Travels in the footsteps of Bruce in Algeria and Tunis

by Sir R. Lambert Playfair

We did not remain at the village of Akbou, but pushed on a few miles further to Azib esh-Sheikh, the charming residence of my friend and near neighbour at Algiers, Ben Ali Cherif. The house is large and comfortable; of the interior, of course, I can say nothing, but outside there is a row of guest-chambers, clean and spacious; and in the ravine below, on the banks of a considerable stream, is a beautiful garden of flowers and fruit trees, in which is a pavilion shaded from every ray of sun, and furnished in the most luxurious manner. He is the only Arab I ever met in the interior of the colony who took any interest in horticulture, or seemed to care for the cultivation of fruit. He has a European gardener in his service, and there are few gardens, even at Algiers, so beautifully kept, and none so plentifully irrigated. In addition to this, he has been most successful in introducing a better system of cultivation on his estate, and has constructed a European olive oil mill, which is most remunerative.

We spent part of May 22 and 23 at this delightful retreat, and having engaged fresh mules, and obtained spahis acquainted with the country from the Commandant de Beaumont, and recommendations to the Kabyle chiefs on the road, we commenced the ascent of the Djurdjura range, through a rich and highly cultivated country, abounding in fig, olive and ash trees. The two first are the riches of the country, the last (Fraxinus Australis) is also of great utility, as its leaves afford excellent food for sheep and goats in summer and autumn when the grass fails.

At two hours’ distance is the village of Chellata, the chief place in the country of Illoula, and the ancestral home of Ben Ali Cherif. There is a large Zaouia here for the education of Kabyle youth—one of the most renowned in North Africa—kept up at his expense; and in the inclosure in front of it are interred the members of his family. To visit such a holy place as this in Tunis or Morocco would be impossible; in Algeria the Mohammedans no longer dare to exclude Christians from their mosques, but it requires very little penetration to see that their presence is most distasteful to them. This we particularly observed at Chellata. Beyond this the place is of no interest, and, like all other villages in the Kabylia of Djurdjura, it is extremely filthy, a marked contrast to the scrupulous cleanliness of those on the other side of the Oued es-Sahel.

We pitched our tents on a grassy slope, well clear of the village and its evil odours, and were on our mules before daybreak on the following morning, hoping to see the sunrise from the summit. It took us an hour to reach the Col de Chellata, one of the passes leading from the Oued es-Sahel, across the Djurdjura range, between the peaks of Tili-jouen on the left, and Tizi-bart (5,670 feet) on the right. From the top of the former, which we ascended, there is an unequalled view, in some respects finer than that from Chellia, inasmuch as the foreground possesses greater boldness and variety of outline.

Commencing from the west, there is a splendid view of the whole crest of the Djurdjura range, with its two most conspicuous peaks, Azrou-n-Tehour (5,980 feet) and Tamgout Lalla Khadidja (7,542). These are crowned by Welis or Saints’ tombs, favourite places of pilgrimage with the Kabyles; indeed, the latter is esteemed hardly less venerable than the Holy Cities of Mecca and Medina, and a pilgrimage to it certainly more meritorious than one to Kerouan. Beyond these, to the north, are the country of the Beni Illilten, Fort National, and the sea in the extreme distance. More than fifty villages can be counted in this direction. On the opposite side of the pass are Babor, Ta-Babor, crowned with their forests of cedar and pinsapo, and the mountains of the Beni Abbas complete the panorama, while the ever-present mamelon of Akbou, surrounded by a great stretch of level ground, thickly covered with olive groves, occupies the foreground to the south. The effects of light and shade at sunrise can never be forgotten. I have travelled through Algeria in every direction, and in most of the Regency of Tunis as well, but I know of nothing so grand as the view from the Col de Chellata and the short ride between Boni and Geläa.

After passing through this defile the road descends rapidly towards the Tifilkouth or river of the Beni Illilten by a steep and difficult road, but one of exquisite beauty. The whole country is cultivated with as much care as a garden. The road is completely overshadowed by magnificent ash trees, while the banks on either hand are covered with ferns, broom, wild roses, and flowers of every colour. A clear cool stream flows at the bottom, overshadowed with magnificent wild cherry trees. We stopped here for breakfast, and it required all my authority as leader of the expedition to force my followers to mount their mules and leave this fairy dell. The road ascends the opposite bank, passes the village of Tifilkouth, and winds through the most delightfully shady lanes and orchards, mounting and descending almost perpendicular precipices, crossing rapid streams, but always passing from one scene of loveliness to another, till after a ride of two hours from the stream where we breakfasted, or five hours from Chellata, we reached the village of Soumar. The only spot sufficiently level to accommodate our tents was the village cemetery, and here we pitched them, and passed a very pleasant night, undisturbed by the shades of those who rested beneath us.

The head man, or Amin el Oumina, as usual, entertained us with true Berber hospitality, and would fain have had us to lodge in his own house; but, much as we liked our Kabyle friends, and ready as we always were to see their inner life and manners, we could not brave the hosts of fleas with which they are surrounded.

Soumar is situated in the country of the Beni Teourigh, close under Tirourda, at the head of the long stretch of valleys abutting on that mountain. Leaving this, a ride of fifteen minutes brought us to the high road which is being constructed from Fort National to the Oued es-Sahel by the Col de Tirourda, and close to a house which has been erected by the Engineer Department for its employés. The distance hence to the fort is nineteen miles.

The scenery now changed somewhat—it never ceases to be exceedingly grand—and the view of the Djurdjura range improves as it is seen in full front, instead of foreshortened from one end.

But alas! we are once more within the influence of what we have so successfully avoided during the last two months—high roads and guide-books. The admirably engineered, but bare and shadeless road, with its regular curves and gentle gradients, becomes intolerable after the wild and shady lanes and natural scenery in which we have travelled so long; and it is not without a feeling of relief that we reach Fort National, thence to proceed by the prosaic but convenient diligence to Algiers. We made one last protest against civilisation; instead of passing the night in the auberge at the fort, we pitched our tents on the historic battle-field of Icherridhen, and only arrived at the village next morning in time to catch the diligence.