disadvantages under which he laboured.
Leaving to his Khalifas in Oran the duty of carrying on the desultory
kind of warfare which he had so rigidly prescribed, Abdel Kader now
repaired to the Traara Mountains on the frontiers of Morocco. The
military skill and diplomatic aptitude of Bedeau had imposed obedience
on many of the frontier tribes. Abdel Kader saw his communications with
Morocco menaced, and it was from Morocco that he drew, for the most
part, his arms, his clothing, his ammunition, not, as has been
erroneously stated, by splendid and gratuitous grants from Sultan
Abderahman, but by the ordinary course of commercial transactions.
The Kabyles of Nedrouma, once his most devoted partisans, had, amongst
others, submitted to the French general. The sight of Abdel Kader
amongst them at once rekindled all their former loyalty and enthusiasm.
They prayed for forgiveness; they asked to be allowed to wipe out their
shame on the field of glory. The Beni Snassen, and other frontier
tribes, followed their example, and rallied again around his standard.
These, in addition to his own regulars, gave him about 3,000 cavalry and
5,000 infantry,—a force sufficient to confront the enemy.
During the months of March and April, 1842, the hills and valleys of the
Traara and Nedrouma Mountains, the banks of the Tafna and the Sickak,
became the scenes of constant encounters between him and General Bedeau.
The fate of the campaign still hung doubtfully in the balance, when
Abdel Kader was summoned to the environs of Mascara. Despite the
precautions of his brother-in-law, Mustapha-ibn-Tamy, of Il Berkani, and
of Sidi Embarak, his most illustrious chiefs, Lamoricière was gaining
ground. Several tribes had gone over; a large portion even of the
Hashems, his own tribe, had been carried away by the contagious example.
Lamoricière, imagining Abdel Kader to be sufficiently occupied by
Bedeau, had extended his excursions towards the Sahara. Abdel Kader
seized the opportune occasion to re-assert and enforce his power amongst
the tribes who had deserted him around Mascara. But, with due
discrimination, he drew a line between wilful treason and unavoidable
secession. Wherever there were proofs of collusion with the French, of
treasonable correspondence, of active participation, his punishments
were severe and unsparing. Terrible, indeed, were, at times, the
examples he made of tribes who, by their premeditated alliance with the
infidel, had justly drawn down upon themselves the fearful punishment
awarded by the Koran upon traitors to their religion and their God.
Lamoricière hurried back in all haste on hearing of the Sultan’s re-
appearance on his own field of operations. But he had to re-conquer all
the territory he had lately gained. To his surprise, tribes, which had
but recently joined him, now stood coalesced against him. Fighting his
way gallantly through all obstacles, he eagerly sought to measure his
sword with the moving genius of this unexpected revival. He heard that
Abdel Kader was in force at Tekedemt, and on Tekedemt he forthwith
marched.
He arrived there, indeed, but just in time to learn that Abdel Kader had
fallen on Changarnier in the direction of Miliana. That general,
counting on the absence of his redoubtable foe, was there engaged in the
comparatively easy task of subduing some refractory tribes. One day he
found himself enveloped with an overwhelming force of Arabs and Kabyles,
horse and foot, regulars and irregulars, led on by Abdel Kader in
person, and rushing furiously to the combat.
For two days and nights the battle raged incessantly. The combatants
engaged in deadly strife, hand to hand and foot to foot with pistols,
swords, yataghans, or bayonets. Suddenly the combat ceased. Abdel Kader
drew off his army and disappeared. The French had suffered too severely
and were too exhausted to follow him up. Two days afterwards news
reached them to the effect that Abdel Kader had dashed into the Metija,
was ravaging the plains, and carrying terror to the very gates of
Algiers.
Bearing away to his right, after performing this exploit, Abdel Kader
ascended the Atlas, penetrated to the Ouarensis, beyond Tittery, and
reached the Sahara. Everywhere he occupied himself in arousing
populations, inspiriting tribes, and organising contingents. After
sweeping over a space of some three hundred leagues, he returned, with
recruited forces and increased energy, to press upon the garrison of
Mascara, under Lamoricière, with all the rigours of a winter blockade.
Notwithstanding all these incredible and in some measure successful
efforts, which were now, more than ever, necessary to sustain him in his
arduous and double task of thwarting the designs of his formidable
enemies from without, and of curbing the fast-spreading spirit of
defection within, Abdel Kader began to feel that he was struggling with
adverse fortune. All his fixed establishments had been invaded and
destroyed. The ketna, his ancestral abode, had been ravaged and laid
waste. The members of his own family were outcasts. More than all, the
families of his most faithful adherents were constantly exposed, despite
all his vigilance, to rude visits from detested strangers, clothed in
uncouth garb, the soldiers of the infidel, who violated the sanctity of
the harem with heartless mockery and vindictive malice.
Feelings of religion and humanity urgently compelled him to take
measures to meet the exigencies of such a painful and trying emergency.
He determined to remove altogether from the scene of war those whom it
was impossible for him to desert, and whom in the hour of need he might
be unable to rescue. He formed his _Smala_.
This new and singular organisation was simply an agglomeration of
private hearths. To the _Smala_ as to a common asylum and place of
security, the Arab tribes sent their treasures, their herds, their
women, their children, their aged and their sick. It became an immense
moving capital, amounting to more than 20,000 souls. It followed the
Sultan’s movements, advancing to the more cultivated districts, or
retreating to the Sahara, according to the fluctuations of his fortunes.
When in the Sahara, the numerous tents of the _Smala_ were lost in the
distant horizon. When in the Tell, they filled up the valley, and
covered the slopes of the mountains. It was arranged with military
regularity. The _deiras_, or households, with their tents varying in
number according to the respective strength of each, were distributed
into four large encampments. Each _deira_ knew its place. Each chief had
his station marked and his functions appointed, according to his
importance or the confidence he inspired.
Abdel Kader spared no pains to encourage and popularise a system of
emigration, which daily increased from the strongest of human impulses,
and thus gradually and imperceptibly bound the Arab tribes to him by the
strongest of human ties. Four tribes were set apart to watch, protect,
and guide the _Smala_ in its wanderings. A body of regulars kept guard
over it. Jews were expressly commissioned to advance sums of money to
the needy.
Ultimately, indeed, the _Smala_ became a powerful check on the
disaffection of the tribes. For when the French, alluring them with fair
promises, said to them, “Come over to us, we will protect you,” an
invisible voice whispered in their ears, “I have your women, your
children, your flocks, beware!” Thus, an establishment, which was at
first constituted by Abdel Kader as a measure of domestic arrangement,
became in his hands a vast and widely extended political engine.
CHAPTER XVI.
1841-1842.
It was the month of March, 1841; the night was cold, dark, and
tempestuous. More than a thousand fires glimmered in house, and tent,
and bivouac. Men were anxiously discussing the past stages and future
prospects of the war. Generals were conning their maps; soldiers were
drinking the old accustomed toasts to love and glory; priests were
reading their breviaries; the Bishop of Algiers had just finished
midnight mass. Suddenly a young woman, holding a little girl by the
hand, rushed into his apartment, threw herself at his feet, and in
accents of wild despair exclaimed:—“My husband; the father of my child!”
Her husband had disappeared in the frightful hurricane of war which had
devastated the plain of Algiers. But he was safe; he was with Abdel
Kader.
The good bishop had long deplored, though unavailingly, the melancholy
fate of French prisoners in the hands of the Arabs. He had often
suggested measures for their relief, but French national pride and
dignity had hitherto opposed an impassable barrier to his benevolent
designs. Now, however, touched and excited by the scene before him, he
determined to break the restraints imposed on him, and, confident of
finding a response in the breast of the magnanimous chief to whom he was
about to appeal, he wrote to Abdel Kader.
“You do not know me,” he said, “but my profession is, to serve God, and
in Him to love all men, his children and my brethren. If I was able to
mount on horseback I should dread neither the blackness of the night nor
the roaring of the tempest. I would present myself at the door of your
tent, and would cry out in a voice which, if my idea of you deceives me
not, you would be unable to resist, ‘Restore to me my unfortunate
brother, fallen into your warlike hands.’ But I cannot come myself.
“Let me then send you one of my followers, and let the letter which he
will present to you, and which I have written in haste, supply the place
of that verbal appeal which God would have blessed, for it would have
proceeded from the bottom of my heart.
“I have neither gold nor silver to offer you. Your only recompense will
be the sincere prayers and the deep-felt gratitude of the family on
whose behalf I write. ‘Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain
mercy.’”
Abdel Kader at once replied in the following terms:—“I have received
your letter and comprehended it. It has not surprised me, after all I
had heard of your sacred character. Nevertheless, permit me to observe
that in the double title you assume of servant of God and friend of men,
your brethren, you ought to have demanded from me not merely the liberty
of one, but of all the Christians who have been made prisoners of war
since the resumption of hostilities.
“Nay more. Would you not be, in a twofold manner, worthy of the mission
of which you speak, if, not content with procuring such a boon for two
or three hundred Christians, you were to endeavour to extend it to an
equal number of Mussulmans who languish in your prisons?”
The celebrated exchange of prisoners at Sidi Khalifa, May 21st, 1841,
was the glorious fruits of this touching fusion of two noble hearts.
The bishop had reserved some Arab orphans whose parents had died in
French captivity. He expected a protest. To his surprise and
astonishment he received a present and a recommendation. “I send you a
flock of goats,” wrote the catholic-minded Sultan of the Arabs, “with
their young who are still sucking. With these you will be able for some
time longer to nourish the little children you have adopted, and who
have lost their mothers. Pray excuse this gift, for it is very
trifling.”
The generous care, the tender sympathy exhibited by Abdel Kader towards
his prisoners is almost unparalleled in the annals of warfare. Christian
generals might sit at his feet in this respect and blush for their
degeneracy. No doubt the prisoners taken by the Arabs were often exposed
to the insults of their barbarous captors, especially when falling
amongst tribes exasperated by the sufferings inflicted on them by the
French. Effectually, however, though slowly, the spirit inculcated by
the Sultan at length gained ground. Barbarism recoiled before it, mercy
prevailed, humanity triumphed.
Wherever Abdel Kader was present, indeed, the French in his power were
treated more like guests than prisoners. He frequently sent them, in
secret, sums of money, varying from five to twenty dollars, out of his
privy purse. They were sure to be well clothed and well fed. Abdel Kader
even went so far as to desire that their spiritual wants should receive
due attention.
It is thus the uncompromising champion of Islamism writes on the
subject, in words that deserve to be printed in letters of gold, to the
Bishop of Algiers:—“Send a priest to my camp. He shall want for nothing.
I will take care he shall be honoured and respected as becomes his
double character of a man of God, and your representative.
“He shall pray with the prisoners daily, he shall console them, and he
shall correspond with their families. He may thus be the means of
procuring them money, clothes, books, in a word, everything they may
desire or want, to soften the rigours of their captivity. Only, on his
arriving here, he must solemnly promise, once for all, never to allude
in his letters to my encampments or military movements.”
The very sight of a prisoner seemed to touch a chord within the breast
of Abdel Kader, which called forth all the more lofty sentiments and
magnanimous feelings ennobling to human nature. His heart, so stern and
dauntless when confronted with danger, expanded and softened with all a
woman’s tenderness before the captive’s dark and dreary fate, like
flowers which only exhale their fragrance to the shades of night.
“Sultan,” said two French prisoners who were brought before him, “we
wish to become Mussulmans; we are ready to make profession of your
religion.”
“If you do so in good faith,” replied Abdel Kader, “well and good. But
if you are needlessly alarmed at your present situation, you will do
wrong. Though you are, and remain Christians, not a hair of your heads
shall be touched. Consider rather what will happen to you should you
return to your countrymen after having renounced your faith. Would you
not be treated as the most criminal of deserters? How can you hope to
benefit by the occasion should an exchange of prisoners take place?”
A French prisoner, kindling with indignation at the bare mention of
apostacy, exclaimed, in presence of Abdel Kader, “As for me, I will
never renounce my religion. You may cut off my head, but make me a
renegade, never!”
“Be perfectly easy, your life is sacred with me,” was the reply of Abdel
Kader. “I like to hear such language. You are a brave and loyal man, and
merit my esteem. I honour courage in religion more than courage in war.”
A celebrated Moroccan chief asked to see the French prisoners. Having
remarked a trumpeter, he asked him to play a tune. The trumpeter sounded
the charge. “What does that mean?” said the chief. “Tell the Sultan,”
said the trumpeter, “that when he hears that sound, the sooner he gives
his horse the reins and gallops off, the better.” The chief, feeling
himself insulted, demanded that the offender should have the bastinado.
“No, no,” said Abdel Kader, “we must be generous and forbearing to our
prisoners.”
Abdel Kader’s repugnance to see female prisoners was extreme. The
thought that women should become victims of war was a source of constant
anxiety to him. One day, the cavalry of one of his Khalifas brought him
in four young women, as a brilliant capture. He turned away in disgust.
“Lions,” he said, sarcastically, “attack strong animals; jackals fall
upon the weak.”
Once he and his followers were reduced to the greatest straits.
Subsistence could hardly be procured. In this extremity, he bethought
him of ninety-four French prisoners lying in his camp in the greatest
misery. He released them all without ransom or exchange. He even had
them escorted to the advanced posts, where they were delivered over to
their comrades, astounded by such an act of generosity.
Numberless acts of magnanimity, known only to the French superior
officers whom he encountered, or with whom he corresponded, testified to
the elevation of his soul. One general officer has since said, “We were
obliged to conceal these things as much as we could from our soldiers;
for if they suspected them, we should never have got them to fight with
the due ardour against Abdel Kader.”
Some French artisans had, by permission of the Governor-General, entered
into a contract with Abdel Kader to execute certain works in four of the
towns he was rebuilding. They were to receive 3,000 francs each. The war
broke out before their contract was completed; nearly half of their work
had yet to be completed. They petitioned for leave to return.
Not only did Abdel Kader at once consent, but he gave them a safe-
conduct and an escort through tribes who were all in arms, and crying
out for French blood. At the frontier the entire sum which had been
agreed upon was counted down to the French artisans, who were thus paid
by the Sultan for works which they had actually not finished.
Converted, animated, inspired by such an example, the Sultan’s chiefs
and delegates, throughout the provinces and districts under their
control, for the most part engaged willingly and cordially in acts of
sympathy, kindness, and hospitality to their fallen foes. Such were Ibn
Salem and Ben Hamedi; such a one, also, was Sidi Embarak, that brilliant
reflex of his master’s mind, whose prisoners, when released, subscribed
to present him with pistols of honour.
But, in all those tender offices which soothe and assuage the
unutterable sufferings of the estranged and forlorn, none exceeded the
Sultan’s mother, the mild, the gentle Leila Zohra. She assumed, as by
inherent right, the guardianship of all the female prisoners. The care
and solicitude she lavished on them was as extraordinary as it was
exemplary. They occupied a tent close to hers. Two of her negro slaves
guarded the entrances. No one was allowed to approach them without an
order. Every morning they received from her own hands presents of oil,
butter, meat, and other articles, for their repast. Did sickness
overtake any of them, she would bring them, with maternal anxiety, tea,
sugar, coffee—anything she thought would contribute to their ease and
comfort.
One day, a batch of French prisoners was brought in and placed
temporarily near her tent. She came out to see them. “What have you come
to do in our country?” she observed, looking on them with compassion;
“it was calm and prosperous, and you have covered it with the desolation
of war. No doubt, it is the will of God which is being accomplished; but
that God is all-powerful, His designs are impenetrable. Perhaps, one of
these days, in the hour of reconciliation, we may restore you to your
homes and families.” Such words of hope, which thrilled through the
breasts, and cheered the wounded spirits of the unhappy prisoners, and
seemed to them like distant gleams of future freedom already beaming on
their captivity, revealed, in one glorious trait, the mother of Abdel
Kader.
By his humanity, Abdel Kader had done much more than only inaugurate a
new era in the treatment of prisoners amongst the Arabs; it was due to
him that soldiers had ever been spared on the field to be taken
prisoners at all. The very word “prisoner” had been hitherto unknown
amongst their savage tribes. To show no quarter, to massacre all who
came in their way and fell into their hands, to count their vanquished
enemies by the number of bloody heads dangling on their horses’ flanks,
and to receive prizes for them, had been their custom, until custom had
almost grown into an instinct.
Who was the first to abolish such atrocious practices? Who prohibited,
with all the severity which circumstances would allow, the custom of
adding to the heads of those who had been slain in open fight, the heads
of prisoners taken alive, wounded or not? Who, in place of the sum of
money heretofore given for each of these sanguinary trophies, gave
double and triple the sum for every prisoner brought in safe and
sound?—Again and again, let Christendom and the whole civilised world be
told, that it was Abdel Kader.
Nor was it without the risk of a general insurrection that Abdel Kader
insisted and persevered in the new course he had marked out. Undeterred,
however, by threats, unshaken by menaces, he went steadily on till he
had achieved the moral revolution dictated to him by religion and
humanity. One of his soldiers, at the commencement of this reform,
insolently demanded of him—
“How much will you give for a prisoner?”
“Eight dollars.”
“And how much for a head cut off?”
“Twenty-five blows on the soles of the feet.”
One day, Abdel Kader desired that five prisoners, already some weeks in
custody, should be brought before him. Three were immediately summoned
by the Khalifa, to whose charge they had been given. The latter,
dreading the Sultan’s queries, turned to the prisoners and said—
“There, take these burnouses, throw them over your shoulders; the Sultan
calls for you. If he asks you any questions, mind you say that you have
been well treated, and that you have wanted for nothing.”
“Very good; but if we are asked if those burnouses are our own?”
“Say that you have had them a long time.”
“Agreed.”
“Woe to you if you make any complaint. Now follow me to the Sultan.”
After having given these warnings, the Khalifa proceeded with his
prisoners to the tent of the Sultan. Abdel Kader was seated in one
corner, surrounded by his principal chiefs and Marabouts. The reception
of the prisoners was designedly solemn. The Arabs and their Sultan
preserved a mysterious silence. The three prisoners advanced, preceded
by Hadj Mustapha, the Sultan’s brother-in-law.
“Which of you is the trumpeter?” said the Sultan.
“I am.”
“Take that letter, it is for you.”
As the prisoner read the letter, his cheeks became flushed; tears rushed
into his eyes; his limbs trembled with excitement. It was a letter from
his General, informing him that the Legion of Honour had been conferred
on him, for his bravery in devoting himself for the safety of his
colonel, in the affair of Sept. 22nd, 1843.
“Step forward,” said the Sultan.
The trumpeter advanced a few paces.
Abdel Kader, with his own hands, fixed the Cross of the Legion of Honour
on his breast.
Then, turning to his brother-in-law, he said:—
“I only see three prisoners. There were five: where are the other two?”
“They are dead.”
“Since when?”
“A long time ago.”
“Did they die of sickness?”
“We shot them.”
“Shot them!” exclaimed the Sultan, looking sternly at his brother-in-
law.
“They tried to escape.”
“Is that a reason for killing them? This is wicked, unjust, infamous. If
the French were to kill my Arabs who are their prisoners, what would you
say?”
“Dogs of Christians.”
“Enough; for shame! I will have no more of these doings. Do you
understand me? This shall and must be the last. Give the prisoners
thirty francs a-piece, place them in my camp, and mind they are well
provided for.”
From this moment, Abdel Kader determined to procure a national edict as
regarded the treatment of prisoners; for notwithstanding all his
vigilance, isolated instances of barbarity still continued to occur. He
convoked a grand council of all the Khalifas, the Agas, the Kaids, and
chiefs of tribes. Three hundred assembled. Standing up before them, he
took for the text of his oration, an article in the Koran, where
Mohammed blames his brother-in-law Ali for having slain five hundred
infidels after they had surrendered.
Applying this passage to the case of French soldiers taken prisoners,
Abdel Kader vehemently insisted that they should no more be wantonly
killed or mutilated. After eloquently showing, to the conviction of his
audience, the inhumanity, the disgrace, the inutility of such actions,
he demanded a decree to the effect, that every Frenchman, whether taken
in action or otherwise, should be looked upon as a prisoner, and be
treated with every consideration, until an opportunity presented itself
for effecting his exchange.
The proposition of the Sultan received the approval of the majority of
the council. The following decree was at once drawn up; and hundreds of
copies were made, and forthwith distributed throughout all the towns,
villages, and tents, in the Sultan’s dominions:—
“Be it ordained, that every Arab who shall bring in a French soldier, or
a Christian, safe and sound, shall receive a reward, amounting to eight
dollars for a male, and ten dollars for a female.
“Every Arab who has a Frenchman or a Christian in his possession, is
held responsible for his good treatment. He is hereby commanded, on pain
of the severest punishment, to conduct his prisoner, without delay,
either to the nearest Khalifa, or before the Sultan himself. On doing
this, he shall receive the promised reward.
“In the case of any prisoner complaining of the slightest ill-treatment,
the Arab, his captor, shall lose all claims for reward.”
Once—and once only—after the publication of this order, it was reported
to Abdel Kader that one of his regulars had been taken up with a
Frenchman’s head in his hands. Starting with indignation, he instantly
wrote to the Khalifa of the district where the case had occurred,
commanding him to bring the culprit forthwith to head-quarters. He
resolved to make a severe example. His regular regiments, both infantry
and cavalry, and the contingents of irregular cavalry, of the tribes
nearest by, were all convoked to a grand parade.
On the day, and at the hour fixed, all were under arms. Abdel Kader
stood surrounded by his civil and military chiefs. The culprit was led
forth; the head was placed before the Sultan.
“Prisoner,” said Abdel Kader, “was the man to whom this head belonged
dead or alive, before you cut it off?”
“Dead.”
“Then you shall receive two hundred and fifty blows, for having
disobeyed my orders. This punishment shall teach you that, as a dead man
can be no man’s enemy, it is cowardly and brutal to mutilate him.”
The soldier was laid down, and received his award. He rose, and thinking
his punishment over, was moving off.
“Stay a little,” said the Sultan, “I have another question to ask you.
While you were cutting off the man’s head, where was your musket?”
“I had laid it on the ground.”
“Two hundred and fifty blows more, then, for having abandoned your arms
on the field.”
After this second punishment, the unhappy regular could hardly stand on
his feet. Some men stepped forth to carry him away.
“Not in such a hurry,” said the Sultan, again; “I have another question
yet to ask. After you had cut off the man’s head, how did you manage to
carry your musket and the head at the same time?”
“I held my musket in one hand, and the head in the other.”
“That is to say, you carried your musket in such a manner that you could
not have made use of it. Give him two hundred and fifty blows more.”
Such unbending severity had its due effect. The French had no longer
occasion to dread falling alive into the hands of the Arabs. When taken
they were regularly and carefully conducted to the station of the
nearest Khalifa. On arriving there, they were subjected to a strict but
mild examination, and were simply asked to what corps they had belonged,
when and how they had been taken, and whether they had been well treated
by their captors.
After their declarations had been duly taken down and registered, they
were forwarded to certain _depôts_ appointed for the reception of
prisoners. The men were generally sent to Taza, or Tekedemt. The women,
invariably to the Smala, to be cared for and superintended by the
Sultan’s mother.
Not satisfied with ameliorating the condition of his own prisoners of
war, Abdel Kader was extremely desirous of pushing the principle of
humanity still further, by establishing a regular exchange of prisoners
on both sides. Often and earnestly did he plead with the French
generals, that the precedent so auspiciously established and carried
into effect at Sidi Khalifa, might be extended and confirmed as a
system. But he pleaded in vain.
CHAPTER XVII.
1843.
At this period of his fortunes, Abdel Kader was almost as much engaged
in subduing his own subjects and keeping them to their allegiance, as in
fighting with the French. The latter, by promises, by bribes, by
threats, by measures of the utmost severity, tried to gain over the Arab
tribes as allies and auxiliaries. A razzia on the part of the French was
sure to be followed by a razzia on the part of the Sultan. Both parties
endeavoured to establish their power by terror. But, whilst the one was
actuated by the thirst for conquest, the other was influenced by the
desire of rescuing his country from its evils, and rendering it
eventually great and powerful.
The French had learned to appreciate the importance of the Smala. They
saw in it the real nucleus of Abdel Kader’s influence. They ascertained
that it was the depository of immense wealth. It now became the chief
object of their research. From generals of _corps d’armée_ to colonels
of detachments, all displayed an eager and zealous activity to snatch
the splendid prize.
In the spring of 1843, Lamoricière opened the campaign by occupying
Tekedemt. Abdel Kader, with 1,500 cavalry, watched his further movements
from the neighbouring woods of Serisso. He had learned by spies that the
general’s object was the Smala. For twenty days he remained in ambush.
All communication with him was strictly prohibited, lest his presence
should be discovered. He and his men lived on acorns. The horses were
fed with leaves. To add to the intenseness of his abnegation, this trial
came on them during the period of the fast of Ramadan.
One day the chiefs of Abdel Kader came to him radiant with joy. They had
found a stray sheep. The Sultan at least might have a repast. “Take it
to my starving soldiers,” said Abdel Kader, and he turned to his meal of
acorns. Unconsciously, he was following the example of David, when he
looked on the waters from the well of Bethlehem, and said, “Is not this
the blood of the men who went in jeopardy of their lives? and he would
not drink it;” of Alexander, when he refused the helmet of water—“If I
alone drink, my men will be dispirited;” of Sidney, who on the field of
Zutphen resigned the cooling draught to his wounded comrade, with the
touching remark, “This man’s necessity is greater than mine.”
Twice Lamoricière led forth his troops in search of the Smala, and twice
Abdel Kader drove him back. But treason was at work. Sheik Omar ibn
Ferrath, of the Beni Aiad, offered to point out the exact spot on which
the Smala was encamped. Immediately the plan was laid. From Abdel Kader
no obstruction was feared. He was occupied with Lamoricière. The column
stationed at Medea was selected for the enterprise. The execution was
entrusted to the Duc D’Aumale.
On the 10th of May, 1843, D’Aumale left Boghar with 1,300 infantry, 600
cavalry, and 2 field pieces. Sheik Omar had announced the Smala to be at
Gojilat. The French reached that place on the 14th. But the Smala was
gone. Its new locality was unknown. The column wandered about weary and
uncertain. A fierce simoon sweeping over it reduced the men to utter
exhaustion. They halted and piled arms. D’Aumale rode on for some miles
in front, merely accompanied by his cavalry.
At break of day on the 16th, the traitor Sheik rode up to say that the
Smala was at the spring of Taguin. D’Aumale at once gave orders to march
on the point indicated. The Sheik expostulated. To attack the Smala with
600 cavalry appeared to him to be madness. He entreated the Duke either
to return to his column or to wait till it came up. “No prince of my
race ever receded,” was the gallant reply; and the trumpets sounded the
advance.
The Smala was reached. The French cavalry, spreading out like a fan,
went dashing through that sea of tents, and quickly scattered a
bewildered and panic-striken population of old men, women, and children.
The small guard of 500 regulars fired a volley and fled. A handful of
the Hashems bravely attempted to stem the torrent, but were swept away.
In less than an hour the victory was complete.
The scenes of confusion and despair which were crowded into that brief
interval—the frantic efforts at escape, the terror of the flying, the
dismay of the abandoned—the careering and plunging of a promiscuous mass
of camels, dromedaries, horses, mules, oxen, sheep, tossing about like
the waves of a raging sea, have been immortalised by the genius of
Horace Vernet. The painter’s art alone could do adequate justice to that
unparalleled and almost inconceivable scene of tumult.
The bloodshed had been comparatively trifling. The trophies consisted
chiefly of the families of Abdel Kader’s most influential chiefs. His
own family had escaped. The booty was immense. It comprised thousands of
animals of all kinds, Abdel Kader’s library, consisting of the rarest
Arabian manuscripts, richly bound, and valued at £5,000; his military
chest, containing millions of francs; the chests of his Khalifas and
Kaids, all deposited in the Smala for security, and filled with gold and
silver coins, and costly jewellery.
The French soldiers baled out dollars and doubloons in their shakos;
they filled their haversacks with pearls and diamonds. In the general
disorder, the voice of command was unheeded; and each seized the prize,
which a more or less happy chance threw into his hands.
Abdel Kader received the news of the taking of the Smala, in the woods
of Serisso. The blow for a moment overwhelmed him. He measured at once
the extent of his misfortune, and saw in that severe decree of fate the
presage of a dark and calamitous future. Dismissing the messengers who
brought him the intelligence, he retired from some hours to his tent,
engaged in meditation and prayer.
His chiefs, his officers and men, had, in the meantime, assembled in
groups outside. Some were silent and downcast, others gave way to the
wildest imprecations. Many had lost their all; their wives and their
children had been taken captive—they might be separated for years,
perhaps for ever; disordered imaginations filled up this dark shadow of
the unknown with exaggerated horrors; the distracted sufferers saw no
prospect of relief. One only feeling gave them a shadow of
consolation—their Sultan was still amongst them.
Abdel Kader came forth. They crowded to his presence. They watched his
looks. Some essayed to address him, but the words faltered on their
lips; none ventured to fathom the secret workings of that profound
prostration. But the cloud had passed over; a smile played on his
countenance. “Praise be to God,” he said; “all those objects which I so
highly prized, which were so dear to my heart, and occupied my mind so
much, only impeded my movements, and turned me aside from the right way.
For the future, I shall be free to fight the infidels.”
Then, speaking of those who had fallen, he added, “Why should we mourn
and complain? Are not all those whom we loved and have lost, now blessed
in Paradise?” The next day he wrote to his Khalifas:—“The French have
made a razzia on my Smala; but let us not be discouraged, we shall
henceforth be lighter and better disposed for war.”
Thus, rising superior to events, Abdel Kader stilled the troubled waters
which rose around him; from the deepest of his misfortunes he gathered
hope and encouragement for the future.
When alluding afterwards to this disastrous period, Abdel Kader thus
expressed himself:—“When my Smala was attacked by the Duc D’Aumale, its
population could not have comprised less than 60,000 souls. He did not
carry off a tenth part; it extended from Taguin as far as Djebel Amour.
When an Arab lost sight of his family in it, he was sometimes two days
in finding it. Wherever it was encamped, the wells and rivulets were
dried up. I had established a police force expressly to prevent the
waters from being muddled or wasted by the flocks. In spite of all my
precautions, many perished from thirst.
“My Smala contained armourers, saddlers, tailors—every trade, in fact,
necessary to its organisation. An immense fair was held in it, which was
much frequented by the Arabs of the Tell. As to our grain, corn, and
barley, it was either brought to us, or we sent to procure it from the
tribes of the north.
“The order of the encampment was perfectly regulated. When I had pitched
my tent, every one knew the place he was to occupy. I had around me
three or four hundred of my regular infantry, and the irregular cavalry
of the Hashems of Eghrees, who were especially devoted to me. It was no
easy task to reach me. Not that I took these measures for my own
personal security; I felt I was necessary to accomplish the work of God,
and trusted in Him to strengthen and protect the arm that carried his
standard.
“At the time of the surprise, I was near Tekedemt, observing the
division of Oran, which was in the neighbourhood, and from which I
thought I had most to dread. I had with me 1,500 or 1,600 cavalry. Ben
Kharoub was with the Flittas, Ben Allal in the Ouarensis, Mustapha-ibn-
Taamy amongst the Beni Ouragh. But I never thought there was occasion
for me to fear so terrible a mischance in the direction of Medea; and
none of my Khalifas were watching the movements of the king’s son.
“Despite all that, however, we should not have been surprised if God had
not blinded our people. On seeing the Spahis coming on, with their red
burnouses, it was thought in the Smala that they were my irregulars
returning. The women even raised the usual cries of welcome and
rejoicing to their honour. Nor were they undeceived until the first
shots were fired. Then ensued a scene of inexpressible confusion, which
baffled all the efforts of those who sought to defend themselves.
“If I had been there, we should have fought for our wives and children,
and the French would have seen a grand day. But God decreed it
otherwise. I only heard of the misfortune three days afterwards; it was
too late.”
The smallness of their force prevented the French from taking more than
3,000 prisoners; but amongst them were the families of several of the
Sultan’s Khalifas. The rest of the Smala dispersed in all directions.
Some fell among Arab tribes, who plundered them. Others were overtaken
by Lamoricière.
Foremost in the pursuit was Mutapha-ibn-Ismail, who throughout the war
had made himself conspicuous by the malicious zeal with which he had
ever aided and directed the movements of the French against the
distinguished chief whom a base jealousy urged him to thwart and oppose.
But the traitor now met a merited doom. Crossing the district of the
Flittas, he was attacked, shot down, and decapitated. His head was taken
to the Sultan’s head-quarters. Abdel Kader gazed upon it for some
moments with pardonable satisfaction, and then contemptuously ordered it
to be thrown to the dogs.
To recover his influence and restore the general confidence by the re-
establishment of his Smala, was now to Abdel Kader a matter of vital
importance. But all his efforts were vain. The moral effects of its
defeat and capture were irremediable. Every day brought Abdel Kader
information of the defection of large and influential tribes. Arab
contingents now swelled the ranks of his enemies, and marched openly
against him.
Yet deeper misfortunes followed. At the very moment when his ablest
Khalifas were most needed, a remorseless fate removed them. Their career
was cut short by captivity, or terminated by a glorious death. Deprived
of these connecting links, his empire lost cohesion. His distant
provinces fell an easy prey to the French, who everywhere displayed
their triumphant standards. But the lion heart and iron will still bore
up, and defied fortune to do its worst.
The province of Oran became the scene of an almost superhuman struggle.
Followed by a chosen and devoted band of some 5,000 followers, Abdel
Kader made his presence felt at all points; now he fell on recreant
tribes; now he made head against the French columns. Ever in the van,
leading on the charge, plunging into the thickest of the fight, by his
heroic example he encouraged, animated, and inspired his small band. His
bravest followers fell around him; his horses were killed under him; his
burnous was riddled with bullets; but still he fought on, desperately
braving and sustaining the battle’s brunt.
Once he was taken unawares. On the 23rd September, 1843, he was encamped
near the Marabouts (or sacred edifices) of Sidi Yoosuf, with a battalion
of infantry and 500 irregular horse. A spy betrayed his position to
Lamoricière. A distance of six leagues was between them. The general at
once led out in person the 2nd Chasseurs d’Afriques. All were elate and
confident. The space was rapidly traversed by a night’s march. In the
grey of dawn the spot was reached.
Abdel Kader was aroused from sleep by cries of “The French! the French!”
He had barely time to mount. He might have escaped, but death in his
eyes was preferable to the double stain of surprise and flight. His
infantry sprung to their arms, and by his orders advanced and fired a
volley. His cavalry rallied at his voice. Then, as the smoke slowly
rolled away, he dashed into the French chasseurs, overwhelmed and
dispersed them by the suddenness of the shock, and after a few minutes’
hard fighting drew off his whole force in perfect order.
The Beni Amers had gone over to the French—those same Beni Amers whose
4,000 sabres had waved in exultation around the young hero of the
Djehad; whose brilliant courage had opened before him the path of glory
and of empire. Abdel Kader determined to attack them. Descending
suddenly upon them with all his available levies, he swept through their
encampments, slew numbers, and carried off a large booty. A French
battalion stationed amongst them struggled vainly to arrest his
progress. But an Arab chief, one of his old followers, boldly singled
him out, rode up to him, and fired at him point blank. The ball missed.
Abdel Kader turned round and shot the traitor dead with his pistol.
Notwithstanding the temporary success of these desperate efforts, Abdel
Kader well knew that unless some more stable and permanent form were
given to his energy and perseverance, all attempts to regain his former
ascendancy, and repair the crumbling edifice of his fortunes, would be
vain and illusory. Algeria, he now clearly saw, was closed to him, as a
battle-field likely to be productive of any solid advantages to his
position, notwithstanding his endless raids and triumphant razzias.
Without external aid, he felt the game was lost.
The magnificent Smala was now reduced to his own Deira, barely amounting
to 1,000 souls, wandering about in miserable uncertainty. By fixing it
in a place of security, he would be ready for fresh efforts. While
escorting it to a more favourable spot, Lamoricière again crossed his
path. A desperate engagement ensued. The women animated the combatants
with their voices. Abdel Kader and his followers, fighting in the
presence of their wives and children, performed prodigies of valour.
Again the Sultan’s formidable antagonist was foiled. The Deira was
safely established at Bouka Cheha, on the territory of Morocco.
The political relations between England and France were at this time
threatening. Abdel Kader thought the moment propitious. He sent an
embassy to the Queen of England. In a letter addressed to her Majesty,
he opened to her the prospect of possessions in Algeria. All the sea-
coast towns should be ceded to her in full and undivided sovereignty. On
the other hand, the Arabs required at her hands the acknowledgment of
their national independence. A glorious alliance between the English and
the Arabs would present an impassible barrier, he urged, to French
aggrandisement in Africa. The letter was placed in the hands of the
Prime Minister. An interview with the Queen was sought by his agent, and
refused. An answer was promised, but it was never sent.
The embassy was at the same time entrusted with a letter from Abdel
Kader to the Turkish Sultan, to be transmitted through the British
Foreign Office. In return for succour promptly sent, the Sultan of the
Arabs offered to acknowledge the descendant of Othman as his suzerain.
The letter was forwarded to its destination, but no results ensued.
Whatever were his expectations from the quarters he thus addressed,
Abdel Kader’s main reliance was in the support and co-operation of the
Sultan of Morocco. For years, Sultan Abderahman had shown him every mark
of unbounded cordiality and esteem, had loaded him with presents, and
offered him the sweet incense of flattery and adulation. But there his
friendship stopped. Throughout the whole career of Abdel Kader, he had
never offered to supply him gratuitously with material aid of any kind;
and Abdel Kader had never condescended to demand it.
Now, however, stern necessity and a solemn sense of religious duty
compelled him to make the appeal. In the most urgent and pressing terms,
he adjured the Moorish Sultan to come forward with the whole strength
and resources of his empire in behalf of the common cause. He pointed
out the common danger. If all Algeria were to be subdued, where, he
asked, could be the security for Morocco? Pretexts would not be wanting
for invading the latter, as pretexts had been found for invading the
former. The Arab tribes, momentarily dispirited, would revive at the
sight of the Moorish armies, and, with re-enkindled enthusiasm, range
themselves round the Moorish standards.
Not content with challenging the political and religious sympathies of
the Sultan of Morocco, Abdel Kader resolved to win his patron’s
adhesion, if not to extort his alliance, by an act of personal devotion.
Several of the frontier Morocco tribes had long been in open revolt
against their sovereign. He marched against them, subdued them, and sent
the leaders of the rebellion in chains to Ouchda, forwarding at the same
time a letter from himself to Sultan Abderahman, stating his services.
The reply of the Moorish monarch was complimentary, but reserved. It
held out to him no encouragement. Abdel Kader, finding the fruitlessness
of his advances in that quarter, now summoned around him a few faithful
adherents, and, relying on his own efforts to retrieve his fortunes,
disappeared for some months in the Sahara.
The French, relieved of Abdel Kader’s presence, imagined that their work
was done. His withdrawal from the scene of action was to them the
grateful symbol of his abdication and defeat. Marshal Bugeaud thus
congratulated his Government on the glorious result:—“After the campaign
of the spring (1843), I might have proclaimed Algeria to be conquered
and subdued. I preferred stating less than the truth. But now, after the
battle of the 11th of this month, in which the remains of the Emir’s
infantry were destroyed, and in which his first and most distinguished
Khalifa was killed, I will boldly declare that all serious warfare is
finished. Abdel Kader may, indeed, with the handful of cavalry he still
has about him, make some isolated _coup de main_ on the frontier, but he
can never again attempt anything important.”
CHAPTER XVIII.
1844-1845.
The erection of an Arab kingdom in Algeria had been viewed by the Sultan
of Morocco, not only with feelings of religious sympathy and approval,
but with a cordial appreciation of its commercial advantages. The
government of the young Sultan of the Arabs, based on a strict and
undeviating adherence to the principles of the Koran, had largely
increased both the trade and the revenues of his empire.
Formerly the rich caravans which plied between Fez and the southern
parts of Africa, passed through Algeria as through an enemy’s country.
Large guards were necessary to save them from spoliation. They were
frequently attacked and plundered, with serious loss of life. They had
to run the gauntlet both of Arabs and Turks. If they escaped from the
open hostility of the one, they were devoured by the grasping avarice
and unblushing extortion of the other. Now they traversed the whole
extent of Algeria in perfect safety. In the interior they paid no tolls;
at the frontiers they paid no duties. In Abdel Kader’s eyes a custom-
house was an anomaly and an abomination. The legal _zekka_ and _ashur_,
and, in case of urgent necessity, the _marouna_, an extraordinary war-
contribution, were all that his conscience allowed him to demand from
his subjects. Industry fructified in its natural channels; the
reciprocity of exchange was unfettered.
When to all these considerations were added the personal esteem and
regard, the admiration little short of idolatry with which the Moorish
Sultan reverenced the once triumphant leader of the Djehad, it was fully
expected throughout the Moorish population, who secretly longed to be
led on, in alliance with the Arabs, against the infidels, that a loud
and strenuous appeal to arms would sooner or later have signalised the
adhesion of Morocco to the common cause, and imparted fresh strength and
vigour to Abdel Kader’s noble, though waning, efforts of constancy and
heroism.
But, however sensitive Sultan Abderahman might have been to the
instincts of his faith, he was not the less tenacious of the stability
of his own throne. The invading element had swept triumphantly over the
barriers raised alike by Turkish and Arab desperation. The power which
had planted its victorious standards in Algiers and Mascara, might well
carry them to Fez. A demonstration in favour of Abdel Kader on the part
of Sultan Abderahman, would probably involve them both in a common ruin.
Balancing between his personal predilections and his political fears,
the Moorish Sultan hoped to save his conscience and his crown, by doing
nothing.
Unfortunately for the astuteness of these calculations on the part of
the Moorish Sultan, the position of Abdel Kader was of such a nature as
to render a hostile collision between France and Morocco inevitable. The
sympathies of the Moorish population were gradually burning more and
more strongly towards the indomitable hero who had honoured their soil
by making it the sanctuary of his accumulated glories, his sanctified
misfortunes, and his unflagging hopes. It required but a spark to raise
a widely-spreading and inextinguishable conflagration.
Abdel Kader had for some time made the Morocco frontier the basis of his
forays into Algeria. He could retire within the Morocco territory
without molestation. The French, in order not to be thus baffled, had at
last advanced a strong division to that part of the frontier from whence
he made his sallies. But the frontier lines were ill defined. There was
a portion of the territory which might be considered as debateable
ground, and this debateable ground was boldly occupied by the French.
The name of the place on which Lamoricière and Bedeau fixed on for their
encampment was Leila Maghnia, so called after the name of a celebrated
and highly venerated female saint, whose remains lay deposited in a
stately tomb, erected on the spot. Here the French dug entrenchments,
hung up their accoutrements, smoked their pipes, and sung songs.
The profanation was too glaring to be overlooked, too monstrous to be
endured. A shout of indignation rolled through the Moorish empire. It
roused the vacillating monarch from his ignominious repose, and
compelled him either to see himself engulphed amidst the tempestuous
waves of an irrepressible fanaticism, or at once to send an army to the
scene of outrage, for the purpose of asserting the national dignity, and
avenging the foul insult offered to the national faith.
On the 22nd May, 1844, El Ghenaoui, commander of the Moorish garrison at
Ouchda, summoned the French to evacuate Leila Maghnia. The summons was
treated with contempt. On the 30th, some Moorish troops approached the
French position, and encouraged by their leader, a fanatic Shereef,
allied by birth to the Sultan’s family, gave way to their impetuous
zeal. With menacing shouts and gestures they reached the French lines.
They fired into the French entrenchments. Lamoricière and Bedeau
displayed the French standards and marched against them. Quickly
defeated and dispersed, the enemy fell back upon Ouchda.
On the 11th of June, Marshal Bugeaud arrived at the camp. He proposed an
interview between himself and El Ghenaoui, and the arrangement was
accepted. The interview was fixed for June 11th. Distrust prevailed on
either side. Each party came towards the ground with a large body of
troops. In presence of both armies, the chiefs advanced towards each
other, accompanied by a small escort.
Scarcely had the conference begun when the Moorish cavalry were observed
to be breaking ground and closing in upon the scene of parley. With
cries of insult and defiance they brandished their sabres and discharged
their pistols. Bedeau withdrew with dignity, disdaining to attempt
reprisals. The main body of the enemy, mistaking this moderation for
weakness, rushed on tumultuously. The French drew up in order of battle,
waited a short time for reinforcements, and then, headed by Bugeaud,
retorted the challenge. A general engagement ensued. Again the Moors
were routed and put to flight.
Bugeaud, astounded at these acts of treachery, determined to take and
occupy Ouchda itself. He wrote to El Ghenaoui demanding an explanation.
The latter only replied in a spirit of prevarication and evasion. The
French general then sent his ultimatum. In this despatch Abdel Kader was
declared to be the sole obstacle to a renewal of peace and friendship
between France and Morocco. The genius of one man thus held the
reciprocal positions of two empires in suspense. “We wish,” wrote
General Bugeaud, “to have the same frontier limits which the Turks, and
Abdel Kader after them, possessed. We want nothing which belongs to you.
But we must insist on your no longer receiving Abdel Kader, granting him
aid and support, reviving him when he is nearly dead, and launching him
forth afresh upon us. This is not good friendship; it is war; and such
war you have been making on us in this manner for two years.
“We desire that you confine to the west of the empire both Abdel Kader’s
Deira and his principal chiefs, and that you disperse his regular
troops, both infantry and cavalry. We require also that you no longer
countenance the emigration of our tribes to your territory, and that you
immediately send back those who are already located there.
“We will bind ourselves reciprocally towards you, in the same sense,
should the occasion present itself. This is what may justly be called
the practical observance of the principle of good friendship between two
nations. On these conditions, we will be your friends, we will encourage
your commerce, and favour the government of Muley Abderahman as much as
lies in our power. If you act otherwise we shall be your enemies. Answer
at once and without evasions, for I do not understand them.”
This despatch led to no results. The Moorish army retired into the
interior; and Bugeaud occupied Ouchda, although but temporarily. The
dispute, thus commenced on the frontier, soon spread into the higher
regions of diplomacy. The French Government, in the month of June, 1844,
sent a squadron under Prince de Joinville to the coast of Morocco to
support its official reclamations. Marshal Bugeaud received instructions
to commence offensive operations by land. The bombardment of Tangiers
and Mogador, and the battle of Isly, compelled the Moorish Sultan to
carry out the views of the conquering power. France claimed no
territory, no indemnity, not even the expenses of the war. It merely
begged Sultan Abderahman, _to deliver it from Abdel Kader_. By the 4th
article of the treaty of peace which was drawn up, and signed by both
parties, it was stipulated, that “Hadj Abdel Kader is placed beyond the
pale of the law throughout the entire extent of the empire of Morocco,
as well as in Algeria. He will, consequently, be pursued by main force,
by the French on the territory of Algeria, and by the Moroccans on their
own territory, till he is expelled therefrom, or falls into the power of
one or other nation. In the event of Abdel Kader falling into the hands
of the French troops, the Government of his Majesty the King of the
French engages itself to treat him with respect and generosity. In the
event of his falling into the hands of the Moorish troops, his Majesty
the Emperor of Morocco engages himself to restrict his abode, for the
future, to one of the towns on the western coast of his empire, until
the two Governments shall have concerted such measures as will prevent
the possibility of his resuming arms, and troubling the tranquillity of
Algeria and Morocco.”
Abdel Kader, on the breaking out of hostilities between France and
Morocco, had returned to the Deira, there to watch the course of events.
Sultan Abderahman went through the formality of summoning him to Fez.
But another summons reached Abdel Kader from the Moorish capital, of a
far different nature. The defeat of their armies, the humiliating
dictation of the French, the bitter reversal of all their ardent hopes,
had filled the Moorish population with fury and resentment. All ranks
inveighed against the incapacity, and the craven weakness of their
sovereign. All demanded Abdel Kader.
Letters from the first grandees of the state, from military and civil
functionaries, from the commercial classes, informed Abdel Kader of the
general wish, implored him to rescue the empire from impending
degradation and ruin, and invited him to ascend the throne of his
ancestors.
Had Abdel Kader been a vulgar usurper, he had now only to put out his
hand to seize the sceptre of Morocco. But patriotism, not ambition, was
his ruling motive. He had taken the field for the freedom and
independence of Algeria. His thoughts, his vows, his prayers, all his
concentrated energies of body and mind, were devoted to his native land.
No offer of greatness could seduce him beyond that legitimate sphere of
action. He disdained to wear a borrowed crown.
“I refused the tempting offer so unanimously made to me,” he afterwards
said, “not only because my religion forbade me to injure a sovereign
chosen and appointed by God, but because, knowing Morocco as I did, with
its discordant races, I felt it would have cost me at least twelve or
fifteen years, not, indeed, to govern like Muley Abderahman, but to
enable me in any way to enforce submission to the law, and to make my
government respected.”
During the spring of 1844, in the hopes of embarrassing the
concentration of the French army on the frontiers of Morocco, Abdel
Kader had made a rapid incursion into the regions of the Tell,
penetrating even as far as Tiaret. Everywhere he appealed to the tribes,
convoked their chiefs, and called for contingents. But the presence of
French detachments in all directions had overawed and stupefied the
national spirit. His summons met with a feeble response. He returned to
his Deira in the deepest despondency.
In long and anxious reveries, he now examined his position; he weighed
his prospects; he questioned his conscience. Had he done all, he asked
himself, that love of country and devotion to his faith demanded? Was it
too soon to abandon all hope? Was despair criminal? He looked around on
his Deira, composed of his family and a few hundreds of devoted
followers, dependent on chance supplies for the bare means of existence,
and acknowledged that the closing scene had come.
Again his mental horizon cleared up. A grand idea presented itself to
his imagination. He would rally all the tribes of Algeria, unable to
endure the yoke of the infidels, and lead them forth in a body towards
Mecca. In this expedition he would live on terms of friendship with all
who, on their route, welcomed them as friends; and pass over the bodies
of those who opposed them as enemies.
What Arab, he argued to himself, could resist such a mighty impulse, or
fail to be electrified by such a magnificent proposal? What a glorious
spectacle would be presented by a whole people voluntarily abandoning a
land which their forefathers, twelve centuries before, had won by their
swords, rather than share it with the mortal enemies of their faith; and
bearing back the standards of the Prophet in solemn pomp and grandeur,
unsullied and uncontaminated, to the scenes and regions of their
pristine glories!
But while pondering over this gigantic scheme, fresh circumstances again
aroused him to renewed exertions. Old memories rose up before him. The
touching appeals of his devoted Khalifas still occasionally reached him;
renewed assurances of adhesion came in from time to time. His heart
vibrated and responded to the innate conviction that his name still
possessed its talismanic influence, and that his presence might yet re-
animate and inspire the breasts of thousands, now sunk in apathy and
despair. All combined in urging him to undertake the hazards of another
campaign, in spite of the fearful odds opposed to him.
From the gorges of the Djurjura, the loyal and chivalrous Ben Salem had
thus addressed his long-absent sovereign:—“How is it that you no longer
write to us? The sight of your seal, as you well know, revives all our
hopes. I assure you, your very existence is called in question; and it
is generally given out that your mother writes in your name. The French
are preparing to march upon me, and I cannot answer for the Kabyles; I
am almost inclined to believe, they are secretly of the religion of the
conqueror. If you delay coming amongst us, the misfortunes of Berkani
will be nothing compared to those with which I shall be overwhelmed.
Answer me in your own handwriting, I conjure you.”
Abdel Kader replied,—“I have received your letter, informing me, that
the news of my death is spread abroad in the east. No one can escape
death; such is the decree of the Most High. However, God be praised, my
hour is not yet come. I am yet full of force and vigour, and I still
hope to attack with energy the enemies of our religion. It is by such
proofs that men are known. Be always the same, calm, patient, unshaken,
and God will recompense you. I will come to you as soon as my affairs in
the west are settled.”
His absence being still prolonged, and disasters rapidly succeeding each
other in every quarter, his three Khalifas in the east held a
consultation as to the best measures to be adopted in such a desperate
state of affairs. Their master was not there to cheer and animate their
drooping spirits; and as they separated, Ben Allal, embracing his
colleagues, exclaimed, “May God re-unite us in another world, for I have
small hope that we shall meet again in this.” “Despair not,” said Ben
Salem, newly consoled and supported by a letter he had just received
from Abdel Kader, “I trust we shall yet all three of us meet in
Algeria.” “Perhaps so,” added Ben Allal, dejectedly, “if we submit to
the Christians, which God forbid.”
Soon after, all communication having been cut off by the French troops,
the Khalifas to the east were again without any news from Abdel Kader.
Ben Salem dispatched several chiefs of tribes to gather intelligence of
his movements. By an unexpected piece of good fortune, they found out
Abdel Kader himself. He received them with affectionate sympathy. Calm
and cheerful in the midst of his reverses, he listened eagerly to their
accounts of the embarrassments of his faithful lieutenants, and their
still untiring zeal. He consoled them with words of comfort and
assurance; and, on their taking leave, he gave them a horse richly
caparisoned, as a present to Ben Salem, with the following letter:—
“Be patient in adversity; it is that which is the touchstone of great
minds. Encourage your officials; aid and assist them; bear with their
faults of judgment; measure the extent of their capacities with charity
and consideration. This state of affairs cannot last long. I hope to be
with you speedily, and then we will come to an understanding as to the
proper course to be adopted. In the meantime, I beg you to accept the
horse which I send you: it was a present to me from Mouley Abderahman.
It may perhaps be propitious to you.”
The Arab tribes had, in some degree, viewed with satisfaction the state
of comparative repose which had succeeded to those years of constant
conflicts, in which, whoever conquered, they were sure to be the
sufferers. But the gradual establishment of French regulations amongst
them, and especially the haughtiness and severity with which they were
enforced, as well as the constant presence of French officials, too
often distinguished by that superciliousness and contemptuous display of
superiority which intimate intercourse with the eastern races generally
engenders in the breasts of Europeans, failed not again to awaken their
slumbering feelings of hatred and fanaticism.
To minds thus prepared for renewed action, the emissaries of certain
secret religious societies which existed amongst the tribes, found ready
access. The arm of the Lord, they were assured, was about to be visibly
revealed. The _Mouley Saa_, or “Master of the hour,” so long expected by
all true and fervent believers, had appeared, as they were told, and was
already in the field. “Woe be to those who hung back in doubt or fear,”
was the rallying cry of these fanatics.
The sect of the “Derkaouas,” famous above all others for their furious
and infatuated zeal, had found a tool, and boldly put him forward. In
March, 1845, Mohammed-ibn-Abdallah, surnamed Bou Maza, raised the sacred
standard in the Dahra and the valley of the Cheliff. This newly-
installed prophet preached from place to place, exclaiming, “I am the
destined one who is to appear at the hour predicted in the prophecies,
the hour of deliverance.” He pledged himself to rid Algeria of the
French within the year.
This impostor had his goat (which suggested his nickname, Bou Maza, or
“father of the goat”), as Sertorius had his bitch, through which he
pretended to receive celestial communications. He promised to all who
believed in his mission, not only the plunder of the Christians, but
also of all recreant Mussulmans. By these means he collected around him
several hundred followers, and surprised and attacked some French posts.
His successes aroused competitors. Whenever the French advanced, they
were met by Bou Maza. The fermentation was temporarily, but only
temporarily, appeased by the French. A greater personage than Bou Maza
was about to re-appear on the scene.
Abdel Kader, though not a participator in the agitation which had been
lately set on foot to excite the tribes, saw the ground prepared for
him. He resolved to reap the harvest which had been sown. He descended
into the valley of the Tafna, and routed and cut to pieces a French
detachment at Sidi Ibrahim. In this action the lower part of his right
ear was carried away by a musket ball. This wound was the only serious
one that he ever received.
Another detachment laid down its arms to him without firing a shot, at
Ain Temouchen. The collective prisoners amounted to six hundred. They
were brought before him. He consoled them in their misfortune. “Never
despair of the future,” he said; “no harm shall come to you. God has
decreed that you should fall into my power; He may yet decree your
liberation.”
The news of these successes spread rapidly abroad. Rumour magnified
their importance. All hearts beat high with expectation. Soon letters
from Abdel Kader were read and handed about with transport. In these
letters the Arabs were told to be of good cheer, since their Sultan
would soon be amongst them, and implored not to permit any partial and
ill-judged rising to defeat the common aim. The Khalifas of Abdel Kader
had received their instructions. “Let all patiently await the signal,”
it was written, “and then rush with fury on the foe before them.”
The French felt the coming storm; they recognised the genius of Abdel
Kader; the danger was imminent. Lamoricière, Cavaignac, Bedeau, pressed
the government for reinforcements. They urged the immediate return of
Bugeaud. The Marshal left France accordingly, and reached Algeria
October 15, 1845. He brought new legions. Within a week he took the
field at the head of 120,000 men. He determined, by a timely display of
unrelenting rigour, to forestall the menaced blow.
Fourteen divisions, each complete in infantry, cavalry, and artillery,
scoured the devoted land in every direction, some acting in concert,
others independently, but all crushing out resistance, wherever it
appeared, with fire and sword. Men were pitilessly slain, habitations
ruthlessly burnt, crops given over to conflagration, fugitives smothered
alive in caves. St. Arnaud led on “The Infernal Column.” Algeria once
more felt all the strength of European civilisation, but now untempered
by that mercy which ought to be its attribute.
CHAPTER XIX.
1845-1847.
Flushed with his recent triumph, and anxious to realise the hopes it had
awakened in every quarter to which the news of it had reached, Abdel
Kader, in the month of October 1845, carried his standards to the plains
of Mascara. Here he was again hailed with as much enthusiasm as at the
outset of his career. All the tribes which had submitted to the French
rallied round him. The garrison of Mascara came out against him, but was
driven back with loss. The French entrenched camps of Saida and Taza
were strictly blockaded.
But other portions of the country required his presence. It was his
policy not so much to adopt a system of combined attack against the
French, which, from his want of regular infantry and artillery, was next
to impossible, as to foment the spirit of insurrection in all parts of
the Regency, to keep the French perpetually on the alert by his meteor-
like appearance in districts apparently subdued, to revive hostilities
ostensibly extinguished, and then, by the rapidity of his movements, to
baffle all the measures directed against him.
He now advanced to Tekedemt with 6,000 cavalry, and prepared to descend
into the valley of the Cheliff. The Beni Shaib, a large and important
tribe, one hundred and fifty miles away to the south, were reported to
him as about to go over to the French. The contemplated movement into
the valley of the Cheliff was instantly suspended. The wavering tribe
suddenly found itself attacked by Abdel Kader at the head of 5,000
cavalry. Their chiefs were seized, their flocks carried off, their
coffers emptied.
The movements of the French had, in the meantime, compelled him to alter
his plans. No sooner was it known that Abdel Kader was in the Tell, than
all their efforts were concentrated in that direction. The columns of
Lamoricière, Bedeau, Yoosuf, and Marcey, were all set in motion. Orders
were given, that whichever column found itself in presence of Abdel
Kader, was to fire a signal gun, on which the other columns were
immediately to converge and lend their aid.
Lamoricière was the first to come up with him, near Tiaret, December 1,
1845. He was protecting the emigration of several tribes, who, under his
direction, were withdrawing into the desert. The signal gun was fired.
Bedeau, Yoosuf, and Bugeaud, rapidly emerged on the scene. But Abdel
Kader, always admirably served by spies, frustrated this combination,
and within forty-eight hours had removed the seat of his operations to
the Ouarensis.
Bugeaud, Lamoricière, Yoosuf, and St. Arnaud, followed in breathless
haste, and were again on the Sultan’s traces; but their ubiquitous foe
everywhere gave them the slip, and for weeks led them a fruitless dance
through the valleys of the Cheliff.
On one occasion he nearly succeeded in annihilating the third-named
general. On encountering Yoosuf in person on 23rd December, near Temela,
he pretended to fly. Yoosuf, falling into the snare, followed him up
with 2,000 cavalry. After thus drawing the French on for some time,
Abdel Kader suddenly faced about and charged them with 500 irregulars.
The rain fell in torrents. The firearms of the French would not go off.
Their horses were dead beat. They got lost in the intricacies of the
ground, and were on the point of surrendering, when the unexpected
advance of a column of infantry averted their fate.
That very night Abdel Kader slipped between the columns of Bugeaud and
Lamoricière, made a sweeping razzia on the Beni Esdama, between Tekedemt
and Mascara, carried off all their cattle, with abundance of corn and
barley, and retired unmolested into the Sahara. Several tribes here
brought him the usual tribute.
He now conceived the daring project of visiting the Djurjura, rallying
the Kabyles, and making a dash into the Metija. Ben Salem, duly
informed, prepared to second this movement.
Abdel Kader left the Sahara in February, 1846, followed by part of the
Beni Hassan, passed, unobserved, through the Wady Isser to the east of
Medea, and, making a razzia by the way on the Beni Hadoura, who served
the French, reached the Djurjura, where the Kabyles stood ready to await
his bidding. With a force of 5,000 warriors, accumulated as if by magic,
he now swept down into the plains, ravaged and destroyed the French
colonies, and advanced to within four hours of Algiers itself. The
French generals were all the while searching about for him in the high
ground of the Tell.
On the 7th February, he was encamped at the foot of the Djurjura. While
engaged in midnight prayer, he heard the French order to charge. In
another moment, the French were upon him. He sprang on his horse and
called on his men to rally. The Chasseurs closed around him. He fought
with them single-handed. Two horses were shot under him. He fought on
foot. He became undistinguishable in the confusion of the skirmish, and
aided by the darkness of the night effected his escape.
On the 28th Abdel Kader held a grand council of war at Burj bou Keni.
Deputies from all the Kabyle tribes were present. The question of war
was warmly mooted. For a time the majority were in favour of a
continuation of hostilities. At this moment news was brought in that
Bugeaud was advancing against them with superior forces. The moderate
party immediately gained the ascendancy. Attack and defence were
declared to be alike hazardous. Prudence was preferable to a fruitless
enthusiasm. In that would be the best guarantee for the preservation of
their liberties.
Abdel Kader left the Djurjura. In a few hours he was in the vicinity of
Bayhan. There, on the 7th of March, he surprised, routed, and plundered
the French Douairs, with his body guard of 2,000 cavalry. The booty was
immense. All the mules and camels of the tribes scarcely sufficed to
remove it. The long train and its escort entered the passes of the
Djebel Amour, seeking by rapid stages the districts of the Beni Nail, in
the Sahara.
On the 13th, while bringing up the rear guard with seventy men, Abdel
Kader was again attacked by General Yoosuf, who, finding out the
direction he had taken, had followed him up by forced marches. An open
space of ground gave the French unusual advantages. Abdel Kader was
conspicuous on a white charger. Alternately firing and charging, he kept
the enemy at bay. His men fought with desperation. Forty were killed. At
length, after two hours’ hard fighting, and after performing prodigies
of valour, Abdel Kader was lost to view in a defile.
The French were amazed at his gallantry. When, at a later period, he was
in Paris, the object of universal curiosity and admiration, the French
general who commanded on this memorable day recalled to Abdel Kader the
impression made on all who witnessed his chivalrous demeanour at a
moment when to all appearances he was irrecoverably lost, “If one of our
officers had displayed such extraordinary heroism,” said General Yoosuf,
“the Emperor would have sent him the decoration of the Legion of
Honour.”
Abdel Kader had hoped to recruit his forces amongst the tribes of the
Sahara. But the French had forestalled him. Everywhere their columns and
detachments made themselves felt. The Beni Nail, the Beni Shaib, the
Beni Hassan, from whose resources he had long been accustomed to supply
his wants, and with whom he had often found shelter in the hour of need,
all submitted successively to the persevering foe. Wherever Abdel Kader
presented himself he found lassitude and despondency. Indeed his
presence began to be looked upon as an omen of misfortune, and a prelude
to ruin.
He visited the Oulad-Sidi-Chirk, a large and powerful tribe at the
southern extremity of the Sahara. Their chiefs and marabouts thronged
about him. They condoled with him. They assured him of their warmest
sympathies. They offered him a temporary hospitality. But they adjured
him not to entail upon them the horrors of war, and so to expose the
venerated tombs of their saints to the profanation of the infidel. Abdel
Kader received the intimation with composure and resignation.
Accompanied by his faithful escort, he now returned to his Deira, on the
Melouia, in Morocco.
He arrived there July 18th, 1846. A terrible episode had just occurred.
The French prisoners taken in the affairs of Sidi Ibrahim and Ain
Temouchen, in September, 1845, had been sent to the Deira. They had been
presented to the Sultan’s mother, had met with a most assuring
reception, and had been well treated. Nothing was withheld that could
mitigate the painfulness of their situation. Abdel Kader had more than
once written to Bugeaud, offering an exchange of prisoners, but his
offer had been treated with contempt. Such was the position of the
prisoners when he had left the Deira, on his late expedition.
The Deira, to which was always attached a small body of regulars, was
under the charge of Ben Hamedi. On the 10th of April, 1846, Mustapha-
ibn-Thamy, the Sultan’s brother-in-law, arrived from the Sahara and took
the command. He had left Abdel Kader three days after his brilliant
action with General Yoosuf, in the Djebel Amour, and brought with him
several wounded and invalids. He found the Deira greatly reduced in
numbers, by desertion, by suffering, by privation. Provisions had become
scarce. The Moorish tribes in the vicinity would only furnish supplies
for ready money; and of money there was little or none. Two hundred and
eighty prisoners had become an embarrassment.
In this crisis a report reached Mustapha-ibn-Thamy that the Moorish
troops, who were not far distant, were about to advance and rescue the
prisoners. He had no force sufficient to resist such an enterprise if it
was attempted. The idea of such a stain upon his honour preyed upon his
mind. If he made his small band of regulars fight to keep them, Moslem
blood would be shed, and probably fruitlessly shed, for the sake of
infidels. If he tamely surrendered them, how could he look Abdel Kader
in the face? He determined to make away with them. On the night of the
24th of April they were massacred. Ten officers alone were spared.
The first step taken by Abdel Kader on his arrival at the Deira, July
18th, was to endeavour to get the survivors exchanged. His efforts, as
usual in such matters, failed. They were, however, finally ransomed for
30,000 francs. Abdel Kader felt it due to his own reputation, utterly
guiltless as he was of this deed of blood, to address the following
letter to the King of the French:—
“Praise be to God, the merciful and compassionate. Glory to our lord and
master Mohammed.
“On the part of the Prince of the Faithful, Sid-il Hadj Abdel Kader-ibn
Mehi-ed-deen, may God vouchsafe unto him his favour both in this and
another world; to the Sultan of the Christians, the commander-in-chief
of the French armies, King Louis Philippe, may God constantly promote
the increase of his power, and the execution of his projects in all that
relates to the happiness of his people, and especially enable him to
exalt those who follow the good path, and to confound all who do
otherwise.
“I would call to your recollection that we have ever been ready to
accept conditions of peace. We have even accepted conditions which you
thought proper to impose upon us. We rejoiced to be on a good
understanding with you. Our alliance was cemented by good faith. Our
treaties had your personal approbation. By an exchange of presents we
likewise confirmed our mutual feelings of friendship.
“Such was our position up to the moment when certain influential persons
in Algeria gave a too willing ear to perfidious insinuations tending to
interrupt the harmony which existed between us, and represented us as
being culpable and blameworthy, whereas it was we, on the contrary, who
had every reason to complain of their injustice committed towards us.
“I have written to you many times, both officially and confidentially,
and invariably my intentions were misconstrued to such an extent that
the evil consequences spread themselves unchecked all over Algeria.
“During our late expedition in the East, and in the numerous battles we
fought, God permitted many prisoners to fall into our hands. We rejoiced
at the circumstance, because it gave us power to offer an exchange. Last
year we were unable to treat for the deliverance of the Mussulman
prisoners in your hands, because we were not prepared to offer you a
proposition which would have suited you. In previous years, however, we
have sent back to Marshal Bugeaud more than a hundred prisoners without
exchange.
“Lately, when we had a certain number of your subjects in our power, we
wrote more than once to those who represent you to propose an exchange
of prisoners. We received no answer. All the bearers of our letters were
imprisoned. That was a treachery foreign to French usage. Besides, a
message between hostile sides is always considered neutral.
“Shortly afterwards it was rumoured amongst the Arabs that the French
prisoners were to be rescued by force. It was known that French agents
had offered large sums of money to any who would conduct the prisoners
to the French outposts. It was, moreover, openly declared that the
Emperor of Morocco had undertaken to rescue the prisoners in spite of
us. Your own agents thus became the chief cause of the deplorable event
which has occurred, by their persistence in refusing to treat of an
exchange of prisoners.
“We have never made any difference between the prisoners and our own men
as regards their food and lodging. As soon as we saw there were amongst
them men of rank and honour, who scorned to seek for means of escape, we
gave them a marked preference over the others. We found them grateful.
We proposed to set them at liberty. Their chief (Cognord) knows all the
arrangements which were being made for their liberation. He knows that
we never received any reply to our letters, and that this contemptuous
silence was the cause of the cessation of the good understanding between
you and us.”
Abdel Kader concluded with an urgent appeal for the release of some
Mussulman prisoners, and a warm exculpation of himself from all
knowledge or connivance at any measures whatever which were contrary to
justice and religion. This letter, like all the preceding, remained
unanswered.
During Abdel Kader’s late absence from the Deira, several Arab tribes
had been gradually crossing the frontier, and fixing themselves on
Moorish territory. The Moorish Sultan had given them lands to occupy.
The jealousy of the French was awakened. They feared that the emigrants
might eventually become the nucleus of an invading force. The late
massacre added to their impatience. They called upon Sultan Abderahman
to show at once by his deeds the sincerity of his professions. They
demanded the immediate expulsion of Abdel Kader from his empire.
Abdel Kader, meanwhile, only anxious for freedom from molestation, had
already commenced sowing the grounds near the Melouia for the
subsistence of his Deira. Bou Maza wrote to him inviting him to join him
in renewing the struggle. He rejected the instigation. With whatever the
future might be pregnant, for the present he sought only repose and
tranquillity. But these blessings he was not allowed to obtain. Mouley
Abderahman sent him a letter to the effect that he must immediately
withdraw, with his Deira, from Moorish territory.
Abdel Kader assembled his followers, and read them the letter. They
unanimously declared it would be ignominious to yield to the demand of a
recreant who had betrayed his faith and signed a humiliating treaty with
the infidel. “We have pledged ourselves by oath,” they said, “to fight
with you to the death. We are ready to follow you wherever you choose.
But into Algeria we will not follow you. Abdel Kader conveyed these
sentiments to Abderahman, promising at the same time not to attack the
French. In his Deira he would resignedly await the decrees of God.
The Moorish tribes were now secretly instructed to molest the Deira.
They refused to sell it provisions. Its foraging parties were attacked
and robbed. Abdel Kader wrote a strong appeal to Abderahman against such
conduct. He got neither answer nor redress. He endured this treatment
patiently for six months. Again he addressed the Moorish Sultan, and
warned him that if such annoyances were continued he should vindicate
his own rights.
In self-defence he now re-assumed a hostile attitude. His body-guard of
1,200 cavalry and 800 infantry patrolled the country on all sides. The
Moorish aggressors were chased to their very tents; they were brought to
the Deira and chastised. By a few such acts of vigour his position was
improved; provisions flowed in. More than one Moorish tribe offered to
join the Deira. Wherever Abdel Kader showed his person he was welcomed
with professions of submission and allegiance; his material strength
increased hourly. The large and influential tribe of the Beni Hamian
sent in their adhesion.
One night, while the Deira was still at Ain Zohra, an assassin glided,
unperceived by the guards, into the tent of Abdel Kader. The Sultan was
reading. Hearing a footstep, he raised his head, and saw standing before
him a tall, powerful negro, with a dagger in his hand. Suddenly the man
dashed the weapon to the ground, and threw himself at his feet. “I was
going to strike you,” he exclaimed, “but the sight of you disarmed me. I
thought I saw the halo of the Prophet around your head.”
Abdel Kader, rising slowly from his seat, and without betraying the
least emotion, placed his hand on the negro’s head and said, “You came
into my tent as an assassin. God, who moved you to repent of your wicked
intention, has ordained that you should leave it an innocent man. Go,
then, and remember that the servant of God has pardoned you.”
In the month of July, 1847, the Deira was encamped in Wady Aslaf, on the
territory of the Kabyles of the Rif. While in this position it was
suddenly menaced by a large Moorish force led by Mouley Hashem, the
Sultan’s nephew, and the Kaid El Hamra. The Prince began by sending out
a strong reconnaissance, which was immediately repulsed by the Deira’s
outposts. Abdel Kader sent to the Prince to demand an explanation as to
the cause of this hostile proceeding in the midst of peace. He received
a haughty and disdainful answer. That very night he fell upon the
Moorish camp by surprise, and completely routed and dispersed it. The
Kaid El Hamra was slain, and Mouley Hashem barely escaped with his life.
A great quantity of baggage was taken, and specie to the amount of
£2,000 English money. Abdel Kader and his chiefs viewed with mingled
feelings of scorn and triumph the splendid cloaks and burnouses which
the Moorish Prince had packed up in cases, for the purpose of
distributing them amongst the Sheiks of the Rif tribes, and inducing
them by such gifts to join him. On his return to the Deira Abdel Kader
found that the Beni Kullayieh, availing themselves of his absence, had
made an irruption into his camp and carried off all the camels. Without
a moment’s repose he pursued the marauders, slew upwards of a hundred of
them, and captured all their Sheiks.
The rumour of Abdel Kader’s renewed activity, and of the momentary gleam
of success which shone upon his efforts, was quickly bruited throughout
the Moorish empire. It created a sensation amongst its fanatic
population which thrilled to the very capital. The emigrant Algerian
tribes, which had been located by order of the Moorish Sultan within
three days of Fez, longed to regain their adored chief. The Beni Amer
entered into correspondence with him, and begged him to assist them in
effecting a junction.
Sultan Abderahman got notice of the design. In his terror he fancied
Abdel Kader thundering at his palace and hurling him from his throne.
Not a moment was to be lost; a force of 15,000 men was at once
despatched against Beni Amer. The tribe, taken unawares, was cut to
pieces, while the women and children were carried away into slavery.
Such persevering and even barbarous acts of hostility filled Abdel Kader
with despair and indignation. But what could his handful of men effect
against the combined armies of France and Morocco, amounting to 100,000
men? He determined to make a last appeal to his old friend, patron, and
admirer. He sent his Khalifa, Bou Hamedi, on a mission to Fez. In the
most solemn manner he invoked the glorious recollections of the past. He
claimed the sacred rites of hospitality in the name of every tie of
friendship and religion.
But the days of country, of fraternity, of holy sympathy, were
irrevocably past. Mouley Abderahman saw himself daily environed with
fresh difficulties. The French Government hourly demanded the literal
execution of its treaty. Bou Hamedi was thrown into prison, where he
shortly afterwards died. Abdel Kader at length received the following
imperial mandate:—“Abdel Kader must either surrender himself in person
to Sultan Abderahman, or return to the Algerian desert. In case of
refusal or delay, the imperial armies will march against him.” The last
link was thus broken between him and his only hope. He stood at bay,
alone.
Calm and undismayed, he now saw the toils closing around him. In the
Deira all was grief and despondency. His own brothers had left him. Ben
Salem—the faithful, long-tried, and devoted Ben Salem—was a voluntary
prisoner in the French camp. His whole available force barely amounted
to 2,000 men, but among these there were 1,200 horsemen, the flower of
the Algerian cavalry. Most of these men, also, had been the Sultan’s
inseparable companions, partakers in all his hardships and dangers
throughout the whole of his heroic career.
During the short period of rest which Abdel Kader now enjoyed, he daily
summoned them around him. He was incessant in vocal prayer and
exhortation. The bronzed old warriors hung with rapture on his accents.
Fired with martial enthusiasm, they prepared for the final act.
At other times Abdel Kader retired to his tent, and kept long and lonely
vigils. One night he stood up for seven successive hours while he
repeated off by heart the whole of the Koran, from beginning to end. In
such religious exercises he renewed his soul’s strength. Ever worthy of
his destiny, he now towered above it.
CHAPTER XX.
1847.
On the 9th of December, 1847, the Deira was stationed at Agueddin, on
the left bank of the Melouia. It comprised in all about 5,000 souls.
Rumours had long been afloat that the Moroccan army was advancing
towards it in great strength. On the 10th Abdel Kader got positive
information that Muley Mohammed and Muley Soliman, the two sons of
Sultan Abderahman, were at only three hours’ distance, at the head of
upwards of 50,000 men. This force, he learned, was divided into three
grand divisions, with intervals of half a mile between each. The first
division, consisting mostly of Arab auxiliaries, such as the tribes of
the Riff, the Beni Snassen, and others, had taken up its ground, it was
reported, around the ruined castle of Selwan.
Abdel Kader saw at once that if this imposing array was permitted to
move forwards unmolested, his Deira would inevitably be captured. On the
other hand, to attack it with his small force seemed to him like to
rushing on certain destruction. Feelings of honour, of chivalry, of
revenge, however, all conspired to make him determine on essaying a
desperate effort.
On the 11th he collected together his 1,200 cavalry and 800 infantry.
After a spirited harangue, he informed them that they must prepare that
very night to follow him to battle. To such a command, amongst such
followers, there could be but one reply. They all departed in silence to
accoutre themselves for the approaching struggle.
At dead of night they moved on. Two camels, covered entirely with
_halfa_, a kind of brushwood, and which had been dipped in tar and
pitch, were driven in front of the little column. After a march of two
hours the first division of the enemy was reached; the _halfa_ around
the camels was set fire to, and the maddened animals plunged furiously
on; the infantry fired; the cavalry, led on by Abdel Kader, charged.
The amazement and bewilderment of the Moroccans and the Arabs upon whom
this sudden tempest fell was immeasurable. Slumbering in fancied
security during the calm silence of the night, they suddenly saw the
thick darkness illumined by flashes of light, the glistening of sabres,
and the glare of two incomprehensible meteors sweeping above and around
them with unearthly coruscations. The terrors of superstition were
superadded to those of fright and consternation. The men rushed off in
all directions, as though the gates of hell had been opened and its
demons let loose against them, abandoning arms, tents, and baggage.
In the meantime Abdel Kader and his cavalry had passed on, and were in
deadly collision with the second division, which in like manner was
surprised, defeated, and dispersed. In less than half an hour the third
division was reached. There, warned by the noise and tumult in their
front, the Moroccan princes had just had time to draw up some regulars
to defend their persons. The intention of Abdel Kader was to make
straight for their tent and make them prisoners. Checked by a heavy fire
of infantry and artillery, he now withdrew; and, as the day dawned,
slowly and steadily he took up a position on an adjoining eminence, and
thence enjoyed the sight of his discomfited and broken foe.
At mid-day, 5,000 Moroccan cavalry moved out against him. He calmly
awaited their approach, and when they had arrived at a charging distance
led on his men to the attack, ploughing through and through their
clustering files, and shaking them off like dew-drops from the lion’s
mane. By a skilful combination of assault and retreat, Abdel Kader and
his illustrious cavalcade regained the Melouia towards sunset.
Many were the brilliant passages of arms performed by those giant
warriors, who, in that memorable struggle, crowned their long career of
glory by deeds of superhuman valour. Memorable also was that struggle,
as having furnished the closing scene to the stirring and eventful
career of Ibn Yahyié, the favourite and far-famed Aga of Abdel Kader.
Ibn Yahyié was the stalwart champion of countless combats. He was
surnamed “El Sheitan” from his wondrous exploits and marvellous escapes.
In his day he had had seventeen horses killed under him. It was now his
destiny to earn his last laurels in a martyr’s death.
The Deira had nearly effected its passage across the river. The baggage
and the spoils taken from the enemy were still traversing it when Abdel
Kader arrived. The Moroccan army advanced, but cautiously. Their cavalry
now only fired long shots, unenvious of renewing their lately-earned
bitter experience.
Nevertheless, the situation of Abdel Kader was full of peril. Never had
the Deira been in such imminent danger. The ammunition was expended. The
large quantities of ammunition which Abdel Kader’s followers had
captured and were now bringing in proved useless—it was unsuited to
their muskets. The infantry, therefore, could be turned to no account.
But Abdel Kader still saw his Old Guard around him, and looked and felt
triumphant. Their presence was, in his mind, the Deira’s safeguard.
The Melouia was at length passed. Though the foe kept pressing on, Abdel
Kader refused to leave its banks until his Deira was a full hour in
advance, on the plain of Triffa. At last it reached the river Kis,
crossed it about midnight, and ceased to be molested. It was on French
territory.
Of all that tumultuous crowd of men, women, children, and animals, not a
life had been sacrificed, not a beast of burden had been lost. Abdel
Kader, by his coolness, skill, and intrepidity, had been its guardian
genius. Many a sad blank, however, had been made in the ranks of that
heroic band, which with such unflinching devotion had answered to the
voice of its chief and emulated his example, throughout the unparalleled
foray in which under his guidance they had been so unequally engaged.
Upwards of 200 had been slain. All were more or less bleeding from
wounds. Abdel Kader himself had had three horses shot under him.
Leaving his Deira in momentary security, he now turned towards the hills
of the Beni Snassen—a tribe which yet adhered to him in part. His
indomitable cavalry followed in anxious silence, suffering, wearied, and
exhausted. The rain fell in torrents. Heavy and conflicting thoughts
preyed on the mind of the wandering chief. Though the French were seen
in the distance, occupying the principal pass of the Kerbous, there were
yet narrow defiles through which he could emerge into the Sahara. He
might yet try his fortunes. But to what end? he thought despairingly.
How was he to persevere in a bootless struggle? What force had he at
command? On what assistance could he calculate? Then his thoughts
reverted to his aged mother, his wife and children, his helpless
followers, who were within three hours of the French camp, and might
probably enter it ere long a mounted train, as prisoners of war. In no
extremity had Abdel Kader ever found himself so hopelessly pressed. He
felt the crisis of his fate had come. What he meant to determine, he
knew he must determine quickly.
He sounded a halt. He ordered his men to close up. When they had
surrounded him, he thus commenced a conference which he had that moment
resolved to open:—
“Do you remember the oath you took at Medea eight years ago, at the
renewal of the war,” he said—“the oath that you would never forsake or
abandon me, whatever might be your dangers or sufferings?”
“We all remember it, and are ready still to adhere to it.” “That oath,”
pursued Abdel Kader, “I have ever considered to be binding on me towards
you, as well as on you towards me. It is this feeling alone which has
made me persevere in our struggle up to this hour, even against hope. I
was resolved that no Mussulman, of whatever rank or degree, should ever
be able to accuse me of binding you to any engagement which I on my part
was not equally prepared to fulfil; or to say that I had not done all in
my power to insure the triumph of the cause of God. If you think I can
yet do anything, tell me. If not, I ask you to release me from the oath
I made you mentally, when I solemnly demanded yours.”
“We all bear witness before God, that you have done all that it was in
your power to do for his cause. At the day of judgment God will do you
justice.”
“If that is your opinion, we have now only three courses open before
us—either to return for the Deira, and with it be prepared to encounter
every obstacle; or to seek out a path for ourselves into the Sahara, in
which case, the women, children, and wounded would not be able to follow
us, and must fall into the hands of the enemy; or, lastly, to submit.”
“Perish women and children, both ours and yours, so long as you are safe
and able to renew the battles of God. You are our head, our Sultan;
fight or surrender, as you will, we will follow you wherever you choose
to lead.”
Abdel Kader paused for a few moments, and then with deep emotion
resumed:—
“Believe me, the struggle is over. Let us be resigned. God is witness
that we have fought as long as we have been able. If He has not given us
the victory, it is because He has deemed that this land should belong to
the Christians. It signifies very little whether I remain in the country
or not. What more can I do for the cause we have so long defended
together? Can I renew the war? I shall be defeated; and the Arabs would
only be exposed to renewed sufferings.
“Besides, the tribes are tired of the war. They would no longer obey me.
We must submit. The only question is, whether we shall deliver ourselves
into the hands of the Christians, or into those of Mouley Abderahman. In
this respect you can do as you judge best. As for myself, I would prefer
a thousand times to trust in those who have fought against me, than in
the man who has betrayed me. Our situation is difficult; and our demands
must consequently be modest. I shall confine myself to asking for a safe
conduct for myself and my family, and those of you who choose to follow
me to another Mussulman country.”
A doubt was now raised by some of the members of the conference as to
the probability of such a stipulation being faithfully carried into
execution. To this doubt Abdel Kader replied, “Do not be afraid. The
word of the French is one. Either they will not pledge their word to its
fulfilment, and then we can see what is best to be done; or if they
pledge their word, they will keep it.” “Sultan,” was the universal
reply, “let your will be done.”
The rain was still falling so incessantly that it was impossible for
Abdel Kader to write down his demands. Taking a piece of paper, he
affixed his seal to it, and immediately dispatched it with two horsemen,
who were commissioned to show the seal to the French General, as a sign
of authorisation on his part for demands which they were to make in his
name verbally.
During the night of the 21st December, Lamoricière had been informed
both of the arrival of the Deira within the French frontier, and of the
direction which Abdel Kader and his little force had taken. To the Deira
he at once sent assurances of safety. The prize was important. But the
concentration of any amount of men against the camp of Abdel Kader would
have been of little permanent avail, if the redoubtable chief himself
were yet at large. Without a moment’s delay, therefore, Lamoricière
started in his pursuit, at the head of a small column of infantry and
cavalry.
He had scarcely marched three hours when he was unexpectedly joined by
Ben Khouia, a lieutenant of his Arab Spahis, accompanied by the two
emissaries of Abdel Kader. The latter showed him their master’s seal and
stated his demands. Lamoricière was overjoyed. He granted everything.
But, as in the case of Abdel Kader, the rain prevented him from stating
his consent in writing, and his seal was not in his possession. In this
emergency he gave his sword, and the seal of Commandant Bazaine, to the
emissaries, to be presented to Abdel Kader in token of the acceptance of
his conditions.
At a later period, when taunted in the Chamber of Deputies with having
allowed Abdel Kader to escape, when by a little energy he could have
taken him prisoner, and with having committed a grave error in so
unreservedly granting him the privilege of unrestricted liberty,
Lamoricière thus defended his conduct, defined his position, and stated
the motives which had induced him to sign the treaty thus attacked:—
“It has been brought as a charge against me that I entered into a
negotiation in place of marching on. Do you know what I should have
taken if I had marched on? I should have taken his convoy; I should have
made one razzia the more; I should have been able to report that I had
taken the tent of Abdel Kader, his carpet, his harem, perhaps one of his
Khalifas; but he, with his cavalry, would have gone into the desert.
“The Emir made a voluntary abdication; and France, after having thrown
the whole weight of its brave armies upon Algeria, saw the chief who had
preached, excited, and conducted the Holy War, come in the end, and
voluntarily deposit his arms in the hands of the Governor-General. For
France, this was at once a military, a political, and a moral triumph.
The effect produced by it among the natives was immense, and its
consequences have yet to be developed.
“Abdel Kader is the incarnation of a principle—of a great religious
sentiment; and in Algeria this is the only political sentiment which
unites the population. This principle manifested itself in the Holy War.
It had the same force which legitimacy formerly possessed amongst us.
When a man by the prestige of the past, by his belief, by his eloquence,
by the battles he has fought, and by the successes he has gained, has
become the living representative of an idea profoundly agitating the
masses, an immense danger is incurred as long as he is left in his
country.”
Abdel Kader had moved on to the village of Triaret. His emissaries
returned. He convoked his men to deliberate on the answer which he had
received. It was remarked that the promise given by the French general
was merely verbal; and, although the value of the answer was
acknowledged, supported as it was by the transmission of the general’s
sword and the seal of one of his officers, yet it was considered only
prudent, when a decision of such vital importance to all was to be
taken, that a further guarantee should be claimed.
The rain having ceased, Abdel Kader now wrote a letter to Lamoricière,
stating his demands, and again dispatched his emissaries to seek him
out. The general had already communicated the important transaction to
the Duc D’Aumale, the new Governor-General, who happened to be in the
immediate neighbourhood. On receiving Abdel Kader’s letter, he had
addressed his Royal Highness as follows:—
“I have been obliged to make engagements; I have made them, and I have
done so with the fullest confidence that your Royal Highness and the
Government will ratify them if the Emir relies on my word.
“I am this instant mounting my horse to go to the Deira. I have no time
to send you a copy of the letter which I have received from the Emir, or
of my reply to it. Suffice it for me to state, that I have only
_promised and stipulated_ that the Emir and his family shall be
conducted to St. Jean d’Acre or Alexandria. These are the only two
places which I have mentioned. They are those which he designated in his
demand, and which I have accepted.”
With a written stipulation in his possession, in entire compliance with
his own terms, Abdel Kader had no further cause for hesitation or delay.
On the morning of the 23rd of December he proceeded, accompanied by such
of his chiefs and followers as had decided on sharing his fortunes in a
foreign land, to the marabout (or temple) of Sidi Ibrahim. There he was
received by Colonel Montauban, at the head of 500 cavalry, with all the
respect, sympathy, and consideration due to his exalted rank, to the
recollection of his past glorious deeds, and to the spectacle of his
present heavy and severe misfortune.
Abdel Kader begged for permission to be allowed to enter the sacred
edifice. On this request being granted, he dismounted, and, on reaching
the door, took off his sword, and gave it to one of his attendants. His
military career had ended. Hitherto his life had been devoted to God and
his country. Henceforth it was to be devoted to God alone. After having
been an hour engaged in prayer, he came forth, and the whole cavalcade
at once moved on.
At six o’clock in the evening it reached Djemma Ghazouat, the head-
quarters of the Duc D’Aumale. A few minutes afterwards Abdel Kader,
accompanied by General de Lamoricière, General Cavaignac, and Colonel
Beaufort, was presented to his Royal Highness. After a moment’s pause he
pronounced the following words:—“I had wished to have done what I am
doing this day at an earlier period. I awaited the hour destined by God.
The general has given me a word on which I fully rely. I am not afraid
that it will be broken by the son of a great king like the King of the
French.”
The Prince, in a few clear and explicit words, pledged himself that the
general’s word and engagements should be strictly observed. Abdel Kader
then withdrew and went to his Deira, which had recently joined the
French encampment.
The next morning the Duc D’Aumale held a review. Abdel Kader, riding a
magnificent black charger of the purest Arab breed, and surrounded by
his chiefs, awaited his return from the field. On his Royal Highness
approaching he dismounted, and advancing to his side, said, “I offer you
this horse, the last which I have mounted. It has been a great
favourite, but now we must part. It is a testimony of my gratitude, and
I hope it may always carry you in safety and happiness.” “I accept it,”
replied the Prince, “as a homage rendered to France, the protection of
which country will henceforth be ever extended towards you; and as a
sign that the past is forgotten.”
On the 25th December, 1847, Abdel Kader, his family and followers,
embarked in the _Asmodeus_ frigate for Toulon. All his personal effects,
his baggage, his tents, his horses, mules, and camels, had previously
been sold by the French authorities for 6,000 francs. But even this
paltry sum was afterwards only doled out to him in instalments, and a
strict investigation was even instituted as to the manner in which each
instalment was disbursed. General de Lamoricière accompanied him on
board, and generously made him a present of 4,000 francs. Abdel Kader,
in return, gave him his sword.
The sensations of joy and triumph excited in France at the news of Abdel
Kader’s surrender were unbounded. Algeria could at last and with truth
be styled “a French colony.” The _Moniteur_ of January 3rd, 1848, thus
alludes to the welcome intelligence:—“The subjugation of Abdel Kader is
an event of immense importance to France. It assures the tranquillity of
our conquest. It permits us sensibly to reduce the quota of men and
money which we have been sending for so many years to Africa. It
contributes, from this fact alone, to augment the force of France in
Europe. _To-day, France can, if necessary, transport to other quarters
the hundred thousand men which held the conquered populations under her
yoke_.”
What a tribute are these words to the genius and ascendancy of one man!
CHAPTER XXI.
1847-1848.
Abdel Kader arrived at Toulon the last week in December, 1847. A few
hours, or days at most, he thought, would suffice for any arrangement
which might still be necessary to facilitate his departure for the East.
He was invited to disembark, though no preparations whatever had been
made to receive him.
To his surprise, he and his family, and followers, eighty-eight in all,
were marched up to a fortress—the Fortress of Lamalgue. He remonstrated.
He was told not to be alarmed; and it was explained to him that a
certain time was necessary for the requisite correspondence, either with
the Turkish Government, if he was to be sent to St. Jean d’Acre, or with
the Egyptian Government, if he was to be sent to Alexandria; and that
then he could be allowed to proceed to his place of destination.
The day after his imprisonment a French officer demanded an interview.
General Daumas came, officially charged by the King of the French, to
make him the most brilliant offers, if he would only consent to forego
the solemn word which had been given him by General Lamoricière and the
Duc D’Aumale when he surrendered. He was offered a splendid position in
France—a royal château, a guard of honour, and all the pomp and
appurtenances of a prince.
Abdel Kader listened to the shameful proposal in contemptuous silence.
Being pressed for a reply, his countenance flashed up, and fixing his
eagle eye on his old friend, he said with warmth, “Have you ceased to
know me? What! is it you who thus speaks to me? Your diplomatic talents,
I have no doubt, are very useful to France; but I intreat you not to
expend them thus uselessly on me.”
Then, taking up a corner of his burnous with both hands, and leaning
towards the window, he exclaimed, “If you were to bring me, on the part
of your King, all the wealth of France in millions and in diamonds, and
it were possible to place them all in the fold of my burnous, I would
throw them on the instant into the sea which washes my prison walls,
rather than give you back the word which has been so solemnly given me.
That word I will carry with me to my grave. I am your guest. Make me
your prisoner if you will; but the shame and ignominy will be with you,
not with me.”
He was asked if he would like to go to Paris. “I know,” he replied,
“that Ibrahim Pacha lately visited it, and admired its wonders. But
France was to him a land of hospitality. He was free! As for me, as long
as I remain a prisoner, all France is but a dungeon. I have no wish to
be a victim crowned with garlands.”
Patient and resigned himself, Abdel Kader infused his followers with the
same spirit. They had hitherto been his subjects, accustomed to approach
him with all the deference and respect due to royalty. They were now his
companions. A common calamity had levelled all barriers. He placed his
little means at their disposal, too happy if he could in any way
contribute to their wants and alleviate their sufferings. “In the
position in which I am now placed,” he said, “I must do as my ancestors
have done. I can no longer say, ‘My horse, my burnous, my goods;’ but
‘Our horse, our burnous, our goods.’”
One day General Daumas came to visit him. It was in the depth of winter.
Abdel Kader was without a fire. The general expressed his surprise. “My
wood,” he replied, “was finished yesterday, and I could not bring myself
to ask any of my companions to spare me some of theirs. Poor fellows! in
place of taking from them, I wish it were always in my power to bestow.”
“You are not, then, like those great chiefs who seem to take a pleasure
in exhausting their people,” remarked General Daumas. “If I had
resembled such rulers,” was the reply of Abdel Kader, “would the Arabs
have sustained the struggle with you so long as they did, and sacrificed
everything to uphold me?”
Day after day passed, and still there came no orders for his release. A
painful uncertainty agitated his mind. At one time Colonel Beaufort, the
Duc D’Aumale’s aide-de-camp, assured him, on the part of the Prince,
that the King had resolved that the stipulation made with him should be
fulfilled. At another time he was told that the Chamber of Deputies had
called its validity in question.
On the 28th of February, 1848, Abdel Kader got the news of the
revolution, of the abdication of the king, of the proclamation of the
Republic. He saw at once the immense import of that event to his own
prospects, and felt himself to be the sport of a capricious fortune.
With the new Government he had no bond. He could no longer plead for the
sanctity of treaties, of honour, of good faith. He could not expect an
act of generosity, he felt, when he had failed to obtain common justice.
The sudden crash of a monarchy, hitherto supposed to be fixed on a solid
and enduring basis, was to him an apposite spectacle. He moralised to
those around him on the worthlessness and instability of human grandeur.
“Behold,” he said to General Daumas, “behold a Sultan who was everywhere
esteemed great and powerful, who had contracted alliances with other
sovereigns, who had a numerous family to perpetuate his line, who was
renowned for his wisdom and experience! A day has sufficed to overthrow
him. Am I not right in my conviction that there is no other real force,
no truth and no reality, but in the will of God? Believe me, this world
is a carcass; dogs only quarrel over it.”
He received a visit from M. Olivier, Commissary-General of the
Provisional Government. The great Republic had deigned to think of its
captive. But it approached him not as a Paladin, chivalrously determined
to redeem French honour, but as a suppliant, trembling at the magic of a
name which, even in its collapse, was of ominous import to French
dominion. He was asked what guarantees he could give to France that he
would not appear again in Algeria.
“I have no other guarantee to give of my unchangeable resolution for the
future,” he replied, “but that which I have already given. If I had not
wished to surrender I should not have been here. I came to you freely
and voluntarily. This guarantee is worth all others.” “Would you sign
with your hand,” pursued the delegate, “and will the chiefs who are
around you sign with their hands, a document sworn to on the Koran, by
which you solemnly declare that you will never appear again in Algeria,
or mix yourselves up, directly or indirectly, in its affairs?” “Such a
document I would sign with my eyes, if my hands were not sufficient.”
Abdel Kader was then asked to address a letter to the Provisional
Government, enclosing a document to that effect. He penned and forwarded
the following _précis_:—
“Praise be to the one God, whose empire alone is everlasting.
“To the upholders of the Republic which governs France, and who are,
with regard to it, as the eyes and limbs are to the body.
“Sidi Olivier, your commissioner, has been to see me. He has informed me
that the French, with one accord, have abolished royalty, and have
decreed that their country shall henceforward be a Republic.
“I was rejoiced at the news, for I have read in books that such a form
of government has for its object to root out injustice, and to prevent
the strong from doing violence to the weak. You are generous men. You
desire the good of all; and your acts are expected to be dictated by the
spirit of justice. God has appointed you to be the protectors of the
unhappy and afflicted. I look to you, therefore, as my natural
protectors. Remove the veil of grief which has been thrown over me. I
seek justice at your hands.
“That which I have done not one of you can condemn. I defended my
country and my religion as long as I could; and I am persuaded that, as
noble-minded men, you cannot but applaud me. When I was conquered—when
it was impossible for me any longer to doubt that God, for inscrutable
reasons, had withdrawn his support from me—I decided to withdraw from
the world. It was then, when I could have found an asylum with perfect
ease amongst the Berbers, or the tribes of the Sahara, that I consented
to place myself in the hands of the French.
“I was convinced that when once they promised to do so, they would
convey me to the country whither I declared it my wish to go. It was
with this conviction that I selected France wherein to put my trust; for
the word of France up to this day has been held to be inviolable. I
demanded from General Lamoricière that I should be conveyed to
Alexandria, without touching at Oran, or Algiers, or any port in France.
“To this demand he not only gave a verbal adhesion, but sent me a letter
solemnly guaranteeing the fulfilment of my wish, signed with his name in
French, and sealed with his Arabic seal. When this letter reached me,
believing the word of the French was _one_, I gave myself up into his
hands. At present this belief is shaken. Confirm me in it by giving me
my liberty. You have accomplished a work which promises to confer
happiness on all. Let me not be a solitary exception.
“Often have I said to myself, ‘Had the French taken me prisoner in
battle, they would have treated me well; for they are brave and
generous, and know how to hold the balance between the conqueror and the
conquered.’ Well, I have not been made prisoner. I gave myself up of my
own free will. Some of you may imagine that, regretting the step I took,
I still harbour thoughts of returning to Algeria. That can never be. I
may actually be numbered amongst the dead. My sole wish is to be allowed
to go to Mecca and Medina, there to worship and adore the all-powerful
God, until He calls me to Him.
“Receive my salutations.
“ABDEL KADER IBN MEHI-ED-DEEN.
“9 _Rebia il Oual_, 1264.
“_March_, 1848.”
Within this letter was enclosed the document demanded at his hands. It
ran as follows:—
“Praise be to the One God.
“I give you a sacred word which cannot be doubted.
“I declare that I will never henceforward excite troubles against the
French, either in person, or by letters, or by any other means
whatsoever.
“I make this oath before God, by Mohammed (praise and salutation be to
him), by Abraham, Moses, and Jesus Christ; by the Pentateuch, the
Gospel, and the Koran. I make this oath with my heart as well as with my
hand and tongue.
“This oath is binding on me and on my companions, one hundred and more
in number; on those who sign this document, and on those who sign it
not, being unable to write.
“Salutation from ABDEL KADER IBN MEHI-ED-DEEN.”
Abdel Kader felt assured that these documents, having been officially
demanded, would prove the immediate prelude to his release. The dawn of
each successive day was hailed as the harbinger of liberty. At last the
anxiously expected answer arrived. It was opened with impatience. Its
substance was, that “the Republic considered itself bound by no
obligation to Abdel Kader, and that it took him as the previous
Government had left him—a prisoner.”
The bitter mockery pierced Abdel Kader to the heart. He sunk into the
deepest despondency. Life was a burden to him, he declared. General
Daumas approached him with words of consolation. “How can you be
surprised,” he exclaimed in reply, with mournful earnestness, “that my
resignation should falter before the greatness of my calamity? My
family, my followers, are in despair. My aged mother and the women of my
household weep night and day, and no longer credit the hope I am obliged
to hold out to them.
“What do I say? Not only the women, but the men, give way to
lamentations. Their state is such, that I am persuaded if our captivity
is much prolonged, many will die. And it is I who am the cause of all
this misery! I alone persisted in surrendering to the French. None of
them willingly consented to it. You have, indeed, made me a deceiver;
and now they all reproach me for my confidence in you.
“Is there no tribunal in France especially charged to hear the cries and
reclamations of the injured? Call together all your Ulemas, and I
undertake to convince them of my rights. Ah! the Republic is far
different from that Sultan who, having become deaf, was seen to weep;
and being asked the cause of his tears, replied, ‘I weep because I can
no longer hear the complaints of the distressed and afflicted.’”
An order came for the removal of the prisoners to the Château of Pau.
They arrived there April 20th, 1848. The authorities had been informed
that English agents were in the neighbourhood seeking to facilitate
Abdel Kader’s escape. The windows of the château were barred with iron.
Sentinels paced under them night and day.
Abdel Kader smiled inwardly at all these precautions. The season of
suspense was over. He felt himself a prisoner for life, and he stoically
reconciled himself to his fate. A severe self-control disciplined his
hitherto tempestuous emotions. The magnanimity of his soul resumed its
wonted ascendancy. In a man possessing the mental energy and resources
of Abdel Kader, there could be no such feeling as that of solitude. But
the outer world now pressed on him. He accepted its diversion as a duty
rather than a pleasure. Crowds from all parts of France knocked at the
portals of the château. Impelled by mingled feelings of curiosity,
sympathy, and admiration, statesmen, diplomatists, and warriors, vied
with each other in doing homage to the august prisoner in his
misfortunes. Abdel Kader was obliged to hold levees, which sometimes
lasted for hours.
All were charmed with the loftiness and originality of his observations,
the delicacy of his allusions, the felicity of his compliments. Above
all, they were astonished to find that, so far from upbraiding those who
had been the cause of his severe trial, he seemed to take a pleasure in
suggesting extenuating circumstances for their conduct, and in
endeavouring to relieve them of the burden of their treason and their
shame.
General Daumas was his constant attendant. The general impression
respecting Abdel Kader may be gathered from the following letter,
addressed by the General to Monseigneur Dupuch, the Bishop of
Algiers:—“You are going to see the illustrious prisoner of the Château
of Pau. Oh! you will certainly not regret your journey. You have known
Abdel Kader in his prosperity, at a time when, so to speak, all Algeria
acknowledged his rule. Well, you will find him greater and more
extraordinary in his adversity than he was in his prosperity. Still, as
ever, he towers to the height of his position.
“You will find him mild, simple, affectionate, modest, resigned, never
complaining; excusing his enemies—even those at whose hands he may yet
have much to suffer—and never permitting evil to be spoken of them in
his presence. Mussulmans and Christians alike, however justly he might
complain of them, have found his forgiveness. He throws the conduct of
the former on the force of circumstances. The safety and honour of the
flag under which they fought explains that of the latter. In going to
console such a noble, such an exalted character, you will add another
work of sanctity to those by which your life is already distinguished.”
The Christian bishop and the Arab chief had long been bound by ties of
common fellowship in deeds of mercy and compassion; and Abdel Kader
selected his magnanimous coadjutor in the convention of Sidi Khalifa as
the depository of his inmost thoughts and reflections. His
correspondence with the bishop was constant and unremitting.
Latterly he wrote, “As you may have discovered in the mirrors of our
conversation, I was not born to be a warrior. It seems to me I ought
never to have been one for a single day. Yet I have borne arms all my
life. Mysterious are the designs of Providence! It was only by a wholly
unforeseen concourse of circumstances that I suddenly found myself
thrown so completely out of the career pointed out to me by my birth, my
education, and my predilection—a career which, as you well know, I
ardently long to resume, and to which I never cease praying to God to
allow me to return, now at the close of my laborious years.”
A record of all the remarks made by Abdel Kader to his numerous visitors
would require in themselves a volume. Not one left him without carrying
away and treasuring up some charming efflorescence of his facile and
comprehensive intellect. A distinguished advocate assured him of the
sympathies of an influential statesman. “I believe there is a little
fire of affection for me in his heart,” replied Abdel Kader; “but do not
let that prevent you from supplying it at times with fuel.”
When grasping simultaneously the hand of a priest and that of an
officer, he remarked, “I like such visits and such faces, because one
knows you at the first glance. Yours is the double uniform of devoted
souls and generous hearts.”
To a numerous company he once said, “I see around me kind and amiable
people, who are pleased to extol the few good qualities which I possess
by the favour of Heaven; but I fear there is no real friend here to tell
me of my defects, which are much more numerous.”
“I am often afraid for you,” said the Archbishop of Tours, “when I think
of the rigour of our climate.” “It is true your climate is cold, but the
warmth of your reception makes me forget it,” was the reply of Abdel
Kader.
On receiving a colonel at the head of his staff, he said, “I thank you,
colonel, I am deeply touched by your visit, and that of your brave
companions. You have fought me bravely in Africa, and vanquished me. I
adore the designs of God. Your present visit shows me that you think
that I also did my duty; but of that you are the best judges. Again I
thank you. After all, without alluding to any in particular, there ought
to be many an officer in the French army who should be grateful to me,
since but for me many a colonel would be still a captain, and many a
general a colonel.”
To a statesman he thus generously expressed himself:—“I am not irritated
at the previous delays in the execution of the convention between me and
General de Lamoricière. I know well that in the actual position of
France it would be indiscreet and importunate in me to press the matter
too strongly. I only beg not to be overlooked too long.”
A beautiful _bouquet_ having been presented to him by some ladies, he
addressed them in the following strain of Eastern compliment, “In
looking at this, and inhaling the perfume of so many lovely flowers, I
seem to see a symbol of your hearts, and to breathe their delicious
odours.”
The continued succession of visitors at last fatigued him. He begged
that the hours of reception might be restricted. All beheld the
serenity, the cheerfulness of his aspect with wonder and astonishment;
but who could fathom the inward and silent sufferings of that ardent and
impassioned soul, which had worn itself out to absolute exhaustion
during fifteen years, in contending bravely for its country’s
independence; which had only consented to relinquish the sacred struggle
in order to save the domestic hearth; and which now, far from both home
and country, saw all those most dear to it gradually sinking under the
slow and lingering agony of imprisonment and exile?
Still, as the illustrious captive sought to fortify his spirits by those
religious exercises and consolations which had been his life-long
strength and support, the waters of affliction rose around him. In vain
he strove to propitiate Heaven by penitential abnegation, by the most
rigorous fasts, by the most persevering prayers. A remorseless fate
seemed as it were commissioned to hold him in its iron grasp. Death was
almost daily ravishing from him the dearest objects of his love and
solicitude.
Scarcely were his eyes dried from weeping over such of his faithful
companions as had expired in his arms, than they were bent with feverish
anxiety on those whom he still saw before him sinking under the
complicated ravages of disease, melancholy, and despair. After having
wept over a son, a daughter, a nephew of the brightest hopes, he
trembled for his mother and mother-in-law, whose advanced age and
infirmities seemed more especially to mark them out as the next victims.
But despite all these cruel trials, Abdel Kader maintained an unshaken
equanimity of look and demeanour. His words never ceased to breathe the
spirit of heroic resignation. A sympathising voice once reproached him
for his pious austerities. “Why,” he replied, with a melancholy smile,
“why grudge me the consolation and hope of thus rendering my prayers
less unworthy to Him to whom I pour them out from the bottom of my
heart, and who yet, perhaps, one of these days, may answer them from his
throne on High?” With Job he seemed to exclaim, “Though He slay me, yet
will I put my trust in Him.”
Such saint-like simplicity of character, such humility, such almost
feminine grace and gentleness, combined as they were in Abdel Kader with
all the lion-like qualities which exalt and dignify the manly nature,
composed a _beau-ideal_ of moral and physical grandeur, which
involuntarily extorted enthusiastic reverence and adoration. The
extraordinary fascination which he exercised on all around him, whether
resplendent with the flashing of thousands of sabres unsheathed around
him at his command, or enveloped in a prison’s gloom, is attested by
instances of devotion and attachment too numerous to be mentioned.
Abdel Kader had left Algeria for ever, but the magic spell of his name
still remained, and it remains to this day. When some Arab chiefs, after
the surrender of the Sultan, visited the stables of the French
authorities at Mostaganem, the last person in the minds of the latter
was probably Abdel Kader, of whose ominous presence they had been
happily relieved. To their surprise they saw the Arab chiefs throwing
themselves frantically on a splendid black stallion, kissing its neck,
its shoulders, its very feet. It had been Abdel Kader’s charger. “It has
borne him! it has borne him!” was the repeated outburst of their
irrepressible feelings, and with difficulty they were torn away.
When Kara Mohammed, Abdel Kader’s equerry, and his inseparable companion
in all his battles, dangers, and reverses, looked on a porter at the
gates of the château still wearing the royal livery, he could not help
exclaiming, “What! your master is in England and you here! We would
cross mountains and seas to follow our master to the ends of the earth.
In receiving his benefits we are bound to him for life and death.”
Notwithstanding all Abdel Kader’s efforts and exhortations, his
followers gave way to a hopeless despondency. These sons of the desert,
to whom the boundless plains of the Sahara had been a home and the
distant horizon the only limit, languished and pined away in their novel
and dreary abode. The iron had entered into their soul.
At last an order came for their release. The bearer of the news expected
to be hailed with cries of joy and delight. “No, no!” they all with one
accord exclaimed, “while _he_ is a captive, none of us will separate our
lot from his!”
“But your master is going to be removed to another fortress,” was the
answer, “where you will be even more strictly confined than at present.”
“Never mind,” was the general cry. “What signifies? We are willing to
suffer more if necessary: but quit _him_ in his misfortune we never
will.”
In the month of June, 1848, General de Lamoricière was appointed
Minister of War. Abdel Kader now anticipated with certainty the near
approach of his deliverance. The man who had pledged his word to him was
in power. In the pressure of public affairs, however, Abdel Kader feared
he might be overlooked. He hastened, therefore, to address the general a
letter, in which he solemnly abjured him to vindicate his own honour, as
well as the national honour of France. Days, weeks, months elapsed, and
no answer was vouchsafed.
Abdel Kader maintained his usual imperturbability; but his Algerines
became furious. They formed a conspiracy to fall on their guard, unarmed
as they were, kill as many as they could, and taste in a desperate self-
sacrifice the sweetness of revenge. “We thought not of escape,” they
afterwards avowed. “We wanted to die, that our blood might be an eternal
shame to France, inasmuch as we should have been slain for reclaiming
the execution of the promise made to our master.” Abdel Kader, duly
averted of this mad design, interposed in time to thwart it.
The Minister of War was also apprised of it. He dreaded a catastrophe.
He sent an officer to the despairing and overtortured captives, with an
offer of freedom. It was then they returned the noble and sublime answer
already recorded. On the 2nd November, 1848, they voluntarily followed
their beloved master to the Château of Amboise.
An order had preceded them. Neither Abdel Kader nor any of his suite was
to be allowed to have intercourse with persons from without. They were
neither to be permitted to receive nor to write letters. The privilege
of freely receiving visitors was to be taken from them. No applicant for
an interview was to be granted his request without an especial
permission from the Minister of War.
This order was signed “De Lamoricière!”
CHAPTER XXII.
1848-1853.
Although the republican Government of France had acquiesced in the
perpetration of this glaring act of perfidy to Abdel Kader, the
President of the Republic raised his voice in vindication of the cause
of right and justice. On the 14th of January, 1849, twenty-four days
after his election to the presidency, Louis Napoleon convened an
extraordinary council to take the subject into consideration.
In the warmest terms he pleaded the prisoner’s cause. He insisted on the
voluntary surrender, the frank and noble reliance on French honour on
the one hand, and the word pledged and the convention signed on the
other. Such language, emanating from the heir of the illustrious captive
of St. Helena, had more than the weight of a protest; it had in some
respects the sanctity of a reminiscence. Though supported by Bugeaud and
Changarnier, the President’s views were overruled. The Minister of War,
General Rulhière, refused to incur the responsibility of sanctioning the
release of Abdel Kader, and successfully opposed such a step.
Animated by feelings of esteem and sympathy for his fallen adversary,
Marshal Bugeaud now wrote Abdel Kader a letter suggesting a course
which, while it would diminish the bitter sense of captivity, would
assure him an easy and even enviable existence:—
“I would wish you to decide on adopting France as your country, and to
ask the Government to make you a grant of property, with right of
descent to your heirs. You would thus have a position equal to that of
our most influential men, and be able to practise your religion, and
bring up your children according to your wishes.
“I am aware such a prospect may have little in it to seduce you; but it
is one which ought to weigh with you, for the future of your children,
and the fate of the numerous persons who surround you. You see they are
languishing and dying of _ennui_. Were they employed on a property
belonging to you, their mode of life, on the contrary, would be pleasant
and agreeable. The cultivation of the soil would amuse them; they might
have the diversion of sporting. The pursuits of agriculture would daily
offer them fresh subjects of interest; and nothing tends more to cheer
the spirits than the sight of nature elaborated by man’s own exertions.
“Such is the sincere advice I give you, dictated by the feelings of
extraordinary interest which your misfortunes, and the great qualities
with which you have been endowed by God, has raised within me.”
Abdel Kader was inflexible. He steadily persisted in refusing to hear of
any compromise; and he thus replied:—“If all the treasures of the world
were laid out before me, and it was proposed to put them in the balance
with my liberty, I would choose my liberty. I demand neither grace nor
favour. I demand the execution of the engagements which have been made
with me.
“I demanded, as the condition of my surrender, the word of a Frenchman.
A French general gave it me without restriction and without conditions.
Another general, the King’s son, confirmed it. France was thus bound to
me as I to her. To desire to obliterate the past is now to desire an
impossibility. I will not give you back your word. I will die with it to
your eternal disgrace and dishonour; kings and people will then learn,
from my example, what confidence is to be placed in the word of a
Frenchman.”
The question of Abdel Kader’s liberation was now to all appearance
postponed indefinitely. He himself ceased to allude to it. He found
consolation in his books, his studies, and devotions. His hours were so
strictly appropriated to their respective duties, that time passed
lightly. He now occupied himself with literary composition.
Two works, one on the “Unity of the Godhead,” another entitled “Hints
for the Wise, Instruction for the Ignorant,” were the fruits of his
mental labours. The first-mentioned work is a collation and, at the same
time, an able exposition of all the arguments which support and
elucidate that vital doctrine of the Mohammedan faith. The latter is
divided into three parts. The first part treats of the advantages of
learning; the second, of religion and morality; the third, of the art of
writing and general science.
Although Abdel Kader had permission to take exercise in the park which
surrounded his prison, he never availed himself of the privilege.
Indeed, he rarely left his apartment, except to repair to the room where
his family and suite assembled for prayer. His medical man urged the
necessity of out-door exercise. “No health,” he replied, “can come to me
within the bounds of a prison. What I want is the air of liberty; that
alone can revive me.”
Time creeped on. At last came a change as joyful as it was unexpected.
Louis Napoleon, disgusted with the party jealousies which thwarted his
measures, had appealed to the national sentiment. He showed himself to
France. He visited the provinces. On arriving at Blois, he sent word to
M. Boissonet, who commanded in the Château of Amboise, situated not far
distant from that town, that it was his intention to pay Abdel Kader a
visit.
The ultimate design of the Prince President in making this visit had
been surmised by the general officers and ministers of state who were
around him. St. Arnaud and others tendered him their counsels, and
suggested caution. But the Prince was resolute. The necessity of
vindicating the national honour, too long tarnished by breach of faith,
prevailed in his mind over every other consideration. On the 16th of
October, 1852, the Prince and his suite drove in carriage to the Château
of Amboise.
On the way he had written out in pencil the following document:—
“ABDEL KADER,
“I am come to announce to you your liberty. You will be conducted to
Broussa, in the Sultan’s territory, as soon as the necessary
arrangements can be made. The French Government will give you a
pension worthy of your former rank.
“For a long time your captivity has caused me real distress. It
constantly reminded me that the Government which preceded mine had not
fulfilled its engagements towards an unfortunate enemy; and in my eyes a
great nation is humiliated, when it so far mistrusts its own power as to
break its promise. Generosity is always the best counsellor; and I am
convinced that your residence in Turkey will in nowise affect the
tranquillity of my possessions in Africa.
“Your religion, as well as mine, inculcates submission to the decree of
Providence. Now, if France is supreme in Algeria, it is because God has
so willed it; and the nation will never renounce the conquest. You have
been the enemy of France, but I nevertheless am ready to do ample
justice to your courage, your character, and your resignation in
misfortune. I, consequently, feel it to be a point of honour to put an
end to your imprisonment, and to entertain a complete reliance on your
word.”
Overpowered with gratitude, Abdel Kader poured forth his heartfelt
thanks. His aged mother begged to be allowed to see the generous and
noble-minded ruler, who had shed such joy and consolation through her
household; and on being presented to Louis Napoleon, covered him with
her benedictions. After hastily partaking of the “couscoussu,” the
national dish of Algeria, the Prince departed. As he disappeared in the
distance, Abdel Kader turned to his followers and said, “Others have
overthrown and imprisoned me, but Louis Napoleon alone has conquered
me.”
Abdel Kader was now desirous of doing homage to his deliverer in the
capital. He obtained permission to go to Paris, and arrived there
October 28th, 1852. A worthy reception had been arranged for him by
order of the Prince. A popular demonstration awaited him. Crowds
thronged the streets through which he passed, and gazed at him with
mingled pride and curiosity. The feelings of a warlike people were
gratified by his presence; but respect for the great military renown of
the Arab chief was the prevailing motive.
The very evening of his arrival, Abdel Kader was invited to visit the
Grand Opera. He excused himself at first on account of fatigue; but,
being told that the Prince was to be there, he consented to go. He was
conducted to the box in which the Prince sat. Abdel Kader stooped to
kiss hands, but the Prince, amidst loud applause, embraced him. Then,
placing the ancient enemy of France by his side, he showed him the most
marked attention.
An invitation was now given to Abdel Kader to visit the Prince President
at the palace of St. Cloud; and thither, accordingly, he went on the
30th October, accompanied by his equerry Kara Mohammed, Ben Allal,
nephew of his celebrated Khalifa Sidi Embarak, Sidi Kudoor, and a staff
of French officers especially deputed to escort him. He arrived a few
minutes before the time appointed for his audience. There was a clock in
the waiting room, which he was told indicated the exact time of day at
Mecca. Delighted with the incident, he set his own watch by the time of
the Holy City of his faith. He found it was exactly the hour for
afternoon prayer; and in the presence of all assembled he knelt down and
prayed.
Shortly afterwards he was presented to the Prince President, who stood
surrounded by his great officers of state. The ceremony over, Abdel
Kader asked permission to say a few words. Leave having been granted, he
thus expressed himself, not without considerable emotion.
“Highness, I am not accustomed to your usages. Perhaps I am about to
commit a fault; but I wish to express my sentiments to you, and the
exalted personages I see around me. Others have made promises which they
have not fulfilled. Your Highness has fulfilled engagements which you
had not contracted. Thanks to your generosity, I shall be enabled to go
and live in a Mussulman country. Words vanish like the winds. Writing is
durable. I offer your Highness this paper. It contains a written
promise.”
He then placed the following declaration in the Prince’s hands:—
“Praise be to the One God!
“May God ever continue to protect and preserve our lord, Louis Napoleon,
and guide and direct his judgment.
“He who presents himself to you is Abdel Kader, the son of Mehi-ed-deen.
I come before your Highness to thank you for your bounties, and to
gratify myself with a sight of your countenance. You are, in fact,
dearer to me than any other friend, for you have conferred on me a
benefit which exceeds my power of thanking you, but which is worthy of
the nobleness of your character, and the splendour of your position. May
God glorify you.
“You are of the number of those who neither make useless protestations,
nor deceive by falsehood. You have had confidence in me. You have not
listened to those who mistrust me. You have given me liberty; and,
without having made me any promises, you have fulfilled engagements
which others made with me without fulfilling them.
“I come then to swear to you, by the covenant and promises of God, and
by the promises of all the prophets and messengers, that I will never do
anything contrary to the trust you have reposed in me, and that I will
religiously keep this my oath never to return to Algeria. When God
ordered me to arise, I arose. I employed gunpowder to the utmost extent
of my means and ability. But when he ordered me to cease, I ceased. It
was then that I abandoned power and surrendered.
“My religion and my honour alike ordain me to keep my oaths and to scorn
deceit. I am a _shereef_, and no one shall ever accuse me of treachery.
How, indeed, could that be possible to me after having received such
great benefits at your hands? A benefit is a golden chain thrown over
the neck of the noble-minded. I venture to hope that you will deign to
think of me even when I am far away, and that you will place me on the
list of your intimate friends; for although I may not equal them in
their services, I at least equal them in their affection towards you.
May God increase the love of those who love you, and strike terror into
the hearts of your enemies.”
To this solemn protestation Louis Napoleon replied,—
“Abdel Kader, I never mistrusted you. I had no need of this written
paper which you so nobly offer me. I never demanded from you, as you
know, either promise or oath. You have chosen, nevertheless, to draw up
and deliver into my hands this document. I accept it. This spontaneous
avowal of your sentiments and feelings proves to me that I was right in
placing unlimited confidence in you.”
When the audience was over, Abdel Kader was shown all the apartments of
the palace, and then taken to see the Prince’s stud. He particularly
admired a magnificent white Arab horse. “The horse is yours,” said the
Prince, who was present. “I hope it will make you forget that you have
been so long without one. You must try it with me in the park to-morrow,
at a review of cavalry, which I have ordered expressly in your honour.”
Abdel Kader mounted his new steed the following day, and rode by the
side of the Prince to the review. To a courteous inquiry from the latter
as to the health of his aged mother, Abdel Kader replied with animation,
“During my captivity my mother required a staff to bear the weight of
her body, bent down with years; but since I am free, by your Highness’s
generosity, she has thrown off the weight of years and walks without
support.”
Abdel Kader was present at another grand review at Versailles. He dined
with the Prince twice. All the ministers gave him grand entertainments,
and he daily received visits from statesmen, generals, and men of
science. He was mostly touched, however, by the visits of several
officers who had formerly been his prisoners, and who had come to thank
him for the kindness and attention they had received at his hands during
their captivity.
Abdel Kader afterwards visited all the public edifices of Paris. On
entering the church of the Madeleine, he said to the priest who
accompanied him, “When I first began my struggle with the French I
thought they were a people without religion. I found out my mistake. At
all events, such churches as these would soon convince me of my error.”
He then asked to be taken to the residence of his old friend M. Dupuch,
Bishop of Algiers. “Having consecrated my first visit to God,” he said,
“the next should be to the best of his servants.”
Going through the Notre Dame, he stopped to examine all the marvels of
art and relics which it contains, with an attention which, as coming
from a Mussulman, surprised the bystanders. Its sculptures, its
paintings, the mantle worn by Napoleon I. at his coronation, and the
piece of the true cross given by Baldwin to Louis XII., all successively
engaged his attention.
On arriving at the Hôtel des Invalides, the first request of Abdel Kader
was, as usual, to be taken to the church. The temple where the Deity was
worshipped was invariably the first place to which he directed his
steps. He viewed with a soldier’s interest and satisfaction the numerous
flags with which it was adorned. Amongst them were some of his own
standards. When his eye fell on them he gazed on them for a while in
silence, and then quietly observed, “Those times are past. I wish to
forget them. Let us always endeavour to live in the present.”
At the tomb of Napoleon he again paused long. At length he spoke: “All
that the genius of man and the wealth of the world could possibly do,”
he said, “would be merely to give this tomb a pale reflex of that
greatness which filled the world with its glory.” As he turned away he
remarked, “I have now seen what was mortal of the great captain; but
where is the place where his name is not still living?”
The hospital particularly struck him. The patients stood up as he passed
by. One old soldier had even risen with pain and difficulty from his
bed, as a mark of respect to the great warrior. Abdel Kader stopped
before him, shook him by the hands, and made him the following
address:—“How worthy it is of a great people thus to watch over the old
age of its brave defenders, and to employ the best medical advice for
the cure of wounds received in the country’s defence! I have seen the
tomb of Napoleon, and touched his sword; and I should leave this place
completely happy were it not for the thought that there may be some here
who have been disabled by me or mine. But I only defended my country;
and the French, who are just and generous, will pardon me, and perhaps
admit that I was an open and honest enemy, one not altogether unworthy
of them.”
The Museum of Artillery and the imperial printing establishment were the
next objects of his inspection. The autographic press produced under his
very eyes, to his intense astonishment, a facsimile of the document he
had presented to the Prince. After minutely watching the process of
printing, and the marvellous rapidity with which impressions were thrown
off, he exclaimed, “Yesterday I saw the batteries of war—here I see the
batteries of thought.”
Abdel Kader had now a parting interview with Louis Napoleon. The Prince
announced his intention of presenting him with a sword of honour. “But,”
he added, “I wish it to be worthy of you; and I regret that,
notwithstanding the diligence of the workmen, I shall not be able to
give it you before your departure for Broussa.” The blade of this sword,
which Abdel Kader afterwards received, is of the time of the Abassiades,
who flourished at the commencement of the Mohammedan era. On it have
been inscribed the words—“The Sultan Napoleon III. to the Emir Abdel
Kader, son of Mehi-ed-deen.” The next day Abdel Kader returned to
Amboise.
On the 21st of November the French people were called upon to elect an
emperor. Abdel Kader claimed the right of suffrage. By a singular
coincidence, the day was the anniversary of that on which, twenty years
before, he had himself been elected Sultan of the Arabs. His claim was
admitted, and a ballot-box was made expressly for the occasion. In this
box he deposited his own vote and those of twelve of his suite.
Abdel Kader returned to Paris to be present at the proclamation of the
empire. He stood amidst the great officers of state and public
functionaries who assembled at the Tuileries to offer the Emperor their
congratulations. As soon as the latter perceived him he went up to him,
shook him by the hands, and said, “You see your vote has brought me good
luck.” “Sire,” replied Abdel Kader, “my vote is of no value but as it is
the interpreter of my heart.”
On the 11th of December, Abdel Kader, with his family and suite, left
Amboise for the East. The same attention and hospitality which had been
shown to him in Paris awaited him in all the provincial towns through
which he passed. At Lyons, the Comte de Castellane gave him a splendid
reception. A banquet was offered to him, and a review of the garrison
held in his honour. When Abdel Kader approached the lines he was saluted
with military honours. Delighted with this unexpected mark of respect,
he turned to the noble marshal who rode by his side, and exclaimed, “The
Emperor gave me liberty, but you have adorned her with garlands.”
On the 21st of December, Abdel Kader embarked on board the _Labrador_
for his final destination. The steamer touched at Sicily. He landed,
and, attended by the governor, made a tour in the interior. He ascended
Etna. At his departure he addressed a letter of thanks to that officer,
in which he thus records his impressions of what he had seen:—“We have
everywhere met with the traces of the various populations who have
inhabited your island. The sight made us reflect that God is indeed the
Lord of the universe, and that He gives the land to whom He wills. The
mountain of fire is truly one of the wonders of the world. On viewing
from its heights the highly cultivated and thickly populated plains
which spread out before us, we thought of the Arab poet’s lament on the
evacuation of Sicily by the Saracens, ‘The recollection of you, O plains
of Sicily, from the heights of Etna, makes my despair! If my tears were
not salt, they should make rivers of water for this glorious island. An
inhabitant of Paradise only is fit to recount the wonders of Sicily.’”
Abdel Kader arrived at Constantinople, January 7, 1853. On landing he
went directly to the grand mosque of Tophané, filled with joy and
gratitude at finding himself once more in a temple of the Prophet. The
French ambassador gave a grand entertainment in his honour, to which the
principal personages of the Frank society were invited. This act of
hospitality closed the social relations of Abdel Kader with the
civilised world. During his passage through it, his worth, his genius,
his honour, had been magnanimously recognised in one long ovation. He
was now in a capital where barbarism is harlequinised into a constrained
semblance of European civilisation.
He visited the Turkish ministers. They received him with ill-feigned
demonstrations of civility and respect. Policy alone made them outwardly
courteous. Such is the eradicable arrogance and self-sufficiency of the
Turks, that they despise all races alike but their own. Utter strangers
to noble sentiments, and scorning to admit the possibility of there
being anything in the world more important than themselves, they
regarded the attentions paid to Abdel Kader (despite his glorious
struggles for their common faith) with jealousy and even derision. His
fame oppressed them. An Arab hero was, in their minds, an incongruity,
an impertinence.
CHAPTER XXIII.
1853-1860.
Abdel Kader at length sailed from Constantinople for Broussa. The Pasha
in that town had been ordered by the Turkish Government to place a
carriage at his disposal, on landing. “What!” said the Turk, “an Arab
ride in a carriage! Who ever heard of such a thing? Surely there are
plenty of camels to be had. Why does not the man hire a camel? Is not a
camel good enough for him?” The Turk was spared the indignity of
supplying the Arab with a carriage, on account of the simple fact, that
it was impossible to traverse the road from the landing-place to Broussa
in any vehicle whatever; and of this fact, the Sublime Porte, at a
distance of scarcely twenty miles, was profoundly ignorant.
Fortunately for Abdel Kader, though thrown amongst the Turks, he was in
no way obliged to be dependent on them. The munificence of Louis
Napoleon had largely provided for his wants. The Emperor had settled on
him a pension for life of £4,000 a year. With Abdel Kader’s habits, this
income was more than a competence, it was superfluity. With such wealth
he might have lived in princely state, and indulged in ostentation. But
he was regulated by other principles.
At all times averse to self-gratification, Abdel Kader looked upon this
liberal allowance as a trust; and he considered that after deducting
what was absolutely necessary for his own expenses, he was bound to
expend the remainder for the benefit of others. His income now enabled
him to provide for the wants of many who had nobly refused to separate
themselves from his fortunes, and even to extend his generosity to other
quarters. Reserving barely a half for himself and family, he disbursed
the residue in salaries to his most needy chiefs and dependents; in
charities to the poor, presents to the mosques, and other benevolent
purposes. It is to be remarked that out of his income he had also to
support his two brothers and their families.
So averse, indeed, was Abdel Kader to vain and trifling expenditure of
every sort, that the outlay generally devoted by his co-religionists to
rejoicings and festivities, at one of their most important religious
rites, was by him directed to charitable ends. On the occasion of the
circumcision of one of his sons, the people of Broussa were surprised to
see, in place of the usual costly procession, with all its concomitants
of pomp and show—the cavalcade, the flags and the music—a vast
assemblage of the poor congregated in front of his dwelling, and
receiving from his own hands presents of bread, and clothing, and money.
Such was, in the eyes of Abdel Kader, the best commemoration of the
sacred rite.
The building which the Turkish Government had allotted for his residence
was an old dilapidated khan, in many parts without a roof. With some
difficulty he contrived to make it habitable. The wildness and gloom of
the old ruin were terrible. But he bought a small farm in the
neighbourhood, to which he escaped at times to regale himself with a
sight of the sun and to breathe the fresh air.
His days were passed, as usual, in the education of his children, in
readings at the mosque, and in private study and meditation. Still he
felt himself in a land of strangers. Few understood his language.
Between the Turks and himself there was no possible sympathy, and there
never could be. The Ulemas amongst them envied and disliked him for his
superior learning. The Effendis, in their supercilious pride, scarcely
vouchsafed to notice him. The public functionaries, gradually recovering
from their dread of his widely-spread influence, smiled with inward
repose and satisfaction, not unmingled with contempt, as they
congratulated each other on the discovery that the great Arab hero was
after all only a “derweesh.”
Thus time wore on with him for nearly three years. He secretly longed
for a change in his place of exile; but he was diffident in asking for
it. At last, the appalling earthquake which, in 1855, nearly laid all
Broussa in ruins, afforded him a plea for opening the subject, and he
hastened to avail himself of the circumstance. He obtained permission to
go to France. He once more saw the Emperor, who graciously acceded to
all his wishes. It was arranged that for the future his residence should
be at Damascus.
Whilst Abdel Kader was in Paris, the news of the fall of Sebastopol
arrived. He was asked to assist at the celebration of the _Te Deum_ in
Notre Dame; and he was told that the Emperor would be flattered by his
presence on the occasion.
Though prostrated by a recent severe illness, he consented to go. No
small sensation was created amongst the vast throng which filled the
cathedral, as Abdel Kader advanced up to the altar, leaning on the arm
of a French marshal, and accompanied by other officers of rank. On
leaving it he was loudly cheered.
The principal aide-de-camp of the Minister of War conducted him over the
International Exhibition, which on the year of this visit made Paris the
rendezvous of all the civilised world. After viewing all the varied
productions which it contained, he paused for a long time in perfect
astonishment at the marvellous elaborations of machinery which expanded
in various compartments before his eyes. Then he suddenly exclaimed,
“Surely this is the temple of reason and intelligence, animated by the
breath of God.”
After returning to Broussa, where he remained for a few weeks to arrange
and settle his affairs, he finally embarked on board a French steamer,
with his family and suite, amounting in all to more than one hundred
persons, and reached Beyrout, November 24th, 1856; and from thence,
after a short stay, he proceeded to Damascus.
Midway on his ascent of the Lebanon he was surprised to hear the sound
of firing, as though a battle were raging close by. Presently he saw the
heights and slopes covered with large bodies of men, keeping up a well-
sustained roll of musketry; and then, a compact and splendidly attired
cavalcade advancing to his encounter. The Druzes had assembled to give
him a welcome.
Their chiefs, on approaching him, dismounted. He returned the
compliment. They bowed before him with oriental prostrations, and kissed
his hand. Then they begged him to do them the honour of reposing amongst
them, if only for one night. He accepted their invitation, and found
once more a hospitable Eastern home. His heart expanded. He was once
more amongst the Arabs.
Long and closely did these mountain warriors question him as to his
campaigns against the French. “If your fame,” they said, “has so long
raised our spirits and excited our admiration; if it has so long
rejoiced our hearts to hear of you, how much more must we rejoice to see
you!” On his leaving the Lebanon he was escorted by the Druzes to the
frontiers of their territory. After thanking them for their courtesy and
attention, Abdel Kader parted from them with the words, “God grant we
may ever remain one!” and the Druzes replied, “God grant it! May we soon
meet again.”
Another ovation, and on a larger scale, awaited Abdel Kader at Damascus.
The whole Mohammedan population—men, women, and children—turned out to
receive him. For more than a mile outside the gates the road was lined
on either side with all ranks and degrees of persons dressed in holiday
attire, who had come forth to feast their eyes by gazing on the renowned
champion and hero of Islam. Preceded by a detachment of Turkish troops
and a band of military music, Abdel Kader passed, almost like a
conqueror, through the crowd, joyfully returning the unintermittent
salaams with which he was greeted. No such Arab had entered Damascus
since the days of Saladin.
The Sultan had ordered a serail to be placed at the disposal of Abdel
Kader. Luckily for him, the khans were all already fully occupied. He
only took up his residence in the abode prepared for him temporarily,
and until he could select and purchase a house for himself. The Turkish
authorities paid no further attention to him. It was quite enough for
them that they had to endure him. They could not lower his rank and
position, for an arm was outstretched over him stronger than theirs;
they could not undermine his influence, for his was an ascendancy that
defied their malice; they looked upon him as a painful and unavoidable
anomaly, and succumbed.
Visits and salutations of various kinds soon multiplied upon him. Ben
Salem, his old and devoted Khalifa, and some hundreds of Algerines, who
had already obtained permission to settle at Damascus, and who proudly
swelled his suite as he entered the city, now thronged around him day
and night, never sufficiently satisfied with the sight of their adored
Sultan, from whom they had been so long separated. The great Arab
Effendis offered him the most ardent demonstrations of respect.
But it was to the Ulemas and the lettered classes that Abdel Kader
became the great centre of attraction. By virtue of his triple warrant,
as descendant of the Prophet, Ulema, and leader of the Djehad, he was
entitled to their profoundest reverence. They felt themselves bound to
him not only by feelings of national sympathy, but of religious duty.
Their experience of his superior learning, quickly obtained, made them
anxious to profit by his instructions. They begged him to become their
teacher. A theological class, consisting of upwards of sixty students,
was formed. It held its daily sittings in the great mosque, and Abdel
Kader presided over it with scrupulous punctuality. The Koran and the
Hadeeth naturally formed the great staple of discussion; but unlike the
ordinary teachers, whose utmost stretch of mental power only extended to
worn-out remarks and commentaries on the sacred books, Abdel Kader
astonished and delighted his disciples by choice quotations from the
works of Plato and Aristotle, and occasionally even from authors of less
repute, selected from his own library, which he had been carefully re-
forming during his residence at Broussa.
The light which thus shed its rays over the literary world of the
Mohammedans of Damascus, was of course accompanied by its attendant
shadow of envy and detraction, fostered by offended vanities and
obscured reputations. Such, on the whole, was the social position of
Abdel Kader in Damascus, when events unexpectedly occurred to disturb
for a moment the tranquil tenor of his life.
The Peace of Paris, concluded in 1856, filled the Turks with mingled
sensations of exultation and mistrust: of exultation, because the peace
had rescued them from an impending doom, and renewed their lease of
political existence; of mistrust, because the deed of deliverance was
saddled with a decree of death. Such a doom, it is true, depended on the
realization of a theory; but that theory was, to them, of ominous
importance. By eliciting from them the Hati Homayoom of 1856, the
Christian Powers simply made the Turks put the knife to their own
throats.
If that famous “Magna Charta for the Christians of the East,” as it has
been ridiculously styled by those who know nothing at all about the
politics of the East, was to be strictly carried into execution, the
relative position of Turks and Christians, as a body, throughout the
Turkish empire, would in due course of time be completely reversed. The
Turks have as yet escaped the stern necessity of giving themselves the
fatal gash; and their kind and forbearing allies have for the moment
refrained from pressing the completion of the sacrifice. Nevertheless,
it behoves the Christian Powers, seriously and conscientiously, to
reflect that, on the execution or non-execution of the Hati Homayoom,
depends the gradual enfranchisement, or the continued bondage and
degradation of Christianity, under Turkish rule.
When the Christian Powers signed a document giving the Turks an
indefinite tenure of political existence, they virtually ratified the
bond by which the latter have consigned some of the fairest provinces of
the earth to irremediable depopulation, barrenness, and sterility. When
they contented themselves with receiving in exchange an impossible
programme of amalgamation, progress, and refinement, they not only
stultified themselves, but betrayed the vital interests of humanity and
civilisation.
If England, passively consenting to be bound down by traditions which
took their rise in an age when the East, with all its glorious
destinies, was universally ignored, chooses still to regard the
maintenance of the Turkish empire as indispensable to the balance of
power in Europe—as though, in the event of its abruption or collapse,
national adjustments would become impossibilities, political
arrangements fictions, and diplomatic treaties myths—if, with suicidal
arm, she still persists in helping to lock up those rich, fertile, and
widely extended regions, which, if that empire were to pass under
Christian sway, would rapidly be opened up to her commercial enterprise,
and would increase the demands upon her arts and manufactures ten,
fifty, and a hundred fold; then let her, by all means, go on worshipping
her “log of wood,” and lavish in its support her money, her arms, and
her men, thereby wasting and crippling her actual and prospective
resources.
But if, awakened at length to a due sense of her dignity and of her best
interests, to say nothing of her responsibilities to a Higher Power,
England should resolve to abandon the fruitless and thankless task of
attempting to mould, tutor, and reform a government which by its very
nature must ever be a stumbling-block and an offence in the path of
Eastern advancement—which is the fanatical and persecuting enemy of her
faith, which laughs at her credulity, practises on her forbearance, and
is a permanent obstruction to the full development of her wealth and
greatness—then her policy will lie in a nut-shell. Let her leave the
Turks to fight their own battles. Howsoever, wheresoever, and by
whomsoever attacked, let her stand by an undisturbed spectator. Let her
quietly see the game commenced. She will always be in time to cut in and
play her own cards.
The Christians of Syria have ever been viewed by the Turks with gloomy
jealousy. They are called “the Key to the Franks.” The Turks imagine
them to be ever ready to welcome and aid a Frank invading force;
furnishing it with supplies, and in various ways initiating it into the
land’s capabilities and resources. Their increasing population, wealth,
and prosperity, are to the Turks a perpetual source of exasperation,
exciting in their breasts feelings of hatred and broodings of revenge.
These Christians had deluded themselves into the idea that the Hati
Homayoom was to become a reality. They gloried in the prospects of
civil, military, and political equality with their Mohammedan fellow-
subjects which it held out to them. They craved to be permitted to enter
the service of the State, and offered to serve in the army. They were
told their services were not wanted. At the same time the information
was vouchsafed to them that they were to be subjected to a yearly fine
of ten shillings per head, in lieu of military service.
“What!”—they argued amongst themselves—“is this all that our friends and
protectors, the great Christian Powers, have been able to procure from
the Turks by the promulgation of the Hati Homayoom? Could they do no
more than achieve mockery and derision for themselves, and for us an
additional mark of inferiority and humiliation?” They could not believe
it. The mistake, they were sure, would be rectified. They protested, and
refused to pay the tax.
The Christians of the Lebanon soon after observed, with just alarm, the
menacing attitude displayed towards them by the Druzes. They knew at
once that the Turks were going to play their old game of letting loose
these tribes against them. What had they to do? They armed themselves to
the teeth; and they were right. The Turco-Druze compact was already
completed. Such was the aspect of affairs between the Turks and the
Rayahs in Syria in 1859.
The Turkish authorities in that province had duly reported the
refractory conduct of the Christians, and the general tone of assumption
evinced by them, to their superiors in Constantinople. In the
instructions they received, they were emphatically told that the
Christians must be “corrected.” The expression seems trivial, but those
to whom it was addressed perfectly well understood its cabalistic
meaning.
As a Turkish sultan was once entering his kiosk, a handsome, comely-
looking youth, the son of one of his viziers, attracted his notice. He
approached him, patted him on the cheek, and stroked his chin. The lad,
well knowing the feelings which prompted such a mark of attention,
turned away from the caress with offensive abruptness. The Sultan looked
towards the father, and sternly said, “Your son must be corrected.” That
same day the lad’s head was cut off. He had been “corrected.” In Eastern
phraseology this is called “imperial correction.”
In May, 1860, the civil war between the Druzes and Christians, so
sedulously fostered and excited by the Turks, broke out. In little more
than a month the Lebanon became a vast scene of slaughter and
conflagration. In an evil hour the Christians, despite their better
convictions, had allowed themselves to be deceived by the solemn
protestations of Turkish pashas and colonels, who called upon God to
witness that they were about to act as mediators.
They repaired by hundreds to the different Turkish garrisons planted
over the mountain, hourly expecting the signal for peace. There, after
having been politely requested to give up their arms, as a mark of
confidence, they were crammed into open courts, or penned up in small
chambers, according to the nature of the locality, and assured they were
in perfect safety. And then, after a time, the Druzes and the Turkish
troops fell on them, and massacred them all. They had been “corrected.”
The Christians of Damascus were the next to be “corrected.” Abdel Kader,
entirely ignorant of the great Turco-Druze plot, had sent messages to
some of his friends among the Druze Sheiks, at the commencement of the
civil war in the Lebanon, calling upon them to exercise forbearance and
moderation. He soon had occasion to turn his attention to events nearer
home. Rumours were daily becoming more and more rife that the
Mohammedans of the Pashalick of Damascus intended to rise on the
Christians.
Abdel Kader was at first incredulous. But his Algerines came round him
day by day, repeating to him the fearful gossip of the town. Many of
them, who had been tampered with, were asked to join in the scheme. He
now went to the Ulemas, and begged them to use their influence with the
people to allay the feeling, and avert such a frightful catastrophe. He
wrote urgent letters in the same sense to the Ulemas of Homs and Hamah.
Having received information that some straggling parties of the Druzes
were extending their ravages towards Damascus, he hastened to send the
following collective letter to all their leading Sheiks:—
“TO THE DRUZE SHEIKS IN MOUNT LEBANON, AND IN THE PLAINS AND MOUNTAINS
OF THE HOURAN.
“We continually invoke for you eternal happiness, and continuation of
prosperity.
“You are aware of our friendship for you, and our goodwill towards all
the servants of God. Hearken to what we say to you, and accept and be
advised by our admonition. The Turkish Government, and all men, know
your old enmity towards the Christians of Mount Lebanon, and you may
imagine that the Government will not hold you wholly responsible for the
war which is now raging between you and them. The Government may accept
your excuses.
“But if you make offensive movements against a place with the
inhabitants of which you have never before been at enmity, we fear such
conduct would be the cause of a serious rupture between you and the
Government. You know how anxious we are for your welfare and happiness,
and that of all your countrymen at large. The wise, before taking a
step, calculate the consequences.
“Some of your horsemen have already been pillaging in the environs of
Damascus. Such proceedings are unworthy of a community distinguished for
its good sense and wise policy. We repeat it, we are most anxious for
your welfare, and are hurt at whatever reflects on your name.
“ABDEL KADER IBN MEHI-ED-DEEN.
“_May_, 1860.”
Abdel Kader next proceeded to Achmet Pasha, the Governor, and stated his
apprehensions. The Pasha told him that there was no occasion to be
alarmed, and that all reports were mere idle rumours. A second and third
time he went to the Governor and renewed his representations, but with
little or no effect. At last the Pasha allowed a few arms to be
distributed amongst Abdel Kader’s followers, but without instructions
under what circumstances they were to be used.
On the 9th of July, in the forenoon, Abdel Kader’s Algerines came
running in, in breathless haste, and told him the town had risen.
Without a moment’s delay he sallied forth, ordering his attendants to
follow him. After a few turnings he met a furious mob in full career
towards the Christian quarter. He drew up with his men in the centre of
the street. The mob stopped short. A pause ensued. Abdel Kader harangued
the rioters, expostulated with them, and endeavoured to convince them of
the awfulness of the crime which they were about to commit. He implored
them to desist and return.
“What!” they shouted, “you, the great slayer of Christians, are you come
out to prevent us from slaying them in our turn? Away!”
“If I slew Christians,” he shouted in reply, “it was in accordance with
our law—Christians who had declared war against me, and were arrayed in
arms against our faith.”
“Away, away!” retorted the mobs, and the rioters rushed by. Within three
hours the Christian quarter was a waving sheet of fire. The hot blast,
fraught with the moans of the tortured and the shrieks of the defiled,
rolled over the city like a gust from hell.
The Pasha had some days before made a pretence of affording protection
to the Christians by stationing Turkish troops in their quarter. He now
sent his soldiers orders to withdraw. They piled arms and plundered. But
Abdel Kader hurried to the rescue. Altogether about 1,000 of his
Algerines had by this time gathered round him. He patrolled the flaming
streets. His men went from house to house, entering and crying out,
“Christians, come forth! Do not fear us—we are Abdel Kader’s men, and
are here to save you! Come forth, come forth!”
At first, no voices responded. The unfortunate victims dreaded fresh
treachery. By degrees, however, after repeated and earnest assurances,
they gained confidence. Men, women, and children issued forth trembling
and crawling from their hiding-places. They emerged from wells, from
sinks, from gutters. As fast as they could be collected together, they
were hurried off to Abdel Kader’s abode, enclosed in long oblong
squares, formed by the Algerines to protect them on the way from insult
and attack.
Abdel Kader, who had more than once narrowly escaped suffocation, now
returned to his house. He found it filled to overflowing. He induced his
immediate neighbours to vacate their abodes in order to give shelter to
the unhappy fugitives. But the tide kept pouring in, and still more
space was wanted. As a last resource, he proposed to the Christians to
send them for protection to the Turkish castle. But at this proposition
a wild cry arose from all. The poor creatures fell on their knees, and
with frantic gestures and agonising accents exclaimed, “O Abdel Kader,
for God’s sake do not send us to the Turks! By your mother! by your
wife! by your children! O Abdel Kader, save us from the Turks!”
Abdel Kader endeavoured to reassure the supplicants and allay their
fears. He pledged himself for their safety, and offered to accompany
them to the citadel himself. Not a hair of their heads should be
touched, he said, while he was alive. With sad misgivings and sinking
hearts, the Christians at length consented to go. Abdel Kader headed the
sad procession in person. His Algerines marched on its flanks and in its
rear. It moved on rapidly. An unwonted gloom pervaded the great city.
The bazaars were all deserted, and reverberated to the escort’s tramp in
sad funereal echoes. The castle, which lay nearly a mile off, was
reached a little before sunset, and Abdel Kader gave over his charge.
The Turks looked at him askance.
For several days his Algerines were constantly engaged in escorting
fugitive Christians, in batches of twenty, fifty, and a hundred, to the
same destination. As they were being hurried along, all exclaimed alike,
“Do not leave us to the mercy of the Turks! Come back to us! Stay with
us! The Turks will yet murder us!” Nor indeed were their fears
unfounded.
On the third day, when the large quadrangle within the castle was
crowded with the Christians, to the amount of some thousands, of all
ranks, ages, and sexes, the Turks coolly divided the males from the
females into two large bodies. The one was intended for massacre; the
other was reserved for violation. They only awaited the arrival of the
Druzes, whom they were hourly and anxiously expecting, to co-operate
with them in the fiendish work.
But here, also, Abdel Kader had marred and circumvented their diabolical
designs. He had heard of the approach of the Druzes. He had ridden out
to meet them. He had fallen in with them at the village of Ashrafeeiy,
in the outskirts of the city. There he had parleyed with their Sheiks,
had reasoned with them, and by his personal influence, and his eloquent
and persuasive arguments, had succeeded in turning them aside from their
bloody errand.
For ten days he continued engaged in his arduous task. Once the mob
approached his house, and demanded with frantic yells that the
Christians within it should be delivered up to them. He drew his sword,
and, accompanied by a strong body of his followers, at once went out to
confront the yelling crowd. “Wretches!” he exclaimed, “is this the way
you honour the Prophet? May his curse be upon you! Shame on you, shame!
You will yet live to repent. You think you may do as you like with the
Christians; but the day of retribution will come. The Franks will yet
turn your mosques into churches. Not a Christian will I give up. They
are my brothers. Stand back, or I give my men the order to fire.” The
mob withdrew.
When he returned to his post it was to keep anxious watch by day, and
sleepless vigil by night. He had a rug spread at his entrance door, and
on this hard bed he snatched intervals of troubled rest. He never once
retired. He felt that his personal presence was absolutely indispensable
for the safety of all. The stream of fugitives was incessant. Every
moment Abdel Kader was called up to give orders to form escorts, or to
issue provisions to the thousands congregated under his roof.
The European Consuls, leaving their burning consulates behind them, had
fled to him with their families on the first day. The British Consul
alone, living in the Mohammedan quarter, had thought himself secure.
But, as an additional security, he had sent to the Pasha, and requested
that Turkish troops might be stationed at his house. A detachment of
soldiers was accordingly dispatched for his protection.
Shortly after their arrival one of his cawasses came and told him to
beware. He had overheard the conversation of the Turkish soldiers. They
were talking of breaking into the consulate, and murdering every one
within their reach. After a slight deliberation, it was decided that
Abdel Kader was the only resource now left. To Abdel Kader, accordingly,
a messenger was instantly sent, craving immediate assistance. To the
surprise and astonishment of the Turkish soldiers, seventeen Algerines
suddenly appeared, and seemed to supersede them in their functions. The
Turks were overawed. Their bloody plot was frustrated; and the safety of
the British Consul was secured. The interposition had been indeed both
timely and providential. In a few minutes more the Consul with his staff
and household would have been _massacred by their Turkish guard!_
Though the great mass of the Christians had been forwarded to the
castle, the Consuls and many of the wealthier classes remained partakers
of Abdel Kader’s hospitality for more than a month. By degrees, however,
this assemblage broke up, moving off in successive parties, always
escorted by Algerines, to Beyrout.
Abdel Kader was at length enabled to repose. He had rescued 15,000 souls
belonging to the Eastern churches from death, and worse than death, by
his fearless courage, his unwearied activity, and his catholic-minded
zeal. All the representatives of the Christian powers then residing in
Damascus, without one single exception, had owed their lives to him.
Strange and unparalleled destiny! An Arab had thrown his guardian ægis
over the outraged majesty of Europe. A descendant of the Prophet had
sheltered and protected the Spouse of Christ.
CHAPTER XXIV.
1860-1864.
The Turkish authorities at Damascus, acting under the orders of Fuad
Pasha, marked their sense of Abdel Kader’s humane intervention in behalf
of the Christians, by sending him an order that his Algerines should
deliver up their arms. Abdel Kader resented the order as an insult, and
protested. “Never,” was his reply to this injunction, “will I submit to
such an order, until Fuad Pasha has formally declared that I and my men
have made a bad use of our weapons. In that case I will leave him to
vindicate his conduct as best he can, with the European powers who have
applauded my course of action.”
Being powerfully supported from an influential quarter, Abdel Kader
succeeded in averting the indignity which the Turks had deliberately and
maliciously meditated against him. The spirit which had dictated Fuad
Pasha, and the Turkish authorities in general, then became apparent. A
general disarmament of the inhabitants of Damascus had been commenced,
and about six hundred muskets had already been collected, when the
above-mentioned order was sent to Abdel Kader. When they failed to
obtain the arms of Abdel Kader and his suite, the Turks at once
discontinued the general disarmament. The measure had evidently only
been a pretext for the infliction of a humiliation on the defender of
the Christians.
The Christian powers covered Abdel Kader with the most distinguished
marks of their gratitude and admiration. Letters, presents, and orders
came from every side. France sent the Grand Cordon of the Legion of
Honour; Russia, the Grand Cross of the White Eagle; Prussia, the Grand
Cross of the Black Eagle; Greece, the Grand Cross of the Saviour;
Turkey, the Medjidié of the 1st class. England sent a double-barreled
gun, beautifully inlaid with gold; America, a brace of pistols similarly
inlaid. The Order of Freemasons in France sent him a magnificent star.
All these gifts and decorations were accompanied by letters of thanks.
But not only in the Christian world had the conduct of Abdel Kader, in
the midst of the hideous scenes enacted through the fell working of
Turkish fanaticism, created a deep sensation and elicited tributes of
praise and general rejoicing. In the Mohammedan world also, a profound
feeling of astonishment and abhorrence had been excited at the
vindictive daring, the blind fatuity, and the sanguinary anti-Christian
malevolence of a Mohammedan power which, while pretending to be amenable
to the higher instincts of European civilisation, could thus stimulate
to deeds of atrocity, gratuitously barbarous, and not even sanctioned or
countenanced by the most ferocious and exaggerated doctrines of the
Koran itself.
This feeling found its most eloquent exponent in the illustrious hero of
the Caucasus. Schamyl, from his place of exile in Russia, addressed the
following letter to Abdel Kader:—
“To him who has made himself celebrated amongst all classes, high and
low; who by his numerous and precious qualities stands distinguished
from the rest of men; who put out the fire of discord before it had time
to extend; who rooted up the tree of enmity, the fruit of which is, as
it were, a head of Satan. Praise be to God, that He has clothed His
servant with strength and faith! We would speak of the true and sincere
friend, Abdel Kader the just. Salutation to you! May the palm tree of
merit and honour be ever fruitful in your person!
“Be it known to you, when my ear was struck with that which is hateful
to the sense of hearing, and repulsive to human nature—I allude to the
events lately occurring in Damascus, between the Mussulmans and the
Christians, in which the former displayed a conduct unworthy of the
professors of Islamism, and which can only lead to every kind of
excess—a film spread over my soul, and my face, usually tranquil and
serene, became covered with the shade of sadness. I cried out to myself,
‘Evil is on the earth and on the sea, by reason of man’s wickedness and
perversity.’
“I was astonished at the blindness of the functionaries who have plunged
into such excesses, forgetful of the words of the Prophet, peace be upon
him:—‘_Whoever shall be unjust towards a tributary (a Christian), who
shall do him a wrong, who shall lay on him any charge beyond his means,
and finally, who shall deprive him of anything without his own consent,
it is I who will be his accuser in the day of judgment_.’ Oh, the
sublime words! But when I was informed that you had covered the
tributaries with the wings of kindness and compassion; that you had
opposed yourself to the men who do contrary to the will of the Most High
God, and that you had conquered the palm of victory in the amphitheatre
of glory—a success which you have richly merited—I praised you, as the
Most High God will praise you in that day, when fortune and children
will avail but little. Truly, you have realised the word of the great
Apostle whom the Most High God sent as a mark of pity for his creatures,
and you have opposed a barrier to those who rejected his great example.
May God preserve us from those who transgress His laws!
“Impatient to testify the admiration I feel for your conduct, I hasten
to address you this letter, as a drop out of the reservoir of my
sympathies.
“The unfortunate, who through the working of the decrees of the Great
Master, has fallen into the hands of the infidels.
“SCHAMYL, the Exile.”
To this sympathetic effusion Abdel Kader thus replied:—
“Praise be to God, the Master of worlds! May God be propitious to our
lord Mohammed and all his brother prophets and apostles.
“This comes from him who has great need of his all-abundant mercies,
Abdel Kader, son of Mehi-ed-deen, il Hassany, and is addressed to his
brother and friend in God, the glorious Schamyl. May God be favourable
to us and you, at home and abroad! May the peace and grace of God rest
ever upon you!
“We have received your honourable letter, and your charming words have
rejoiced our heart. That which you have heard about us, and which has
given you such satisfaction, respecting our defence of the tributaries
and the protection we gave them, both as regards their persons and their
goods, according to our zeal and our means—all that, as you well know,
is nothing but the fulfilment of the principles of our sacred law and of
the dictates of humanity. Indeed, our law is the confirmation of all the
best qualities, and embraces all virtues as a collar encircles the neck.
“Vice is condemned in all religions; and to allow oneself to be carried
away by it is like taking a poisonous aliment into the stomach.
Nevertheless, as the poet has said, ‘Man, in certain moments of trial,
has a bandage over his eyes, so that he calls that desirable which is
just the reverse.’ Truly it is a case to say, ‘To God we belong and to
Him we return.’ When we think how few men of real religion there are,
how small the number of defenders and champions of the truth—when one
sees ignorant persons imagining that the principle of Islamism is
hardness, severity, extravagance, and barbarity—it is time to repeat
these words, ‘Patience is lovely; in God let us trust.’
“We were informed, some time ago, that you had arrived near the Emperor
of Russia; and that this prince, treating you in a manner worthy of you,
had loaded you with civilities and covered you with honour. We were
told, moreover, that you had asked for permission to visit the holy
cities (Mecca and Medina); and we pray God that he may prosper your
demand and accomplish your wishes.
“Indeed, the Emperor of Russia is one of the most distinguished of
sovereigns. He is one of those who desire to see the record of their
exalted deeds preserved in books. We hope, therefore, that his
magnanimity will grant you your wishes without difficulty. It is thus
that the Sultan Napoleon III. has acted towards us. He has performed
things for us which could never have entered into the mind of man. After
all, it is in God alone that we must place our hope. He only has a right
to our homage.
“ABDEL KADER IBN MEHI-ED-DEEN IL HASSANY.”
The tranquil current of Abdel Kader’s life, momentarily ruffled, but
scarcely interrupted, by the terrific episode which had broken in on his
retirement, now resumed its wonted course. The simplicity, the
scrupulous regularity, the exact and unvarying conscientiousness which
guide and influence his actions, operate upon the thread of his
existence with all the harmony of fixed laws.
He rises two hours before daybreak, and is engaged in prayer and
religious meditation till sunrise, when he goes to the mosque. After
spending half an hour there in public devotions, he returns to his
house, snatches a hurried meal, and then studies in his library till
mid-day. The muezzin’s call now summons him again to the mosque, where
his class is already assembled, awaiting his arrival. He takes his seat,
opens the book fixed upon for discussion, and reads aloud, constantly
interrupted by demands for those explanations which unlock the varied
and accumulated stores of his troubled years of laborious study,
investigation, and research. The sitting lasts for three hours.
Afternoon prayer finished, Abdel Kader returns home and spends an hour
amongst his children—his eight sons—examining the progress they are
making in their studies. Then he dines. At sunset he is again in the
mosque, and instructs his class for one hour and a half. His professor’s
duties for the day are now over. A couple of hours are still on hand;
they are spent in his library. He then retires to rest.
Abdel Kader is punctual in his charities. Every Friday the street
leading to his house may be seen filled with the poor, who are gathered
together for their appointed distribution of bread. The poor who die (if
utterly without means), not merely in his own quarter, but throughout
Damascus, are buried at his expense. Every case of destitution has only
to be brought to his notice to be instantly relieved. He lays out
regularly more than £20 a month in charitable donations.
Abdel Kader had long cherished in his heart the hope and desire of being
able, sooner or later, to complete his round of religious duties by a
crowning act of devotion. In the eyes of the devout Mussulman, no
earthly rank or dignity is to be compared to that which carries with it
the glorious distinction of entitling its bearer to be called “the
Fellow of the Prophet.”
To obtain this signal privilege, it is necessary to dwell continuously
at Mecca or Medina for two years, or, at all events, to remain in the
holy cities until two successive pilgrimages (Hadj) have arrived at and
departed from those places. Abdel Kader now obtained the permission of
his friend and benefactor, the Emperor Napoleon III., to prosecute his
pious purpose. Being asked one day how he could bear to separate
himself, at his age, for so long a time from his family, he replied, “It
is true my family is dear to me, but God is dearer.”
He left Damascus in January, 1863; and, after staying a few weeks in
Cairo, embarked for Djedda, and in due time reached Mecca. There he was
received by the great body of Ulemas and Imams, who make that holy city
their constant place of residence, with the most marked respect and
consideration. The Shereef of Mecca ordered a couple of rooms, within
the precincts of the Haram, to be placed at his disposal. He was
overwhelmed by visitors. After ten days, he intimated that his period of
reception was over. He begged to be left in undisturbed privacy and
seclusion.
For the next twelve months he never quitted his hermit’s cell, except to
go to the great mosque. His whole time was given up to sacred studies,
meditation, and prayer. The fervour of his religious abstraction was
stimulated by the most rigorous self-denial. He only allowed himself
four hours’ sleep. He broke his fast but once in twenty-four hours, and
then only to eat bread and olives. The severity and long continuance of
this bodily and mental discipline told even on his iron frame. In the
spring of 1864 he indulged in a short relaxation by going to Taif, a
town delightfully situated in a mountainous region about fourteen hours
from Mecca, and surrounded with flowing streams and delicious gardens.
Returning thence to Djedda he took ship, and in five days reached the
port of Reis, six days’ distance by land from Medina. The whole of the
intervening districts between Mecca and Medina, spreading far into the
interior, and down to the sea-coasts, are infested by a race of Arabs
called the Arabs Hurb. These demi-savages are hideous to behold. They
wear little or no clothing. Their skins resemble burnt and crackling
parchment. Their thick, shaggy, black hair floats wildly over their
shoulders. They have few horses; but they themselves run like ostriches.
These Arab tribes are at perpetual war with the Turks. No caravan dares
to cross these dangerous tracts without being strongly guarded. This
duty devolves on Turkish troops, who run the gauntlet with hearts
failing them for fear. They are generally attacked, mostly defeated,
sometimes destroyed, the caravan reaching its destination naked and
penniless.
Amongst the Arabs Hurb the name of Abdel Kader had for years been a
household word. On hearing of his arrival at Reis, their Sheiks sent him
a deputation requesting permission for them to be allowed to come and
offer him their salutations. He replied, that as they were at open
enmity with the Turkish Government, and as some Turkish officials were
accompanying him on his proposed journey inward, he begged to be spared
the distinction they would have offered him. They acknowledged the
delicacy of the dilemma, and did not persist. For once, and solely for
the sake of Abdel Kader, they allowed the caravan from Reis to reach
Medina without the slightest molestation. The return caravan was
attacked and plundered, and the Turkish guard cut to pieces.
Abdel Kader remained at Medina for four months, resuming, near the
Prophet’s tomb, the course of life he had practised while at Mecca. The
guardian of the sanctuary repeatedly invited him to examine all the
precious treasures it contained—the votive offerings of diamonds and
pearls and precious stones, and gold and silver, sent by kings, princes,
potentates, and grandees, from all parts of the Mohammedan world. But
Abdel Kader refused even to look at the treasures. He regarded them as a
wasteful and useless prodigality, and a sinful misapplication of wealth,
which might have been far better employed in works of general charity.
When the time for his departure arrived, the Arabs Hurb again pressed on
him their services, and offered to escort him in perfect safety through
the overland route of fourteen days to Mecca. He would have availed
himself of their offer had not two Ulemas who were his travelling
companions dreaded the fatigues of the journey; and not wishing to
separate himself from his fellow-travellers, he was again obliged to
decline these flattering marks of personal devotion and attachment. He
returned to Reis, and reached Mecca by the way he had come, in time to
be present at the rites and solemnities of the Beiram, for the second
time. His object and his vow were thus accomplished. He now turned his
face homewards, and in June, 1864, arrived at Alexandria.
Abdel Kader had just succeeded in achieving, after much toil and self-
abnegation, the highest distinction to be attained in a religious
profession pre-eminently dogmatic and exclusive. By a singular contrast,
he now claimed to wear the badge of a society based and established on
the principle of universal brotherhood. The Masonic body in Alexandria
hastened to welcome the illustrious neophyte. The Lodge of the Pyramids
was especially convoked for the occasion in the evening of the 18th of
June. Abdel Kader was initiated into the mysteries; and to the privilege
of being the “Fellow of the Prophet,” added the more time-honoured
privilege of being “a free and accepted Mason.”
After staying a short time at Alexandria, in order to complete the
requisite documents and arrange the necessary details which were to
enable him to take possession of a large landed property, presented to
him by the Viceroy of Egypt, he left for Syria, and reached Damascus
towards the end of July, 1864. There, for the present, we leave this
“great and complete man,” pursuing that career which he considers to
have been marked out for him by destiny. Of this career he himself has
said, “It was pointed out to me by my birth, my education, and my
predilection. It is one which I ardently long to resume, and to which I
never cease praying to God to allow me to return, now at the close of my
laborious years.”
Though such, however, was the career which Abdel Kader had imagined for
himself, an over-ruling Providence had ordained it otherwise. His
career, as it stands before the public, is without a counterpart in the
annals of great and extraordinary men, for its sudden and unexpected
rise, for the strange variety of its phases, and the unlooked-for stages
of its development. Never was there a career more completely typical of
the riddle of human existence—never one which more completely
illustrated the truth of the wise man’s saying—“A man’s goings are of
the Lord; how can a man then understand his way?”
That career may now be recapitulated in a few brief sentences. A young
Mohammedan Arab had devoted himself to the seclusion and religious
exercises of the cloister. A crisis in his country’s fate called him
reluctantly from his retreat to the head of affairs. The seeds of his
latent genius burst forth at once into full-blown maturity. He shone
with unrivalled splendour as the preacher and leader of a Holy War
against the encroachments of a Christian power. He kept the armies of
this great power at bay for fifteen years, with forces immeasurably
inferior, and only made available by the fiery enthusiasm with which he
knew how to inspire them. Twice he compelled his enemy to grant him
advantageous terms of peace, and to salute him with titles of
sovereignty.
All the while, he was moulding and forming an internal administration,
which, rapidly superseding the wildest anarchy and confusion, presented
a pattern of order, regularity, and justice. He laid the foundation of a
Mohammedan empire. In his own person he offered to his subjects a model
of bravery, fortitude, activity, perseverance, piety, and zeal. He
yielded at length to overwhelming numbers. He surrendered to his
Christian foes, on the express condition that they should conduct him,
in the full enjoyment of complete and unrestricted freedom, to some
other Moslem soil.
His enemies treacherously conveyed him to their own land. Their
Government threw him into hopeless and apparently life-long captivity. A
prince whose genius, like his own, had sustained him with unfailing
trust and confidence through adverse fortunes, overthrew that Government
and arrived at supreme power. The magnanimity of that prince restored
him to liberty.
Then, by a wonderful turn in the wheel of fortune, this brilliant and
uncompromising champion of Islamism was seen to take a marked and
foremost place in the Christian world. He became a member of many of its
literary and scientific bodies, corresponded on terms of equality and
friendship with its most illustrious potentates; and finally, near the
close of his ostensible career, saw his breast covered with the martial
emblems of that very faith which, at its commencement, he had drawn his
sword to resist and to defy! Truly, such a career is without its
parallel in history.
Those who have perused the preceding pages will have found many grounds
for salutary reflection. In the example there laid before them they will
have been profitably reminded of the utter short-sightedness and
uncertainty of all human calculations. They will, at the same time, have
been instructed, edified, and encouraged, by the striking proof which it
affords that the only really strengthening and peace-giving motives of
human action are, a practical and persevering sense of duty, and a
humble, cheerful, submissive, and unswerving trust in God.
THE END.
* * * * *
VIRTUE AND CO., PRINTERS. CITY-ROAD, LONDON.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1:
“Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion.”
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.]
[Footnote 2: Mohammed.]
Transcriber's note:
pg 5 Changed: "at the the same time" to: "at the same time"
pg 47 Changed: "but, a a Mussulman, I looked" to: "as a Mussulman"
pg 50, pg 84, pg 160, pg 167 Changed: "Milond-ibn-Arasch" or
"Milond ibn Arasch" to: "Miloud"
pg 127 Changed: "‘with animation, ‘I hope yet to restore" to:
"‘with animation, I hope yet to restore"
pg 134 Changed: "the last were Abon Hamadi" to: "Abou"
pg 142 Changed: "Kader adjured them them to rally" to: "Kader adjured
them to rally"
pg 148 Changed: "plates of the national dish—the _conscoussia_" to:
"_couscoussia_"
pg 285 Changed: "abjured him to vindidate" to: "vindicate"
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