CHAPTER III.

SOWING.And naked sow the land,For lazy winter numbs the lab’ring hand.Dryden’sVirgil, Georgic i.

SOWING.

And naked sow the land,For lazy winter numbs the lab’ring hand.Dryden’sVirgil, Georgic i.

And naked sow the land,

For lazy winter numbs the lab’ring hand.

Dryden’sVirgil, Georgic i.

[Illustration]

Sunday, April18,to Thursday, April22, 1880.

E commenced fresh studies in a rocky ravine beneath Thililit, where trees nodded over the steep path. These sketches were never finished to our satisfaction, we were harassed by the sun, and continual calls to make way for brushwood-bearing peasants, timid cows, sheep, goats and kids. Much as I delight in goats and kids, they are truly provoking when they roll down stones upon one’s picture, or skip into the palette.

Provisions are cheap, twelve fresh eggs for nine sous, for two sous more dried figs than can be piled in the hands. Every morning a lad brought us a freshly-baked wheaten loaf, unleavened, in the form of a round flat cake; we found this sweet and good, and ate it with honey. The more general bread of the people is made of barley-flour, but the sweet acorn of the ilex is also much used, and the natives think this as good as barley-flour, and pay asmuch for it. The poor are often reduced to a dinner of herbs; everyday we saw women washing salads; one in particular we noticed, that looked like celery, but which really was the midrib of the leaf of a thistle.

One morning a sportsman brought in a fat young boar that he had shot in the valley beneath, we gave him ten francs for it, an extravagant price, we learned afterwards. We presented the Fathers with half the meat, and there remained as much as we could dispose of. Dominique cooked well for us, but the contempt he entertained for all things native was sometimes annoying; he professed himself unable to swallow Kabyle bread, he said it made him ill; we always therefore supplied him with French bread, from Fort National, though we never ate it ourselves.

He is a fair specimen of a colonist, and abuses the natives in unmeasured terms. How would thecolonsget on withoutles cochons d’indigènes? The former exist by first getting the Government to give them a ‘concession’ of cultivated land belonging to the ‘indigène,’ and then employing the ex-proprietor to work for them. The most flattering expression I ever heard a Frenchman use towards the Kabyles was, ‘une race capable d’être assimilée.’ He doubtless thought this praise in the highest degree; but the remark was not altogether free from French conceit, nor true, except in the sense that a good beefsteak is assimilated when swallowed by a man of large appetite and strong digestion.

Muirhead had been expecting for some days, a visit from his friend W. B. R———, who had been spending the winter in Algiers, and from H. M———, on a holiday trip from Gibraltar. On April 22, the two appeared, having come from the Fort to reconnoitrebefore bringing their tent. They decided to pitch alongside of us, and shortly started on their way back.

Friday, April23, 1880.—We went to the market Souk-el-Jemāa, the largest in the country, being held in the very heart of Kabylia, at a point central for populous tribes; from one spot, thirty villages can be counted on the adjacent hills. It was an interesting walk, and there was again cause for wonder to find gradients so steep carefully cultivated. The Kabyles

Let no spot of idle earth be found,But cultivate the genius of the ground.

Let no spot of idle earth be found,

But cultivate the genius of the ground.

The ash, plentiful about the summit, is prized by the people, not for the beauty of the trees, nor for the grateful shade they cast over the paths, but because their leaves afford forage during summer heats, when all herbage is parched. The boughs are lopped to cause a number of small branches to shoot out, and thus increase the quantity of leaves.

The fig plantations yield a most important harvest, dried figs being one of the staple foods of the country. The trees were in their most charming state, the beautiful mystery of silver-tangled stems not obscured, but enhanced by the golden sprinkling of opening leaves.

In spring, when first the crowImprinting, with light step, the sands below,So many thinly scatter’d leaves are seenTo clothe the fig-tree’s top with tender green.

In spring, when first the crow

Imprinting, with light step, the sands below,

So many thinly scatter’d leaves are seen

To clothe the fig-tree’s top with tender green.

The first-formed fruit drops off when half grown, to make place for that which is to arrive at maturity. When at Fort National last winter, I noticed dried figs hanging by threads fromthe branches, I was informed these were wild ones, and that minute insects escape, aiding the fructification of the plants from which they are suspended; the Kabyles count thirty-two varieties of this tree. Ilexes too were in full flower, with green bronze-coloured tassels hanging in profusion. Not very dissimilar in appearance were the cork trees, sober but refined in colour, combining a certain quaintness with elegance of form. Vines everywhere twined in great serpentine lines amongst the foliage. Lastly, on the lower slopes were fine groves of olive; a tree which grows with a vigour unmatched in Italy.

We scrambled down steep paths, and found ourselves at the foot of the mountain; halting on a grassy slope, we heard the rush of a torrent in its stony bed, mixed with the hum of voices of many people, and looking over the edge of the slope, saw the market just beneath. There, Kabyles were closely packed, like a swarm of bees, and hundreds of white burnouses jostled among the olives. Rows of rustic bowers were used as shops. In the centre was a fountain for men, while the stream served for watering the animals; on its banks flocks and herds were collected, and many animals had already been slaughtered for the day’s consumption. In the market all the commodities that Kabyles have need of were for sale. Here were great piles of bowls and other utensils in wood; there all sorts of earthenware vessels; in other quarters, burnouses and articles of clothing, oil, figs, grain, skins, tobacco leaves, and many other things. At every step there were varying pictures; but the heat was great, and in spite of the interest of the scene, we were soon glad to repose in the shade apart from the throng, where we lunched, and I spent the rest of the daypainting and taking photographs. Besides supplying ourselves with meat and necessaries, I bought a woman’s dress of singular design, splashed in a curious way with patches of red; I also got pieces of cowhide, which were made up next day into sandals, which are called ercassen. The women usually do not attend the markets; a few however can sometimes be seen in a knot by themselves with pottery for sale.

As we returned the Jurjura were almost obscured in mist, a sure sign of approaching sirocco; the paths were crowded with peasants on their way home, in good humour, well satisfied with their day’s bargaining.

Kabyle paths are abrupt and rugged in the extreme; now running up over masses of rock, a very knife-edge of the mountain; now in steps passing between deep banks overgrown with ferns and flowers; one moment darkened by overhanging trees, an instant after they open upon a grand panorama, to twist again suddenly into some romantic bower. As we approached our tent at dusk, there by the side of it, was a second one, an army bell-tent, our friends having arrived during our absence.

Saturday, April24 toTuesday, May4, 1880.—These were the days that they remained with us, most unfortunate as regards the weather, for we were often enveloped in dense cloud, and could see nothing.

Swift gliding mists the dusky hills invade,To thieves more grateful than the midnight shade;While scarce the swains their feeding flocks survey,Lost and confus’d amidst the thicken’d day.

Swift gliding mists the dusky hills invade,

To thieves more grateful than the midnight shade;

While scarce the swains their feeding flocks survey,

Lost and confus’d amidst the thicken’d day.

So steamy was the air, that we hardly once saw the summits ofthe higher mountains. A furious sirocco was succeeded by a short ominous stillness, then a storm from the north enveloped us anew in cloud, and opened the flood-gates of heaven to an accompaniment of thunder and lightning; then a lull, to be followed by another storm and mist and drizzle, till everything was saturated. During these doubtful lulls, with breaks in the clouds as if it meant better things, we rambled, for the sake of exercise, and to see what we could of the country.

When th’ embattled clouds, in dark array,Along the skies their gloomy lines display,When now the North his boisterous rage has spent,And peaceful sleeps the liquid element,The low-hung vapours, motionless and still,Rest on the summits of the shaded hillTill the mass scatters as the winds arise,Dispers’d and broken, through the ruffled skies.

When th’ embattled clouds, in dark array,

Along the skies their gloomy lines display,

When now the North his boisterous rage has spent,

And peaceful sleeps the liquid element,

The low-hung vapours, motionless and still,

Rest on the summits of the shaded hill

Till the mass scatters as the winds arise,

Dispers’d and broken, through the ruffled skies.

More thunder-storms, more hopeful breaks, when, towards evening, the sun would sink in golden glory beneath a troubled sea of purple mountains, and tinge the phalanxed clouds with gorgeous colours.

So when thick clouds enwrap the mountain’s head,O’er heaven’s expanse like one black ceiling spread;Sudden the Thunderer, with a flashing ray,Bursts through the darkness, and lets down the day.The hills shine out, the rocks in prospect rise,And streams, and vales, and forests strike the eyes;The smiling scene wide opens to the sight,And all th’ immeasur’d ether flames with light.

So when thick clouds enwrap the mountain’s head,

O’er heaven’s expanse like one black ceiling spread;

Sudden the Thunderer, with a flashing ray,

Bursts through the darkness, and lets down the day.

The hills shine out, the rocks in prospect rise,

And streams, and vales, and forests strike the eyes;

The smiling scene wide opens to the sight,

And all th’ immeasur’d ether flames with light.

Thus would the declining sun shed rich gleams over wet grass and dripping foliage. Near the tents, in a secluded corner, an ilex on a knoll bent over an elegant ash, and a vine lovingly entwinedamong their branches, spangled with its leaves the ilex’s sombre mass as with gems of translucent green. Hard by, a warning to the fated trees, a huge vine ungratefully strangled with its coils the aged ash which had for so many years supported it.

During these days the Kabyles came in numbers to the tents, bringing dresses and jewellery for sale; there was lively bargaining, and we made many purchases.

Before the French came, there were no cotton dresses: these have now become common, but the native woollen cloth is still usually worn.

The men’s dress consists of a woollen tunic, confined at the waist with a belt, and a burnous; on the head is a close-fitting skull-cap, much like those worn by monks; added to this, in the summer time, is a plaited grass hat, very high in the crown, and with a huge brim, which falls into picturesque lines when the hat is old and battered; sandals complete the costume, though men often go barefoot as well as bare-headed. They crop the hair short, for Kabyles are not so careful about shaving as the Arabs.

The burnous is a white woollen cloak with a hood; it is closely woven, is durable, and impervious to heat and cold; an admirable piece of dress, designed with thorough good sense, and suited perfectly to the habits and requirements of the people. Its make is shown in the diagram, which supposes the cloak doubled and laid out flat on the ground. It then forms a quarter of a circle, of which the radius is the length from the neck to the ankle of the wearer,a b. The width of an ample hood is added along one side, and the hood itself forms a square in addition. The three strongly marked lines,A,B,C, show where it is closed. AtA, thecloth is doubled, atBandCit is sewn together. From this it will be understood that it is a garment woven all in one piece; no stuff has to be cut off, and thus no labour is wasted in its manufacture.

The tunic or shirt, if doubled and laid out in the same way, forms simply an oblong figure, with holes for the head and arms, and open below.

[Illustration]

The burnous is worn in a multitude of ways. One of the ends hanging down in front is thrown across the breast and over the shoulder; or both sides are shortened, by being thrown up on the shoulders; or the cloak, suspended from one shoulder, is passed round the back, across the breast, and tucked under the armpit. Sometimes the hood muffles the head, sometimes it is thrown back, or the seam beneath the chin is put back to the nape of the neck,while one elbow rests in the hood, which then plays the part of a deep pocket. The burnous may also be shortened by hitching it up under the arms, or the corners, knotted together, are slipped up to the chin, or arranged to come at the back of the neck. Indeed, it is twisted about according to fancy and convenience. The Kabyles have one dodge for tucking it up when ploughing; another for making it into a sort of sack to carry forage. When it is hot they wear it one way; another when it is cold. As it is impossible to follow these arrangements by simply watching the people, I got a Kabyle to come for an afternoon and give me a regular lesson. I took notes, twisted a burnous about my person in every conceivable fashion, and felt much impressed with the knottiness of the subject.

The dress of the women is simpler than that of the men; and being adjusted to the wearer’s person in a definite manner, it is, luckily for comprehension, not so confusing as the burnous.

These dresses are called Aabans, and are strong and warm. Some are plain, others have ornamental borders, or broad bands of divers colours worked in geometric patterns; others again are covered all over with such patterns; some are red, some an indigo blue.

Their character and style are of great antiquity, yet no two are quite alike; the individual workwoman, while following a tradition, reserves liberty for her own ingenuity and taste.

Before long these serviceable and interesting dresses will have disappeared, and the unfortunate women will then feel the improving effects of modern civilisation, by having nothing to wear but villanous coloured pocket-handkerchiefs, and chilly white cottongoods. Yes, alas! from the draperies of antiquity to dresses of Manchester printed stuff, intended to be cut into handkerchiefs, is a too easy and inevitable jump.

The dress, hanging very loosely about the arms, which are bare for convenience, is sometimes kept closer to the figure, by a red band which passes in a loop over each shoulder, and crosses at the back, where it is ornamented with little red tassels. This is called an Asfifi, and is a pretty feature. When the arms are raised, the loose drapery hanging through the loops has much the appearance of the full sleeve of the Italian peasant.

The Asfifi is interesting as explaining the origin of the corset of the Moorish women, which at the back is only three or four inches in depth; this is merely an Asfifi solidified. The tiny Moorish corset, but little enlarged, was to be found in the old costume of Capri, Procida, and Ischia, in which the corset only reached about half way to the waist.

Shoulder-pins, called Ifizimen, are made of silver, often enriched with coral and enamels, the fastening is just an Irish brooch; they have in addition, triangular ornamented plates of metal attached to the lower end of the fastening. These pins are sometimes connected with a chain, to the centre of which is suspended a little metal box, enamelled, and containing scent.

The girdle, which is called an Argooz, effective in appearance, consists of a quantity of woollen plaits, the prevailing hue red, bound together at points about eighteen inches apart, with cross bindings of bright colours. These ties are sometimes of silk, and the girdles are from fifteen to twenty feet in length.

On the head is worn a little peaked bonnet, like the French capof liberty. This is called a Timhárent. It is made by doubling in half, lengthway, a broad silk band, and sewing up one side. It is kept in its place by a second kerchief, bound round, and knotted behind. These silk Timhárents come from Tunis. Many women allow their hair to wave free, or confine it simply with a fillet.

A frequent ornament is a round silver brooch called a ‘Táfizimth,’ with an opening in the centre crossed by a pin. Bosses of coral, as well as knobs of silver, which latter have a very pearl-like effect, are dotted about it. These are effective pieces of jewellery, and with the sun shining on them, they glisten like moons. They are not adopted till a woman becomes a mother. On the birth of a girl the Táfizimth is worn between the breasts; on the birth of a boy, it is raised, and gleams above the forehead. Remarking that many of these brooches offered for sale, were damaged, a Kabyle gave a frank explanation which was: ‘When a man’s wife was disobedient, and got beaten, her custom was to undo the “Táfizimth” and dash it to the ground at his feet.’

There is another head-ornament, handsomer than this. It is called a ‘Taasubth,’ and consists of a central silver brooch over the forehead, and side brooches above the temples, enriched in the same style, and with rows of silver gleaming semispheres completely encircling the head, and forms a glittering tiara fit for a princess. The ‘repoussé’ semispheres are about three-quarters of an inch in diameter. I have seen this same ornament in Pompeian jewellery.

Bracelets of ‘repoussé’ work, and sometimes silver anklets, are worn. Necklaces are made of beads and coral, and also of cloves and sweet-smelling paste, but a handsomer and more characteristicsort, called a ‘Theslegth,’ is a row of square silver boxes, containing scents, strung together with pieces of coral.

During the wet weather, I had plenty of time to study my Kabyle Dictionary and Grammar; the school children also came and gave help in learning the language; and as Kabyles sat in the tent nearly all day, I had constant opportunities for trying to speak it, and made progress. Our friends brought a servant rejoicing in the name of Zachariah, who spoke Arabic; this was of service, and we called upon him for help, when mutual ignorance brought conversation to a dead-lock, as it often did. The Kabyles are such travellers that in every village some speak Arabic; but there is not a woman in the country who understands anything but Kabyle.

Zachariah was of a cheerful disposition, and made company for the melancholy Dominique, who however did not grow more lively in consequence. The latter used to lecture Zachariah, and give him the advantages of his experience, describe mysterious and savoury dishes that he had concocted in cities, and recount the perils to be endured by colonists living amongst Arabs in the interior. His chief complaint against Zachariah was, ‘Ce pauvre jeune homme ne sait pas beaucoup, cependant il ne demande pas de conseil.’ Those were trying days for both men, when they had to cook in the pouring rain. Dominique also was extremely disgusted at the freedom with which we let natives sit in the entrance to our tent; he periodically rushed in a perfect frenzy of rage, at the boys who chaffed him, and ‘Dominique Marboul’ (Mad Dominique) became a familiar expression in our ears.

One morning some Kabyles brought two very young boars tothe tents, little brown and yellow striped creatures. Zachariah, taking a fancy to these genuine ‘cochons sauvages,’ bought them for pets. Little boars, as they grow up, are said to become much attached to their masters, nothing delighting them more than to follow their benefactors incessantly, and by rubbing against their legs, demonstrate their gratitude and affection. One of these dear creatures was put out to nurse, given into the charge of a Kabyle lad to rear, Zachariah undertaking to look after the other himself. Part of our tent was partitioned off into a room for Dominique. Zachariah slept there also; and he hid away his pet in the corner, while Dominique sat opposite, predicting evil for it. The pig had naturally no intention of remaining in one particular spot; and on finding itself alone, went squeaking all about the place, feebly enough, for it was weak and soon grew weaker. On the second day it was ‘in extremis,’ with a pinched-up look about the body. Zachariah, anxious about the brother out at nurse, had it brought back and set by the fire for warmth. He was called away, and meanwhile the little beast, shivering, toppled into the glowing embers and was roasted. This tragedy was quickly followed by the death of the surviving pig. During the night, while nursed in Zachariah’s bosom, with a few faint squeaks, it closed its brief and chastened existence.

JEWELLERY.

Tuesday, May4, 1880.—H. M.’s leave of absence drew towards a close. He and his comrade could no longer remain, and we were obliged to part with their pleasant company. The mules were laden, and we bade our friends ‘bon voyage.’

The trees were now in fulness of summer leaf, but in spite ofthe rich and rapid growth of all vegetation, owing to the wet, there was not that delicate brilliance which the opening burst of spring presented.

It was just a month since we left Algiers, and we had completed so little, that feelings of despair came upon us.

HEWING.’Tis more by art, than force of numerous strokes,The dexterous woodman shapes the stubborn oaks.Pope’sIliad, Book xxiii.

HEWING.

’Tis more by art, than force of numerous strokes,The dexterous woodman shapes the stubborn oaks.Pope’sIliad, Book xxiii.

’Tis more by art, than force of numerous strokes,

The dexterous woodman shapes the stubborn oaks.

Pope’sIliad, Book xxiii.

[Illustration]

Wednesday, May5,to Thursday, May20.

HE abnormal amount of wet delighted the Kabyles, for they knew it meant heavy crops; and they had suffered from droughty seasons, so that the olive harvest of the previous autumn had been an entire failure. However it was most annoying to us. What had happened? What had we done to deserve this? We began to consider the advisability of making some offering to Uncle Zaïd’s Kouba, to propitiate the gods.

For Jove his fury pours,And earth is laden with incessant showers,When guilty mortals break th’ eternal laws,Or judges, bribed, betray the righteous cause;From their deep beds he bids the rivers rise,And opens all the floodgates of the skies:Th’ impetuous torrents from their hills obey,Whole fields are drowned, and mountains swept away;Loud roars the deluge till it meets the main,And trembling man sees all his labours vain.

For Jove his fury pours,

And earth is laden with incessant showers,

When guilty mortals break th’ eternal laws,

Or judges, bribed, betray the righteous cause;

From their deep beds he bids the rivers rise,

And opens all the floodgates of the skies:

Th’ impetuous torrents from their hills obey,

Whole fields are drowned, and mountains swept away;

Loud roars the deluge till it meets the main,

And trembling man sees all his labours vain.

Weather permitting we painted, and as our days much repeated each other, I shall not attempt to follow them regularly, but make desultory remarks upon such things as struck me. One day we went to a neighbouring market, Souk-es-Sebt; Saturday’s market. Unlike Souk-el-Jemāa, this is held at the top of a bare mountain. In clear weather this point must command a magnificent view; it was very fine with the Jurjura wreathed in clouds. I have given an illustration of men at a market selling fig-cuttings.

Some in deep mouldPlant cloven stakes, and (wondrous to behold!)Their sharpened ends in earth their footing place,And the dry poles produce a living race.

Some in deep mould

Plant cloven stakes, and (wondrous to behold!)

Their sharpened ends in earth their footing place,

And the dry poles produce a living race.

These fig-cuttings look like unpromising bundles of dry sticks; but ‘as the earth bringeth forth her bud, and as the garden causeth the things that are sown in it to spring forth,’ even so may the people ‘put on the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.’

Not till we arrived at the market did we perceive the reason for its being held at such an inconvenient and exposed spot; we then saw a number of villages before us, perched on the crests of precipitous ridges.

The market is on the boundary between the Aïth Ménguellath and a tribe called the Aïth or Beni Yahïa. Beni is the Arabic for ‘sons of,’ the word Aït or Aïth has the same meaning in Kabyle. The locality of markets is often on the boundary of tribal territories, such as Souk-es-Sebt and Souk-el-Jemāa. Souk-el-Arba at Fort National, on the contrary, is in the centre of the tribe Beni Iraten.

[Illustration]

Such points of junction were esteemed neutral in old days, when the country was disturbed, and tribesmen could attend and transact business in safety when it would have been dangerous to overstep the limits of their own lands.

An institution that rendered travelling in safety possible when the country was embroiled, is that called Anaya, which is a reciprocal compact between two persons to guard each other from attack. A traveller wishing to pass through antagonistic tribes, or for any reason apprehending danger, sought a friend, who granted him Anaya; this friend, if he did not accompany him gave some token, to be presented in the tribe whither the stranger was going, which would ensure the respect and hospitality due to himself; the new host would in his turn offer the stranger Anaya, and so pass him on in safety. Since the French have introduced settled government, this custom has disappeared, or more truly speaking, lies dormant, for I have myself met a Frenchman who assured me that his life was saved by it in 1870. When the revolt broke out, he was far away from home, but a native friend accorded him Anaya, and by means of tokens, he was passed in safety to a French settlement, though the country was in a flame.

A woman could give Anaya in the absence of her husband; it was in consequence of its violation, that a war occurred in which several tribes took part. It was ‘à propos’ of this same affair, that the villages beneath which we were encamped received the names of ‘Taourirt en Taïdith’ (The Peak of the Dog) and ‘Ouarzen’ (the Ogre). The following is the story: A man of the Aïth Bou Yousef, desiring to pass through the territory of the Aïth Ménguellath, but fearing to fall a victim to the vengeance of an enemy,presented himself at a house in Taourirt, and solicited Anaya. His friend being absent, the wife gave him as token a dog, well known about there as belonging to her husband. Shortly after, the woman saw her dog return alone, covered with blood. Not knowing what to think, she called friends together, who starting in quest of the stranger, soon discovered his body disfigured with wounds, lying at the bottom of a ravine. Indignation was felt at this perfidious act; two parties were formed, and no terms of accommodation being arrived at, fighting began.

The French first dominated this part of the country by marching a column to Souk-es-Sebt, in 1854. The Aïth Ménguellath finding themselves threatened, tendered submission; three years later, in conjunction with other tribes, they rose in arms. They were then attacked by General Macmahon, who carried their villages by storm, and consigned them as a prey to the flames.

The tribe of the Beni Yahïa was in former days the nucleus of a Kabyle state known to Spanish writers as Cuco, which was also the name of their chief town. It corresponds with the confederation of the Zouáoua. The outlet of the country was by the roadstead of Azefoun, where commerce was transacted with the Marseillese. Marmol, who wroteA.D.1573, gives an account of the country which answers to its present condition; and he speaks of the warlike inhabitants, who recognised no master, and paid tribute to none. They were rich in corn, in flocks, and horses, and though constantly fighting, they had free markets on neutral ground, where hostile tribes could do business without fear.

History does not deign to speak much about the Kabyles. These mountaineers appear to have remained generally untouchedby the political movements that distracted North Africa. A little book by A. Berbrugger, ‘Les Epoques Militaires de la Grande Kabylie,’ published 1857, enters into details of their history, though the author has difficulty to find continuous firm ground for his statements. What he makes evident is, the unchanging character of the people, their troublesome and dangerous qualities as neighbours, and the pertinacity with which they were always ready to fight for their independence.

Ebn Khaldoun, himself a Berber, and the historian of the race, wrote towards the end of the fourteenth century. He speaks of the confederation of the Zouáoua, and gives the names of tribes, many of which still exist. It is to the Zouáoua that the word Zouave owes its origin. The Kabyles were then less exclusively confined to the mountains, and many led a nomadic life in the adjoining plains. They were dressed in striped garments, one end of which thrown over the shoulder, floated behind, they also had heavy burnouses, black, and of a tawny brown colour, and went generally bareheaded, only shaving from time to time.

One day, in the Aïth Ménguellath, I met an old man with a burnous striped all over with thin dark lines of blue, and further ornamented with chess-board patterns; this I bought off his back, as it was the only thing of the sort I had seen in the country. As the ends of the burnous are commonly flung over the shoulder, I conclude that the striped garments mentioned by Ibn Khaldoun were of this nature; though possibly he refers to striped cloths such as are still worn by the women.

Throughout the long dominion of the Romans, the Berbers were continually breaking the peace, and were rather hemmed in,and overawed, than assimilated to the higher civilisation surrounding them.

In those times they were known under the name of the Quinquegentians, or five tribes, and various proofs can be brought to show that they were of a very refractory character. For instance a Roman inscription preserved at Aumale, runs to this effect: ‘To Q. Gargilius, victim of the attacks of the Bavars, on account of the love he bore the citizens, and his single-minded affection for his country, and besides, on account of his courage and vigilance in taking and killing the rebel Faraxen with his partisans, the municipal body of Auzia, at its own cost, has raised and dedicated this monument, 24 March 221 of the province.’ Or 261A.D.

The word Faraxen is supposed to apply to the leader of the Beni Fraousen, one of the present principal tribes.

The war of Firmus, an account of which is given by Gibbon, took place in these regions. An outline of the revolt in a few words, is this: The Roman governor of Africa, Count Romanus, instead of protecting the colonists against the inroads of the tribes, sought only by unjust oppressive measures to benefit his own pocket, and having powerful friends at court, he was able to hide his iniquitous proceedings from the Emperor. At this time Nubal was chief of the Zouáoua. He had many sons, some natural, some legitimate. Zammer, a natural son and friend of the governor, was killed in a dispute by a legitimate son, Firmus. He, in order to avoid threatened punishment, revolted, and the rising became formidable on account of the disordered state of the province. This was aboutA.D.370. To quell the rebellion, Count Theodosius was sent over to Africa, he landed at the modern Gigelli, andproceeded to Setif, and shortly advanced with an army to Tribusuptus, the present Bordj Tiklat, some twenty miles from Bougie, where Roman ruins exist in abundance. From this point he proceeded to attack the Quinquegentians. The names of the tribes mentioned are the Tindenses, Massinissenses, Isaflenses, Jubaleni, and Jesaleni. The Massinissenses are still to be recognised under the name of the Imsissen; Massen Issa, meaning the sons of Aïssa; the Isaflenses are the Iflissen; the Jubaleni appear to be the mountaineers of the Jurjura, for the Romans were checked in their attack on them, on account of the difficult nature of the country.[2]

The war, after continuing for some time, was brought to a close by the Kabyle chief Firmus destroying himself, to avoid being given up by Igmazen, the chief of the Isaflenses, to the victorious Romans. The principal interest of the story of the war is, that it shows the possibility of tracing certain tribes up tothis remote period; it proves also to what an extent they were independent, and on what turbulent terms they lived with their neighbours; a state of things which continued till they were conquered by the French.

The Romans on going to North Africa, found native Berber kingdoms, Numidia, Mauretania, Gætulia, Lybia. The inhabitants of these kingdoms were all of one race, and spoke dialects of the same language, usually known as Berber, but the native name for it is Tamazirght or Amazirgh.

In all the more inaccessible places of North Africa their direct descendants are to be found; they speak varieties of the old language, and have the same character and institutions.[3]

Berber belongs to a class of languages named Hamitic, which comprises ancient Egyptian, Coptic, and Ethiopian languages. An obvious peculiarity which strikes an Englishman, is the prevalence of Th sounds, both hard and soft, as in the English words ‘the’ and ‘thin.’ T is often softened into Th, and S into Z. But natives of the same village do not always pronounce words alike. For instance, one would say Aït Ménguellat, another the Aïth Ménguellath. Other peculiarities there are, upon which I need hardly enter.

Those who have not tried the experiment, can hardly be aware of the difficulty of writing down the speech of an illiterate peasant, in which sounds recur which do not exist in European language. It would require an intimate knowledge of the various sections of the Berber race, to have a just appreciation of their language,classified as Morocco Berber, called Shilha, or Tamazirght, descended from ancient Mauretanian; Berber of the Jurjura and Aures mountains, or Kabyle, descended from ancient Numidian; Touareg from ancient Gætulian; and Ghadames from ancient Garamantian.

The number of localities in Kabylia where traces of the Romans have been found, are too numerous to mention. On the coast were the towns of Saldæ, the modern Bougie; Rusuccurum, now Dellys; and Rusazus, now Azeffoun. There are ruins of importance at Taksebt on Cape Tedles, and at Jemāa-es-Sahridj, a central point in the tribe of the Beni Fraousen. This latter spot I visited in 1873. Its site is beautiful, and celebrated for abundance of springs. I have a pleasant recollection of the songs of nightingales among shady groves, and of the courteous manners of the rural chief, who was entertaining his friends beneath a cane-trellised arbour; but I cannot say I was much impressed by the antiquities, which consist chiefly of rubble walls on the top of a hill. In the market-place are blocks of masonry, supposed to be the remains of a Roman bath. It is obvious to the most uninitiated in military matters, that a station here must have blocked the natural outlet from the higher mountains towards the sea. Since my visit, a flourishing school has sprung up under the superintendence of the Jesuits.

The Kabyles, engaged in internal disputes and struggles to maintain their independence, having their simple wants satisfied by rude manufactures and the land they tilled, never had intercourse with nations more advanced than themselves, and felt not their own deficiencies. Every man guarded above all things his individualliberty, with a jealousy that prevented him combining with others to carry out any works of importance, and none had the capital which might have induced the many to labour for an end in common; the only sentiment of sufficient strength to bind them together was fear of the invader. From time immemorial Kabylia has been the home of peasant proprietorship, of communism, of local self-government with popular assemblies, of social equality; but owing to the limited resources of the country, to the crude notion that the people have of liberty, and to an excess of the democratic spirit, their civilisation has crystallised in a primitive form.

The French have now changed all this, and hold the country with a firm hand. But in 1870 they were obliged to withdraw from Algeria most of their troops in order to fight the Germans.

Incited by ill-judging men, the native tribes unhappily thought the moment to strike for independence had come; they rose, and committed barbarous and frightful excesses; though, to be just towards them, the cruelties they had themselves suffered from must be borne in mind. The Franco-German war over, the troops returned and put down the revolt. The French, full of the bitterest feelings, confiscated the rich wheat-growing lands, and imposed a crushing war tribute, that it took the Kabyles five years to pay. Complete disarmament was also effected, and the country became for the first time safe. Fort Napoleon sustained a long siege without being the worse for it, and changed its name to Fort National, with this new era of ‘Liberté, Égalité, et Fraternité.’

It was defended by native troops, who thus proved their fidelity under the most painful circumstances. Great numbers of Kabyleshave been ruined, and forced to gain their bread by working for the French, and many disgusted with the state of things, have fled to enjoy the license of the native province of Tunis, in districts remote from the hated foreigner.[4]

A knowledge of French is essential for natives who desire to gain a livelihood by working for Europeans, and likewise in the settlement of disputes, which otherwise are fostered by go-betweens, who thrive on the ignorant by pretending to advance their interests with those who govern. It is specially to this work of education that the missionary Fathers apply themselves. Theyare a society recognised by the State, on the understanding that they do not interfere with the religion of the people. There is besides, little temptation for them to do so, as the jealousy of the natives would be aroused, and their influence with them consequently lost. Truly it would be foolish to cherish fallacious hopes of converting the Kabyles; they respect the sincerity of the Fathers, but there are too many nominal Christians in the land, who, the natives remark, do not believe in their own Marabouts.

The Fathers are the only Europeans that the natives think disinterested friends; the single-minded devotion with which they give themselves to a useful and philanthropic mission, causes them to be universally honoured. An extensive field lies open; so much so, that one is struck by the disproportion between means and aims; they are a forlorn hope of Christian knights valiantly assaulting the stronghold of ignorance; men doing battle on the summit of a scaling ladder, without sympathy given by the army encamped at a distance. Until these schools were founded, the natives picked up French under difficulties. The following translation of a song, will give the reader their sentiments concerning their study of the language:

SONG.The day on which ‘bon soir’ was revealed to us,We received a blow on the jaw.We were nailed in prison.The day on which ‘bon jour’ was revealed to us,We received a blow on the nose.Blessings have ceased.The day on which ‘merci’ was revealed to us,We were taken by the throat.A sheep inspires more fear than we.The day on which ‘cochon’ was revealed to us,A dog had more honour than we.The farmer has bought a mule.The day on which ‘frère’ was revealed to us,We received a kick on the knee.We wade in shame up to the breast.The day on which ‘diable’ was revealed to us,We received a blow which made us mad.We have become porters of dung.

SONG.The day on which ‘bon soir’ was revealed to us,We received a blow on the jaw.We were nailed in prison.

SONG.

The day on which ‘bon soir’ was revealed to us,

We received a blow on the jaw.

We were nailed in prison.

The day on which ‘bon jour’ was revealed to us,We received a blow on the nose.Blessings have ceased.

The day on which ‘bon jour’ was revealed to us,

We received a blow on the nose.

Blessings have ceased.

The day on which ‘merci’ was revealed to us,We were taken by the throat.A sheep inspires more fear than we.

The day on which ‘merci’ was revealed to us,

We were taken by the throat.

A sheep inspires more fear than we.

The day on which ‘cochon’ was revealed to us,A dog had more honour than we.The farmer has bought a mule.

The day on which ‘cochon’ was revealed to us,

A dog had more honour than we.

The farmer has bought a mule.

The day on which ‘frère’ was revealed to us,We received a kick on the knee.We wade in shame up to the breast.

The day on which ‘frère’ was revealed to us,

We received a kick on the knee.

We wade in shame up to the breast.

The day on which ‘diable’ was revealed to us,We received a blow which made us mad.We have become porters of dung.

The day on which ‘diable’ was revealed to us,

We received a blow which made us mad.

We have become porters of dung.

One lovely day, bright and cloudless, on approaching the cemetery of Thililit, we heard the chanting of many voices. There was a funeral. The corpse, wrapped closely round in a white sheet and carried on a stretcher, was laid on the ground; a Kabyle sat beside and led the chant, while the friends of the dead man, in picturesque groups, stood round the grave; one carried a crown of oleander. The body was lowered, the earth filled in, and flagstones fastened down on the top; there was another chant, and then the people dispersed. The cattle, sheep, and goats grazed unconcernedly around; the pastoral pipe but halted an hour in its soft-toned warblings. When it recommenced, it might perchance have mourned the loss of a brother piper, in the fashion of antique measures:

‘The fountain nymphs through the wood mourn for thee, and their tears become waters; and echo amid the rocks laments, because thou art mute, and mimics no more thy lips; and at thy death, the trees have cast off their fruit, and the flowers have all withered; good milk hath not flowed from ewes, nor honey from hives, but it has perished in the wax, wasted with grief; for no longer is it meet, now that thy honey is lost, to gather that.’

The long line of mourners issuing from the cemetery was a beautiful spectacle; golden reflections in shadowed burnouses harmonising charmingly with the lichened tombstones. A youth only remained behind, the son of the deceased; he sat upon the tomb wailing.

I have sometimes seen locks of hair laid upon graves, reminding of similar Greek offerings.

In the play of ‘Electra,’ Orestes says:—

Back to Index Next