CHAPTER VI

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1835.

Count D’Erlon visited Oran in the month of June, 1835. Abdel Kader wrote to compliment him on his arrival, and anxiously awaited overtures. The Governor-General was desirous of inviting him to a personal interview. Trezel firmly and successfully pointed out the impolicy of such a step. He maintained that, so far from Abdel Kader being willing to see, much more to aid in, the extension of French dominion in Algeria, he was, in fact, adroitly making the French Government the instrument for his own exaltation, and that to enter into closer relations with him would be tantamount to an approval of his late conduct.

Such, indeed, was the indignation of that uncompromising soldier at the facility with which Abdel Kader was achieving his own ends at the expense, as he conceived, of French honour, and to the great scandal of French common sense and discrimination, that he had more than once been tempted to march against him on his own responsibility. D’Erlon, on the contrary, strongly impressed by this time with the importance and necessity of Abdel Kader’s support, would not hear of any steps being taken that might possibly lead to a rupture; and on returning to Algiers, ordered Trezel carefully to cultivate his friendship and alliance.

Such, however, in a short time, became the state of affairs in the province of Oran, that Trezel had only before him the choice of two courses—either to submit to Abdel Kader’s dictation, and await his sovereign pleasure in all things connected with the interior, or to place himself in such a position as to be enabled to act independently.

The Douairs and Zmelas had resumed a friendly intercourse with the French. Abdel Kader threatened to take them back forcibly to Tlemsen. Those tribes, rather than abandon their crops and be deprived of a profitable traffic, at once demanded French protection. Trezel granted their request; and, hearing that Abdel Kader’s officers were engaged in harassing them with forcible measures—seizing their cattle and carrying off some of their Sheiks—he sent a brigade to their camping ground near Miserghin. On the 16th June, 1835, a treaty, containing eleven articles, was signed by both parties, in which the Douairs and Zmelas were declared French subjects.

Abdel Kader was still desirous to avert hostilities, and even so anxious to avoid any pretext which might lead to them, that he had issued strict orders that no Arab was, under any circumstances, to fire on a Frenchman except in self-defence. He therefore simply wrote to Trezel, strongly protesting against a step which he looked on as a glaring infraction of the treaty of Desmichels, by which the French engaged not to harbour refugees from the tribes, and to send back Arab deserters.

Trezel answered him that he was quite willing to abide by that treaty; but argued that the word “deserter” applied only to individuals, and could never have been intended to extend to whole tribes who preferred French rule to his. Viewing the sense of the treaty in that light, he said, he could never deprive the Douairs and Zmelas of the rights they had obtained.

This notification drew from Abdel Kader the following letter:—

“You know the conditions which Desmichels made with me before you came to Oran, and to which you yourself promised to adhere. By those conditions, every Arab who commits a misdemeanour or crime, and flies to you for refuge and protection, is to be sent back to me, even when it is a question of more than one individual. How much stronger becomes my claim on this point, when it is a question of whole tribes deserting and going over to you!

“The Douairs and Zmelas are my subjects; and according to our law, I have a right to do with them as I please. If you withdraw your protection from them, and let them obey me, as heretofore, it is well. If, on the contrary, you persist in breaking your engagements, recall at once your consul from Mascara; for even should the Douairs and Zmelas enter within the walls of Oran, I will not withdraw my hand from them until they repent and atone for their fault. Moreover, my religion prohibits me from allowing a Mussulman to be under the dominion of a Christian. See what suits you best; otherwise the God of Battles must decide between us.”

Trezel could only reply to such a tone by the sound of cannon. Indeed, hostilities had, in some degree, already begun. A few days previously, the French cavalry, being short of forage, had cut down the crops of the Hashem Gharabas. Abdel Kader, on hearing of this irruption on his family tribe, had moved up 2,000 horse and 800 foot to their vicinity, near the river Sig. Trezel now determined to attack this force before it assumed any greater development. On the 26th of June, 1835, he led out a column for that purpose, consisting of 5,000 infantry, a regiment of Chasseurs d’Afrique, 4 mountain pieces, and 20 waggons for provisions, besides the ordinary ambulance.

Shortly after entering the wood of Muley Ismail, the leading companies opened fire on what they conceived to be a straggling party of the Arabs. The fire was vigorously returned. Presently cavalry appeared. It was Abdel Kader’s advanced guard, coming from the Sig. In a few minutes the French were furiously attacked in front and on their flanks.

The suddenness of the onset, the thickness of the wood, and the undulating nature of the ground, which tended to conceal the real number of the enemy, combined with the shouts and cries by which the Arabs sought to magnify their number, all contributed to shake the steadiness of the French column. In vain were certain changes in its formation attempted: the rear battalions ordered to close up, the centre compacted, and the cavalry thrown out. In a short time the whole body was thrown into confusion, the cavalry was driven in, and the infantry and artillery were only able to fire their discharges at random.

For a while the Arab attack seemed to relent. The French now broke from their ranks. The provision waggons were seized and emptied; the wine casks were staved in. All eat and drank ravenously. At length, by the greatest exertions on the part of the officers, some sort of order was restored, and an onward movement was effected. The banks of the Sig were reached about sunset; and there the French column encamped in solid square.

Fortunately for the French, the main body of Abdel Kader’s army, approaching by forced marches from Tlemsen, had been obliged to halt for a short repose some two leagues higher up the stream. The French, for that night, had a respite. At dawn of day, Trezel commenced a retreat; but Abdel Kader had not been inactive. By a rapid night march he had succeeded in placing himself on the enemy’s line of communication with Oran. Trezel was in no condition to fight his way, and took the direction of the seaport town of Arzew. Knowing the difficulties of a direct movement in that point—part of the intervening country being almost impassable to waggons and artillery carriages—he determined to turn the Hamian Mountains, and to emerge on the plain of Arzew by the defile of the Habra, where that river Habra changes its name to that of the Macta.

Abdel Kader, seeing the direction the French were taking, at once devised their object. If he could only occupy the defile of the Habra before they reached it, he knew they would be at his mercy. But the distance was too great for infantry to accomplish in time to effect his object. Selecting a thousand horsemen, he ordered each rider to mount a foot soldier behind him, and gallop to the spot. This lucky inspiration was crowned with complete success. The French, after patiently toiling across the plain of Ceirat, harassed all the way by the Arab cavalry, entered the defile about mid-day.

To their surprise they found the slopes on either side of them bristling with arms. As they proceeded, huge pieces of rock were hurled down upon them. While the French skirmishers were occupied during two hours in bravely but slowly opening a way, Abdel Kader with his whole army closed in upon them from behind. Their rear guard, fearing to be cut off, pushed on confusedly to the front.

Part of the ambulance and artillery took ground to the right, and got swamped in a marsh. The artillerymen cut their traces and fled. Regiments got intermingled. Companies and sections of companies rushed here and there for places of shelter or escape. Luckily for them, the Arabs were too much occupied in plundering and stripping and slaying the wounded, to follow them into the nooks and corners in which they had sought for refuge. Many, trying to swim the river, were carried away by the stream and drowned. Night came on. The crushed and mutilated mass dropped away towards Arzew in disjointed fragments of helpless and bewildered fugitives.

The Arabs knew no bounds to their exultation. Shouts of joy resounded, and the glare of torches flashed to and fro in the defile all through the night. An aerial spectator might have seen one part of it occupied with busy architects. Drawing near, he would have seen something growing up from the ground, like a pyramid. Bending down and listening, he would have heard frantic cries of “more heads, more heads!” A closer inspection of this work of art would have revealed to the astonished gaze hundreds of French heads, piled up promiscuously.

Abdel Kader rode towards the place about midnight. He reined up, and paused for awhile in silent and painful contemplation. His soul revolted at the ghastly trophy. For the moment he was powerless; but as he passed on, he resolved in his mind that this should be the last of such barbarities.

Such was the terrible episode of the Macta. France was electrified at the news of the disaster. The nation, with one accord, demanded investigation, punishment, and vengeance. D’Erlon was recalled; the brave but unfortunate Trezel was replaced by General D’Arlanges. Marshal Clausel was sent to inaugurate a new era in what was now called the African colony of France; but his new weapons were destined to break in his hands.

In the session of 1835, M. Thiers spoke powerfully in the French Chambers on the subject of the system which had, up to that time, been pursued in Algeria. “It is not colonisation,” he said. “It is not occupation on a large scale; it is not occupation on a small scale. It is not peace; it is not war. It is war badly made.” Roused by this taunt, so bitterly justified by the late deplorable event on the Macta, the French Government at last threw some energy into its mode of action, augmented the army in Algeria, ordered the vigorous prosecution of the war with Abdel Kader, and decreed the occupation of Mascara. It was thought that the seizure of his capital would bring the aspiring young Sultan to terms.

Marshal Clausel arrived at Algiers August 10th, 1835. A pompous proclamation which he issued boastfully announced the speedy submission of the whole regency. A map was at the same time published, showing the colony divided into beylicks, with the names of the native beys appointed to govern them. Abdel Kader was held to be a thing of the past, or, if existing, to be easily disposed of.

This highly satisfactory arrangement, however, never extended beyond the domain of imagination. The marshal’s military deeds were destined to contrast awkwardly with his military dreams. Expeditions to Medea, to Miliana, to Cherchell, all returned with sad tales of humiliation and reverse. “In two months,” he had ostentatiously declared, “the Hadjouts shall cease to be.” The marshal theorised; Abdel Kader performed.

His Khalifa at Miliana descended, by his orders, into the Metija with 5,000 cavalry and infantry, rallied these very Hadjouts, swept the plains of Algiers of all the French colonists, and blockaded Algiers itself. On the other hand, D’Arlanges and the garrison of Oran were reduced to the greatest straits. They were little more than prisoners of war. Abdel Kader had almost realised his threat that not a bird should fly over the towns occupied by the infidels without his leave.

The French everywhere writhed in their fetters. The army breathed fury and indignation, and almost mutinied. From the general to the drummer, all loudly demanded to be led out against the daring and successful Arab who was thus setting them at defiance and enveloping them in the toils of his fearless and enterprising genius. On the 21st of November, 1835, Clausel went to Oran, and prepared to take the field with 12,000 men.

Abdel Kader was already on the alert. His available force, to meet the coming shock, was 8,000 cavalry, 2,000 infantry, and four pieces of cannon. With these he proposed to check, harass, and perhaps scatter, the French army on its line of march. To defend Mascara never entered into his plan; his was not a siege power.

Clausel quitted Oran November 27th. The wood of Muley Ismael was passed, and the fording of the Sig effected without opposition. As the column drew near to the Habra, the Arabs were seen moving in a parallel direction along the adjacent heights. Abdel Kader was watching the moment when a break in the French lines would offer him a favourable point of attack. Clausel, penetrating this intention, halted, closed up, and, making face to his right, advanced against the Arabs, in _échelons_ of battalions from his left.

Abdel Kader refused battle. Leaving his adversary to enjoy the barren fruits of his change of front, he pushed on rapidly, and placed himself across the main road leading to Mascara. His left was posted on an eminence, where he placed his artillery; his right was protected by a wood. His selection of ground would have done honour to a European general.

An able commander may seize a strategical point in such a manner as to decide the fate of a campaign. He may overbear, and even turn to a good account, obstacles apparently insuperable, by tactical skill; he may make time and space subservient to his designs; but he cannot give irregulars the firmness requisite to hold the part assigned to them in a regular order of battle. It was the fate of Abdel Kader to discover now, that, in attempting to realise the theories of European military science in the open field, and on a given ground, with the levies under his command, the elements he wielded were below the requirements of his genius.

Four chapels, dedicated to Sidi Embarek, were occupied by his advanced posts. These the French quickly drove in. The Arab cavalry charged in various places; but they were broken and dispersed by shells and rockets. Abdel Kader directed in person the fire of his artillery. Some well-directed shots had thrown a French brigade into confusion. Immediately he led on his infantry against it. Animated by his presence, his Arabs and Kabyles went in valiantly. But they measured themselves in vain against the courage and obstinacy of French infantry. The struggle on their part was desperate but fruitless, and they retreated in confusion.

The French had in the meantime, and after some hours’ hard fighting, possessed themselves of the wood on the right of the Arab position, whilst their artillery had pushed well up the main road. The Arabs abandoned the field at all points. Abdel Kader vainly endeavoured to preserve some order in the retreat. That night, his regular infantry disbanded. Of the cavalry of the tribes, some went to their homes; others hurried off to Mascara, and began to plunder the place. He himself withdrew to Cachero, his family property, about two leagues beyond that town.

The army of Abdel Kader had melted away like a wreath of snow. It was evident that the French would soon be in Mascara. Tlemsen might even fall into their hands in a brief space of time. Whole tribes, as a probable consequence, would seek safety by submission. Some of his chiefs, on whom Abdel Kader most relied, had already deserted him. His case seemed to be hopeless. But he calmly awaited the time when the panic should subside; he felt assured that it would be only transient. He was mortified and indignant at the stain which had been put upon his fame and reputation by the weakness and pusillanimity of some, and the treason of others. Yet he never uttered an invective or a reproach.

The few followers who remained with Abdel Kader anxiously endeavoured to read his thoughts. The alarmists he re-assured; the faint-hearted he encouraged; to his mother, who, with womanly tenderness and compassion, now approached him to pour words of comfort and consolation in his ear, he calmly replied, taking her hand in his, “Women, mother, have need of pity, not men.”

Clausel entered Mascara December 6, 1835. A miserable crowd of Jews was all that remained of its population. They came out of their dens to crouch at the feet of the victorious French. All masters were alike to these exiles from the Land of Promise. The Mohammedans had disdained to allow them to accompany them in their flight. On the 7th, flames burst forth in various parts of the town, but were soon extinguished. The French were just beginning to repose from their fatigues, and were contemplating a permanent occupation, when, to their surprise and disgust, they got orders to prepare for leaving. On the 8th December, Mascara was evacuated.

The next day, a horseman appeared before its gates. It was Abdel Kader. Rumours of his presence spread rapidly. Some Arabs made their appearance before him; they looked abashed and mistrustful. El Aoura, Aga of the Hashems, was amongst the number. In the flight, he had carried off the royal parasol. He now produced it. “Keep it for yourself,” said Abdel Kader, with a sarcastic smile; “you may, one of these days, be Sultan.”

As the day wore on, some of the fugitive chiefs came dropping in. Abdel Kader eyed them contemptuously. At last, one ventured to ask him, if he had any orders to give them. “My orders!” he exclaimed. “Yes, my orders are, that you instantly relieve me from the burden you imposed upon me, and which the interests of religion alone have enabled me to support, up to this hour. Let the tribes make choice of my successor, and inform Il Hadj Djellali of the result. I am going with my family to Morocco.”

By a common impulse, chiefs and men prostrated themselves before him, kissed his hands, his feet, his burnous, imploring pardon and forgiveness for the past, and promising fidelity and constancy for the future. “He was their father, their Sultan, the chosen of God to lead on the Djehad; their lives were his; if he left them, they had nought to do but surrender to the infidels.” At these last words, Abdel Kader turned round abruptly. The blood mantled to his cheeks. They had struck the only chord to which his heart responded—the sense of duty. “God’s will be done,” he exclaimed; “but remember, I swear never to enter Mascara except to go to the Mosque, until you have avenged your ignominious defeat. I see traitors amongst you; Mamoor yonder is one; let him be hung.” The unfortunate culprit was seized and executed forthwith.

The master spirit had prevailed; confidence was restored. That night, from the royal tent, dispatches went forth to all the tribes, summoning them to renewed action. On the morrow, Abdel Kader, buoyant and cheerful as ever, towering above misfortune, mighty in disaster, dauntless where all desponded, arresting victory in her flight from the very depths of humiliation and defeat, sallied forth, sword in hand, at the head of 6,000 cavalry, to attack and harass the French column, as, wrapped in tempest, drenched with rain, and benumbed with cold, it pursued its incomprehensible retreat on Mostaganem.

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