Chapter I: Foreword

Unlike most of my preceding volumes, this book deals with countries which are comparatively near to home. Tunisia, Algeria, Morocco—which we know collectively as Barbary—lie at the very door of Europe; their principal ports are scarcely more than overnight from Naples, Barcelona, and Marseilles; scores of tourist steamers drop anchor in their harbors every winter, and they are visited by increasing numbers of Americans each year. Yet it is a curious fact, and one difficult to explain, that the popular misconceptions regarding these easily accessible lands are even more glaring than those in respect to far remoter regions which the white man penetrates at every risk.

The truth of the matter is that most Americans, and most Europeans too for that matter, think of Barbary in terms of the corsairs, the Garden of Allah, the dancing-girls of the Ouled-Naïl, the Foreign Legion, Raisuli and Perdicaris, the squalor and confusion of Europeanized Tangier, the Riff and Abd-el-Krim, the luxurious resort hotels of Algiers, the Street of the Perfume-Sellers in Tunis, Moroccan leather-work, camels, tiled gateways, the utterly impossible sheikhs described by Mrs. Hull and interpreted by Hollywood, and the sand-dunes so frequently pictured in the “National Geographic Magazine.” With our unfortunate propensity for generalizing, we have assumed that these high spots were typical of Barbary, thus forming a mental picture which is as fantastic as it is inaccurate.

For example, we speak of the inhabitants of North Africa as Arabs, who in reality are only a minority, the bulk of the population being composed of Berbers, the earliest known possessors of the soil, who still hold the highlands which stretch from the borders of Egypt to the shores of the Atlantic, from the sands of the Mediterranean to those of the Sahara, that vast extent of territory to which we have given their name, Barbary.

We think of the Berbers as crude and uncultured, as barbaric, bloodthirsty, and backward as were the American Indians. Yet before America was so much as heard of, they, not the Arabs or the Saracens, had raised at Granada and Seville those glorious buildings which are among the architectural triumphs of the world.

Because of their sun-tanned skins, and recalling, perhaps, the old term “blackamoor,” we assume that the Berbers are a colored race and are astounded when we are told that they are of pure Caucasian stock, racially as white as ourselves.

Because it is in Africa we take it for granted that Barbary swelters in a torrid climate, whereas it is a cold country with a hot sun. In Algeria the week after Easter I have seen snow several inches deep, and the mountains to the south of Marrákesh are topped with snow nearly the whole year round.

Most of us think of Morocco as a treeless, semi-arid, almost level land, yet it has vast forests of oak and pine, several rivers comparable with the Thames or the Hudson, and in the spring its prairies and hill-slopes are carpeted with countless varieties of wild flowers. Far from being level, it is a highly mountainous country; the Moroccan Atlas has a greater average height than the Alps, and at least one of its peaks is higher than any mountain in the United States outside of Alaska.

We ourselves went to war in ’98 to end the intolerable rule of Spain in the Western Hemisphere, yet the propaganda skilfully disseminated from Madrid and Paris has blinded us to the fact that Abd-el-Krim and his mountaineers of the Riff were fighting for precisely the same reason for which the Cubans fought—to throw off the yoke of Spanish tyranny and cruelty.

Because in the geographies of our school-days large portions of North Africa were painted a speckled yellow, and because of the pictures of sand-dunes reproduced in certain magazines, we habitually picture the Sahara as a trackless waste of orange sand, on which grows no living thing, little realizing that it is broken by mile-high mountain ranges and dotted with oases, some of them as large as a New England State, which support thousands of inhabitants and millions of date-palms.

Basing our idea on motion-pictures made in Hollywood, and on novels of the desert school of fiction, we imagine sheikhs—and for heaven’s sake pronounce it _shakes_ instead of _sheeks_!—as romantic, picturesque, debonair gentlemen with chivalrous instincts and charming manners, whereas candor compels me to assert that most of them are blackguardly ruffians, lustful, cruel, vindictive, ignorant, debased, as filthy of mind as of body.

We have long accepted as gospel the assertion that the British are the only really successful colonizers in the world; the French colonial we have pictured as a miserable being who spends his days in a hammock, sipping absinthe, reading “La Vie Parisienne,” and counting the hours until he can return to _la belle France_. Yet, in the space of a single generation, these miserable and inefficient beings have in Africa alone conquered and consolidated and civilized a colonial empire greater in area than the United States and all of its possessions put together.

And, finally, we cling to the delusion that Barbary, though doubtless colorful and picturesque, is deficient in monuments of historical or architectural interest, and that the facilities provided for the comfort of the traveler are limited and somewhat crude. Let me remark, by way of answering this objection, that Tunisia is as thickly strewn with Roman ruins as Italy itself; that the scenery of the Grand Kabylia and the High Atlas is as impressive as any in Switzerland; that the mosques and towers and palaces of Morocco were built by the same race which raised the Alhambra and the Alcázar; that the network of motor-roads which cover Barbary compare very favorably with the best highways we have in the United States; and that the hotels which have sprung up all the way from Tunis to Marrákesh are not far removed in luxury from the great tourist hostelries of Florida and California.

Extremely misleading too have been the pictures of political conditions in North Africa as drawn by certain members of self-styled “American missions,” who have visited the country at the invitation of the government, have been dazzled by fêtes and flatteries, and have swallowed the propaganda assiduously fed them by their hosts. I yield to none in my admiration for what France has achieved in North Africa, but to assert, as have certain American visitors, that the natives are contented with French rule and would give their life’s blood to defend it is to take wholly unjustifiable liberties with the truth.

It is to correct the current misapprehensions in regard to Barbary, some of which are alluded to above, that I have written this book.

I am perfectly aware that the countries to which the following pages are devoted have been treated of many times, and that my pages contain nothing that is startling, little that is really new. But I can at least make this claim for my book, that it is the only one, so far as I am aware, which brings the whole of French North Africa, its history, peoples, customs, places of interest, resources, and politics, between two covers. During my last two or three visits to Barbary I have been struck by the lack of such a book, and I have designed this one to fill a needed want.

Though I have used my last African journey, which occupied the winter, spring, and early summer of 1925, as a thread on which to string the incidents and impressions recorded in the ensuing chapters, it should be explained that much of my information was gathered during earlier visits, dating back to the early years of the present century. Hence I am in a position to make comparisons. For it has been my great good fortune to have seen the preliminary sketches as well as the completed picture. I was in the Sahara when it was still “the Last Frontier”; I knew Morocco as it was a decade before the white helmets came.

While having no desire to trespass on the field of Messrs. Baedeker, Murray, and Cook, I have nevertheless attempted to produce a volume which will be of real service to the casual traveler by incorporating definite information as to routes, hotels, and general travel conditions and by calling to his attention places which, though not always mentioned in the guide-books, are well worth seeing. I have also sketched the natural resources of the various regions and have endeavored to acquaint my readers with the highly involved political situations which exist in all of them. It may be said, by way of criticism, that my pages are overburdened with historical matter, but without the background of the Punic settlements, the Roman, Vandal, Byzantine, and Arab invasions, and the activities of the corsairs, it is impossible to understand Barbary as it is under the French.

It may also be assumed by some that, as I was afforded numerous facilities by the French authorities, this book is a reflection of the French view. I would remind such critics that the remoter districts of North Africa are still in military occupation, forbidden to the casual traveler, and that they may be visited with the permission of the French military authorities or not at all. Though such permission was promptly granted whenever I requested it, and though French officials of all grades went out of their way to show me courtesies and extend assistance, my judgment has not been affected by the consideration I received, nor my views biased, as the following pages will testify. To much that the French have accomplished in North Africa I raise my hat in respect and admiration; of other phases of their policy I do not approve. In both cases I have spoken my mind freely. My opinions may not be worth much, but at least they are my own.

E. ALEXANDER POWELL.

SUGAR HILL, NEW HAMPSHIRE, AUGUST, 1926.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

The journey described in the following pages was first suggested to me by a dear and deeply lamented friend, the late Hugues Le Roux, senator of France and a noted African explorer, who had taken an active and highly helpful interest in my preceding expeditions into the Dark Continent. Through the kindness of Senator Le Roux and of his charming American wife I met at their dinner-table many persons, some of them high in the French political world, who were of immense assistance to me.

M. Albert Sarraut, then minister of the colonies, and General Nollet, at the time minister of war, placed at my disposal all the facilities of their departments of the government. M. Jean Jules Jusserand, former French ambassador to the United States; his successor at the Washington embassy, M. Berenger; the Hon. Myron T. Herrick, American ambassador to France; Christian Gross, Esq., secretary of the American embassy in Paris; M. Marcel Knecht, the famous editor and publicist; M. Joseph Perret, director of the French Government Tourist Information Office in New York; and my old friend, James Hazen Hyde, Esq., all aided me with valuable advice and letters of introduction.

In Tunisia my path was made pleasant by the French resident-general, M. Lucien Saint; in Algeria by the governor-general, M. Théodore Steeg; and in Morocco by the resident-general, Marshal Lyautey. General Vicomte de Chambrun, commanding the French troops in Fez, from whom I have always received the warmest of welcomes upon my visits to that city; General Daugan, commanding the forces in Southern Morocco; Colonel Paul Azan, commanding at Tlemcen, in Algeria; and Vicomte Louis de Trémaudan, of the civil administration at Marrákesh, were all largely responsible for the pleasure and interest of my journey by making it possible for me to visit districts not as a rule open to Europeans. It was my great good fortune to have as my guide to the ruins of Carthage the Rev. Father Delattre of the Order of the White Fathers, who is one of the foremost archæologists in the world; while Miss Sophie Denison, who has been a medical missionary in Morocco for a third of a century, was of great assistance to me in Fez. Two voyages on the S.S. _La France_ were made delightful by the thoughtfulness of her commander, Captain Blancart, and the second captain, M. Vogel. In fact, throughout a journey of nearly fifteen thousand miles we were shown unfailing hospitality and kindness by every official with whom we came in contact, from his Imperial Majesty the sultan of Morocco, who received me in audience in his palace at Marrákesh, to subalterns in command of lonely desert outposts.

That the long journey, much of it in desert regions, was so replete with material comforts, was due to the great kindness of M. Jean dal Piaz, president of the Compagnie Générale Transatlantique, and to his able assistants, M. Maurice Tillier, director-general of the company in Paris; M. Robert Hallot, Chef du Services des Auto-Circuits Nord-Africains, and M. Georges Paignon, manager of the North African Tours Department in New York, who generously placed at my disposal all the facilities of their vast organization. It will be noted that in the following pages I have repeatedly called attention to the services provided for the traveler in North Africa by the “Transat.” Not to mention the part played by this company in the opening up of Barbary would be equivalent to ignoring the work of Fred Harvey and the Santa Fé in the development of the American West.

I also welcome this opportunity of acknowledging my indebtedness to C. F. and L. S. Grant, authors of “African Shores of the Mediterranean”; to L. March Phillips, Esq., author of “In the Desert”; to Norman Douglas, Esq., author of “Fountains in the Sand”; to Frances E. Nesbitt, author of “Algeria and Tunisia”; to Charles Thomas-Stanford, Esq., author of “About Algeria”; to the late Budgett Meakin, Esq., author of “Life in Morocco”; and to Sir Harry H. Johnston, Frank E. Cana, Esq., and Edward Heawood, Esq., authors of monographs in the “Encyclopædia Britannica” on Tunisia, Algeria, and the Sahara respectively. From all of the above works I have obtained historic and economic data and many valuable suggestions.

E. A. P.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. I NEVER SEE A MAP BUT I’M AWAY 3

II. THE GATE TO BARBARY 14

III. THE FACTORY OF STRANGE ODORS 26

IV. MID PLEASURES AND PALACES 42

V. CARTHAGO DELETA EST 56

VI. ASHES OF EMPIRE 82

VII. TO KAIROUAN THE HOLY 100

VIII. TROGLODYTES AND LOTUS-EATERS 119

IX. ACROSS THE SHATS TO THE SANDY SEA 144

X. THE CONQUEST OF THE SAHARA 158

XI. THE LAST HOME OF MYSTERY 179

XII. DOWN TO THE LAND OF THE MOZABITES 203

XIII. BISKRA, DEMI-MONDAINE OF THE DESERT 220

XIV. FRONTIERS OF ROME 238

XV. THE GRAND KABYLIA 263

XVI. THE CAPITAL OF THE CORSAIRS 278

XVII. FOLLOWING THE PIRATE COAST 304

XVIII. THE FOREIGN LEGION 323

XIX. THE STRUGGLE FOR POWER IN “THE FARTHEST WEST” 339

XX. FROM A FASI HOUSETOP 374

XXI. IN THE SHADOW OF THE SHEREEFIAN UMBRELLA 400

XXII. SOUTH TO THE FORBIDDEN SUS 424

A SHORT GLOSSARY OF ARABIC WORDS AND PHRASES
COMMONLY USED IN BARBARY 459

INDEX 469

ILLUSTRATIONS

FACING
PAGE

A soldier of Africa _Frontispiece_

Lo, all the pomp of yesterday 17

Here Scheherazade might have told her tales 32

Church and state in Tunisia 37

Thirteen centuries look down upon you 44

A gate to Barbary 49

They spend their holidays among the dead 64

The city of the mole-men 85

Homes of the Troglodytes 92

The voice from the minaret 97

The marabout in the desert 112

In the land of polygamy and passion 117

One of the most amazing ruins in the world 121

Medenine, the strangest city in the world 124

The Sun-God paints his picture in the West 129

Like feathered bonnets on the heads of a savage army 144

The fantastic dwellings of Mechounech 149

The forgotten of God 156

The sandy sea 161

Basking in the blinding sunlight of the Tunisian Sahara 176

The road to Timbuktu 181

Crossing the sand-dunes of the Grand Erg by motor 185

To prove that we were really there 188

A landmark for those who navigate the sea of sand 193

The shrine in the sands 196

The sand-storm 205

The sport of kings 208

The city of the Mozabites 213

Far hence, in some lone desert town 217

The start from Touggourt 220

The strange capital of a strange people 225

Desert damsels, old and young 229

What the pious Moslem expects to find in paradise 236

A Saharan market-place 240

The glory that was Rome 245

The city of the precipices 252

“Ul-l-l-l-l All-ah!” 273

Algiers, the capital of the Corsairs 280

Veiled women slip like sheeted ghosts 288

The resting-place of Cleopatra’s daughter 304

No, it is not always hot in Africa 321

The Moroccan is not afraid of mephitic maladies 328

The Riff 357

The price of empire 364

From out of the unknown 369

Strange folk from the far places 372

The panorama of the East 381

Forbidden to all save the faithful 384

In the city which gave the fez its name 389

Moroccan vaudeville 392

The Great Prayer outside of Fez 396

The harkas come down from the hills 401

A place of walled delight 408

The peace of Allah 416

The shadow of God on earth 421

A refuge of the rovers 424

The red city 428

The minarets of Marrákesh 433

The Aguenaou Gate of Marrákesh 437

The puppet and the man who pulled the strings 440

The empire-builder 440

Overlords of the southland 444

Most people think of Morocco as a semi-arid country 448

The stronghold of the Caïd Goundafi, overlord of the Forbidden Sus 452

A seat of feudal power 456

MAPS

Outline map showing the French possessions in Africa 8

Map showing the countries of Barbary 24

IN BARBARY