Even those buildings which we see in Algiers, at Constantine and in the other ancient towns, are the work of Turkish or European architects. And yet, in spite of this apparent futility of existence, in spite of this atmosphere of strife, there is something very noble in the nature of the Arabs, something very engaging, something utterly aloof from all that is European; for in spite of dissension among themselves they are all held under the sway of Islam, that all-powerful principle which separates them entirely from all other persuasions.
Moreover, the longer one lives among the Arabs the more one realizes the insurmountable barrier which separates us from them. It is not a question of race, though this does count; it is a question of religion. One can establish the deepest intimacy in all matters of daily life and then suddenly come face to face with this blank wall.
Some Europeans contend that it is possible really to become as the Arabs—even to mate with them. The few who have tried this last experiment have met with utter disaster. I know a caïd who has been all over Europe, who occasionally wears European clothes, who has had affairs with women of all nationalities, but without ever legally marrying one. He told me that twice he had been on the point of doing so, but that reason had always prevailed.
“How could it be?” he exclaimed. “How could the gulf which separates us from you ever be spanned? How could a European woman admit being shut up, or, if she emancipated herself, being considered by us on the same level as a woman of the Quarter? How could she admit to her children being brought up in the principles of the Koran, with our habits and customs? Why, we don’t even sleep in beds or sit on chairs; we eat with our hands; we have no learning; we never read books. We don’t consider any belief but our own; and, even if such a mating began successfully, how could you expect one of your people to admit the husband taking other wives to live legally under the same roof if he felt so inclined?”
This is so obvious that it seems almost superfluous to speak of it, and yet there are Europeans who will not see the impossibility of such a step; there are some who have actually taken it; I know a few of them. I have never mentioned the subject to them; the look in their eyes has told me more than any words, and has made me shrink from further laying bare the wound.
I was talking to an educated Arab not so long ago about religions, and he expressed the opinion that only Mohammedans would go to heaven. I suggested that the question of after-life was not so much judged by religion as by the actions of men, and I quoted the example of a very worthy Christian we know, respected by all Arabs, and a hopeless, immoral, drinking marabout.
“Which of the two will be recompensed, the honest and sober unbeliever, or that scoundrel who calls himself a holy man of yours?”
“I can not say,” he replied, after a moment’s thought; “but probably neither of them will go to paradise.”
“What?” I exclaimed. “You mean to suggest that worthy Mr. X., who has spent the whole of his life doing good, will find himself in company with your drunken marabout?”
“I can not say,” repeated the Arab; “but if our friend believes that Jesus is the Son of God, he can not go to heaven. God is above all, and no one is like him.”