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University of California.
Class
A COMPANION VOLUME
IN THE SAME SERIES
MOROCCO
PAINTED BV A. S. FORREST
DESCRIBED BY S. L. BENSUSAN
CONTAINING 74 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTK ATIONS
IN COLOUR
PRICE 20s. NET
Post free, 20s. 6d.
A. J. Dawson in Tlie Speaker says :— " It
is a carefully finished piece of work, capably
written and sincerely thought out ; this, with
the numerous and beautiful illustrations, makes
the whole a very desirable book."
Published by
A. & C. BLACK, SoHO Square, LONDON, W.
ALGERIA AND TUNIS
AGENTS
America . The Macmillan Company
64 & 66 FiFiH Avenue, New York
Canada . The Macmillan Company of Canada, Ltd.
27 Richmond Street West, Toronto.
India . . Macmillan & Company, Ltd.
Macmillan Building, Bombay
309 Bow Bazaar Street, Calcutta
>£:&RSu
MOSQUE OF SIDI BEN ZIAD, TUNIS
The Auction Day
ALGERIA AND TUNIS
PAINTED ^ DESCRIBED
BY FRANCES E. NESBITT
PUBLISHED BY A. AND C.
BLACK • LONDON • MCMVI
y
?«
Contents
CHAPTER I
PAGE
The City of El Djezair ...... 3
CHAPTER n
The Country-Side . . . . . . . . 17
CHAPTER III
The Gates of the Desert . . . . . . 37
CHAPTER IV
The Oueen of the Desert ...... 57
CHAPTER V
Life on an Oasis . . . . . . . . 71
CHAPTER VI
TlMGAD .......... 93
V
O H! 1 *"* <? Q
Algeria and Tunis
CHAPTER VII
PAGE
CONSTANTINE . . . . . . . . . IO7
CHAPTER VIII
On the Way to Tunis . . . . . . .119
CHAPTER IX
Tunis 139
CHAPTER X
Life in Tunis . . . . . . . .159
CHAPTER XI
Carthage • . . . . . . . • ^79
CHAPTER XII
SoussE and El Djem . . . . . . -193
CHAPTER XIII
The Sacred City ........ 207
INDEX 227
vi
List of Illustrations
1 . Mosque of Sidi Ben Ziad, Tunis — the Auction Day Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
2. The Penon, Algiers ....... 4
3. An Old Street, Algiers ...... 6
4. The Carpet School, Algiers ..... 8
5. Mosque of Sidi Abder Rahman, Algiers ... 10
6. The Leopard Door, Algiers . . . . . 12
7. Algiers from the Jardin d'Essai . . . . . 16
8. View from Mustapha, Algiers . . . 18
9. On my Balcony, Algiers ...... 20
10. Bougainvillaea, Algiers . . . . . . 22
11. The Garden Court of an Old Moorish Villa, Algiers . 24
12. Friday at the Cemetery, Algiers .... 26
13. Koubba of Sidi Noumann, Bouzareah .... 28
14. Stone Pines, Algiers ....... 30
15. The Red Aloes . . . . . . . . 32
16. The Gates of the Desert . . . . . . 38
17. Spinning ......... 42
18. The Red Village, El Kantara 46
19. On the Edge of the Desert ..... 48
20. Carding Wool ........ 50
21. In the heart of an Oasis . . . . . 52
22. In the Market-Place, Biskra ..... 58
vii
Algeria and Tunis
23. Evening on the Sahara
24. Sunset
25. The Fruit Market, Biskra
26. The Story-Teller
27. A Village Street, Biskra
28. A River of the Sahara
29. A Biskra Woman
30. A Nomad Camp
31. A Caravan on the Sahara
32. The Begging Marabout
33. The Palm Village
34. A Mozabite Fantasia .
35. Street of the Dancing Girls, Biskra
36. The Arch of Trajan, Timgad
37. The Forum, Timgad .
38. Market Day, Timgad
39. Gorge of the Roumel, Constantine
40. A Game of Draughts .
41. The Silent Waterfall, Hammam Meskoutine
42. The Arab Wedding, Hammam Meskoutine
43. Temple of Celestis, Dougga
44. Tunis ....
45. Souk des EtofFes, Tunis
46. Souk el Attarin, Tunis
47. Souk el Trouk, Tunis
48. Souk el Belat, Tunis .
49. Tunis from the Belvedere .
50. A Street of Arches, Tunis ,
51. The Zaouia of the Rue Tourbet el Bey, Tunis
52. Souk el Hout, Tunis .
53. Rue Tourbet el Bey, Tunis
54. Rag Fair ....
viii
FACING PAGE
60
62
64
66
70
74
76
78
80
82
84
86
88
96
100
102
108
1 12
120
122
140
148
150
152
158
160
164
166
168
170
List of Illustrations
55. The Fritter Shop, Tunis
56. Unlading Wood ....
57. The Ancient Ports of Carthage .
58. The Old Punic Cisterns, Carthage
59. The Carthage Aqueduct
60. The Site of Carthage from Sidi Bou Said
61. Sousse ......
62. The Basket-Makers, Sousse
63. The Roman Amphitheatre, El Djem .
64. Evening, Kairouan ....
65. La Grande Rue, Kairouan .
66. Carpet-Making .....
67. Mosque of Sidi Okba, Kairouan .
68. Moorish Gateway, Kairouan
69. The Mosque of the Three Doors, Kairouan
70. A Desert Afterglow ....
FACING PAGE
•
172
• 17 +
180
182
184
188
194
196
200
206
210
212
214
218
220
224
Map lit end of Volume.
The Illustrations in this -volume hwve been engraved and printed in England
by The Hentschel Colourtype, Limited.
THE CITY OF EL DJEZAIR
ALGERIA AND TUNIS
CHAPTER I
THE CITY OF EL DJEZAIR
Algiers is such a city of contrasts, of dark memories
and present prosperity, of Christian slavery and
Christian rule, brilliant sun and tropical rain, of wide
modern streets and networks of narrow alleys, with
the slow dignity of movement of the old race and the
rapid vivacity of their new rulers, that it makes all the
difference in the world in what spirit and at what
moment you arrive. At times the city is all sunshine,
" a diamond in an emerald frame," as the Arabs call
it ; at others only a dim outline is visible blotted out
by the tropical rain.
When first we saw Algiers, after a dreamy, peaceful
voyage from Gibraltar, the city was in its most brilliant
mood. Having started in glorious spring weather,
we watched the Sierra Nevada actually fulfilling all
childish dreams of snow mountains, seemingly sus-
pended in the soft cloudy distance with a suggestion
of a double horizon, which some people called a
mirage. Blue sky, bluer sea, still and calm, — nothing
3
Algeria and Tunis
discordant but the notes of the bugle-calls to meals.
By nightfall the mountains had faded away, and all we
saw was a long line of blue African coast, mysterious
and dim. But in the morning there was excitement
and bustle enough, the bugles beginning at dawn — a
lovely dawn and sunrise. Then the joy of coming into
harbour and seeing the white terraces of the town
gleaming in the sunshine. General impression all
charm, brightness, and colour. The next time we felt
the full force of contrast. Grey drizzling weather
at Marseilles, a rolling sea, cold winds and general
depression as the keynote of the voyage, to be followed
by a late landing on a winter evening, the bright green
of the hills dim with rain, the houses looking as grey
and chill as ourselves standing forlornly under umbrellas
on dripping decks, and almost wet through in the short
run from the steamer to a carriage ; for a downpour
in Algiers is a downpour, just as sunshine is really
sunshine, and not the faint flickering of light and shade
we sometimes mistake for it at home. So that we
could fully sympathise with our fellow-travellers' dis-
tress, whilst remembering the loveliness we knew might
return at any moment. In any case landing is rather
a disappointment, because the first impression is so
entirely French, with scarcely a touch of the East. The
harbour, quay, and houses behind are all modern, and
might belong to any city of southern France ; the only
difi^erence at first is the sight of the boys, with their
smiling faces and queer clothes, who fight for the
privilege of carrying the luggage — such nondescript
4
THE PENON, ALGIERS
•-tl
-ft...
4
ni
The City of El Djezair
es, half European, half Eastern. Old coats, old
5, the coats generally too small, the boots too large,
I with a variety of Eastern garments and nearly
fs with a scarlet Manchester handkerchief wound
d their heads,
driving through the town, the French touch
inates everywhere — very wide streets, high houses,
ric trams, motor cars, shops all entirely European ;
then, as Mustapha is reached, the white houses, the
ens, even the view over the Bay to the mountains
nd, suggest Italy, the Bay of Naples, not the home
hose dreaded pirates who so recently held their
L of terror here. In fact, those who like to do so
It imagine they had never left the Riviera. But
those who love exploring strange scenes, there is
;at deal more than this : for behind those tiresome
;rn houses the Arab quarter lies hidden, little
id and yet fast disappearing. The winding Rue
lovigo cuts through it again and again on its way
the harbour to the Casbah, and yet it is still quite
to get lost in the mazes of the narrow streets. In
times, when the Dey still ruled and the walls ran
gular fashion from the broad base of the harbour
le great fortress, or Casbah, at the top of the hill,
:ity must have been charming to look at, however
Die to live in. Now it is possible to go safely into
the darkest and remotest corners — and they are
indeed. A first visit leaves one breathless but
hted. Breathless, because all the streets are stair-
• on a more or less imposing scale ; the longest is
5
Algreria and Tunis
said to have at least 500 steps ; delighted, because at
every turn there is sure to be something unusual to a
stranger's eye. The newer stairs are wide and straight
and very uninteresting. But only turn into any old
street and follow its windings, in and out between
white walls, under arches through gloomy passages,
here a tew stairs, there a gentle incline always up, and
always the cool deep shade leading to the bright blue
of the sky above. Being so narrow and so steep, there
are of course no camels and no carts. Donkeys do all
the work, and trot up and down with the strangest
loads, though porters carry furniture and most of the
biggest things. Up and down these streets comes an
endless variety of figures — town and country Arabs,
Spahis in their gay uniforms, French soldiers, Italian
workmen, children in vivid colours, Jewesses with
heads and chins swathed in dark wrappings, and in-
teresting beyond all these the Arab women flitting like
ghosts from one shadowy corner to another, the folds
of their haicks concealing all the glories of their indoor
dress, so that in the street the only sign of riches lies
in the daintiness of the French shoes, and the fact that
the haick is pure silk, and the little veil over the face of
a finer material, as the enormous Turkish trousers are
all alike and of cotton. Still, it is hardly a satisfactory
crowd from a picturesque standpoint, as everything
seems so mixed up, and so many of the people do not
even appear to know themselves what their nationality
is, or their dress should be. Bazaars there are none,
only the usual Eastern-looking little shops, and the
6
AN OLD STREET, ALGIERS
*
JEMI
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"*»«£!
11
•-;-:/ A u^in
The City of El Djezair
Moorish cafes crowded with men drinking their tiny
cups of coffee and smoking cigarettes.
The architectural peculiarity of Algiers is the curious
arrangement of poles, all supposed to be of cedar wood,
supporting the upper stories of the houses, which are
built to project over and shade the lower, and nearly
meeting overhead. Occasionally a fine gateway, rarely
a decorative window, breaks the white surface of the
walls, which are whitewashed and rewhitewashed con-
tinually. Generally the outer windows are mere holes,
and the doors are hidden in the darkest corners. To
the uninitiated nothing suggests riches or poverty ; the
walls are like masks. But once inside and through
the dark entrance corridor, some of the houses are most
beautiful. They are much alike, with their cloistered
courts, with delicate, twisted columns and fine capitals.
The reception-rooms have wide openings into the court,
so that the cool fountain, and the flowers and trees, if
there are any, may be enjoyed. The upper rooms
open in a similar fashion upon a wooden balcony,
generally beautiful with carving. The court and all
the rooms are decorated with tiles of old designs, very
rich and soft in colour, and many of the rooms have
stucco work in the style of the Alhambra, only rougher
and coarser in handling. Such houses or palaces or
fragments of them are numerous. The Archbishop's
Palace, the Governor's Palace, the old library, and the
curiosity shops are the best known.
Even some of the schools are in fine old houses. ' The
embroidery school was the prettiest, and was a charm-
7
Algeria and Tunis
ing sight with the court full of tiny children sitting
on the matting and bending over their low embroidery
frames — beautiful embroideries hanging over the balcony;
and if one chose to climb up to the roof, a fine view of
old Algiers, its roofs and terraces. Now the school
has moved to larger quarters — another old house, pretty
also, but not so interesting. The carpet school is most
picturesque : there is a big doorway and the usual dark
passage, then the door opens into the court, which is
quite a small one with very strong light and shade.
Between the pillars all round stand the big looms, and
on low benches in front sit the little girls at work.
The floor of the court is marble, the pillars are very
curiously cut in varying designs, and are all coloured a
rich yellowish orange. The balcony of the upper story
has some good carved work, but very little of it is
visible owing to the carpets of every tone and tint which
hang over it. There are carpets on the floor, carpets
in rolls, carpets and children everywhere ; for upstairs
also are more looms, and everywhere little workers,
mostly girls, with here and there a very small boy —
odd little things, with their long full Turkish trousers,
white or in bright colours, their loose jackets, also
mostly white, and their little heads veiled in white or
else bound round with the gayest of handkerchiefs.
The efi^ect is often spoilt by common European blouses
and quite hideous check shawls. Carpet-making looks
easy enough, and the children seem to enjoy threading
the bright wool through the web and tying the knots ;
for a little while that is, then like a little flight of butter-
8
THE CARPET SCHOOL, ALGIERS
r
'(fi
liesH
i
The City of El Djezair
flies they all come in a whirl to see what the stranger
is doing in the dark inner room. This was alarming
at first, as many are the stories of sketches destroyed
and artists tormented by the irate victims of their
brushes, and these innocent-looking little people, with
their sweet smiles and pretty ways, were said to be most
troublesome. But either they did not understand or
they liked to be painted, for the smiles never died away
till the mistress ordered them back to work, though for
a few minutes one little maid propped up her pattern so
as to hide her face. However, she soon forgot and
things went on as before.
This was not always the case, for in the garden of
one of the mosques the small boys climbed a tree and
threw stones at the drawings, because, as they excitedly
explained, " The Mosque belongs to us, and no stranger
has any business even to look at it." This is rather a
hard saying, as the tomb-mosque in question — that of the
Saint called Sidi Mohammed Abder Rahman-el-Telebi
— is decidedly attractive to the poor despised foreigner.
To reach it there is a good climb up many steps
through the old town to a bare and dusty spot on one
of the new roads — a most unpromising road to look at
if it were not for a glimpse of blue over the roofs
below. Until last year there was only a plain white
wall and then a gateway, and outside the gateway,
squatting in the dust, a sad company all sick or infirm,
and all beggars striving and struggling for compassion
and un petit sou. Now the gateway is dwarfed and
hidden by the domes of the new schools of the mosque,
9 2
Algeria and Tunis
white with an absolutely blinding whiteness, making the
importunity of the beggars seem less annoying than this
aggressive newness. From the gateway a narrow stair-
case descends towards the sea, and at the first white
domed tomb there is a turn, a door is pushed open, and
a strange little burying-place is seen, with many sacred
tombs, the most important of which is decorated with
tiles and a projecting roof. Many of the smaller tombs
are covered completely with tiles, mostly green and
blue. There are also bands of old faience round the
minaret, which is a very graceful one, having three tiers
of slender colonnades running round it. A little grass,
a few trees, a great cypress, a budding fig-tree, and the
Arab women moving softly, for this is one of their
favourite places of prayer, complete the picture. The
mosque itself is small, the tomb seen dimly in the dark-
ness, which gives a mystery and charm to the abundance
of queer things hanging as votive offerings, and to the
rich colours of the tiles and the carpets. It is not an
important mosque, but it is a place full of character
and attraction, partly from its situation and partly from
the irregularity and strangeness of the buildings. The
other mosques have none of this undefined charm, being
simply large, bare, whitewashed buildings, with, in the
case of the great mosque, some fine old columns and a
very pretty fountain in the court with a tree shadowing
it, and bright tiles as decoration. There is also a tiny
mosque in the old town, which is always full of women
praying for babies. It is the tomb of another saint, and
so small that the best way to see it is to stoop and look
10
MOSQUE OF SIDI ABDER RAHMAN, ALGIERS
The City of EI Djezair
in through a window and watch the women, who are
not so absorbed in prayer as to prevent their smiling
and returning the gaze with interest.
For the rest, there is a sad feehng that most of the
Oriental life is dying slowly out, that the quaintness is
disappearing, and that the tendency is greater here than
elsewhere to cover over and hide the old life and
manners with a sort of cloak of modern civilisation. It
is even said that all the better-class Arabs have already
emigrated to Tunis, Egypt, or Constantinople. The
walls have gone, the gates also. Nothing now is left
but the great fortress itself upon the highest point of
the city, now used for barracks, a few fragments of the
walls, and most beautiful of all, the old harbour. It
is almost impossible to believe that such a small harbour
ever sheltered so strong a pirate fleet that it could
ravage the coasts of Corsica, Sardinia, Sicily, the ports of
Italy and Spain, and even penetrate as far as England.
Although Mr. Eaton, an American Consul who was
sent with arrears of tribute (four vessels) due from the
United States in 1798, did say, " Can any man believe
that this elevated brute has seven kings of Europe, two
Republics, and a Continent tributary to him, when his
whole naval force is not equal to two line of battle-
ships ? " Yet these Barbary pirates literally spread
terror around from their earliest beginnings in 1390
down to the time when Lord Exmouth brought the
Dey to reason by bombarding Algiers in 1 8 1 6 and free-
ing the slaves. But that was only a temporary im-
provement, and the bad state of affairs only came to an
II
Algeria and Tunis
end with the French occupation in 1830. The whole
history of the Barbary State is very sad and humiliat-
ing reading, with its accounts of the bargaining of the
various Powers for the release of the Christian slaves,
of whom there were often as many as twenty thousand
to thirty thousand in Algiers itself. Now the harbour
is full of innocent-looking coasting craft with lateen
sails, many pleasure-boats and yachts, and a few torpedo
boats. The serious business of shipping goes on in the
outer harbour, which is full of steamers and merchant-
men, whose dark hulls and smoking funnels form another
striking but not attractive contrast.
The beautiful Moorish tower called the Penon, and
now used as a lighthouse, was built in 1 544 on the site
of the old Spanish fort, and rises from the midst of a
group of old buildings, with here and there a fine bit
of Moorish work amongst them, though, as they are
used by the Admiralty, there is much that is modern
and business-like as well. In the wall is a characteristic
fountain ; a fiat surface decorated with inscriptions in
Arabic and carvings in marble in very slight relief, with
a simple spout for the water. Farther on, rather hidden
up in a corner under an arch, is the famous Tiger or
Leopard gateway — a very curious bit of work, the chief
peculiarity of which is that these two odd heraldic
animals guarding a shield are supposed to be of Arab
workmanship. Now, as it is strictly forbidden by their
religion to make images of living moving things, a
legend has been invented to the effect that the decora-
tion was done by a Persian slave, and that his masters
12
THE LEOPARD DOOR, ALGIERS
\xJO
^^^
The City of El Djezair
found it so surpassingly beautiful that they had not
the heart to destroy it. However, it really looks much
more like Spanish work done during their occupation
of the place, and though quaint, decorative, and rather
unusual, is not really beautiful at all. These and many
more are the old-world nooks and corners in the city
which the modern builder has not yet overthrown, and
where it is quite easy for a few moments to dream one-
self back into the old life, though the dreams generally
end in a sudden shock — the noise of an electric tram,
the hooting of a motor, a cyclist's bell, or the appear-
ance of some thoroughly Western figure who could
never have had any sympathy with the Arabian Nights.
13
THE COUNTRY-SIDE
'5
ALGIERS FROM THE JARDIN D ESSAI
t
A^^^
CHAPTER II
THE COUNTRY-SIDE
Whatever people may think of Algiers itself, — whether
they are most attracted by its old-world side, or its up-
to-date would-be Paris quarter, with the wide, hand-
some boulevards and quays, the arcaded streets, the
crowded squares, or even by the endless pleasure of
treasure-hunting in the many curiosity shops, and the
yet more endless bargaining that this entails, — still it
is generally with a sigh of relief that they turn from the
noise and clatter of the stone-paved streets, and wind
their way towards the heights of Mustapha Superieur
and El Biar, where most of the foreign visitors and
residents live.
At first the way is weary, up-hill as usual, and along
a prosaic street, almost the only interest being a few
fragments of the city wall near the English church,
which till only a few years ago stood at the meeting-
place of town and country, and is now quite swallowed
up by the ever-growing town.
But though the ascent may be steep, the way long,
and the streets not very interesting, these little matters
17 3
Algeria and Tunis
are soon forgotten as the road passes quite suddenly at
last into a region of shady trees and gardens, and
winds on and up past hotels and villas till at last the
heights are gained, and lovely, ever-varying views open
on every side. It is a joy to live in one of these white
houses half-hidden by a mist of green, to stand on the
sunny terrace in the early part of the day and look
out over the sea — a joy which is new every morning
and which increases day by day.
In the distance, above the exquisite curve of the
bay, is a long line of mountains, imposing enough,
and fine in form, sometimes dark and gloomy with
storm cloud, at other times so faintly blue that their
outlines barely show against the pale lightness of the
sky. These nearer mountains are things of every day,
and their changing moods are always visible, but above
and beyond these come and go, for a few fleeting
moments, like a vision, the great snow mountains of
Kabylia. Mysterious, delicate, elusive, hardly to be
distinguished from cloud masses, and yet grand and
majestic in outline as any in Switzerland — a strange,
unwonted sight to those who only know North Africa
as it appears in Egypt. For though we all know
better, snow mountains on this scale will suggest a
northern landscape with pines and fir trees, and not the
sort of vegetation this garden land supplies as a fore-
ground. As far as one can see, a rich plain and softly
wooded heights, olives and almonds, palms and pepper
trees, sycamores, stone pines in endless variety, and
closer still are tropical flowers, strange to see with a
i8
VIEW FROM MUSTAPHA, ALGIERS
The Country-Side
snow background. It seems wrong, somehow, and the
fact of its being January adds to the oddness of the
feeling.
But the view cannot be said to be all charm and
dreamy beauty, for unfortunately, or fortunately, there
is a great deal more. Lower Mustapha also lies spread
like a map before you — a prosperous town, with
factories, government and otherwise, smoking chimneys,
and barracks. This is why early morning is the best
moment, for then the veil of smoke and mist hides
the ugliness, and prevents the counting of those odious
chimneys, and leaves Upper Mustapha alone to act as
foreground, where it is still country, in its own way,
the hills covered with trees and gardens, and the endless
houses simply showing as sparkles of light. Still, it is
one of those places that makes the new-comer long
to have seen and known a few years ago, before this
sudden great prosperity ; for in those days when the
factories did not exist, the villas were all beautiful,
and few and far between, and it was possible to walk
through fields, and over the hillside, gathering wild
flowers all the way, to the very gates of the city. And
all this is a question of a few years, so rapid has been
the success of the colony when once it really started ;
before that, the old descriptions of the place held true
and still do so, if only a little judicious shutting of the
eyes is used occasionally, such as the glowing picture,
drawn by one of the English officers of the squadron
that came to Algiers in 1674, of the beautiful country,
houses white as chalk on either side of the town, with
19
Algeria and Tunis
gardens and vineyards abounding in all kinds of fruit
and vegetables. Oranges and lemons had only lately
been planted, but they produced so abundantly, that
" he bought sixty for a royal " ; although it was
Christmas they had apples, cauliflowers, roses, carna-
tions, and " most sorts of fFruights, flowers and
salating."
It would now take an immense catalogue, as large
as any of the bulky volumes issued by our English
seedsmen, to sum up all the trees, flowers, and fruits
that can be found not only in the beautiful gardens, or
in the great Jardin d'Essai, but also growing wild on
the whole country-side. In January the trees and
hedges along the roads and by-ways are festooned by
masses of white clematis growing like our traveller's
joy, but with flowers whose petals are at least an inch
long. A little later there are irises everywhere : a
dwarf kind with large lilac-coloured flowers, and also,
but rarely, a white variety has been found. Then
comes one of the chief pleasures of spring — drives far
out into the country, where the rolling hills, the
coombes, and the rich, red soil bring memories of
Devonshire (memories a little disturbed by the vine-
yards that clothe the hills, and the distant snow-clad
mountains). The object of these drives is to gather
the wild narcissus, which is found growing in marshy
hollows on the wildest parts of the hillside beyond
Dely Ibrahim. They grow in such quantities, that
large bunches can be made in a few minutes at the
expense of a little agility and some rather muddy boots.
20
ON MY BALCONY, ALGIERS
The Country-Side
Later on, the asphodel covers every waste space with
flowery spikes and ribbon leaves.
The roads, as is the way of French roads, are wide
and good, with gradients suited to military needs ; but
the lanes of Mustapha and El Biar are a feature of the
place — narrow, sometimes very steep, often more like
the bed of a torrent than a path, with stone walls full
of plants and ferns, overarched by trees, with aloes and
prickly pear crowning the banks ; shady and cool in
the heat, damp like a tunnel in the wet, lonely and
not always very safe — a point which perhaps adds some-
thing to their fascination.
The real delight of the whole place lies for most
people in the possession of a villa, Moorish or other-
wise, and a garden — and the garden is the thing. This is
why there are many who cannot feel the indescribable
charm which makes Egypt what it is. They talk of the
monotony of sand and hill, palm and river, and miss
those months of winter passed amidst the flowers and
trees, and can hardly realise that the still water, and
the sunsets which seem to open the very gates of heaven,
can ever compensate even slightly for their loss.
Naturally they have sunsets too ; only to enjoy them
properly you must dwell on the heights of El Biar and
arrange to have a western outlook across the plain. Then
and then only can you sometimes feel that the glories,
and now and then the calm of the East reach even here.
Flowers are better is their cry, and perhaps this is true ;
at any rate it is good to live all through what should
be winter with the white walls of your house aglow
21
Algeria and Tunis
with colour, draped with purple Bougainvillaea, or, as in
one well-known, well-loved garden, with a fiery cross
of the more uncommon terra cotta variety upon that
same fine whiteness, with the blue sea far beyond, and
peeps of mountains, plain, and harbour as a background,
whilst all around comes the scent of violets, sweet peas
and roses, not to speak of calycanthus and other fragrant
shrubs. Here there are irises and narcissus, and all the
old-world English flowers, mingling in friendly fashion
with strange companions : cactus and aloes of every
variety, arum lilies, the white hanging bells of the
datura, the birdlike brightness of the strelitzia, the
gorgeous scarlet of the Indian shoe-flower, all flourishing
happily together, The very fountains bring thoughts
of Egypt and Greece — full as they are of waving globes
of feathery papyrus. There are bamboos from Japan ;
eucalyptus or blue gum from Australia ; oranges, lemons,
and bananas of the South ; apples and pears from the
North ; and stately groups of stone pines, a purely
Italian feature. Strange fruits are also to be found in
this dream garden ; the strangest of all, one that rejoices
in the name of Monstera deliciosa. It has large thick
leaves, slit somewhat like a banana, flowers resembling
the wild arums of our English lanes magnified exceed-
ingly, the fruit a cross between a pine-apple and a cone
in appearance, and having a taste of the former mixed
with something quite its own.
Other gardens give lovely " bits " : in one a long
border of arum lilies, growing as freely as Madonna
lilies in a cottage garden, backed by flames of mont-
22
BOUGAINVILLEA, ALGIERS
The Country-Side
bretia, and small queer aloes with paler flame-coloured
flowers edging the path before them. The great scarlet
aloe is the centre of many pictures, either solitary on a
terrace, with trees and the bay, or in an old garden
amongst cypresses, its red-hot pokers contrasting
brilliandy with the rich green, or, better still, perhaps
in masses on a long border under an open avenue of
olives on a hillside, seen in the glow of evening, standing
gemlike in the still blueness of sea and sky. Roses
may be seen everywhere, festooning walls and forming
hedges. The eye will rest with pleasure on some
Moorish doorway surrounded by goodly bushes of
pomegranate, their bright orange -red blossoms har-
monising with the tones of the old building and with
the violets ; for here even they come into the picture, as
Algerian violets are not occupied modestly hiding under
their leaves, for they raise their heads proudly on long
stalks, carpeting the ground with their fine purple, and
the scent rises to the terrace far above them.
The old Moorish villas are all built on much the
same plan as the houses in the town, collections of
white cubes from without, and within a two storied
arcaded court, on to which the various rooms open. In
some there is also a women's court, and occasionally a
garden court as well. One of the most beautiful of
these houses contains, under a glass let into one of the
walls, a most remarkable record, said to be the only
contemporary one of Christian slavery known to exist
in Algiers. It was discovered during some repairs
done by its first English owner, when a flake of plaster
23
Algeria and Tunis
fell off and disclosed this writing roughly scratched as
if by a nail on a wet surface : — ■
John Robson
(wi)th my hand this 3rd day
Jany. in the year
1692.
This John Robson is known to have been released
and restored to his family and friends by William
Bowlett, who paid _^ 1 1 : 2s. for his freedom — not a
very high value for an Englishman even in those days.
This same villa has a beautiful garden-court, which as
you walk into it makes you feel as if you stepped back-
wards through the ages into a world of old romance,
solemn and stately ; and as you look from the cool
shadow to the cloister arches and white twisted
columns covered with bright creepers, you hardly
realise that old tiles upon the wall, old red pavement
at your feet, trees laden with oranges, a fountain
covered with maiden-hair, and surrounded by a square
pool of water, like a mirror reflecting the papyrus
which grows in it, are the details that make up the
picture, so entirely do the stillness and the peace
throw their enchantment over all. Then with the
opening of the great doors comes a vision of sunlit
paths and brightest green, formal almost to stiffness
in its lines — the old Harem garden. Many of the
villas have beauties such as these, though few so perfect
24
THE GARDEN COURT OF AN OLD
MOORISH VILLA, ALGIERS
The Country-Side
as a whole ; often only a doorway or a window remains
that still tells its tale of olden days.
The pride of Lower Mustapha is the Jardin d'Essai,
not properly a garden at all, not even a park, though
it is big enough for that. It is a home for numbers of
rare trees and shrubs of a more or less tropical char-
acter, a sort of school where they are trained to stand
another climate, and from which some go forth and
travel again to northern lands ; for it is said that the
culture of palm trees alone brings in at least ^^4000 a
year, and that most of those sold in London and Paris
come from this garden. India-rubber trees, bananas,
and oranges are on the useful market-garden side, and
to these might also be added its ostrich farm ; but from
the scientific or artistic point of view usefulness is a
smaller thing than rarity and beauty. There are also
trees of the most rare kinds with imposing names to
rejoice the learned ; and for the satisfaction of beauty
lovers, long avenues of palms of every type, cocoa
trees, quaint alleys of yuccas, and lightest and perhaps
most graceful of all, the bamboo. Then for a change,
just by crossing a road, there is a real oasis of ordinary
palms, making a delicious shade for the little tables of
two bright cafes ; and from this spot, at the water's
very edge, is a peep of old Algiers, the " white city,"
the harbour and the boats glowing in the soft afternoon
light, and reflected in the calm opalescent water.
Quite near to the Jardin d'Essai is another garden,
the Arab cemetery, very wild, and badly kept, its
interest lying not in its own beauty, but in the fact
25 4
Algeria and Tunis
that Friday after Friday all the year round it is the
place of pilgrimage of the Arab women. It contains
the tomb of a celebrated saint called Sidi Mohammed
Abder Rahman Bou Kobrin, who came at the end of the
eighteenth century from the Djurdjura mountains, and
founded a powerful sect or order, second only to that of
Sidi Okba. His body was brought to Algiers and
buried in the Koubba, but his followers in the wilds of
Kabylia became furious until they discovered that all
the time the body was still in its first resting-place as
well. Now all is quiet and calm once more, as a
wonder has been worked, so that henceforth he is Bou
Kobrin, the man of two tombs. At noon the gates
are closed to all men, and until six in the evening it
is crowded with women and children. Here they
come, in carriages and on foot, in big parties in special
omnibuses, veiled, mysterious forms ; but once inside
they form laughing groups on the various family tomb-
stones, take off the veils that cover their faces, showing
glimpses of gay colours under the shrouding white.
Here they picnic and chat and pay each other visits,
and return with great interest the gaze of the European
women who come to see them. The Arab ladies of
Algiers live such secluded lives that this is often their
only opportunity of going out, and it is quite their only
chance of being free and unveiled out of their own
homes, so that naturally they make the most of their
time, and think as few sad thoughts as may be ; so that
although we have seen tears and passionate kissing of
the tombs, and offerings of evergreens, the symbol ot
26
FRIDAY AT THE CEMETERY, ALGIERS
3!kA •.#»*■'* MfL
The Country-Side
immortality, smiles and sweet glances are much more
common. Some of them are really beautiful with their
dark eyes and heavily painted eyebrows, some most
surprisingly fair, and, though it is hardly polite to
mention it of such carefully veiled dames, some are as
surprisingly ugly. Often they talk a little French, and
though most of them are horrified and turn their backs
when they see a camera, sketching does not seem to be
half such a terror, and they smile, and point, and say
something that sounds like mlyeh^ and means pretty.
From cemeteries to tombs and shrines is a natural
step, and here, as in Italy, there are endless places of
pilgrimage. Mohammedan saints simply abound. In
this part of the world they go by the name of Mara-
bout, and the tomb-mosques built over their graves are
called Marabouts also — a most confusing arrangement,
so that it is quite a relief when Koubba is used as a
substitute in discussing tombs. These tombs are
mostly built on a very simple plan — a small cube sur-
mounted by a dome, the whole as white as frequent
whitewash can make it.
It is a delightful drive to the shrine of Sidi Noumann,
at Bouzareah, through some of the prettiest scenery in
the whole neighbourhood. Passing through Mustapha
Superieur and reaching the Colonne Voirol on the top
of the hill, and then keeping at a high level along a
country road, almost English with its high hedges,
though most un-English in the glimpses that come
every now and then of Moorish villas, stone pines and
cypresses, with the deep blue sea on the one side, and on
27
Algeria and Tunis
the other the rich colour of the plain. After passing
the busy little town of El Biar it is all real hill country,
up and down, and round through vineyards and corn-
fields, smiling and prosperous, which bear witness to
the untiring industry of the Colons or Colonists. Year
by year the moorland is disappearing, larger and larger
tracts come under cultivation, till soon there will be
nothing but vines and corn as far as the eye can see,
the vines especially being an enormous success. Farm-
houses of European character nestle in hollows, or stand
well sheltered by pines or eucalyptus, and these build-
ings contrast oddly with the Moorish houses, which
resemble forts. Sometimes both styles of architecture
are as mixed as the races who toil in these same fields
and vineyards. French, Italians, Spaniards, men from
the Balearic Isles, Moors and Kabyles, work together,
talking strange-sounding tongues, a sort of patois at
best, distinguished from each other by little touches in
their dress, mainly in their headgear, the size of their
hats, or its material, every sort of turban and hand-
kerchief, and, ruling over them all, a pith helmet in hot
weather. At last, after many turns and twists round
wooded, waterless coombes, the carriage reaches the
village of Bouzareah, and turning up a shady lane stops
at a small enclosure. Arab boys promptly appear and
insist on acting as guides, telling in very broken French
that here the great Saint was buried, and making
every one peep in to see the tomb itself in the dark
interior of the Koubba. Another Marabout lives near
by, and there is a minaret and small mosque, another
28
KOUBBA OF SIDI NOUMANN, BOUZAREAH
The Country-Side
tomb or so, and a well-house which almost looks like
one. Groups of minuscule palms, whose heads of
fan-shaped leaves seem too small for the size of their
trunks, throw flickering shadows over the white walls,
as the wind blows them to and fro. Outside the
sacred place lies wild moorland, broken by simple
stones, marking other graves scattered far and wide,
pale purple iris growing half- hidden amongst them.
Splendid aloes fringe the sides of a little lane which
separates the tomb of the saint from the wind-swept
lonely hill where his followers are buried — aloes whose
soft greyish -blue leaves form delicate contrast in
colour with the green of cactus and palm and the red
of the crumbling banks. In the evening the view is
beautiful from any part of this ridge, some 1300 feet
above the sea, though too panoramic perhaps for a
picture. Miles and miles of plain, shimmering in the
heat, tone after tone of rich colour fading gradually
into the blues and purples of the long rano-e of
mountains which enclose it all, and stretch in a fine
curve far out into the sea, Djebel Chenoua stands out
dark and fine against the brilliance of the setting sun,
a scene beautiful as the Bay of Algiers itself On a
clear day may be seen many places noted in ancient
times, such as the " tomb of the Christian," supposed
to have been the great sepulchre of the Mauritanian
kings, built about 26 B.C., a great circular building
standing on a hill, with a sort of pyramid on the top of
it, and with long passages and vaulted chambers within ;
but it must have been ransacked in bygone times, for
29
Algeria and Tunis
when opened by modern explorers in 1866, nothing
remained but bare walls. You may see also Tipaza,
founded by the Emperor Claudian, and Cherchell,
originally a Phoenician colony, but later on known to
the Romans as Caesarea, and to the Christians as the
place of martyrdom of St. Marcian and St. Arcadius.
Nearer on the sea-shore the French landed, and the
great battle which gave freedom to the seas and Algeria
to France was fought and won at Staoueli on the
14th June 1830, under the command of General de
Bourmont. Staoueli is now best known for its great
Trappist Monastery, another favourite place for picnics,
though it is a moot point whether it is better to do
a formal jnaigre lunch in the solemn room of the
monastery, or to escape from its shadow and feed on
forbidden things under the trees. The Trappist colony
is large and prosperous. The French Government gave
them a large grant of land, and they settled down soon
after the war, the foundation stone of the Abbey being
laid on shells found on the battlefield. The monks are
celebrated for the wines which they make and export
in great quantities.
These and many more are the sites pointed out with
eager fingers by the small Arabs, either from the little
burying-ground, or, still better, from the Observatory on
a higher point just beyond the stone gourbis of an Arab
village. One of the roads runs along a ridge between
two bays with water almost all round, and there are
many ways back to Algiers, winding down amongst
trees and villas. In fact driving, riding, walking, and
30
STONE PINES, ALGIERS
h'.j^.ic.-'^ -ii ■ .-.jjjafBrt^^ •**,:■ --^^K^ t40u.'W
'--.^U'-.>^i'f' fyff^'gw;
The Country-Side
now motoring are a constant pleasure, for though the
main features of the sea and the Sahel^ or great plain,
with its encircling mountains, are the foundation of each
view, the effects are constantly changing, and the views
from the Bois de Boulogne, the Chateau Hydra, the
village of Koubba, Notre Dame d'Afrique, and the
Casbah have all a distinct individual beauty notwith-
standing some sameness. Other reasons besides the
view take one to the two last. Notre Dame d'Afrique
itself stands finely on the top of a hill. It contains a
wonder-working black Madonna, and the walls are
covered with votive offerings of every sort. Over
the high altar is the unusual inscription, " Notre Dame
d'Afrique priez pour nous et pour les Musulmans." But
it is the poetic service of the blessing of the sea which
draws multitudes up the steep hill on Sunday afternoon.
A procession crosses the terrace to the edge of the cliff,
where stands a cross to the memory of all those who
have been buried in deep waters. The priest wears a
funeral cope, and the realistic detail of a pall is not
forgotten. Then there are prayers and singing, and
holy water is scattered out towards the sea on all sides.
The whole is very simple and quiet, not a pageant at
all, but beautiful in the idea and in the surroundings,
city and sea seen through and over a mist of almond
blossom, white and pink — the emblem of hope, ac-
cording to the Mohammedans.
With the Casbah the attraction lies in its historic
interest and mingling memories — memories almost
ludicrous when we remember the episode of the fan :
31
Algeria and Tunis
how the Dey in his anger used his to strike the French
Consul, forgetting that times had changed, and that it
was no longer possible to insult a European with
impunity, thus commencing the war which ended
so disastrously for himself and so well for France ;
humiliating, when we think of the bargains driven
there for the freedom of Christian slaves ; ghastly, as we
see the chain across the throne-room, where heads of
victims were once exposed after execution. Memories
of gallant knights toiling here as captives, and greatest
among them, as we reckon greatness nowadays, Don
Miguel de Cervantes, the author of Don Quixote. He
was made prisoner by the Corsairs after the battle of
Lepanto in 1575, and brought to Algiers with his
brother Rodrigo. Their father made every effort to
save them, but only succeeded in releasing the less
valuable Rodrigo. The Corsair captain considered
Don Miguel far too important to part with. He and
his friends made many dashing attempts to escape,
which were invariably discovered or betrayed, when
he always chivalrously took all the blame himself. In
1580, just as he was being sent in irons to Constanti-
nople, Father Juan Gil managed to effect his ransom
for the sum of a hundred pounds in English money
of the period.
Bitter memories mostly, but redeemed from sadness
by the heroism of Christian slaves, and by stories such
as that of San Geronimo (or, to give him his right
title, the Venerable Geronimo), told by the Spanish
chronicler Haedo. He was an Arab child captured
32
THE RED ALOES
i^*''^fj_f.;<t.>.j7
The Country-Side
by the Spaniards, baptized and brought up by the
Vicar-General at Oran. Later on he fell again into
the hands of his own people, who made the boy a
Mohammedan ; but when he grew older he determined
to live and work for the Christian faith, so he returned
to Oran, became a soldier, and married. Then after
ten years, in 1569, he was unfortunately made prisoner
by pirates and carried to Algiers. The Mohammedans
were furious that one of their creed and race should
be a renegade, but no threats or persuasions had any
power to move him from his faith. By the Governor's
command, he was buried alive in a block of concrete in
the walls of the " Fort des vingt-quatre heures," his last
words being, " I am a Christian, and a Christian I will
die." This happened on the i8th of September 1569,
and the story was long looked upon as a legend, but
has now been proved to be true by the discovery of the
skeleton in 1853, in the very situation where tradition
had always placed it. Those who care for such sights
may go to the Museum and see a cast of the body,
made from the original block in which he was buried ;
a grim relic to be placed amongst Roman antiquities
and inscriptions. But the block itself, that " noble
sepulchre " as the old chronicler calls it, has now found
a fitting shrine in the Cathedral, where the bones of the
saint rest after his stern warfare, his faithfulness unto
death. The marble sarcophagus bears the inscription,
" Ossa venerabilis servi Dei Geronimo."
33
THE GATES OF THE DESERT
35
CHAPTER III
THE GATES OF THE DESERT
During the winter on the coast of Algeria no one can
complain of a deadly monotony of cloudless skies or of
a too burning sun. There is no cause to grumble over
•dazzling light, nor any reason to wish for smoke to veil
an ugly object in the landscape, for often the rain does
that — indeed, not content with merely veiling, it blots it
out entirely for a time, though in the end the sunshine is
sure to win. Yet truly the winter of 1903- 1904 did
give an excuse to the grumblers, who had enough to do
in comparing notes on the number of inches in the rain-
fall, in discussing their own woes, and worrying over
gloomy prophecies ; for they could count fifty-five con-
secutive days on which rain had fallen. Then the weather
brightened, and the sun came out for a while before the
clouds settled down and it all began over again.
This does not mean steady rain, night and day,
merely that rain fell at least once in every twenty-four
hours — a most unusual state of things. Two or three
weeks are to be expected, but this had never occurred
before, and for once it seemed reasonable to believe even
37
Algeria and Tunis
the oldest inhabitant ; for who would choose to come
winter after winter to such a scene, though for once in a
way it had its interest ? For the rain is rain that can
be seen and heard. No gentle all-enwrapping mist,
when it is hard to tell whether drops fall or no. On
the contrary, it waked us at night with a noise that
seemed prodigious, torrents of water streaming down
roofs and terraces like diminutive waterfalls. Sometimes
in the evening whilst sitting cosily over a wood fire
there would be a sudden rush for the door to see it
anything unwonted was occurring, but with a cry of
" Only the weather again ! " the little excitement would
subside.
Local genius, in the shape of gardeners both French
and Arab, put it all down to the moon, which each month
appeared sitting on its back. Djegude as they called it.
The moon would not amend her wicked ways, and
month after month she continued djegude^ with at times
disastrous results.
The harm done was considerable. Roads, houses,
bridges and railways were washed away ; many people lost
their lives ; and in the mountain districts there were many
landslides. Nothing extraordinary happened in Algiers
itself, nothing so sensational as the story which is still
told (with how much truth it is difficult to say) of a
villa which, while its owners slept, slid down the hillside
at least a hundred yards, as they found to their amaze-
ment on going out next morning and measuring the
track left behind. The villa is standing in its new
position to this day, and is not that sufficient proof .^
38
THE GATES OF THE DESERT
■■vwr:^i"
..- 2%.
"»^".
^^^ffl^^^H
■ y-^. ■■■ . *- ^
The Gates of the Desert
Part of the hillside is said to be formed of a sort of slid-
ing clay, and in those parts of Mustapha land is sold
for a ridiculously small sum ; but houses built there
have a habit of sliding a little or collapsing, so that, as a
rule, notwithstanding the most scientific building, it is
more comfortable and indeed cheaper in the end to pay
more and build on the rock.
In consequence of all this, and of the tales of woe
which filled the papers, travellers were solemnly warned
by their friends before starting on a railway journey,
whether East or West, that though they might not be
fated to be carried away by a landslide, yet they would
almost certainly be forced to walk miles in the night
over precipitous paths (in the scantiest attire, if they
added to their folly by going in a sleeping-car), and that
they would have to try and sleep in impossible places,
with no food of any sort to sustain them. Travelling
was actually quite difficult owing to the railway lines
being washed away so often, and in some places the
damage done was so great that it was more than six
weeks before trains could run straight through again.
One adventure is worth telling, as it was such a wonder-
ful escape. It happened by daylight ; if it can be called
daylight in a tunnel. A rock fell and blocked the line,
the train was just stopped in time to prevent a serious
accident, and the passengers waited two or three hours
in the dark. At last they were all moved into another
train on the other side, where they established themselves
only to find, after three minutes more waiting, that an
avalanche had just fallen ahead, so that had they not
39
\
Aloreria and Tunis
encountered the first obstacle, they must inevitably have
been swept away to the gulf below by the second. This
put them in better spirits for a weary scramble to com-
parative comfort and safety.
However, the final result of the wet has been a
phenomenal harvest, with corn and wine in abundance.
The visitors may have suffered, but the colonists have
gained in the long run. Even the visitors did not have
such a bad time, for it was not really winter, but rather a
wet, rainy summer, with bursts of warmth and sunshine,
brightened by summer flowers and the singing of birds.
Still, on the whole, it seemed wiser to many of us to
make a dash for the desert instead of lingering to watch
the clouds roll up again and again in a place where the
dampness of the soil prevented any advantage being
taken of intervening hours of sunshine. Notwithstand-
ing all forebodings, our own journey was as uneventful,
dull, and wearisome as so long a journey can easily be.
The choice is given you of going by a train which crawls
all day, from about seven in the morning till seven at
night, and sleeping in a tiny inn at a bleak, bare station.
El Guerrah, with no town or village near it, or of doing
the same thing at night, and going straight on without a
change to your destination. We chose the latter on
both our visits, and the first time had an amusing experi-
ence. The whole winter in Algiers had been fine, really
typical, and the beginning of March was hot, — warm
enough to wear summer muslins. Friendly warnings
had prepared us to take wraps for the colder atmosphere
of the mountain region ; but what was our surprise
40
The Gates of the Desert
when morning dawned to find a snow landscape all
round us and snow falling steadily. When the train
stopped at El Guerrah for breakfast, the scene was
comical in the extreme. Every one had to get out and
wade through three inches of snow and slush to the
hotel on the other side of the station. Very few of the
passengers had any wraps or umbrellas, and most of
them had only the thinnest of shoes, so that it was a
damp and shivering company who crowded round the
fire, and tried to make the most of bad coffee, poor
bread, and impossible butter. Our cloaks and umbrellas
were objects of envy, which we in our turn felt towards
those provided with suitable boots. Now the inn and
breakfast are quite good, but then the whole effect, the
open wayside station, the snow-covered plain, the unin-
teresting desolate hills, the slush and mud, the wet, cold
Arabs struggling with the luggage, the few passengers
growling and shivering, and exchanging condolences in
French, English, German, and Italian, made an odd
picture of the joys of travel, only to be thoroughly
enjoyed by people with a Mark Tapley spirit. As a
final touch, all the small luggage had been deposited in
the snow, and remained there for an hour, until the
other train came in, when it was hoisted into the car-
riages, and put on the clean linen-covered seats, with the
result that a rapid thaw set in when the foot-warmers
arrived, so that a general pushing of bags and hold-alls
outside the window for a good scraping was the first
consideration, after which the drying of shoes on the
burning hot bottles proceeded gaily. For some hours
41 6
Algeria and Tunis
longer the snow kept with us, but as we came towards
the desert it disappeared, and Biskra itself was warmer
than Algiers.
In 1904, notwithstanding the wet season, and that
we started a month earlier, there was no sudden change
of temperature. El Guerrah was as bright as it can ever
be, for at the best it is a desolate spot, even when later
on the plain is carpeted with flowers, orange and gold.
There is already a sense of loneliness, of wide spaces
unbroken by towns or villages ; just a few houses here
and there, strung on the single line of railway like a
thread ; a few stone gourbis^ or native huts ; then dark
Bedawin camps, flocks of sheep and goats, and now and
then a horseman or a camel.
For a long time the line skirts a salt lake, which at
times lives up to the worst that Pierre Loti says of such
places, " Morne, triste et desole"; at others the surround-
ing hills seem to grow in dignity, to glow in soft reds and
purples, rising straight from the still water, and mirrored
with the absolute fidelity of a Norwegian fjord, a haunt-
ing stillness over all. Batna is the only town of much
importance passed, and already the hills are growing
wilder. Gradually they close in and excitement begins
to grow, for soon will come the first sight of the desert.
There is but little cultivation, the mountain-sides are
dry and barren, a few tamarinds grow along the sides of a
stream. Suddenly the jagged ridges of high mountains
block the way, like a veritable wall. Precipitous crags
of warm reddish colour, stern and rugged as the Dolo-
mite Peaks, rise without a touch of green, from low roll-
42
SPINNING
The Gates of the Desert
ing hills which are equally arid in character, or when the
gorge itself is reached, straight from the river-bed.
The French Settlement of El Kantara, if such a name
can be used for a handful of houses and a station, lies
just at the foot of the great wall, at a point where the
rift which forms the gorge is scarcely seen. Mountains
and rocks tower above the small low houses, crushing
into insignificance the attempts at cultivation, the few
palms and fruit trees and the treasured vegetable gardens.
The inn stands, as the last effort of civilisation, in the
face of the great barrier placed between the desert and
the Tell.
At the entrance of the gorge, spanning the noisy
rushing river, is a Roman bridge, which gives the place
its name of El Kantara. It is a single arch, much
restored, or rather rebuilt, under the second Napoleon.
The Romans had also a fortress here, known as Calcius
Herculis, and many traces of their occupation are still
found in the district.
The majority of travellers content themselves with
admiring as much of the ravine as the three tunnels
permit them to see ; though it is quite impossible to
gain an adequate idea of the grandeur of the Gates of
the Desert by peering and craning out of the windows
of a train.
The few who know better, or who love less trodden
paths, are welcomed by a rush of eager Arab guides
as the carriage doors open. Happy the guide who
manages to secure a prize ! He takes complete posses-
sion of his victims and their belongings, puts them into
43
Algeria and Tunis
a respectable omnibus worthy of a big town, drives with
them, or runs after them, to the little hotel, where he
superintends their choice of rooms, and from that
moment scarcely allows their steps to stray outside
without his sanction.
Vine trellises and a shady tree make the courtyard
gay, and brighten the Post Office opposite, whilst beds
of violets send up a delicious fragrance to the verandah
terrace on the first floor. The house is long and low,
with a wing over the stables, reached by an outside
staircase ; the main building has a large covered terrace,
giving a wide, cool shadow. The rooms have windows
but no doors, so that every one has to come up the
steep staircase to the roof, and then wander round in
sociable fashion till he reaches his own room. Out
here in the shadow, with dazzling light beyond — light
reflected and intensified by the white road and the
yellowish rocks — one can sit and watch all the coming
and going that make the life of the little colony, or,
better still, the caravans that almost ceaselessly pass this
way. Strings of camels turn their supercilious faces
up as they pace along, their light, soft tread making
no sound on the dusty road. They bear heavy loads,
wrapped in sacking or camel's-hair cloth, and carry
fodder and corn towards Biskra. Sometimes it is a
real caravan with tents and cooking utensils, women
and babies as well as men and boys, which swings past
with the same rhythmic stride. No longer a study in
browns, yellowish greys, and white, but brightened by
flashes of colour, the women's gowns of blue or bright
44
The Gates of the Desert
deep red, and the children's orange and yellow. All
walk past with bare feet and stately movement, or
perch themselves in an apparently insecure fashion on
the top of their goods, and go swaying past into the
unknown.
But it is not enough to sit and watch, even though
ever and anon new incidents occur. The thirsty come
and wind the wheel that brings water from the well.
They step into the courtyard without a question, and
draw sufficient for their needs ; then they smoke and
talk. This water is famous for its freshness and purity,
qualities usually absent in the desert. The great rocks
give shelter from the sun except during the middle of
the day, and, what is still more important, from the
dreaded sirocco, making it possible for French colonists
to live here in comparative comfort even in summer.
There is, however, something strange in this life, which
sets its impress on their faces — something either in the
isolation, the heat, or the absence of amusement, that
makes most of them grave and melancholy, taking from
them in many cases their natural French vivacity, and
giving instead a touch of the more serious, not the
laughing side of the Arab character. Not that this is a
rule without exceptions, for there are many — notably
the man who waits at this very hotel, who is as gay and
cheerful a person as it is possible to see. The French
talk Arabic, and the Arabs who have dealings with them
speak French. As usual there is a school for Arab
boys, to teach them useful knowledge, for this is one of
the features of the French colonisation ; they introduce
45
Algeria and Tunis
schools everywhere, supplying French masters, make
wonderful roads as well, and bring in post and tele-
graph, though it is said that Arabic is not a language
that lends itself easily to telegraphic form.
The Arab boys are clever and quick, and soon pick
up enough to take them far afield. In the summer, as
they proudly tell you, it is " too hot " for them in
the desert, and they love to migrate to the coast and
work in the harbours at Bone or Bougie, and sometimes
even cross to France and manage to make a living at
Marseilles. Our boy at El Kantara, Mabrouk by
name, had done more. He was the one person in the
whole place who could speak English — not much, indeed,
but just enough to translate for those tourists who
were in the unhappy position of knowing no French.
He had been taken to England by an Englishman, in
charge of some Arab horses, and had spent a whole
summer there, working in his master's house and run-
ning errands for what he was pleased to call a " factor
boot," which by his subsequent explanations we dis-
covered to mean a button factory. He was amusingly
conceited over his doings and acquirements, showing
his photograph taken with " me chum," a telegraph
boy, the trim uniform and the flowing burnous looking
thoroughly out of place side by side, in a way that the
two grinning faces did not. His ideas on England and
its glories were at any rate original, for he was not
struck by either wet or cold ; he was evidently made
much of, and thought our food a thing to talk a great
deal about. Some of his statements, such as, that in
46
THE RED VILLAGE, EL KANTARA
.C. 1
?1
The Gates of the Desert
England every one has breakfast at 6 o'clock and eats a
sort of pudding with sugar, are rather on a par with
those of a Belgian who once told us that English ladies
always breakfasted in bed, though certainly Mabrouk's
thecry promises better for an active nation. EI Kantara
has been a favourite haunt of French artists for the
last few years, and many pictures painted here have
gained success in the Salon, so, naturally, Mabrouk
looked upon himself as a judge of art, and was prepared
to show all the best points of view.
The first impression on walking through the gorge is
one of barren desolation and absolute dryness. Except at
noon, when the sun beats down into the ravine, there are
strong, cool shadows contrasting with the blaze of light.
The gorge itself is narrow, so that there is barely room
for the road above and the river beneath. It seems
a mere rift in the massive ridge, the perpendicular
walls of red rock are cut into fantastic shapes, pinnacles
and pillars growing more picturesque in form as the
further end is reached. All ideas of desolation are
instantly banished by the splendour of the sight that
meets the eye, as the sea of sand washes up as it were
to another sea of waving green. A long turn of the
road leads round to a bridge below, but Mabrouk
scrambles down a steep stony path, and with a warning
" Mind your headache," disappears into a steep tunnel,
built to drain the road, but evidently looked upon by
the Arabs as a short cut made for their convenience,
as it saves half a mile or so of dusty highway.
From the bridge, a modern one, the scene is impos-
47
Algeria and Tunis
ing, looking back into the shadows of the gorge where
the river leaps foaming over huge rocks, and where
groups of cleanly Arabs are busy washing their white
garments in its waters.
But if to look back is fine, to look forward is to
have the magic charm of an oasis revealed to you. The
blue river winds amongst the palms, — thousands upon
thousands of palms, which bend, sway, and toss their
feathery heads as the breeze passes over them. They
look green and soft against the wide sweep of sand and
stones, the red and yellow rocks of the huge range
behind that stretches east and west, and the other
mountain range that bounds the horizon with its purples
and blues. Such is the first sight of the desert as it
appears to the traveller coming through that majestic
gate. But if the gate is looked upon as the entrance
to the fertile lands of the plain, then the most beautiful
point is just below, amongst the stones and boulders of
the river-bed, where the craggy peaks look their best,
set in a frame of living green.
Across the bridge the road leads upward over the
barren plateau towards the " red " village, the river
screened from sight by the palms, and also by an inter-
vening hill, on which stands conspicuously the tomb-
mosque of a saint. The red village takes its name from
the colour of the soil used in its building, which instead
of being of the usual grey dusty hue is bright, almost
orange in tint, becoming really red at sunset.
In certain lights, the village suggests the ruins of
some old castle stretching out upon the waste on the
48
ON THE EDGE OF THE DESERT
The Gates of the Desert
one side, and on the other descending, half-hidden
amongst the palms, to the edge of the cliff which over-
hangs the river, the minaret of the mosque being only
just visible above the trees. Mud walls mark out
small unfruitful-looking fields, in which little grows
except masses of prickly pear, forming thick hedges in
every direction. As the men were hard at work,
digging and watering, it was evident that much was
expected in the future, and these were probably new
stretches of land in process of being reclaimed from the
desert.
Even within the walls there is the same suggestion
of a fortress : the walls are high, and seldom broken by
doors ; windows in the accepted sense of the word are
rare — a few holes in the wall suffice to give air and light.
Another peculiar feature is the way some of the houses
are built across the streets, forming square, tunnel-like
passages exceeding dark after the glare. Mabrouk
threaded his way in and out, up and down through the
labyrinth of alleys, all rather lonely in the early
morning, left to a few old men crouching in sunny
corners, and to an old woman or two carrying water ;
for El Kantara women, though they do work occasion-
ally in the gardens, and do some washing down by the
river, seem, as a rule, to keep as quietly within their
walls as if they were town-bred. The paths down to
the river wind through palm gardens, and are largely
at the mercy of the streams used for irrigation. These
are turned on and off by the simple method of putting
in a stone or a spadeful of earth, and thus diverted into
49 7
Algeria and Tunis
new channels they often swamp the path to such a
degree that it is difficult to pick one's way, the clay
becoming very slippery when wet. Every garden has
a right to a certain quantity of water each day, which
is carefully measured by time. Under the palms grow
many fruit trees, notably figs and apricots. Down in
the valley, across the artificial watercourse, out on to the
dry part of the river-bed, a very wilderness of stones
and small oleanders, blindingly white in the sunshine,
the village appears in a setting so different that it loses
all resemblance to its fellows in the Sahara or in Egypt,
and suggests old drawings seen long ago of places in
the tropics. Perched on the top of a cliff, the orange
tones of the soil repeat themselves in the walls ; the
huts seem turret-like additions to the natural formation,
and form a curious foil for the few well-placed palms
and the delicate tints of some apricot trees in blossom ;
behind this the deeply-fissured ridge stands sharply
defined against the sky.
There are three villages, the Red, the White, and
the Black, with imposing Arabic names, and each with
its special interest, making it quite amusing to poke
about and watch the life. If one is too lazy to walk,
and yet does not mind a good shaking over rather un-
even tracks, and turning a few slightly alarming corners,
— alarming, that is, to people unaccustomed to Eastern
roads, — it is possible and very pleasant to drive round
the oasis, making little detours on foot to see special
objects of interest, and particularly to stroll along the
edge of the cliff to enjoy the sight of the river and the
50
CARDING WOOL
The Gates of the Desert
trees ; for there is no lack of palms, considering there
are said to be over 90,000 of them.
Mabrouk, notwithstanding his travels, gives the
oasis a wonderful character. " Every one has enough
and is content. The dates are good ; fruit, corn, and
vegetables are plentiful ; and the flocks and herds
prosper." In short, an earthly Paradise ! Not a
paradise suited to European tastes, perhaps, for who
would care to live in a windowless adobe hut, to sleep
on a mud floor wrapped in a burnous, or to live for
ever on cous-couss and dates, even though it all might
be rather fun for a change ? The villagers are friendly
folk, and give pleasant greetings. The elder men utter
a sonorous blessing in Arabic, while the younger say
" Bon jour" fervently, and often like a chat to air their
French.
No one ever begs, or even looks expectant, though
they will walk with you along the road, telling of much
that is strange and interesting, and asking innumerable
questions. To show how kindly they are to each other
and to strangers, any man who was near at the time
would stand on guard over me whilst my boy trotted
off" to get his dinner, holding an umbrella over my head
with great care if it was sunny, and would slip away
with a ^slama, or good-bye, when the boy returned,
not even thinking of a reward.
But it is a diff'erent matter when it comes to painting
inside one of the huts. To paint a woman ! Mabrouk
said he would take me to his uncle's house in the white
village because I was "so nice a lady," but that it
51
Algeria and Tunis
would not have been possible had I unfortunately been
a man. It is rare to gain an advantage for such a
reason, but the privilege was not to be despised, so we
started off, my painting things carefully concealed
under his burnous. With infinite precaution, to avoid
meeting any of the men, and great care in looking out
to see that no one observed or followed us, we at last
arrived at a rough door in a high wall. He knocked
and talked, and at last after some fuss, the capturing of
barking dogs and shutting them up, we were admitted,
only to be confronted by one of the dreaded men,
who absolutely refused to let his young wife, whom
he evidently considered very beautiful, sit for me.
Happily he relented sufficiently to send for another
woman — to my mind far more attractive : tall, slender,
and graceful, and wearing her flowing cotton garments
as if she were a queen. He then disappeared to the
cafe, and we set to work in the courtyard, a corner of
which was swept clean for me. She stood calmly
spinning and looking down, intensely interested and
amused by my proceedings, which were watched and
sometimes interrupted by the various animals who
inhabited the place — a horse, a cow, goats, sheep, and
some fowls. Having safely disposed of the tyrannical
husband, the other woman began to fancy she would
like to be painted too, so long negotiations began in
Arabic, with the result that we were to come back in
the afternoon and she would card wool, as she had been
doing all the morning. Going back and coming again
were made into a delightful farce by the extreme
52
IN THE HEART OF AN OASIS
The Gates of the Desert
wariness displayed. Nothing exciting happened after
all, but there was great pleasure for my boy, at any
rate in the exercise of his cleverness. Personally, I was
never quite certain whether it was all a game or not.
Some artists told me that in other places they had
managed to get into the interior of the houses by
expending a good bit of money, but then they may
not have seen the prettiest wife. Anyhow the younger
woman posed in the house, the horse was turned out
to make room, the gate was securely barred, and quiet
reigned. She was quite short and very fat, with a soft,
clear complexion, big eyes, and eyebrows touched up
with kohl. She wore a muslin dress wound about her
and kept on by a girdle and brooches, and she had
plenty of silver ornaments and charms. The elder
woman was dressed in printed cotton, obviously
from Manchester, but there was nothing crude in the
colour, and the floating garments had a most Oriental
appearance. There is no furniture in these dwellings,
— just a shelf, some hooks, a mill to grind the corn,
a few finely-shaped jars and pans, and a good many
coloured cloths and burnouses. Being hospitably
minded, they offered dried dates, corn and nuts in flat
plaited baskets, in the same kindly way that Mabrouk
himself would always bring a branch of some special
dates for me, insisting on their goodness, " for, see, the
date comes off^ and leaves the stone on the stalk" — to
his mind a sure sign of a perfect fruit. The open door
let in light and air, but otherwise there was only a
small square hole ; the roof was supported by two square
53
Algeria and Tunis
pillars. The sheep and goats trotted in and out all the
time, and so did the chickens, all perfectly happy and
at home. Both the women had charming smiles and
manners, curious though they were about every detail
of my dress and painting. They had not an idea of
being frightened by a camera, and posed proudly and
willingly. They became a little anxious as the after-
noon wore on ; so after many farewells, blessings, and
good wishes, we slipped away in the same watchful,
mysterious fashion as before, but by another route.
54
THE QUEEN OF THE DESERT
55
CHAPTER IV
THE QUEEN OF THE DESERT
On leaving the gorge of El Kantara, the train passes
straight out on to the desert, where it runs on a level
with the tops of the trees which rise from the oasis
below. The line itself, an unpretentious track, without
fence or protection of any kind, scarcely shows on the
sandy waste. The flocks and herds and the passing
Arabs are expected to look out for themselves.
Yet, however unassuming it may be, there is some-
thing incongruous in the sight of a railway winding
through and round these mountain chains, crossing
wide stretches of undulating plain, and taking its
commonplace, everyday way into the land of mystery
— the Great Sahara.
At first it is hard to realise that this mystery still
exists, or that it can be felt by an ordinary mortal.
The crowded station differs from others of its kind in
this only, that there are, amongst those dignified,
white-robed figures, many more than usual whose dark
faces show plainly that a train is still an object of
wonder if not of dread.
57 8
Algeria and Tunis
The mystery is not to be found in a hasty glance at
the modern town of Biskra, which, new as it is, has a
distinct character of its own, quite independent of its
setting, or of the numerous villages hidden among the
palms.
This does not seem to be caused by its military im-
portance, although this is considerable, as it is the key
of the desert, and the soldiers are many who throng its
streets. Nor is it the style of the buildings, for neither
is this in any wise remarkable. The streets, though
fairly wide, are straight, and the houses low — sometimes
of only one story. However, the majority have an
upper floor, either above an arcade, the lines of which
are rough and simple, or with little balconies gay with
many-coloured hangings. Naturally all the houses are
subject to the reign of whitewash, though not perhaps
to the usual extent.
The shady alleys of a well-kept garden form a
pleasant walk on the north side of the town, and there
is also a pretty gazelles' garden, bright with mimosa
and hibiscus, where a grove overshadows the calm pool
of an Oriental fountain.
Probably the distinction of Biskra lies not so much
in its outward form, as in its being actually the one
place in Algeria where the antagonism between East
and West is most clearly seen.
The limited size of the town, the absence of any
artificial divisions, the lack of contrast between old
town and new, for all is new alike, clean and well-kept,
the breadth of the few streets, all unite to make an
58
IN THE MARKET-PLACE, BISKRA
The Queen of the Desert
appropriate stage for nondescript characters to play
their part. The casino and the hotels are within a
stone's throw of the market-place, which is the centre
of native life. Here the wild freedom of the desert
with its few needs and absolute simplicity is in touch
with the careful and elaborate luxury which the
Western world demands even in its moments of rest
and play.
The races mingle and confront each other at every
turn, and not the races only, but the different types of
each race, seen in strangely new guise by sheer force
of contrast under the brilliant African sun ; for
Biskra is the gathering ground of a curious cosmo-
politan crowd, an assemblage so varied that it would
be hard to name a nation, however insignificant, with-
out its representative. It is the nameless spell cast
by the desert on her sons, and on those who move
within her borders, that draws hither this motley
multitude. But the spell which fascinates has also
power to repel. A few come and go finding no beauty,
seeing nothing but the monotony of sand, dust, and
palms, and are full of complaints, utterly impervious
to the glamour that holds so many in thrall.
The impression of variety and contrast felt in the
town is repeated and accentuated in the halls of the
hotel, when the French officers entertain the Bach
Agha, the Caids, some important sheik, or an officer
of the Spahis. Their imposing figures, stately move-
ments, and courteous manners show to great advantage
in that gay scene. The soft folds of their white
59
Algeria and Tunis
woollen or silken draperies, and the pure colour of the
brilliant red or tender blue of their fine cloth burnouses,
tell triumphantly against the subdued tints, the frills
and fluffiness of the modern gowns, or the stiff black
and white garments worn by their fellow-guests. Uni-
forms are not so becoming to them. The dome-like
turban, bound with camel's-hair or an embroidered
scarf, gives a peculiar pose, almost a stoop, to the head,
as it is worn with a white silk haick tucked into a pale
blue zouave coat, while in their ordinary flowing robes
they look as upright as darts. Stars and orders, or
rows of medals on the outer burnous (they often wear
three or four), bear witness to what these men have
done already, or could do again. In the days when the
fortunes of France were low, her dangers and difficulties
great, the Bach Agha of the period stood firm with all
the tribes under his banner, no small help at that time.
It is for past loyalty as well as for present power that
the Chief of to-day holds his proud position.
All this gaiety, noise, and confused talking, interesting
though they are, become wearisome in the end, and
then how good it is to escape to the quiet terrace
above. The house stands foursquare, built round a
quadrangle, or rather a garden of palms. The east
terrace over the arcades is delightful all day long, from
the moment when the first gleam of dawn shows behind
the dark mountains to that other moment, even more
beautiful, when the afterglow has faded and the still
brilliance of the moon comes in its stead. Flooded
with sunshine in the early morning the shadows soon
60
EVENING ON THE SAHARA
I
■«i
The Queen of the Desert
begin to creep across, and it is left a cool refuge in the
heat of the day. The outlook has not quite the effect
of indefinite space given by the view from the roof or
the top of the minaret, but there is a restful breadth
as well as much simplicity of line. Across the road,
beyond a strip of vegetable garden bordered by palms,
lies a broad stretch of sand, very light in colour, which
an occasional gleam or touch of blue reveals as the
river-bed. Mud banks on the further side form low
cliffs, and from them the plain extends to a curious
formation of broken mounds and moraine, to end finally
in a mountain range.
Monotonous, serene, ever changing yet always the
same, the sea itself has not more varying moods. Each
passing hour leaves its own impress on that receptive
stillness, which is enhanced but not disturbed by every
wind that blows and by each light cloud in the sky.
Towards evening, however, all who wish to feel the
enchantment of a sunset in the desert, mount to the
roof and pace its broad terrace, or climb the minaret
to learn somewhat of the immensity of the Sahara.
The town lies in a nest of green, in the midst of a vast,
barren, and arid plain, which is surrounded by a horse-
shoe of mountains, lofty in the north, but diminishing
by degrees as the spurs run southward. To the south
also lies the oasis with its myriad palms. Beyond,
nothing but the waste, across which fall the long blue
shadows of evening ; stretching still further southward,
a dead level, broken here and there by dark bands
of green or purple, that mark the distant oasis. The
6i
Algeria and Tunis
horizon disappears in pale amethyst melting into tender
blue, and above a delicate blush vanishing in unclouded
light. Magnificent sunsets are not to be seen every
night even at Biskra ; there are evenings of cloud, grey
and misty, days when the sun goes down in wrath.
More often the fall of day brings cloudless radiance,
pure mellowness of light, which dies gradually away, to
be followed after an interval by a golden glow behind
the western ridge of mountain peaks, blue with the
exquisite blue so characteristic of Algeria. The glow
deepens to true orange, sometimes to a burning red,
and rays of light radiate from the vanished sun, leaving
pathways of delicate green between. Our Northern
atmosphere has its own beauties of mist and cloud, but
we miss this absolute transparent purity. With us the
gold loses itself in greys and purples on the horizon ;
here the colour is crystal clear, and the jewel-like tints
vibrate as they pass imperceptibly from the red of the
ruby through all tones of topaz, amber, and palest
emerald to deepest amethyst. Spellbound in this
calm, self dies ; there is no place for earthly trouble
under this luminous sky. Something of mystery and
sadness there is — a feeling of intense loneliness ; but
over all there broods — unchanging, immutable — a spirit
of destiny, telling that what is written is written. To
some it seems a spirit of rest and faith ; to the Arabs
it may have been the source of fatalism, the silence
checking the tendency to anxiety and care.
More uncommon than these calm afterglows are
those sunsets, when fleecy cloud-masses are piled one
62
SUNSET
UNIV HSITY
OF
The Queen of the Desert
above another, purple touched with fire, so that the
very gates of heaven seem to open and give a glimpse
of the glory beyond.
The glamour of the setting sun and of the afterglow
transforms the east as well as the west, staining the
mountain-sides a wondrous red, whilst the azure shadow
of the earth mounts slowly to veil the roseate sky
above. Once a feathery cloud-wreath soared in long
sweeping curves from the horizon to the zenith, the
strands of gossamer glowing with hues of rose, delicate
and opalescent, a cloud of phantasy in a world hardly
more real.
The common light of every day works other spells
by simpler means. The vibration of subtle colour is
gone, and in its stead there is the play of light and
shade, or rather of light upon light, for the men of these
desert tribes are clad almost entirely in white. The
poor wear a white gandourah, a long garment of wool
or cotton covered by one or more burnouses. The
wealthy bury their garments of richly coloured and
embroidered cloth, or even plush, under a multiplicity
of silk and woollen robes of the prevailing white. The
result is that white has here a value, a range of tone
not often seen. Every different texture has its own
peculiar tint ot ivory, cream, or snow to distinguish
each from each, and from that other white of the rough
cast walls. And, as if that were not enough, age and
dirt lend their aid to the variety already produced by
texture and quality.
Touches of colour are rare, and these are given by
63
Algeria and Tunis
the scarlet cloak of a Caid, the blue of the Spahis, or
the more barbaric reds and blues worn by a Bedawin
woman. But of women there are few about. The
throng that fills the market-place consists mainly of
men and boys, busy buying and selHng, seated on the
ground with their wares strewn round them. Piles
of oranges and lemons, vegetables of all familiar kinds,
great heaps of corn spread on cloths, layers of flat
cakes of bread arranged on trays, and most untempting
masses of pressed dates. The buyers also squat down
to examine their purchases, to talk and gesticulate ; for
it takes much time and consideration to choose and
bargain for even a handful of oranges. There are
also stalls such as are seen in any continental town ;
some full of cheap machine-made goods, others decked
with curious articles to meet the village needs. Discs
of red leather, carefully worked with colours and
glittering with gold, conceal under a flap small mirrors,
of which every woman wears one. Fans, like small
flags, as gay as the mirrors ; baskets, generally saucer-
shaped, and of many colours ; woven camel's-hair belts,
barbaric harness and saddle-bags, dagger-like knives in
sheaths, beads and bracelets, and even stuffed lizards,
are temptingly displayed to view. Under the arches
are other shops and cafes, and everywhere are men,
either sitting idly in the sun, their hoods pulled over
their heads, or sleeping huddled up in their burnouses,
shapeless as sacks, hardly human at all. The more
dignified sit on carpets or matting under the arcades,
drinking their coffee quietly, or playing games of
64
THE FRUIT MARKET, BISKRA
— -u-Loi^-c:^. ij^ ;*jK:^.':^',-i'A -U^i^.v.t:": ■;•.-.-
The Queen of the Desert
draughts or dominoes with keen interest. One or
more are always watching if the game is good. Cafes
are everywhere, some provided with chairs and small
tables, but they are only popular with soldiers, Spahis and
the like. The carpeted dais or more humble matting
laid down in the road itself, attracts the true Bedawin.
The only part of the town where white does not rule
and colour runs riot is the street of the dancing girls.
Hangings and draperies cover the green balconies with
rainbow hues, whilst the handsome, dark-eyed women,
with their heavily painted brows, rival each other in
their vividly brilliant silks. Their dress is an odd
mixture of the Oriental and European, after the fashion
of a comic opera, not at all beautiful but quite effective.
Especially so is the head-dress of skilfully knotted
silken kerchiefs, heavily interwove^ with gold and
bound with silver chains, which also encircle the face,
the forehead being covered with many coins. The
women wear quantities of showy jewellery, but only
the chains and ear-rings have any style or character.
Occasionally the streets are gay with flags and
banners, as groups of men and children in bright array
start on a pilgrimage to some Marabout. All the feasts
begin in this way, with much beating of tom-toms and
weird music, for as there is rhythm it would be rude to
call it noise, as most people do at first. After a time,
the sadness and monotony make their own appeal,
expressing in another language, hard to understand and
perhaps a little vague, the power and feeling of the land.
Now and then a Marabout returns the compliment,
65 9
Algeria and Tunis
and visits the town with two or three followers, bearing
banners of red and green, and a bowl to collect alms,
accompanied by the inevitable tom-tom. He makes a
slow progress through the street, the people hastening to
greet him, and often to kiss his hands or the hem of his
cloak. Some of these Marabouts are quite sane and
dignified, whilst others are half-witted, ragged creatures.
Reading aloud is another practice most popular here.
In the daytime a grave old man, book in hand, will
take his station at a street corner, and read to a number
of men sitting on the ground, and listening with rapt
attention to his words. The passers-by stand attentively
for a while, and generally end by joining the little circle.
In the evening at one of the cafes there will always be a
reader, a man with much dramatic power, who draws
large audiences, who gather round to hear tales from the
Arabian Nights.
This is quite a different affair to the ordinary story-
teller, who chants long passages from the life of
Mohammed accompanied by the sounds of his own tom-
tom. He will sit and play with a cloth spread in front
of him, looking like a Hving idol, and the women work-
ing in their tents send little children with offerings of
bread or flour tied up in their veils, for veils are still
used in the near East for carrying treasures as they were
in the days of Ruth. The old man sits impassively
droning quietly on, neither heeding nor caring for the
groups of children who come and go, staring and listen-
ing with wondering eyes. Odd little figures they are in
their trailing burnouses or bright-coloured shirts, the
66
THE STORY-TELLER
F -ME
gSMWCHSiTY
OF
5*LlPO»
The Queen of the Desert
boys seeming to have a partiality for yellow and orange,
while the boys and girls alike are toddling imitations of
their fathers and mothers. Only the smaller boys wear
a fez or cap and no turban. Nearly all go barefoot ; it
is only the very well-to-do who wear yellow slippers, and
socks are still more uncommon.
If, as often happens, a boy wishes to go to France or
England, he will promise anxiously, as if it added greatly
to his future usefulness, " If you will take me with you
I will wear boots." It is quite evident that the wearing
of boots is in itself considered a proof of progress, and
if it is possible to procure a pair however old, or a
ragged coat, men and boys alike will add them to their
own proper clothes and wear them proudly, quite
unaware of the painful effect.
That is one of the trials of Biskra, the degrading of
the native character and appearance by the example of
the lower class of the Moghrabi, or Westerners, as they
call strangers. Of course this happens everywhere, and
more's the pity ; but it has gone so far in some of the
larger towns like Algiers, that there are few of the old
families left, and it is now an almost European city with
a mixed population in the lower class. Here the Arabs
are only learning, but already they drink and beg,
bother and tout as guides, and even gamble. Night
after night, wealthy Arabs may be seen in the casino
playing " Petits chevaux " with stolid, immovable faces,
taking their gains and losses with equal indifference.
El Kantara may not be an earthly Paradise, but Biskra
is far enough from the age of innocence.
67
LIFE ON AN OASIS
69
A VILLAGE STREET, BISKRA
CHAPTER V
LIFE ON AN OASIS
Enthusiasm about a desert life comes quickly, so
perfect is the view from the roof; but disillusion
follows as easily, with the desire to explore in every
direction. Difficulties and drawbacks then begin to
appear ; for this is not Egypt. Here are no rows of
big white donkeys and picturesque groups of smiling
boys waiting your pleasure. No dromedaries growl
and grumble as their riders mount, though now and
then some unwary tourists may be seen on pack-camels,
fondly imagining that they are learning the qualities of
a real ship of the desert. Even horses are rare and
hard to get. The concierge smiles and suggests a
carriage or a tram, for it is not given to every one to
enjoy long trudges over rough tracks or on dusty
paths. But a tram ! Could anything be more un-
romantic ? Even a carriage hardly sounds better for
a voyage of discovery.
Finally, having decided that there is no help for it,
and that romance must be quite independent of such
details, some expedition is arranged, only to end perhaps
71
Algeria and Tunis
in bitter disappointment. Instead of being greeted in
the morning by the expected sunshine, there is a down-
pour of rain, which makes the roads a sea of mud and
quite impassable for days, leaving the roof the one dry
place available for a walk. For though the sun can
broil and scorch, there is no lack of rain ; and rain in
the Sahara is almost more out of place than a tram, and
certainly far more depressing. The mud is of a depth
and stickiness quite unsurpassed, and those who dare its
dangers find progress slow, as they slide back nearly as
much as they advance.
Another drawback is wind. Icy wind from the
snow mountains, or hot wind with sand-storms from
the south. In a good season there is said to be wind
three days a week, but in a bad season, or during the
races, it blows daily.
Biskra races are the great excitement of the place
and of Algeria, and it is a superstition (founded on
fact) that whatever date is chosen for the great event,
it is sure to prove the windiest week in the year. This
sounds nothing to the unsophisticated, but to those who
know, it means misery.
A day may open in peace ; the sun shines ; there
is not a breath of air ; it is warm — nay, hot. Ideal
weather. Breakfast is hurried through ; such a day is
not to be wasted, an early start is made, and for the
first hour or two all goes well. Then comes a little
shivery chill ; the sun is no longer as warm ; the palms
rustle. In a few minutes the wind blows hard. Dust
rises in clouds, and everything disappears under that
72
Life on an Oasis
thick veil. The Arabs shrink and cower in corners,
their hoods over their faces covering mouth and nose.
Such a wind can last all day, the sun just visible as in a
London fog, only white not red. In fact, the dust
hangs in the air like mist, the mountains vanish com-
pletely, and nearer objects are only dimly visible. It
is dense, luminous, horrible. In less than a minute
everything is lost under layers of dust. Dust drifts
through closed doors and windows, and makes little
heaps as snow does in a blizzard.
On ordinary windy days the dust is very trying,
and the dread of wind spoils many an exquisite day, as
the wicked habit it has of rising morning after morning
before 1 1 o'clock stops many pleasant plans. Still,
when compared with memories of fog and rain, cold
and slush, on the other side of the Mediterranean,
the gain is so great that the sand-storm is almost
agreeable.
The morning freshness has a quality in the desert
unfelt elsewhere — a purity, a crispness, a delicious sense
of invigoration that brings thoughts of the Engadine in
a fine August.
The first impulse is to go south, to leave the town
behind, and even the village negre as the French call it,
though few are the blacks who dwell there, to go forth
beyond the monastery which Cardinal Lavigerie founded
for soldier-monks, Freres du Sahara, who were to fight,
preach, and abolish slavery, but who seem to have failed
in their mission, as their home is now a hospital.
Cardinal Lavigerie is held in special honour as is his
73 lo
Algeria and Tunis
due, and his statue stands looking towards the desert
he loved, in an open space near the gazelles' garden.
Even the Chateau Landon, the show garden of the
oasis, must be left behind, though already, on the path
beneath the walls, the call of the desert is felt. Nothing
intervenes ; the river-bed, wide and dry, is at your feet.
The river itself, an insignificant stream, is lost in the
expanse of sand and stones bounded by low cliffs of
ochre-tinted soil, from which rises an oasis bright and
fresh, but small. Beyond, nothing but infinite space, till
sky and desert meet in a blue so soft that the French
soldiers on their first coming cried, " The sea ! the
sea !
Further on one can wander in and out on mud
paths under the palms, listening to the soft murmur
of running water from the rills, which carry life and
refreshing moisture through the shady glades. From
this welcome shade the river-bed looks white and
dazzling, and whiter still the Koubba of a favourite
Marabout planted in its midst.
All is light yet full of colour ; the very mountains
of the Aures are radiant with rose, and the long blue
shadows are full of light. Arabs come from under the
palms, and find their way to the river to wash and
stamp on their clothes in the bright sunshine. A man
and two small boys settle down beside a little stream
under the trees with a burnous, which they scrub all
over with soap, taking infinite pains to see that every
corner has its share. Then they trample^on it, and
knead it with their feet till it is clean as clean can be ;
74
A RIVER OF THE SAHARA
3!''Wg^'''*?^v?atU"''''''"''
Life on an Oasis
then they stretch and pull it into shape ere they spread
it out to dry in the sun, whilst they enjoy a rest after
their labour. Women and children come also : the
women with bundles on their heads ; the children moving
quickly, mere flashes of colour.
All the paths through the oasis and its seven villages
have charm, though not so much character as those of
El Kantara. Yet any mud dwellings shaded by palms
are sure to be quaint, and here there are little balconies
and curious windows of pierced holes arranged to form
primitive rose windows or triangles, while the decoration
on the minarets is almost elaborate. The palms, casting
their flickering shadows on the warm earth ; the pools,
and the running water that threads a shining way
through all the gardens, and mirrors every leaf in its
calm shallows ; the vivid green of the grass and grow-
ing crops (barley is already in the ear) ; the blossom
lingering on the fruit trees ; the tender colour of the
first young leaves of the fig ; — all combine, with the
mud walls that bound each property, to make of every
moving figure a living picture.
The light falls with bewildering brilliance on the white
garments of the solemn, stately men as they emerge from
the cool, green shade into the golden sunlight. Patri-
archs ride slowly by ; boys in ragged burnouses and
slender, bare legs, pipe to herds of energetic black goats.
Camels and donkeys with nothing visible but their legs,
so large are their burdens of palm branches or fodder,
brush the walls on either side as they pass along. Men
with similar loads, or carrying bunches of greens and
75
Algeria and Tunis
carrots from market, watch groups of tiny children, who
squat in the dust keen on some mysterious game.
Women with unveiled faces and waving draperies of
vivid colour trail them slowly past, accompanied by a
pleasant jingle of silver anklets, chains and charms.
They carry their babies wrapped in their veils, low
down on their backs, in a clever fashion, though
now and then the queer mites, in their big hoods,
looking like gnomes, are perched on their mother's
shoulders.
The palm gardens, of which their owners are
extremely proud, are often entered by the simple method
of pushing a palm log aside and creeping through a hole
in the wall. Wealth here is counted in palms, and every
tree is taxed. To encourage the French colonists only
a tax of five per cent is levied on their produce, while
the Arabs pay double, which the latter naturally think
very hard. Palms exact a great deal of attention. For
them exist all the schemes of irrigation, the artesian
wells, the sakkias, the endless opening and closing of the
channels of the watercourses ; for a palm flourishes
only when it stands with its feet in water and its head in
the fires of heaven. The want of scorching sun is one
reason that dates do not ripen on the coast, though the
trees look healthy enough.
In the time of blossom, human fingers with infinite
care assist the insects in fertilising the female flowers
with pollen shaken from the ivory chalices of the male.
These flowers begin life in a sheath, which opens to
disclose a cascade or spray of slender stalks, thickly
76
A BISKRA WOMAN
y^VVaj J.^J,i/i,|j;
Life on an Oasis
sprinkled with pure carved ivory flowerets, which are
soon followed by the tiny growing dates.
A few vegetables and a little corn is all that grows
under the trees, which often shade picturesque family
groups camping for the day under shelter-huts built of
boughs and thatched with palm leaves. The mother in
all her glory tends the fire, watches the steaming pot of
cous-couss for the mid-day meal, or flits like a gorgeous
butterfly through the green mazes after her straying
babies. Her dress is the most graceful of all the native
costumes in this part of the world. It is nothing but a
long piece of very wide, soft muslin, or printed cotton, of
deep red, rose colour edged with green, or fine dark
blue ; but it is wound round so cleverly that a girdle of
many colours at the hips and a couple of handsome
silver fibulae at the neck are sufficient not only to keep
it on, but to form hanging sleeves and a multiplicity of
charming folds. The head-dress is wonderful. The
hair is plaited and braided with black wool, and arranged
squarely on either side of the small face, black silk
kerchiefs are woven in and out and over this mass,
twined with silver chains, and brightened by touches of
scarlet flowers and wool. Just over the forehead hangs
a large silver charm, the sacred hand of Fathma. The
ear-rings, as large as bracelets, are fastened through the
top of the ear, and are so heavy that they have to be
supported by chains or threads attached to the hair.
Round their necks they wear one or two necklaces of
coral, amber, or gold beads, and tiny silver hands.
They deck themselves also with many bracelets and
77
Algeria and Tunis
anklets. These treasures are part of the wedding
portion, and represent all their worldly wealth. Their
white veils are twisted into the head-dress behind, and
fall in long folds to the ground, but are hardly ever used
to cover the face ; for these Biskris, and the dwellers
in El Kantara, are descendants of the original inhabitants
of the country, the Berbers, They belong to the same
race as the tribes of Kabylia and of the Aures, and their
ways, characters, and language are not those of the
Arabs who invaded their land and drove most of them
back into their mountain strongholds. They are the
cause of many theories and much speculation. Early
writers consider them remnants of Christian Africa,
Romans and Vandals, and say in proof of their theory
that the Kabyles still keep Sunday as their day of prayer,
and that the cross which all the women bear tattooed on
their foreheads between their eyebrows, and many of
the men on their arms, or the palms of their hands, are
relics of the days when crosses were worn as tokens,
and exempted their wearers from some taxes. The
Touaregs also wear the cross and use it for the form of
their saddles. Modern knowledge or scepticism scorns
these ideas as pretty fables, and considers that the cross
in some form enters into all schemes of primitive decora-
tion, and interests itself far more in the fair complexion
of the race, the tendency to light hair and grey or blue
eyes, and above all in the methods of government which
point to some Germanic origin. At any rate the women
in all the Berber tribes have a better position, with far
more consideration and power, than in any place where
78
A NOMAD CAMP
Life on an Oasis
Arab blood prevails. These tribes also distinguish
themselves by their love of a settled home and by being
both clever and hardworking.
Widows we were told have the special privilege of
feeding their sheep wherever they like. The animals
may browse on shrubs and trees, vegetables, corn or
fruit, without let or hindrance from their neighbours.
Consequently a widow's lamb is fat and well-liking
while larger flocks starve, and on market day it will sell
for some six times the usual price.
Nomad or rather semi-nomad tribes abound in the
district, their low tents of striped camel's -hair cloth
showing as dark patches on the desert or under the
trees. They often build a few walls, rough fences and
ovens, and settle almost permanently in one place, till
the grass is worn away in front of their tents. The
fields they cultivate stand high with corn and clover,
to feed the camels tethered near the camp or the herds
of goats that wander in and out at will. These nomads
dress like the other inhabitants of Biskra, but the
women wear more blue and less red, and have not
quite the same air of being always in full dress. The
tents are so low that the men dwarf them utterly, and
even the women, short as they are, must stoop to enter.
This matters little, as the life of the community is
passed in the open. All day long the grinding of the
mill may be heard, as the women take it in turns to
work together sitting in the dust. The cooking of the
cous-couss is done in a vessel hung on a tripod in true
picnic fashion — furniture there is none. A few carpets
79
Algeria and Tunis
and hangings, the necessary pots and pans, and the mill
are all they need, so it is easy enough to strike tents
and march wherever the fancy moves them. A pretty
sight it is to see one of these caravans on the desert
or amongst the dunes, as it comes slowly out of the
distance, giving as it moves along just the touch of life
and colour that was needed by the scene. The sand-
dunes themselves are beautiful with a strange beauty
that harmonises with the wild, free life. The shifting
sands rise and fall in a succession of hills and hollows
covered with yellow, green, and grey scrub, and thousands
of bright yellow flowers, for all the world like the
Lincolnshire sand-hills or Saunton burrows ; only that
here the dunes are immense, and stretch out not to the
sea, for that has gone, but to the mountains of the
Aures, or vanish only in the vast spaces of the Sahara.
On the way to Sidi Okba, where caravans are
frequent, we met a sad little procession — a few men
riding, one or two on foot, leading a camel with the
body of a man swathed and bound like a mummy, and
lying across the saddle. They came slowly, solemnly,
out of the mysterious distance and disappeared into it
again. As a soul passes so passed they.
The shrine of Sidi Okba is well worth seeing. The
drive across the desert alone repays the weariness caused
by jolting and shaking on a stony road. A real road it
is, and not a bad one, considering that it has to pass
over the river-bed and some very rough ground.
However, it is no satisfactory desert, though flat and
desolate enough, for everywhere there is green scrub
80
CARAVAN ON THE SAHARA
Life on an Oasis
sufficient to feed camels and the goats of the nomads.
Here is neither a trackless wild nor a waterless waste,
though the water has the good taste to hide itself under
the ground or in the oases. The goal is visible from
the start as a dim purple line, yet there is no lack of in-
terest on the way, for the Djebel Ahmar-Kreddou and
the surrounding hills assume new forms as mile after
mile is left behind, and the colour comes and goes,
waxes and wanes.
Though it is the religious capital of the Ziban and a
sacred place, the village of Sidi Okba is built, like its
neighbours, of sun-dried mud. But it owns a real
bazaar and a large market-place. The bazaar is wind-
ing and irregular, shaded here and there by coarse
canvas, or matting, stretched on ropes and bars of wood.
Canvas of every shade of brown and ochre hangs
flapping idly in the breeze over the square, cavernous
shops, where, amongst strange, untempting wares, the
owners sit motionless, only their eyes awake and on the
watch. In other shops men work tirelessly at many
trades. Colour exists only in the vividly blue sky, in
the palms, and in a few scarlet handkerchiefs. The
bazaar and the crowds who surge through it harmonise
in tone. The nomads, with wild, dark faces and bare
legs, shout as they bargain, unconscious alike of the
din and turmoil and of their own value from a pictur-
esque standpoint. Here are no Europeans, no odd con-
trasts ; all is true, unspoilt. Men of the desert swarm in
hundreds, but scarcely a woman is to be seen except in
the market-place, where, in anticipation of a wedding to
8i II
Algeria and Tunis
take place at night, rows of them sit near a wall, veiled,
and listening to passionate, triumphant music, whilst
their lords stroll about, or sit in groups as far from them
as possible.
The great warrior Sidi Okba, who, after conquering
Africa from Egypt to Tangiers, was killed in a.d. 682
by the Berbers, near Tehouda, now in ruins, a little to
the north, was buried by his followers in this place.
His tomb-mosque, the most ancient in Algeria, is
quaintly impressive. It is built of short columns,
roughly made and crudely painted, and its chief orna-
ment is a door from Tobna, which is curious both in
carving and in colour. The shrine is plain, and the
Tsabout or sarcophagus is covered by bright silks em-
broidered with texts in Arabic. On one pillar is a
simple inscription, worthy of so great a man, written in
Cufic characters : Hada Kobr Okba ibn Nafe rhaniah
Allah. (" This is the tomb of Okba, son of Nafe.
May God have mercy upon him.")
Round the tomb and in the mosque men are always
praying, and from all the little chambers, nooks, and
corners comes the drone of voices ; for they are full
of scholars old and young, who sit in groups round
their teachers, each with a worn board, on which is
written a portion of the Koran, grasped in his hands.
As they learn, they bend and rock and recite the lesson
in sing-song tones. All Arab schools betray their
whereabouts by this constant hum as of a gigantic hive.
Most of the neighbouring oases attract in different
ways, and there are many favourite points of view, such
82
THE BEGGING MARABOUT
!■ V
I -^'t
>>v*(.t5 i.NeS»«it
Life on an Oasis
as the Col de Sfa, which reveal new aspects of the Sahara
and the Aures.
The Arabs resort to Hammam Salahin, the Bath ot
the Saints, a solitary building, with the usual arcades
and whitewash covering the hot springs, a scene of utter
desolation, volcanic and grim. Even the two small
clear lakes add no touch of beauty to the salt, sul-
phurous waste. But it is amusing to see the women,
who bring great bundles on their heads, and who, after
the ceremonies of the bath, put on clean garments, and
then proceed to wash all sorts of brilliant rugs and
draperies in the hot water as it streams away, making
the wilderness gay by turning it into a drying-ground.
But, after all, the true barbaric fascination of desert
life is shown in the most striking fashion during the
races. The tribes come in from far and near, all in their
gala dress, and the fetes begin, continue, and end with
processions and fantasias.
Strange processions, typically Eastern, a mixture of
splendour and squalor, pass and repass in the streets.
The Bach Agha in the place of honour, and the Ca'i'ds,
glorious in all their bravery of red and white, glittering
with gold embroidery and sparkling with orders and
medals, ride beautiful horses, which step proudly under
heavy trappings of gold. The details are as good as
the effect ; the cloth and silk are of the finest, the high
boots of soft red leather.
The Sheikhs are almost as splendid, and the Spahis
in their white and blue both ride and look well. Each
Caid is surrounded by his chiefs and Spahis bearing the
83
Algeria and Tunis
banners of the tribe, and after these magnificent figures
follows a motley crew, men and horses alike gaunt and
poor-looking. They do their best to look imposing,
with guns and swords and fierce looks, and the horses
are decorated with long, trailing saddle-cloths of
gorgeous, faded silks, which almost sweep the ground,
as they move along. As they pass the centuries fade
away. This seems no pageant of the present day, but
a troop of freebooters starting on a foray in the Middle
Ages.
The first event of the races is the ride or drive in
the early morning through the villages of the oasis,
where every roof is crowded with women and children
gay as a bed of Iceland poppies, past the ruins of old
Biskra, straight along the great desert road, to see the
finish of the long-distance camel race.
The Meharis (riding dromedaries) had started from
Tougourt 140 miles to the south, and were expected to
appear about nine o'clock. Every vehicle and every
camera in Biskra was there, and crowds were already
waiting and watching, all eyes turned to the distant
south, though the shimmering heat made it difficult to
see far. At last in the distance appeared specks that
moved and grew, and in a moment the waiting was
over and the Meharis had come. One after another,
with long, easy strides, they swept past, their riders
still urging them forward with voice and hand. No
appearance of fatigue, no hint of the distance covered
in an incredibly short time, were apparent in the
bearing of either the Spahis or their untiring steeds.
84
THE PALM VILLAGE
..;i^ii<^i i-)<«£';
Life on an Oasis
Fit messengers they are to carry important tidings in
time of need, as the French officers showed by their
keen interest in the race.
The race-course at Biskra is as unusual in its frame
of palms as the sports that take place there. Nothing
could be more picturesque than the Bach Agha's
procession as it winds along under the palms ; nor
more beautiful than the groups into which in half-
military fashion it breaks to watch the races. The
crowds, who in their gala array encircle the course, vie
with the horsemen in decorative effect, whilst the
dancing girls outdo them all in sheer splendour of
texture and tint as they flutter round their tents.
Men of distant tribes in strange garb are also here :
some wearing head-dresses of waving plumes, like huge
busbys ; another, one of the dreaded Touaregs, in dark
robes with dark turban, veiled, like a woman, in black
or intensely dark blue. These are masked men, fierce
and mysterious as the sun they contend with and the
desert they rule.
The races are good and the Arab horses fine, but
the excitement of novelty comes in with the fantasias.
These fantasias are mock fights or powder play ; but
there is a method, a savage fierceness, a fiendish glee in
their performance that gives an uncomfortable thrill,
and a feeling that any trifle might turn play to earnest,
and a knowledge that if it did, the performers would
exult more than ever.
The Mozabites fight on foot. They are small, wiry
men, wearing full gandourahs as short as kilts, with
«5
Algeria and Tunis
curious fringes and tassels of camel's-hair hanging from
their broad belts. They bind their ha'icks loosely, and
arrange them to cover the lower part of their faces, the
usual precaution in their own torrid country far to the
south, beyond Laghouat. A warlike tribe, one of the
last to submit to France, they still cling to their in-
dependence in religious matters, and are called in
consequence Khammes^ or the fifth, because they are
outside the four recognised orders of Mohammedanism.
Industrious and hard-working, they travel far, and are
often shopkeepers in the large towns, but, for all that, to
them gunpowder is everything. Government allows a
certain amount yearly per man, and this can only be
obtained by order. All the same, great quantities are
made in secret all over the country, and the hiding-
places where work is done are rarely discovered, except
when, owing to unscientific methods, an explosion takes
place, killing several men. This is of constant occur-
rence, it is said, but no one minds.
The fantasia begins with shouts, then a rush
forward of eight or ten men, who turn and fire
their guns into the dusty ground a few feet ahead.
Before the smoke has cleared, another squad charges
and fires at the feet of the first party with shouts and
yells, and they toss their guns into the air, the tom-
toms and pipes play martial music, and the din is
deafening. Rush after rush follows, the squads prance
forward, fire, run back, reload and fire again. Excite-
ment grows and grows, the dust, smoke, and noise are
appalling, and the yells become more and more savage
86
A MOZABITE FANTASIA
Life on an Oasis
as the smell ot the powder maddens them. Then it is
that accidents often happen, for the guns are old, all of
them dating at least fifty years back, and many of them
being really antique. Some are quite elegant and are
inlaid with silver, but one man had a queer old weapon,
thick and short, that might have come from the Tower
of London. It took twice as long to load, and needed
an extra charge of powder. Its owner took care to
have the field to himself when he fired, and rejoiced
at the stunning report, loud as a cannon. The officers
said that each man fired off more than his year's
allowance of powder before the entertainment was over.
If this was so, the secret factories had supplied them
with a large reserve, for the excitement was so great
that they went round the town after the procession, at
the close of the day, and gave another fantasia outside
the hotel, and continued firing at intervals far on into
the night.
The fantasia of the Goums is equally exciting and a
far prettier sight. The horses count for so much, even
without considering the dash and go of the riders, the
brilliant white of their robes, the rich colours of the
cloaks and saddle-cloths, the glitter of golden trappings,
and the flash of light on the drawn swords. It is a
ride past. But such a ride ! One after another, the
horsemen come thundering down the course as fast as
their light steeds can gallop. They fly by, all their
draperies streaming in the wind, fire their guns, and
wave their swords, right and left hands or reins are
matter of no moment. Some take deliberate aim at
87
Algeria and Tunis
the man in front, and ride as if to ride him down or die
in the attempt ; others fire at the crowd, and some make
believe their enemies are at their feet.
Desert warfare is very real at such a moment, and it
requires no imagination to picture what it would be.
There is a concentration, a fierce determination in the
mimic fight, which tells its own tale, and suggests a foe,
hard to conquer or subdue because so absolutely fearless.
After this the camel races are tame, the movements
of the picked Mehari who raced from Tougourt are
too slow and stately in comparison with the tearing
gallop of the horses. Even the fact that one of them
is ridden by a Touareg in full array fails to make its
due impression, so much is every one under the spell of
speed and noise. The stealthy, quiet tread of the great
beasts, even their picturesque qualities, had less effect
than usual ; they were finer on the desert, infinite space
and light and mystery behind them.
Other sports, amusing to watch, were held under the
shade of the mimosa in the gardens. The incongruity
between the dignified appearance and lithe grace of
the competitors and their childlike glee in each other's
performances, made even walking along a greasy pole a
delightful comedy. Hearty laughter is not one of the
lost arts amongst the Arabs.
At night there are more processions, with Chinese
lanterns and torches, crackers, weird music and dances,
and the whole place is alive and gay, whilst noise reigns
triumphant.
The dancing is not limited to the Ouled Nails, or
88
STREET OF THE DANCING GIRLS, BISKRA
:is^%
Life on an Oasis
dancing girls ; the men have a fine sword-dance that
looks like a serious duel. The music is stormy,
martial, passionate. The musicians shout, the women
scream to incite them to further fury. Their own war
cries are deafening. The correct finish is for one to be
conquered and disarmed, whereupon he shakes hands
with the victor ; but it sometimes happens that the
excitement goes a little too far, and a bad cut brings
the play to an abrupt and more dramatic termination.
89
12
TIMGAD
91
CHAPTER VI
TIMGAD
" Leaving Biskra is like dying — a thing we must all get
through somehow," an American lady wailed, partly
because she "just hated going," but still more because
of her fate at being condemned to get up at the un-
earthly hour of 5 A.M. to catch the first train.
This used to be the only train in the day, but now
matters have so far progressed that on three days in the
week a new one has been added as far as Batna, which
saves much tribulation on the part of those who wish to
see Timgad and cannot bear beginning their day with
the sun. Dawn, however, is as beautiful as sunset, so
that it is perhaps as well even for the lazy to be obliged
to see it sometimes.
The four or five hours on the backward journey
seem long. The keenness of excitement is wanting ;
there are only the glimpse of El Kantara, and some
smiling greetings as the train passes through, to help
pass the time. In the afternoon it soon gets dark, and
the train goes crawling on slowly as if groping its way.
It is not possible to get up much enthusiasm until
93
Algeria and Tunis
Batna is reached, for that is only a halting-place from
which the start will be made next day to the ruins of
the City of Timgad. Batna itself is nothing more than
a clean little town with wide streets and low houses, an
important military centre, with a large garrison and
barracks, which are perhaps the most striking buildings
in the place. There is no quartier indigene ; little or
nothing to amuse or interest.
In consequence perhaps of this it is quite usual to
arrive by the early train, lunch at the station, then drive
straight out — a matter of three hours, " do " the ruins
with a rush, and return in the dark. But there is too
much to see and study for this to be satisfactory, except
for those who do not really care for antiquities at all.
It is certainly better to put up at Timgad for a night or
two, and make the best of the inn, which, though rough,
is new and perfectly clean, and that is more than can be
said for the more pretentious one at Batna.
It has always been our lot to arrive at Batna during
a spell of cold weather, of the sort that is a positive
surprise to those who expect continual warmth in the
far South. The cold is so great that it is almost a
penance to drive at all, and this even as late as the end
of March.
As the start has to be made fairly early, about eight
o'clock, it is rather chilly work. However, the situation
is thoroughly understood and prepared for. Foot-
warmers, so scalding that they are a comfort for the
three hours, and any amount of rugs are provided.
Every one looks as if starting for a sleigh drive, mere
94
Timgad
bundles as they are of cloaks and furs, their faces
covered with shawls, in a fashion which partakes of
both the African and the Arctic.
This is our experience, whilst others, both before and
after, felt the heat to an equally intense degree, for there
is no shelter, when once the town is left behind, from
either cold winds or broiling sun. Nothing is to be
seen on either side but the wide, undulating plains,
cultivated more or less at first, but later on growing
wilder and wilder.
Our last visit was after a heavy snowfall, the country-
side flooded with sunshine, sky and cloud, mountain and
plain, dazzlingly and intolerably bright. The snow,
though only a couple of inches deep on the road, was
twice that number of feet in the drifts ; the sheep and
the Arab shepherds looking thoroughly out of place as
well as miserable, their woollen garments and fleeces
forming a brown and dingy contrast to the pure white-
ness. As a snow landscape the scene was charming, the
mountains of the Aures gaining much in dignity from
their white robes. As a rule it must be owned that the
drive is a trifle monotonous, notwithstanding the space
and width and the sense of air and freedom. At first
the soldiers exercising their horses, and the groups of
Arabs coming in to town to do their marketing, provide
some interest. Then Lambessa becomes visible, the
Prastorium rising like a castle from amongst the trees.
The modern village consists of barracks and a few
houses and cafes, but the ruins of the ancient Lambaesis
are scattered far and wide. Formerly, it seems to have
95
Algeria and Tunis
been a military station, the headquarters of the third
Augustan Legion. Perhaps this is the reason that the
ruins have not much artistic value, with the exception
of the pecuHar massive structure called the Prastorium,
which stands square and upright, in solitary dignity,
amongst ruins and fallen columns on the bare paved
square that was once the Forum.
Glimpses of walls and triumphal arches show among
the olives and fruit trees of the farms, as the long, curving
road sweeps up the hill out of the valley and on to the
wold. The heat of the sun melts the snow so rapidly
that the rich dark browns of the soil begin to make a
restful contrast with the prevailing whiteness. For
miles and miles the horses trot quietly on, passing only
one or two houses and a few Bedawin tents on the way,
then suddenly in the distance, set among the hills, under
a great range of snow peaks, are seen two houses, some
ruined pillars, and an arch. Timgad at last !
Desolation itself : not a tree, hardly a touch of green,
where once all was forest ; nothing but the inn, plain and
uninteresting as a house from a child's Noah's Ark ! the
group of buildings and shanties which form the Museum,
and a dwelling for the Direcleur who superintends the
excavations.
The ancient city of Tamugadi, or Thamagas, called
also Thanutada by Ptolemy, was finely situated on rising
ground with a wide outlook over the now barren wold,
whose browns and reds, blending with the soft blues
and purples of the hills, make a beautiful background
to the pale gleaming of the slender pillars still left
96
THE ARCH OF TRAJAN, TIMGAD
'^
Timgad
upright. The town was never very large, but was
important and much mentioned in history. There
are inscriptions in the Forum which tell of the 30th
Legion Ulpia, and of the victories of Trajan over the
Parthians.
The foundation stone was laid by Lucius Munatius
Gallus in the reign of Trajan a.d. 100. The building
was rapidly carried out according to a definite pre-
arranged plan, and shows plainly that the Romans
would not tolerate any temporary buildings or poor
craftsmen even in their most distant colonies, but that
they required both solid workmanship and a certain
measure of magnificence in all that they undertook.
The city was built thirty-six years after the great fire in
Rome in the days of Nero. The consequences of that
fire, and of the new ideas for avoiding future conflagra-
tions mentioned by Tacitus, were here carried into
effect by building all the more considerable houses in
a detached form with a clear space all round them.
This is one of the remarkable differences between
Timgad and its rival Pompeii. Its later history is full
of sad tales of religious disputes and much fighting in
the fourth century. The head of the Donatists, Bishop
Optatus, who persecuted the orthodox with great
cruelty, joined Count Gildon (under whose sway Africa
trembled for ten years) in his revolt against the Emperor
Honorius. They were both overthrown, the Bishop
was taken prisoner, and suffered in his turn, ending his
days in prison. St. Augustine often alludes to Count
Gildon and his terrible doings.
97 13
Algeria and Tunis
In A.D. 535 the city was already in ruins, but later
on the citadel was restored, and at the time of the Arab
invasion was evidently in Christian hands, for the ruins
of a church built in a.d. 646 still remain. The end of
the city came with the close of the seventh century,
when it must have been taken by force, sacked, and
burned, as so many of the buildings and even the soil
show traces of fire.
However, the attraction of Timgad does not lie so
much in its history as in the beauty of the ruins that
remain, and in the interest of comparing with Pompeii
another and larger city — a city more important and as
perfectly preserved, and now, thanks to the excavations,
spread open like a book.
Not that the excavations are at all complete even
now, for nearly two-thirds of the city are still untouched,
though the work was begun as long ago as 1880, and
the French Government allows a considerable sum,
^1500 to _^2000, yearly for the purpose. Under the
circumstances it is strange that these, the finest ruins in
Algeria, should have been almost unknown until quite
recently. The older travellers, Bruce and Shaw, wrote
much on the subject, and the former left some splendid
drawings of the ruins. Most modern writers, however,
up to 1890, content themselves with a visit to the com-
paratively unimportant Lambessa, and ignore Timgad
altogether.
The French even had so little notion of its existence,
that an old French General told us that when he was
quartered at Batna some thirty years ago no one had
98
Timgad
ever heard of the ruins, and that he himself had noticed
nothing in his rides, though he had scoured the country
for miles round. His interest and excitement now
showed that this was not the result of indifference to
things antique, but simply want of knowledge. The
odd part of the whole affair is that the triumphal arch
must always have been a conspicuous object, and not
easily overlooked like the half-buried columns which
scarcely rise above the ground on the unexcavated
portions of the hillside.
The pride of the place is that it is not a " lath and
plaster " city of pleasure, like Pompeii, but a solid,
business-like town, built of stone and marble, where
nothing inferior to good brick-work has been found.
On the other hand, the colonists of North Africa could
not be expected to rival the luxurious citizens of
Pompeii in their collection of gems and works of art,
exquisite bronzes and sculpture, and delicate frescoes.
The fate of the two cities was so different, that even
supposing Timgad to have possessed as rich a store of
treasures, it was not possible for many to remain in the
ruins after much fighting and looting.
Consequently the statues found are not of the
highest order, and the Museum does not contain many
wonders. In mosaics alone it is rich : a great many
have been found in perfect preservation and very fine.
They consist not only of geometric patterns, but of
large and important subject-pieces with colossal figures,
and each year more and finer mosaics are added to the
collection. When found, they are carefully taken up
99
Algeria and Tunis
and placed under shelter In the Museum buildings to
save them from the spoiler.
The main entrance is through a gate in a rough
paling, but this fence is only a farce, put there to guide
tourists to the Museum, as it does not extend round the
ruins, which are quite unprotected on the further side.
Opposite the Museum stand the ruins of a basilica,
and a few steps farther up the well-paved street are
the graceful columns of the so-called Salle de reunion^
where, amongst many Roman capitals lying on the
ground, is one of Byzantine origin.
This street ascends to the Forum, where it is crossed
by another, the main thoroughfare, the via Decumanus
Maximus, leading to the Arch of Trajan and the
market. Evidently the traffic here was far heavier than
in other parts of the city, as the ruts in the pavement
are so deeply worn. There are no stepping-stones as
at Pompeii, but the paving of all the streets is still in
such good condition that carriages can be driven through
them all.
The water-supply and the many fountains, as well
as the whole system of drainage, are very elaborate and
carefully planned. The sewers are indeed so large that
it is possible to walk through them, and in many cases
without even bending the head.
The spacious and stately Forum seems to have been
surrounded by a colonnade double towards the via
Decumanus Maximus, with a temple at one end. Many
of the pillars are still standing, and others have been
replaced on their ancient bases. The long distance
100
THE FORUM, TIMGAD
J^.
Timgad
between the columns, especially on the east and south
sides, show clearly that the architraves that surmounted
them were of wood. The Forum was paved with great
flagstones, but a large portion is now missing. Well-
preserved and perfect inscriptions are set up round the
Forum in front of the pillars.
The theatre was a fine one, capable of holding in its
seats, porticoes, and galleries some 4000 spectators.
It is in good preservation, but not peculiar in any way.
One of the best views is from the hill just above the
Auditorium. The city unfolds itself, disclosing all the
intricacies of its former life — the wide open space of the
Forum, the great temples and baths, the fine arch, some
handsome houses, the narrow streets, and the small
dwellings huddled together in the poor quarters. As
at Pompeii, there is the curious effect of a town with
the upper portion sliced off by a giant's hand ; but here
it is not so marked, for many of the buildings have
escaped more or less — some even are untouched, and
the pillars are often erect and complete, several having
been replaced during the excavations.
Timgad has some unusual features. In a house
between the Forum and the theatre is an elegant atrium
with ten columns, having a central fountain or well
surrounded at some little distance by semicircular flower-
boxes of marble, charming in design, and said to be
unique. The market, again, is quite unusual, and has
been described as an *' archaeological revelation," no such
ancient municipal mart being known in Africa. It lies
beyond the Arch of Trajan, and the entrance was
lOI
Algeria and Tunis
through a low portal, the Chalcidicum. The market
was of a fair size, and, like the Forum, well paved — a
sort of colonnade running all round, with square cells
between the columns. These cells or stalls had counters
formed by thick slabs of stone. To enter the shop the
owner had to stoop under the counter — an arrangement
that is copied in most Oriental bazaars to this day.
The place is so perfect that it does not require much
thought to see how well arranged and picturesque this
old-world market-place must once have been. And to
assist in the process, dishes, vases, amphorae, and even
balances have been found on the spot. Flour-mills of
an unwonted form are found in many houses. There
are numerous wine shops but more fountains, one of
particular grace having been lately dug out in a new
district beyond the market.
The baths are remarkable for their splendour and
the perfection of the arrangements for heating. They
were decorated with fine mosaics in geometric patterns,
and also between the columns of the gallery with
designs of figures and animals. A good many of these
mosaics are still left in their places, but are carefully
covered over with a thin layer of soil to prevent theft
or damage. On great occasions, such as the visit of the
President, this is swept away, but ordinary mortals have
to content themselves with glimpses of small portions
of the pavement that the foreman scrapes clear with his
foot. There were formerly several baths, and at one
time as many as seven Christian basilicas.
Of the temples the most imposing was, and is, even
102
MARKET DAY, TIMGAD
Timgad
in its ruins, that of Jupiter Capitolinus. It stands on
a hill, the highest point in the city. Two columns with
Corinthian capitals arc still standing, but, to judge by
the immense quantity of debris of marbles of all colours
found in the cella^ it must have been truly magnificent.
The marble is supposed to have been brought from
Mahouna, near Guelma.
The triumphal arch, or Arch of Trajan, the finest
in Africa, is almost perfect, though slightly restored.
However, much cannot have been done, because there
is scarcely any difference between its condition now and
when drawn by Bruce. The arch has three openings,
and both sides are alike. It is built of warm golden
sandstone, and the beautiful fluted Corinthian columns
are of a stone so fine and white that it looks like
marble. The capitals, bases, and pilasters are of the
same stone. Over the two side gateways are niches
for statues, only one of which is left. The whole is
simple in design and beautifijl in form and colour,
whilst from its position it becomes the key-note of all
views of the city.
In these days of her desolation and abandonment,
Timgad is only inhabited by the two or three French-
men who superintend the Arabs in the work of excava-
tion, and by the family of the innkeeper, who have not
too much to do in feeding the travellers who appear
now and then in the middle of the day for a few hours.
So it is odd to awake one morning to find the whole
place alive with crowds of men, their mules and horses ;
the ground in front of the inn and up to the Museum
103
Algeria and Tunis
gates covered with small tents, and all the clamour and
bustle of a busy fair. The whole scene is changed as
by enchantment, and a new, vivid, noisy life intrudes
in dreams of bygone days. These Arabs, or rather
Berbers, come from far — from homes high up in the
distant hills or far out on the plains ; these hills and
plains which look so inhospitable and wild, but in some
parts are really beautiful and both green and fertile.
There are amongst them wild men — rough, uncivilised,
and very dirty, but there are also Sheikhs and Caids
who would look well anywhere. This weekly market
is to them a great institution and a delightful change,
but Timgad seems to look twice as solitary as before
when the crowds have melted away and the last white
robe has disappeared.
104
CONSTANTINE
105 14
CHAPTER VII
CONSTANTINE
Travellers' tales and descriptions of Constantine are
full of such boundless admiration that they are really
little more than a chorus of applause and wonder. The
consequences are not quite what might be expected,
because it is impossible to believe that all this praise is
justified. Sober truth seems hidden by flights of fancy.
So the sceptical mind prepares itself and fears no dis-
appointment or disillusion, heedless of the fact that it is
the unexpected that always happens. In this case such
wisdom is wasted, for the situation of Constantine is
amazing beyond all expectation, and wholly beautiful.
In former times the city was apparently as pictur-
esque as its site, but this, alas ! can no longer be said.
The rage for modern improvements has destroyed so
much, that it is only in nooks and corners that Oriental
architecture still lingers.
The original city of Cirta or Kirta, the capital of the
Numidian kings, has entirely disappeared, and no traces
are now left of the splendid palace of Syphax, or of the
fine buildings that Micipsa is said to have built here.
107
Algeria and Tunis
Even the old name, signifying an isolated rock, has been
superseded by the later one of Constantine — a name that
even the poetic attempts at new derivations made by
the Arabs, such as Ksar-Tina, the castle of Queen Tina,
the castle of the fig tree, and so on, have failed to make
interesting.
Their own name for the city, as given by El Bekri,
namely, Belad el Haoua^ sums up its individuality
perfectly. The single word Haoua means not only air,
but also ravine and passion. The city of air tells of its
height, over 2000 feet above the level of the sea. City
c>f the ravine is a title that suits it even better, for no
other city stands on a rock encircled on three sides by
a chasm instead of a moat ; and history, starting with
the tragic tale of fair Sophonisba and her pathetic
speech (ere she drank the cup of poison sent her by
Masinissa) about " dying with more honour had she
not wedded at her funeral," shows that passion has
never been lacking.
Roman rule has left a deeper impress, but soon there
will be little of the flourishing colony of Cirta Sittian-
orum, founded by Julius Caesar. There are many
inscriptions, among them one proving that Sallust, who
was once the Governor, possessed a vast domain.
Of a fine aqueduct, built in the reign of Justinian,
only five arches remain, prettily situated among the
trees by the river. As for the ruins of the old bridge,
dating from the time of Constantine the Great, it would
probably be hard to say how much was truly Roman,
so often has it been restored. This bridge was double,
108
GORGE OF THE ROUMEL, CONSTANTINE
V-
\^
■•%
Constantine
and built on the foundation of a natural arch ; the upper
part, formed of huge blocks, carried the road, the lower
was purely ornamental. Shaw says it was indeed a
masterpiece of its kind, which makes its end the sadder.
A pier of the upper story gave way in 1857, and
as restoration was supposed to be impossible, heavy
artillery was used to batter it down. Now the chasm
is spanned by a useful but ugly iron erection, built
exactly above the ruins, and forming a pitiful contrast
between the old style and the new.
Few cities in the world have suffered so many
changes, for notwithstanding its apparently impregnable
position, Constantine has been besieged and taken no
less than eighty times — that is, if tradition can be trusted.
It escaped destruction under the Vandals because the
bishop in those days was a Donatist. The victorious
Belisarius found that no harm had been done, and even
the Arabs spared the ancient monuments, so that the
strain of these many sieges seems to have worked less
havoc than the fighting which took place during the
French conquest, when both besiegers and besieged
showed the greatest heroism. The old bridge was the
scene of the first fierce assault, when the French were
driven back in 1836. The successful attack in the
following year was made on the side of the isthmus, or
neck of land, which connects the rock with the mainland,
but even so the French lost heavily. General Damremont
and General Perregaux being killed in the breach, and
officer after officer falling as he took command.
For many years afterwards the military government
109
Algeria and Tunis
took no interest in preserving antiquities, and so they
were broken up, cut through and destroyed, to make
way for new buildings, for roads, and for the railway.
The greatest loss, perhaps, was the splendid triumphal
arch, which was still perfect in 1734 ; but temples,
arcades, vaults, porticoes and baths were all swept away
by the Genie militaire in its thirst for improvement.
The cisterns alone remain. They have been restored,
and still serve to hold the water-supply.
The new roads are worthy of the Genie^ but the new
buildings are mostly blots on a beautiful landscape.
From almost every point hideous, bare-looking barracks
and many-storied modern houses crown the rock, and
stand on the very edge of the precipice, whilst the new
suburbs, springing up on the heights of Mansoura and
on the side of Koudiat-Aty are scarcely more attractive.
And yet, taking all these drawbacks into considera-
tion, the view from the bridge of El Kantara is astonish-
ing. The grandeur of the gorge dwarfs all man's
works into insignificance, and the rocks tower with such
majesty over the river which they hide at their feet that
the houses above them pass almost unnoticed.
The ravine is narrow, not more than two hundred
feet across, though the summit of the crags is quite a
thousand feet above the river. The river Roumel
comes from the sunny country-side, from the woods
and fields, the poplars and the hedges, and plunges
suddenly into the shadow of the huge vertical cliffs,
twisting and winding in the dark depths on its way
round the city, losing itself at times in gloomy caverns
no
Constantine
and under natural arches, to emerge joyously beneath
the grim Sidi Rached, then to fling itself thundering
over the falls, out of the shadows at last, and into the
lovely valley once more.
From the town it is difficult to peer into the depths,
but on the other side a road follows the course of the
ravine for its whole length. The most picturesque
point is just opposite the tanneries, a delightful jumble
of old Moorish houses, with white or pale-blue walls,
and brown-tiled roofs built to withstand the snow and
torrential rains, and very like the roofs of Constantinople
in form and colour. The tanneries are perched on the
walls of rock so close to the edge of the precipice that
the Arabs when at work often fall over into the abyss,
though it is said that the devotees of hachish will
descend the same precipices, at the risk of breaking their
necks many times ere they reach the bottom, just to
meet together and smoke. It is giddy work to stand
on these heights and look down over the first green
slopes where hungry cows and goats find some foothold
in their search for food, in places on the verge of the
cliff where there is nothing but their own agility to
prevent their falling straight into the gulf below. The
boys on guard keep more wisely to the little footpath,
and shout their commands to the straying herds.
The Cornice road runs from the bridge down towards
the valley and the sea, and that is grand with Nature's
dignity alone. As a mountain road it is fine also, after
the Swiss fashion, built round and tunnelled through
the rocks of Mansoura, following their curves, half-
III
Algeria and Tunis
built out on supports, half-blasted out of the living
rock.
Opposite the tanneries the road runs on the top of
the cliffs, and the city stands on the same level on the
other side of the chasm ; but here the road, though it is
still a considerable height above the river, is itself shut in
by walls of rock, so grim and forbidding that if tales of
dreadful deeds did not already abound, legends must
have been invented in their stead ; for there is some-
thing about the precipices of Sidi Rached which suggest
and invite horrors. So perhaps it is no wonder that the
Moors in barbarous times thought it a suitable place for
getting rid of criminals, or of the wives of whom they
were weary. It is, however, hard to believe that men
were ever cruel enough, not only to fling a beautiful
woman over a cliff by the Bey's orders, but also, when
she had been saved as by a miracle by her clothes catch-
ing midway on the rocks, to rescue her and then kill her
deliberately by some other form of torture.
At the French conquest the defenders retired, fight-
ing, to the Casbah, and there as a last resource tried to
fly from the hated infidel by means of ropes. But the
numbers were too great, the ropes broke, and hundreds
perished in the attempt, though it is thought that a few
may have escaped.
The Chemin des touristes is a path through the ravine,
winding up and down, and cut out of the rock, or built
upon it. It is a path full of surprises and fascination,
formed for a great part of staircases, and in most places
a strong railing is necessary. Near the bridge are seem-
112
A GAME OF DRAUGHTS
Ci^''''^l^i?TTL^
Constantine
ingly endless steps, and little bridges descend in uncanny
gloom into a huge cavern, where the path becomes a
balcony of wood over the river. Giddy steps, slippery
with damp, lead through the cave, a true orrido^ and
then come wonderful effects of light and shade. The
light falls from above through four natural arches whose
height is over four hundred feet. From the bottom of"
the gulf the sky seems far away, the city hides itself,
whilst the rocks appear more imposing than ever.
Artists might spend their days here, for subjects are
endless, but they must be impervious to chills, and have
no sense of smell or any fear of typhoid. Even in
winter to walk through the gorge and wonder at its
beauty is a penance for the nose, for it receives the
drainage of the tanneries and the town ; but in late
spring or summer, when it would be a cool retreat, the
inhabitants say that the air is even more deadly.
Within the walls a superficial observer sees nothing
but steep and dirty French streets, and it is easy to walk
all over the town without ever finding the Arab quarters.
This does not mean that the whole place is not crowded
with indigenes — far from it, for it is a busy centre, in
which the province of Constantine does its shopping.
No town in Algeria is so laborious and active, the chief
trade being in shoes, saddlery, and burnouses. Town
Moors are in the minority, the streets being mostly
thronged by white-robed countrymen, of a rather dirty
type. The Arab women wear dismal grey ha'icks, and
the young girls and Jewesses, who are strikingly hand-
some, wear a coquettish cap, a cone of coloured velvet
113 IS
Algeria and Tunis
embroidered in gold. Sometimes it is covered by a
cunningly tied kerchief, but is often set like a flower on
the wearer's dark locks, very much on one side of the
head. Arab chains of round, flat links, very large and
heavy, are used by the rich to keep on this cap, and big
ear-rings are also worn. The rest of the dress is usually
commonplace, though on Saturdays gay shawls and
gorgeous gowns of velvet and plush are popular.
What is left of the Arab town concealed behind the
modern houses is something like old Algiers. The
streets are even narrower and often as steep, but instead
of the cedar beams, the upper stories are built out on
inverted steps till they almost touch each other. Pillars
and capitals from Roman buildings fill corners, form
gateways, and have been used to build the mosques,
which are neither very important nor interesting. Up
a few steps on a small vine-covered terrace is the tomb
of a famous saint from Morocco, built partly of frag-
ments of Roman work. But the individual buildings
are nothing. It is the life, the bustle and confusion in the
streets, the tiled roofs, the pale-blue colour on the walls,
the odd-looking shops, the scarlet and blue hanging up
in the streets of the dyers, the glitter of the silver as
men crouch over their tiny fires making rough jewels,
the more delicate tones and rhythmic movements of those
who weave silks or belts, or twist soft yellow floss round
enormous winders — small details these, like fine threads
weaving one magic spell — the spell of the East.
Unconsciously this hovers over everything, giving
distinction to the Cathedral, once a mosque with the
114
Constantine
poetic title of Market of the Gazelles, by the old tiles and
the fine carving of the mimbar^ or pulpit. Even the
Palace of the last Bey, really so new, built so quickly by
the simple method of pulling down other houses to
provide beautiful carving and richly coloured tiles, and
by stealing columns and capitals from temples, gains its
originality in the same way — the singularly naive paint-
ings of battles and ships that decorate the walls helping
to give the last touch of apparent age and orientalism to
the many courts filled with orange and lemon trees.
Late in the spring Constantine should be delightful,
but, owing to its elevated situation in a mountainous
district, it is often too cold in the early part of the year
for those who come from the warmth and glow of the
desert. It is wintry, though the sun is bright and the
air clear, so that sketching in the chill shade of the
streets is out of the question. It is scarcely warm
enough even to enjoy drives, beautiful as is the country-
side and the views from the heights over hill and valley.
There are woods and charming dells, with here and
there a Roman ruin as an object for a walk, such as the
aqueduct or the baths of Sidi Me^id. This bracing
mountain air makes the climate splendid for the
colonists, for the extremes of heat and cold are much
the same as in their own beloved France, and to cheer
them on their way the Romans have left inscriptions
showing that many centenarians flourished here, and
though the women only managed to live a hundred
years, one man, ^lius by name, reached the age of one
hundred and five. Could anyone want more ?
115
ON THE WAY TO TUNIS
117
CHAPTER VIII
ON THE WAY TO TUNIS
The next stage on the long journey to Tunis is
Hammam Meskoutine, or the Accursed Baths. Now
the name alone ought to be sufficient to scare strangers
away, but it seems to have precisely the opposite effect.
Many, indeed, come for one night only, and linger on
from day to day, loth to leave a place so unusual and
attractive. The wayside station, half-hidden by grace-
ful eucalyptus trees, leads to no village, for the simple
reason that there is none — nothing but the baths, a farm
or two, and a few scattered gourbis.
There is not much to see. There are no fatiguing
sights, no amusements whatever — only a tranquil country,
a freshness of untrodden paths, a touch of the unknown
and exceptional in the hot springs and falls to give
piquancy to the surroundings. It is a country of soft
outlines, Greek in its simplicity, breathing rest and
peace. A land of hill and dale, rich pastures and many
trees, where glare, dust, and bustle are alike forgotten.
The uplands are covered by a cloud of grey-green
olives, some of them age-old trees, whose gnarled and
119
Algeria and Tunis
twisted trunks look silvery against the deeper tones of
the leaves, the bright green of the long grass, and the
purple and blue of the mountains beyond. Under the
trees the flowers of the asphodel shine starlike, calm
fills the air, the flocks come and go, and the slender
figure of the white-clad shepherd who leads and watches
them, piping on his queer rustic flute, is in harmony
with the spirit of a half-unconscious dream of the days
of long ago.
Cutting across the smiling landscape like a scar is a
plateau of whitish grey rock, pools of boiling water and
clouds of steam, the region of the springs. The water
comes bubbling up through the grey crust, then flows
out over the surface with no fuss, no fountain, no spray.
Dense clouds of steam rise from these bubbling springs
in all directions, and also from the water as it falls over
the rocks down to the valley below. This water as it
cools leaves a thick white coating on whatever it touches,
thus raising in the course of ages a succession of terraces
now some two hundred feet high, resembling on a smaller
scale the once famous pink terraces in New Zealand.
These terraces are of every tone of yellow, orange,
russet and green, and are full of small cauldrons. Pour-
ing over these natural basins and mingling with these
many tints flows a steady stream, sometimes the rich
colour of thick cream, sometimes the snowy whiteness
of foam, but though airy in appearance, perfectly solid,
absolutely still. Only the water moves softly and the
steam rises ceaselessly — a wonder straight from the
under-world, a silent waterfall.
120
THE SILENT WATERFALL, HAMMAM MESKOUTINE
On the Way to Tunis
And not silent alone, but carved in stone — a finished
work in one sense, yet ever changing ; for the springs
are capricious, appearing now in one place, now in
another, and just now a new stream has started some
little preparations for terraces on its own account at the
side of the railway, and has even arranged to cross it.
The earth's crust seems unpleasantly thin and crumbly,
and the heat is so great that it is well to be heedful and
walk warily, for water at a heat of 203^ Fahrenheit is
too warm for comfort, even when it has cooled itself
somewhat on the rocks. The only other springs known
to be hotter than these are the springs of Las Trincheras
in South America and the Geysers of Iceland, but they
are only 3° and 5° warmer respectively.
It is amusing to watch the amount of cooking done
in the open — eggs and vegetables are put into a bubbling
pool, and anything else the chef thinks a good scalding
will improve. Hot water for baths is fetched in a
garden tank on wheels, and if any is wanted at odd
times a jug can always be dipped in a stream, for the
hotel is quite close to the falls. The old baths — some of
them Roman of course, for what did not the Romans
know } — are still in use, for these are the most celebrated
springs in Algeria ; though Hammam R'hira, beautifully
situated in the mountains not far from Algiers, runs
them very close. The hotel is built on no conventional
plan ; it is a series of low buildings set in the olive grove
with a wild garden in their midst. An Eastern garden
with a central fountain, surrounded by lemon and orange
trees, laden with golden fruit, shading fragments of
121 16
Algeria and Tunis
Roman reliefs, capitals, and columns — an unwonted form
of museum and a pretty one. Pretty also are the rooms
in the long bungalow, with windows looking out on one
side on the flowery meadow under the olive trees, where
the steam from the falls can be seen in the distance.
Seen and smelt also, be it said, for there is much sulphur
in the water. The other window, which is also the
door, opens on to a rough colonnade and the garden.
Two more bungalows, and a house that shelters the
kitchen and its excellent chef^ as well as the dining-room
and dull salon, complete the establishment. On warm
days the pleasant custom prevails of taking meals at
small tables under the deep shade of an immense syca-
more— a real open-air life, fresh and delightful — in fine
weather. We were not there in rain.
In a little hollow near the springs is a group of
curious cones, petrified like the falls, and now half-
covered by grass and shrubs. Exhausted and now
quite dry, the water having long since found new ways
to escape, these cones are scattered over the ground
for some distance. One special group, distinguished
both by its size and by the peculiar shapes of the pillars
of stone, has such terrors for the Arabs that they dare
not pass it at night, from their firm belief in the legend
which gave the place its name of the Accursed Baths.
For once there was a sheikh, a rich and powerful man,
who had one only sister, beautiful as a flower. He
loved her with an exceeding great love, and thought
her so supremely fair that no man could be found
worthy of her. He therefore determined to wed her
122
THE ARAB WEDDING, HAMMAM MESKOUTINE
On the Way to Tunis
himself. The elders of the tribe arose and made loud
protestations, for as an Arab told me in his odd French,
" // est ires defendu dans le Koran de marier avec sa
sceur^ But the sheikh paid no heed to their exhorta-
tions or their prayers, and caused those elders to be
beheaded before his tent door. Then he made a great
feast, but as the end of the marriage festivities drew
near, a great darkness overtook them, a tremendous
earthquake shook the earth, out of which came flames
of fire, and demons were seen abroad. Deafening
thunderclaps followed, and a storm raged mightily.
In that moment the accursed couple met their fate.
Ever since that dreadful night the whole wedding party
has stood there turned into stone : the Sheikh Ali and
his bride, Ourida ; the Cadi who married them, and who
is known by his turban ; the father and mother who
gave reluctant consent ; all their friends and servants ;
the musicians, the camel laden with bridal gifts, the
distant tents, even the cous-couss left over from the
feast. The wrath of God had fallen upon them because
they did not obey the laws of His prophet, and for
evermore the smoke of the fire ascends — a witness to all
men of the punishment that awaits the evil-doer.
The subterranean lake is an excuse for a lovely walk
over the hills. This lake only came into existence
about twenty years ago after a great storm. The earth
fell in with a tremendous crash, disclosing the entrance
to a cavern. From some hidden source water came
rushing in for about six weeks, and then suddenly
ceased. The cavern is dark as night, even in the after-
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Algeria and Tunis
noon when the sun shines on the opening ; the entrance
is steep, and very shppery ; the lake lies far below, the
dark vault looking like the gate of the under-world.
Arab women bring piles of brushwood, and with bare
feet descend easily to make a flare at the water's edge.
The light is weird and unearthly, the moving figures
suggest witches, the water glimmers dimly, reflecting
the flames as they leap up, and accentuating the gloom
and vastness as they die down again.
One of the women was beautiful, her colouring was
of the North, and the moon of her fair face was sur-
mounted by a crescent moon of white linen. At least
this veil, stretched over a frame or cap, should have been
white, but was, in fact, sadly dirty ; the gourl?i they lived
in was even worse. It was built of stone, roughly
thatched, and surrounded by a wall to form a sheep-pen.
The ground within and without was trodden into
mud. Many of the animals shared the hut with the
family, who seemed to have scarcely any possessions,
and who, had it not been for their beauty, would have
seemed lower in the scale of life than their own flocks.
The joyous rush of a motor car on a good road is
no bad antidote to overmuch strolling in flowery meads
or lounging under trees. Ancient ruins and motors
sound incongruous, but, after all, surely the Romans
would have revelled in the sport, and the fear of
demons would scarcely have terrified them as it would
the men of the Middle Ages, or the Arabs of the present
day, whose ways made the drive to Tibilis amusing.
The road twists and curves round the hills far above
124
On the Way to Tunis
the clear stream, and as the motor with much hooting
rounded the endless corners, Arabs rushed up steep
banks out of reach of the monster, pulled their animals
into shelter by main force, or covered their horses'
heads with their own burnouses. These were those
who knew and understood. Those who did not, paid
no heed to the coming of the " Turnobil," and the
chauffeur had to creep slowly and carefully past them.
Others again climbed to points of vantage and shouted,
and those shouts were not blessings on our progress,
whilst a few naughty boys indulged in throwing stones
which did no damage.
The ruins of Tibllis, now Announa (found by
General Creuly in 1856), are finely situated on a hill,
so the last part of the journey must be done on foot.
The path, when it exists, is only to be avoided, so stony
is it and rough, and also swampy in places. The
distance is nothing, but the way seems long from its
steepness and the scorching sun. It runs first downhill
to a brook which it crosses by a bridge of slippery
planks, then up a steep brae, and along a valley, when
the toil is ended by a final scramble to the top. Here
on a bare brown hill are a few weather-beaten trees,
leafless and desolate, and all that remains of the ancient
city — a stretch of paved road, a simple triumphal arch,
one of the town gates, two or three arches, a Christian
basilica, a few fallen columns, and traces of many build-
ings, including an amphitheatre.
A last gleam of sunshine touched the arch to beauty,
then storm-clouds gathered on the neighbouring heights,
125
Algeria and Tunis
a bitter wind blew fiercely, the weather by its gloom
emphasised the long-forgotten loneliness of the place,
once sufficiently important to give its name of Aquas
Tibilitanae to the waters of Hammam Meskoutine, and
now neglected, visited only by a few out of the many
drawn to the baths by the quaintness of the scenery and
the legends of the place.
Forsaken ruins such as these are to be found all over
Algeria, but more often the sites are now occupied by
modern colonists, and the ruins sacrificed to or incor-
porated with new buildings. A few, however, are still
preserved to attract travellers, as at Tebessa, Tipaza,
and Cherchell. In Tunisia ruins abound, and are even
more remarkable for their extent and beauty. But it
is a thousand pities that in both countries nothing is
done to remove difficulties, so that expeditions are
given up in despair from absolute lack of information
and fear of discomfort. It seems a point of honour to
know nothing off the beaten track, and as even on it
the standard of comfort is not high, and requires some
experience and a little tolerance, much of the country
cannot be visited by ladies at all without a camp — a rare
luxury. Even men, accustomed to really roughing it,
suffer more than they care for from bad food in the
French villages, and from noise and dirt in the native
Fonduks. 4
One of these out of the way places is Dougga, where
the Roman ruins are so beautiful that no one should
count the cost in fatigue and trouble too great for a
visit.
126
On the Way to Tunis
About two hours short of Tunis is the station of
Medjez el Bab, the gate of the ford. In olden days a
triumphal arch and a fine bridge across the Bagrada
(Medjerda) justified the name. Both have now vanished,
and the new bridge, built of the debris, is absolutely
picturesque with age. One of the chief roads of
Roman Africa passed over the original bridge, uniting
Carthage with Theveste and continuing to the borders
of Numidia. Military boundary stones all along the
route still bear this testimony — Karthagine ad Thevestem
. . . usque ad fines Numidce.
The walled town nestles on the river banks almost
under the shade of a wide avenue, much appreciated in
the burning sunshine of May.
In obedience to orders a carriage and pair awaited
our arrival in the station-yard. This sounds imposing,
but its appearance was utterly wanting in dignity save
that conferred by the dust of ages. The vehicle was a
rattling old shandrydan of a waggonette, roofed after the
fashion of the country, and with leather curtains, which
could be buttoned together closely to keep off the sun
or rain ; and, strange as it may seem, the darkness and
shadow of this box were after a time a relief from the
glare. Heat shimmered over the plain — blue, with a
flickering haze. The white ribbon of the road looped
carelessly round the olive groves, or stretched boldly
across undulating fields, already golden and ready for
harvest. The men amongst the corn, the very horses
on the road, were steeped in lazy drowsiness. They
worked, but it was as in a dream — just a pretence suited
127
Algeria and Tunis
to the placid prosperity wliich brooded over all. Now
and then, as the hours passed by, towns and villages
came into view crowning the heights, all fortress-like,
many with towers, picturesque in outline and dirty
within.
One of these, surrounded by ruins, bears the name
of Chehoud el Batal, or the false-witness ; for once, so
runs a legend, men, women, and children united in
bringing lying evidence against a man great and holy,
much beloved of Allah, so in the very act they were all
turned to stone, and the stones remain where they fell
for a witness to this day.
At mid-day we halted at Testour, once Colonia
Bisica Lucana, though little is left to tell the tale.
Really it is a bit out of Spain, an Andalusian hill city,
with minarets that recall the old belfries of that
country. The inhabitants are still called Andaleuss^
and are said to be direct descendants of those Moors
who escaped from Spain in the time of Ferdinand and
Isabella.
Donkeys, laden with huge water-pots, led us up the
steep hill, into the town, towards an open space, or
plaza^ with arcaded cafes blinking in the sunshine.
Low one-storied houses with tiled roofs are built on
either side of a street which is both wide and straight
— a most unusual plan in a Moorish town, and very
unsuitable for great heat.
Every scrap of shade was occupied by listless Arabs,
who just roused themselves sufficiently to take part
in the slight bustle of our arrival, followed by the
128
On the Way to Tunis
diligence, and then crept back to doze once more.
There is no inn, but the postmaster's wife provides
food in her cool, clean rooms for dusty, wayworn
travellers. Her patient face, sad with the loneliness of
exile, lighted up with pleasure at the chance of a chat
with some of her own sex who knew la belle France.
Only three or four European families live at Testour,
and she and her husband are the only French inhabi-
tants. Many men pass through on business, but ladies
are comparatively rare. In the summer, traffic almost
ceases, for the heat is so trying, and, notwithstanding
the breezy situation, the thermometer occasionally rises
to 112° Fahrenheit. There was a note of plaintive en-
durance in all the talk of the hostess, an attempt to
make the best of things, a certain pride in the knowledge
of Arabic and of triumph over housekeeping difficulties,
mixed with a thorough dislike for the country, and
contempt for the indigene and all his ways. Yet the
country is beautiful, almost homelike, and could be made
very rich.
A little further on is Ain-Tunga, or Thignica, a
small village now, whose importance in the past is
shown by the ruins scattered round a few poor houses.
The Byzantine fort still preserves an air of solid strength,
but only fragments enough remain to excite a languid
interest in the two temples, the theatre, and a triumphal
arch.
As the shadows lengthened, the country became
more and more charming, for we were nearing the
borders of Khroumirie, the most beautiful part of
129 17
Algeria and Tunis
Tunisia. Clear streams and glades of olive trees
became more frequent, and peeps of distant mountains
gave variety to the hills and dales of a pastoral land.
Wonderful legends of lions are told of all this
district. As many as sixteen are said to have been seen
together at one time in one valley, through which we
now drove so carelessly. The scenery is too peaceful
to suggest the thought of wild beasts, and it is easier to
believe in lions amongst the rocks of El Kantara, or
the mountains of the Atlas and the Aures, than in this
sylvan spot.
Teboursouk, the goal of the day's journey, appeared
at last on the brow of the hill, its walls and minarets
rising from a silvery sea of olives, the witchery of the
sinking sun increasing the effect of height and distance,
and throwing a veil of light over the few modern
houses on the outskirts.
Notwithstanding the noise and clatter caused by our
arrival, the inn, with its imposing name of Hotel
International, seemed fast asleep ; but at last the shouts
of the travellers by diligence produced an Arab servant.
Happy-go-lucky is the only way to describe the place.
The Italians who kept it were fettered by no ordinary
ideas of the proprieties. Dogs and babies, food, empty
plates, pans and brushes, decorated the staircase and
upper hall ; pretty girls trotted about in an artless
neglige of chemise and petticoat, with their hair down
and their feet bare, until the second dejeuner^ when they
appeared in flowery cotton wrappers, with their hair
elaborately dressed. It was not till dinner-time that
130
On the Way to Tunis
they donned a full toilette, and enjoyed little flirtations
with the officers. They made a cheerful din, with loud
shouting and much laughter, but the Arab servant did
all the work, smiling and willing as usual. The rooms
were fair, and the food, considering all things, quite
tolerable, though when hot water was asked for, it
made its appearance in a small, rather dirty, saucepan.
Another of the peculiarities of Teboursouk was that it
contained no carriages, so that we were bound either to
retain our rattling, boneshaking conveyance at a fee of
twenty francs a day, or else pay the penalty by making
the return journey in the diligence, a still sorrier
vehicle, always crowded to suffocation with colonists
and Arabs with their bundles, who, not content with
over-filling the seats, perched themselves on the top of
the baggage on the roof.
Though Teboursouk looks its best from a distance,
it is still an attractive country town, with few pretensions
and almost unspoilt. Two mosques, one with many
domes, and both with good square minarets, stand in
its narrow, winding streets. There are only a few tiny
shops — hardly enough to call a bazaar, but the whole
effect is picturesque. The children are particularly
pretty and charming, playing games gaily in every
nook and corner. Small girls dance about with still
smaller children, riding in a sort of pick-a-back fashion,
with legs round the bearer's waist instead of their
shoulders. The colour adds to the effect ; in no other
village have we seen such perfect shades, or such variety
of red, yellow, and orange. Many of the boys were in
Algeria and Tunis
pale blue, and the women were as gay as the children.
A dancing negro, a terrible monster in a mask, dressed
in a shirt and kilt of skins, with animals' tails and foxes'
brushes, and charms dangling from his girdle, drew all
the small folk after him like the Pied Piper, as he
danced, sang, and played his odd home-made guitar on
his way through the town. His head-dress was a
marvel in itself — a sort of fool's cap of red and gold
embroidery, set with coins and shells, and with another
fine brush hanging down like a feather.
Columns and fragments of the Roman city Thibur-
sicum Bure are built into the walls, and near the old
fountain is an inscription recording its name. In the
walls are also to be seen the remains of a triumphal
arch. There is a Byzantine fort formed for the most
part of ruins. Several bishops of this See are mentioned
by Saint Augustine, and it is also known as the place ot
martyrdom of a Christian called Felix, in the reign of
Diocletian.
Early morning saw us once more on the road, or
rather the rough cart-track, to Dougga. The air was
deliciously fresh and pure, and laden with the fragrance
of the wild flowers that covered the sward. The
horses did not like their work, and jibbed at the
constant hills. Progress, therefore, was slow, as they
only behaved properly on the down grades. A few
Arab boys, who had invited themselves to places on the
box and roof, jumped down and pushed and shouted
lustily, but the last hill was too steep, so we climbed
it on foot. However, the driver insisted on the poor
132
TEMPLE OF CELESTIS, DOUGGA
tliHARY
;.' r\-
On the Way to Tunis
horses going to their orthodox stopping-place half-way
up, and rewarded them by fetching us in the evening
with a team of three, harnessed abreast.
A primitive Arab village covers part of the site of
the ancient Thugga. This is the simplest form of the
name, but an inscription near the temple gives the
following elaborate title, much too ponderous for daily
use : " Respublica Coloniae Liciniae Septimias Aurelias,
Alexandrinae Thuggensium." The name was probably
derived from the Berber, and means green grass. The
city stands on a green hill, olive groves surround the
ruins, and the valley of the Oued Khaled, a tributary
of the Medjerda, is rich with green also.
Undoubtedly the most beautiful of all the ruins here
is the great temple of Celestis, sometimes called the
Capitol, which stands on the top of the hill, commanding
a wide outlook, a really exquisite view of wood, valley,
and mountains. The fine lines and proportions of this
building, the situation, and even the warm, mellow tones
of the stone, bring memories of Athens.
Time and weather have worn away the stone and
added tender greys to the colouring, but have not
greatly injured the grace of the fluted columns, the
delicate work on the Corinthian capitals, or the rich-
ness of the mouldings. The sculpture on the pediment,
however, has suffered much, giving the opportunity for
many discussions as to whether it represents a lion, the
rape of Ganymede, or the eagle of Jupiter. Wings
are certainly visible, but the rest is a blur. The fine
door of the cella is still perfect, and consists of three
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Algeria and Tunis
huge stones bearing an inscription ; there is another on
the portico, which states that the temple was built by
two brothers at their own expense : —
L. MARCVS • SIMPLEX • ET • L • MAR
CIVS • SIMPLEX • REGILLIANVS • S. P. F.
It was dedicated to Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva.
At the present time workmen are busy rebuilding
the walls of the cella — a work which seems a sad waste
of time and energy. The existing masonry, of a later
date than the rest of the temple, possibly Byzantine, is
of a style much used in North Africa, consisting of
courses of stone laid horizontally, with upright bars of
stone at intervals of about four feet, the square inter-
stices filled with odds and ends of stone, like " the long
and short bond " found in Roman and Saxon work in
Britain. Bruce thought this " one of the most beautiful
ruins of a temple in white marble in the world."
Playfair considers it as built of nothing less than
Lumachella Antica, one of the lost Numidian marbles,
now worth its weight in gold.
The theatre is also a gem, and though there is now
no performance, it is still a joy to sit in the deep, cool
shade on the almost perfect marble seats, and look
across the stage and the broken columns to the sunny
landscape beyond. It is finer in every way than the
theatre at Timgad, and almost as large as the well-
known theatre of Taormina.
At the entrance to the olive groves stands a
triumphal arch of the decadent period, called Bab el
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On the Way to Tunis
Roumi, or Gate of the Christian. There are also the
remains of the temple of Saturn, baths, an aqueduct,
seven cisterns like those at Carthage, a circus, a fortress,
monuments, and many other ruins too numerous to
mention. Last, and perhaps most important of all,
because it dates from the Phoenician times, is the great
Mausoleum, wrecked by the Arabs employed by Sir
Thomas Reade to remove the celebrated bilingual stone
now in the British Museum.
Though the men and boys spent the day in a circle
round us to watch and to criticise, thoroughly absorbed
in the sketch, yet they had charming manners, digni-
fied and smiling faces, and not even the smallest boy
dared to be troublesome — a great contrast to many
in Algeria, who have picked up the bad ways of the
modern town-urchins. The same may be said of
Teboursouk.
At Medjez el Bab another display of fine courtesy
was found in a most unlikely quarter. The hotel was
said to be quite impossibly dirty, so we were advised
to dine and wait for the late train to Tunis at a
cabaret near the station. The place was a shanty,
full of men drinking and smoking, colons and railway
employes. Every one took our appearance as a matter
of course, bowed politely, and did their utmost to make
us feel at home, the smokers retiring outside. Dinner
was served for us at a table apart, quite nicely laid and
cooked. There was good soup, chicken, wine and
dessert, all for a ridiculously small sum. After dinner
some of the men wished to talk, asked many questions
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Algeria and Tunis
about home and foreign affairs, and discussed the latest
news of the war in the East, The wistful little woman
who did the cooking could hardly make enough of us,
and when the train arrived at last, no one would say
good-bye, but only " Come again."
136
TUNIS
137
18
CHAPTER IX
TUNIS
Through darkness broken by hardly a gleam of light,
and silence stirred by no sound but the throbbing of an
overworked engine, in much weariness and at night,
Tunis is reached at last with a suddenness which almost
startles the traveller. The hours that passed so quickly
in the morning, grow in length with the day, and after
sundown every minute counts, and the hours in the
dimly lighted carriages seem interminable ; for travel
in this part of North Africa is tedious and uncomfort-
able to a degree only known in Spain and perhaps
sometimes in Italy.
Consequently the first impression of Tunis as
one enters it by train is neither artistic nor Oriental,
but rather a mingling of bustle and glare with much
noise, followed by a rattling drive over paved streets,
and the comforting assurance of rest. The arrival by
sea has much the same disadvantages, for the steamer
has a way of getting in after nightfall, so that the
new-comer drives from the quay, along brightly lighted
streets, side by side with an electric tram. This may
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Algeria and Tunis
be a blessing in disguise, as the darkness hides the
sordid details, and makes it possible, with some luck
in the choice of a room, to find that a glance out of
window next morning reveals the old Moorish city
in the first blush of the morning light.
Tunis is still the " white city " — still also, in more
senses than one, the " odoriferous bride " of the Arab
writers. The other name of El Hadhera, the green,
hardly seems so suitable from this point, for at an early
hour the whiteness is more noticeable. The sunlight
falls on the houses at an angle that suggests pre-
arrangement, a scheme without a shadow. This gives
a look of unreality, a curious lack of substance. If the
actual lines were finer the effect would be that of a fairy
city built of pure light, but as it is now, a later moment
is more beautiful, when the shadows creep across the
white walls and give value to the graceful forms of the
minarets.
All this pearly whiteness is full of colour, though in
the ordinary sense of the word there is little or none.
What there is, however, is green, as becomes a Moslem
stronghold. Far below, as it seems looking down from
the roof, lies a garden full of orange trees and one
feathery palm. This hardly comes into the picture,
but a few other trees do, and one or two lonely palms,
and the colour of the foliage is repeated in the
wondrous green of some of the domes. The minarets
and two or three of the mosques have pointed roofs
of green tiles, and green also predominates in the
tiles used for decoration ; so that even in the heart
140
TUNIS
Tunis
of the city there is more than a mere suggestion of
green.
The walls and roofs rise terrace-like one above the
other to the Casbah, which, as usual, is built on the
highest point — blank walls mostly, with few windows
(often mere holes), though occasionally a balcony with a
tiled roof, shading a carved window-frame inlaid with
bright tiles, gives a hint of taste or wealth. All these
straight lines and plain surfaces are redeemed from
monotony by the curves of domes and the height and
variety of form shown in the minarets. The small
fluted domes of the great mosque are dazzlingly white ;
the minaret is square, with delicate Moorish tracery in
a yellowish stone ; the upper story of marble is set
with coloured tiles, and with an open gallery of horse-
shoe arches.
The minarets of Sidi Ben Ziad and Sidi Ben Arous
are slender, octagonal towers of the same warm-hued
stone, surmounted by turrets with jutting balconies
quaintly roofed with green tiles, from which the muezzin
sings the call to prayer. Much older, but not so
imposing, is the square minaret of the mosque of the
Casbah, said to date from a.d. 1232. Such is Tunis,
a compact mass of white buildings, with no open
spaces and no streets visible.
So old, and yet with such a continuous history, that
although founded before either Utica or Carthage, it is
still known by its original name. This name of Tunis
is in Punic characters Tanais, and is identical with the
name of the Persian Venus. Probably the city was
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Algeria and Tunis
called after her, as other towns in Tunisia bore the
names of deities. In those days Astarte, or Ashtaroth,
combined the attributes and duties of Venus, Minerva,
Juno, and Ceres, and was not only the goddess of beauty,
the mother of love and queen of joy, but also the
protectress of chastity, of war and of arms, and the
patroness of corn and of husbandry. Such a divinity
might well be invoked to take charge of a city, and in
this case she evidently succeeded.
The city shared in the prosperity and also the evil
days of Carthage and Utica, and, as a Roman province,
endured all the changes in the life of Rome down to the
fall of the Empire in Rome and Constantinople.
When the Vandals were cast out of Europe in a.d.
430, they devastated the north coast of Africa till they
in their turn were driven by the Greeks beyond the
mountains of the Atlas. Next, the Arab invaders swept
over the land like a torrent, and in a.d. 644-648 took
possession of Tunisia, which was thenceforward governed
by Emirs appointed by the Khalifs.
The later history of Tunis, like that of Algiers, tells
of a period of calm and culture, followed, after the
expulsion of the Moors from Spain under the Christian
kings, by a long chronicle of fighting and piracy ; for
thus these fugitive Moors vented their rage and
avenged their wrongs on all seafaring people, merely
because they were Christians. Slavery was carried on
to the same terrible extent, for in 1535 no fewer than
20,000 Christian slaves escaped from the Casbah to
open the city gates to Charles V,
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Tunis
Amongst other noted captives St. Vincent de Paul
spent two years here in slavery, and in consequence
devoted his after life to helping prisoners and galley
slaves. An old house still exists with a fine courtyard,
called even now the house of the Christian, which is said
to have been built by a slave, who was killed by his
owner as soon as the work was complete. The mosque
of Sidi Mahrez, with its many domes, is supposed to have
been the design of a French architect captured by the
Corsairs.
A great part of the old walls and many of the gates
still remain, and though modern buildings are closing
round and gradually replacing the Moorish dwellings in
the outlying quarters of Bab Djazira and Bab Souika,
yet, within the magic circle, Oriental style, manners, and
customs hold their own.
This is one of the many ways in which the French
have gained experience in Algeria and profited by it in
Tunisia. The old cities are left intact, instead of being
destroyed to make way for new boulevards, and the
French quarter, its public buildings, theatre, shops and
restaurants, grow up outside the walls. The two races
dwell apart, but both flourish together. Street names,
lighting, and cleaning have been introduced, and the
old town itself is incredibly clean for an Eastern city —
cleaner by far than many cities of France and Italy.
Though trams encircle the city and run through the
suburbs, all proposals to disfigure the central quarter,
the Medina, have met with a stern refusal. To walk
through its gates is to step into another world — a
^4-3
Algeria and Tunis
world as full of surprises and romance as it is of
variety.
The old water-gate, the Porte de France, a simple
horse-shoe arch, opens into a great hive. There, in a
little open space, a swarming crowd, busy and noisy as
bees, pushes towards the narrow streets which mount to
the bazaars. At first East and West mingle. Then,
step by step, the half-French, half- Levantine element
gives place to the realEast. ^'Bara Balek'" ("Take care")
is the continual cry ; and one must be watchful, or pay
the penalty. It is true that wheeled traffic almost ceases,
for the few carts generally only succeed in blocking the
way, and must take hours to reach their destination.
But strings of tiny donkeys, hardly larger than dogs, do
all the work, helped occasionally by camels, which shove
through the throng regardless of consequences. Then
there are the porters. At first it is startling to see
wardrobes, beds, or huge cases walking apparently on
their own feet ; but after a time the oddest loads are taken
as a matter of course, a part of the universal strangeness
of things. Yet it is wonderful to see these men in their
characteristic dress, with bare arms and legs, and scarlet
kerchief by way of turban, coolly walk off with a heavy
weight that would take two men to lift at home. If it
is so easy to bear a burden on the back by means of a
rope passed round the forehead, why has not this simple
method been adopted in the West .? Thus, slowly, and
in stately fashion, with all due regard for each other's
dignity, the crowd presses onwards to the heart of the
city, the great Souks.
144
SOUK DES ETOFFES, TUNIS
O'
Tunis
There are no such Souks in all the near East. In
Constantinople the men have discarded their turbans and
flowing robes, and the vaulted halls though fine in form
are cold and poor in colour. The bazaars of Cairo are
quaintly informal, but lack architectural style, though
the people are picturesque enough. In Damascus the
buildings are modern, and look outside like railway
stations with arched roofs, though within is seen the true
and perfect life of the East, so unspoiled that the passing
stranger feels his European clothes a positive eyesore,
and knows that it is barely possible that the picture
will be marred for him by any other intruder. Here
the long vaulted halls, lighted only by rays of sunshine
falling through square holes in the roof, are as fine as
in Constantinople, and, in addition, are full of life and
colour. The crowd is even more picturesque than in
Damascus, — though here, alas ! it is twice as difficult
to dodge European figures, — whilst Cairo itself cannot
show more quaint corners.
Each of the trades has its own Souk, and each Souk
its peculiar character. Some only contain goods for
sale, but most of them are workshops as well — a far
more interesting arrangement. Bewildering, yet en-
chanting— a pageant of pure colour, where dusky twilight
holds its restful sway, harmonising the tints, veiling the
forms, filling the dark recesses with mystery.
Hour after hour, day after day, may be spent thread-
ing the mazes, watching and trying to decipher the open
book that seems so full of ideas, some half-remembered,
others wholly new, but all subtle and elusive, so different
145 19
Algeria and Tunis
to our usual life. Bible stories mix themselves hope-
lessly with the Arabian Nights, and the whirl of thought
is as rapid as the change of colour.
The first day it seems impossible to think of finding
one's way alone through this intricate network, but
gradually the main lines become clear, and then it is
easy enough to wander in and out at will, with the
certainty that confusion, or even total loss of bearings,
means nothing worse than another turn or two, and
then the sight of some well-known landmark.
Such a landmark is the Souk des Etoffes, very
formal, absolutely straight, but decidedly the most
distinguished of all. A low archway of horse-shoe form
opens into a hall with three aisles, of which the centre
forms the actual street, and the two others the side
walks. Short and sturdy pillars, roughly but effectively
painted in pure scarlet and green, support the arched
roof. Rows of square cells on either side, dark yet
glowing with colour, are packed with piles of silk and
embroideries of every tone and texture, overflowing the
narrow space within. They are hung on the walls and
from the pillars in well-arranged disorder. Persian
and Kairouan carpets deck the walls with rich, soft hues,
old brass lamps from the mosques, of fine damascene
work, stand side by side with inlaid furniture, odd-
shaped mother-of-pearl caskets, weapons, and other
treasures, all placed by a master hand so as to tempt
customers to the utmost. In each tiny shop the owner
sits dreaming over a cigarette, or entertains a friend or
possible purchaser with coffee. In one corner, bright
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Tunis
with coloured tiles, a man whose whole equipment
appears to consist of a charcoal stove, a pan of water, a
wee coffee - pot, and some microscopic cups, does a
thriving trade, and trots up and down the Souk con-
tinually to supply this pressing need ; for without
coffee nothing could be settled, nor any business done.
Watchful touts with keen eyes lie in wait for the
unwary, whom they inveigle into the shops, whilst in a
high-handed fashion they order about the real owner,
who meekly obeys their orders. They pretend to
bargain, but really raise the prices, which are preposter-
ous even for the East, and of course pocket a large
percentage themselves. However, they are very quick,
and never forget a face, so that it is only the casual
visitor who suffers. After a day or two one is free of
the bazaar, and begins to have many kindly acquaint-
ances. Bargaining is the game of the place, and a most
amusing game it is to play. It demands infinite
patience, much diplomacy, some instinct for fun, and,
above all, either a real or a well-feigned indifference.
The shopkeeper, impassive and smiling, has no hesita-
tion in announcing that he will be ruined and his throat
cut if he sells at such low prices. He is sure that any-
one so exceedingly tall must be also extremely rich, or
he tells you that your face speaks of riches. This was
said to a very thin woman. But if the would-be
customer answers in the same strain, the prices will
descend by leaps and bounds, and on the conclusion of
the bargain the ruined man implores his victims to
come again to-morrow : " For, see, I have given it to
HI
Algeria and Tunis
you because I like you ; you are my friend." In out-
of-the-way shops a few words of Arabic are a great
help, as the owner often says, " Makansch Francees^''
which means, " No French here." The language is a
dialect, and few of the familiar Egyptian phrases are of
any use. Even to be able to count in Arabic is some-
thing, as the officious person who usually appears to
translate invariably doubles the price. But though the
Arabs often talk excellent French it is a terrible draw-
back neither to understand nor to talk Arabic easily.
The Arabs declare that under the old regime
business in the Souks was better regulated, and every
trade had its own Sheikh, who ruled it with a rod of
iron. He fixed the prices, and woe to the man who
charged less or more, for when convicted the rod
descended, and he was beaten then and there. The
value of fruit, meat, and vegetables, etc., was announced
by a crier at night, and next day each shop was bound
to obey the order. This sounds somewhat tyrannical,
but they liked it.
The Souk el Attarin, or scent bazaar, is the aristo-
cratic quarter, and the owners of these square cupboards,
with huge painted shutters, are, it is said, nobles, the
descendants of the Corsair chiefs, and often very rich ;
but, as good Moslems, they do not care to meet in
each other's houses, for that would upset their harems.
Clubs do not exist, but in the bazaars all the news is to
be heard and social life is to be found. So they spend
their days sitting calm and imperturbable each in his
niche, to which they mount with the assistance of a
148
SOUK EL ATTARIN, TUNIS
Tunis
cord suspended from the ceiling. Enormous candles,
gilded and fantastically coloured, hang like a curtain
round them. In the mysterious recesses are jars and
bottles, containing the priceless attar of roses, essence of
jasmine, geranium, or amber, and countless other sweet
scents. The whole bazaar is full of perfume, making
it a pleasant place to tarry in. On the ground are
baskets and sacks filled with dried leaves, or piled with
green powder, both preparations of henna. Outside
each shop stands a chair or two, on which grave elders
rest and talk. Younger men stroll about, true types of
Moors, their handsome, smooth faces equally calm.
They are great dandies, and wear robes of soft cloth
and silk of most delicate tints. On festivals they place
a flower coquettishly between their turbans and their
ears, which gives a curious touch of the feminine to
their appearance. Some also carry a rose or carnation
in their hands " to live up to " in true aesthetic style.
No one bothers about business : they are too dignified
for that. Only once did anyone ask us to buy, and
when we said " another day," we were adopted as
friends, to be greeted placidly and talked to occasion-
ally, and we found ourselves remembered and on the
same footing another year.
The Souk el Blagdia, or the shoe bazaar, is quite
different. The street is narrow, there are no gay
pillars, the roof is of wood, the shops are a trifle
larger, and hold one or two men who are ceaselessly at
work. They make the soft yellow and red slippers
which the Arabs wear, and keep on so easily, though
149
Algeria and Tunis
they are such a failure when Europeans try them.
Here life is earnest enough, and so it is in the bazaar of
the tailors, where the shops are larger, and divided one
from another by the usual green and red columns. In
each shop eight or ten men and boys, many of them
Jews, in the distinctive dark blue turban, squat on the
floor, sewing busily. They stitch, embroider, and
decorate most elaborate outfits, cloaks of every colour
in and out of the rainbow, and of the most perfect
shades. You can see them at work upon gandourahs
of deep red silk, embroidered in green, and tiny jackets
for boys, of pale yellow, orange, and red, whilst the
finished garments hang as draperies behind their heads,
and the sun peeps through the rough splintered boards
of the roof and sends shafts of light that flicker and
change as they touch the moving crowds. The jewellers
dwell in a narrow passage, and hardly display their goods
at all ; some silver jewels, mostly hands of Fathma, and
a pair of scales, being perhaps all that is shown, but
a big safe gives promise of hidden treasures. Near by is
the old slave-market, a picturesque hall, dark and lonely,
with the usual gay pillars and but few quiet shops.
The Souk des Femmes, like many others, is a white
tunnel lined with shops. It is very crowded in the
early morning, and is almost the only place where many
women are seen together. Some sit on the ground and
sell their own handiwork, others are busy bargaining
for veils and embroideries. All are of the poorer class
and heavily veiled, if two strips of black crepon covering
the face like a mould, with half an inch gap between
150
SOUK EL TROUK, TUNIS
Tunis
them for the eyes, can be called a veil. It is quite
hideous, and, as the rest of the dress is white, makes
them look like negresses.
One bazaar is full of terrible compounds of dates
and figs, dried fruit and grain. Another small street
is given up to the sieve-makers, who weave their webs
at looms which look like strange musical instruments.
In many places baskets and mats are made. Silk
weaving and the making of belts and scarves are other
flourishing industries, and to stand and watch the long,
slim fingers moving quickly at the old-world looms is
a sight that one never tires of watching. Hands and
feet come into play together at the turners and the
cabinet-makers in a long street of many arches. Deft
fingers and delicate handling are seen also at the copper-
workers. In fact, at every turn there is something
strange or beautiful, and at the least entirely different
to anything we do or see at home. The harness-
makers rival the tailors in the brilliance of their goods.
Gorgeous saddles there are, with red and gold and silver
decorations, marvellous saddle-bags also, gay with stripes
and tassels. They sell huge hats, at least a yard in
diameter, with narrow crowns a foot high, ornamented
with quaintly-cut leather and bright balls of wool.
They make cushions and odd - shaped pouches and
money-bags, and leather amulets to carry the charms
without which no one can live, and round mirrors for
the women. Their bazaar is also noted for the tomb
of a Marabout, a gaudily painted sarcophagus which
almost blocks up the narrow gangway.
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Algeria and Tunis
After this the Souk where the lawyers sit waiting
for business, and now and then writing a few letters
which earnest men dictate to them, seems tame, and the
libraries are quiet too ; but another turn lands you
amongst truly magnificent boxes painted and inlaid.
So the show goes on, at once grave and gay, from
year's end to year's end, always the same, as it has
always been, and so may it long continue.
All the more important Souks have thick roofs, and
consequently keep cool in the hottest weather, so that
even when the thermometer stands at ioo° in the shade,
the bazaars seem quite fresh, almost chilly at first, as one
steps into the dark out of the sunshine.
Some of the small bazaars, however, in the poorer
quarters are only protected by shutters, blinds, awnings,
rags, or anything that will keep the sun away. How
strange this sounds to us ! Such a street is the Souk el
Belat, a name which is said to mean " a paved street " —
hardly a distinctive title in a town where all the streets
are paved. The shops are queer little places, some full
of strange, unknown commodities, and others full of
food of various sorts, which the owners have to protect
by flicking it with fans or whisks, as the flies are so
troublesome. The beauty of this street lies in its
windows, which are screened with ornamental wrought
ironwork.
Another constant amusement is to watch the in-
formal sales by auction. Men walk up and down laden
with various goods and chattels, embroideries, or
lengths of silk, shouting a price as they move along.
152
SOUK EL BELAT, TUNIS
Tunis
The bystanders occasionally make a bid, or nod, and in
time a bargain is made. Furniture and carpets are sold
in an open space at the end of the Souk of the tailors,
just under the windows of the Bey's Palace. The
auctioneer usually sits on the object, if it is big enough,
and the bidding goes on in leisurely fashion, but with a
deafening noise, for hours together. It is a grand place
for seeing life, for crowds always collect, especially on
the days when the Bey comes to Tunis, and they stand
and watch him as he sits in a gilt chair near a window,
resting after his morning's work. He has a decided
advantage over his subjects, as they cannot see him
properly, whereas he has a series of peeping-holes in all
his principal rooms, and can see and hear all that goes on
in the Souk, without any one guessing at his presence.
A gem of a mosque, that of Sidi Ben Ziad, stands in
this street, catching the sunlight on the characteristic
black and white marble facade, on the splendid green
tiles of the roof, and on the most beautiful minaret in
Tunis. When the call to prayer is heard at mid-day
echoing from the gallery, the listening crowd of Arabs
set their watches and disappear, some to prayers, others
to dinner, and the noise and bustle is succeeded by the
silent emptiness of a buried city.
In all Tunisia, except at Kairouan, it is a forbidden
pleasure to visit the interior of the mosques. Even
furtive peeps are guarded against, by large green screens
in all the open doorways. This is especially disappoint-
ing at the great feasts, though the scene in the bazaars
ought to be compensation enough.
153 20
Algeria and Tunis
On the 26th of May, the birthday of the Prophet,
the Bey goes in state to the great Mosque, a pilgrimage
that he only makes twice in the year. It is situated in
the heart of the Souks : doors open into the court from
every side — one with a flight of steps, a terrace and
colonnade ; another, in the Rue des Libraires, with a
beautiful porch and green-tiled roof; the rest with no
architectural interest. It is called Djama el Zitouna,
the Mosque of the Olives, and many of its pillars are
spoils from Carthage,
In honour of the occasion, or of the Bey, the Souks
are decked with carpets and wonderful embroideries ;
every space on the walls is covered till the whole is
aglow with colour. The way to the mosque is packed
with the Faithful in gala dress — men and boys alike in
exquisite tints ; for the Tunisians have an innate sense
of colour, and blend and combine hues that would be
unthinkable elsewhere, although the result in their hands
is charming. The Arabs say that it is the sunshine that
makes the harmony, and that that is the reason why imi-
tations of Moorish decoration look so garish under our
cold grey skies. On such a day the flowers behind the
ear add a touch of perfection to the radiance on every
face. Each shop in the street of the tailors looks like
a collector's cabinet of idols, for the master sits cross-
legged in the centre, motionless as an image of Buddha,
with his men round him. When the Bey has passed,
the shops are closed and the festivities commence. As
night falls the illuminations begin. All the minarets
are outlined in light, and the square in front of the
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Tunis
Palace is a fairyland of cherry-coloured Chinese lanterns.
It is almost impossible to move, and the gendarmes are
already closing the entrances to the Souks, but way is
promptly made for such important people as ourselves,
and we walk down the familiar street with our proud
guide and find it all new and strange.
The details are extraordinary, a true picture of the
East, where horrors in the shape of European novelties
are set side by side with treasures of Oriental art.
Here no sort of contrivance for giving light has been
despised. Queer old lanterns and sconces alternate
with common lamps, flambeaux, old lustres, and glitter-
ing glass chandeliers. It is all incongruous — absolutely
wrong from a properly artistic point of view, but
that does not matter in the least. Light and an air of
festivity are what is wanted, and, let purists say what
they will, the efi^ect, though amusing, is as delightful as
it is unusual, making the colour of the gay crowd if
possible more entrancing than in the morning. From
the dignified shelter of one of the biggest shops we sit
and watch the moving throng, and prepare to receive
the Bey. Presently the procession appears, and adds a
last touch of incongruity by its want of order. Soldiers
and guards in a travesty of European uniforms lead the
way. Some look like old watchmen, as they stoop and
carry lanterns dating from the days of Dogberry. The
Bey is also in uniform, with stars and orders, and jewels
in his fez, and is followed by his chief officers. Even
for this occasion they abjure native dress, and so the
very least of all his subjects appears with more dignity
155
Algeria and Tunis
than himself. The great man approaches smiling,
salutes the owner of our shop, condescends to enter,
drink a cup of coffee, and talk a little, then passes
through the rooms, and every one rises and bows, whilst
he with many salutes goes his way to the mosque. He
never fails to pay a yearly visit of ceremony to this old
dealer, or to traverse all the main bazaars, and he some-
times calls on one or two other merchants. After the
service is over, fireworks wind up the proceedings.
Thus do the Tunisians celebrate the birthday of
Mohammed, whom they believe to have been so unlike
and so superior to other men; because, as the legend
says, all children are born with a black spot in their
hearts, and when God chose His prophet, an angel
opened his heart and took the natural stain out of it, so
that he alone of all mankind had no taint of original
sin.
156
LIFE IN TUNIS
157
TUNIS FROM THE BELVEDERE
-x^
sift*
fWi^'
Ri-
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'^S/Ty
OF
CHAPTER X
LIFE IN TUNIS
Even in the quiet and silent streets of Tunis, where
every footstep echoes between the high white walls, the
hum of the distant hive can still be heard. The streets
even of the rich quarter are never straight, but meander
in and out, and are withal so narrow as to fit to a
nicety the lumbering old carriages that convey their
stately owners about the city. No two vehicles can
ever attempt to pass each other, but have to manoeuvre
down side alleys. Now and then the red blinds are
tightly closed, which means that the ladies of some
harem are taking an airing. But this is rare, for the
poor things have a very monotonous life in Tunis,
are never allowed to walk, do not seem, as at Algiers,
to picnic in the cemeteries, and seldom even drive.
Poor women are little seen in the streets, and those
of their rich sisters who have no pretensions to rank
are only permitted to walk about occasionally, and then
do so under the surveillance of servants, and with such
heavy silk veils that they must be almost smothered.
These so-called veils are of black silk, with decorative
159
Algeria and Tunis
borders and fringed ends of many colours. The width
is considerable, and the length sufficient to cover the
head and fall nearly to the ground on either side.
Exactly in the centre a small square of thinner material
is let in, but the wearer, in order to breathe and see the
ground at her feet, lifts the lower border a few inches
with both hands, and then toddles along in her high-
heeled slippers. Over the black veil comes the white
haick completely covering the whole figure.
These veiled women, the closed carriages, the
elaborate wooden or wrought- iron screens that mask
the windows, and the air of reserve about the houses, all
hint at a strange life within. The very doors open in
such a way as to reveal nothing of the inner court, and
the gay flowers in the windows alone show visible signs
of a woman's care. The closed doors are the symbol
of secrecy as impenetrable as the women's veils. When,
as occasionally happens, some story of the life of the
harem is allowed to leak out, the tale is always of
terror, cruelty, and persecution. Not that a visit to a
harem is at all tragic — quite the reverse ; for though it
is no new thing to be amused, it is rather unusual to
find oneself so amusing, to see that no detail escapes
criticism, to hear endless comments, and understand
nothing but the smiles, the gestures, and the stroking of
soft fingers. It is all guesswork from the moment
that the beautiful being, who acts as Cavass to the
Consulate, hands over his charges to a smiling woman,
with a great horn on her head, covered by a haick, the
dress of a Jewess, who is to act as escort. With becks
1 60
A STREET OF ARCHES, TUNIS
^^ji.ii ;:/yt*d»Tii ,
hi Bit,
Life in Tunis
and nods and many smiles, for she knew only two
words of French, she dived down street after street and
along narrow passages, which we could never find again,
till at last she stood at a door and knocked. Almost
noiselessly it opened, and we found ourselves exchang-
ing solemn greetings with our host, who sat on a divan
in the entrance. Having welcomed us, he allowed our
guide to lead us into the covered court filled with a
gay throng. Such a hubbub ! Music and singing and
long drawn-out trilling cries of joy, for this was a
party after a wedding. A group of women with
musical instruments sat on a mattress in one corner,
and sang and played at intervals, while the rest of the
company formed a circle on chairs and divans. As
soon as we entered every one crowded round us, and we
were stroked and patted, given coffee and chairs, before
the serious business of examining all our possessions
began. Our first breach of etiquette was that we
forgot to unveil. Our hostesses frowned and pointed
till the objectionable bit of net was removed. Hats
were of no consequence, as head-dresses were worn,
handsome kerchiefs of all colours with fringes, and
many jewels on the forehead. The dress consisted of
sleeveless embroidered coats over lace jackets or ordinary
low bodices, full trousers of rich brocades and satins, or,
in the case of visitors, of white cotton with stripes of
insertion and ribbon down the front, white stockings
and smart shoes. Beneath all this finery their necks
and arms were covered by ugly striped vests, so,
decidedly, the inherent good taste of their lords is not
l6l 21
Algeria and Tunis
shared by the ladies of the harem. They were all
short and generally stout, handsome in a rather heavy
way, with thick, painted eyebrows, darkened eyelashes,
and henna-stained hands. They peered into our faces to
try and discover paint and powder, took off our gloves
to see our hands, admired some real old lace, and, having
got over their first fear, fell absolutely in love with a
fur stole with little tails and claws. Our simple gold
chains and watches and our lack of other ornaments
evidently surprised them, as they were adorned
with golden cables and plaques of gold and brilliant
blue enamel. It was most embarrassing to talk by
signs, and our few words of Arabic were soon ex-
hausted. All their treasures were displayed : the
mother-of-pearl coffers, the great divans, the French
bedsteads hidden in alcoves. On one divan, two pretty
imps of children were lying with their faces buried in
the cushions. The women explained that they were in
terror at our great height ; they had never seen such
monsters. By force of contrast our slender, dark
figures may have appeared gigantic, but what would
they have thought of some of our six-foot friends ?
Before we left we had the pleasure of watching some
of them dress to go away. Some changed their socks
into commoner ones for the street, then the black veils
went on, and after that, with deft grace and subtle twist,
the hai'cks were arranged. Then they were ready to
face anyone, even their host in exile at his own front
door.
There was nothing remarkable about the house, but
162
Life in Tunis
the interior of many of the old buildings is very fine.
The rooms, opening out of the usual courts, have
carved ceilings and delicate stucco work, after the
fashion of the Alhambra. The effect is generally
spoilt by European hangings, carpets and furniture of
the worst period of the nineteenth century.
The Bey has some beautiful rooms in his town
palace of Dar el Bey, where fine old work is, with the
same want of knowledge, marred by the addition of
gilt clocks, glass chandeliers, and poor carpets, so that
it is a relief to escape to the roof and look out over the
city, and try to trace the whereabouts of streets and
bazaars hidden in the mass of white.
The Bardo, or show palace, in the country suffers
even more from the same want of artistic feeling.
Built mostly of marble, an imposing staircase, flanked
by lions couchant, four on each side, leads to an open
loggia and a fine court with horse-shoe arches, slender
columns, and the usual fountain. Other halls and
courts, beautiful in Moorish style, have the exquisite
lace-like stucco that is almost a lost art nowadays, and
wonderful ceilings ; but each hall contains gilt chairs,
the inevitable clocks, glass chandeliers, terrible portraits,
even cheap lace curtains and Brussels carpets with
glaring patterns, for which there is no possible excuse, as
the bazaars are full of splendid native carpets and
hangings of harmonious colourings and suitable designs.
However, the guardians are prouder of the enormities
in the way of portraits than they are of the place itself.
In the rich quarter the only other buildings of note
163
Algeria and Tunis
are the many white domes of the Marabouts, or tombs
of the Saints, and the yet more attractive green domes
that cover the burying-places of the Beys. These can
only be admired from the outside, as they share the
sacred character of the mosques. Green tiles also
appear as roofs for fountains, and are sometimes
supported by antique columns. Numbers of these
columns may be found all over the city embedded in
the walls and covered with whitewash.
The Hara, the old Jewish quarter, no longer holds
the enormous population. The old rules are things
of the past, the gates are no longer closed at night,
so the overflow fills the surrounding streets and gives
its own indescribable touch to the whole district.
The old men still wear the dark turbans and blue or
grey clothes, but the younger imitate the Moors if
poor, and if rich the Europeans. Driving is now a
favourite amusement, possibly because formerly those
who possessed donkeys might only ride them outside
the city walls, and horses were entirely forbidden.
Now every peculiarity of Eastern life seems intensi-
fied if not doubled. Twice as many people as in the
Arab quarter crowd into still narrower streets. Noise
and confusion never ceases. There are certainly fewer
shops, but the dirt is more than double, and as for the
smells, the variety is greater and twice as strong. Even
the name of the main street, Souk el Hout, or " Fried
Fish Street," suggests this.
Women and children abound, so do beautiful faces.
This is difficult to realise, till the first shock caused by
164
THE ZAOUlA OF THE RUE TOURBET EL BEY, TUNIS
autKKt'v^
Of
Life in Tunis
seeing so many unwieldy forms has been got over.
All the married women, however young, are moving
mountains of fat. It is considered their greatest adorn-
ment, and they are systematically fed on sweets and
fattening foods all day long till the requisite result is
attained. No one ever seems to fail in the effort !
Before the process begins the girls are lovely and
graceful, and their method of winding a wide piece of
striped material round them by way of a petticoat
shows their slender frames to great advantage, whilst
the gay kerchief on their heads contrasts brilliantly
with their dark hair and eyes.
The married women wear a quaint head - dress
consisting of a gold embroidered horn, kept in its place
by twisted scarves of black and gold silk. Out of
doors the ha'ick is draped over it — a fashion said to be
a legacy of Crusading times. The rest of the costume
is hideous, and appears to be designed to accentuate the
stoutness as much as possible. A short and loose coat
is worn over white trousers that are also short but
tight ; and though the coat of silk in vivid colours is
worn over a lace shirt with full sleeves to the elbow,
that does not help matters much. Out of doors the all-
enveloping haick is useful as a cloak, but indoors, in
one of the big courtyards where countless families live
and work together, these prodigious figures can neither
be overlooked nor ignored.
Going from quarter to quarter sketching is like
moving into a different country. Amongst the Arabs
and the Moors, whether rich or poor, the same courtesy
165
Algeria and Tunis
is always to be found. Although an Arab thinks it
wrong to draw any living thing, and believes that an
artist in reproducing a man's image gains power over
his soul, yet he will gravely permit his shop to be used,
and quietly prevent anyone getting in the way. Some
Mohammedans carry this curious belief still further,
and imagine that in the next world a painter will be
surrounded not only by the souls he has thus appropri-
ated, but also by those he has created through the power
of imagination ; but in any case, and whatever their
creed (though here and there a saint may frown), the
men of Tunis are always considerate and kindly. As
for the boys, they are a marvel — almost too good. The
magic word " Balek^'' or a wave of the brush, keeps
them at a reasonable distance, and there they will
stand quietly watching for hours. The regular street-
urchin with his short striped coat and hood, his ready
basket, and his cry " Portez^ Fortez^' is just as virtuous
as the dainty little gentleman in silks and fine linen.
Only once did a difficulty occur, and that was in
the Place Halfaouine, where the story-tellers draw
such crowds. As we walked down the very untidy
picturesque Souk (it is a poor district), an unearthly
yell was heard, as a huge gaunt man leaped up from
a divan. His hair was matted, and he was so filthy
that lumps of dirt stood up on his bare legs, so there
could be no doubt that he was a saint. A small sketch-
book or a kodak excited his ire, and he dogged our
footsteps, circling round us like a bird of prey. When
we stopped he sat down uttering strange shouts or yells
1 66
SOUK EL HOUT, TUNIS
Life in Tunis
from time to time. If we looked at anything or moved
the camera the yells became more fierce and insistent.
As he was obviously crazy and an extremely powerful
man, it would have been out of the question to upset his
holiness any further. So, as no story-telling was going
on, we turned back. He followed us up the bazaar,
under a running fire of half-jeering remarks from all
the shops, which troubled him not at all. His duty
was done : he had succeeded in getting rid of another
painter, and when he reached his own divan he cast
himself down with a final howl of relief, and we were
free once more.
One statement often made in the Arab quarter
comes with rather a shock to insular prejudice. Some-
times an Arab, but more often a Maltese, Indian, or
Levantine, in full national costume, says, " You Ingleez .?
I Ingleez same as you," and promptly relapses into
French, as those are the only words he knows of the
language which he claims as his own. It is usually
quite true, nevertheless, because even now they gain
security and protection by naturalisation, and formerly
it was their only safeguard.
In the Jewish quarter sketching is by no means so
easy as amongst the Mohammedans. Not from any
want of civility or friendliness, but from over-interest
and want of comprehension. Strangers are uncommon
and therefore exciting, a crowd soon gathers, and
becomes so dense that the victims are almost smothered.
One day a big smiling fellow came to the rescue and
proceeded to keep order in his own way : first with
167
Algeria and Tunis
a stick, and, when that failed, with splashes of water
from a copper pot, which he replenished continually.
Naturally there was a tremendous outcry ; the crowd
beat a hasty retreat, only to re-form immediately. It
took two men all their time, with much assistance from
gendarmes, to enable us to get that sketch finished,
whereas in the Souks one small boy was ample protec-
tion. Another quarter is called " Little Malta," and the
curious arrangement in black silk that the women wear,
half-hood, half-veil, is a picturesque addition to the
many national costumes seen in Tunis.
The Italians have also their own quarter, which
might be a fragment torn from Naples or Palermo, so
identical are the manners and mode of life. Even the
macaroni hanging out to dry is not forgotten. They
greatly outnumber the French, and have been a source
of considerable trouble, as Tunis was the refuge of
fugitive criminals from Italy and, indeed, all parts of
the Mediterranean. Although their advent is now
forbidden by law, and murderers are calmly returned
to their own countries, yet there are still enough
desperate characters left to make things difficult for the
authorities, who would like to keep up a pose of virtue
on behalf of all Europeans. In sober truth, however,
most of the frays and robberies are the work of the
mixed low-class population.
In Mohammedan Tunis, outside the Medina, perhaps
the most typical quarter is that of Bab Souika, of which
the Place Halfaouine, already mentioned, is the centre.
Full of cafes, it is the scene of wild excitement during
i68
RUE TOURBET EL BEY, TUNIS
/n^'*Ui k,i{t}i,.rr
Ut-JIV HSITY
OF
(, . p ", R Nii^
Life in Tunis
the month of Rhamadan, the great fast of the Moham-
medans, kept, it is said, because Adam wept for thirty
days when he was driven out of Paradise, before he
obtained God's favour and pardon. The fast is so strict
that from sunrise to sunset no food whatever is taken,
not so much as a cup of coffee, or even a drop of water
on the hottest day, and smoking is also forbidden.
Then when the sunset gun is fired, feasting and revelry
begin, and are kept up all night. A certain gaiety and
good humour is visible at all times. There are as many
cafes as in the main street in Damascus, and in the after-
noon they are always full of men smoking, and playing
games. A young story-teller with the face of a monk
holds his audience entranced by his dramatic talent.
He not only tells his tales, but lives them. He has
an endless flow of words, and never pauses except for
effect. The listeners form a circle round him, either
standing or sitting on the ground, wholly absorbed
in the story. Snake charmers are his only rivals in
the afternoon, but at night dancing goes on in some
of the cafes.
Silk weaving and pottery are the Industries of the
district : one long bazaar is given up to weavers, and
a row of queer, square shops to the sale of pottery.
Porous water-jars, beautiful in form — some plain, others
roughly decorated in dark lines, both wonderful for
cooling water by evaporation — cost only a few sous.
Green pottery for ordinary household use of a more
durable kind, designed with a most unusual quaintness,
is also to be had.
169 22
Algeria and Tunis
Another open space, devoted to snake charmers and
a sort of rag fair, is to be found near Bab Djedid, the
finest of the old gates. Old rubbish of all sorts — brass
and iron, rugs, rags, glass and pottery, mostly broken —
is spread out on the ground, and behind each little heap
sits its watchful owner, A few women, usually Bedawin
or negresses, bring food and grain, which they pile up on
cloths, laid in the dust. Hither come all the strangers
— men from the country and the desert, and here again
the triumph of Tunis over all the cities of North Africa
in the matter of clothing, of all varieties of shape and
colour, is made manifest.
Here is no dull uniformity, no monotony, as in other
places. The well-known white folds of the burnous
may be admired once more, but raiment of camel's -
hair, in tones of warm brown, quite alters the scheme
of colour. It is fashioned into a gandourah — a long,
hooded coat or shirt reaching to the knees. Sometimes,
however, the gandourah is hoodless, of a very dark
brown tint and braided with white. Again, it is often
striped in natural colours, or with threads of red and
blue, but occasionally plain dark-blue is seen. Very
often the wearers of brown burnouses might be taken
for Franciscans, but when blankets with stripes and
fringes are in question, no one but an Arab could arrange
them with such unconscious art.
Long draperies and floating folds may outshine the
Turkish dress of embroidered coat and vest, gay girdle,
and full, short trousers, supplemented by a cloak, but
it is equally popular. The same costume, without the
170
RAG FAIR
Life in Tunis
coat, in white or drab, is worn by pedlars and fruit-
sellers. Their legs are bare and their feet slippered ;
socks and shoes are pure luxury. These fruit-sellers
are a joy. They own tiny donkeys, and lade them with
huge open panniers of sacking, or queer double twin-
baskets, lined with green, and filled with oranges in
winter, and by the end of April with apricots or
almonds. Fruit is both plentiful, cheap, and varied.
The province was once the Roman granary, and could
still do much for Europe in the way of luxuries, as well
as send over great supplies of corn and olives.
The cook-shops have also fascinations. They are all
dim and dark, mysterious with the smoke of ages and
the steam of the moment. Dim figures flit busily to
and fro, stirring strange ingredients in huge pans over
their charcoal fires. Coloured tiles give relief and gaiety
to the entrance, cover the stoves, and form a sort of
counter. In early morning the maker of pancakes has
it all his own way ; at dinner-time he of the cous-couss
does a thriving trade, and at night, and all night through,
it is said there is a great sale for a special kind of
peppery soup.
The walls and gates on this the southern side of
Tunis are of great antiquity, and consist not only of the
original walls of the old town, but also of an outer circle
with five gates enclosing the suburb of El Djazira.
Within its boundaries are held horse and cattle markets,
which no doubt account for the variety of tribes and
costumes to be seen.
Through the outer gate come caravans from the
171
Algeria and Tunis
desert, and camels laden with fodder and fuel. Men
and camels find a lodging in the many fonduks near the
Bab el Fellah — resting-places as primitive and patri-
archal as the caravans themselves.
From the hilltop outside the walls is a superb out-
look over the city, and also across the salt lake to the
mountain of Zaghouan, though for pure charm it is
outdone by the view from the park-like grounds of the
Belvedere, some distance out of town through the
curious double gate of El Khadra.
Only a few years ago the barren hillside was skilfully
laid out and planted with trees, and already the ground
is carpeted with wild flowers, and the eucalyptus has
reached a respectable height. The delicate grace of the
pepper trees and the silvery grey of the olive mingle
with masses of mimosa and acacia, Judas trees, and many
flowering shrubs, to give their own brightness, and fill
the air with perfume. So once more the country has a
chance of returning to its earlier aspect before the Arabs
cut down forests and olive groves for firewood, after
their usual extravagant custom.
It is a pleasant place truly in spring and in summer,
and the nearest refuge from the heat. Here many
jaded Tunisians linger in the comparative freshness
till long after midnight, though, being French, they
must needs have a theatre and casino to amuse them.
They have also transplanted and restored two Moorish
pavilions that were falling into ruins, owing to the
curious local custom by which no Bey, or excep-
tionally rich man, may dwell in the same house in
172
THE FRITTER SHOP, TUNIS
\\
Life in Tunis
which his predecessor died, but has to abandon it
entirely. Probably a survival of ancestor worship.
Whether the Arabs appreciate the ever-changing
beauty of their country or no, their descriptions never
vary. Tunis incontestibly merits the title of the
*' white " as it stretches across the isthmus dividing the
stagnant lake of El Bahira from the salt lake, Sedjoumi.
It certainly might be *' a diamond in an emerald frame,"
though a pearl would express the white wonder amongst
the green with more precision. As for the familiar
" burnous with the Casbah as the hood," surely they
might have invented a new simile, though it is apt
enough.
The forts on the hills are no concern of theirs, for,
like the aqueduct in the plain, they are picturesque
legacies of Charles V. The harbour full of shipping
is a thing of to-day, and so is the modern town. La
Goulette (Halk el Oued, or the throat of the canal),
glittering at the further side of the lake, is of yesterday ;
its importance gone with the new canal, but its Venetian
charm happily undimmed. Carthage and La Marsa, a
third lake towards Utica, El Ariana, the village of roses,
the holiday resort of the Jews, are all visible from the
gardens, the whole held tenderly in wide-reaching
embrace by the mountains and the sea.
The new town, which starts from the Porte de
France in such imposing fashion, a wide, straight
avenue bordered by flowering acacias, reaches its finest
point where the Residency fronts the Cathedral across
some gardens, then gradually diminishes in grandeur
173
Algeria and Tunis
till it ends in a collection of huts, cabarets, and ware-
houses standing on untidy wharves.
Twenty years ago, so an old officer told us, the land
was a desolate morass, unspeakably dirty. Now it is a
flourishing city, and though fault may be found with
the style of the building on account of the want of
shelter from heat and glare, and the unsuitability of
such high houses in case of earthquake, these are minor
details. The great need now is for some system of
draining the Bahira, which has received the filth of
ages, and takes its revenge in sending in hot weather
and in certain winds a truly terrible smell to torment
the city. It is an unaccountable fact that some perfect
quality in air or soil fights against this evil and over-
comes it, keeping the city free from epidemics and
noted for its general healthiness.
The harbour has as yet a very unfinished appearance.
The native boats with lateen sails are its great attrac-
tion, though ships of all nations and considerable
tonnage can now approach the quays. Gay little
scenes occur when the fish comes in, or when timber is
being landed by gangs of Arabs wading in the still
water ; for all that is evil in this remarkable lake is
hidden by the calm loveliness of a lagoon.
What is known to the Tunisians as les chaleurs, or
real summer heat, sets in towards the end of May or
beginning of June. With the heat come many changes^
The town Moors drop their many cloaks and display
the wealth of silk and embroidery usually hidden.
The men from the country wear yard -wide steeple-
174
UNLADING WOOD
lE^fivzSSS*
-.-^jjWJ '■ ':■".>■
/
^»*,Mw'.. EWe4i.rr^
■^
-J
Life in Tunis
crowned hats over their turbans ; for if the burning sun
is trying in the city, what must it be in the country,
where no cool shadows offer shelter ? The Europeans?
soldiers and civilians alike, appear in white, and the
tyranny of the shirt collar is ended with the coming of
sun helmets and umbrellas. Ladies don their thinnest
muslins, and do not venture out before the evening.
Everyone seeks the shade except the Italian women,
who will stand bareheaded, idly swinging their closed
parasols, where no Arab would keep them company.
A scirocco or wind from the desert intensifies the
heat to an unbearable degree, night brings no relief, and
this burning blast may last three, five, or nine days ;
and a nine days' scirocco is an experience to be remem-
bered. A resident gave us this warning encouragement :
"If you stay till June and come in for a bad scirocco
you will think you will die, but you won't." The
sensation of misery could hardly be better expressed :
one gasps for breath, sleep is impossible, and the only
tolerable moments are those passed quite close to an
electric fan. Plants and trees shrivel up, so that the
gardens look as if they had been actually burnt. The
country is scarcely cooler than the town, and at the
seaside there is little relief, as four or five degrees'
difference does not help much when the thermometer
is once over ioo° Fahrenheit.
175
CARTHAGE
^11 23
CHAPTER XI
CARTHAGE
The realm of the Queen of the Seas is now desolate
— desolate, but untouched by sadness. Tragedy and
doom are hidden beneath the brightness of summer
flowers and the promise of an abundant harvest.
The ruins that remain are not fine enough in them-
selves to call forth memories of a glorious past. The
greatness is gone. Nothing is now left to speak of
bygone ages with an insistent voice ; nothing strong
enough to break down the dulness and create an interest
in ancient history. Those who expect to have their
historic sense awakened and quickened by the sight,
turn empty and disappointed away, for all enjoyment
rises from the dreams and imagination born of some
knowledge or wide reading, and not from what Car-
thage can now show ; for the Phoenician city was so
utterly destroyed by the Romans under Scipio in the
year 146 b.c. that the plough was driven over the site.
Subsequently city after city rose from the same ground
to be destroyed almost as entirely. Columns and
capitals from the Roman, Vandal, and Byzantine cities
179
Algeria and Tunis
may be seen in Tunis, Kairouan, and Sicily, and even
so far away as Italy and Spain. Here there are few
left.
Traces of the original city are still harder to find,
and must be sought far below the earth's surface under
successive layers of ruins and soil. Three mosaic pave-
ments of different periods have often been discovered
one below the other, whilst the foundations of Punic
temples and inscriptions in that language thus buried
still show signs of fire. The story of Carthage is also
shrouded in mystery ; even the date of its foundation
is uncertain. All that is known is that in the dawn of
history, when the Israelites took possession of Palestine,
the Canaanites retreated to Tyre and Sidon, and there
built up a mighty state. From these two cities daring
mariners set forth in frail coasting vessels to found
settlements in Asia Minor, Greece, Africa, and Spain,
extending their voyages of discovery in later times,
gathering riches and treasures from the distant ends of
the then known world.
One of the earliest of these colonies was the city of
Utica, and probably when Dido arrived in Africa (if
she ever did), after her flight from the cruelty and
treachery of the Tyrian king, there were already other
cities on the plain. Her taste and judgment must have
been equal to her beauty and artfulness when she
chose this spot for her city of refuge, and beguiled the
inhabitants into granting her the land that the tradi-
tional oxhide would cover ; for the situation is as
lovely as any on the north coast of Africa, the harbour
1 80
THE ANCIENT PORTS OF CARTHAGE
JWi
$ Si
Carthage
good, and the country rich. The colony was known at
first as Kirjath-Hadeschath, or New Town, to distin-
guish it from the older city of Utica. The Greek name
was Karchedon, and the Romans called it Carthago.
Strangely enough we depend on the enemies of
Carthage for accounts of her history, as, with few
exceptions, her own records were destroyed. No great
poems are left, no annals, nothing remains but a few
inscriptions, some fragments, and the three treaties with
Rome. The Roman narratives are tinged with envy
and hatred, yet even so the fame of Carthage stands
out clearly, and the deeds of her sons, both as sailors
and soldiers, surpass those of other days and other
peoples. What admirals of any time would so gallantly
have dared such a voyage in small vessels as did
Hanno, who almost reached the equator from the
north coast of Africa, or Himilco, who, in a four
months' voyage, " keeping to his left the great shoreless
ocean on which no ship had ever ventured, where the
breeze blows not, but eternal fogs rest upon its lifeless
waters," discovered the Scilly Isles, Ireland, and the
wide isle of Albion ? These admirals have left records
of their doings which still exist. Generals more famous
still, vied with each other in their country's service,
fighting bravely on in face of neglect and want of
support, knowing that success met with scant praise,
and that failure meant death if they returned to the
capital. Such names as Hamilcar Barca and the still
greater Hannibal recall to memory the tales of the
genius of those who upheld her power.
i8i
Algeria and Tunis
Yet for all this Carthage was no warlike city, but
was given over to the arts of peace, to the pursuit and
enjoyment of wealth. It was a city of merchant princes,
an oligarchy like that of Venice in later times, and the
Romans were astounded at the luxury and beauty of the
buildings and the far-spreading suburbs.
Agriculture was apparently a favourite pursuit, as a
treatise on the subject, in twenty -eight books, was
written by Mago, who was called by the Romans the
father of husbandry. This book they saved from
the general destruction of Carthaginian literature and
translated into their own language. Varro, whose own
work on ancient agriculture is the most valuable we
possess, quotes Mago as the highest authority.
As the city was looted and the treasures carried to
Rome it is idle to expect to find anything very note-
worthy to show the Carthaginian skill in art. But the
White Fathers have in their museum a large collection
of bronzes and pottery, and a few jewels of all periods,
some of them of peculiar interest because of the strong
resemblance between the Punic designs and those of
Egypt. Many of the gods are the same, and sacred
eyes and scarabs are plentiful. Curious bulbous vessels,
used as feeding-bottles for babies, have faces roughly
painted on them, the spout taking the place of a mouth.
The bronzes have much in common with those of
Pompeii, and some fine tombs with full-sized figures
might be Greek. The garden of the Monastery is also
full of fine fragments and inscriptions, and stands on
the brow of the hill that was once the Byrsa, and is
182
THE OLD PUNIC CISTERNS, CARTHAGE
-I
isar". i
*._3«*.^i^ i
Carthage
now known as the hill of St. Louis. It faces the Gulf
of Tunis, charming in outline, glorious in light, and
full of colour.
The twin peaks of Bou Korneine, the Gemini
Scopuli of Virgil, soft as a dream in the early morning,
are the distinctive beauty of the curve of the bay to the
right. On the other side rise the heights of Sidi Bou
Said, or Cap Carthage. The Mediterranean and the
lagoon of the Bahira, "the little sea," or lake of Tunis,
are of a wondrous blue, the water shimmers in the
sunshine, the town of La Goulette gleams likewise, and
so do the houses scattered along the coast. The slopes
of the hill and the whole of the plain towards the sea
are covered, as it were, with cloth of scarlet and gold
and green, poppies and marigolds and waving corn, in
masses such as can rarely be found elsewhere. The
ancient ports of Carthage, now so reduced in size, still
retain something of their original form. The military
harbour is circular, with an island in the centre where
the admiral once dwelt. These tiny lakes, calm as
glass, and almost more definitely blue than the Mediter-
ranean itself, hardly suggest themselves as the busy
harbours of the Queen of the Seas, but look rather, as a
French author says, like the lakes of an English garden.
Here and there shapeless masses of masonry can be
seen scattered over the plain, either hardly visible under
the living veil of green, or showing like scars, but there
is nothing that is in any way an addition to the picture.
The view on all sides is beautiful, which is more than
can be said by the most charitable of the buildings
183
THE CARTHAGE AQUEDUCT
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Carthage
cisterns into the Arab village of La Malga. These
underground homes are supposed to be far superior to
tents or huts, as they are cool in summer, and warm and
dry in winter. They look like vaulted halls, as the
lower half has become filled with soil, and they are
closed at the ruinous ends by rough wooden walls and
doors. At any rate if not quite ideal dwellings, they
are picturesque and at least unusual. Though there are
many theories on the subject, the design and much of
the actual work is considered to be Phcenician, though
considerably restored and in part rebuilt by the
Romans. Some authorities find traces of Punic work
in the aqueduct also, others suppose that the Cartha-
ginians used the cisterns merely to store rain-water, and
think that the Romans, when they defied the curse and
rebuilt the city, found the water-supply insufficient, and
therefore made an aqueduct in the reign of Hadrian,
A.D. 1 17-138. It underwent many disasters, and was
partially destroyed and rebuilt over and over again.
First, the Vandals, under Gilimer, did their worst to it,
and Belisarius restored the damage ; then the Byzantines
had their turn, and it was put in order by their Arab
conquerors, only to be again injured by the Spaniards.
Finally, some part of it began useful life once more
under a French engineer in the reign of Sidi Saduk, the
late Bey.
One spring still rises in the Nymphea, or temple of
the waters, amongst rocks and trees and flowers at
Zaghouan, Mons. Zeugitanus, and the other is brought
from Djebel Djouggar, Mons. Zuccharus. The great
185 24
Algeria and Tunis
aqueduct stretches out like a chain connecting the
mountains and the plain — a chain of massive links,
sadly broken and often interrupted in its long course of
over sixty Roman miles. The channel is carried down
the mountain-side, sometimes over and sometimes
under the ground, and on the plains it is often raised on
immense piers. Near Carthage it has been broken up
and entirely destroyed, and the water has then to find its
way through ordinary modern pipes.
There is a look of grandeur and beauty about the
ruined arches, as they are seen rising from the sunny,
flowery fields, that is usually wasted on an unapprecia-
tive world, as few drive far enough out from Tunis to
enjoy the sight.
At Carthage the masses of flowers give a certain
charm to ruins of no intrinsic beauty. Brilliant mari-
golds crowd every nook and cranny in the Punic tombs,
shedding the glory of their golden life over the dreary
maze of catacombs, where formerly the dead rested, but
which are now bare and empty ; though in another
district one curious tomb, formed of three solid blocks
of stones, in form like the beginning of a house of cards,
is built with a few others in the side of a shadeless,
barren cliff. Flowers fringe and cover the Basilica,
surround the newly excavated Roman villa, contrasting
daintily with the broken columns and mosaic pavements,
and touch with their brightness the elliptical outlines of
the Roman amphitheatre, where many Christian martyrs
suffered for the Faith. Of these St. Nemphanion was
the first (a.d. 198), though the best known and most
186
Carthage
loved are Saint Perpetua, and Saint Felicita, to whom
the little chapel in the centre is dedicated.
The flowers harmonise with thoughts of the young
and beautiful widow who gave up child and wealth,
and who herself wrote of her joy and suffering in prison.
She tells us of her vision of a golden ladder, beset with
swords and lances, and guarded by a dragon, whom she
quelled in the name of Christ, and so mounted to a
heavenly garden, where a white-haired shepherd, sur-
rounded by his flock, gave her a welcome and a piece of
cheese, whilst thousands of forms in white garments
said " Amen." The vision foretold her martyrdom,
which took place between a.d. 203 and 206. Accord-
ing to a custom peculiar to Carthage — a relic of old
Phoenician days when human sacrifices were offered
to Baal - Moloch, and men worshipped the horned
Astarte — the men were expected to wear scarlet robes,
like the priests of Saturn, and the women yellow, after
the fashion of the priestesses of Ceres — a reason perhaps
for the wealth of scarlet and yellow blossoms that now
flourish so abundantly. The Christians refused, saying
that they suffered in order to avoid such rites, and the
justice of the plea was allowed.
A cross marks the spot on a little hill between La
Malga and the Byrsa where St. Cyprian was beheaded in
A.D. 258. An interesting fact, to which Archbishop
Benson calls attention in his Life of Cyprian, is that long
before any Bishop of Rome appears with the title of
Papa, or Pope, in any sense, it was used as a formal
mode of address to Cyprian by the clergy of Rome.
187
Algeria and Tunis
And it is clear from the history of his times that there
was then no idea of Papal supremacy, but that, on the
contrary, the Bishop of Carthage once at least overruled
the decision of the Bishop of Rome.
Strange as it seems now, with Mohammedanism all
around. Christian Carthage became in its turn a great
power, with a long line of bishops, whilst North Africa
not only counted some six hundred Episcopal sees, but
also produced such famous men as Tertullian, Cyprian,
Lactantius, and Augustine. Nothing is now left any-
where except the ruins of three or four basilicas, some
lamps with Christian emblems, and a few inscriptions.
To see all the ruins at Carthage is no light matter.
Distances are so great, and there is such a dearth of
conspicuous landmarks to guide the search. The nine
miles' drive from Tunis is mostly considered very
monotonous, as the road itself is straight and dull, though
the beauty of the mountains and the lake, the flush of
scarlet from the flamingoes in its marshy edges, the
marvels of the flower-clad meadows, the dark tents
of the nomads, and the picturesque workers in the
fields, are surely enough to make even a longer distance
seem short. The first impression is altogether finer if
it is gained by driving through the country to the gay
villas of La Marsa, and so up the hill to Sidi Bou Said,
than by taking the railway and then walking from point
to point. The Arab town of Sidi Bou Said is so holy
a place that no unbelievers were formerly allowed to
live there, hardly even to walk its streets, and yet the
saint after whom it is called is no other than St. Louis
i88
THE SITE OF CARTHAGE FROM SIDI BOU SAID
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Carthage
of France, the Crusader who died of pestilence before
the walls of Tunis. The Mohammedans, however,
believe that he adopted their religion, died and was
buried in this village, showing how even his enemies
admired his saintliness, and also that the God whom
both worshipped was the same God as Mohammed
always taught. The small town is piled up on the
highest point of the hill in true Oriental fashion, and
from the lighthouse on the summit the view is superb,
with the Mediterranean almost surrounding the cape.
The whole site of the ancient city is visible, from the
rocky headlands in front to the distant town of La
Goulette on the promontory that separates the open sea
from the lake ; a wide sweep of plain, the many low
hills, the Byrsa marked by the whiteness of the new
Cathedral, the whole circle of mountains, the summei
villages gleaming at their feet, Tunis, the villas and
gardens ot La Marsa, the site of Utica, now more
desolate than Carthage itself, the beautiful line of cliffs
towards Bizerta — all combine to give some idea of the
possibilities and beauties of ancient Carthage.
189
SOUSSE AND EL DJEM
191
CHAPTER XII
SOUSSE AND EL DJEM
A REFRESHING Uncertainty, almost amounting to a
touch of adventure, gives zest to plans for a trip
southwards. Beyond the one undisputed fact that the
inn at Sousse leaves nothing to be desired, information
is vague and scanty.
The journey opens in a fashion that promises much.
There are only two trains in the day, and both are
inconvenient. One starts too early and the other too
late. The railway carriages with their narrow seats and
hard cushions proclaim by sheer discomfort the un-
frequented route and the dearth of travellers. The
windows, that are either wide open or shut, but know
no happy mean, guarantee a pleasing alternative of cold
or stuffiness, for it soon becomes impossible to hold a
heavy frame perpetually at a proper height.
It is delightful to feel that all sorts of possibili-
ties lie hidden in the immediate future, and that the
rate of progress already lifts the journey out of the
commonplace. It is slow enough to be phenomenal,
and gives time not only for observation but for quiet
193 25
Algeria and Tunis
meditation on every detail of the landscape before it
disappears.
There is no objection to this for some distance out
of Tunis, as the route is pretty. The line skirts the
edge of the bay, passing through the gay watering-
places full of sunshine and flowers that lie at the foot
of Bou Korneme. During the sunset hour, when the
plains are flooded with glory, the train might stop
entirely, and welcome. But when the last tint of
colour has vanished and no consolation is left, then
the long, purposeless halts at wayside stations become
exasperating. It does seem wasteful to spend so much
time over so short a distance.
When morning comes, this mood flies away at the
unexpected sight of a mediaeval town on the opposite
side of the harbour ; for Sousse follows the Tunisian
fashion, and the French colony dwells apart. The old
town stands on a gentle rise beside the waters of the
Mediterranean, a complete survival from the Middle
Ages. Not grey and timeworn like our northern
strongholds, but radiant in the sunshine, a mass of
glittering white, crowned and girdled by gold — towers
and bastions and crenellated walls. The reflection of
these old-world defences in the calm waters below is
almost as brilliant as the reality.
In the evening a change comes over the spirit of the
place, the brightness fades away and is succeeded by a
gentle melancholy, a slight film, the dimness of age, as
if the warriors of bygone times returned at sundown
to hover over their old castle, full of unavailing regret
194
SOUSSE
r'
^
<i
Sousse and El Djem
that their day is over, and that from the topmost
battlements an alien flag now floats.
Sousse, under its old title of Hadrumetum, has a
quite respectable antiquity. Sallust mentions it as a
Phcenician colony of older date than Carthage. Under
the Emperor Trajan it became a Roman colony, the
capital of the Byzacene or mid-Tunisia. No one knows
when or how it received the name of Sousse, and even
the fact of its being Hadrumetum at all was once a
matter of dispute. Hercha and Hammamet are both
supposed by some to have a better claim to the dis-
tinction, and Ruspina has been given as the original
name of Sousse. It fell into the hands of the Nor-
mans from Sicily during the twelfth century, but has
otherwise remained a Moslem fortress from their first
invasion to the time of the French occupation in 1881.
Now the French colony seems bright and prosperous,
and the inhabitants talk more cheerfully of their fate
than usual ; for there is much to do, and the recently
opened harbour is a great improvement, as formerly
the roadstead was defenceless in certain prevalent winds,
and now ships can ride safely at anchor and take in
im.mense cargoes of corn and oil, the staple produce of
the district.
Once within the old gates the Arab town, though
most picturesque, shows litde that is distinctive. It
possesses narrow Eastern streets, whiter even than
usual, and small bazaars, after the manner of Tunis,
but with no individuality of their own. Tunis, Algiers,
and Constantine have so much character that their
195
Algeria and Tunis
identity could hardly be mistaken by anyone who knew
the tokens, even if he were dropped unawares into one
of their streets. The architecture, the colour, and the
appearance of the inhabitants are all so different in
type.
From every side Sousse presents a striking picture,
and from the towers of the Casbah the view over the
sunny terraces to the wondrous blue of the bay and
the soft green of the olives is beautiful. But the only
building that is really curious in the town itself is the
Kahwat el Koubba, or cafe of the dome, a small
Byzantine basilica. Unfortunately, it is so built into
the bazaar that it is difficult to see its peculiarities. It
is quite square for rather more than the height of a
man from the ground, then round for the same distance,
and has a fluted dome.
The rue Halfaouine, the street where pottery is sold
and mats are made, is quainter than in Tunis, for there
the two trades work separately. These men were very
busy, and with one exception had not the slightest
objection to being watched or painted. The one man
who did object wore the green turban of the descendants
of the Prophet, and built up an elaborate screen of plaits
to hide himself. He soon forgot his dread, gradually
used up the plaits, and forgot to replace them.
Granted a little patience with the shortcomings of
the train service and it is no trouble to see Sousse, but
the excursion to El Djem is quite another matter.
Until quite lately difficulties strewed the path, and the
drive alone took one long day or even two. Now,
196
THE BASKET-MAKERS, SOUSSE
»*.
Sousse and El Djem
thanks to the introduction of a postal motor-car
service, the journey between Sousse and Sfax is smooth
enough.
The shaky old diligence still runs tor the benefit of
second- and third-class passengers, and takes a wearisome
time about the journey, which the motor accomplishes
in rather more than three hours. This motor is a
heavy, but very roomy vehicle, somewhat like a coach
with six places inside, two beside the driver and more
on the roof, and moves with the steady, resistless force
of great weight. As a rule, all the seats are taken
some days beforehand, for there is much coming and
going of business men between Sousse and Sfax ; but
we were lucky enough to secure ours after only two
days, and to have only one other passenger in the
interior, which meant heaps of space and a clear view
with no intervening heads. The straightness of the
road is at first mitigated by the beauty of the old olive
trees, but when these give place to new plantations, the
young trees and bushes are so few and far between that
they only accentuate the dreariness of the landscape.
Still, a look of wellbeing is coming over the land, and
if all goes well, the arid plains will once again become
fruitful, and the mischief wrought by El Kahina, the
celebrated chieftainness of the Aures, who destroyed
all the farms and villages, will be remembered no more.
F^ormerly the whole country from Tripoli to Tangiers
was wooded and fertile, but the destruction of the
forests has given the land its present inhospitable
character, so that where twenty inhabitants flourished
197
Algeria and Tunis
in Roman times, it was hard work for one man to get a
living, till the French came and began to restore the
ancient order.
One village of importance, and one only, breaks the
monotony of the route, and the motor passes through
its narrow streets, which it almost fits, hooting and
scattering the people right and left, shaking them out
of their dreamy ways with its message of speed and
progress. Yet though some grumble more admire.
Even on this frequented road, where the motor
passes twice daily, the same amusing precautions are
taken by the Arabs as at Hammam Meskoutine. The
camels are ridden off into the plains, carts are dragged
to the side of the road, and the horses' heads covered
up — even the donkeys are held very tight. And if
any man is too sleepy to attend to them, his animals
give him enough to do to pacify them after the horror
has passed.
After this village the olives disappear. Nothing
is visible but a wide plain, literally carpeted with wild
flowers, mostly common ones, but exquisite from pure
abundance of colour. Amongst them are masses of
small purple gladiolus, the most beautiful flower of
them all.
For miles ahead the road stretches out straight as a
gigantic ruler, diminishing in perfect perspective to a
vanishing point on the horizon, the effect enhanced by
the slight undulations of the plain. The road is
without shade or trees, there are not even villages to be
seen, only a few Bedawin camps, and an occasional house
198
Sousse and El Djem
surrounded by fragrant mimosa and olive trees, the
dwellings of the French road-surveyor. Innumerable
traces of the Roman occupation are to be found on
every side, ruined farms, old walls, and fragments of
buildings, showing that this must have been almost as
densely populated as the district between Hadrumetum
(Sousse) and Carthage, which, as a Roman historian
tells us, was shaded for the whole length of the road by
villas and beautiful gardens.
At last, dimly discernible in the distance, a vast
form rises, desolate and alone upon the earth, a forlorn
relic of Roman splendour, the African rival of the
Colosseum at Rome — the amphitheatre of El Djem.
It is only a few feet smaller than its great original, is
built on the same lines, is of the same massive breadth,
and what it loses in actual measurement is regained by
its isolated position. A building of such proportions
is sufficiently impressive in the heart of a famous city,
but out here in the wilderness the effect is overwhelm-
ing. The very existence of such a huge place of
amusement so far from the present haunts of men, on a
spot so bereft of all visible means of supporting a city
large enough to send 60,000 spectators to witness the
games, is strange, almost unthinkable. The land, of
course, is good, but water is not here in any abundance,
and there is no stone in the neighbourhood — the fine
white limestone used in the building having all been
brought from Sallecta on the coast.
Nothing now remains but this, the wonder of North
Africa, of the whole city of Thyrsus mentioned by
199
Algeria and Tunis
Pliny and Ptolemy, except a half-buried Corinthian
capital of colossal size, a road, fragments of a villa,
some baths and a few mosaics, all more or less hidden
and much scattered among the olives.
The Proconsul Gordian rebelled against Maximin,
and was proclaimed Emperor at the age of eighty, at
Thyrsus in a.d. 238, about the time of the building of
the amphitheatre, which is sometimes supposed to have
been his work as Emperor. But this could hardly be,
as he was defeated in battle, and died by his own hand
within two months.
The amphitheatre was looked upon by the Arabs as
a place of refuge in troublous times, and was often used
as a fortress. It is called Kasr el Kahina, or Palace of
the Sorceress, after the celebrated El Kahina, of whom
many legends are told. When she was besieged in this
singular castle of hers, she caused subterranean passages
to be made to the sea coast at Sallecta, and had this
done on so large a scale that several horsemen could
ride through them abreast. The Arabs believe firmly
in these marvellous passages, but the entrance to them
has not yet been found. However, later on, another
sieffe had to be raised, because the defenders were so
well supplied that they mockingly threw down fresh fish
to the besiegers, who were already suffering from want
of food.
In modern times the great breach made in one of the
sieges has been enlarged by the Arabs, who used it as a
quarry, and built their large village beneath its shelter
entirely out of the spoils. Now this quarrying has been
200
THE ROMAN AMPHITHEATRE, EL DJEM
..i.;CSfe*-.-ii;.^:^<T:J'
Sousse and El Djem
stopped by law, happily in time, and the breach, over-
grown as it is with moss and plants, only serves to make
the ruin more beautiful as it lies among the prickly
pears and olives. On the side nearest the village, how-
ever, it is in such good preservation, and the four
galleries are so perfect, that with the regularity comes a
certain loss of picturesqueness. The village is quite un-
usual : the stolen stone has been used as if it were mud,
the houses are built like huts with large walled courts,
and big doors, which are defended by barking dogs.
The men are indifferent to strangers, but the children,
pretty as they are, become a positive torment. They
have learnt the value of a petit sou^ and keep up a
never-ending litany in the vain hope of obtaining one.
This comes of the bad habit of throwing coins from the
automobile for the pleasure of seeing a scramble.
In the evening some sort of a fete was on hand,
absolutely different to any we had seen. Bowers had
been built, flags and greenery were festooned across the
street, and in one large booth, covered with green, a
crowd was gathered to watch a performance of howling
dervishes, probably Aissaouas, A long row of men
and boys with streaming hair were working themselves
into a state of frenzy, with violent rhythmic movements
of their heads, as they threw them backwards and for-
wards, and panted like steam-engines. There were also
groups of masqueraders with unearthly masks, pretend-
ing to be animals and going on all fours, and a mock
bridal party with a soldier arrayed as the bride, his feet
and gaiters alone betraying him.
201 26
Algeria and Tunis
There is no inn of any sort, so travellers stay at
the school, which is also the post-office. The French
schoolmaster, his wife, and a little girl, are the only
Europeans in the place, though it contains one Jew and
one Maltese — so Oriental as not to count.
The school is an old building, once the house of a
Bey ; it was then a big open cloister. Now walls, doors,
windows, and partitions have been added to form large
double cells, vaulted as in a monastery, but with horse-
shoe arches. These cells are scantily furnished, so that
they look both bare and spacious. Once they were
used for storing gunpowder, which has left the walls
sadly discoloured. In fact, the appearance of the house
was well in keeping with predictions which we had
received about roughing it ; but we found that instead
of starving, the meals were quite elegant, consisting of
many courses, and including such luxuries as chicken,
lamb, and quails. The bread was very dry, and there
was no butter ; but much experience had foreseen that
difficulty, and jam, biscuits, and tea travelled with us.
The schoolmaster was silent, but contented. His wife,
however, suffered much from the loneliness ; for the
small doings of the household, teaching a native servant
and superintending the cooking, could not fill her life.
She was pining for friends and sympathy, and her
nearest neighbours, a detachment of soldiers, lived
fourteen or fifteen miles away. The diligence and the
motor cars alone brought variety, and they passed
quickly with some pleasant bustle, and then silence came
once more. The school itself is a success : the boys
202
Sousse and El Djem
seem to learn well, and are eager to air their French and
pick up new ideas.
At night, even when the little garrison has been
raised to five, there is a strange eerie feeling of loneli-
ness, which camping somehow does not give. The
great doors are bolted and barred, the watch-dog is on
duty in the court, which the moonlight makes almost
as light as day, brightening the treasured but miserable
garden with its tender touch. All is made perfectly
safe. Yet the thought recurs insistently, what could
one man do, should anything rouse the hundreds of
half-wild Arabs in the village out of their ordinary
quiet hatred ^ A life of this sort is only possible
where the fascination of the East is strongly felt ; but
for a poor woman like this, out of sympathy with
the country, its people and their ways, it is little short
of martyrdom.
Quiet is not a feature of the nights at El Djem.
Every house in the village owns several dogs, and the
only dog that does not seem to bark all night is the dog
at the school. As for the cocks, they begin to crow at
bed-time and keep it up till morning. Jackals and an
occasional hyena swell the chorus. Then in the small
hours the diligence arrives, with rattle and rumble
along the road and a thunderous knocking at the
great door, till the whole household is awake to give
it welcome.
The motor appears at the respectable hour of nine in
the morning, and manages with infinite cleverness to
catch the mid-day train to Kairouan, although it should
203
Algeria and Tunis
have started before the time at which the motor arrives.
There is so much leisure and so little punctuality that,
with friendly assistance, seats are taken, luggage
registered, and lunch purchased before the train finally
starts.
204
THE SACRED CITY
205
EVENING, KAIROUAN
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CHAPTER XIII
THE SACRED CITY
Seven visits to the sacred city of Kairouan are equivalent
for the devout Mussulman to one pilgrimage to Mecca.
A pleasant alternative for those who wish to gain a high
degree of sanctity at a small cost, for since the railway
simplified the journey there are neither terrors nor
difficulties to overcome.
Picturesque hill towns are passed on the way, and
also the first of the chain of Chotts^ or shallow salt lakes,
almost or quite dry in summer, strange reminders of
the time when the Mediterranean penetrated the desert
as far as Biskra. Plans have often been proposed for
letting in the water again from the Gulf of Gabes to
the Ziban. But though in some ways this might
bring added prosperity, in others the change of climate
would probably spell ruin. The date harvest at Gafsa
and Gabes would be spoilt, and most likely that of
Biskra and Tougourt as well.
The Tunisian oases vie with, if they do not surpass,
those of Algeria, but they are little visited, partly
because it is not the fashion, but much more in con-
207
Algeria and Tunis
sequence of the discomforts to be faced, as travellers
are mostly dependent on their own resources, a native
fonduky or the kindness of some French officer. The
fonduks by all accounts are intolerably dirty, and
sleep has to be snatched during a lull in the noisy talk,
in the corner of a crowded space, with a portmanteau
for a pillow, the mud floor and a rug by way of bed.
No food or refreshment are offered except coffee. The
inns when they exist give rise to pathetic tales of food
and dirt. Birds apparently made of india-rubber, quite
black and utterly impervious to the blunt knives, pose
as chicken, the eggs are of untold age, and the bread
sour. Cous-couss is the best thing ; it is not at all a bad
variety of stew when well made, rather like curry, but
laid on a bed of semolina instead of rice, with a very
hot, piquant sauce. The number of ingredients is
always rather mysterious, and when ill-made it is
horribly greasy.
These various drawbacks make even the excursion
to the fine Roman ruins of Sbeitla too uncomfortable
without a camp, as it is a two days' ride from Kairouan.
The road is supposed to be fit for carriages, but owing
to the badness of the track, a strong country cart
cannot stand the strain, and is always coming to grief,
or losing a wheel at critical moments, so that a rider
finds he has chosen the better part. Then it is rather
a shock to be told on the return journey, with many
miles yet to travel and darkness coming on apace, that
no Frenchman considers this district safe without a
revolver loaded and ready to hand.
208
The Sacred City-
Altogether it is decidedly annoying as well as
disappointing, because drawings and photographs of
curious places and buildings make the longing for
adventure in the wilder regions so strong as to be
almost unbearable. There are houses at Tozeur with
decorative facades, built with raised designs in pro-
jecting sun-dried brick. At Matmata and Doui'rat the
Troglodytes dwell in rock-hewn cells, forming hill
cities cut out of, not built on, castellated crags, whilst
at Medenine the houses are built one above the other,
five stories high, with doors that serve as windows.
Most of these houses are reached by climbing up on
jutting stones built into the wall, which, even with the
assistance of a cord, needs a steady head, though a few
have the luxury of an outside staircase.
There is great consolation in the thought that until
quite lately Kairouan itself was almost a sealed book,
for travellers could only see it when provided with
an escort and a special permission, and these were
not sufficient to admit them to the mosques, or to
protect them from insult or stones in the streets, so
that little joy came from a visit even so late as 1888.
Now the nervous need have no misgivings, as the
train crawls like a snail over the barren waste, redeemed
from desolation by the flowers, more glorious than ever
in contrast with the monotonous brown-hued desert
framed by distant mountains.
The old walls that encircle Kairouan, with their
tones of dusty brown, blend with the plain they rise
from, and would be invisible at a little distance were it
209 27
Algeria and Tunis
not for the white minarets and domes within their
bounds, which stand out clear-cut as a cameo against
the blue of the sky, the purple of the hills, and the
faded tints of the soil.
Tradition says that in the year fifty-five of the
Hegira (675 a.d.) this was a vast forest, almost
impenetrable, and full of wild and terrible beasts of prey
and still more alarming serpents, huge and poisonous.
Hither, surrounded by his conquering host, came the
warrior-saint, Sidi Okba. Here he planted his lance in
the ground, saying, " This is your ' Kairwan ' " (caravan,
or resting-place). After which he caused fifteen chosen
men, the companions of the Prophet who were with the
army, to come together for prayer. Then advancing he
called out, " Serpents and savage beasts we are the
companions of the blessed Prophet ; retire ! for we
intend to dwell here." At the sound of his inspired
voice they fled in a body with their young, and took
refuge in the wilderness, whilst the woods that had
been their home vanished also. Moreover, it is said
that this miracle so astounded the Berbers who dwelt
in that land, that they were one and all converted at
once, and further it is alleged that it is for this reason
that the holy city continues to stand in the midst of a
desert unto this day.
Mohammed is said to have taught that there are
in this world three gardens of Paradise, four cities,
and four oratories. The three gardens include Mecca
and Jerusalem, whilst Kairouan is the best known of the
oratories or gates of heaven.
210
LA GRANDE RUE, KAIROUAN
The Sacred City
Kairouan has evidently no doubt about its own
sanctity, and tries to live up to its reputation, for it is
most serious, full to overflowing with mosques and
Zaou'ias, or tomb - mosques, which are often both
oratories and schools.
An air of austerity seems part of the religious
character of this place, as yet untouched by the stir
and onward rush of modern life. The easy ways of
Tunis, the smooth, smiling faces of the Moorish dandy,
the wealth of harmonious colour, are not found here.
The men are of a grave, stern race, not given to bright
garments, but content, as a rule, with white, or tones of
brown. A woman is a rare apparition in the streets,
and her closely shrouded form in its sombre black
reminds one of a misericordia brother in Tuscany, —
though she, poor thing, scurries away as if in search of
a hiding-place instead of boldly begging an alms.
The main street, or Zankat Touila, runs from the
Bab Djelladin to the Porte de Tunis. Though unusu-
ally wide and nearly straight it has a charm of line
that makes the irregular grouping of minarets, mosques,
and domes, set as they are amidst a tangle of booths,
shops, and balconies, into a bewildering succession of
ready-made pictures. Both minarets and domes are as
white as white can be, like those of any and every city
in Tunisia, nevertheless Kairouan, whitewashed as it may
be with the same brush, has a few little peculiarities to
distinguish it from its fellows. Some of the minarets,
for instance, severe to plainness in their construction,
have for their sole decoration an inscription in pro-
211
Algeria and Tunis
jecting bricks, carried round all four sides, setting forth
the creed of the Mohammedans, " There is no God
but God ; Mohammed is the messenger of God."
Many of the domes, again, differ from those in other
places by being fluted, which not only gives variety to
the surface, but also a peculiarly graceful curve.
The well-house of El Barota stands in this street ;
outside it resembles a marabout, but instead of the
tomb within there is the sacred well, the only well in
Kairouan. The water is brackish in taste, and was
discovered after the orthodox legendary method in
time of need, by a greyhound scratching up the soil.
To add to its sanctity it is said to be in touch in some
mysterious way with the still more sacred well of
Zemzem at Mecca. This underground communication
is in such perfect working order that a pilgrim who
lost his drinking-vessel by dropping it into the fountain
at Mecca, found it again, on his return to his native
city, in the waters of El Barota.
The entrance to the bazaars is through a gateway
decorated with black lines, whilst black and white are
used alternately round the horse-shoe arch. Inside the
bazaar is simple — a whitewashed tunnel, dimly lighted
from above, with the usual square, cavernous recesses.
Shoemakers, coppersmiths, and tailors are to be found,
the latter have already succumbed to the fascinations of
a sewing-machine — one of the first signs that the thin
end of the wedge of so-called improvement is being
driven in. Most of the shops, however, are given up
to carpets, the well - known industry of the place.
212
CARPET-MAKING
The Sacred City
Here, though there is some dread of the coming of
anihne dyes and other European enormities, the work
is still carried on, as it always has been in hundreds of
homes, principally by the women and children. The
designs and methods are matters of tradition, vary in
different families, and are handed down like heirlooms
from generation to generation.
It is purely a home industry; there is nothing of the
factory or workshop about it as yet. The loom, large
as it is, with its heavy beams and many cords, takes a
good deal of space in the characteristic narrow room,
yet it is set up in the guest-chamber opening out of the
quiet court. It is placed as near the door as may be,
for the sake of light and air, the windows being small
and of little account. It casts a dark shadow over the
divan in the alcove, which in Kairouan is often of
wood elaborately turned or carved, gilt and painted in
brilliant colours. The mother sits and works steadily ;
the babies play with her skeins and balls of wool ;
the husband dozes or meditates ; other women come
and chat, and prepare vegetables, though the cooking is
done in another room on the other side of the court-
yard. All the time the threads are being deftly tied and
knotted, clipped with big scissors, and beaten down at
intervals with much energy and a heavy iron comb,
shaped like a hoe. The carpet grows visibly in a
rather mysterious way, as often there is no pattern
to be seen, the worker apparently evolving the design
out of her inner consciousness, which accounts for the
delightful irregularity and vagaries of hand-made rugs.
213
Algeria and Tunis
The maze of the narrow streets is more puzzling
than usual ; there is a mean and squalid look, a hopeless
sameness about them that makes threading one's way
difficult at first. The great Mosque has to be sought
carefully, although from outside the town it is the most
conspicuous object. Massive walls, huge buttresses,
and towers with fluted domes, protect the inner court,
which is entered by gateways under the towers. Vast-
ness and simplicity as befits its name are the keynotes
of the building, the slight efforts at decoration lost in
the blinding whiteness that is almost unbearable in those
hours when the noonday sun beats down upon the city.
Sidi Okba is said to have traced out the foundation
of the mosque himself, which he called the Mosque of
Olives, and on this ground, already held sacred, he
caused prayers to be celebrated before the work of
building was even begun. The great difficulty was to
find the true position of the Mihrab^ the niche which
indicates the direction of Mecca. In all other mosques
the Imaum who leads the prayers turns slightly to one
side or the other of this Mecca niche, to show that the
direction is not absolutely correct. Here, however,
he stands perfectly straight, because the Mihrab was
miraculously revealed to Sidi Okba in this wise.
Wearied out by long prayer he fell asleep, and in his
dreams an angel appeared unto him saying : *' Thou
favourite of the Ruler of the Universe, thy prayer is
heard. Behold, when day dawns, thou shalt take thy
standard and bear it upon thy shoulder, then shalt thou
hear a voice crying before thee Allah Akhar (' God is
214
MOSQUE OF SIDI OKBA, KAIROUAN
i
trr.ritAtmm,'
mmm^
The Sacred City
great '). No ear but thine will hear this voice. Follow,
and where the cry ceases, in that place shalt thou build
the Mihrahr
At daybreak Sidi Okba heard a cry, and when he
demanded of his companions whether they heard ought,
they answered, " Nothing." *' It is the command of
God, the All Powerful," he said, and raising the
standard he followed the voice till the cry ceased.
Immediately he planted the standard, saying, " Here
is our Mihraby
The minaret stands at one end of an immense
courtyard, partly paved with Roman tombstones and
surrounded by a double cloister. Underneath the
court is a vast cistern to hold a reserve of water. At
the opposite end, under a fine colonnade, in which
Roman columns are found as usual, are the nine great
doors of the mosque. These doors are of good old
Moorish design, worn with age and softened in colour,
but still truly magnificent.
The sudden change from the glare outside to the
darkness within transforms the mosque into a forest,
mysterious and vast, glowing with rich colour beneath
the gloom. And indeed it is a forest of stone, for
there are seventeen naves and who knows how many
columns. The columns are antique and of fine
marbles, onyx, and porphyry, rubbed by the shoulders
of the Faithful till they shine. The capitals are also
spoils from other buildings, Roman or Byzantine, and
one there is of a design so unusual as to be considered
unique in its treatment of plant form. Matting is
215
Algeria and Tunis
swathed round the base of the columns and covers the
floor with its cool cleanliness. The great horse-shoe
arches are whitewashed, the roof is rather plain, with
heavy beams like a network between the columns. In
the central nave hang some wonderful old lustres, with
myriads of tiny lamps.
Before the Mihrab is the one incongruous and
tawdry decoration — a crystal chandelier, but the darkness
happily hides it, and prevents its interfering with the
general impression of stately simplicity.
The Mihraby with its inlaid work and tiles, its
coloured marbles, graceful columns, and finely cut
capitals, is worthy of the shrine, and shares the admira-
tion of the pilgrims with an exquisitely carved Mimbar,
or pulpit, polished and worn with age, which is said to
be made of wood brought from Baghdad on purpose.
Most of the pilgrims strive to squeeze themselves
between two closely wedded columns standing near by,
because, so the old Sheikh said, " those who can pass
through this narrow portal will also be able to enter
Paradise." Besides this appeal to the future, there is
the less romantic inducement that the passage of the
pillars is a certain cure for rheumatism. Whichever
reason prevails, no one minds taking ofl^ cloaks and
burnouses and then trying hard to wriggle through.
It is a less difficult feat to accomplish than the trial of
truth between two similar pillars in the mosque of
'Amr at Cairo.
A few years ago, strangers of an alien faith had to
content themselves with a bare glance at the outside of
216
The Sacred City
this famous mosque as they rode past. Now a solitary
Christian, having duly deposited a pair of European
shoes amongst the Oriental slippers at the door, may
enter boldly, rest and dream the day away, tranquil and
alone, without let or hindrance. No rude word will
be spoken, nor will angry looks trouble or annoy.
Nothing will disturb the quiet, for the pilgrims wander
softly to and fro, making no sound on the matted floor
with their slipperless feet. Now and again the voice
of a reader echoes through the silence of this house of
prayer, and occasionally a man, bent on asking questions
and trying to pick up a few words of useful French,
will take his place on the matting beside the stranger,
or, if sketching is going on, a small boy will come and
kneel for hours absorbed in wonder, watching each
movement of the brush, his eager face almost resting
on the paper. Yet perhaps this boy's own father was
one of those who indulged in throwing stones at the
Roumis less than twenty years ago.
These peaceful ways are the direct result of war.
The Sacred City alone resented the coming of the
French sufficiently to resist in arms, and therefore alone
pays the penalty of its daring in being forced to throw
open the mosques and holy places to the tread of the
Infidel.
The upper gallery of the minaret commands a wide
view over a scene curious enough to attract those
already accustomed to Eastern cities. The houses are
more like cubes than ever, and lie so close together that
their flat roofs seem to form one continuous terrace,
217 28
Algeria and Tunis
broken only by domes and minarets. Every house is
square, with a central court. The court and the house-
tops are the women's domain ; etiquette does not permit
a man to enjoy the air on his own roof, but if business
calls him there, he must send warnings to his neigh-
bours, so that their womenfolk may withdraw from
courts and terraces and seek refuge indoors.
Ouaint and characteristic as the outlook from the
minaret undeniably is, yet there is no doubt that its
own picturesque outline adds much to the charm of the
view from other housetops. The sturdy tower with its
warm tones has a look of strength that matches the
equally massive walls of the city, and suggests a watch-
tower crowned by the white galleries of a minaret.
All round the city walls, towers and battlements
dating from the fifteenth century draw a strong divid-
ing line between the white houses and the sandy waste,
still dreary, desolate, and treeless as in the time of
Okba.
The breach made by the French in 1 8 8 1 is still left,
partly as a warning, and partly because it is now used
instead of the old Tunis gate on account of its greater
width, and also to avoid an awkward turn ; for, like
many Moorish gateways, there is a double turn in the
thickness of the wall, to assist in keeping out the foe.
With this exception, the walls and gates are perfect as
in the days of old : perfect not only in preservation
but in form. But of all the gates none is so fine as
this same Porte de Tunis with its double arch. Both
facades are remarkable for the skill shown in the use
218
MOORISH GATEWAY, KAIROUAN
The Sacred City
of black and white marble as decoration. Deep
shadow throws a mysterious gloom over the interior of
the gate, now a picturesque Souk with an arched roof,
beneath which many merchants spread out their wares.
Outside the gate, more stalls and booths nestle
against the walls, and the large open space beyond is
crowded with all the bustle and confusion of a market.
Men come and go, or gather in wide circles round the
snake charmers and story-tellers. Horses and donkeys
furtively steal a meal from the piles of grain and
fodder. Camels snarl and growl whilst men pack
burdens on their unwilling backs, as the caravans
prepare to start on their journey. Other camels hop
about on three legs, the fourth being doubled back and
bound up in what looks a cruel fashion, but which the
Arabs declare to be quite comfortable, and the only
effective way to prevent their straying.
Beyond the market, again, are some curious reservoirs,
called the Bassins des Aghlabites^ which receive water
from the Oued Merguelli in time of flood ; they were
probably constructed by Ziad el Allah, who restored the
great Mosque. \
Still further on, amongst hedges of prickly pears,
or figues de Barbaric^ rises the mosque of Sidi Sahab,
the barber, the rival to the mosque of Sidi Okba, both
as regards sanctity and beauty.
A square minaret slightly decorated with coloured
tiles is surrounded by an apparently uninteresting pile
of white buildings and a dome, but these walls conceal
a series of halls and cloistered courts, full of exquisite
219
Algeria and Tunis
Moorish work worthy of the Alhambra, though, alas !
like the Alhambra they have suffered somewhat at the
hands of the restorer, with his distressing want of taste
in colour.
Roman columns support the arches in the quiet
courts, the floors are paved with marble, tiles of rich
design Hne the walls, the light filters through coloured
glass, set jewel-like in tiny windows, and the stucco
work adds to the whole effect a touch of light and
grace.
The tomb-mosque itself is a domed building of no
great size, where behind an open-work screen lies the
sarcophagus in which reposes the body of Abou Zemaa
el Beloui, the companion and, as some suppose, the
barber of the Prophet. Carpets and embroideries cover
this tomb, numbers of lamps and ostrich eggs are sus-
pended before it, and all round are ranged quantities of
flags, the standards and colours of Islam. Tradition
says, that during his life this singular man carried three
hairs from the Prophet's beard — one under his tongue,
another next his heart, and the third on his right arm.
These three precious hairs are now united in a silken
sachet placed on the dead man's breast, and whether the
reputation of the saint or these relics of the Prophet
have the greater power in drawing pilgrims to the shrine,
is a doubtful question.
Delicate finish, suited to its smallness of scale, makes
a yet more perfect shrine of the tiny forecourt, and
dome over the tomb of another Marabout, Sidi Abid el
Ghariani. Of all the Moorish work in the city, this
220
THE MOSQUE OF THE THREE DOORS, KAIROUAN
The Sacred City
Zaou'ia is perhaps the gem — at any rate the hand of
time has touched it lightly, so that nothing has been
done to spoil its charm of colour.
Quite other considerations make it worth while to go
on pilgrimage to the Mosque of the Swords, though its
only beauty Hes in the distant effect of its seven fluted
domes. It is dedicated to a comparatively modern
saint, who had great influence in Kairouan. His name
was Sidi Amer Abbada, and he began life as a black-
smith. To astonish his admirers he made, and they
now say he used, gigantic swords, covered with inscrip-
tions, one of which prophesies the coming of the
French, His pipes are the pipes of a nightmare — too
huge for mortal man to smoke. As for the colossal
bronze anchors he is said to have carried on his
shoulders from Porto Farina, quite unaided and alone,
are they not now reposing in a courtyard close by ?
There the sceptical can go and see for themselves and
come away abashed, saying, " Truly this was a great
Marabout,"
The Djama Thelata Biban, or Mosque of the Three
Doors, is noteworthy because of its great age (some six
or seven hundred years old) and also for the decorative
value of its facade. The plan is not in the least original,
the outline is elementary — a square block with an equally
square minaret beside it. But it is the treatment of the
flat surface that is remarkable. The upper part of the
front is shaded by a tiled roof supported by wooden
brackets, old and mellow in tone. Underneath comes a
broad space of golden stone, adorned by alternate bands
221
Algeria and Tunis
of raised inscriptions in Cufic characters, and fragments
of Roman carved work. Below this all is white, the
surface broken by three archways with old capitals and
columns, that cast fascinating shadows on the three
brilliant green doors that give the mosque its name.
Coloured tiles in the same way relieve the whiteness and
add to the charm of the minaret. Unfortunately the
building is badly placed across the end of a dull street,
so that it cannot be seen at a picturesque angle.
The pleasures of Kairouan are by no means exhausted
by merely walking through the streets, visiting the
mosques, and wandering outside the walls, not even by
watching the life of the people either out of doors or at
the cafes.
Sunsets as beautiful as those of Biskra may be
enjoyed from the roof. Afterglows, with a depth and
glory of red and crimson unrivalled even in Egypt,
created by the magic atmosphere of the dry and some-
what dreary plain, which they transform into a land of
mystery and romance.
When the moon rises, another scene of enchantment
is revealed. The pale moonlight of our island home is
unknown in Africa : here the contrast is wonderful, the
brilliance positively startles. The first impression on
leaving a lighted room is that it has been snowing
heavily. Then gradually one begins to grasp the extra-
ordinary depth of the shadows, the absolute clearness of
each outline, the suffused glow, the positive warmth
that throws such glamour over each common thing.
Last of all, one sees that in this moonlight there is
222
The Sacred City-
colour, soft and low in tone, but yet distinctly recognis-
able.
As a little change, or perhaps because sunset and
moonlight might be thought dull, the authorities kindly
decreed that a military tattoo should be held. Gay
sounds of martial music, the light tramp of marching
feet, the hum of many voices, drew every one to the
balcony, to find the street bright with flaming torches.
The lights flared up, casting weird shadows over the
crowd of eager faces as the wind blew the flames to and
fro. The gay uniforms, the lightly stepping, almost
dancing feet of the soldiers as they marked time, con-
trasted strangely with the statuesque pose of the sober
citizens, or the wild unkempt figures of men from some
distant oasis, or nomads from the desert. How they all
enjoyed the show ! — soldiers as much as any one else,
and the band seemingly most of all.
The terrible rites of the A'lssaouas may be witnessed
every night. The sect is powerful in Kairouan, has its
own mosque, and they welcome all those whose curiosity
is strong enough to overcome their feelings of horror
or of self-contempt for wishing to look on at such
doings.
The Marabout Aissa (a name which means Jesus),
who came from Morocco, was once wandering in the
desert, far from home and friends, and suffered much
from hunger. In fact he would have died of starvation
had he not been endued with miraculous power, and this
enabled him to eat all kinds of impossible food, including
snakes, scorpions, fire, glass, and leaves of prickly pear,
223
Algeria and Tunis
spines and all. His followers imitate him, or pretend
to do so, to this day, having previously worked them-
selves into a state of frenzy after the manner of the
Howling Dervishes. Their feats in this direction, and
also with swords and daggers run through their bodies,
seem so hideous and disgusting even in the telling, that
one wonders how any Europeans can bear to see the
sight. Yet numbers do, and get so excited that they
forget to be horrified or feel sick till they get home.
A wedding feast is a very different ceremony, so that
to be invited to see one in old-world Kairouan is a
piece of real good-fortune. After dinner the Arab
servants hurried us off, with two French officers and
their wives, through the still marvel of a moonlight
night. The music of the tom-toms and the trilling
cries, half-shrill, half-sweet, of rejoicing women, could
be heard long before the house was reached.
The outer gate, decked with boughs, stood wide open,
though as yet only the ladies were allowed to enter and
cross the courtyard to an inner court full of flickering
lights and a bewildering number of restless, ever-moving
women. Gay as butterflies they fluttered round us,
whilst with pretty gentle ways they patted and stroked
our hands and clothes, pulled, pushed, and led us in and
out of three tiny rooms, showing us all the preparations,
the embroidered linen and hangings, the lights, the robes,
the state bedstead, and, last of all, within a circle of elder
women seated on the floor, the bride herself. Demure,
a little wistful, with a studiously impassive expression,
in all her finery of silk and veils, bedizened with jewels,
224
A DESERT AFTERGLOW
The Sacred City
she posed like an image, aloof and very lonely in the
crowd.
Then suddenly the cry was heard, " The bridegroom
comes," and in the twinkling of an eye we found our-
selves alone in an empty court, the women had all
vanished, though how they packed themselves into those
wee rooms was a mystery.
Our loneliness was only momentary, for the men
swept in like a flood to the sounds of the usual wild
music and much banging of tom-toms. Then a group
of A'lssaouas began their prayer or incantations, swaying
and shouting as they swung themselves backwards and
forwards. Happily the bridegroom was impatient, and
stopped the performance before any horrors occurred.
Whereupon the men were all hustled off the premises,
the French officers very reluctantly going with the rest.
As the last man disappeared, out fluttered all the butter-
flies again. It was the woman's hour, and they made
the most of it. They enthroned the bridegroom, a
handsome young man, on a dais, covered his head with
a beautiful new burnous, arranged to fall like a veil on
either side of his face, which it almost concealed. Like
the bride, he was preternaturally solemn, and sat there
with his eyes shut, pretending to see nothing, whilst
thoroughly enjoying many furtive peeps.
Then the revels began, pretty girls danced round
him laughing, with lighted candles held on high. With
a certain quaint grace they mingled merciless chaff with
all manner of elfish tricks, pinching and giving him
saucy kisses, deceiving him with pretences that his bride
225 29
Algeria and Tunis
was coming, even going so far as to play at being the
bride themselves, and doing their utmost to make him
laugh. Only Rembrandt could have done justice to
the delightful effects of light and shade, the marvellous
play of colour. The girls, with their bright beauty
enhanced by the quaint horned caps, the gay silk veils,
and chains and jewels gleaming under the flickering
lights, the lace sleeves falling away from their bare arms,
and their lithe, graceful forms wrapped in bright-hued
silk, were a perfect picture.
The bridegroom bore all the teasing with a stolid
countenance and a mock air of meekness — it is considered
most unlucky to smile — but at last he received his
reward. The real bride stood before her lord, veiled,
with her head slightly bowed. He rose, lifted her veil,
and kissed her. The little ceremony was at an end.
226
Index
Ain Tunga, 129
Aissaouas, 201, 223
Algiers, 3-33, 38, 40, 42, 195
Arab Cemetery, 25
Bois de Boulogne, 31
Carpet school, 8
Casbah, 5, 31
Cathedral, 33
Chateau Hydra, 3 i
Colonne Voirol, 27
Embroidery school, 7
Fort des vingt quatre heures, 33
Jardin d'Essai, 20, 25
Koubba, 31
Marabout of Sidi Noumann, 27
Moorish houses, 7
Moorish villas, 23
Mosque of Sidi Abder Rahman, 9
Museum, 33
Notre Dame d'Afrique, 31
Penon, 12
Tiger Gateway, 12
Atlas Mountains, 130
Aures Mountains, 74, 78, 83, 95, 130
Batna, 42, 93, 94, 98
Belisarius, 109, 185
Berbers, 78, 82
Bislcra, 42, 44, 58-89, 207, 222
The races, 84
Bizerta, 189
Bone, 46
Bougie, 46
Bou Kornel'ne, 183, 194
Bouzareah, 27, 28
Bruce, 98, 103, 134
Carthage, 127, 141, 154, I73,'i79-i89,
199
Aqueduct, 185
Byrsa, 182, 189
Cathedral, 184
Chapel of St. Louis, 184
Museum, 182
Punic cisterns, 184
Punic tombs, 186
Roman amphitheatre, 186
Cervantes, 32
Charles V., 142, 173
Chehoud cl Batal, 128
Cherchell, 30, 126
Chotts, 207
Claudian, 30
Col de Sfa, 83
Constantine, 107-115, 195
Baths of Sidi Me9id, 1 15
Bridge of el Kantara, 108
Casbah, 112
Cathedral, 114
Chemin des Touristes, 112
Gorge of the Roumel, no
Mansoura, 1 10
Palace of the Bey, 115
Sidi Rached, 11 1
Constantine the Great, 108
Creuly (General), 125
Damremont (General), 109
De Bourmont (General), 30
Dely Ibrahim, 20
Dey of Algiers, 5, 11, 32
Dido, 180
Diocletian, 132
227
Algeria and Tunis
Djebel Ahmar Kreddou, 8 1
Djebel Chenoua, 29
Djebel Djouggar, 185
Dougga, 126-135
Bab el Roumi, 134
Mausoleum, 135
Temple of Celestis, 133
Theatre, 134
Douirat, 209
El Ariana, 173
EI Bahira, 173, 174, 183
El Biar, 17, 2i, 28
El Djem, 196-203
El Guerrah, 40
El Kahina, 197, 200
El Kantara, 43-54, 67, 75, 78, 130
Exmouth (Lord), 1 1
Gab^s, 207
Gafsa, 207
Gates of the desert, 43
Gildon (Count), 97
Gordian, 200
Goums, 87
Hadrian, 185
Hjedo, 32
Hamilcar Barca, 181
Hammamet, 195
Hammam Meskoutine, 119-126, 198
Le mariage Arabe, 122
The hot springs, 120
The subterranean lake, 123
Hammam R'hira, 121
Hammam Salahin, 83
Hannibal, 181
Hanno, i8i
Hercha, 195
Himilco, 181
Honorius, 97
Julius Caesar, 108
Justinian, 108
Kabylia, 18, 78
Kairouan, 153, 207-226
Bab Djelladin, 211
Mosque of the Barber, 219
Mosque of the Olives, 214
Mosque of the Swords, 221
Mosque of the Three Doors, 221
Kairouan —
Porte de Tunis, 211, 218
Well of el Barota, 212
Zankat Touila, 211
Zaouia Sidi Abid el Ghariani, 220
Khroumirie, 129
Lactantius, 188
Laghouat, 86
La Goulette, 173, 183, 189
La Malga, 185
La Marsa, 173, i88
Lambessa, 95
Lavigerie (Cardinal), 73, 184
Lucius Munatius Gallus, 97
Mago, 182
Masinissa, 108
Matmata, 209
Maximin, 200
Medenine, 209
Medjerda (River), 127, 133
Medjez el Bab, 127, 135
Micipsa, 107
Mohammed, 66, 154, 156, 189, 210,
212
Mustapha (Lower), 19, 25
Mustapha (Upper), 5, 17, 19, 21, 27, 39
Nero, 97
Optatus (Bishop), 97
Oran, 33
Ouled Nails, 88
Perr^gaux (General), 109
Playfair, 134
Pliny, 200
Ptolemy, 96, 200
Robson (John), 24
Ruspina, 195
Sahara, 50, 57, 61, 72, 80, 83
St. Arcadius, 30
St. Augustine, 97, 132, 188
St. Cyprian, 187, 188
St. Felicita, 187
St. Louis of France, 183, 1S4, 188
St. Marcian, 30
St. Nemphanion, i86
St. Perpetua, 187
228
Index
St. Vincent de Paul, 143
Sallust, 108, 195
San Geronimo, 32
Sbeitla, 208
Scipio, 179
Sedjounii (Lake), 173
Sfax, 197
Shaw, 98, 109
Sidi Bou Said, 183, 188
Sidi Mohammed Bou Kobrin, 26
Sidi Okba, 82, 210, 214
Sidi Okba (village), 80
Sophonisba, 108
Sousse, 193-197
Staoueli, 30
Syphax, 107
Tacitus, 97
Tebessa, 126
Teboursouk, 130
Tertullian, 188
Testour, 128
Tibilis, 124
Timgad, 93-104, 134
Arch of Trajan, 103
Baths, 102
Forum, 100
Market, 10 1
Museum, 99
Salle de reunion, 100
Via Decumanus Maximus, 100
Tipaza, 30, 126
Tomb of the Christian, 29
Touaregs, 78, 85, 88
Tougourt, 84, 88, 207
Tozeur, 209
Trajan, 97, 195
Tunis, II, 139-175, 195, 196
Bab Djazira, 143, 171
Bab Djedid, 170
Bab el Fellah, 172
Bab el Khadra, 172
Bab Souika, 143, 168
Bardo, 163
Belvedere, 172
Casbah, 141, 173
Dar el Bey, 153, 163
Hara (Jewish quarter), 164
Harem, 160
Medina, 143, 168
Mosque el Zitouna, 154
Mosque Sidi Ben Arous, 141
Mosque Sidi Ben Ziad, 141, 153
Mosque Sidi Mahrez, 143
Place Halfaouine, 166, 168
Porte de France, 144, 173
Souk des EtofFes, 146
Souk des Femmes, 150
Souk el Attarin, 148
Souk el Belat, 152
Souk el Blagdia, 149
Souk el Hout, 164
Souk el Trouk (tailors), 150
Utica, 141, 173, 180, 189
Vandals, 78, 109, 142, 185
Varro, 182
Zaghouan, 172, 185
Ziban, 8 i, 207
THE END
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