CHAPTER II

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1830-1832.

The taking of Algiers by the French in 1830 did not at first inspire the Arabs with any unusual feelings of dread or anxiety. The Franks had often descended on their coasts, and even occupied some of their maritime towns. The standards of Spain and England had waved triumphantly on the ramparts of Oran and Tangiers. Bona and Algiers had been compelled at different times to yield a sullen deference to the requirements of European civilisation; but the military occupation and the political pressure had alike ceased. Thus the Arabs had never as yet seen any reason to regard a hostile incursion on their soil, by the Franks, as pregnant with danger to their national existence.

The proceedings of the French, however, in Algeria, soon convinced them that the presence of these invaders was no ordinary visitation. General Bourmont, indeed, from the outset, declared in a public proclamation, that France took possession, not only of the town of Algiers, but of the whole Regency. This announcement, closely followed as it was by the exile of the Dey, the removal of every trace and vestige of Turkish power, the deportation of the Turkish population, the issuing of laws and ordinances in the name of the King of the French, the enlarging and beautifying of the town of Algiers, the seizure of all the towns along the coast, and the advances of military reconnaissance towards the Atlas, revealed designs which neither the Arabs of the actual generation, nor their ancestors, had ever been called upon to counteract.

Before the French began to move beyond the walls of Algiers, the disposition of the Arabs towards them had been apparently friendly. Provisions had been brought in abundantly. Some of their chiefs had made overtures of submission. The Bey of Tittery had even accepted French investiture. So promising, indeed, was the aspect of affairs, that the French fancied they were about to be hailed as deliverers, and considered that the Arabs, overjoyed at being emancipated from the hated Turkish yoke, would thankfully accept French domination. The first movement of the French into the interior rapidly dispelled this pleasing illusion.

An expedition, commanded by the French general in person, to Blidah, a town situated at the foot of the Lower Atlas (July 24th, 1830), at once revealed the rising feeling of the Arabs. Lulled into security by the apparent heartiness of their reception among the inhabitants of Blidah, the leading men of which town came out to meet them, the French threw off their knapsacks, and wandered joyously amidst its delicious gardens. Suddenly, bands of Arabs and Kabyles rushed down upon them from the mountains above, and with wild cries commenced a vigorous attack. The French rapidly collected, bravely held their ground, and the next day retreated in good order to Algiers.

The Arabs took this temporary advantage as an earnest of future successes. From that moment, the spirit of defiance and resistance assumed a decided form. The Marabouts, leading and directing the national mind, proclaimed the Djehad, or Holy War. The Bey of Tittery, anxious to atone for his recent defection, wrote to Bourmont, fixing the day when at the head of 20,000 men, he would drive him and his Frenchmen into the sea.

On the other hand, French garrisons were quietly being stationed in all the seaport towns. At Oran, Hussein Bey became anxious to be delivered from a position which had become dangerous to his person. He was closely blockaded by the Arabs, burning to revenge themselves on his tyranny. His Turkish militia was utterly powerless for his defence. The Arabs in Turkish employ, the _Maghzen_, as they were called, were flying before the tribes so long oppressed, who now considered that their hour of retaliation was come.

In this dilemma, Hussein, unwilling to fly, and yet unable to hold his post, determined on adopting a course which, though humiliating to his pride, was dictated by the sternest necessity. He sent for Mehi-ed-deen, and craved his protection. Mehi-ed-deen, astonished at such an application, and fearing to compromise himself with his own countrymen by a hasty consent, asked leave to return home to consult the Hashems.

On his arrival at the ketna, he assembled a family council, and called on each member to give his opinion on the subject. The prevailing opinion was to the effect that it would be ungenerous to refuse the Bey’s request. It was true, as was on every hand admitted, that the injuries done by him to their beloved chief had been wanton and malicious; but it was urged, that it would be a stain upon Arab character to refuse an asylum to the fallen.

Abdel Kader spoke. He begged the indulgence of his relatives, and

## particularly of his father, if he ventured to differ from them. In the

state of anarchy which now existed in the province of Oran, he argued, it was by no means certain that they could protect the Bey from the effects of the universal feelings of hatred and indignation which prevailed against him. Whatever steps they might take, the Bey would still run the risk of being insulted, assaulted, perhaps murdered. Who could avert an outburst of popular fury, or be answerable for its consequences? In such an event, how great would be the disgrace of those who had given him a safe-conduct, and had been unable to make it respected!

“Another and equally important reason,” pursued Abdel Kader, “militates against the reception of the Bey in our ketna. An asylum given by our family to that detested representative of Turkish tyranny, would be looked upon by the Arabs as a kind of tacit forgetfulness of all his past conduct. Consequently we should make to ourselves enemies of all the tribes to whom the Bey is obnoxious; in other words, of all the Arabs of Oran.”

Mehi-ed-deen at once declared himself a convert to his son’s reasoning; and in this step he was shortly followed by every member of the council. A messenger was sent to inform the Bey that his request could not be granted, as Mehi-ed-deen would not become responsible for his safety. On the 4th of January, 1831, General Damremont entered the port of Oran. The Bey at once surrendered, and he was allowed to embark for Alexandria.

The disorder and anarchy which had already broken out in the interior was now constantly on the increase. The Mohammedans of the sea-coast towns, who had fled from the French, were roaming about the country with their families in terror and despair. The Arabs waylaid them, and robbed them without mercy. Mehi-ed-deen, who had hitherto been a passive observer of events, felt that the time had now arrived for action. By his orders Abdel Kader and his brothers, with effective escorts, scoured the plains in all directions, protecting the unfortunate fugitives, rescuing many from the hands of the marauders, and conducting all to places of safety.

But whatever good Mehi-ed-deen effected by this humane and timely interposition, it was evident that a far more potent arm than his was requisite to establish anything like a semblance of order and government. Not only on the plains, but in the towns, strife and contention were raging unchecked. Party feuds, which had been long suspended, broke out afresh with redoubled acrimony. The Arabs were everywhere giving the reins to their innate propensities for unbridled licence and lawlessness.

Long and anxious were the consultations held by the Marabouts on this frightful state of affairs. At length, with one accord, they determined to go to Mehi-ed-deen for counsel. Mehi-ed-deen thus appealed to, addressed the applicants for his advice in the following terms:—

“For many months, as you all know, I have been trying to preserve some degree of order amidst the general confusion which prevails; but my utmost endeavours have only been able to rescue a few of the weak and unprotected from the brutality of violent men.

“The tyranny of the Turks cramped and crushed our energies; but the present state of things, if allowed to continue, will destroy them utterly. The bonds of society are dissolved. Every man’s hand is raised against his neighbour. Our people, given up to their vile passions, are daily outraging the laws of God and man. At the same time, the evils which menace us from without are not less formidable than those which consume us from within. Shall we call in the French? Impossible. To submit to them, much more to invite them, would be to betray our duty to our God, our country, and our faith.

“Yet the French are a warlike nation, strong in numbers, abounding in riches, and burning with a love of conquest. And what have we to oppose to them? Tribes at variance with each other; designing and rapacious chiefs striving for personal aggrandisement; a commonalty which has thrown off all restraint, some enriching themselves by plunder, others precariously holding their own. The parties are too unequal. With such materials, to imagine even a successful struggle with the infidel would be folly, to attempt it, madness.

“No. The French king, powerful as he is, can only be effectually opposed by a king like himself at the head of a well-regulated state, disposing of a well-filled treasury, commanding a disciplined army. Nor need we go far to find such a one. The Sultan of Morocco already sympathises with us. He must know full well that the external danger which threatens us may ultimately menace him. His presence amongst us will at once encourage and embolden the good, and awe the wicked. Order will be enforced. Fighting under him, we shall march to assured victory; for his standards are the standards of God and the Prophet.”

A few days afterwards, an embassy, comprising ten of the most influential Marabouts and Sheiks, with an escort of fifty horsemen, and mules laden with presents, took its departure for Fez. Sultan Abderahman received the embassy with every appearance of cordiality, and promised to consider its demands. Six months elapsed without any reply. At last the Arab chiefs were sent for. Movements in the palace, and the assemblage of the troops, showed that the petition of the Arabs of Algeria had been granted. In six weeks, the Sultan’s son Ali, at the head of 5,000 cavalry and two parks of artillery, established his headquarters at Tlemsen, in the province of Oran.

Mehi-ed-deen and Abdel Kader, with all the chiefs of the Hashem, chiefs from the Beni Mejaher, the Beni Amer, and other tribes, hastened to pay their homage to the son and representative of their new Sultan. His authority was speedily recognised in all parts of the regency. The _khotba_, or public prayer for the Mohammedan Sultan, was pronounced in all the mosques for the Sultan of Morocco. Everything conspired to confirm the belief that Algeria had peaceably passed under the Moorish sceptre. But the French Government, seasonably apprised of these newly- formed relations between the Arabs and the Sultan Abderahman, at once sent the latter an ultimatum of immediate withdrawal from Algeria, or war.

Abderahman, compelled to choose one or other of these alternatives, and being totally unprepared to commence hostilities, immediately sent orders to his son to return. In a few days, although the Moors had been warmly welcomed, even in the provinces of Tittery and Constantine, not one was to be seen in the whole country. The Marabouts and chiefs now resolved to offer the dignity of Sultan to Mehi-ed-deen, and went in a body for that purpose to the ketna. He modestly declined the offer; but at the same time he recommended a second appeal to Morocco.

Another embassy was accordingly sent to Fez, to implore the Moorish Sultan to lend his name, at least, if he could not give material aid and assistance, to the movement which was being made in his favour. Unable to act overtly, yet hoping to profit by events, Abderahman so far complied with their request, that he sent a confidential agent to Mascara. This clandestine proceeding, however, produced no effect. The Arabs scorned a power which dared not openly display itself; and in a short time the Moorish agent was withdrawn.

Again all eyes were turned to Mehi-ed-deen. Again the Arabs entreated him to be their Sultan. “No,” he replied. “I am not adequate to perform the duties of such a post; but what religion imposes upon me, that will I do. I will go with you to the Djehad.” The Arabs had for some time been making approaches to Oran, now strongly occupied by the French. Abdel Kader had taken the field, and his father served under him.

The Arabs had recently been attacking Fort Philip, a strong citadel to the south of the town. Abdel Kader had both proposed and superintended the operation. Conspicuous in a scarlet burnous, he led on a mixed body of cavalry and infantry to the very walls of the fort. Ordering the latter to descend into the ditch and keep up a constant fire on the ramparts, he placed the former in such a position as to be ready to resist any sortie which might be made from the place. The fire of shot and shell which the French opened on the Arabs was such as might have staggered the best disciplined troops. But Abdel Kader, careering to and fro, and cheering his comrades by his voice and gestures, kept them together, and taught them to despise the tremendous missiles which were so wont to fill them with terror and amazement.

Word was sent him that the Arabs he had placed in the ditch had expended their ammunition, and that no one would expose himself to supply them. “Cowards!” he exclaimed, “give me the cartridges.” Wrapping them up in the folds of his burnous, he dashed singly across the plain, rode up to the fort, threw them into the ditch, and urging his men to be firm and go on with their work, returned, to the surprise of all, without being touched.

On this and many similar occasions of peril and enterprise, in which he fleshed his maiden sword, Abdel Kader’s courage and bravery drew forth not only praises, but rapturous admiration. The Arabs began to look with superstitious reverence on one, who as with a charmed life, rode fearlessly and harmlessly wherever danger menaced; now breaking through the line of the enemy’s skirmishers; now charging up to a square, and sweeping the bayonets with his sabre; now standing unmoved and pointing contemptuously at the cannon balls as they whizzed by his head, or at the shells as they exploded at his feet.

Nevertheless, however confident the Arabs might feel in their young chief, however they might acknowledge that in him a master-spirit had arisen to conduct them in their struggle against the infidels, they felt that this desultory mode of attack was not war. They saw full well that without a responsible head to organise, to raise revenues by regular imposts, to husband resources, and to form and carry out a clearly defined plan of campaign, all their efforts would be abortive, all their sacrifices useless. At a grand meeting held at Mascara, these topics were earnestly discussed.

Mehi-ed-deen, who was enjoying a short repose at the ketna, was invited to attend. Scarcely had he arrived and dismounted, when an excited throng surrounded him. A tumult of voices was raised. On all sides he was thus apostrophised,—“How long, O Mehi-ed-deen, are we to be left without a leader? How long will you remain a callous spectator of our distractions; you, whose name alone would suffice to rally all hearts, to encourage the desponding, to curb the malignant, to give strength and cohesion to the common cause? Already many of our bravest have fallen off in weariness and disgust. Who, they say, is to repair our losses, to replace our horses killed, our arms broken and useless? You, O Mehi-ed- deen, are answerable for all this.” Then, placing their swords at his breast, the chiefs exclaimed:—“Choose between being our Sultan or instant death.”

Mehi-ed-deen, violently agitated, but still preserving his presence of mind, demanded to be heard. “You all know,” he said, “that I am a man of peace, devoting myself to the worship of God. The task of ruling involves the use of brute force and the shedding of blood. But since you insist on my being your Sultan, I consent; and abdicate in favour of my son, Abdel Kader.”

This sudden and unexpected solution of the question was received with loud acclamations of approval. The name of Abdel Kader was repeated with enthusiasm. The character, the personal appearance, the manly bearing, the tried gallantry of the favourite son of Mehi-ed-deen, became the general topic of discourse. A horseman was forthwith despatched to bring him from the ketna.

Early on the next morning, November 21st, 1832, Abdel Kader entered Mascara. All the streets and avenues leading to the town were thronged. Men, women, and children vied with each other in joyful demonstrations of welcome to their future Sultan. Ushered into the large court where the council was assembled, Abdel Kader was informed of all that had passed. Calm, self-collected, and unelated, he simply said, “It is my duty to obey the commands of my father.” A burst of applause followed this simple avowal of filial obedience and patriotic devotion.

Placed in an antique chair of state, which had formerly belonged to some Spanish grandee, and which had been dragged forth from its musty recess for the occasion, the young Sultan, of twenty-five years of age, received the allegiance of the nobles and chiefs congregated around him. Loud shouts of “Long life and victory to our Sultan, Abdel Kader!” burst from the whole assembly. They were caught up and reiterated by the people from without, and thus heralded the inauguration of an Arabian Caliphate.

In the afternoon Abdel Kader went to the Mosque, which was already crowded to suffocation. After performing his devotions, he stood up. A Koran was put into his hands. He read and expounded. By degrees his countenance became more animated, his voice more resonant, his manner more impressive, and his action more emphatic, as, leaving the language of disquisition, he passed to more noble and exalted themes.

Not for minutes, but for hours, and until the sun had sunk below the horizon, did the soldier orator pour forth one continued stream of burning and impassioned eloquence. He expatiated, in heart-rending tones, on the sins, the iniquities, the crimes, the horrors which polluted the land. In vivid terms he depicted Heaven’s judgments overtaking a godless and vice-abandoned people; and now, again, he conjured up before the minds of his audience, in characters of flame, the appalling picture of their country ravaged by the infidel, their domestic hearths violated, their temples desecrated.

The sensation of wonder and astonishment which had at first filled the breasts of his hearers, now rapidly changed into conscience-stricken feelings of shame, contrition, and remorse. But when, with outstretched arm and lightning glance, he called on his countrymen, in words which glowed with the fire of inspiration, to stand boldly forward in the sacred cause of God and the Prophet, to rally round the standard of the “Djehad,” and to emulate the glorious martyrs of the true faith; and then painted in vivid colours the liberated spirits of the slain entering the blissful mansions, they sprang to their feet, they shook their spears, they clashed their swords, they wept aloud, and with frantic cries yelled out, “Il Djehad! Il Djehad!”

Exulting in his prowess, again and again did the consummate artist strike the chord, whose vibrations had thrilled every heart and enkindled every soul, and, as the frenzied voices rose louder and louder around him, his voice yet surged above them all. Gathering fresh impulse from the responsive acclamations of his hearers, he swayed to and fro. He smote his breast. Big drops of sweat suffused his brow. His eyes glistened and flashed. He flung his hands aloft, as though appealing to celestial witnesses. At last, so crushing and overpowering became his excitement, that Reason might have succumbed, had not Nature, by a copious flood of tears, relieved the fearful tension.

The next day (November 22nd, 1832) Abdel Kader proceeded in state to the valley of Ersibia, ten minutes’ distance from Mascara. Ten thousand Arab cavalry were there in waiting to receive and welcome their newly-elected sovereign. They were arranged, according to their tribes, in one continuous crescent, around a splendid tent, which had been erected in the centre of the plain. The entire population of Mascara occupied the intervening ground.

Just as the sun’s slanting rays peered over the heights of Djebel Nusmut, lighting up this scene as if by magic brightness, the shrill cries of the women, the shouts of the men, and incessant crashes of musketry, announced the approach of the royal cavalcade. First came a chosen band, escorting the standard of the Djehad. Then followed the chiefs of the Beni Amer, the Beni Mejaher, the Beni Yacoub, the Beni Abbas, on their high-mettled steeds, with their brilliant equipments, and well-burnished arms. Now appeared Abdel Kader—a plain, unornamented, red burnous flung over his shoulders, riding his favourite black charger. The chiefs of the Beni Hashem, his own tribe, brought up the rear of the splendid _cortège_.

Passing on, as quickly as the crowd would permit—for some thronged round to kiss his hand, some the hem of his burnous, others even his horse’s feet—Abdel Kader reached the tent and dismounted. For some minutes he was lost to view. At length Mehi-ed-deen came forth, leading him by the hand, in order to present him to the people. “Behold the Sultan announced by prophecy!” he exclaimed. “Behold the son of Zohra! Obey him as you would have obeyed me. God protect the Sultan!” “Our lives, our properties, all that we have, are his!” shouted the people. “We will obey no law but that of our Sultan Abdel Kader.”

“I, in my turn,” replied Abdel Kader, “will know no law but the Koran. By the precepts of the Koran, and the Koran alone, will I be guided. If my own brother forfeits his life by the Koran, he shall die.”

Amidst the acclamations which saluted this short but pregnant speech, Abdel Kader vaulted into his saddle, and, followed by all his chiefs, swept at full speed along the Arab lines. At intervals he reined up, briefly ejaculating, “Il Djehad! Il Djehad! Liberty and independence are only in the Djehad. Paradise is in the shade of sabres. Rally round the standard of the Djehad!”

The banners waved, the drums and trumpets sent forth their martial sounds, and the mighty mass, breaking ground, circled round their Sultan in successive squadrons, and then escorted him back to Mascara. After snatching a hasty meal, Abdel Kader shut himself up in a small room, and, summoning his secretaries, dictated the following proclamation:—

“Praise be to God alone, and blessings and salutation from on high on him,[2] after whom there is no prophet.

“To (such and such a tribe), and in particular to its nobles, sheiks, notables, and alemahs.

“May God enlighten you, guide and direct your counsels, and give success to your deeds and actions. The citizens of the districts, Mascara, the Eastern and Western Gharees, and their neighbours and allies, the Beni Sokrân, El Borgiés, the Beni Abbas, the Yacoubiés, the Beni Amer, the Beni Mejaher, and others, have agreed unanimously to appoint me, and have accordingly appointed me, to the government of our country; pledging themselves to obey me in success and in distress, in prosperity and in adversity; and to consecrate their persons, their sons, and their properties to the great and holy cause.

“We have, therefore, assumed this important charge (though with extreme reluctance), hoping it may be the means of uniting the great body of Moslems, of preventing dissensions amongst them, of affording general security to all dwellers in the land, of checking all acts of lawlessness on the part of the disorderly against the well-disposed, and of driving back and overcoming the enemy who has invaded our country with a view of placing their yoke upon our necks.

“As a condition of our acceptance, we have imposed on those who have delegated to us the supreme power, the duty of always conforming, in all their actions, to the holy precepts and teaching of the book of God, and of administrating justice in their various spheres, according to the law of the Prophet; loyally and impartially, to the strong and the weak, the noble and the respectable. This condition has been accepted by them.

“We hereby invite you to be partakers in this pledge, or compact, between ourselves and them. Hasten, therefore, to make manifest your allegiance and obedience; and may God prosper you in this world and in the world to come. My great object is to reform, and to do good as much as in me lies. My trust is in God; and from Him, and Him only, I expect reward and success.

“By order of the Defender of Religion, our sovereign lord, the Prince of the Faithful, Abdel Kader-ibn-Mehi-ed-deen. May God give him the victory. Amen. Dated from Mascara, November 22, 1832.”

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