Here, in this city of one hundred thousand inhabitants, the largest proportion of whom are Arabs, one finds himself out of the pale of French civilization. In Algeria life may be considered tolerably safe, but here, such is the fanaticism of the Musselman, and so little the respect paid to Christians, that one is naturally cautious in his movements. The mosques cannot be entered as in Constantinople, Algiers, and other places; the cemeteries cannot be defiled by infidels. The five gates of the city are closed at six in the afternoon. All persons found out by the armed sentinels after seven in the afternoon, without lanterns, are taken to the guard-house and released upon the consul’s application in the morning. An instance of intolerance occurred last June, which created a sensation far and wide. I passed the gate recently where the Jew (you will recollect the circumstance), meeting with some obstacle, anathematized Mahomet; he was maltreated, thrown into prison and condemned to be executed, and notwithstanding the protestations of various consuls, was decapitated and literally cut into pieces by the exasperated populace. The French sent down a squadron, and at last obtained redress from the Bey, in promises for the future privileges of Jews and Christians. Here one finds African life in its natural condition, beyond the reach of French officers and soldiery.
The miserable, sallow-looking troops are dressed in round jackets and pantaloons, with the fez, or cap of red cloth, ill adapted to a hot climate. The streets are narrow and wretchedly filthy; all the offal is thrown into them, and where hogs do not exist as scavengers, the dogs, who are always numerous, supply in some measure the defect. When it rains, the black mud is difficult to wade through, as there is no pavement, and pattens are brought in requisition. The stench from filth is abominable.
The bazaars are interesting to visit, on account of their display of rich silks, costumes, smoking pipes with amber mouth-pieces, otto of roses, embroideries of all kinds, and rich trappings for saddles and bridles.
The Arab cafés, with their thirty to forty inmates, sitting cross-legged, sipping coffee in little cups, and listening to guitars and national airs, are curious to look into. The little barber shops are found everywhere, and busy enough are their masters, shaving the skulls of the faithful. A pile of shoes is always at the door, as the Arabs step upon the mats and rugs, and then draw their shoes off, and draw their feet up under them. You are elbowed in the streets by negroes and Arabs of the different races, dark-eyed boys, camels and mules laden with olives, olive oil, fruits, and vegetables, and surrounded by the cries of vendors, and the confusion of tongues. The exterior Moorish architecture of some of the mosques, and the light and airy minarets, are attractive to the eye as you look up and espy the Muezzin crying out the hour of prayer. The supreme power is vested in the Bey, who has several palaces in the city and country. He is now residing some nine miles hence, along the shore, whither I have been to witness an Arab fantasie, or display of horsemanship.
An artillery regiment lay encamped directly opposite the immense palace, with its latticed windows, domes, terraces, and four hundred and fifty inmates, including the harem, eunuchs, servants, officials, and relatives of the Bey’s wives. Two huge, uncouth, painted lions were seen over the inner porch; sentinels, stacks of muskets, and officers, civil and military, were in the front of the doors, together with the sons of the sovereign, and when the Bey presented himself at the window, the equestrian exercise commenced. There were forty horsemen, accompanied by two Kadis and three Scheiks of tribes in the interior, who were dressed in the most luxurious costumes of silks and embroidered cloth flowing robes, their arms, saddles, and bridles glittering with gold and silver filigree work. Starting at some distance, they came down singly, and in groups of three or five, upon full gallop, drawing and discharging their carabines as they passed by, and suddenly reining up and whirling their guns in the air—a most exciting and wild scene, beautifully executed. Others were dancing their horses to the sounds of drums and flutes, and making all sorts of evolutions around the sentinels, describing a figure eight, and embracing the sentinels without treading on their toes. The homage paid was recompensed by rich and costly presents sent out to the victors.
While the authorities are revelling in luxuries, the poor suffer the penalty. Three thousand troops have just been sent out, to be absent some months, for the purpose of collecting taxes and imposts, which are enforced by the bayonet.
The country is beautifully fertile and productive. We rode through miles of olive groves. The Bey has a famous oil mill, driven by steam power, under the direction of Europeans. The olives, when fully ripened, are sent in panniers upon camels’ backs, and crushed by machinery; the oil is then pressed out. Our Consul and some others made up a party for Gomart, twelve miles distant, where we found some catacombs; but to one who had seen those of Thebes they afforded but little interest.
The friends we visited occupied a palace which had been built by Christian slave labor during the piratical days of this people. The amount of labor performed in the construction, with its fountains, basins, orange, lemon, and date groves, must have exhausted the patience of these poor prisoners.
The ancient city of Carthage lies along the sea shore, some twelve miles from Tunis, and is quite accessible by carriage drive. We visited Mr. Davis, the gentleman employed by the British government in excavating the antiquities, and accompanied him in these explorations. The site of the great temple of Esculapius is plainly visible, and a portion of the foundation walls and staircases. He has forty men employed, and we discovered the basements of several houses where the mosaic floors were quite perfect and very beautiful. Many large boxes have been sent to the British Museum. The ancient port of the city is still distinguishable.
The traces of the aqueducts are well defined, and large masses of stone still stand. The reservoirs for water, seventeen in number, are in the best state of preservation; they are evidently of Roman construction.