About Algeria: Algiers, Tlemçen, Constantine, Biskra, Timgad

by Charles Thomas-Stanford

Within a few miles of Tlemçen the scenery becomes more bold. The train climbs on to and encircles a rugged mountain range, traverses a great ravine, down which roars a graceful cascade, and emerges from a short tunnel into the noise and hubbub of Tlemçen station. The high road takes another course. It skirts the base of the rocky hills, and boldly ascends direct to the town, offering pleasant views of its walls and minarets. This is the habit of roads and railroads in many lands; the road approaches boldly to a frontal attack; the railroad creeps in stealthily or remains diffidently outside. So does the traveller by rail too often miss the beauty of the incoming.

The Arab horsemen who in the seventh century of our era rode through North Africa and carried the crescent into Europe were the élite of the race. Not only did they and their sons and those to whom they taught their faith and language and made like unto themselves conquer kingdoms and found great cities, promote commerce and achieve enormous material prosperity, but under their rule were produced works of art worthy to be ranked with the best. It is perhaps lucky that progress in these respects was accompanied, as it is generally accompanied, by a decline in martial prowess, or Western Europe might to-day be tied fast in the chains of Koran, and the women of London and Paris be veiled as was Mahomet’s wife. Among the greatest of Mohammedan cities from the eleventh century to the fifteenth Tlemçen stood high. It was peopled rather by Berbers than by Arabs of pure blood; but, at any rate, they spoke the Arab tongue, held the Arab faith and represented Arab culture at its highest excellence. In spite of the continual stress of war, it was enriched with noble buildings; it became a kind of university of Arab learning for North Africa; and it acquired the reputation and sanctity of a holy city from the selection of a neighbouring village as his last resting-place by a great Mohammedan saint.

TLEMÇEN: THE MINARET OF AGADIR

At the period of its greatness Tlemçen was a large and populous city, containing 100,000 to 150,000 inhabitants. The enceinte constructed by the French encloses a much smaller area than the old walls, of which at least two series can be traced. The present town has about 30,000 inhabitants, for the most part Arab or Jew. It does a considerable trade, especially in olive oil; but it has lost its position as the terminus of the caravan routes from the south, since the construction of the Saharan railways; it is cheaper to unload the caravans at the southern stations, and forward the goods to Oran by rail. Apart from the mosques the streets present little of interest. It is said that the French found the town almost in ruins; to-day it is a shabby fifth-rate French town. The inevitable boulevard has been constructed, and even where the old houses remain they are hidden behind a hideous modern front. The old palace of the bey has unhappily been turned into a barrack. The commercial value of antiquities as an attraction to tourists was not realized in time; it is hardly understood now. Tlemçen occupies an important strategic position, close to the Moroccan frontier, and is garrisoned by French troops. At the Hôtel de France, a somewhat ramshackle but not uncomfortable hostelry, with very obliging hosts, breakfast many officers of the garrison. The variety of uniform is great; not less great the variety of human types:—from the fair, and apparently frail, young exquisite, whose physique suggests rather the counting-house than the Sahara, to the grizzled veteran of many campaigns.

Yet the native inhabitants lend colour and interest to the mean streets. The Arabs of the better class wear a dark blue overcoat and hood, which shows off their proportions to great advantage. The women are very closely veiled, only exhibiting one eye. The children, especially the little girls not yet come to the age of veiling, are cheerful and pretty, their rosy cheeks bearing witness to the cold and bracing qualities of winter at this elevation. The Jewesses affect bright colours; and red is the colour of their mourning. An occasional stranger of fierce aspect and unusual dress attracts your attention, and your guide murmurs “Marocain.”

Some handicrafts survive in Tlemçen. The rubbishy trinkets dear to the Arab woman and the Christian tourist are laboriously turned out by Jews in the street of the goldsmiths. It is something to know that they are not made in Austria. Here and there you will catch a glimpse of an old Moor bending over a carpet loom. A good deal of leatherwork is done, and there is a brisk business in harness and saddlery. Tlemçen is no longer the terminus of the railway which runs to the frontier, but many frontiersmen come here to trade.

It is in vain to look in Tlemçen, as in other towns of Algeria, for the pure-bred Arab. Those who pass by the name are the result of a continual mixture with the indigenous races; they are Berberized Arabs or Arabized Berbers. But in many ways they compare favourably with their compatriots elsewhere. Tlemçen has preserved some of its traditions as a city of learning. Even to-day it contains a large number of educated Mussulmans and a few savants. You may see here, as often you may see in Cairo and the cities of the East, a tradesman seated in his little shop poring over an Arab text. In Algeria generally the standard of education among the natives is very low; only a small fraction of one per cent can read and write. The religion of the Tlemçen Arabs is naturally of a somewhat higher type than that of those who, knowing nothing of the law and the prophets, are content with the observance of fast days and a cult of saints mixed with all sorts of survivals of fetishism. The Arabs of Tlemçen are said to eschew fanaticism, as becomes men of learning, to regard those who are not of their faith less with hate than with pity, as having missed the true way of salvation; an attitude not uncommon in other lands. But their religion is incrusted with intense superstition. They live in constant terror of the influence of evil spirits, the Djinns, to which are attributed almost all human ills. A madman especially is said to be possessed of evil spirits, and he cannot be cured till they are cast out of him. This fear of evil spirits influences every action of their daily lives; it is the chief stimulus to devotion, for the Djinns are kept not away save by prayer and fasting.

To-day the French are masters, but the Arab in his centuries of decadence has grown used to masters. They come, and pass, and he remains. It is the will of God. The French are lenient and just masters; they provide many material advantages,—security of property, means of communication, avenues of trade. God is good. But the Arab is always waiting for something to turn up; he will be sustained in almost fruitless labour on his barren plot in the hope of finding a treasure; he will waste his scant earnings in buying favourable horoscopes from his sorcerer; and if no treasure is unearthed, and no fortune arrives, he will put it all down to some flaw in the incantations. If all fails he has at any rate said his prayers five times a day and is sure of Paradise.

Yet in his heart he is ever looking for the advent of a Messiah, of a deus ex machinâ who shall overthrow the infidel, and restore the Arab to his own again. Let France be involved in difficulties elsewhere and the events of 1870 may repeat themselves. The preaching of a holy war, the announcement that God’s good time has come—such are the conditions to raise a wave of religious fanaticism strong enough to sweep away all considerations of prudence and self-interest. As long as his religion remains a compelling force, this is his danger and Europe’s. In its present state Arab civilization, greatly fallen from its high condition of culture and learning in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, may be compared with that of Europe in the centuries following the destruction of the Roman Empire. The Arab is now in the Dark Ages. The forms of his faith remain all-powerful, but the spirit is dead. A thousand years separate him from the Europe of to-day. Perhaps the best hope lies for him in a revival of his religion on the spiritual side; from which may spring in turn a germ of those ideals of citizenship, toleration and benevolence which are the basis of our civilization; ideals flowing from the teachings of Christianity, but not confined in their influence to the orthodox of any section of Christendom.