Algeria from within

[Illustration: The Author]

Algeria From Within

By R. V. C. Bodley

Illustrated

Indianapolis The Bobbs-Merrill Company Publishers

Copyright, 1927, By The Bobbs-Merrill Company

_Printed in the United States of America_

Printed And Bound By Braunworth & Co., Inc. Brooklyn, New York

_To_ MY MANY FRIENDS OF ALL NATIONALITIES WHO INHABIT ALGERIA

Foreword

This is not a preface but merely a few words to state that in writing these pages I have in no way tried to criticize the French administration or to discuss the Arab from any point of view but that of a spectator.

I have no political feelings, few ambitions beyond living simply and far away from the world, and if this work exists at all, it is because I have wished that people should know Algeria as it really is.

Once upon a time I had great ideas about worldly position and the sound of long titles; I believed that greatness was to be achieved in the capitals of Europe or on the battle-fields, but I know now that this is not so. Worldly positions and great titles are the weary outcome of much money laboriously reaped, and the heroes of battle-fields pass unnoticed in the street.

Southern Algeria, with all its charm, with all its capricious moods, has, like some lovely woman, taken me in its arms and I am doubtful if it will ever let me go.

Let this book therefore be read in the spirit in which it has been written by one who, having seen life in many parts of the globe, has found peace and solution to all worldly difficulties among the rustling palm-trees and broad expanses of the Sahara.

I must here take the opportunity of thanking certain kind friends who have helped me in my work, notably:

Monsieur Jean Causeret, Secrétaire Général du Gouvernement Général, who has supplied me with maps, Dr. Alfred S. Gubb, the well-known English physician in Algiers, the Rev. Lucius Fry, British Chaplain in Algiers, and Mrs. Clare Sheridan, who have all lent me photos appearing in these pages. My thanks are also due to Mrs. Welthin Winlo, whose untiring secretarial work has helped me to prepare this work, to Miss Una Thomas who has helped me with the proofs, and to Mr. Julian Sampson, who has not only supplied me with photographs, but who has also brought his expert knowledge to bear in the selecting of suitable illustrations.

LAGHOUAT, _November_, 1926.

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE I The Object of the Book 13 II A Little Geography 17 III A Little History 22 IV The French Conquest of Algeria 29 V The Inhabitants To-Day 35 VI French Administration of Algeria 40 VII Arab Administration 48 VIII Marabouts 57 IX The Arab Character 64 X Life among the Arabs 72 XI Arab Women 80 XII Arab Love and the Women of the Reserved Quarter 87 XIII Arab Music and Dancing 94 XIV Religion 101 XV Religious Observances 109 XVI “Mektoub” and Other Superstitions 116 XVII Abd-El-Kader 122 XVIII Arab Education 128 XIX Sport among the Arabs 133 XX The Nomads 140 XXI Sheep-Breeding 146 XXII Other Products 152 XXIII Algiers 158 XXIV Two Excursions 164 XXV Voyage 170 XXVI Bou Saada 176 XXVII The First Glimpse of the Sahara 182 XXVIII The Oasis of Laghouat 187 XXIX The Mzab 194 XXX Ghardaia and Adjoining Towns 201 XXXI Guerrera and the Sand Desert 208 XXXII Biskra 213 XXXIII Timgad 219 XXXIV Djemila the Desolate 226 XXXV Constantine to the Coast 232 XXXVI Kebylie 239 XXXVII Traveling Off the Beaten Track 246 XXXVIII Few Sketches of Arab Life 252 XXXIX A Last Glimpse of the Arab 295 Index 303

Algeria From Within

Chapter I

The Object Of The Book

A writer who sets out to study a foreign country such as Algeria is faced with two difficulties: the first, the natural suspicion of the Mohammedan population; the second, the little information obtainable from the French inhabitants of the country.

It has been possible to overcome the first difficulty by making the Arab realize that there was no intention to interfere with his interior life or to obtain information in order to denounce family secrets. The second difficulty has remained. This is due to two factors. The first is the ignorance of the majority of Frenchmen, whether they be business men or colonists, of the customs and peculiarities of any area not neighboring that in which they actually dwell; the second is the French administrator’s apparent lack of information on anything beyond that which is not already to be found in the official handbooks.

When occasionally one meets some one with a deeper knowledge of the matters which should interest him, it is hard, as a foreigner, to obtain any valuable data. The Frenchman finds it difficult to realize that any one can wish to peer into the inner workings of a foreign country without some ulterior motive. If it is not deliberate spying for a jealous government, it is to steal a march on some business enterprise!

Comprehensive books on Algeria of to-day are few, and usually contradict one another, according to the point of view of the writers.

The only solution, therefore, to the problem of writing this book has been for the author to settle in the country, living the life of its people, and gleaning what information was possible as a business man in the city of Algiers, as a sheep-breeder on the Sahara, and as a traveler across the great plains and mountains of this sunny land.

The title of the book has perhaps a pretentious sound, suggesting that Algeria is some unexplored country into which the writer has penetrated, bringing back with him revelations of unknown mysteries never yet set before the public. But though this is not the case, it is hoped that the reader, be he a tourist or scholar, will find in these pages information which is new and interesting—_Algeria from Within_ in opposition to the Algeria from “_without_” as set down by travelers who have passed a few winter months in the country and who, returning home, have compiled an inaccurate volume based on first impressions and on legends served up very hot by the hard-worked guides.

These legends will have to be dispelled at the cost of disillusioning veteran visitors who pass winter after winter in the overheated hotels of Mustapha Supérieur. But, against this, the book will endeavor to explain shortly and accurately what this French colony really is, what its people are doing and thinking, wherein lies its future.

There have been no aspirations to make of it a comprehensive guide-book or survey of the country’s long history, neither has any attempt been made to criticize the French rule, or to compare it with the administration of other colonies. True facts have been set down as seen by one who has lived many years in the country, constantly studying all about him without confining himself to one area nor to one class of people. Living not only in the big cities, but also in the cultivated plains, in the desolation of the desert, and mixing with the French administrators, with business men, with the colonists, and visiting the Arabs in such intimacy that it is possible to tell of their daily life as it is really lived.

[Illustration: map]

It is more a pen-picture of Algeria and the Sahara as it is to-day, drawn in the desire that the reader— be he traveler in all the senses of the word or one who journeys by his fireside on long winter evenings— will close the volume with a feeling that he has peeped for a moment into the intimate life of a country which, with all its youthful future, has a background of history more varied perhaps than any other country in the world. . . .

To the average tourist who leaves the misty London station in search of warmth and sunshine, the country he is about to visit is probably a somewhat uncertain vision of blue skies, palm-trees, and stately Arabs.

The inspired artists of the P. L. M. railway posters have dazzled his eyes with enchanting prospects of palm-green shores and rolling expanses of sand, golden in a perpetual sunset, while the scaleless maps of tourist agencies have graven in his mind the names Algiers, Biskra, Fez and Tunis, leaving him with a vague impression that all these places are in the same country and within easy reach of one another.

His mind is rather in the same state as that of the old lady who asks the officer going to India not to forget to look up her nephew who is stationed in Burmah. He has probably not realized that Algeria differs greatly from Tunisia and Morocco in people and in government, and that it has no connections whatever with either of these two countries which form its eastern and western frontiers.

Even winter residents and regular visitors to Algeria know the country very superficially, and though some have ventured along the beaten tracks as far as the oases of Touggourt and Ghardaia, there are few who have left the main roads and mixed in the private life of the country. And what blame to them? There are few railways, and the motor-transport time-tables are lacking. The guide-books do not dwell upon places off the classical tours, the information at the tourist agencies goes no further, and even if the adventurous traveler pushes into the unfrequented regions, he will find no one to guide him, and unless he knows Arabic he will often be unable to make himself understood. Even when the acquaintance of an Arab chief has been made it takes many months to break through his exterior façade and to obtain a glimpse of his thoughts or his private life.

This book, therefore—which should be read in conjunction with a guide-book—will endeavor to lift a veil on matters which are of the deepest interest to all those who want to learn something about a land which must appeal to the most blasé traveler.

Chapter II

A Little Geography

Algeria is situated some fifteen hundred miles due south of London, and is accessible via Paris and Marseilles in fifty hours, or by sea from Southhampton in four days. The country is bounded on the north by the Mediterranean, on the east by Tunisia, and on the west by Morocco. Its southern boundary is difficult to define, as, though in reality Algeria extends right across the desert to Senegal, Algeria proper does not go farther than the northerly tracts of the Sahara.

Moreover, although considered as a French colony, the country is divided into three departments or counties, having the same status as if in France. From east to west they are Constantine, Alger, Oranie, and there is a further area lying south of these departments known as the Territoires du Sud.

The actual area of the country, again, is uncertain, owing to the great tracts of desert, but, roughly speaking, it can be said that the cultivated and inhabited areas comprising the three departments cover an area of 222,000 square miles—a little smaller than France. Including the Sahara, the country must be reckoned at 1,071,000 square miles.

By natural configuration the land is divided into four distinct belts: the low hills which border the coast protecting the rich cereal and vine lands from the sea winds; the Little Atlas or Mountains of the Tell, which include the lofty peaks of the Kabyle country; the Sersou, forming a kind of broad valley between the hills and the Hauts Plateaux which, as the name implies, is a high tableland, some two thousand feet above sea-level and rolling down to the desert three hundred miles south of the coast; and the Sahara, stretching away to Senegal.

The desert can, again, be divided into different areas. Its northern belts, covered with a kind of scrub, thyme and mint, afford ample nourishment to the flocks of sheep and goats all the winter, while camels can always find plenty to eat there. Beyond this pasture-land, is the rock and the sand desert, the former greatly exceeding the latter in area. It is a desolate and cruel-looking country, except where the oases spring up and form centers unexpectedly rich not only in palms, but also in all kinds of fruit-trees.

Generally speaking, therefore, Algeria is a hilly country, and the Sahara is far from flat; the whole land is very fertile wherever there is water, but subject to great extremes of climate. What surprises the traveler most, after a tour through any of the three departments and down to the desert, is first of all the astonishing variety of scenery through which he passes, and second, the amount of natural products of the land.

The roads along the coast give a wonderful impression of marine scenery—deep red cliffs and a sapphire sea.

To the east of Algiers, forests of cork-trees border the road, olive-yards cover the slopes of the hills, while every now and then one sees extensive tobacco plantations.

Turning inland, the traveler will pass through more forests, then, climbing into the Kabyle Mountains, he will come to the fig-trees clothing the steep hills, till up and up he climbs to a level of some five thousand feet above the sea. Towering mountains are about him, deep in snow for four months of the year and quite unexpectedly cold in this sunny Africa.

Following the coast in a westerly direction, he will traverse miles of all kinds of vegetables, grown by the local farmers for export to France and England. The new potatoes, the salads and tomatoes, associated with exorbitant prices in Paris in winter, will be seen ripening under this southern sun.

If the journey is continued farther west into the confines of Oranie a few cotton plantations will be seen, then the vast plains of cereals—the ancient granary of the Roman Empire—which now that the old system of irrigation has disappeared are sadly dependent on the rainfall.

Turning inland from Algiers, the hills bordering the coast are left behind and the vine-clad plain of the Mitidja is entered. For two hours the car will pass swiftly through vineyard after vineyard, while here and there rich orange-groves will relieve the monotony of the interminable lines of vines. The wine produced in this area is much richer and of higher alcoholic degree than that of France, and in a normal year not only suffices for all the wants of the country, but is exported in large quantities to the mother country, where it is used to cut the Burgundies and Bordeaux, and in some cases to be sold as French _vin ordinaire_.

Moving still in a southerly direction, the country becomes mountainous as the Atlas range is entered. The slopes are covered with mountain-oak, pine-trees, and now and then cork, but, though this is supposed to be one of the forest-lands of Algeria, the traveler needs to be notified of the fact. There is, however, one very fine cedar forest above Teniet el Haad, but it is rarely visited as it is off the beaten track. The hills are full of tailless monkeys—the Barbary ape—which come down to the roadside, where there are inhabitants and prospects of food.

Beyond the Atlas range, here known as the Tell, where cattle and horses are raised, the country slopes down on to the wide pastures of the Sersou; it is now very flat and desertic in appearance. Soon the tufts of alfa grass are noticed growing in tall bunches right away as far as the eye can reach, and farther, for hundreds of miles to east and west extend these tracts of paper-making grass. Many of the concessions are owned by British concerns, which, having picked the raw material, despatch it to the Lancashire papermills to be manufactured.

Leaving the alfa, the country again becomes mountainous and wooded as the Hauts Plateaux are reached. The trees do not, however, last long, as soon the downward grade is begun, with the rich pasture-lands which run right away into the desert. This is the land of sheep-breeding, and as one travels along one sees countless flocks of sheep and goats.

The beginning of the Sahara is clearly defined by the sudden disappearance of the low, barren hills which have marked the descent from the Hauts Plateaux. The reappearance, too, of the palm-tree, which has not been seen since Algiers, reminds one that one is in the land of the oases, while away, away, stretches the desert, till its grayness merges in the sky like some eternally calm sea.

The pasture continues for a few hundred miles and then gradually disappears, giving place to stones and rocks, desolate and merciless, until in turn these give way to rolling sands, and again to barren wastes of pebbles, broken only by the welcome water-point or the green oasis offering relief to weary wanderers.

In a few words, this is the scenery of Algeria, and after a week’s journeying the traveler is really amazed at the thought that all he has seen is in one country, so varied has been his impression.

[Illustration: _Reproduced by permission of Mr. George Churchill, British Consul General, Algiers_ Algiers as It Was before the French Conquest in 1830]

[Illustration: The Old Port of Algiers as it is To-day]

Algiers, with its sub-tropical gardens and modern improvements, the sea coast, the broad plains of cereals, the rich vineyards, the orange-groves and olive-yards, the forests of cork and pine, the wild mountains, the silent expanses of alfa, the nomads on the pastures, and the limitless Sahara!

Further, if one remains a year in the country one will realize the difficulties with which the settler is faced owing to the extremes of climate. Generally speaking, it rains too much north of the Sersou during the months of November, December, and January. It never rains too much in the south. The summer and spring are too dry, and, whereas in the winter there is frost as far south as the edge of the Sahara, the summer heat is everywhere excessive. The heat is especially unpleasant in Algiers and along the coast on account of the damp; at midday in the plains it is intolerable, and when the sirocco blows from the desert, life is wretched all over the smitten area.

Irrigation is in its childhood; artificial pasturage is unknown, with the result that a good or a bad year depends entirely on the caprices of the weather. Generally speaking, one can say that in a period of seven years there are two very good years, four average years, and one bad year.

When the year is good it is beyond all imagination, and it is, in fact, said that the two very good years should pay for any losses in the remaining five!

A land of light and shade, of everlasting contrasts, a land which, like a lovely woman, charms one by its unexpectedness, by its tenderness and sudden harshness, by all its capricious moods. A land of the future, but a land also of the past—and this, perforce, brings us to the next chapter.

Chapter III

A Little History

The original inhabitants of Algeria were Berbers. The present native inhabitant of Algeria is the Berber, and yet ask any one who the natives are and they will reply “Arabs”; some of the more intelligent will perhaps say “Arabs with a sprinkling of Berbers.”

But this is wrong. When history first threw light on North Africa the Berbers were there, and they have not yet departed. It is true that many invasions and upheavals have passed through Algeria during the past three thousand years, but, though they have left their trace, it is only the Arabs who have really left their mark on the original inhabitants.

The first important landmark in the history of North Africa is the foundation of Carthage about the year 840 B. C. The Phœnicians had already settled on the Tunisian coast for some three hundred years previous to this, but their importance dates from the foundation of their great city, which was to have such an influence on the history of the civilized world for six hundred years.

Since this book, however, is not a history of the country, it will be sufficient to mention the outstanding historical features during those long years during which war and invasion centered round the North African shores. The Carthaginian domination flourished in all its splendor until the year 264 B. C. Up to this period those hardy merchant mariners were masters of the whole of the Mediterranean; they had explored the Atlantic coast as far as Sierra Leone; one expedition had sailed right round the African continent; and they had made it clear to Rome that they would brook no interference. Carthaginian naval power was supreme, and she counted on that alone to ensure her sovereignty of the Mediterranean. In the latter half, therefore, of that century she had defied Rome, and in a few years came into armed conflict with the future masters of the world.

This armed conflict, which was to last for over eighty years, and which was to produce those names famous to every public schoolboy who does not despise classical education—Hanno, Hamilcar, Hannibal, Hasdrubal, Scipio, Fabius Maximus—ended in 146 B. C. with the destruction of Carthage and the foundation of a Roman province consisting of modern Tunisia and part of Tripoli. One hundred years later Numidia, Algeria of to-day, was annexed, and for the next four hundred years the march of empire continued. At first the Romans were not a little embarrassed with their new acquisitions, all the more so on account of the hostile attitude of the Numidian kings at Cirta (modern Constantine). Strifes and minor wars continued for some time. Rome aided first one side and then another, but, finally realizing the futility of her rôle, a strong expedition was despatched and finally succeeded in defeating the Numidian king Jugurtha. It was not, however, until the year 46 B. C. that Cæsar finally routed Juba on the Tunisian coast and in that defeat destroyed the kingdom of Numidia.

The son of Juba, who had been taken to Italy and educated as a Roman, was married to the daughter of Antony and Cleopatra, and was eventually placed on the throne of Numidia, where he ruled in splendor until the year 19 B. C. During his reign the empire had spread and extended over North Africa from the Tunisian coast to the Atlantic, and its military posts guarded the entries of the Sahara. The traces of once-glorious Rome remain in various states of ruin to this day, and will be dealt with in further chapters. It would take too long to enter into details of the administration of the country under the Imperial eagle and of the birth and growth of Christianity in North Africa. The Roman Empire had spread, and it was not until the beginning of its fall that the rule in North Africa tottered.

Ever since the beginning of the fifth century A. D. Roman possessions in Europe were being flooded by the advance of the Vandals. In 428 the terrible Genesric crossed to Africa from Spain, with an army of ninety thousand men, and landed at Ceuta. Like all new invaders, he was welcomed as a savior, and his success was instantaneous. He swept the Roman armies before him, he built a fleet and became the terror of the Mediterranean, and in 455 took Rome.

How far these conquests would have continued it is difficult to say had not Genesric died. With his death his followers, who had drifted into an easy-going state, no longer held together, but became the prey of jealous strifes among chiefs. Their fall was rapid. The Roman Government, now transferred to Constantinople, was awaiting the opportunity to avenge its defeat. A little more than a hundred years after the landing of the Vandals in Africa, Belisarius sailed from Constantinople with six hundred ships, and three months later landed in Tripoli.

The Byzantine invasion had begun, and in three months Belisarius was able to announce to the Emperor Justinian that North Africa was again part of the Roman Empire.

But the Byzantine rule did not last long. The country was rent by wars and revolts; the people were worn out with changes of government; and, though there remain great forts and mightily walled cities as a record of this rule, they are evidence in themselves of the turbulent times which shook the country. When, therefore, the first Arab invasion poured in, there was nothing to quell it, and for one last time Imperial Rome struggled for a moment, staggered and fell.

The first Arab invasion of the seventh century was more a series of raids than anything else. Mohammed had appeared and died, but his teaching had remained, and had inspired those bands of wild nomads to organize themselves. Persia, Syria, Egypt had fallen before the advance, and soon they began moving farther west. The most important of these raids was that led by Sidi Okba, who traversed the whole of Algeria and Morocco, and who, no doubt, would have gone on had he not been arrested by the Atlantic.

He was killed during his return journey by the Berber army under Koceila, and he is buried near Biskra, where his memory is venerated.

Hassan followed him, and finally drove the last Byzantines out of North Africa. Needless to say, the chief object of the invaders had been to convert the people to the new faith, and little by little the Berbers became Mohammedans. It did not take long for them to create dissension in these beliefs, but they remained generally under the law of the Prophet, respecting the principles even more rigidly than their conquerors.

However, the most important point of this conversion is that it created an Arab-Berber alliance for the further march of Mohammedanism into Europe. It is said that it was a Berber named Tarik who first crossed the Straits of Gibraltar, and it was after him that the rock took its name, Djebel el Tarik—the Mountain of Tarik.

The Arabs and Berbers pressed on through Spain until they were defeated by Charles Martel at Poitiers in 732 and retired into the peninsula. The remains of their grandeur can be seen in the glorious palaces and mosques at Seville, Cordova and Granada. But the Berbers, being of an independent nature, did not readily accept the laws and regulations of the allies. In the tenth century there were a number of insurrections in Algeria, and the Fatimides, or followers of the descendant of Fathma, the daughter of the prophet, succeeded for a period in dominating the country. Unfortunately for them their chief tried to go too far in his independence, and in the twelfth century the Sultan at Cairo launched a punitive expedition composed of the five tribes known as the Hilals.

Unlike the expeditions of the seventh century, these invaders came in hordes, bringing with them their flocks and their belongings, and sweeping mercilessly across the country, leaving devastation behind. Arabs and Berbers united to oppose them, but to no avail. Their armies poured over the land like a cloud of locusts. The little that was left of Roman civilization was destroyed, the cultivation disappeared, and North Africa was the desert of over a thousand years before.

From this period until the end of the fifteenth century North Africa was given over to pillage. With the exception of the cities of Tunis, Tlemçen and Fez, anarchy seems to have reigned everywhere, and there are no records or history of the period. The Arab had shown his worth; the Arab as an administrator had no qualification; he has not yet proved the contrary.

At first it was the Spaniards who took the place as rulers of North Africa. They had gradually driven the Mohammedans out of southern Spain, and during the first ten years of the sixteenth century had occupied the seaports from Oran right down to Bougie, including Algiers. But these conquests did not really interest them as their eyes were turned to the Indies. Moreover, in the meanwhile the brothers Barbarossa were scouring the Mediterranean, and when they were asked to rid Algeria of the Spaniards it did not take them long to do it. But once the deed was accomplished, the Turks refused to leave, and in 1546 took possession of Algiers.

For the next three hundred years the White City became the stronghold of the pirates of the Mediterranean. At first their fleet was nominally a national navy, fighting against Charles Quint, but little by little all form of legitimate warfare disappeared and open piracy became the sole occupation of these wild seamen. Their ships became independent rovers of the sea; built lighter and more handily than the average cargo- or war-vessel of other nations, they fell upon their prey regardless of its flag, captured it, and brought it back to Algiers. Here the cargo was divided: a quarter to the state, and the rest to the owner and crew of the vessel. The sailors or passengers on board the prize were employed as slaves, those who knew trades, to build and beautify the palaces of their masters, the more common to work in the quarries or to row in the galleys. If they were men of importance, they were held to ransom. Among other prisoners who spent a not too pleasant sojourn in Algeria were Cervantes, the author of _Don Quixote_, and the French poet Regnard.

It was not long, however, before the powers in Europe began to occupy themselves with these acts of open brigandage. In 1541, Charles Quint led an expedition, but partly by reason of adverse weather, and partly by the strength of the Turkish lair, he was entirely defeated, and just escaped with a small portion of his forces.

The squadron sent by Cromwell under Blake in 1655 fared better. Part of the Turkish Fleet was destroyed at Tunis, and the release of the British prisoners was obtained. Louis XIV sent two fleets in 1682 and 1688, under Duquesne and d’Estrès respectively, but, though their bombardments did a good deal of damage to the fortifications, and temporarily hampered the pirates’ activity, the effect did not last long.

About the same time Sir Thomas Allen, and a little later Sir Edward Spragg, inflicted minor defeats on the Turkish fleets, but on the whole little harm was done; and though Lord Exmouth won a decisive victory in 1816 and seriously battered the fortifications, he was unable to land, and it remained for the French in 1830 finally to shake and destroy a rule which had dominated the Mediterranean for three centuries. With their entry on to the scene, the period of anarchy begun by the Vandals finally disappeared, and the task almost completed by the Romans started again on almost as barren a soil as that faced by the great colonists of the Mediterranean a hundred years before Christ.

Chapter IV

The French Conquest Of Algeria

It will be easily understood that this undisputed mastery of the Mediterranean basin had given the Turks of Algeria a very great impression of their importance, and had left them with little respect for the European powers. Consideration, therefore, for representatives of those powers was on the same scale, and when one day the French Consul, Deval, paid an official visit to the Dey Hussein to protest about the non-payment of a debt to a French subject, Hussein summarily sent him about his business with a flick over the face with his fan.

This took place in 1827, but it was not until 1830 that the French really decided to have done with the insolence of the dey. An army of thirty-five thousand men was organized under General Bourmont, one of Napoleon’s officers, escorted by a fleet of three hundred ships. Curiously enough the success of the expedition was greatly facilitated by the lack of vigilance of British guards some twenty years before.

In 1808 Napoleon had practically decided to conquer Algeria and Colonel Boutin had been sent on a secret mission to Algiers with orders to reconnoiter the land. During his return journey the ship on which he was traveling was captured by a British man-of-war and the Colonel was imprisoned at Malta.

He, however, succeeded in escaping, and, returning to France, laid his report before the Emperor, who had by that time decided that Egypt was a more interesting goal.

Boutin’s plans were therefore put aside, but when the expedition of 1830 was being prepared they came to light again and were exclusively used in drawing up all the details of the attack.

Wisely avoiding the mistakes of their predecessors who had attempted to take the stronghold itself, the fleet bearing the army sailed to the west of Algiers, and in June, 1830, landed without opposition in the sheltered bay of Sidi Ferruch. The cause of this easy landing has never been clearly established, but it is supposed that Hussein either believed that this invasion would share the same fate as all others, and that by allowing the army to land his victory would be more complete, or else that he did not anticipate an attack from that quarter.

However, the fact remains that the whole of the French army landed without difficulty, and that a few days later they were marching on Algiers. They met the first elements of the Turkish army at Staoueli. The battle was fierce, but the French artillery caused havoc among the ranks of the Moslem troops, which were driven out of their position. The French headquarters were established on the site of the future Trappist monastery, which is now a great wine-cellar.

The advance on Algiers was continued, but there were no roads, and the hills of the Sahel were covered with thick scrub. On June twenty-ninth, however, the army arrived before Algiers. The attack on the fortress where Charles Quint had for a brief moment pitched his tent was immediately commenced. For a time the Turks held out, but, realizing the futility of their task, they set fire to the powder-magazine and blew up the great pile, emblem of their long rule. The French, meeting no longer with any opposition, pushed on, and on July fifth made their triumphal entry into Algiers.

The immediate result of this victory was for the King of France, Charles X, to lose his head. He believed that he was now in a position to exercise absolute power, and he expressed himself by publishing his famous _Ordonnances_. The consequence was revolution. Charles X was deposed, and Louis Philippe, the son of Philippe Egalité, mounted the throne. General Bourmont was relieved of his post as Commander-in-Chief, giving way to General Clauzel.

As can be imagined, this did not tend to help matters across the Mediterranean. The capture of Algiers had taken barely a month—the subduing of the Arabs was to drag on for over thirty years.

In the first place, the new Government in Paris was very diffident about pushing forward the conquest of the country. At first only the coast was occupied. This was interpreted by the natives of the interior as fear, and it was with little difficulty that the young Emir, Abd-el-Kader, raised the population to a holy war. Until the year 1847 this struggle continued with varying success, and it was not until Bugeaud, an old warrior of the First Empire, took charge of the operations that the unruly chief began to lose ground. The capture of his _smala_ in 1843 at Taguine in the Sersou was the beginning of the end. Four years later he surrendered and was exiled, and he finally died at Damascus. His memory is venerated by all the Arabs of the country.

Once the emir was out of the way, Bugeaud began to penetrate the interior by colonization. His famous motto, _“Ense et aratro,”_ was to prove a veritable success, and little by little the country began transforming itself. In the meanwhile he did not neglect the conquest of the territory still unsubdued. In 1852 the Oasis of Laghouat was captured after tedious fighting, and with it the penetration of the Sahara began.

The last strongholds of the Berbers in the Kabyle Mountains fell in 1857. The country seemed turning toward peace. But in 1864 a fierce revolt burst forth in southern Oranie; the French punitive column was massacred, and the rebellion spread all over the department. It took five years to quell it completely.

Hardly was this over than the Franco-Prussian War broke out and Algeria again became a center of agitation. The Kabyles for a short space threatened the peace of the whole country, capturing numbers of French centers and massacring the inhabitants. The French were obliged to send troops back from France at a very awkward moment, but they succeeded in quelling the insurrection. In 1879 the Berbers of the Aurès made an attempt to rise, but were rapidly repressed; the same lot awaited the insurgents of southern Oranie in 1881. I can not pass this point in the history of the conquest without mentioning a name great in the annals of Algeria though sadly forgotten by many historians.

I refer to Cardinal Lavigerie, priest and administrator, founder of the order of the Pères Blancs who did more by his foresight and calm judgment to bring the Arabs under French rule than any governor during these turbulent times. His political activities were only eclipsed by his evangelical work, and his influence in North Africa has ever remained.

Those who are interested in this subject will find some excellent reading in _Le Cardinal Lavigerie et Son Action Politique_ by J. Tournin. This book not only deals with the Cardinal’s long administration in North Africa but also throws much light on all those intrigues which finally led to the disestablishment of the Church in France.

Since then little has occurred to disturb the peace of Algeria, and, in spite of a certain amount of unrest during the Great War, there has been no definite rebellion.

The French conquest took long, but, when one looks at the stupendous difficulties which had to be overcome, one is surprised it was completed so rapidly. Everything was against it: an unstable government, which was overthrown at the outset of the campaign by an equally unstable rule, which itself disappeared a few years later to give place to the adventures of the Second Empire; statesmen who had no definite policy as regards North Africa, and generals who never had sufficient troops nor a free enough hand really to take up the conquest of the country seriously.

Opposing them was an enemy, composed of born fighters, knowing the country as well as their horses, amazingly mobile, capable of concentrating to fight a battle and dispersing again like the sand, and inspired with the spirit of religious war. The country was overgrown with thick brush; there were no roads, great mountains to cross, and, once in the interior, no means of feeding or watering the army, with no towns from which food or cattle could be requisitioned, no wells or springs and a climate of great extremes.

When one traverses the great plains of the Sersou and the Hauts Plateaux leaning back in a comfortable car, or when trekking across the Sahara to some known water-point among a friendly people, one often wonders how it was possible for that small French column in this unknown country to press on after an elusive enemy with lines of communication of such immense length. There is no heroic record of their achievements, and, apart from certain names known to French school-children, no one appears to have been honored or exalted as responsible for this series of campaigns.

Let any trained soldier consider the taking of Laghouat, three hundred miles south of Algiers, in a desert, unpopulated and waterless, and he will wonder how it was done. The conquest of Algeria by the French is one of the greatest pages of military history.

Chapter V

The Inhabitants To-Day

North Africa has been very aptly described as a melting-pot of the Mediterranean races, and, though all trace of invaders such as the Vandals and the Byzantines have vanished, the other peoples who came and conquered and were in turn defeated have left their mark on the inhabitants of to-day.

The Phœnician, the Roman, the Arab, the Spaniard, the Turk, can be seen in all parts of North Africa, and, though it requires perhaps a little study and experience to place one’s hand on the actual features of the past conquests, they are most striking when one is shown them. The original race of the country is, however, the Berber, and, in spite of these invasions which have devastated, reinstated, and again devastated his country, he has remained in a good many districts as pure as the Celts.

Roughly speaking, it can be said that to-day the pure Berbers are found in all the highest mountains, such as the Aurès above Biskra, the Kabyle country, and that portion of the Tellian Atlas known as the Ouarsenis, strongholds to which they returned during the various invasions, and where they remained unassailable while the tide of war ebbed and flowed beneath them. The people of the Mzab and the Touaregs of the Hoggar are also pure Berbers: in the case of the former because they were determined to remain pure and exiled themselves in the merciless desert, and in the latter because they were too far away to be touched by invasion. In other parts of Algeria intermarriage naturally took place during the various dominations, but, though Roman and Turkish traces remain, these are eclipsed by those of the Arabs.

Roughly speaking, therefore, it can be said that the groups of pure Berbers are located in the high mountains, in the Mzab and in the Hoggar; that the Berber influence is predominant among the people who inhabit the country immediately south of Algiers, as far as the southern slopes of the Atlas, the department of Constantine, and an arm of the southern territories running from Biskra down to Ouargla and the great belt of desert running right across the Sahara from the Atlantic to Tripoli on a latitude just south of El Golea.

The whole of the rest of the country—that is, the department of Oran, the whole of the southern tracts of the department of Alger, and the rest of the southern territories other than the belt named above— is decidedly Arab. The Berber is there, but the influence is almost entirely that of the nomad invader.

If you ask an intelligent native what his nationality is, he will reply that he is an Arab who has been slightly Berberized or else he will say that he is a noble Arab—that is to say, a claimant to direct descent from Mohammed. While on this subject it is interesting to note what the conception of nobility is among these people. Outwardly, before the European, it is the title of _bash agha_ or _agha_ or _caïd_, but in reality this does not count with the people any more than Lord-Lieutenant of a county in England. To them it is merely a title imposed by the French, which they must respect just as they must respect the Colonel or the _Administrateur_. Aristocracy to them is the descent from the Prophet, or as one wise old gentleman once said:

[Illustration: An Arab Beggar]

[Illustration: Scene of Arab Life]

“To many of us nobility can be achieved by much learning.”

In other words, the scarlet burnous and the loud-sounding title would carry no weight if it were not enforced by the French authority.

To-day, therefore, the inhabitants of Algeria are Arabs and Berbers of whom fifty per cent. claim almost pure Berber blood, and Frenchmen. There are many Spaniards in the department of Oran, and in the east a fair sprinkling of Italians and Maltese. The Jews, too, form an important section of the community; those who live in the north wear European dress, and in the south most of them wear Arab costume, with a certain little difference in the burnous, and in some districts they have robes peculiar to themselves. Their women, even in some families of the north, keep the dress of their people, the embroidered kerchief about the head and the rather shapeless frock. By a law known as the Décret Crémieux, voted in 1871, to facilitate the conscription of recruits for the Franco-Prussian War, all Jews north of a certain latitude in Algeria automatically became French citizens. It was not very popular at the time, but its consequences now are much appreciated. In spite, however, of this French citizenship and all the wealth acquired in commerce, the Jews of Algeria have kept themselves strangely apart. Even in Algiers all their shops are in a certain quarter; they close without exception on Saturday, and attend the synagogue with the utmost regularity. They never intermarry, and they form as distinct a race as the Arabs. In fact, in many districts—and especially in the south—they are always referred to as Israelites. Sometimes they are persecuted, but this merely knits them closer together. They despise the Arabs, but fear them, and tremble at any sign of force.

The Arabs equally despise the Jews, but unfortunately they have got themselves rather into their hands through making use of them as money-lenders.

The actual French occupation of the land does not penetrate very far—in fact, in a great many areas the Frenchman is leaving the interior and returning to the coast. Again and again one passes through European villages with a church built to accommodate a thousand people or so, and one sees about twenty European dwellings in the town and the rest of the houses in ruins or inhabited by Arabs. What has caused this? Primarily, the inherent dislike of the Frenchman to expatriate himself. If he comes to Algeria it is with no idea of spending the rest of his days here. His one idea is to make enough money to permit him to return home to France and eke out a pinched existence in his native village, but with the satisfaction of being a _rentier_. Secondly, the rather ungrateful task of cultivating in a country where all depends on the rainfall. It is all right for the man who has capital and who can bide his time to pay off his losses of the bad year with the profits of the good, but it is heart-breaking work for the small landowner. Of course there are numbers of families who have settled in the cultivated regions and who have become Algerian, but they are the exception; their names can be counted off rapidly.

These men have great fortunes in wine, in cereals and tobacco, and their children have in many cases never seen France; but, generally speaking, the Frenchman is not a colonist, and it is very, very rare to see him away in the Sahara sheep-breeding or alfa-collecting. He has, however, done one rather contradictory thing in imposing his language on practically the whole country. With the exception of the nomads who wander about the Sahara, it is rare to come to any center and not find a French-speaking population.

The Arabs among themselves of course speak their own language; it is a strange dialect based on pure Arabic, but peculiar to North Africa.

Moreover, it differs in accent according to regions. For instance, the language of the south is much deeper and more guttural than that of Algiers, and the talk in Constantine and Oran, again, has many words and intonations not found in other centers.

I think that the correct name for this dialect should be Arabo-Berber. There is, of course, also the pure Berber spoken by the people of the Kabyle and Aurès Mountains, of the Mzab and the Hoggar; and, though Berbers are often found who can not speak anything else, it is almost a general rule to find them bilinguists, while the majority talk French too. It is interesting to note that when the Sultan of Zanzibar came to North Africa the only people with whom he could speak fluently were the Berbers of the Mzab.

The Jews speak both Arab and French fluently; their Arab is often purer than that of the actual natives. A great number speak Hebrew among themselves.

However, to progress comfortably through the country, French is essential, and Arabo-Berber is a great help and inspires confidence among the people. Grammatically, it is a simple language, but the pronunciation is difficult and the number of words which mean the same thing requires one to have command over a large vocabulary. It is a language that can be learned only with a teacher.

These, therefore, are the peoples and the tongues of North Africa, and, armed with this knowledge, we can now penetrate further into the system of administration.

Chapter VI

French Administration Of Algeria

1. _Civilian_

The administration of any country to a foreigner is always rather incomprehensible, but the manner in which Algeria is administered by the French is more than a surprise.

It is not our duty to criticize the method of government of this country, and let it be said at once that, strange as the method may seem, the results are admirable.

To the uninitiated, Algeria is a colony such as Kenya or the Gold Coast, with a Governor and all the general system of working dominions beyond the seas. But, though the country is administered by a Governor-General, he does not, as might be supposed, depend on the Colonial Office, neither do any of his reports pass through the hands of the Colonial Secretary. His tenure of office is, moreover most uncertain, and he is only appointed for a period of six months at a time, renewable at the end of each period, and this appointment is made by the Home Office (_Ministère de l’Intérieur_) in Paris, under whose jurisdiction he is.

At first this contradiction of things seems hard to understand, and one is forced to penetrate further into the inner workings of Algeria to understand. In the first place, North Africa—with the exception of Tunisia and Morocco, which are protectorates—is divided into three departments, with practically the same organization as in France. That is to say, each department sends to the Parliament in Paris one senator and two deputies, who are elected by the French inhabitants of the country and by those Arabs who have opted for French nationality.

These departments have their _préfets_ and _sous-préfets_, as in France, and the towns their mayors, with the municipal council, _juges de paix_, _commissaires de police_, etc. Thus up to this point the system of administration in the three departments is identical with that in the mother country.

The first slight difference we come upon is in the case of what are known as _communes mixtes_. These centers are those where the Arab population is in excess of the French. In this case the mayor is replaced by an _administrateur_. The area covered by the jurisdiction of this individual is much larger than the _commune_ under the mayor, and comprises numerous _douars_, or native villages. The _administrateur_, who wears a vague uniform, something between that of an officer and a lion-tamer, is trained specially for his post. He is assisted in his duties by an _administrateur adjoint_ and by a _commission municipale_. This _commission municipale_ is composed partly of Frenchmen elected in the area of the _commune mixte_, and partly of Arabs belonging to the various _douars_, who are appointed by the Governor-General. The _caïds_ and other Arab chiefs—of whom we will speak later—assist the _administrateur_ as his agents in their respective areas.

The _administrateur_ himself has certain powers of jurisdiction over Arabs, but all those who are French citizens have recourse to the ordinary civil power.

This, therefore, in a few words is the system of administration of Algeria proper, and it would all seem quite simple if we did not suddenly come face to face with the Governor-General. Here, in the midst of all this peaceful organization associated with the Great Revolution, we have Monsieur Le Gouverneur-Général, with his summer palace, his staff, his aides-de-camp, naval and military, flying the tricolor on his motor-car, while the guard turns out and presents arms. What has he to do with all the senators and deputies and _préfets_?

The answer is simple. For all practical purposes, nothing. He himself may be a French senator with his seat in the upper chamber; at the end of six months he may become a minister or he may be politely dismissed. And how often has the post of Governor-General of Algeria been held by some high functionary not wanted in France, or by one who is merely biding his time to take office again. The Governor-General, therefore, unless he be a man of exceptional value, can not really do very much for or against the welfare of the country, and the most important duties therefore devolve on a permanent official known as the _Secrétaire Général du Gouvernement_.

This gentleman—though he is usually not a man of great ambition, otherwise he would not be in this thankless post—has a great working knowledge of the country and its people, and it is he who keeps his superior in touch with all that is going on. But even he has nothing to do with the French civil administration, which belongs entirely to France.

On the other hand, there are three assemblies over which the Governor presides and which carry out on their own account a certain amount of the administration of the country. They are the _Conseil du Gouvernement_, dealing chiefly with the building of new villages, making of roads and railways, and generally opening up the colony; the _Délégations Financières_, composed of French colonists, French taxpayers, and a certain number of well-to-do Arabs. These financial delegates discuss the budget for Algeria, which incidentally, and contradictorily, is independent of France, as is also the Bank of Algeria, which prints its own banknotes. Finally we have the _Conseil Supérieur_ composed of twenty-two members: the _Procureur-Général_, the Admiral, the _préfets_ and a few Arabs of importance who meet once a year under the presidency of the Governor-General to vote the budget for Algeria.

But even here the Parliament in Paris is afraid of letting the wretched colony look after itself, and it insists upon ratifying the budget, without knowing anything about it.

Algeria, therefore, is not a colony, but part of France, administered in the same way as any French department, but under the care of the Governor-General appointed by the Home Office, who is all-powerful without having any real authority at all. The _communes_ are French or _mixtes_; the Arabs have a certain say in the government, but not much; the budget is separate, but under the scrutiny of the Palais Bourbon.

2. _Military_

All this seems complicated enough, but the mystery is not over—it deepens as we leave the northern districts of Algeria and move south. We have now seen the rôles of the various functionaries in the three departments of Constantine, Alger and Oranie, and we must turn to the area known as the Territoires du Sud.

The actual boundary between the departments and these southern territories varies somewhat, but it can be said roughly that anywhere two hundred miles from the coast one has passed out of civil control and into military. Thence these territories stretch away across the Sahara until the Niger is reached—great, open spaces with small fertile points where there is water. All this waste land is also under the Governor-General and his permanent staff in Algiers. There is one slight difference. Whereas if he were to make a speech to the townsfolk of some smiling vine center near Algiers he must ask the _Secrétaire-Général_ for the necessary data to address the multitudes, in the south he applies to the _Directeur des Territoires du Sud_. This functionary, who is often intelligent, has an enviable post, and if he is interested in the Great South, with its strange people, he can make a study under very advantageous circumstances. Here again, however, we have an anomaly, for, though the _Directeur des Territoires du Sud_ is responsible for their order, his administrators are all soldiers and the country south of the civil territory is under the strictest form of martial law. A little explanation on the system of government will perhaps make matters clearer.

The southern areas are divided into what are known as _Cercles Militaires_, and they may cover an area of one hundred square miles. The _Cercle_ is under a colonel and is subdivided into _annexes_, each under a captain, who is responsible to the colonel for his area. There are a number of officers attached to these annexes, all specially trained in their duties—in fact, from the colonel down, all the staff have passed through the school of the _affaires indigènes_ and have spent practically all their life in the south. For the future we will refer to the military administration as the Bureau Arabe, the name under which it goes in the south. To all intents and purposes the Bureau Arabe is all-powerful. Fines, fatigues, prison for all persons not having a European status are entirely in its hands. The court-martial convened has the power of life and death over the same category of persons; only Europeans and naturalized Arabs can appeal to the civil courts. The rule is harsh, sometimes unjust—it depends on the staff of the Bureau Arabe. The military in the various oases are commanded by regimental officers who have really nothing to do with the Bureau Arabe; they are just in the garrison as they might be in Algiers or Marseilles. But if the head of the _annexe_ requires them for any administrative or punitive purpose they are at his disposal.

A flock of sheep disappears, the owner complains, and, if he is considered sufficiently important to take notice of, a section of _spahis_ is sent off to trace the flock. Some one has to be ejected from his house—an N.C.O. and four tirailleurs carry out the unpleasant duty.

Unless an Arab carries a great deal of weight he is helpless if the Bureau Arabe decides against him. Apart from this, however, the chief of the _annexe_ has other more peaceful and useful duties. He has all the functions of the mayor to perform, and is surrounded by a municipal council. These worthies— who are partly Arabs, partly French and partly Jews—vote silly laws such as traffic regulations for the non-existent vehicles. They decide whether the main street shall be painted green or gold; they vote money to repair the roof of the colonel’s house. Their most important function is the distribution of water in the oasis. This, as will be explained in a later chapter, is a question of life and death in the long Sahara summer, and it requires infinite care to arrange it all. But, apart from this, the municipal council does little, and, though the _Chef d’Annexe_ occasionally performs a civil marriage, the law and order of the Great South rests in the hands of the military.

I use the word _order_ purposely, as it is through their presence that we can travel safely over those magnificent roads which they also have made across the rolling plains. For, though justice is sometimes miscarried, there is little chance of the bandit escaping if he commits highway robbery or murder on the roads of the Bureau Arabe.

These are, therefore, the pros and cons, and let it be said for these colonels and captains who have spent all the best years of their lives in the Sahara, that they are confronted by great difficulties, and that until the day when the Arab is emancipated and set on the same footing as his conquerors, the only method by which an end can be achieved is severity.

So far it will seem that we have left the realm of complication and entered that of straightforward government. A mere illusion.

Living in the same town and almost next door to the Bureau Arabe, we find the Juge de Paix, the Notaire, and the Commissaire de Police. What the first two can do to justify their existence is beyond the imagination. The Commissaire has functions which he exercises, but which seem quite unnecessary, as in all his actions he is entirely paralyzed by the Bureau Arabe.

For instance, if some petty crime is committed he can investigate it, but he can not condemn without the authority of the _Chef d’Annexe_. If one requires a gun-license one has to apply to the Commissaire de Police, but he must go to the Bureau Arabe to get it. He is in charge of the few native policemen who wander about the oases in search of crime and bribes, but, though the prison is next door to his office, it is guarded by the military.

It is all the same curious system which causes the Governor-General’s powers—extending across the Sahara, to the verge of Central Africa—to depend on the Home Office in Paris.

Moreover, we have not yet finished with all these different forms of administration, and in the next chapter I shall try to explain how the native functionaries aid in the government of the country.

Chapter VII

Arab Administration

1. _Through the Arab Chiefs_

It can be said that in the northern districts of Algeria, where civilian rule is supreme, the Arab chief’s position is more honorary than anything else. It is true that he holds the same titles as his brethren in the south and that he is responsible for an area comprising many _douars_, but his authority is very limited owing to his constant contact with the local _administrateurs_.

In the south it is very different. Here we are among the nomad tribes, who, though they have certain fixed limits of pasturage, roam over vast areas and great tracts of land, rarely remaining one week in the same place.

It would therefore be materially impossible for any European administration to deal directly with these people always on the move, and who have dialects and pronunciation which only an Arab can understand.

The French Government, therefore, appoints Arab chiefs, who, to all intents and purposes, rule over the nomads, and who are responsible for law and order among the people and for the levying of taxes. The head of the Arab chiefs, who is ruler over the whole tribe or confederation of tribes, is known as the _bash agha_. He is appointed by the Governor-General, and he is chosen for his authority, for his capacity as an administrator and for the name he bears.

It must be remembered, however, that though the Government tries as far as possible to appoint men of noble lineage, this is not necessarily done, and the Government does not recognize any sort of official succession from father to son. If the eldest son is considered worthy of the post he is probably appointed to take his father’s place, but cases occur where a distant relation, and sometimes an Arab chief of another family is brought in, if the actual ruling house is considered unworthy.

The _bash agha_ has under him one or two _aghas_ whom he recommends to the Bureau Arabe for appointment. One of the _aghas_ is often his eldest son, but here again there is no rule.

The confederation of tribes is divided into subtribes, which, though they each have their own name, all belong to the main clan. These differ in numbers, but the confederation is usually composed of from ten to twenty tribes. These tribes are estimated by the numbers of tents or heads of families they contain. They each represent about two thousand people and have at their head a _caïd_. It is, moreover, interesting to note that the _bash agha_ and the _aghas_ belong to one of these tribes of which they are honorary chiefs.

The _caïd_ is, as in the case of the _agha_, recommended by the _bash agha_ to the Bureau Arabe, who, if agreeable to the recommendation, passes it on to the Governor-General for confirmation. Here, again, they try as far as possible to select the _caïds_ from the same family as the _bash agha_. The appointment of the _caïd_ is most important, as it is he who is in direct touch with the tribe wherever it happens to be. He is assisted in his duties by the _khaliphat_, who does all the clerical work and who acts in the place of the _caïd_ when he is absent.

The _caïd’s_ tribe is subdivided into four or five “fractions,” each under a _sheik_. The _sheik_—about whom so much fantastic literature has been written, and who, though he may be a cultivated man, is usually so by accident—has a small command, and his authority depends on his personality. He can usually neither speak nor write French, and to the casual visitor differs in no way exteriorly from the poorest shepherd in his “fraction.” In fact, with the exception of a few _aghas_ and _caïds_ who are rich and who have come in contact with Europe, the Arab chief, with his silk-decked tent and his _smala_ of glorious beauties, wielding the powers of life and death at a moment’s notice, is a thing of the past. He shambles along on a rickety horse reminding one rather of the bull-ring, and he lives most of his life under a kind of awning which he calls a tent.

Since the war, the Government insists that the chiefs it appoints shall have passed the elementary standard at the local French school, but there are many _caïds_ of pre-war nomination who are completely illiterate and who have never lived anywhere but in a tent. Moreover, the official power of a chief is very limited. He is merely a functionary paid by the Government to assist it in its administrative duties in the south, and with this end in view he has the support of all those in authority.

Officially this is all. Unofficially there is a great deal more power wielded in the background, power used sometimes quite unscrupulously to attain a personal end. For example, the Bureau Arabe only recognizes the _bash agha_ and his subordinates. A crime occurs among the nomads, the _caïd_ of the tribe concerned is notified, and he sets about making his investigations. On his report alone the Bureau Arabe will act. There are, of course, many of these men who are scrupulously honest and who carry out their duties conscientiously, but there are others who do not, and there are certainly frequent miscarriages of justice through personal reasons.

There was a case where the _agha_ had a feud with a _sheik_ of his tribe. The _sheik_ was in the right; the _sheik_ tried to make trouble for the _agha_, and appealed to the French authority. The French authority gave the _sheik_ his right.

The _agha_ said nothing at the time, but a few weeks later he sent the _sheik_ on a mission, and while he was away he took his wife and kept her till he thought the vengeance sufficient. The _sheik_ was powerless to act, as the _agha_ had committed no crime in the eyes of the French law, and he knew if he made any more fuss that his life would not be safe. It is better for a nomad to keep in with his _caïd_ if he does not want to lose all he has.

Of course these cases are mainly exceptions, and the average _caïd_ does his duty conscientiously. There is one I know well who looks after his people so seriously that he is actually out of pocket when the end of the year comes round. The point to bring out, though, is the danger of giving too much power to people whose idea of justice is very primitive, and who in cases of vengeance are quite unscrupulous. Life and death to an Arab are less important than the evening meal, and it is difficult to say what would happen if ever they were given autonomy. It is a delicate question.

For the moment we must continue our examination of native administration.

2. _Through the Arab Functionaries_

Quite apart from the official chiefs appointed to assist the Bureau Arabe in the enforcement of the law, there are a number of functionaries who have nothing whatever to do with the French civil or military government of the country.

These functionaries exercise their duties in the north as well as in the south, wherever there are believing Mohammedans. They are appointed, of course, with the approval of the Governor-General, but they are chosen chiefly for their knowledge of Moslem laws and rites. In the north, as in the south, they are under the Arab chiefs, but their rulings on purely Arab questions are as final as those of a French civil or military court, and their religious doctrines are based on deep study of the laws of the Prophet.

They are divided into two categories. In the first are those who administer the law, in the second, those whose duties are religious. The young men who qualify for posts in the first category are those whose parents feel that they have a calling for higher things than being shepherds or laborers. While still learning the Koran by heart with the native teacher they are sent to the French school with the definite object of working. Here they are taught all elementary matters in the same way as a European child in a boarding-school, and at the age of sixteen they go up for an examination which, if they pass, gives them an entry into the Medersa.

The Medersa is a college in Algiers where the students study Mohammedan law for a period of six years. Some of those who pass carry their studies further, and go up for the examination for the French bar, but to those who are not so ambitious there are two openings. They can either become Interprètes Judiciaires—that is to say, interpreters in French courts, where Moslem law comes into contact with French law—or else they can definitely take up the Droit Musulman as a profession.

If the student merely passes out unbrilliantly, or even fails to get his diploma, he will probably become a _khodja_ in a Bureau Arabe or in some other French office dealing with Arabs. His duties will be to translate into Arabic all official despatches sent out to the tribes or _douars_, and likewise to translate into French all incoming Arab documents.

A successful candidate will, however, first of all find himself appointed to the post of _adel_, a kind of superior clerk in a native lawyer’s office, and from that he can rise to _bash adel_, or principal clerk. From the _bash adels_ are chosen the _kadis_. The _kadis_ have many functions, which in England would combine the duties of solicitor, official receiver, registrar, and judge, without the latter’s power of awarding punishment.

All native cases of jurisdiction are first of all brought before the _caïds_ and _aghas_ of the district. If they are crimes or cases with which he can not deal by compromise, he either sends them on to the Bureau Arabe or, if they are not criminal offenses, to the _kadi_. People who require arbitration can, of course, go direct to the _kadi_, but the nomad prefers the ruling of his _caïd_. The most usual cases to come before the _kadi_ are those of inheritance, lawsuits, sales of property, and family quarrels. He also marries and divorces those who wish it.

His decision is final, and even in questions between great chiefs they must either accept the _kadi’s_ ruling or else carry the case before the French tribunals, which is a lengthy and expensive procedure. In fact the _kadi_ is the decisive factor in all native disputes, in all family matters, and in all cases which do not actually incur definite punishment.

The _kadis_ themselves are usually charming people, cultivated, courteous, and full of a quiet sense of humor gathered amidst the comedies and tragedies of daily life which pass before them. Many of them have a great deal of moral influence, and are instrumental in bringing about reconciliations between foolish couples and quarreling families.

There are also learned men, called _talebs_, in Mohammedan centers. These natives teach the Koran in the schools and counsel others who want advice in legal matters. They have also the important function of writing and translating documents and letters for those illiterate natives who require their services, whether it be in French or in Arabic. On the same plane as the _kadi_, but without the same official education, are found those of the second category, mentioned above—the religious teachers.

First of all the _mufti_. The _muftis_ often have had a legal education and are consulted on Mohammedan law before taking cases before the _kadi_, in the same way as in England one goes to a solicitor, but they are chiefly authorities on religious rites, and they hold official positions at the mosques. Every Friday and on feast days they preach and expound the Koran at the midday and evening prayer. Their power has greatly diminished of late but their knowledge of Mohammedan scripture is profound. In cases where there is no _mufti_ the _kadi_ is regarded as the authority on religious matters.

The priest of the mosque is called the _imam_. He is in charge of all religious ceremonies, and when the collective prayer is said, the faithful follow him in all the chants and movements. He is sometimes an educated man, but it is not the general rule, and one often finds the _imam_ attending classes held by the _taleb_ to learn how to write and speak literary Arabic. (Literary Arabic in opposition to the bastard tongue spoken in North Africa.)

[Illustration: An Arab Barber]

[Illustration: Roasting the Lamb Whole]

[Illustration: Children Bathing in a Southern Oasis]

Then there is the _muezzin_, who is the verger of the mosque, and whose chief duty is to call the faithful to prayer.

There is no special costume for these different officials, but they usually wear somber or white burnouses, and one can always tell a learned man by the delicacy of his hands.

What strikes one most in all this Mohammedan administration is that it has not altered since the beginning of its creation, and that it has not been in the least degree influenced by contact with laws or customs of other countries.

Even in matters where the application of modern laws would be beneficial, such as in the question of inheritance which causes the greatest muddle imaginable, the old system of twelve hundred years ago is adhered to.

Now previously we noticed the apparent contradiction in the French administration of Algeria, which seemed to be rather overgoverned, and here we have another contradiction in the fact that these native functionaries are allowed to act with complete independence in all matters affecting their own laws. This is one of France’s wisest policies in Algeria, and it is of comparatively recent date.

At first the French did not realize the enormous importance of Islam in North Africa, but now that they have grasped it, they use their knowledge sagaciously.

The French administration of Algeria is complex, but it achieves its end, as the traveler will realize if, on marvelous roads, he traverses this immense country unmolested by the masses of wild men who live there.

I repeat again it is not the duty of a foreigner to criticize the government of another country, but merely to examine it and judge of the results.

Chapter VIII

Marabouts

Standing alone and quite apart from the native officials just mentioned are the _marabouts_. The name is derived from the Arab word _marabet_, which originally meant one who served as a soldier in a _rebat_ or fortress built on the frontier of Mohammedan countries as defense against the infidel, and which became a base of attack against Christian neighbors.

In the forts the moslem soldiers gave themselves over to acts of piety. When the days of holy war had passed the _rebats_ were converted into religious buildings, and a _marabet_ was, therefore, a holy man, an apostle of Mohammed.

_Marabouts_ in North Africa are now holy men who claim direct descent from Mohammed. There are a few who by that virtue alone become _marabouts_, and it can be imagined, therefore, that there are a considerable number of these saints in Algeria. Any Arab village which respects itself has a _marabout_ or two buried in the cemetery, and a great many have them living on the premises. They have no official position, and their influence depends entirely on their own personality. In some cases they are great figures wielding an enormous amount of power, which is utilized by the French Government for its own ends, and they are incidentally treated with much consideration.

On the other hand, as practically all the male children of _marabouts_ inherit the title, there are many who are completely insignificant, I will even say unscrupulous and immoral, and who live on what they can make out of the poor and credulous followers of the Prophet. They are not always educated, and though they have probably studied the Koran their knowledge on other matters is very rudimentary. Many of them profess to be doctors, and though their methods are very primitive, wonderful cures have been known at their hands, chiefly owing to the faith of those treated.

They are almost all rich men, owning flocks in the sheep-breeding areas, date-palms in the far south, and extensive properties in the north. This wealth comes from the offerings of the faithful in return for blessings and prayers for their welfare.

This, of course, leads to a great deal of abuse, and there are very many of these holy men who reap in hoards of wealth which they spend on sumptuous living. Moreover, as it is supposed to be an act of grace to be in the following of a _marabout_ their servants are not paid, and are practically slaves whose lives are in the hands of their master. They are beaten or punished at will with no redress, as it is rare that information leaks out officially to the French authorities, who prefer to interfere as little as possible with these holy men, whose religion seems, in their own eyes, to absolve them from all acts of unrighteousness.

They drink alcohol, they rape, they live in the utmost disorder, imposing unscrupulously on the believing faithful. If they find people who oppose them they cast spells on them or curse them into eternity, and the number of credulous folk who believe in this is extraordinary.

Some of them are good at sleight of hand and perform childish conjuring tricks which leave their followers in a state of gibbering astonishment. I remember once confounding a fairly decent type of _marabout_ who conjured before me by explaining the trick. But, though he was rather upset, I saw that the people’s faith was not in the least shaken. Naturally the well-to-do Arabs of good family do not respect these law-breaking saints, and say that though their ancestry must be considered, they can not be regarded as real _marabouts_, whose lives are examples to all the faithful.

However, against these rogues there are many exceptions: men of great piety who spend a good deal of time and money in relieving the suffering of the poor, and who have devoted a great part of their existence to the study of sacred writings, while in practise they strictly follow the principles of the Koran.

All _marabouts_, disorderly or otherwise, are at the head of what is known as a _zaouia_. A _zaouia_ is supposed to be a kind of retreat for men and women, but chiefly women, who are tired of worldly things. They give up all they have, be it one sheep or a large-acred property, to the _marabout_, and in return are clothed, lodged and fed for the rest of their lives in spiritual beatitude. They also have to work, tilling his land, looking after his horses, weaving carpets and burnouses, etc., the produce of their work being nominally used to raise further money to help the needy.

In the case of the conscientious _marabouts_ this is done, but the practise is also a source of personal revenue to the unscrupulous. However, good and bad alike, they all have that Arab spirit of hospitality and charity, and any person, rich or poor, can always claim lodging and board with the blessing of the holy man.

The _zaouias_ are occasionally a sort of seminary where young men who wish to be _muftis_ or _imams_ go to study, but since the creation of competitive examinations at the Medersa the pupils of the teaching _zaouias_ have greatly diminished.

Occasionally one comes across female _marabouts_. As a general rule they are not much respected by the educated Arabs, and their field of action lies chiefly among the poor women who believe that they have miraculous powers to cure diseases and ward off the evil eye. These women are sometimes, though not always, the wives of _marabouts_, and they are also the children of holy men who have no sons. There have been two very notable ladies of maraboutic standing, Lalla Zineb, of El Hamel, near Bou Saada, and Lalla Aurelie Tidjani, of Aïn Mahdi, near Laghouat.

The _marabout_ is married in exactly the same way as any other Arab, and if he is sufficiently wealthy he keeps a well-stocked harem. Cases occur when the sons of _marabouts_ do not take on their father’s title but live like ordinary citizens. There are also a few descendants of the Prophet who have never been _marabouts_ because they say that their ancestors were never inspired by Heaven; but, generally speaking, the position of a holy saint is too tempting to let slip by.

I have a great friend who is a _marabout_. His name is Hadj Mohktar, and he lives at Chellala, on the rolling plain above the Sahara. He is a dignified old gentleman, about sixty years old; though like most Arabs he does not know his age. His eyes, which are piercingly black, twinkle merrily when he is amused; he has a good sense of humor and a brain far superior to that of most of his caste.

He has been twice to Mecca, but this does not stop him from drinking a glass of wine when it is offered to him. He is rich and has some of the finest flocks in North Africa.

One night, hearing that I was at the hotel, he came up to see me after dinner. I offered him some champagne, which he drank with evident pleasure. After a little preliminary talk about the prospects of sheep-breeding that year, he asked me if I would care to take a walk with him in the village. I accepted, expecting to be taken to a gathering of learned _muftis_, but to my surprise we wended our way to the reserved quarters of the native dancing-girls. Our entry into the house we sought caused, to say the least of it, a sensation. The girls precipitated themselves towards the old man and kissed his shoulder and his turban. Cushions were brought, carpets and rugs, and a throne was made for him. I was accommodated with a stool at his feet. A tray was brought with honey cakes and milk, but the _marabout_ waved it all away.

“Bring me beer,” he commanded.

Beer was brought and we solemnly clinked glasses. Dancing-girls from the neighboring houses appeared and kissed his turban. A few men drifted in, but seeing who was present, discreetly disappeared.

The _marabout_ turned to me solemnly and said: “In your country do you have dancing-girls as in North Africa?”

I shook my head.

“Neither did we before the French came. Your people have much wisdom,” he replied. “They are Christians, are they not?”

“Yes,” I said, “but there are also Jews in my country, and in our dominions there are Mohammedans and Hindus and Buddhists.”

The old man’s eyes fixed themselves on me.

“But are there, then, other sects than Mohammedan, Christian, and Jew?”

“Oh yes,” I went on, and I tried to give him a rough outline of the other faiths of the world. He listened to me in silence.

“You are very young,” he said at last, “but you have the wisdom of a great _marabout_.”

He spoke no more, and sat fingering the coral beads from Mecca, deep in meditation. I sat quiet, too, contemplating the amazing scene before me. The dark blue and red carpets, the flickering candles casting grotesque shadows on the ceiling, the flaming colors of the girls’ dresses as they sat in a semi-circle contemplating their noble guest, while their bracelets and anklets gleamed in the dark corners of the room.

Suddenly the old man turned to me again.

“You have a great doctor called Voronoff, have you not?” he asked.

“Well, he does not come from my country, but he is a European,” I replied.

“I have studied his teaching,” went on the old man. “Can he really rejuvenate the old?”

“For a short time I believe,” I said, “but I have really not gone deeply into the question. Personally I do not quite see the value of being made to live beyond our appointed time.”

The old man smiled.

“You are wise, but you are young. When you feel the weight of years weighing on you, you will wish again to have all your vitality, all your faculties. And yet our death is destined, and what can a human do? _Mektoub!_”

He bowed his head and seemed again lost in meditation.

“Youth fades rapidly, and old age lasts long,” he said at last. Then, rising, he moved toward the door.

Outside a warm breeze struck our faces, the stars seemed large and bright in the dark heavens; over there, down the street, one could hear the deep notes of the Arab flute drawing out its plaintive tune, the rhythmical beat of the _tam-tam_ struck our ears.

“They play a melody of the far south,” he said. “It is very beautiful, it is very sad. The heart of the Arab dominated is sad. I will leave you. May Allah bless and keep you young long. To-morrow we will visit my flocks. _Inch Allah_.”

He held out his hand, pressed mine, raised his fingers to his lips and then placed them on his breast. He flung the white burnous over his shoulder and disappeared into the night.

The note of the flute drifted up with the wind, and I walked back to the hotel with a feeling of great peace of mind.

Chapter IX

The Arab Character

Before studying a country and its people it is essential to endeavor to arrive at some conclusion regarding that people’s character.

All nations have their outstanding characteristics, characteristics which will always make it so difficult to carry out the ideals of the Bolshevik or even to make efficacious the worthy efforts of the League of Nations.

The Briton, adventurous, conservative, law-abiding; the Frenchman with his horizon and ambitions limited by his home and his family circle, his thrifty instincts, his sentimental patriotism; the German, persevering and disciplined, believing only in himself—give us at once well defined mentalities. The man in the street knows this, the most advanced idealist can not deny it, so that the various nations of Europe remain, as hitherto, defined nations.

It is not possible, however, to say this of the Arab, for though the words _Inch Allah_, (If God wills it), is the main doctrine of the Mohammedan, it is not absolutely Arab. In the first place, who are the Arabs? A race originating in Arabia is the obvious and not entirely erroneous reply. But the Arab is more than this, for since Mohammed appeared and made of his nomad followers a great force the race has passed through a great many evolutions.

There is not space in this book to write a long treatise on this subject, but to those whom this matter interests let me recommend the works of Lothrop Stoddard and Gustave le Bon.

For the moment we are dealing mainly with the character of the Arab of Algeria, or rather the character of the real Arab of the South, and not that of the Europeanized waster one meets in the big centers, or of the effeminate and overcivilized chiefs one sees at tourist-infested centers such as Biskra and Bou Saada.

With few exceptions those men have lost all their fundamental principles and are but the apes of a rather poor class of European. The real Arab of the South belongs to a race to himself, and in spite of this very definite personality his character is difficult to study to any satisfactory conclusion.

Those who have attempted the task will put forward various reasons for this difficulty, but I am certain that the main obstacle is the way in which the question is envisaged.

It is out of the question to try to look at this people from any Western standpoint, utterly impossible because the whole of the conception of life is different from ours. In Europe and America of to-day it is the laws which follow the evolution of the people. As the races become more emancipated, more educated, they require new laws to suit the new conditions of life. Among the Arabs it is the reverse.

Mohammed made the laws, laws which were good and which in many cases remain good, but it must be remembered that they were more applicable to the days of the Arab splendor than to the daily life of the Faithful in the twentieth century.

How can one then attempt to look at these people as having any sort of relationship with us, how can we place ourselves in their position and look through their eyes? It is impossible.

All that we can do, if bent on this study, is to live among them and try to understand their reasoning. This I have attempted to do, and the conclusions I have drawn are set down here for what they may seem worth.

The Arab is primarily before all the world a man of great calm and dignity. His dignified walk down the street in his long robes is typical of his attitude in both private and public life. I have heard the foolish remark:

“Well, he could not hurry anyway in those cumbersome clothes!”

Perhaps not, but has an Arab ever been seen to hurry with his meals, with his prayers, with his ablutions? Does an Arab ever break into a trot or a canter when riding without some definite object of winning a race or hunting game? Never. The Arab eats, prays, washes, rides as slowly as he walks; the humblest shepherd will look dignified while some millionaire sheep-merchant shouts and gesticulates over the price of a ewe.

After his dignity we notice his courtesy. An Arab is never rude deliberately. He may be insincere and say what he thinks will please, but he will endeavor not to jar on any one’s sensitiveness.

His temper is quick where honor is concerned, and he will strike with the knife or shoot with the gun if the matter deserves his attention.

His hospitality is proverbial. No one coming to his house at the hour of a meal will be left waiting; rich man or poor man, relative or infidel, he will be asked to come in to share the repast. There are many chiefs I know who never sit down less than twelve to dinner year in, year out, and usually the number is more like twenty.

Charity and fraternal equality, being the chief principles of the Koran, are carried out rigorously. A beggar is never turned away empty handed, no man is despised because he is poor or not of a great family; at the same time those men well-born are very proud of their names and titles, and will tell you at length all about their lineage. One of the questions the chiefs always ask one when meeting some European is:

“Is he, or she, of good family?”

Often and again has my friend and partner in sheep-breeding said, referring to my lonely life in the oasis:

“What you ought to do is to return to England and marry somebody well-born, somebody we can know.”

The arrogance of it! And yet there is not the slightest tone of superiority in the statement. It is a foregone conclusion that I must realize that they could not have some one sharing their intimacy who was not a lady by birth.

“All that counts is the blood,” is another of their favorite phrases; “we are all brothers, but it is the great families who give the example to the less fortunate.”

With this, however, they are very simple in their tastes. It is true that they enjoy putting on their scarlet burnouses smothered in decorations for official parties, and that they have a very extensive wardrobe, but they get tired of their finery in a few hours and return gladly to their more simple daily dress. Their life at home is not at all sumptuous. Few sleep in beds, practically none eat with knives and forks, and the meals, though sometimes lengthy, are all homely dishes cooked by their womenfolk.

Generally speaking, laziness is predominant in the Arab. A few work very hard, but they are in a great minority. The remainder do nothing which is not necessary for their livelihood, and those who are obliged to earn their daily bread just earn it and no more. This is partly due to the climate and partly to the precept of the Koran, which forbids man to provide for the future as, in so doing, he will lack faith in the infinite power of God alone.

Sportsmen they all are—loving a gun and a horse more than anything else in the world, and ready for any form of hunting.

These, roughly, are the good points in their character, and we must perforce turn to the other side of the picture. To the uninitiated the calm mask of haughty indifference which characterizes their faces conceals a great deal of Oriental wisdom. I do not think this is the case. From an intellectual point of view the Arab is densely stupid, very ill-read and utterly inartistic. With an Arab of good upbringing there are two subjects which he can discuss—religion and sport. If he is interested in business he will talk about his own particular line but nothing else. They have not heard of the most world-famed authors. Shakespeare, Goethe, Voltaire, are not even names to them except when they happen to have been applied to streets which they have frequented.

Music outside their own is an unknown quantity; pictures other than photographs of people they know do not exist. All that which counts for us in the literary, musical, artistic world is as complete a blank to them as a Babylonian cuneiform to an able seaman.

It is staggering sometimes to realize their ignorance. Even those who have been to the French Lycée do not seem to have absorbed anything beyond reading, writing, arithmetic and a little geography. And yet they travel abroad. They go to France, some go to England and Switzerland, and what do they bring back? A recollection of streets and people and race-meetings and gaming-tables.

“_Un point, c’est tout!_”

I think that the appellation of “Wise Men of the East” as it applies to Arabs must come from their profound knowledge of the Koran and its precepts, which in many ways imbues them with utterances of some depth and of a veiled meaning.

I do not say that they would be better off if they had all our Northern learning; probably not. I merely set down what is a fact about the reverse side of the impenetrable mask!

In business the Arab is honest if it is worth while. That is to say, the poor and uneducated shopman or pedler will cheat as much as possible, but the well-to-do merchant or landowner will not risk his name to gain a little more unless he is quite sure of passing undetected. This, however, applies in some degree to most races.

The nomads in their sheep deals are usually quite straight.

The Arab has a sense of humor and will tell a good story; he will lie when required, but it is very rare to find one who will do so on oath with his hand on the Koran.

One side of the Arab is rather unpleasant, and let it be said at once that it applies more to those who have come in contact with Europeans than to others. I refer to their dealings with European women. Their own are sacred subjects not to be mentioned, whose names and position are respected, but the European woman, and chiefly American and English women, do not share the same regard. This again is greatly due to the foolish attitude of a minority of Anglo-Saxon women who come to the country and are carried away by the glamour of the surroundings, by the starlit nights and the graceful robes of their admirers. If only they could see these men, as I have sometimes in Europe, in bowler hats, they would shudder at the contrast. Now they only see them in their robes under the African sky and—well, they fall very easily.

The only altercation I have had with my Arab friends has been on this subject. A common remark one often hears is:

“_Oh, les Anglaises!_” or “_Oh, les Americaines!_” and a knowing wink. French women and Italian have not this reputation, and what is so lamentable is that through the fact of a few of our race acting in this way, believing they are far from home and unnoticed, these morals are attributed to us in general.

There is little else to add about the Arab; some of these remarks have been elaborated in subsequent chapters, other points dealing with the superstitious side of the character have been raised.

One little story to illustrate the childish side of their nature seems appropriate here:

I was sitting one evening some years ago in the Casino at Biskra with a _caïd_ friend of mine. As we sat sipping our coffee an Englishwoman, whom I knew vaguely, came in, and the _caïd_ pointed her out to me excitedly, asking many questions about her. I gave him all the information I could, and it then transpired that he was deeply in love with her, but that as she could not speak any French their conversation was somewhat limited. He sat for a while and then, turning, asked me rather diffidently if I would teach him a few words which would express to the object of his passion all he felt.

I was rather amused at his anxious tone and laughingly gave him the following formula:

“I love you.

“Kiss me.

“Forgive me.

“Forget me.”

He repeated it again and again until he had got it quite fixed in his mind, and then left me, presumably to offer it to the lady. I did not see my friend again nor the lady, so I do not know how the courtship, based on my nine words, fared, but one day some years after this incident I was reading a novel, written also long after the little English lesson, by an author who could not have known of the incident; the scene was laid at Biskra; a fictitious _agha_ was speaking:

. . . “I am learning English,” he said gently; “tell me, please, if my pronunciation is correct.” And in a curiously indefinable accent he proceeded to recite the little set piece that some one had mischievously taught him:

“Love me.

“Kiss me.

“Forgive me.

“Forget me.” . . .[1]

The Arab mind had learned nothing more, but he had kept that sentence fixed in his brain to repeat when the opportunity presented itself!

They are all children, delightful children who never grow up.

Twelve hundred years ago they came to Algeria with their customs and their clothes and their sheep, and they are still in the same place with the same customs and the same clothes and the same breed of sheep. And, _Inch Allah_, they will be there in the same way when Jesus comes to judge the faithful.

Footnotes:

[Footnote 1: Quotation from _Make Believe_, by Clare Sheridan.]

Chapter X

Life Among The Arabs

We must now turn our attention to the inner life among the Arabs, to their customs, to their religious observances; and though it is always difficult for a foreigner, and especially a foreigner in a Mohammedan country, really to see the life as lived by its people, it is believed that sufficient intimacy has been developed between the author and the Arabs to give a very accurate picture of what goes on among them.

The word “Arab” will be used, as it is not intended in this chapter to touch again on the subject of the pure Berber, mentioned before; neither is it considered necessary to mention the Europeanized natives who have adapted themselves to a great extent to the life of the big commercial towns of the north and who are all in favor of the Young Turk Movement and the modernizing of the excellent systems handed down to them by their ancestors.

These pages will be devoted to the average Arab household living either in the native quarters of the smaller _communes mixtes_, in the farms or away in the southern oases and under the tent in the Sahara.

The first thing which strikes one very forcibly is the extraordinary respect shown to the head of the family. It is usual for a great many people of one family to live in the same house, but it is only the head who counts. Moreover, among the nomads the _caïd_ of the tribe estimates his people by heads of families. In the home the father reigns supreme; he usually has his meals apart or with his eldest son. In some cases there are three groups of diners, the chief with the older men and the guests, the sons and their friends, and the retainers. The food is brought in and placed before the first group, who eat what they want, then it is passed to the second group, and finally to the third. After dinner the older men talk and laugh and smoke, but the younger men will either sit quiet or, if they want to talk and smoke, they will go outside. In the presence of the head of the family the younger generation show the utmost deference; it is unusual for them to sit down when in conversation with their father, and they never smoke in his presence.

If a dinner-party is being given and some light or inappropriate subject of conversation is brought up in the presence of the father and son, the son will endeavor to change the subject or even leave the room. Apart they will tell as good a story as any one, but together it is not considered respectful. Should a chief come into a café with friends, and a younger member of the family happen to be there, the latter will leave immediately so as to lay no restraint on the older man. Many is the time when Europeans, ignorant of all this etiquette, have asked a party of Arabs to dinner and have suddenly found that four or five of the party have not put in an appearance. The host may be hurt, he may be puzzled, but the solution of the riddle is easy—those four or five guests have found out that one of the party was a senior man with whom they could not sit down at table.

In return for all this the head of the family looks after the whole of the welfare of his descendants, and any relatives are welcome to eat and reside in his house or tent as long as they like.

By nature the Arab is very easy-going. Even the shopkeepers do not worry people to buy, and will often tell a customer that the article he requires is not stocked rather than interrupt a conversation with a friend over the counter. Their prices are usually rather vague, and bargaining is quite normal, the result of the deal depending a great deal on the mood of the shopkeeper. If the deal is not brought off there is no ill-feeling, and the customer will often be asked to come in and drink a cup of tea.

The very poor people, and there are a great many, live on charity and the wages of odd jobs, but it is amazing to see how body and soul hang together with practically no clothes or substantial nourishment.

Their occupations and pastimes are varied. They are either landowners in the northern districts, or sheep-farmers and date-growers in the south—all very profitable occupations and the source of great fortunes quite unsuspected by the visitor. In their leisure they ride and hunt with falcons, and shoot; they enjoy horse-racing and everything to do with riding, and though a great many of them have motor-cars they consider them merely as conveniences, and the greatest ambition of a young Arab is to own a horse.

As in all Oriental countries, European vices become exaggerated, and once a native starts gambling or drinking he does little else.

Otherwise their existence is very simple, and the way they spend their days is adapted to nature and very healthy. An Arab gets up early and also quickly. This is due to two reasons. The first is that he does not usually sleep in a bed, but on a rug on the floor with another rug over him; the second is that he does not wash on rising, and he very often goes to sleep in his clothes. How many times have I been away in out-of-the-way places with Arab friends, either shooting or attending sheep-markets; coffee has been ordered for five A. M. They have somehow vaguely wakened me at four-forty-five, and at four-fifty-five my companions have appeared, all dressed, to ask why I wasn’t ready! And my reply has always been the same:

“Because I have a strange and curious habit of undressing when I go to bed and of shaving when I rise.” And it _is_ considered a strange and curious habit. But that does not mean that these Arabs are dirty in their persons—far from it. Before and after meals they wash their hands and faces, before their prayers they do the same; sometimes they take a bath. Regularly once a week they go to the _hammam_, or steam bath, where there is an unlimited quantity of hot water, and where they wash from head to foot, and there is nothing cleaner than washing in a Turkish bath. Moreover, there are first-rate masseurs who for a moderate fee take pounds of fat off the patient in an hour.

What I have never been able to discover is how often the average Arab changes his underclothing. The exterior dress is often sent to the laundry and I have an idea that in many cases the change is made four times a year, at the various seasons. Speaking of clothes, it may perhaps interest the reader to know of what an Arab’s garments consist:

Next to the skin there is a shirt; there are socks, there are sometimes drawers, a pair of baggy trousers and leather slippers, rather like unfinished pumps and not embroidered as may be supposed. Embroidery on shoes is considered effeminate and can only be worn on the long red boots used for riding. Over the shirt is usually a sweater and over that a jacket; it may be a smart embroidered affair with many buttons, or it may be a simple tunic, or it may be a European coat, but it does not matter much as it is entirely covered by the _gandourah_, which is like a long white nightgown with a low neck, made of wool or silk or cotton.

On the head is a turban which consists of three separate pieces—the _gannoure_, which is the high framework made of felt on which is placed the _chech_, which entirely covers it, surrounds the face, covers the neck, and is tucked away inside the coat. Round the _chech_ is wound either a band of silk or else the camel’s hair cords, known as _khiete_. The origin of the wearing of cords was for the purpose of always having a rope handy to attach to any receptacle to draw water from the wells in the Sahara.

Over the whole thing the Arab wears one or two burnouses. These are long cloaks with a hood and are made of wool, camel’s hair, silk or cloth. The poor shepherd possesses only a woolen or camel’s hair cloak, but the well-to-do chief has in addition to his rough burnous for country wear one made of silk over which he wears one of blue or green or maroon cloth embroidered with silver or gold. It is a most convenient garment, as in winter it keeps the wearer warm and the hood pulled over the turban protects him from rain. Moreover, when it gets hot one or both burnouses can be removed. At night they take the place of rugs or blankets.

During the morning the Arab will go about his business either in the town or out on the plain. If he is at home he will eat a light lunch at eleven-thirty, but this is not an important meal, and out on the Sahara he will content himself with a piece of bread and some milk. Time to an Arab is a very vague convention once he has got up. At first it exasperates the European who has been brought up to regular habits, but one realizes little by little that one’s exasperation is a complete mystery to them, and one gives up worrying about punctuality. It is very annoying sometimes when one has made all one’s plans to begin a long excursion early in the morning to find the start fixed for noon, or to invite a lot of men for dinner at seven-thirty and find some arrive at six-thirty, some at eight-thirty, and some not at all!

[Illustration: _Photographs by Mr. Julian Sampson_ A “Propriétaire”]

[Illustration: Numidian Type: Musician of a Marabout]

[Illustration: A Moorish Villa]

That is another custom which it takes a long time to understand, and one is left hurt that people invited do not arrive, and often do not even make an excuse or consider that one is necessary. It comes from the fact that in all their houses dinner is always going for a dozen or so of people, and one more or less does not count. Every one sits down when the meal is ready, and no one troubles to count the guests. Of course this does not apply to a regular invitation to dinner made with the definite purpose of meeting some one or listening to music; in cases like that no one would dream of being discourteous. At the same time it is very rare for an Arab definitely to accept or refuse an invitation. To your request that he will take a meal with you to-morrow he will reply, _“Inch Allah”_—“If God wills it”!

Against this, if you are on friendly terms with the Arabs, you can arrive about meal time—no surprise will be shown, and you will squat down and share the meal as if it were your daily habit. In the same way, if some man came in to see one about six-thirty in the evening he would expect to be asked to dine, which is often awkward in a European household.

If the Arab has eaten a midday meal he will probably sleep for an hour after, and then continue doing what he has to. About six-thirty comes the dinner, and this meal is important. There is always the highly spiced soup with pieces of meat floating about, usually another dish of meat and vegetables, and always the _kous-kous_, with more meat. They drink water or milk, for even those who are in the habit of taking wine and spirits rarely do so in their own houses if Europeans are not there. After dinner they drink their mint tea or coffee, and friends come in to see them, or they go out themselves and sit in the shops or cafés and drink more tea, and talk and laugh until it is time to go to bed.

Their meals are eaten on the floor. They keep a kind of narrow mattress on which they sit, and the dishes are placed on a small table about a foot high known as a _maïda_. A common napkin some eight feet long is placed on their knees all round the circle. All the food, except the soup and sometimes the _kous-kous_, is eaten with the hand, and before the meal and after, soap and warm water are carried round and every person washes his hands and face. It is said that these ablutions bring prosperity. There are usually no glasses, and a common mug is handed round from which sips are taken.

Of course, when receiving guests of note, or Europeans, the meal is much more sumptuous, and among the Europeanized chiefs there is a gaudy dining-room kept for the friends from over the seas. Crockery of all kinds is produced, knives and forks, a jumble of wines and a general atmosphere of inconsequent confusion. But the meal is excellent, though sometimes a trifle long.

This is an average menu for a short dinner:

_Chorba_. Soup with vermicelli, highly spiced.

_Bourak_. Mutton minced with mint and sage, rolled up in a light pastry—this is a kind of sausage roll.

_Leham Lalou_. A kind of mutton stew in a dark sauce, cooked with prunes and sweet almonds. The words mean sweetmeat.

_Mechoui_. The lamb roasted and served whole. Even to Europeans no knives or forks are issued, and it must be torn to pieces with the hands.

_Kous-kous_. Looks like semolina and is made of hard wheat kneaded into tiny round balls and steamed. With it is served a kind of vegetable soup called _marga_, a highly spiced sauce, and often mutton or chicken. There are countless varieties of _kous-kous_ varying according to localities.

_Heloua_. Sweets and cakes made of flour and honey and almond paste and orange water.

There are many other alternative dishes; game often appears, but as a general rule the _chorba_, the _mechoui_, and the _kous-kous_ are _de rigueur_ for the set dinner. In the place of the sheep there may occasionally appear a gazelle, and if an Arab wants to show his deepest respect for you he will serve a baby camel roasted whole. But this is very rare.

Generally speaking, therefore, the Arab’s life is very simple and peaceful. He is courteous and hospitable, a rather lazy country gentleman, not very intelligent, but wiser and more philosophical than many Europeans on problems of daily life. Men who lay tremendous stress on points of honor, and who rarely forgive an injustice or an insult, disliking any sort of encroachment by non-Mohammedans, they have drifted into inertia behind the precepts of the Koran.

“What Allah has destined will occur, so why worry?”

Chapter XI

Arab Women

Having now cast a cursory glance over the life of the Arab man, let us look into the inner life of the homestead—that is to say, the life of the women, of the children, and of the servants. Placing them in the same category does not in the least suggest that the Arab woman is in any way a slave. Far from it. This is quite a fallacy, which must be added to the list of legends to be dispelled in this book.

With the exception of the Kabyles, the women in Algeria have almost as many rights as the men. They are, of course, not nearly so free as European women, and they are often obliged to share the home with other wives, but, as they have been brought up to know no other mode of living, they do not wish for anything else.

We will take as an example the life of an Arab girl belonging to a respectable family of moderate means. The daughters of the family when little girls will help their mother in the household duties, accompany her when she goes out, learn to cook and to weave and all the duties of a good housewife. Sometimes they are sent to the convent of the White Sisters, where they earn a little money and are taught to make carpets on regular lines. The Sisters will give them a rudimentary education, but it will only take the form of lectures on morality and hygiene. It is very, very rare to find an Arab girl who can read or write. As soon as she reaches a marriageable age offers will be made to her father by the fathers of eligible young men, and if any union seems opportune terms will be discussed.

Apart from guaranteeing the bride a home, with enough to live on, it is usual for the bridegroom’s parents to pay a sum down and for the bridegroom to give his bride a trousseau, while she in return will bring a dowry of a few household goods and golden jewelry—family heirlooms, which may be of great value. When all is arranged the date of the marriage is fixed, and up to the actual first contact bride and bridegroom will not see each other. The young man however often sends his female relatives to inspect the young woman and to report on her appearance. The wedding lasts for seven days and is conducted at the girl’s home and at the man’s. For a week the bride’s mother will entertain all her friends and the friends of her daughter, while the bridegroom is giving parties to his companions. After the formality of going to the _kadi_ the husband has access to the bride. She is brought to his house and let into a room where he is hiding behind the curtains or under the bed. When she is alone he suddenly leaps out and seizes her. This is the first time they meet face to face.

After a quarter of an hour or so an old woman comes in, makes an examination, and informs the assembled guests that the marriage has been consummated, and cries of joy are uttered and the newly married couple separate. It is not until the end of the feast that the husband and wife live entirely together. Once she is with her husband she sets about making his home comfortable. If they are well off she will keep a female servant to do all the rough work such as sweeping and polishing, but the preparing of the meal is always done by her. The food is carried by her to her husband, and he eats alone. She has her meals apart or with the other wives.

In the case where a man is already married the new wife, though she may be the husband’s favorite, will take a secondary place with the other wives, who will give her all the odd jobs to do. If she is tactful she will be nice to them, and if she is clever she will get her husband into her hands and make him dispose of the other wives. As a matter of fact, this sort of intrigue is getting rare. In the first place, polygamy is on the decline; this is due partly to the contact of soldiers with the European method of living during the war, and partly from reasons of economy. In cases where the first wife is getting old—and Arab women get old very quickly—she is often glad to have a young wife as a help.

In the homes of well-to-do Arabs the women are kept under lock and key, and they practically never go out for a walk. They will be taken for drives in closed carriages or motors, and occasionally they will pay visits at nights to their women friends, but they go heavily veiled and accompanied by many attendants. Once a week they go to the Turkish bath, and once a week to the cemetery. Sometimes among the poorer class the women are forced to go out to do their shopping, but they are veiled from head to foot, and even this is rare, as the husband usually does the marketing on his way to and from work.

All this caution, however, does not prevent intrigue and infidelity, which is facilitated by old women and friends. A visit to another girl is arranged, the visit is made, but there is another exit, and the woman goes to see her lover. Unfortunately this is also becoming common among unmarried girls who escape the supervision of their parents.

However, in really good families the women are usually straight, and they know, moreover, how to keep their husbands. In fact, the wife is very much the mistress in her own home, and she lets her man have just enough liberty and no more.

The laws of divorce are very broad, and are on an equality for men and for women. The first case for separation is that of the couple who, after three days of marriage, go before the _kadi_ and ask for their release, because they realize that they can’t stand the sight of each other. In this case they each take back what they gave and return to their respective homes free, and shortly marry again.

The other main bases for divorce are the same as in Europe, but there are also excuses which make things much easier than with us. For instance, if a woman complains that her husband is out every night and does not come home till midnight or so, the _kadi_ will pronounce the necessary decree. In this case the wife keeps all the man has given her, and he also pays the eleven francs which is the fee for dissolution of marriage. A man gets his divorce at once if he finds that his bride is not the _pure jeune fille_ he supposed her to be. This entails many complications and family feuds, but, as it is hard to prove, it is usually allowed to go by. There are cases of divorce after long years of marriage, and there are cases of the reunion of divorced parties who have lived separated for long.

The main point to realize is the facility of getting judicially separated, and the fact that the woman has just as many rights as the man.

Of course the life the wife leads if she is humble and docile is not very amusing. In addition to cooking she must weave burnouses and carpets, either for the home or, if they are poor, for sale, and the man, having the position of lord and master before the world, takes advantage of his wife’s docility if he can. But then this happens in Europe!

As a matter of fact, the Arab man is not a bully, and one notices that whenever he goes to the sheep and cattle markets he always buys something for his wife, and with his children he is very kind and thoughtful.

The wives of the nomads lead very much the same life as their sisters in the towns, the only difference being that they do not veil themselves when out in the plain.

It is not permitted for a woman to go to the mosque, and it is unusual for them to say their prayers—in fact, their ignorance of anything outside the homestead is complete. It is perhaps because of this that they make good wives and do not hanker after the supposed joys of the great world.

There is one flaw in all this peaceful life, and that is the state of widowhood. When the husband dies the woman has nothing, unless she has been allowed to put money aside herself or has property of her own. She may be the wife of a _marabout_ or of an _agha_—the moment she is a widow she loses all her status. There are three alternatives open to her. The first is to go on living with her sons, if they are big enough to keep her; the second to return to her family or to that of her husband, if they are alive and willing; or thirdly, to marry again. In well-to-do families the first two alternatives are the most followed, but the third is not common, as, though, curiously enough, a man will marry a divorced girl, he rarely mates himself with a widow.

Of course, if the woman has independent means it is a different story; but this is rare, and if none of the above openings are possible her fate is very sad. A lone woman is regarded as having no position, and she must at once make one for herself. Here again she has three further alternatives: to enter the local _zaouia_, where she practically becomes the slave of the _marabout_ and lives the rest of her life weaving and working in this kind of convent; or, if she prefers it, she can become a servant; or, as a last resource, enter the ranks of the dancing-girls in the reserved quarter. In fact, if she has no occupation and no house of her own, the French authorities force her to take up her residence in that special part of the town.

But, except in these particular cases, the Arab woman is not the bond-slave of the man, and I have no doubt that the majority are much happier than many European wives. It is, of course, very difficult to get any definite information about all this, as it is against the laws of etiquette to mention Arab women to their men. The above facts have been gathered by little bits of talk here and there with intimate friends, who have now and then voluntarily unburdened their hearts, by talks to some of the rare few of the older generation who have traveled a great deal and who don’t mind airing their views, and by actual contact with respectable married women. Of this the less said the better, as such meetings were strictly against all the laws of propriety, and were contrived by friendly intrigues.

Secrecy about the womenfolk is so great that the stranger is not even allowed to hear the sound of their voices, and I have stayed with an Arab chief for a week, where we were eighteen to dinner every night, and where there must have been twenty women and as many children in the same house, and I never heard a sound which suggested female presence. Even in the Sahara, where the women are only divided from the men by a rug hung across the center of the tent, I have passed the night, and only realized that women were present when a child cried and its mother hushed it.

Some Arab chiefs allow European women to visit their wives, but it is not very interesting. They can’t speak a word of French, and they sit staring at the visitor with curious eyes, and touch her clothes to see how they are woven and put on. Occasionally one meets with women who have been to Europe, but, with few exceptions, they regret their ventures and are glad to return.

There is one famous case of an Arab girl who drifted away from the South, crossed the sea, and eventually found herself in Paris, where she started dancing. She had an instantaneous success, and in a short time had visited London and New York, acclaimed wherever she went. It would be too long to go into all her adventures—suffice it to say that she was courted by all, that she met all kinds of interesting people; dressed in the smartest frocks, and lived on a lavish scale. One day she returned to Laghouat and she remained six months; during those six months she lived again as an Arab, then she went back to Paris, but it was too late. The South had seized her, her people had clutched her heart again, and she could no longer keep away.

She returned to her home in the oasis. Nothing will now make her return to Europe, and she says that the only possible life for a woman is to be married to a nice Arab and shut up. The last time I saw her she was sitting on the floor of a roughly furnished room, barefooted, eating _kous-kous_ with her hands out of the same bowl with her servants!

Chapter XII

Arab Love And The Women Of The Reserved Quarter

By bracketing these two subjects together I do not wish it to be supposed that in Algeria the two are synonymous, though curiously enough there is none of that sordid atmosphere which is associated with women of easy morals in Europe. It is generally believed that the Arab man is a brute who uses women only for his pleasure, and that the Arab woman is a piece of furniture and accepts the situation. It is another legend.

There are few men in the world who are such ardent lovers as the Arabs, and few women who know as well the art of holding a man and making him dance to her tune. The Arab goes quite mad when he is in love, and forsakes his home and his people to lead the life of a lone savage. In the meanwhile the object of his adoration is laughing at him coldly, without the smallest emotion and without any encouragement. The lover can continue performing the utmost follies—the woman won’t flinch if she doesn’t love him.

The moment she does it is quite a different matter. Her love dominates all, and she becomes the adorer of her man. And yet in the midst of all this adoration her woman’s instinct never leaves her, and if she feels that the man is taking her as a habit she just slips off and leaves him to wonder if he is standing on his head or on his heels. Many succeed by this method in keeping their husbands for ever. If a man has a mistress she will in no way mix up in his family life, but at the same time she will be respected by him and by his friends as if she were his wife, provided she remains shut up. Generally speaking, however, this is rare, and a man’s mistress either lives in the reserved quarter or keeps open house at her lover’s expense. Under these circumstances, though she may have a few women friends, they are not of the best class, and even the men who visit her house will only do so under cover of darkness.

The reader will at once ask:

“With polygamy, why is there any necessity for mistresses?”

I suppose it is the spirit of adventure, the desire for forbidden fruit, which characterizes all intrigues of this kind, but it is also the attitude of the woman who does not want to bind herself and prefers her free life until the day she is too old to enjoy it. Arab women are very capricious, and they love to have the man dancing attendance on them, bringing them presents, and never really the master of his own reason.

This atmosphere can only be created in an irregular situation, for once she is his wife she has certain obligations and his authority counts. Arab women are more than capricious, they are heartless as long as they do not love. Certain European women are too, but never to the extent of the Arabs. They will keep some infatuated man hanging about them with just the hope of favors for months, even for years. If they see that he is taking a pull at himself they will give him just sufficient encouragement to haul him back, and then drop him again into the depths of despair. And if the poor chap goes mad or ruins himself it is treated as a triumph—another conquest.

But once in love the Arab woman is quite a different being, and her devotion is without end. I have known a woman who had riches, houses, position, adulation by men of note, everything a lovely woman could desire, give up everything she had for a man she loved and live with him in a state of complete poverty, with just enough but no more. Before that man came into her life all were fair play to her, and her moral scruples did not exist. After she had met that man all the millions in the world would not take her from his side.

Women all the world through are capricious, and swayed by their whims, and it is by these traits that the skilful ones cause men to make fools of themselves. The art is dying out in England, and is on the wane in France, but in Algeria it is at its height, and sorry is the lot of the unwary one who inadvertently falls in love with an Arab girl who does not return his love.

Though the same characteristics apply to the women of the reserved quarter, it is not quite the same thing.

First of all, a few words about this part of the Arab town. It is, of course, a creation of the French, as it is against all the laws of the Koran for a man to live with any woman who is not married to him legally or who is not a recognized concubine. In fact, it is to avoid this that polygamy was instituted. However, with the French conquest French civilization had to come too, and the _Quartier_ was created, primarily for the troops.

It is usually walled in, and entered by a single door which is guarded by a sentry. Inside there is quite a little city—shops, cafés, miniature squares, where the dancing takes place in the summer. The women have their little apartments, where they receive their friends to drink tea and give little dinner-parties. It is an atmosphere of frank gaiety quite impossible to realize without seeing it. Some of them have their babies with them, others live with their mothers. The majority of the inmates are of the tribe of the Ouled Naïl, but there are, of course, many girls from the local tribes too, the great difference being that those who come from the Ouled Naïl are not in any way lowering their prestige by living this life. They have come with the full consent of their parents, and one day they may leave and honorably marry. It depends a great deal on the dowry. In the old days the girls always tried to collect gold pieces, which they strung into necklaces, and one saw a woman all dressed up and her neck weighed down with hundred-franc and twenty-franc pieces. Now that gold is no longer current in France the women convert all the notes they have into bits of gold, which they have beaten into bracelets and ear-rings and tiaras. Some of them manage to buy hoarded collections of gold pieces to make into necklaces, while others have inherited them from their mothers.

However, the main point is to have the dowry in gold actually on the person, so that there is no danger of its depreciating in value, and when the girls leave the quarter to go to some private party in order to dance, they are accompanied by a constable and by a soldier with a rifle. The result of this system of buying gold has, of course, made the girls very rich. Paper currency has depreciated, so that a hundred-franc piece sells for a high price, and the money, though not fructifying in actual interest, is a capital ever increasing in value.

Of course these jewels are not common only to the girls of the Quarter; all Arab women strive to have as much jewelry as possible, but naturally they have other expenses to consider, whereas a girl of the Quarter invests all she has in jewels, and keeps only a small proportion of her earnings to buy her frocks.

[Illustration: An Arab Type]

[Illustration: Arab Women Veiled]

[Illustration: Girl of the Quarter]

The frocks of the Arab women of all classes are the same, and they are disappointing. In fact, they are almost grotesque, and do not in the least show off the wearer to her advantage. For daily use they employ calico or print, tied round the waist with a ribbon, while on the head there is a colored scarf. When they are all dressed up for a party their outer garment is of silk or of taffeta, sometimes of velvet, sewed about with ribbons and embroidery, and of all shades of brilliant colors. The hair is long and smeared in unguents, and plaited round the head, about which they wear two scarfs bound one above the other, also of very striking hues. Those who have golden tiaras fix them in front of the scarf head-dress, with golden chains hanging down from the sides, passing under the chin and up the other side. Round the neck are the necklaces of gold pieces, in the center of the breast a round golden brooch, and about the waist a silver or golden belt. Their arms are covered with bracelets, which are rarely beautiful because they are too heavy; the same applies to the anklets. What strikes one first as a jarring contrast are the feet.

In the first place, Arab women’s ankles are rather thick, but, instead of wearing attractive Arab slippers associated with the illustrations of the _Arabian Nights_, they buy themselves cheap French shoes and encase their fat legs in cotton or woolen stockings, which have no connection at all with the color-scheme of the dress. They also spoil their figures by wearing layers of coarse underclothing. A group of Arab girls a few yards away, about to dance, is a picturesque spectacle, but their individual appearance in those gaudy clothes is not attractive. And yet some of the girls when young are lovely, their big black eyes especially, and their mouths full of fun and inconsequent gaiety. With the exception of the hair they keep themselves clean, and they attend the Turkish bath regularly.

It is most amusing to stroll into the cafés of the Quarter at night and sit down on one of the benches among the Arabs under the flickering light of the oil-lamp or the hiss of the acetylene, and watch the girls in their semi-party dresses dancing slowly up and down the center. The _raïta_ squeals and the _tam-tam_ beats in regular cadence while the dance proceeds.

There are all kinds of different steps and figures, and though the _danse du ventre_, which is a hideous muscular distortion of the abdomen, is always carried through, there are many other dances which are pleasing to the eye, and the movements of the hands remind one of the wings of a butterfly. Moreover, simple as these dances may seem, there is a tremendous amount of technique about them, and the poise of the body, and the movements of the feet, quite apart from the hands, take long years to learn. A little girl will begin her apprenticeship at the age of twelve, and at seventeen she will be proficient. Some of the dancers become famous, and are as well known among the Arabs as European stars.

There are also some Arab women who sing and play the mandolin. Their voices are, on the whole, rather harsh, except in the sad ballads of the South, which drone out into the plaintive notes so hard to copy.

Since the introduction of the gramophone into Arab life the girls who are known to be appreciated are paid large sums to make records, and the result is deplorable, as the harshness of the voice is only accentuated by the needle.

The saddest part about Arab women is the rapidity with which they grow old, or, rather, mature. They attain the status of womanhood between the ages of twelve and fourteen, and between fifteen and twenty they are at their best. After that they suddenly seem to fade, and all at once look near to thirty-five. But there it stops, and they don’t get any older for ten or fifteen years; then another sudden leap forward and a woman of fifty is a wrinkled old lady.

Such is the Arab woman of to-day, and such she will remain until civilization finds its way in and destroys all the good traditions of the past. The task will be a hard one, but the action of Mustapha Kemal in Turkey, though it has probably shocked the Arabs, has given them much to think about. However, for the time being the life goes on as it has done for the past twelve hundred years, and long may it do so.

Chapter XIII

Arab Music And Dancing

I have talked a great deal about music and dancing in Algeria without describing their characteristics. There are three very distinct classes of music: that for dancing, that for ballads about war or love, and that for religious chants.

These various forms of music have their respective instruments, which, though few in number, differ considerably one from the other. The first is the _raïta_: in shape it resembles a short trumpet bored with holes, on which rest the fingers, and with a bell-shaped mouth. The sound is created by vast quantities of air being blown through a reed mouthpiece, producing a sound not unlike the bagpipes, only much louder. In fact, I have rarely heard one man produce such an ear-piercing and strident squeal as the _raïta_-player, and sitting close up to the music is pain and grief. This instrument is used exclusively for dancing, and it is accompanied by a man with a _tam-tam_ or a _derbouca_.

The _tam-tam_ resembles in shape a very large tambourine, and is played with both hands, producing a rather dry, rhythmical cadence. The _derbouca_ looks like a large flower-vase with a round body and a long neck. Over the farther end is stretched a piece of skin, and the playing is the same as the _tam-tam_, but with a much deeper sound.

In addition to the above, one often sees a tambourinist; but the usual orchestra for dancing consists of two men—the _raïta_-player and the drummer, with his _tam-tam_ or _derbouca_.

The second type of wind instrument is the flute. This is either the ordinary penny whistle made out of a reed and producing the same sort of music, only softer, or the long flute, chiefly found in the southern areas. The flute is the most interesting of all the Arab instruments and the hardest to play. It consists of a long reed hollowed out, about half an inch in diameter and from two to three feet long. It has eight stops, but there is no sort of mouthpiece.

The sound is produced by the player blowing across the top of the flute at some particular angle which I have never been able to discover, and producing the softest, saddest, deepest note one can possibly imagine.

To the most unmusical the sound of the long flute must appeal, and when accompanying one of those love ballads of the far South it is enchanting.

These two flutes are used to accompany all kinds of songs, but chiefly those concerning the exploits of heroes and the love lays which hold such a big place in all Arab melodies. Occasionally it is used to follow religious chants, but not always.

The flute is usually accompanied by the _tam-tam_ or the _derbouca_, which is played very softly. Moreover, the accompaniment to the song is more often only heard between each verse, while during the singing it is just a faint drone with a distinct time-beating, and sometimes no music at all.

The religious chants, which are not, as might be supposed, sung in the mosques but at the shrines of saints or in private houses, have usually no accompaniment except the _tam-tam_. These chants consist of either hymns in praise of some saint or _marabout_, or else in long passages of the Koran telling one of our well-known Bible stories. At first sight it would seem that such music without any sort of instrument would be singularly dull, but when one hears the singer bending over his _tam-tam_, pouring out a volume of sound, keeping a wonderful time with his hands, one is carried away by the rhythm.

At the end of each verse or group of verses there is usually a chorus in praise of Allah or of Mohammed, which is taken up by the audience.

The performers in the cases of the dance-music and the ballad-singing are professionals who either earn their living by playing nightly in the local cafés or by wandering about the country earning their supper as they go. Some of them are poets, and will extemporize songs about the host or about his mistress.

There are also mandolinists and violinists, but these are usually found among private individuals who perform for their own amusement or for that of their friends. They play the same sort of music, both religious and otherwise, and if one has a friend who owns a mandolin a very pleasant evening may be passed with delightful music. It is much gayer, and there are some airs which could almost be used for modern dancing.

The violinists are disappointing from the European standpoint. The player does not place the instrument to his shoulder, but holds it upright on his knee and draws the bow across the strings rather after the fashion of a man with a double bass, emitting a somewhat corresponding sound.

At first Arab music seems all the same, and the unaccustomed listener can not differentiate between the melodies, but little by little the ear becoming accustomed, he can tell at once if the air is from Oran or from Algiers, from the mountains of the Tell or from the far South; and the beat of the religious chant is unmistakable.

There are occasionally companies of musicians who travel around with a variety of instruments and singers, male and female, and dancers. There are also those who sing only the Koran, and serious _marabouts_ almost always have their private musicians. One also sees troupes of actors, usually Tunisians, who give small plays interspersed with music and dancing. The performance goes on for hours and hours, and the audience sits spellbound without uttering a sound of approval or disapproval. Occasionally a comic scene provokes laughter, but generally speaking a dramatic performance is carried through in absolute silence.

The dancing is as varied as the music. It is usually carried out by women, who start learning at a very youthful age. The _danse du ventre_, which is essentially of the North, or of Turkish origin, is decidedly ugly. It is, however, much appreciated and takes endless practise to learn.

The dance of the Ouled Naïls, on which is based most of the other dances, is very picturesque, and the movements of the hands, like the wings of a hunting hawk, and the feet, are a delight to watch.

Occasionally men dance too; sometimes in the cafés with a woman executing strange figures, but usually alone or with other men. One of the finest exhibitions of this kind I ever saw was at Ghardaia one warm evening in April.

A great fire of alfa grass had been lighted in the market-square illuminating the unsymmetrical arches; masses of men in white squatted all round, while above, on the flat roofs of the houses, could be discerned rows and rows of veiled women peering down on the scene below like ghostly gargoyles. The music was the _raïta_ and the _tam-tam_, and even in the open air the volume of sound produced by the musicians was sufficient to fill the whole square.

Suddenly a dozen or so men rose, formed themselves into two lines facing one another, and then majestically, with slow steps, they advanced toward each other; when they met they hesitated and then retreated. It was like the opening of a quadrille. At first it was all very solemn, and the figures consisted mostly of slow rhythmical steps, then as the music inspired them, their bodies seemed to stiffen and their feet to move more rapidly. Suddenly and simultaneously, as the _raïta_ broke into a wilder air, the two groups stopped for a second and then, raising their arms, brandished their sticks in the air.

Again they advanced, but this time much more quickly, and as they met struck the sticks of the opposing group; back they retreated to the original post, again they advanced, and, passing through the other group, took up a place at the other end of the square. The fire blazed up and lit up the faces shining in the flickering light as they looked forward with bright, excited eyes.

A group of men detached themselves and started dancing alone; they moved slowly round the group of spectators, then as the music rose they went faster and faster until they were spinning in a mad whirl round the fire. Faster, faster, faster, until, with a gasp, a dancer fell in a state of exhaustion and another took his place.

And so the dancing went on; the few Europeans who were present gradually slipped away, but long after I was in bed I could hear away in the distance the skirl of the _raïta_, and I could imagine those wild men whirling madly round and round the market-square.

Another form of music and dancing seen in Algeria, but much less common than that which I have described above, is that carried out by negroes. The fact that a man is black does not confer any lowering mark on him in Algeria. He is not the common coarse nigger, but of the Senegalese and Sudanese type, and probably a blood descendant of the Numidians who ruled parts of the country before the Arab invasions.

The dances these men, and sometimes the women, perform are remarkable chiefly for the fact that the dancers and the orchestra are one and the same thing. Six or eight persons will get up, among whom one carries a drum and others two or three heavy cymbals and an instrument like an enormous iron castanet. The dancers form a compact circle and begin slowly chanting, accompanying their voices with the drum and the cymbals. Then gradually the voices rise, and with them the clashing of the instruments, until the whole develops into a wild war-song which increases in speed at every bar. The black men dance round and round, first on one foot and then on the other, perspiration pouring off their dark foreheads, their eyes starting out of their heads; nothing stops them; in fact, once they begin it is impossible to quell the dance until exhaustion has done its work.

I remember once going to a party at a private house where eight of these dancers, six men and two women, had come to perform. They started, and it was a wonderful sight to see them gyrating round the pillared court, with the setting of Arabs all round and the stars shining down from above. But after an hour or so of this, the audience got rather bored, and an attempt was made to get them to stop; this was, however, impossible, and on, on they went. Finally the host got angry, and with difficulty the performers were pushed into the street, still dancing and quite oblivious of all about them.

Our party continued, and some hours later, when I was walking home, I suddenly came upon the negroes still dancing. It is true that only a few remained, but these went on and on with their terrible chant, and on and on they whirled, unable to stop, unable to think, until their bodies gave out and they fell upon the ground.

Yes, dancing and music in Algeria is varied, and its charm, though an acquired taste, is something quite unlike anything else, and takes hold of the senses in a most extraordinary way.

Chapter XIV

Religion

With sudden contrast, we turn our attention to the most important problem in the daily life of the Arab— religion. Now, it is a curious thing that in practically all European countries religion has not much sway over the general masses, and that frequently it is subject-matter for controversy and discord. Even among those members of the community who are still faithful believers, the church is not really interwoven in the hum of daily life. Not so in Algeria. Every Arab who has not been degenerated by Europe into atheism— and it must be admitted that there are very few of these—believes in Allah, believes in Mohammed, in the world to come, with eternal damnation or salvation. But not only does he believe it to the extent of practising the religion in the mosque as European believers do in the church, but he continues following the precepts of the Faith in every moment of his life.

After living a while with the Arabs it comes as a revelation quite unexpected, and it makes one wonder whether Mohammed, thirteen hundred years ago, had any idea what effect his preaching would have on his followers; probably not. He always strikes one as a man who was almost forced into the path which he followed by circumstances about him. However, these pages are not the place to raise this question. What is certain is the immense change which swept over North Africa when the Arab invasions began in the seventh century, bringing with them all the doctrines of the new faith into a land full of rival beliefs.

There is less difference in Algeria between that period and the present than there was between the sixth century and the days of Carthage in all its splendor, and whether we are discussing the Arabs of the north or of the Sahara, or whether the Berbers of the Kabyle Mountains or those of the Mzab, there is one expression which covers them all:

“They are Mohammedans.”

Not all Mohammedans are of the same denomination, but they are much less divided than the different sects in England, and all with the same fervent belief:

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