So this fertile North Africa, through history the shuttle-cock of Asia and Europe, with an illimitable hinterland of “rather light soil,” to quote the words of a statesman who had little sympathy with African conquest, became French because an Algerian Dey struck a consul with his fan. This incident arose—as modern international incidents frequently arise—out of a financial dispute. Certain Jews of Algiers had a claim against France for corn supplied during the Napoleonic wars. The Dey pressed this claim as his own; and being dissatisfied with the delay in settlement he made a violent scene with the consul, “et s’oublia jusqu’à le toucher de son chasse-mouches.” Apologies were demanded and refused, and for three years, from 1827 to 1830, France endeavoured to blockade the port of Algiers. The Dey Hussein continued obdurate. So little repentant was he that when the Provence entered the port in 1829, having on board a French admiral, charged to make a last effort at negotiation (for the blockade was costing seven millions of francs a year and effecting nothing), all the batteries opened fire on her. Even now the French ministry was reluctant to make war, and proposed to the Sultan of Turkey that Mehemet Ali, Pasha of Egypt, should bring the Barbary states under his rule. The Sultan refused his authorization, and an expedition was decided on. France was destined to become an African power, “un peu malgré elle.”
The naval authorities were strongly opposed to a military expedition; it would, they declared, be absolutely impracticable to land an army with its indispensable materiel; and former experience, especially the failure of Charles V, appeared to support their view. But the French Cabinet decided to make the attempt. With the exception of England, the European powers were complaisant. England demanded explanations as to the object of the preparations. M. de Polignac in a circular note explained that his master desired only to suppress piracy, slavery and the tribute paid by Christian nations to the Dey. England was not satisfied and asked for a formal renunciation of a policy of annexation. The President of the Council replied to the British ambassador that the King was not led by any sentiment of ambition, that he was not aware that he had need to ask the permission of anyone to avenge an insult to his flag; that he had already made known his intentions, and that his word ought to be sufficient guarantee. England returned to the charge. M. de Polignac then produced a second circular note in which he declared that “if Algiers fell into the power of the French army the King would examine in conjunction with his allies what new order of things it would be fitting to establish for the benefit of Christianity.” England complained that this note contained no formal engagement not to keep Algiers; the French minister put an end to the discussion by declaring that the King’s communications required no further development.
It is interesting to recall these diplomatic amenities; mutatis mutandis they bear strong resemblance to certain international passages at the time of the English occupation of Egypt. But France does not seem to have given any undertaking that her operations should be only temporary.
If his memoirs are to be trusted, Admiral d’Haussez, the French Minister of Marine, lacked the diplomatic suavity of his colleague. Even a sailor’s bluffness hardly covers the tone of a declaration he made to the British ambassador. “The King wishes the expedition to be made, and it will be made. France laughs at England. She will do in this instance what she likes, and will put up with neither control nor opposition. We are no longer in the days when you dictated laws to Europe. Your influence rested on your wealth, your ships and your habit of domination. All that is past. I suppose you are not willing to compromise what remains of your influence by going beyond threats. But if you wish to do so, I will give you the means. Our fleet is already assembled at Toulon, and will be ready to sail in the last days of May. It will call at the Balearic Isles, and it will land the troops to the west of Algiers. If the fancy takes you, you may meet it.”
France had her way without interference; the admiral’s prophecy (recorded after the event) was fulfilled to the letter. An army of 35,000 men under General Bourmont was transported in 300 vessels, and disembarked with no great difficulty at Sidi Ferruch, about fifteen miles to the west of Algiers, on June 14th, 1830. The landing was unopposed, Hussein having expected it to take place to the east of the town and collected his army there. A few days later the Dey’s son-in-law and general, Ibrahim, came into conflict with the French troops and was defeated. A second attack had the same result. The French army marched on Algiers, laid siege to Fort l’Empereur, so called because it stood on the heights above the town where Charles V had pitched his tent. The French soldiers knew only one Emperor, and promptly called it Fort Napoleon. The Turkish garrison blew up the fort and fled, and Algiers lay at the mercy of the invaders.
It appears that Hussein was ready to resist to the death, and sooner than submit to blow up the city. But disaffection appeared among his troops, who sent an emissary to Bourmont, offering the Dey’s head as a token of conciliation. The Dey then decided to treat; he was willing to make every reparation for the insult offered to the consul, to abandon his pecuniary claims and to pay the cost of the war. But Bourmont would have nothing but the surrender of the city and its forts. The Dey was to be at liberty to retire to some place to be fixed on, with his family and his riches. As regards the inhabitants,—“l’exercice de la religion mussulmane restera libre. La liberté des habitants de toutes les classes, leur religion, leurs propriétés, leur commerce, leur industrie ne recevront aucune atteinte, leurs femmes seront respectées: le général en chef en prend l’engagement sur l’honneur.” These terms were accepted; the French army entered Algiers on July 5th; and it appears that the conditions were fairly well observed.
An eye-witness has described the attitude of the population. “Algiers,” he says, “on the entry of the French, did not present the sad and desolate aspect of a conquered town. The shops were closed, but the traders, seated quietly before their doors, seemed to await the moment for opening them. You met here and there groups of Turks and Moors who appeared more indifferent than alarmed. A few veiled Mohammedan women could be seen peering through the narrow windows of their dwellings; Jewish women with greater boldness filled the terraces of their houses without exhibiting any surprise at the novel spectacle. Our soldiers threw everywhere eager and curious glances, and all they saw filled them with astonishment at a city where no one seemed astonished at their presence. The resignation to the will of God which is so profoundly graven on the spirit of the Mussulman, the sentiment of France’s power, and her well-known generosity, all made for confidence; and it was soon established.”[[3]] With such ease and light-heartedness did France enter, on her career of African conquest. Her troubles were to come.
[3]. Pelissier de Reynaud, “Annales Algériennes.”
The policy to be pursued was the first of them. The expedition had achieved its punitive object, Algeria appeared to be poor and sterile, and there was much to be said for abandoning it altogether. At the other extreme was the proposal to attempt a complete and definite conquest. A middle course was adopted,—to occupy only certain important points on the coast and in the interior. It is easy to be wise after the event; our own colonial experience is full of evidence of the futility of half-measures; and we need not claim much perspicacity for observing that France missed the golden opportunity for occupying the country when the central Government, such as it was, had been destroyed. But, for all the brave words of the truculent admiral, she doubtless felt some diffidence in view of her declaration to Europe, and the continued hostility of Great Britain was not without its effect. France’s own political position, too, was in a very disordered condition. On the 18th of August a revolution took place, Louis Philippe was proclaimed King and Bourmont was recalled.
For the next ten years, from 1830 to 1840, what was known as the policy of Restricted Occupation was pursued. Certain ports on the coast were occupied—Oran, Bougie, Bône, etc.—and attempts were made to bring the plain of the Metidja under French control by placing garrisons in such towns as Medea and Blidah. The army of occupation was much reduced, and Clauzel, the general in command, endeavoured to raise native auxiliary troops, with small success. He was, at any rate, a master of bombast. Having occupied Blidah and ascended one of the passes of the Atlas, he addressed his troops: “Soldats! les feux de nos bivouacs qui, des cimes de l’Atlas, semblent dans ce moment se confondre avec la lumière des étoiles, annoncent à l’Afrique la victoire que vous venez de remporter,” etc. This pronouncement was followed by the withdrawal of the garrison and a hasty retreat to Algiers. Early in 1831 Clauzel was recalled. His successors, Berthezène, the duc de Rovigo and Voirol, essaying a great undertaking with inadequate means, had no better fortune.