CHAPTER XVII

.

1843.

At this period of his fortunes, Abdel Kader was almost as much engaged in subduing his own subjects and keeping them to their allegiance, as in fighting with the French. The latter, by promises, by bribes, by threats, by measures of the utmost severity, tried to gain over the Arab tribes as allies and auxiliaries. A razzia on the part of the French was sure to be followed by a razzia on the part of the Sultan. Both parties endeavoured to establish their power by terror. But, whilst the one was actuated by the thirst for conquest, the other was influenced by the desire of rescuing his country from its evils, and rendering it eventually great and powerful.

The French had learned to appreciate the importance of the Smala. They saw in it the real nucleus of Abdel Kader’s influence. They ascertained that it was the depository of immense wealth. It now became the chief object of their research. From generals of _corps d’armée_ to colonels of detachments, all displayed an eager and zealous activity to snatch the splendid prize.

In the spring of 1843, Lamoricière opened the campaign by occupying Tekedemt. Abdel Kader, with 1,500 cavalry, watched his further movements from the neighbouring woods of Serisso. He had learned by spies that the general’s object was the Smala. For twenty days he remained in ambush. All communication with him was strictly prohibited, lest his presence should be discovered. He and his men lived on acorns. The horses were fed with leaves. To add to the intenseness of his abnegation, this trial came on them during the period of the fast of Ramadan.

One day the chiefs of Abdel Kader came to him radiant with joy. They had found a stray sheep. The Sultan at least might have a repast. “Take it to my starving soldiers,” said Abdel Kader, and he turned to his meal of acorns. Unconsciously, he was following the example of David, when he looked on the waters from the well of Bethlehem, and said, “Is not this the blood of the men who went in jeopardy of their lives? and he would not drink it;” of Alexander, when he refused the helmet of water—“If I alone drink, my men will be dispirited;” of Sidney, who on the field of Zutphen resigned the cooling draught to his wounded comrade, with the touching remark, “This man’s necessity is greater than mine.”

Twice Lamoricière led forth his troops in search of the Smala, and twice Abdel Kader drove him back. But treason was at work. Sheik Omar ibn Ferrath, of the Beni Aiad, offered to point out the exact spot on which the Smala was encamped. Immediately the plan was laid. From Abdel Kader no obstruction was feared. He was occupied with Lamoricière. The column stationed at Medea was selected for the enterprise. The execution was entrusted to the Duc D’Aumale.

On the 10th of May, 1843, D’Aumale left Boghar with 1,300 infantry, 600 cavalry, and 2 field pieces. Sheik Omar had announced the Smala to be at Gojilat. The French reached that place on the 14th. But the Smala was gone. Its new locality was unknown. The column wandered about weary and uncertain. A fierce simoon sweeping over it reduced the men to utter exhaustion. They halted and piled arms. D’Aumale rode on for some miles in front, merely accompanied by his cavalry.

At break of day on the 16th, the traitor Sheik rode up to say that the Smala was at the spring of Taguin. D’Aumale at once gave orders to march on the point indicated. The Sheik expostulated. To attack the Smala with 600 cavalry appeared to him to be madness. He entreated the Duke either to return to his column or to wait till it came up. “No prince of my race ever receded,” was the gallant reply; and the trumpets sounded the advance.

The Smala was reached. The French cavalry, spreading out like a fan, went dashing through that sea of tents, and quickly scattered a bewildered and panic-striken population of old men, women, and children. The small guard of 500 regulars fired a volley and fled. A handful of the Hashems bravely attempted to stem the torrent, but were swept away. In less than an hour the victory was complete.

The scenes of confusion and despair which were crowded into that brief interval—the frantic efforts at escape, the terror of the flying, the dismay of the abandoned—the careering and plunging of a promiscuous mass of camels, dromedaries, horses, mules, oxen, sheep, tossing about like the waves of a raging sea, have been immortalised by the genius of Horace Vernet. The painter’s art alone could do adequate justice to that unparalleled and almost inconceivable scene of tumult.

The bloodshed had been comparatively trifling. The trophies consisted chiefly of the families of Abdel Kader’s most influential chiefs. His own family had escaped. The booty was immense. It comprised thousands of animals of all kinds, Abdel Kader’s library, consisting of the rarest Arabian manuscripts, richly bound, and valued at £5,000; his military chest, containing millions of francs; the chests of his Khalifas and Kaids, all deposited in the Smala for security, and filled with gold and silver coins, and costly jewellery.

The French soldiers baled out dollars and doubloons in their shakos; they filled their haversacks with pearls and diamonds. In the general disorder, the voice of command was unheeded; and each seized the prize, which a more or less happy chance threw into his hands.

Abdel Kader received the news of the taking of the Smala, in the woods of Serisso. The blow for a moment overwhelmed him. He measured at once the extent of his misfortune, and saw in that severe decree of fate the presage of a dark and calamitous future. Dismissing the messengers who brought him the intelligence, he retired from some hours to his tent, engaged in meditation and prayer.

His chiefs, his officers and men, had, in the meantime, assembled in groups outside. Some were silent and downcast, others gave way to the wildest imprecations. Many had lost their all; their wives and their children had been taken captive—they might be separated for years, perhaps for ever; disordered imaginations filled up this dark shadow of the unknown with exaggerated horrors; the distracted sufferers saw no prospect of relief. One only feeling gave them a shadow of consolation—their Sultan was still amongst them.

Abdel Kader came forth. They crowded to his presence. They watched his looks. Some essayed to address him, but the words faltered on their lips; none ventured to fathom the secret workings of that profound prostration. But the cloud had passed over; a smile played on his countenance. “Praise be to God,” he said; “all those objects which I so highly prized, which were so dear to my heart, and occupied my mind so much, only impeded my movements, and turned me aside from the right way. For the future, I shall be free to fight the infidels.”

Then, speaking of those who had fallen, he added, “Why should we mourn and complain? Are not all those whom we loved and have lost, now blessed in Paradise?” The next day he wrote to his Khalifas:—“The French have made a razzia on my Smala; but let us not be discouraged, we shall henceforth be lighter and better disposed for war.”

Thus, rising superior to events, Abdel Kader stilled the troubled waters which rose around him; from the deepest of his misfortunes he gathered hope and encouragement for the future.

When alluding afterwards to this disastrous period, Abdel Kader thus expressed himself:—“When my Smala was attacked by the Duc D’Aumale, its population could not have comprised less than 60,000 souls. He did not carry off a tenth part; it extended from Taguin as far as Djebel Amour. When an Arab lost sight of his family in it, he was sometimes two days in finding it. Wherever it was encamped, the wells and rivulets were dried up. I had established a police force expressly to prevent the waters from being muddled or wasted by the flocks. In spite of all my precautions, many perished from thirst.

“My Smala contained armourers, saddlers, tailors—every trade, in fact, necessary to its organisation. An immense fair was held in it, which was much frequented by the Arabs of the Tell. As to our grain, corn, and barley, it was either brought to us, or we sent to procure it from the tribes of the north.

“The order of the encampment was perfectly regulated. When I had pitched my tent, every one knew the place he was to occupy. I had around me three or four hundred of my regular infantry, and the irregular cavalry of the Hashems of Eghrees, who were especially devoted to me. It was no easy task to reach me. Not that I took these measures for my own personal security; I felt I was necessary to accomplish the work of God, and trusted in Him to strengthen and protect the arm that carried his standard.

“At the time of the surprise, I was near Tekedemt, observing the division of Oran, which was in the neighbourhood, and from which I thought I had most to dread. I had with me 1,500 or 1,600 cavalry. Ben Kharoub was with the Flittas, Ben Allal in the Ouarensis, Mustapha-ibn- Taamy amongst the Beni Ouragh. But I never thought there was occasion for me to fear so terrible a mischance in the direction of Medea; and none of my Khalifas were watching the movements of the king’s son.

“Despite all that, however, we should not have been surprised if God had not blinded our people. On seeing the Spahis coming on, with their red burnouses, it was thought in the Smala that they were my irregulars returning. The women even raised the usual cries of welcome and rejoicing to their honour. Nor were they undeceived until the first shots were fired. Then ensued a scene of inexpressible confusion, which baffled all the efforts of those who sought to defend themselves.

“If I had been there, we should have fought for our wives and children, and the French would have seen a grand day. But God decreed it otherwise. I only heard of the misfortune three days afterwards; it was too late.”

The smallness of their force prevented the French from taking more than 3,000 prisoners; but amongst them were the families of several of the Sultan’s Khalifas. The rest of the Smala dispersed in all directions. Some fell among Arab tribes, who plundered them. Others were overtaken by Lamoricière.

Foremost in the pursuit was Mutapha-ibn-Ismail, who throughout the war had made himself conspicuous by the malicious zeal with which he had ever aided and directed the movements of the French against the distinguished chief whom a base jealousy urged him to thwart and oppose. But the traitor now met a merited doom. Crossing the district of the Flittas, he was attacked, shot down, and decapitated. His head was taken to the Sultan’s head-quarters. Abdel Kader gazed upon it for some moments with pardonable satisfaction, and then contemptuously ordered it to be thrown to the dogs.

To recover his influence and restore the general confidence by the re- establishment of his Smala, was now to Abdel Kader a matter of vital importance. But all his efforts were vain. The moral effects of its defeat and capture were irremediable. Every day brought Abdel Kader information of the defection of large and influential tribes. Arab contingents now swelled the ranks of his enemies, and marched openly against him.

Yet deeper misfortunes followed. At the very moment when his ablest Khalifas were most needed, a remorseless fate removed them. Their career was cut short by captivity, or terminated by a glorious death. Deprived of these connecting links, his empire lost cohesion. His distant provinces fell an easy prey to the French, who everywhere displayed their triumphant standards. But the lion heart and iron will still bore up, and defied fortune to do its worst.

The province of Oran became the scene of an almost superhuman struggle. Followed by a chosen and devoted band of some 5,000 followers, Abdel Kader made his presence felt at all points; now he fell on recreant tribes; now he made head against the French columns. Ever in the van, leading on the charge, plunging into the thickest of the fight, by his heroic example he encouraged, animated, and inspired his small band. His bravest followers fell around him; his horses were killed under him; his burnous was riddled with bullets; but still he fought on, desperately braving and sustaining the battle’s brunt.

Once he was taken unawares. On the 23rd September, 1843, he was encamped near the Marabouts (or sacred edifices) of Sidi Yoosuf, with a battalion of infantry and 500 irregular horse. A spy betrayed his position to Lamoricière. A distance of six leagues was between them. The general at once led out in person the 2nd Chasseurs d’Afriques. All were elate and confident. The space was rapidly traversed by a night’s march. In the grey of dawn the spot was reached.

Abdel Kader was aroused from sleep by cries of “The French! the French!” He had barely time to mount. He might have escaped, but death in his eyes was preferable to the double stain of surprise and flight. His infantry sprung to their arms, and by his orders advanced and fired a volley. His cavalry rallied at his voice. Then, as the smoke slowly rolled away, he dashed into the French chasseurs, overwhelmed and dispersed them by the suddenness of the shock, and after a few minutes’ hard fighting drew off his whole force in perfect order.

The Beni Amers had gone over to the French—those same Beni Amers whose 4,000 sabres had waved in exultation around the young hero of the Djehad; whose brilliant courage had opened before him the path of glory and of empire. Abdel Kader determined to attack them. Descending suddenly upon them with all his available levies, he swept through their encampments, slew numbers, and carried off a large booty. A French battalion stationed amongst them struggled vainly to arrest his progress. But an Arab chief, one of his old followers, boldly singled him out, rode up to him, and fired at him point blank. The ball missed. Abdel Kader turned round and shot the traitor dead with his pistol.

Notwithstanding the temporary success of these desperate efforts, Abdel Kader well knew that unless some more stable and permanent form were given to his energy and perseverance, all attempts to regain his former ascendancy, and repair the crumbling edifice of his fortunes, would be vain and illusory. Algeria, he now clearly saw, was closed to him, as a battle-field likely to be productive of any solid advantages to his position, notwithstanding his endless raids and triumphant razzias. Without external aid, he felt the game was lost.

The magnificent Smala was now reduced to his own Deira, barely amounting to 1,000 souls, wandering about in miserable uncertainty. By fixing it in a place of security, he would be ready for fresh efforts. While escorting it to a more favourable spot, Lamoricière again crossed his path. A desperate engagement ensued. The women animated the combatants with their voices. Abdel Kader and his followers, fighting in the presence of their wives and children, performed prodigies of valour. Again the Sultan’s formidable antagonist was foiled. The Deira was safely established at Bouka Cheha, on the territory of Morocco.

The political relations between England and France were at this time threatening. Abdel Kader thought the moment propitious. He sent an embassy to the Queen of England. In a letter addressed to her Majesty, he opened to her the prospect of possessions in Algeria. All the sea- coast towns should be ceded to her in full and undivided sovereignty. On the other hand, the Arabs required at her hands the acknowledgment of their national independence. A glorious alliance between the English and the Arabs would present an impassible barrier, he urged, to French aggrandisement in Africa. The letter was placed in the hands of the Prime Minister. An interview with the Queen was sought by his agent, and refused. An answer was promised, but it was never sent.

The embassy was at the same time entrusted with a letter from Abdel Kader to the Turkish Sultan, to be transmitted through the British Foreign Office. In return for succour promptly sent, the Sultan of the Arabs offered to acknowledge the descendant of Othman as his suzerain. The letter was forwarded to its destination, but no results ensued.

Whatever were his expectations from the quarters he thus addressed, Abdel Kader’s main reliance was in the support and co-operation of the Sultan of Morocco. For years, Sultan Abderahman had shown him every mark of unbounded cordiality and esteem, had loaded him with presents, and offered him the sweet incense of flattery and adulation. But there his friendship stopped. Throughout the whole career of Abdel Kader, he had never offered to supply him gratuitously with material aid of any kind; and Abdel Kader had never condescended to demand it.

Now, however, stern necessity and a solemn sense of religious duty compelled him to make the appeal. In the most urgent and pressing terms, he adjured the Moorish Sultan to come forward with the whole strength and resources of his empire in behalf of the common cause. He pointed out the common danger. If all Algeria were to be subdued, where, he asked, could be the security for Morocco? Pretexts would not be wanting for invading the latter, as pretexts had been found for invading the former. The Arab tribes, momentarily dispirited, would revive at the sight of the Moorish armies, and, with re-enkindled enthusiasm, range themselves round the Moorish standards.

Not content with challenging the political and religious sympathies of the Sultan of Morocco, Abdel Kader resolved to win his patron’s adhesion, if not to extort his alliance, by an act of personal devotion. Several of the frontier Morocco tribes had long been in open revolt against their sovereign. He marched against them, subdued them, and sent the leaders of the rebellion in chains to Ouchda, forwarding at the same time a letter from himself to Sultan Abderahman, stating his services.

The reply of the Moorish monarch was complimentary, but reserved. It held out to him no encouragement. Abdel Kader, finding the fruitlessness of his advances in that quarter, now summoned around him a few faithful adherents, and, relying on his own efforts to retrieve his fortunes, disappeared for some months in the Sahara.

The French, relieved of Abdel Kader’s presence, imagined that their work was done. His withdrawal from the scene of action was to them the grateful symbol of his abdication and defeat. Marshal Bugeaud thus congratulated his Government on the glorious result:—“After the campaign of the spring (1843), I might have proclaimed Algeria to be conquered and subdued. I preferred stating less than the truth. But now, after the battle of the 11th of this month, in which the remains of the Emir’s infantry were destroyed, and in which his first and most distinguished Khalifa was killed, I will boldly declare that all serious warfare is finished. Abdel Kader may, indeed, with the handful of cavalry he still has about him, make some isolated _coup de main_ on the frontier, but he can never again attempt anything important.”

##