LAE WAAR SURNEUGECARETELSRUERECERULSEESSERERE SEDO RESSEL ULES setae Ser { i A ceteeteaethaeretedtat oe Las Se PERLE Lee a re I : MAK ANN WY Seni Ze So eG aS . RAHN NY On RRR AH ne ; WY : * : . WY Qn My . WWW" Sa ae WN : . Q ww" '".f_ = OOOOn QOH NS LEAS WON MY x NN x WY MOY 00 e now e, 36 mi eth " am ee ‘ , mi i fh Vids 4 | ay, Mt Mena gf ; é sobibe e e ¢ 8 6 8 ) .) i ae WS Pe ae —~ Pa ssiee a i Si a ee re syrats =. = sons @e SPELL of ALGERIA and TUNISIA THE SPELL SERIES Each volume with one or more colored plates and many illustrations from original drawings or special photographs. Octavo, decorative cover, gilt top, boxed. Per volume, $3.75 By IsasEL ANDERSON THE SPELL OF BELGIUM THE SPELL OF JAPAN THE SPELL OF THE HAWAIIAN ISLANDS AND THE PHILIPPINES By CAROLINE ATWATER MASON THE SPELL OF ITALY THE SPELL OF SOUTHERN SHORES THE SPELL OF FRANCE By ArcHIE BELL THE SPELL OF CHINA THE SPELL OF EGYPT THE SPELL OF THE HOLY LAND By Keita CLark THE SPELL OF SPAIN THE SPELL OF SCOTLAND By W. D. McCrackKan THE SPELL OF TYROL THE SPELL OF THE ITALIAN LAKES By Epwarp NEVILLE VoSsE THE SPELL OF FLANDERS By Burton E. STEVENSON TEE SPELL OF HOLLAND By Jur1a DEW. Anpison THE SPELL OF ENGLAND By NatHan Hasxkett Doe THE SPELL OF SWITZERLAND By FRANK Roy FRAPRIE THE SPELE OF THE RHINE By ANnpReE HALLAYS (Translated by FRANK Rov FRAPRIE) THE SPELL OF ALSACE THE SPELL OF THE HEART OF FRANCE THE SPELL OF PROVENCE By Witt S. Monror THE SPELE CF SICI:Y THE SPELL OF NORWAY By Francis MiLTouNn THE SPELL OF ALGERIA AND TUNISIA L. C. PAGE & COMPANY (INCORPORATED) 53 Beacon Street Boston, Mass. S a. ¥e MemMa be Lane 3a “SB fe j HE CAID OF THE MSAABA Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2022 with funding from Princeton Theological Seminary Library https://archive.org/details/spellofalgeriatuOOmans ARN OF Pi ri Behe spe! Sees , SPELL of ALGERIA | and | UNISIA i\\\oo BY af 3 Francis Miltoun, psev. Officier du Nicham Iftikhar Author of “* Castles and Chateaux of Old Touraine,” “Rambles in Normandy,” “‘ Rambles in Brittany,”” From Drawings and Paintings Done * Rambles on the Riviera,” ““ Castles and Chateaux ect ef Old Navarre and the Basque Provigces,"’ ete. Milburg Francisco” Mansfield i aT, TANCISCS ANSTIEIC|| ali Hy " 4 h imp mr WITH ILLUSTRATIONS By Blanche McManus PC PAGE co (COMPANY | MDCCCCXXIV | | Copyright, 1908 By L. C. Pace & ComMPANY (INCORPORATED ) All rights reserved Made in U.S.A. First Impression, April, 1908 New Edition, September, 1924 PRINTED BY C. H. SIMONDS COMPANY BOSTON, MASS., U.S.A. INTRODUCTION TO NEW EDITION I In reissuing Francis Miltoun’s “‘In the Land of Mosques and Minarets” under the title of ‘The Spell of Algeria and Tunisia,’”’ the publishers have achieved two ends. They have assured to a book, distinguished, sympathetic, and charming, a last- ing position in the literature of travel—inclusion in the well-known “‘Spell Series’; and they have as- sured the preservation of a picture of a fascinating land and people during its most romantic era. The publishers do not claim that the book is a guide book—no travel book is, or should be. Noris it a photographic picture of today. The Algeria of today, alas, 1s, in too many cases, deep beneath a veneer of European civilization. But the real Algeria and the real Tunisia are still there for those who know; the Algeria of Hichens and of the “Algerian Girl.” And it is this Algeria that Mr. Miltoun paints—a land of Mosques and Minarets, of beautiful women and proud men (so few today); of picturesque customs and _ pic- aresque adventures; and beauty and mystery, Introduction all the more intense because European civilization had not crept in with its physical comforts to dull the soul. If a guide book is necessary in order to plan the itinerary, how much more necessary is such a travel book to waken an understanding and true ap- preciation! II A brief survey, however, political and social, of the last fifteen years may prove of interest in con- sidering this land. Mr. Miltoun has sie its past; what is its future? The spheres of influence in North ee which played a part, only second to the situation in the Balkans, as a contributary cause to the World War, © seem now to be on a firm basis. France retains, un- shaken, Tunis, Algeria, and part of Morocco; Italy is unquestioned in Tripoli; and Spain, though at the present writing in difficulties with the natives, has permanent interests in the rest of Morocco. The situation is of importance to all parties. To the European nations concerned, North Africa is the granary that it was to the Romans and Greeks; it is a source of manpower; it is an excellent field for expansion. To the native populace modern colonization methods, of which the keynote is fair- Introduction ness, consideration, and justice, are a blessing. They are given the advantages of physical progress and mental enlightenment, and they are left secure in their spiritual life. Statistics during and since the World War are not easily obtainable. But the countries remain, and probably will continue so, agricultural. The mines have proved valuable, as also the forests, but their development is rendered difficult by their inaccessibility. | Superficially, Algeria has garbed herself in Euro- pean customs, at the same time retaining her dis- tinctive character to a surprising degree. Tram- lines, highways, railroads are now excellent and far- reaching; transportation to Algeria on the Dutch, French, and English lines is extremely comfortable. The tourist of today does not have to suffer the discomforts that confronted his more adventurous brethren twenty years ago. There are now excellent hotels in even the more out-of-the-way places—na- tive, still, but clean and accustomed to European requirements. The administration of the two countries has been stable for some time. Northern Algeria is divided into three departments, Algiers, Oran, and Con- stantine. Each sends to the French National Legis- lature one senator and two deputies; and all laws governing the colony are formulated by that body. Introduction The local Government consists of a Governor- General, a Superior Council and a Lower House. Tunis, with an area of about 50,000 square miles (the boundaries are still somewhat indefinite), has a different status. She is still a protectorate. The Bey is nominally at the head of the government, but his Minister of Foreign Affairs is the French Resi- dent-General. The Bey is assisted by seven French and two Native Ministers, who administer nine departments. THE PUBLISHERS. CHAPTER Contents > GoING AND COMING : : ; : : THE REAL NortH AFRICA . ALGERIA OF TO-DAY . ; : : : THE REGENCE OF TUNISIA AND THE TU- NISIANS : ; , 4 THE RELIGION OF THE MusSULMAN ARCHITECTURE OF THE MosQugEs : Portry, Music, AND DANCING . ARABS, TURKS, AND JEWS SomE TuHinecs THAT MatTreER—TO THE ARAB. : “Tae ARAB Sid WITH ae THE SHIP OF THE DESERT AND His Gore oF SAND : : ‘ : SOLDIERS SAVAGE AND Cee eerie GIONNAIRES AND SPAHIS : From ORAN TO THE Morocco FRONTIER THE MITIDJA AND THE SAHEL THE GREAT WHITE CiTy — ALGIERS . ALGIERS AND BEYOND . KABYLIE AND THE KABYLES CONSTANTINE AND THE GORGE DU RUMMEL BETWEEN THE DESERT AND THE SOWN BIsKRA AND THE DESERT BEYOND In THE WAKE OF THE ROMAN v CC dD DO LO PO D> ON Of CO Co Or Or 320 336 vi Contents CHAPTER PAGE XXII, Tunis AND THE SOUKS : 7 : - 2000 XXIII. In THE SHADOW OF THE MOSQUE : . oil XXIV. Tuer Giory THat OncE Was CARTHAGE . 3889 XXV. THE BARBARY COAST ; ' P : o> 402 XXVI. THe Oasis or Tozeur : : : Peg INDEX . : : : , 4 : eae at List of Illustrations —_——__@——_—_- THE Caip oF THE MSAABA THE APPROACH BY SEA (Map) . , . THe EpGe or THE DESERT : : . SCIREUR ) : : THE FLIGHT OF THE Town (Map) . : ALGERIA AND ITs PROVINCES (Map) TouGGgouRT . . . . . . . FARMING, OLD STYLE. ° : ; - BATNA . : : . . . : Tunista (Map) . : . . An Oup SEAL OF THE BEY OF Te THE Ouives WE Eat. Tue Wor.up oF ISLAM PAGE Frontispiece facing facing facing facing Sacing baie THE Eraut Positions OF THE PEAvRG Mansa, MAN Tue Murzzin’s CALL TO PRAYER A MARABOUT In AN ARAB CEMETERY : A : GROUND PLAN OF A MOSQUE . ° A WINDOW IN AN ARAB HOUSE : : Kousa OF SipI-BRAHIM . 5 A : An ARABIAN MUSICIAN , : 2 A FLUTE SELLER ; : : : «SOUVENIR D’ALGERIE ” ini) - Types OF ARABS : ; JEWISH WoMEN OF TUNIS. “ : Vii facing fucing facing facing facing facing facing 8 12 27 29 100 105 106 120 122 123 131 142 vill List of Illustrations PAGE A DAUGHTER OF THE “GREAT TENTS” . facing 152 THe LIFE OF THE “GREAT TENTS”. : facing 156 An ARAB AND His Horse In Gara ATTIRE facing 172 THE MEHARI OF THE DESERT . . facing 180 A DESERT CARAVAN . : : 1 | © Jacingaeias THE ILLIMITABLE DESERT . : : : ALOE Tur Sanp DuNES OF THE DESEK® . - facing 192 A CAPTAIN OF SPAHIS : ; : « efaciigueccs SomE NATIVE SOLDIERY . : : : : 204 A GouM : : . ‘ . facing 206 ARAB MOSQUE AT psy OUNIF . . . facing 220 A Kir SHOP ee ° ° : - facing 222 LAGHOUAT . : : ° ; : - facing 224 Horet aT Fiauie : . ° : : : - 225 MARKET, BOUFARIK . : ‘ . ‘ : Ae Let ToMB OF S1p1-YACOUB_. : : ° facing 282 A MAvRESQUE OF BLIDA . ; : . facing 2384 FRIEZE AT THE RUISSEAU DES SINGES . : . 2438 ALGIERS AND Its Environs (Map) . . facing 244 A CEMETERY GATE . : : o. . facingmeacn A Bou-Saapa Type . : : . - facing 268 THiIncs SEEN IN KABYLIE . : : : . cer t15) A MINARET AT CONSTANTINE . : ° : . 294 A CONSTANTINE MosquE . ° ° . facing 294 THE GorGE DU RUMMEL . : ° - facing 298 A MussutMAN FUNERAL . : 302 THE VILLAGE AND THE GORGE OF EL Karierre 316 BisKRA AND ITs ARAB VILLAGES (Map). ; - 3d2i THE COURTYARD OF THE HOTEL DES ZIBAN, BISKRA facing 322 Stp1-OKBA . . ° - : - . facing 330 THE Kaspa, Bona . : : facing 338 So-cCALLED ToMB OF CONRT A TIAE (Diora . 842 Toms OF MEDRACEN . : : : ; : . 3843 List of Illustrations ix PAGE LAMBESSA AND Its Ruins . : . . facing 346 LAMBESSA (Map) ‘ ° ° . . 347 TiIMGAD (Map) ; : ° ° , ° ° . 349 TEBESSA (Diagram) ° 4 ° . : . . 353 Morsotr (Diagram) : : : : 5 . 3855 In THE Bazaars, Tunis. ° : : facing 3860 A STREET OF Mosques, Tunis . : pa FACING e300 DancinGe GIRLS OF TUNIs . : ° ° : . 369 HABis’s VISITING CARD. : ° ; : ate), THE PorTs OF CARTHAGE . ° ° - facing 390 CARTHAGE (Map) . : : » 895 ANCIENT Utica (Diagram) . : : : : . 398 THE SuD-TUNISIEN (Map) . . . 404 In a Karrouan Mosque . : . - facing 410 AMPHITHEATRE AT EL DJEM ; : . 413 EL OUED . : ; : ; ; ue CTU ee eo A STREET IN TOZEUR ° ‘ . - facing 420 The Spell of Algeria and Tunisia ——_—__——_ CHAPTER I GOING AND COMING ‘* Say, dear friend, wouldst thou go to the land where pass the caravans beneath the shadow of the palm trees of the Oasis; where even in mid-winter all is in flower as in spring-time else. where.’? — VILLIERS DE L’Is~tE ADAM. Tuer taste for travel is an acquired accom- plishment. Not every one likes to rough it. Some demand home comforts; others luxuri- ous appointments; but you don’t get either of these in North Africa, save in the palace ho- tels of Algiers, Biskra and Tunis, and even there these things are less complete than many would wish. We knew all this when we started out. We had become habituated as it were, for we had been there before. The railways of North Af- rica are poor, uncomfortable things, and ex- cruciatingly slow; the steamships between Mar- 1 2 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets seilles or Genoa and the African littoral are either uncomfortably crowded, or wobbly, slow- going tubs; and there are many discomforts of travel —not forgetting fleas — which con- siderably mitigate the joys of the conventional traveller who affects floating hotels and Pull- man car luxuries. The wonderful African-Mediterranean set- ting is a patent attraction and is very lovely. Every one thinks that; but it is best always to take ways and means into consideration when journeying, and if the game is not worth the candle, let it alone. This book is not written in commendation only of the good things of hfe which one meets with in North Africa, but is a personal record of things seen and heard by the artist and the author. As such it may be accepted as a faith- ful transcript of sights and scenes — and many correlative things that matter —which will prove to be the portion of others who follow after. These things have been seen by many who have gone before who, however, have not had the courage to paint or describe them as they found them. Victor Hugo discovered the Rhine, Thé- ophile Gautier Italy, De Nerval the Orient, and Merimée Spain; but they did not blush over Going and Coming 3 the dark side and include only the more charm- ing. For this reason the French descriptive writer has often given a more faithful picture of strange lands than that limned by Anglo- Saxon writers who have mostly praised them in an ignorant, sentimental fashion, or reviled them because they had left their own damp sheets and stogy food behind, and really did not enjoy travel — or even life — without them. There is a happy mean for the travellers’ mood which must be cultivated, if one is not born with it, else all hope of pleasurable travel is lost for ever. The comparison holds good with regard to North Africa and its Arab population. Sir Richard Burton certainly wrote a masterful work in his ‘‘ Pilgrimage to Mecca and Me- dina,’’ and set forth the Arab character as no one else has done; but he said some things, and did some things, too, that his fellow coun- trymen did not like, and so they were loth to accept his great work at its face value. The African Mediterranean littoral, the mountains and the desert beyond, and all that lies between, have found their only true ex- ponents in Mme. Myriam Harry, MM. Louis Bertrand, Arnaud and Maryval, André Gide and Isabelle Eberhardt, and Victor Barrucaud. 4 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets These and some others mentioned further on are the latter-day authorities on the Arab life of Africa, though the makers of Hnglish books on Algeria and Tunisia seem never to have heard of them, much less profited by their next- to-the-soil knowledge. Instead they have pre- ferred to weave their romances and novels on ‘* home-country ’’ lines, using a Mediterranean or Saharan setting for characters which are not of Africa and which have no place therein. This book is a record of various journeyings in that domain of North Africa where French influence is paramount; and is confidently of- fered as the result of much absorption of first- hand experiences and observations, coupled with authenticated facts of history and ro- mance. All] the elements have been found sur place and have been woven into the pages which follow in order that nothing desirable of local colour should be lost by allowing too great an expanse of sea and land to intervene. The story of Algeria and Tunisia has so often been told by the French, and its moods have so often been painted by les “‘ gens d’es- prit et de talent,’ that a foreigner has a con- siderable task laid out for him in his effort to do the subject justice. Think of trying to catch the fire and spirit of Fromentin, of Loti, of the Going and Coming 5 Maupassants or Masqueray, or the local colour of the canvases of Dinet, Armand Point, Pot- ter, Besnard, Constant, Cabannes, Guillaumet, or Ziem! Then go and try to paint the picture as it looks to you. Yet why not? We live to learn; and, as all the phases of this subtrop- ical land have not been exploited, why should we — the author and artist — not have a hand in it? So we started out. The mistral had begun to blow at Martigues (la Venise Provencal known by artist folk of all nationalities, but unknown — as yet — to the world of tourists), where we had made our Mediterranean head- quarters for some years, but the sirocco was still blowing contrariwise from the south on the African coast, and it was for that reason that the author, the artist and another — the agreeable travelling companion, a rara avis by the way — made a hurried start. We were tired of the grime and grind of cities of convention; and were minded, after another round of travel, to repose a bit in some half-dormant, half-progressive little town of the Barbary coast, or some desert oasis where one might, if he would, still dream the dreams of the Arabian nights and days, regardless of a certain reflected glamour of vulgar modernity 6 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets which filters through to the utmost Saharan outposts from the great ports of the coast. By a fortunate chance weather and circum- stances favoured this last journey, and thus the making of this book became a most enjoy- able labour. We left Marseilles for the land of the sun at six of an early autumn evening, the “* heure verte ’’ of the Marseillais, when the whole Can- nebiere smells of absinthe, alcohol, and anise, and all the world is at ease after a bustling, rustling day of busy affairs. These men of the Midi, though they seemingly take things easy are a very industrious race. There is no such virile movement in Paris, even on the boule- vards, as one may witness on Marseilles’ fa- mous Cannebiére at the seducing hour of the Frenchman’s apéritif. Marseilles is a ceaseless turmoil of busy workaday affairs as well. From the ever-present gaiety of the Cannebi- ére cafés it is but a step to the great quais and their creaking capstans and shouting long- shoremen. From the quais of La Joliette all the world and his wife come and go in an interminable and constant tide of travel, to Africa, to Cor- sica and Sardinia; to Jaffa and Constantino- ple; to Port Said and the East, India, Aus- Going and Coming 7 tralia, China and Japan; and_ westward, through Gibraltar’s Strait to the Mexican Gulf and the Argentine. The like of Marseilles ex- ists nowhere on earth; it is the most brilliant and lively of all the ports of the world. It is the principal seaport of the Mediterranean and the third city of France. Our small, tubby steamer slipped slowly and silently out between the Joliette quais and past the towering Notre Dame de la Garde and the great Byzantine Cathedral of Sainte Marie Majeur, leaving the twinkling lights of the Vieux Port and the Pharo soon far behind. Past Chateau d’If, the Point des Catalans, Ratonneau and Pomégue we steamed, all rem- iniscent of Dumas and that masterpiece of his gallant portrait gallery,—‘‘ The Count of Monte Cristo.’’ _ The great Planier light flashed its rays in our way for thirty odd miles seaward, keeping us company long after we had eaten a good dinner, a very good dinner indeed, with café- cognac —or chartreuse, real chartreuse, not the base imitation, mark you, tout compris, to top off with. The boat was a poor, wallowing thing of eight hundred tons or so, but the din- ner was much better than many an Atlantic liner gives. It had character, and was served q f La In : Ce ; | 3 i a hi i tt = Et i rth, _ , Ms : | nth ot 7 | i Z.- j ‘ : u vite Hey i Going and Coming 9 in a tiny saloon on deck, with doors and ports all open, and a gentle, sighing Mediterranean brise wafting about our heads. | We were six passengers all told, and we were very, very comfortably installed on the [sly of the Compagnie Touache, in spite of the fact that the craft owned to twenty-seven years and made only ten knots. The Compagnie Géné- rale Transatlantique has boats of the compara- tively youthful age of twelve and seventeen, but they are so crowded that one is infinitely less comfortable, though they make the voyage at a gait of fifteen or sixteen knots. Then again the food 1s by no means so good or well served as that we had on the Isly. We have tried them both, and, as we asked no favours of price or accommodation in either case, the opinion may be set down as frank, truthful and personal. What others may think all depends on themselves and circumstance. In Algeria, at any rate, one doesn’t find trip- pers, and there are surprisingly few of what the French call ‘** Anglaises sans-géne’’ and ** Allemands grotesques.’’ The traveller in Algeria should by all means eliminate his countrymen and study the native races and the French colons, if he wishes to know something of the country. Otherwise he 10 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets will know nothing, and might as well have gone to a magic-lantern show at home. It is a delightfully soft, exotic land which the geographers know as Mediterranean Af- rica, and which is fast becoming known to the world of modern travellers as the newest win- ter playground. The tide of pleasure-seeking travel has turned towards Algeria and Tunisia, but the plea is herein made to those who follow after for the better knowing of the places off the beaten track, Bou-Saada, Kairouan, the Oasis of Gabés, Oued-Souf or Tlemcen, for instance, something besides Mustapha, Biskra and Tunis. Darkest Africa is no more darkest Africa. That idea was exploded when Stanley uttered his famous words: ‘‘ Doctor Livingstone, I presume.’’ And since that day the late Cecil Rhodes launched his Cape to Cairo scheme, and Africa has been given over to diamond-mine exploiters, rubber collectors and semi-invalids, who, hearing wonderful tales of the climatic conditions of Assouan and Biskra, have fore- gathered in these places, to the joy of the na- tive and the profit of the hotel director — usu- ally a Swiss. Occasionally one has heard of an adventur- ous tourist who has hunted the wild gazelle in Going and Coming 11 the Atlas or the mountains of Kabylie, the gen- tlest man-fearing creature God ever made, or who has ‘‘ camped-out ’’ in a tent furnished by Cook, and has come home and told of his ex- ploits which in truth were more Tartarinesque than daring. The trail of the traveller is over all to-day; but he follows as a rule only the well-worn pistes. In addition to those strangers who live in Algiers or Tunis and have made of those cities weak imitations of Kuropean capitals and their suburbs as characterless as those of Paris, London or Chicago, they have also im- ported such conventions as “‘ bars ”’ and ‘‘ tea- rooms ’’ to Biskra and Hammam-R’hira. Tlemcen and its mosques, however; Figuig and its fortress-looking Grand Hotel du Sa- hara at Beni-Ounif; Touggourt and its market and its military posts; and Bou-Saada and Tozeur with their oases are as yet compara- tively unknown ground to all except artists who have the passion of going everywhere and any- where in search of the unspoiled. When it comes to Oued-Souf with its one ‘* Maison francaise,’’ which, by the way, is in- habited by the Frenchified Sheik of the Msaaba to whom a chapter in this book might be de- voted; or Ghardaia, the Holy City of the Sud- 12 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets Constantinois, the case were still more differ- ent. This is still virgin ground for the stran- ger, and can only be reached by diligence or caravan. The railway with a fairly good equipment runs all the length of Algeria and Tunisia, from the Moroccan frontier at Tlemcen to Gabes and beyond, almost to the boundary of Tripoli in Barbary. An automobile would be much quicker, and in some parts even a donkey, but the railway serves as well as it ever does in a new-old country where it has recently been installed. If one enters by Algiers or Oran and leaves by Tunis or even Sfax or Gabés he has done the round; but if opportunity offers, he should go south from Tlemcen into the real desert at Figuig; from Biskra to Touggourt; or from Gabés to Tozeur. Otherwise he will have so kept ‘‘in touch ’’ with things that he ean, for the asking, have oatmeal for breakfast and marmalade for tea, which is not what one comes, or should come, to Africa for. One takes his departure from French Mediterra- nean Africa from Tunis or Bizerte. Leaving Tunis and its domes and minarets behind, his ship makes its way gingerly out through the straight-cut canal, a matter of six jdasagy ayy fo Is pi ay Aa & 7 toe } f= ek, Going and Coming 13 or eight miles to La Goulette, a veritable Ital- ian fishing village in Africa which the Italian population themselves call La Goletta. Here the pilot is sent ashore, — he was a useless per- sonage anyway, but he touches a hundred and fifty frances for standing on the bridge and doing nothing, — the ship turns a sharp right angle and sets its course northward for Mar- seilles, leaving Korbus and the great double- horned mountain far in the distance to star- board. Carthage and its cathedral, and Sidi-bou- Said and its minarets are to port, the red soil forming a rich frame for the scintillating white walls scattered here and there over the land- scape. La Marsa and the Bey’s summer palace loom next in view, Cap Carthage and Cap Bon, and then the open sea. Midway between Tunis and Marseilles, one sees the red porphyry rocks of Sardinia. Off- shore are the little isles which terminate the greater island, the ‘‘ Taureau,’’ the ‘‘ Vache ”’ and the ‘‘ Veau.’’ They are only interesting as landmarks, and look like the outcrop- pings of other Mediterranean islands. In bad weather the mariners give them a wide berth. The sight of Sardinia makes no impression on the French passengers. They stare at 1, 14 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets and remark it not. The profound contempt of the Frenchman of the Midi for all things Ital- ian is to be remarked. Corsica is left to star- board, still farther away, in fact not visible, but the Frenchman apparently does not regret this either, even though it has become a French Département. ‘* Peuh: la Corse,’’ he says, ‘““un vilain pays,’’ where men pass their ex- istence killing each other off. Such is the out- come of traditional, racial rancour, and yet the most patriotic Frenchman the writer has ever known was a Corsican. ‘“ Void! le Cap Sicié!’’ said the command- ant the second morning at ten o’clock, as he stood on the bridge straining his eyes for a sight of land. We didn’t see it, but we took his word for it. A quarter of an hour later it came into view, the great landmark promon- tory, which juts out into the Mediterranean just west of Toulon. Just then with a swish and a swirl, and with as icy a breath as ever blew south from the snow-clad Alps, down came the mistral upon us, and we all went below and passed the most uncomfortable five hours imaginable, anchored off the Estaque, in full view of Marseilles, and yet not able to enter harbour. The Gulf of Going and Coming 1a) Lyons and the mistral form an irresistible com- bination of forces once they get together. At last in port; the dowanier keeps a sharp lookout for cigars and cigarettes (which in Algeria and Tunisia sell for about a quarter of what they do in France), and in a quarter of an hour we are installed in that remarkably equipped ‘‘ Touring Hotel ’’ of Marseilles’ Cours Belzunce. Art nouveau furniture, no heavy rugs or draperies, metallic bedsteads, and hot and cold running water in every room. This is a good deal to find on this side of the Atlantic. The house should be made note of by all coming this way. Not in the palace ho- tels of Algiers, Biskra or Tunis can you find such a combination. CHAPTER II THE REAL NORTH AFRICA ‘* Africque apporte tousjours quelque chose de nouveau.” — RABELAIS Auceria and Tunisia are already the vogue, and Biskra, Hammam-R’hira and Mustapha are already names as familiar as Cairo, Amalfi or Teneriffe, even though the throng of ‘‘ colts vwants expédiés par Cook,’’ as the French call them, have not as yet overrun the land. For the most part the travellers in these delightful lands, be they Americans, English or Germans (and the Germans are almost as numerous as the others), are strictly unlabelled, and each goes about his own affairs, one to Tlemcen to paint the Moorish architecture of its mosques, another to Biskra for his health, and another to Tunis merely to while away his time amid exotic surroundings. This describes well enough the majority of travellers here, but the other categories are Increasing every day, and occasionally a ‘* tourist-steamship ’’ drops down three or four 16 The Real North Africa 17 hundred at one fell swoop on the quais of Al- giers or Tunis, and then those cities become as the Place de l’Opéra, or Piccadilly Circus. These tourists only skirt the fringe of this in- teresting land, and after thirty-six hours or so go their ways. One does not become acquainted with the real North Africa in any such fashion. The picturesque is everywhere in Algeria and Tunisia, and the incoming manners and eustoms of outre-mer only make the contrast more remarkable. It is not the extraordinary thing that astonishes us to-day, for there is no more virgin land to exploit as a touring-ground. It is the rubbing of shoulders with the dwellers in foreign lands who, after all, are human, and have relatively the same desires as ourselves, which they often satisfy in a different manner, that makes travel enjoyable. What Nubian and Arab Africa will become later, when European races have still further blended the centuries-old tropical and sub- tropical blood in a gentle assimilated adapta- tion of men and things, no one can predict. The Arab has become a very good engineer, the Berber can be trained to become a respec- table herder of cattle, as the Egyptian fellah has been made into a good farmer, or a motor- 18 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets man on the electric railway from Cairo to the Pyramids. What the French eall the ‘‘ Empire Euro- péen ’’ is bound to envelop Africa some day, and France will be in for the chief part in the division without question. The French seem to understand the situation thoroughly; and, with the storehouse of food products (Algeria and Tunisia, and perhaps by the time these lines are printed, Morocco) at her very door, she is more than fortunately placed with re- gard to the development of this part of Africa. The individual German may come and do a little trading on his own account, but it is France as a nation that is going to prosper out of Africa. This is the one paramount as- pect of the real North Africa of to-day as it has been for some generations past, a fact which the Foreign Offices of many powers have overlooked. It is a pity that the whole gamut of the cur- rent affairs of North Africa is summed up in many minds by the memory of the palpably false sentiment of the school of. fictionists which began with Ouida. Let us hope it has ended, for the picturing of the local colour of Medi- terranean and Saharan Africa is really beyond the romancer who writes love-stories for the The Real North Africa 19 young ladies of the boarding-schools, and the new women of the art nouveau boudoirs. The lithe, dreamy young Arab of fiction, who falls in love with lonesome young women en voyage alone to some tourist centre, is purely a myth. There is not a real thing about him, not even his clothes, much less his sentiments; and he and his picturesque natural surroundings jar horribly against each other at best. The Cigarette of ‘‘ Under Two Flags ’’ was not even a classically conventional figure, but simply a passionate, tumultuous creature, lov- able only for her inconsistencies, which in real- ity were nothing African in act or sentiment, though that was her environment. The English lord who became a ‘‘ Chasseur d’Afrique ’’ was even more unreal — he wasn’t a ‘‘ Chasseur d’Afrique,’’ anyway, he was sim- ply a member of the ‘‘ Légion Etrangére; ’”’ but doubtless Ouida cared less for minutely pre- cise detail than she did to exploit her uncon- ventional convictions. The best novels of to- day are something our parents never dreamed of! Exclamations and exhortations of the characters of ‘‘ Under Two Flags,’’ ‘‘ Mon Amour,’’ ‘‘ Ma Patrie,’’ ‘‘ Les Enfants,’’ are not African. They belong to the parasite fau- bourgs of Paris’ fortifications. Let no one 20 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets make the mistake, then, of taking this crop of North African novels for their guide and men- tor. Much better go with Cock and be done with it, if one lacks the initiative to launch out for himself, and make the itinerary by railway, diligence and caravan. If he will, one can travel by diligence all over Mediterranean Af- rica, and by such a means of locomotion he will best see and know the country. The diligence of the plain and mountain roads of Algeria and Tunisia is as remarkable a structure as still rolls on wheels. Its coun- terpart does not exist to-day in France, Swit- zerland or Italy. It is generally driven by a portly Arab, with three wheelers and four lead- ers, seven horses in all. It is made up of many compartments and stories. There is a rez-de- chaussée, a mezzanine floor and a roof garden, with prices varying accordingly as comfort in- creases or decreases. : ae rau vie aT [tel pa 2 c- oe 7 ~~ ire 7 - 2 Pr oa Ss as ei = a 4 ahi to a is seh 2 = © : 7 7 at Pe eA hy +, “3 a * a 4 , o Eee it 7 a ¥ is ore | _ ; ee j Od er ae a ; j one: i ; Fi ‘ie te _ . 7 Py ' i, 7 - a ; oo . ud ; a : me , oo 3 ; : 7, ' = eof, * d - “7 t : a o \ -) ; ot be ow - Py ¢ nae. y : = xs + 7 oe : ¥ Pi . 7 , 2. Si eae ~~ ‘ - at 7 ot ‘a ‘ ? ¢ = i‘ ba Gj ” > - Me 2 i) | . : 7 L ~§ a 7 y ; oc © mat ‘ » a. na. Yd. 7) o A ay ‘ . - x “d uy a 2 i. = , Ff - : ’ “ i ’ at oor 7 ee ae an . @ © oad : a «7 7 a > oll oo r™ y oY Bae to ie : - . . ’ i = = : _ : e¢ 7) -) aoe ioe ; ¥. . ; .. he. pee st °_ a? = ; : e- ; ; $ at eee oo -_— oo ) i 7 2 ° ' Fa =—s oe - is a 2 2% =} » Ss at : : ‘Uk, tek oe = 7 ~_ & G a From Oran to Morocco Frontier 225 metres, the only communication being by the caravan trail, is Laghouat, another outpost of civilization on the desert’s edge. Laghouat, like most desert towns, like Toug- gourt, like Tozeur, like Biskra even, is an oasis. In its markets one may see the traffickings of all | Ne pi ar GRAND HO EL DUSAy :@ Hotel at Figuig the desert types of the Sahara, from the M’zab —the Auvergnats of Algeria — to the wander- ing nomads of the south, — the tramps of the desert, not omitting the picturesque Ouled- Nails and the terrible Touaregs, with their still more terrible-looking guns and their heads swathed in black veils. At Laghouat and Figuig one gets the truest perspective of the life of the desert that one can have short of Oued-Souf in the Sud-Con- stantinois. Biskra is in the class of ‘‘ exploited tourist points,’’ whilst these desert towns are 226 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets practically inaccessible to all but the hardiest of travellers,—the real genuine travel-lover, not those who are averse to riding in creaky diligences with dusky Arabs for companions, or on mule, donkey, or camel back, for all these means of locomotion come into the desert itin- erary. CHAPTER XIV THE MITIDJA AND THE SAHEL THe whole region just west of Algiers is very properly accounted the garden of North Africa. Wheat, the vine, the orange, and all the range of primeurs which go to grace the tables d’hdte at Paris are grown here to the profit of all and sundry, native and colonist alike, who possess a garden plot of virgin soil. Boufarik, in the midst of the great plain of the Mitidja, is a garden city if there ever was one. It is beautifully and geometrically laid out, like Philadelphia, though it doesn’t re- semble the Quaker City in the least; it is more lively. zt The great day at Boufarik is the market day, when a great cattle and sheep market is held (every Monday week). To-day. this great mar- ket is a survival of one which has been held for ages. The coming of the French made for the in- creased prosperity of Boufarik, and its former reputation of being a pest-hole has been en- 227 228 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets tirely overridden by a series of civic improve- ments which not only resulted in cleaning up the town but made it really beautiful as well. The Monday market at Boufarik is one of the things to come out from Algiers to see. For once put carriage or automobile behind and Market, Boufarik travel out by train or diligence, and mingle with the people and see what the real native life of Algeria is like, so far as it can be seen, uncon- taminated by foreign influence. Better yet, go out the night before and sleep at the Hotel Benoit. It is unlovely enough as an inn, but the dishes served at dinner and breakfast are The Mitidja and the Sahel 229 very good; reminiscent of North Africa, but bountiful and excellent. There is nothing of- fensive or unclean about the hotel, if it is crude; but the colour one gathers on the palette of his memory is very local. From the afternoon of Sunday, on all the roads leading into Boufarik, from Cherchell and the Sahel, from Miliana, from Blida and Algiers, throng the thousands that will make up the personnel of to-morrow’s market. They come on camel-back, on horses, mules, and donkeys, on foot, by diligence, and by rail, herded in flat unroofed cars like cattle. Some are the pure Arab type of the sandy dunes and plains of the waste Sahara, others Berber-Ka- byles, and others Jews, Maltese, Spaniards, French, Italians and — tell it not in Gath — Germans. The contrast of the types is as great as the contrast between their modes of convey- ance, the contrast between the plodding little donkeys and the great, tall, lumpy camels. The comings and goings of the great native market of Boufarik are a perpetual migration, and there is nothing the Arab likes more than to participate in such an affair. It is his great passion and diversion, and the fact that he stands to gain a little money is not so much an object with him as to kill a little time. 230 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets From daybreak, the vast quadrangle on the Route de Blida, outside Boufarik’s rectangular fortifications, 1s given over to tents, shops, and booths. Here and there is a corral of donkeys or mules, or a pen full of sheep. Braying donkeys and bleating sheep are everywhere. The great avenues of plane-trees form a grove, and wherever they cross some more powerful or wily trader has squatted on the ground, to the discomfort of his less fortunate competitor, who, perforce, has to content himself with the shady side of a camel. Leading up to this unique market-place is a splendid avenue of orange-trees. A superb disorder of trumpery brummagem cutlery, stuffs, firearms and pots and pans clut- ter the ground in every direction. Water-sell- ers and milk-sellers are threading everywhere, each loaded down with. his peau de bouc, and fruit and bread sellers with their wicker bas- kets. Saddlery, horseshoes, ropes of hemp, jute, and camel’s-hair all mingle in a pictur- esque chaos. There are even hand sewing-ma- chines, of the little doll-house variety that the native populations of India, Japan, Patagonia affect as their sole intercourse with modernity. A few women mingle among the groups, but The Mitidja and the Sahel 231 mostly the crowd 1s made up of men. Rarely are these market women beautiful except in a savage way. ‘They possess most of the male characteristics of manner, and but few of the wiles and little of the coquettishness of woman. Their visages are tanned to copper colour and sowed with ridges and folds. Many indeed are out and out negresses. Here beside a stall sits a Soudan negress of fat, flabby visage and large round eyes, as ami- able as some greasy animal in captivity — and about as intelligent. She is only a watcher or caretaker; the real owner of the stall, with its melons, its skins, and its baskets, is over yon- der in a Moorish café playing dominoes. From her head and shoulders hang great chains of silver, and in the lobes of her ears are pendants which may be gold or not. She is a barbaric savage, splendid in her savagery and indifferent, apparently, to everything and everybody. But she is part of the setting nevertheless, and she is good to see. The coast plain west of Algiers, the Sahel properly called, is in strong contrast with the cultivated plain of the Mitidja. The whole journey from Algiers out to Cherchell and back, via Miliana, Blida, and Boufarik, gives one as 232 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets good an idea of the ancient and modern civili- zation of North Africa as one could possibly have. Blida sits calmly in its fertile plain at the foot of the imposing hills which, grouped to- gether, form the mountains of the Beni-Salah. All round about are orange groves and olive- trees of the very first splendour and produc- tion. The Bois Sacré, Blida’s chief sight, is as picturesque and romantic a woodland as the sentiment of a poet or an artist ever con- jured up. Blida dates from the sixteenth century, when a number of Andalusian families settled here because of the suitability of the region for the cultivation of the orange, — and the commerce has been growing ever since. In the olden times Blida was known as QOuarda, the little rose; but afterwards when the Turks and Cor- sairs held their orgy there, it came to be called Khaaba, the prostitute. Since that day it has got back its good name and is one of the liveliest, daintiest, and altogether attractive small cities of Algeria. The native and the French alike know it is la voluptueuse or la parfumee. Within Blida’s Bois Sacré is the venerated marabout of Sidi-Yacoub-ech-Cheérif, one of the rT 1 Uu q { 0 LC Mi L} As Bs ) 0: Ll ql The Mitidja and the Sahel 233 celebrated kouba shrines of Islam. No repro- duction of it can do its cool, leafy surroundings justice. -It is the very ideal of a holy man’s retreat and one of the most appealing of shrines to those possessed of the artist’s eye. Fragonard or Corot might have spent a life- time painting the forest interiors of the un- spoiled wild-wood of Blida’s Bows Sacré. The writer is not sure that the author of ‘‘ Mignon ’’ ever saw or heard of Blida, but his verses were most apropos: « Connais-tu le pays ot fleurit l’oranger, Le pays des fruits d’or et des roses vermeilles ? Ou rayonne et sourit comme un bienfait de Dieu, Un éternel printemps sous un ciel toujours bleu. C’est la que je voudrais vivre, mimeriet mournr 2i.yvaCrest la les.” ~ In connection with Blida it is worthy of rec- ord that the celebrated and venerable bach- agha Sid Ben Gannah, of Biskra, Grand-Chef of the Sud-Constantinois, recently underwent a ‘‘cure’’ at the military hospital at Blida. His malady had become a chronic one, and his complete restoration to health through the aid of the capable doctors of the hospital and the mild soft air of Blida has done more than any- 234 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets thing else to allay the fanatical superstition of the native against the efficacy of the proper pro- fessional treatment of the sick. The ‘‘ cure ’’ experienced by their favourite bach-agha, the friend of the King of England and bearer of a hundred personal decorations, the ‘‘ grand old man ’’ of the country, has been heralded wide amongst the natives, from Con- stantine to Beni-Souf, and Ouardja to El] Oued, and has struck the death-knell of the voodooism of the indigéne “* toubibs ’’ and quacks. For many years yet, it is to be hoped, the native may continue to demand the benedictions of Mohammed for their respected chief: “* Ou sela Allah ala ou moulano on ala hebel daro ou ala sahabou ou Salem! ’’ A peculiarity of the Mauresques of Blida is that they veil themselves in a most strange manner. Instead of covering their faces, leav- ing only two glittering black eyes peeping out, they cover all but one eye. A woman who veils after that manner looks suspicious. Beware! At the Mediterranean extremity of the great plain in which lies Blida — a veritable Garden of Eden, with oranges, figs, grapes, pomegran- ates and even the apples of Eve —is the little hill-town of Kolea. 3 Kolea is extraordinary from every point of A Mauresque oj Blida The Mitidja and the Sahel 25 view. Kolea is a military town; the Zouaves are everywhere, and in their train have come a following of Greeks, Turks, and Maltese. But the lttle garden-town with its Jardin des Zouaves, its two mosques, its turreted foun- tain and its modern Renaissance Mairie is at- tractive throughout, albeit it is not the least Oriental. The Hotel de France, partly Moorish (the good part), and partly French (the ugly part), is one of those French inns that are indescri- bably excellent. There is a sure-to-be Gabrielle who presides at the cook stove and another who serves at table and orders up the vin rosé from the cellar when the red or the white wine is too strong (16 degrees) for one’s taste. They are wonderfully good, those wines of the Sahel. It is a remarkably brilliant strip of coast- line extending west from Algiers, and it should be covered in its entirety as far as Cherchell if one would realize the varied beauties and at- tractions of the Algerian littoral. From Saint- EKugéne and Point Pescade, suburbs of Algiers, a fine road extends all the way to Cherchell, a matter of nearly a hundred kilometres, the tur- quoise Mediterranean always to the right. At Sidi-Ferruch the French troops first landed when on their conquest of Algeria. At 236 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets Staouéli-la-Trappe is an abbey where there are a hundred and fifty lay brothers who grow oranges and fine fruits, and while their dull lives away comfortably under the brilliant skies of Africa. : Going still further along the coast, we come to Castiglione, sheltering itself behind a sand- dune, from whence it is but a few kilometres to the ‘‘ Tombeau de la Chrétienne,’’ as impo- sing and extraordinary a monument as any of the pyramids of Ghizeh. Architecturally, if not beautiful, it is imposing, and mysterious, in that it is constructed on a most original plan. It is a great mound of superimposed cut stone, entered by a pillared portico, now somewhat ruined. This funeral monument has an appeal for the archeologist and the merely curious alike far beyond many a more conventional monument of its class. The gigantic monument is still supposed to contain many and wonder- ful treasures, unless they were removed and lost in the forgotten past, for as yet none have been brought to light. Tradition has the fol- lowing tale to tell of this monumental sepul- chre. One day a Christian woman, fleeing from a rabble of unholy men and women, took refuge in this commemorative shrine, built by some The Mitidja and the Sahei ay holy person whose name is forgotten. Her pur- suers, coming upon her in her retreat, would have fallen upon her and done her injury, even as she was at her prayers, when suddenly a myriad of flies, mosquitoes, and wasps put the invaders to flight. The frightened woman lived a hermit’s life here in her stronghold, and at the end of her span came to die within the im- penetrable walls. Ever afterward the cone-like mound was known as the Tombeau de la Chre- tienne. The Arabs call this bizarre tomb Kaber- Roumia. In 1866 it was explored by a band of archeologists, who decided that it was the tomb of the Kings of Mauretania, built by Jubal II in the reign of the great Augustus. The reader may take his choice of the rea- sons for the existence of this remarkable monu- ment. One is about as well authenticated as the other. It existed already in 1555, for the rec- ords tell that a Pacha of Algiers, Salah Rais, tried, but without success, to destroy the edifice by firing stone cannon-balls at the mass. Noth- ing happened; the monument was not despoiled of its outlines even. This fact speaks badly either for the old Turkish ammunition or for the skill of the gunners who fired it. Tipaza, the chef heu of a commune with a 238 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets population of between two or three thousand, is a little coast town and comes next on the itinerary from Algiers to Cherchell. At Tipaza are still more Roman ruins, cover- ing an area over two thousand metres square. Tipaza was one of the cities of Mauretania where the Christian religion was practised with the utmost fervour. The patron saint of the place was one Salsa, a young girl, who, accord- ing to tradition, was put to death at the begin- ning of the fourth century for having destroyed a pagan idol. Such was religious partisanship of the time. A century later the Vandal king Hunéric, in order to subdue Christianity, caused all those professing it to have their right hands cut off and their tongues cut out. This was the extreme of cruelty and its effect on Christendom is historic. The Roman monuments still existing at Ti- paza include a theatre, which is in a poor state of preservation. This has been restored in re- eent years to the extent that commemorative dramatic performances have been held here in the open air, as at Carthage, and at Orange in Provence. The outlines of a great basilica of nine naves, where Sainte Salsa was buried, are still well preserved, and there are also some- thing more than fragments of the baths and The Mitidja and the Sahel 239 water-works, which supplied the drinking water for the surrounding country. From Tipaza to Cherchell is thirty kilometres by road, which is the only means of reaching the latter place unless one goes from Algiers by steamer along the coast, a voyage not to be recommended for various reasons. ‘Cherchell possesses the best-preserved out- lines of an historic occupation of the past of any of the old Roman settlements of the ‘‘ Dé- partement d’Alger.’’ First as the Phcenician colony of Iol, and later, under Jubal II, as Ce- sarea, the capital of Mauretania. Cherchell came under the sway of the Roman Empire in the year 40 of the Christian era. The province of Mauretania extended from the Moulouia to the Setif of the present day. In the middle ages Cesarea lay dormant for three centuries; but before this, and again afterwards, its activities were such that the part it played in the history and development of the country was most mo- mentous. As late as the early years of the past century, the city and port was the refuge of a band of pirates which pillaged throughout all the west- ern waters of the Mediterranean. The ancient port of Cherchell was the scene of the comings and goings of a vast commerce 240 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets in Pheenician and Roman times; and the pres- ent state of the preservation of the moles and jetties of this old harbour of refuge stamps Cherchell as worthy of comparison with Car- thage. The Roman ruins at Cherchell are stupen- dous, though fragmentary, and not overnumer- ous. In the inefficiently installed ‘‘ Musée ’’ are many of the finest gems of antique sculp- tures and statuary yet found in Africa. There is a catalogue of these numerous discoveries, eompiled by M. Wierzejski, which can be had at the book-shops of Algiers, and which will prove invaluable to those interested in the subject in detail. The chief Roman monuments remaining in place above ground are the Western Baths and the Central Baths: the Cisterns, the Amphi- theatre, — where was martyred Sainte Marci- ane, — the Circus, and the extensive ramparts sweeping around to the south of the town from one part of the coast-line to another. Cherchell has a population of nine thousand souls to-day, of which perhaps a third are Eu- ropeans. In Roman times it must have had a vast population judging from the area within the ramparts. The ancient Grande Mosquée of the Arab oc- The Mitidja and the Sahel 241 cupation is now a military hospital. This has had added to it numerous beautifully propor- tioned columns, with elaborately carved capi- tals, taken from the ruins of the Central Baths. South from Cherchell, back from the coast towards the mountains of the ‘‘ Petit Atlas,”’ fifty kilometres or more by a not very direct road, and connected by a service of public dili- gences, is Miliana. One will not repent a ‘¢ stop-over ’’ at this unspoiled little African city. The country reminds one of what the French would eall a ‘‘ petite Suisse Africaine.’’ The valleys and plains have a remarkable fresh- ness of atmosphere that one does not associate with a semi-tropical sun. Miliana itself sits high on the flank of the Zacear-Gharbi, and is the lineal descendant of the Zucchabar of the Romans. Actually, it was founded in the tenth century. At the time of the French occupation of Algeria Abd-el-Kader here installed Ali-ben-Embarek (who after- wards became the Agha of the Mitidja under the French). But with the occupation of Mé- dea, in 1840, the stronghold fell and the Arab power was broken for ever in these parts. Miliana is a walled town to-day, as it was in the days of the Romans and Berbers. On the north is the Porte du Zaccar, and on the 242 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets south the Porte du Chélif. This snug little hill- town, with only a quarter part of its popula- tion European, not counting half as many more Israelites, has a character which places it at once in a class by itself. It has an attractive little commercial hotel, where one eats and drinks the best of the countryside and pays comparatively little for it. A wide terrace, or esplanade, runs around one side of the town overlooking the walls, and a wide-spread panorama stretches away on the east and west and north and south into infinity, with the imposing mass of the Ouarsenis, called “Veil du monde,’’ as the dominant landscape feature. The terrace is called locally the ‘‘ coin des blagueurs.’’ Why, no one pretends to an- swer, except that all the world foregathers here to stroll and gossip as they do on the ‘‘ cours ’’ of a Provencal town. Miliana’s mosque is a simple but elegant structure, graceful but not ornate, imposing but not majestic. It is dedicated to Sidi-Ahmed- ben-Youssef, a venerated marabout who lived all his life hereabouts. He had as bitter and satirical a tongue as Dean Swift when speak- ing of the men and manners of those about him. Turning eastward again from Mihana towards Algiers, one passes the entrance to The Mitidja and the Sahel 243 the Gorges de Chiffa, the road to Médea, and finally Blida, the centre of the little yellow, thin-skinned orange traffic. From Blida a classic excursion is to be made to the Gorges de Chiffa, where, at the Ruisseau des Singes, formerly lived a colony of hun- dreds, perhaps thousands of monkeys in their wild native state. Nowadays the only monkeys one sees are on the frieze in the salle-d-manger of a most excellently appointed little wayside hotel. Hamman-R’hira, on the road between Mili- ana and Blida, is an incipient watering-place, where one can get tea and American drinks, and play croquet. Its mineral springs—much like those of Contrexeville in France — have been famous 244 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets for centuries, and the old Moorish baths are still used by the Moors and Arabs round about. For the Europeans who, throughout the spring and winter season, throng to the great hotel, now managed by a limited company, there are other baths more luxuriously installed. ) Hamman-R’hira is an attractive enough place of itself, and would be more so were it not filled with rheumatics and anemics. ‘The frequenters of the Moorish baths are more in- teresting than the European clientele for the investigator of men and manners. PBobrint Ware x & MarceasesT Harn \Rhirapys fe SI a" MILIAN 720 HAR Le te j FX, Aine dullane / Ke A. ——— A /Ton tepiciio “\ \ SS oe Aidhenr-el fine Pk B. ic Stde'Sictz RGR ! i Madkane WU 35 a’ ( Aub “ue Rutsscean N des Stnges > ee : oe mt 3d Fre cte Mouzaia x 5 0. pyr Ka boulled la 0 co? Q 160% bs IE. , 45 Le Canrys-ades: Ehencs: - sou \ Mourafia-les -Sbiires q aay 26 9 arietse As 1 oa aoa ; MEDEA : ry U Or CHAPTER XV THE GREAT WHITE CITY — ALGIERS Tue first view of Algiers from the ship, as one enters the port, is a dream of fairyland, “* Alger la Blanche!’”’ ‘‘ El Djesair la molle! ”’ If it is in the morning, all is white and dazzling; if in the evening, a rosy violet haze is over all, with the background of the ‘‘ Petit Atlas ’’ and the Djurjura shutting off the littoral from the wide Sahara to the south. At twilight a thou- sand twinkling lights break out, from the Kasba on the height, from Mustapha, from the terrace boulevard which flanks the port and from the ships in the harbour. A stronger ray flashes from the headland lighthouse at Cap Matifou, and still others from war-ships in the great open gulf. Algiers is truly fairy-like from any point of view. The Algiers of to-day is a great and populous city. It is the Icosium of the Romans doubled, tripled, and quadrupled. Three towns in juxta- position stretch from Saint-Eugéne on the west to Mustapha on the east, while Algiers proper 245 246 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets has for its heart the ‘‘ Place du Gouverne- ment ’’ and the ‘‘ Grande Mosquée.’’ The Place du Gouvernement is a vast square, a sort of modern forum, flanked on one side by the Mosque of Djema-el-Djedid, the Grande Mosquée, and on the others by shops, cafés, and hotels. From it stretch the four great thoroughfares of the city, Bab-el-Oued, La Marine, La Kasba, and Bab-Azoum. All the animation and the tumult of the city centres here, and the passing throng of Arabs, soldiers, Jews, Mauresques, and the French and foreign elements, forms an ethnological exhibit as va- ried as it is unusual. Algiers has a special atmosphere all its own. It lacks those little graces which we identify as thoroughly French, in spite of the fact that the city itself has become so largely Frenchified ; and it lacks to a very great extent — from al- most every view-point — that Oriental flavour which one finds at Cairo and Tunis. But for all that, Algiers is the most wonderful exotic and conventional blend of things Arab and Eu- ropean on top of earth. The environs of Algiers are rugged and full of character, opening out here and there into charming distant vistas, and wide panoramas of land and sea and sky. All is large, immense, The Great White City — Algiers 247 and yet as finely focussed as a miniature. One must not, however, attempt to take in too great an angle at a single glance, else the effect will be blurred, or perhaps lost entirely. The impulsive ones, who like the romance of Touraine and the daintiness of valley of the Indre and the Cher, will find little to their liking around Algiers. All is of a ruggedness, if not a savageness, that the more highly developed civilization of the ‘‘ Midi’’ has quite wiped out. Here the ragged eucalyptus takes the place of the poplar, and the platane is more common than the aspen or the birch. The palm- trees are everywhere, but just here they are of the cultivated or transplanted variety and generally of the feather-duster species, decora- tive and pleasing to look upon, but givers neither of dates nor of shade. Algiers and its life, and that of its immediate environs, whether the imported gaieties of Mus- tapha or the native fétes of Bouzarea, and the periodical functions for ever taking place in the city itself, give about as lively an exposition of cosmopolitanism as one may observe any- where. The historical monuments of Algiers are not as many as might at first be supposed, for most of its memories of historic times deals with 248 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets places rather than things; and, indeed, this is true of the whole surrounding country, from Tizi-Ouzou in Kabylie to Cherchell and Tipaza in the Sahel, to the west. The chief of Algiers’ architectural charms — aside from that varied collection of crazy walls and crooked streets which make up the Arab town — are the Archbishop’s Palace, —a fine old Arab house of a former Dey of Algiers; the Pefion and the Amirauté, or what is left of it, on the mole below the Palais Consulaire; its three principal mosques; the cathedral, — the mosque of other days transformed; the Palais d’Eté of the Governor-General, in part dating from the seventeenth century, and the Kasba fortress, high up above the new and old town. These are all guide-books sights, and the only comments herewith are a few hazarded per- sonal opinions. High above, up through the streets of stairs, scarce the width of two people side by side, and still up by whitewashed walls, great iron- studded doors and grilled windows, sits the Kasba, the great fortress defence of Algiers since the days when Turkish rule gave it the most unenviable reputation in all the world. There is a continual passing and repassing of all Algiers’ population, apparently, from the The Great White City — Algiers 249 lower town to the height above, Europeans, Arabs, Moors and Jews. The scene is ever changing and kaleidoscopic. A white wraith toddles along before one, and, as you draw near, resolves into a swaddled Mauresque who, half afraid, giggles at you through the opening of her veil and suddenly disappears through some dim-lighted doorway, her place only to be taken by another form as shapeless and mysterious. This is the Arab town day or night; and but for the steep slope one might readily lose him- self in the maze of streets and alleys. As it is all one has to do is to keep moving, not mind- ing the gigglings and gibings of the natives. One enters the ville Arabe by any one of a hundred streets or alleys. At its outmost height you are at the Kasba; when you reach the bottom you are in the Kuropean town. To the right or left you reach a sort of encircling boulevard which in turn brings you to the same objectives. It is not so difficult as it looks, and one need fear nothing, night or day, until he reaches the Huropean town and civilization, where thievery and murderings are nightly oc- currences. Here in the old Arab town one is in another world; here are the maisons a terrasse, the mosques, the narrow ruelles with their over- 250 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets hung porches and only occasional glimpses of the starry sky overhead. Verily it is as if one had left the electric-lighted ‘‘ Place,’’ the cafés chantants, the tramway, and the shipping be- hind in another world, though in reality a hun- dred steps, practically, in any direction will bring them all within sight and sound and smell again. After all, the quaint streets of the hillside town are Algiers’ chief sights, after the mag- nificent panorama of the bay and that wonder- ful first view as seen from the ship as one en- ters the port. Algiers’ native quarter has been somewhat spoiled by the cutting through of new streets, and the demolishing and refurbishing of old buildings; but, nevertheless, there are little corners and stretches here and there where the daily life of the native men and women goes on to-day as it did when they lived under Turk- ish rule. Here are the shopkeepers of all ranks: a butcher dozing behind his moucha- rabia, looking like the portraits of Abd-el-Ka- der; a date-seller, the image of the Khedive of Egypt; a baker with a Jewish cast of fig- ure; and next door a café-maure with all the leisure population of the neighbourhood stretched out on the nattes and benches, smok- The Great White City — Algiers 251 ing and talking and drinking. It is not fairy- land, nor anything like it; it is not even Ori- ental; but it is strange to Anglo-Saxon, or even European, eyes that such things should be when we ourselves are wallowing in an over- abundance of labour-saving, comfort-giving luxuries which the Arab has never dreamed of. We chase our flies away with an electric fan, whilst he idly waves a chasse-mouches of an- tique pattern, and does the thing quite as ef- fectively, and with very little more effort. They are very grave, magnificently tranquil, these turbaned Turks and Jews and Arabs, sit- ting majestic and silent before some café door, clad in all the rainbow colours of civilization and savagery. Their peace of mind is some- thing we might all acquire with advantage, in- stead of strenuously ‘‘ going the pace ’’ and trying to keep up with, or a little ahead of, the next. In spite of its strangeness, Algiers is not at all Oriental. The Arabs of Algiers themselves lack almost totally the aspect of Orientalism. The Turk and Jew have made the North Afri- ean Arab what he is, and his Orientalism is simply the Orientalism of the Hast blended and browned with the subtropical rays of the Afri- ean sun. It is undeniably picturesque and ex- 252 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets otic, but it is not the pure Eastern or Byzantine variety which we at first think it. To realize this to the full, one has only to make the com- parison between Algiers and Cairo and Tunis. It is the cosmopolitan blend of the new and the old, of the savage with the civilized, that makes cosmopolitan Algiers what it is. This mixture of many foreign elements of men and manners is greatly to be remarked, and no- where more than in Algiers’ cafés, where French, English, Americans, and Arabs meet in equality over their café-cognac, though the Arab omits the cognac. The cosmopolitanism of Marseilles is lively and varied, that of Port Said ragged and picturesque, but that of Al- giers is brilliantly complicated. Algiers is the best kept, most highly im- proved, and, by far, the most progressive city on the shores of the great Mediterranean Lake, and this in spite of its contrast of the old and new civilizations. San Francisco could take a lesson from Algiers in many things civic, and the street-cleaners of London and Paris are notably behind their brothers of this African metropolis. The marchand de cacaoettes is the king of Al- giers’ Place du Gouvernement; or, if he isn’t, The Great White City — Algiers 253 the bootblack with his ‘* Cire, m’ssieu! ’’ holds the title. Anyway, the peanut-seller is the aris- tocrat. He sits in the sun with a white or green umbrella over his head, and is content if he sells fifty centimes worth of peanuts a day. His possible purchasers are many, but his cli- ents are few, and at a sou for a fair-sized bag full, he doesn’t gather a fortune very quickly. Still he is content, and that’s the main thing. The bootblack is more difficult to satisfy. He will want to give your shoes a “‘ glace de Paris,’’ even if another of his compatriots has just given them a first coating of the same thing. The bootblacks of Algiers are obstinate, importunate, and exasperating. From a document of 1621 one learns that Al- giers had a population of 100,000 in 1553, a half a century later 150,000, and in 1621 200,000. Then came the decadence; and, at the coming of the French in 1832, Algiers was but a city of 34,000, Moors, Turks, Jews, Negroes, and Arabs all counted. They were divided as follows: Mussulmans 17,858 Negroes 1,380 Jews 5,758 Floating population 9,888 254 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets By 1847 a European population had crowded in which brought the figures up to 103,610 and gave Algiers a rank of fifth among French cities. Algiers’ busy port is picturesque and lively in every aspect, with the hourly comings and goings of great steamships from all the length and breadth of the Mediterranean, and from the seven seas as well. Over all is the great bound- less blue of a subtropical, cloudless sky; be- neath the restless lapping of the waves of the still bluer Mediterranean; and everywhere the indescribable odour of bitume, of sea salt, and of oranges. The background is the dazzling walls of the arcaded terraces of the town, and the still higher turrets and towers of a modern and ancient civilization. Still farther away are the rolling, olive-clad hills and mountains of the Sahel. Sunrise or sunset on Algiers’ port are alike beautiful; one should miss neither. The best-remembered historical and roman- tic figures of Algiers are Pedro Navarro, who built the Pefon; the brothers Barberousse, Corsairs from the Dardanelles, whom the Al- gerians called in to help them fight their battles against Christianity; and Cervantes, the au- thor of ‘‘ Don Quixote,’’ who was imprisoned here, and who left an imperishable account of The Great White City — Algiers 255 the city of his captivity, ever useful to later historians. | Charles V and Louis XIV both had a go at Algiers, but it fell not to their attack; and it was only with later times, incident upon an insult offered the French ambassador by Hus- sein Dey, the Turkish ruler of the El-Djezair of the ancients, that Algiers first capitulated to outside attack. Oid Algiers was not impregnable, perhaps, but such weapons of warfare as were used against the Turks were inefficient against its thick walls, its outposts, and its fortified gates. The historic Penon underwent many a medi- eval siege, but was finally captured from its Spanish defender, De Vegas, and his little band of twenty-five survivors, who were summarily put to death. Khair Ed Din pulled down, in part, the fortifications and joined the remain- der by a jetty to the mainland, the same break- water which to-day shelters the port on the north. eet 7 es v2," im! , i ui “8 C-, mr | . / , uy \e on oe - z e - * lg . oe © Uap . aa a 4 ot Ke ) ae ‘ oe" Te € 4 = iy f 2) » ey 9 +] Ve 7 7 it _ 7 é > na is > @4 «4s =} 7 | 2 i) = nee ee PPE Algiers and Beyond 269 the leather and silver workers, and of the butcher, the baker and the seller of blankets and foodstuffs is, as yet, unspoiled and uncon- taminated with anything more worldly than oil- lamps. The conducted tourist has not yet reached Bou-Saada, and consequently the na- tive life of the place is all the more real. Here is an account of a café acquaintance made at Bou-Saada. Zorah-ben-Mohammed was a pretty girl, according to the standards of her people, with a laugh lke an hourt. She con- fessed to eighteen years, and it is probable that she owned no more. The rice powder and the maquillage were thick on her cheek, whilst the rest of her face was frankly ochre. For all that she was a pretty girl and came perilously near convincing us of it, though hers was a beauty far removed from our own preconceived stand- ards. Great black eyes and a massive coiffe of raven-black hair topped off her charms. Below she was clad in a corsage of gold-embroidered velvet and an ample silk pantalon that might indeed have been a skirt, so large and thick were its folds) Bijoux she had galore. They may have been of gold and silver and precious stones, or they may not; but they were pre- 270 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets cious to her and added not a little to her graces. Bracelets bound her wrists and her ankles, and her finger-tips were dyed red with henna. Zora or Zorah Fatma, or in Arab, Fetouma, are the girlish names which most please their bearer, and our friend Zorah was a queen in her class. Zorah served the coffee in the little Moorish café in Bou-Saada’s market-place, into which we had tumbled to escape a sudden sand- storm blown in from the desert. Her powers of conversation were not great; she did not know many French words and we still fewer Arab ones, so our respective vocabularies were soon exhausted. We admired her and made remarks upon her,—which was what she wanted, and, though the charge for the coffee was only two sous a cup, she was artful enough to worm a pourboire of fifty centimes apiece out of us for the privilege of being served by her. | As we left, Zorah, with her professional little laugh on her lips, eried out, ‘‘ redoua, re- doua!’’ (to-morrow, to-morrow!) ‘‘ Well — perhaps! ’’ we answered. ‘* Peut-étre que out! Peut-étre que non! ”’ A visit to the marabout at El Hamel, fifteen kilometres from Bou-Saada, is one of the things to do. We descended upon him in his hermit Algiers and Beyond 271 shrine, and found him seated on a great carpet of brilliant colouring and reclining on an enor- mous cushion of embroidered silk, — not the kind the Tunisian workers try to sell steam- ship-cruising tourists during their day on shore, but the real gold-embroidered, silky stuff, such as dressed the characters of the Arabian nights. Hung about the marabout’s neck was his chaplet of little ebony beads, and behind his head hung an embroidered silken square, its gold olive branches and fruit glittering with sun’s rays like an aureole. Grouped about the marabout in a squatting semicircle and listening to his holy words were a half-dozen or more faithful Mussulmans. One of them was very old, with a visage ridged like a melon rind, and a fringe of beard that once was probably black, but was now a scant gray collaret. His face was the colour of brown earth, but he was manifestly a pure blooded Arab; there was not even the telltale pearly- blue tint in the eyes which always marks the half-bred Berber-Arab type. Another, rolled snug in an old burnous, was by his side, his eyes quite closed and his head and body rocking as though he was asleep. He probably was. A third was younger, of perhaps three and thirty, but he was quite as devout as his elders, though 272 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets he was more wide-awake, and looked curiously and interestedly upon us as we stood in the doorway of the little white temple of a sanctu- ary awaiting the time when the marabout should be free of his religious duties. Our visit was appreciated. We had brought the holy man a few simple gifts of chocolate, matches, and a couple of candles, and donated twenty copper sous to his future support. Af- ter the adieux of convention were exchanged, we jogged our little donkeys back to the town by a short cut through the bed of the Oued Bou- Saada. CHAPTER XVII KABYLIE AND THE KABYLES Kasy ig is a wild, strange land known to few and peopled by many, though indeed the pop- ulation is mostly native. Colonization has not made great inroads into the mountains of Grande and Petite Kabylie. And though the tract is contiguous to Algiers itself, few stran- ger tourists know it as anything more than a name. Still less do they know its savage and undeveloped beauties. The Algerian government has pushed a great ‘‘ Route Nationale ’’ through the heart of the mountains, and Tizi-Ouzou and Fort National have grown up into more or less important cen- tres of Kuropean civilization; but in the main the aspect is as much Kabyle to-day as it was when this pure Berber race — the purest left in North Africa — first began to make its influ- ence felt among the many tribes of the Medi- terranean coast and the Sahara. The mountain villages of Kabylie are not mere nests of huddled shacks, nor groups of 273 274 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets tents, nor ‘‘ lean-tos,’’ nor mud huts. They are of well-built houses, with sloping or flat stone roofs, and look like the little hamlets of the Pyrenees or the Cevennes in France, where the rude winters have taught men to build after a certain fashion in order to live comfortably. The Kabyles early learned the same way of do- ing things; for, in spite of the fact that the brilliant African sun sometimes burns, even in midwinter, with a fervour unknown elsewhere, the mountain-tops are snow-covered for three or four months of the year; and the roads over which the daily antediluvian mail-coach and diligence pass — with occasionally an intrepid automobilist — are often impassable for a week. The railway does not penetrate this mountain fastness beyond Tizi-Ouzou, and though it skirts the sunny southern side of the woods, the snows of winter blocked it last year for forty-eight hours. And this in Africa! If the exterior of the Kabyle mountain villages do resemble those of other lands, their interiors have a style of furnishing and decoration all their own. Purely Kabyle, it is wonderfully decorative, simple, and effective. It is the art- ist’s ideal interior, as the illustration herewith shows. The decorative scheme is its all in all. Kabylie and the Kabyles es There is little furniture, almost no bibelots, if one omits goat-skin rugs, blankets, and the homely pottery and copper domestic utensils. From Fort National the route leads down to meet the trunk line at Beni-Mancour, and en route takes on even a wilder aspect than that by which one ascended from the seaboard plain around Algiers. The journey can be made readily in a day by hired carriage, or, better yet, in a few hours by automobile. From either side extend mountain valleys and ravines, each of them giving place to a road of sorts, practicable to the mountain mule, but to nothing else, save a human being on foot. If one would do some real exploring, let him spend ten days in Kabyle. He will think he is in the ‘‘ Forbidden Land ”’ of Tibet so far as intercourse with the outside world is concerned. Footprints of the naked feet of men and women, and of the cloven hoofs of animals, will be the only signs of life visible for hours at a time. Yet in spite of the fact that the land is so wild and dreary, it is the most thickly pop- ulated region of Northern Africa. The braying of donkeys, the voices of women, the cries of children, and the gutturals of the men give, if not a melody, at least a quaint and charming 276 In the Land of Mosques and Minarets sound as one draws up on some hilltop Kabyle village.