Chapter XXXII

THE FRENCH OCCUPATION OF THE CITY OF TUNIS.

The immediate consequence of the Oued Zerga disaster was a very natural agitation for the occupation of the metropolis by a French garrison. Sympathising as I did with the wrongs of the Tunisians, I saw unmistakable signs that an anti-Christian outbreak might at any moment occur. The general hostility which the Protectorate had given rise to all over the country was intensified by General Sabatier’s vigorous but destructive _reconnaissances_ around Zaghouán, and might be reasonably expected to reach a culminating point at the fall and possible pollution of Kairwán. The discomfiture of Ali Bey and the atrocities of Oued Zerga were now notoriously the subject of ill-disguised public rejoicings amongst the Arabs, both at Tunis and the neighbouring “holy city” of Sidi Bou Said, and the averted faces and gloomy looks of the strangers, who now thronged the streets, told their own tale of hatred and dislike. M. Roustan alone deprecated the occupation, as it always afforded him a useful diplomatic lever, to influence the mind of the Bey, who still seemed anxious, when all else was lost, to preserve at any cost uncontrolled possession of his capital. At this critical juncture, the brutal murder of an inoffending Maltese coachman within sight of the city walls decided the fate of Tunis, and with many fears the Bey wrote a letter to the Ferik or Governor, informing him “that his allies _had consented_ to stay for a time in the forts and citadel, and were to be received and treated like brothers, and that if by chance they found it necessary to pitch any camps, they were in no way to be hindered.” Meanwhile the manager of the railway to the frontier issued notices suspending all traffic beyond Medjez-el-Bab. Still the French authorities seemed to hesitate; the Belvidere hill overlooking the city was occupied by a small camp and fortified with a battery of artillery, and regiments from Manouba on two or three occasions passed close to the town gates.

French troops now went to the rescue of Ali Bey, but the Arabs showed no signs of surrender. On the 5th October they were with difficulty beaten off in an attack on the Tunisian guns, and the French intimated to Ali Bey that a more vigorous action was necessary. An assault on the insurgents’ camp was consequently concerted for the following morning (October 6th). The headquarters of the heir-apparent were at this time situated half a mile south of Testour, the French occupying a position to their left, and the Arabs a very favourable one on a hill two miles distant. The insurgents numbered about 5000 men, and were nearly all mounted. Ali Bey marched at dawn, followed by the French troops, whose presence in the rear rendered any further resistance to the Bey’s orders impossible, for it now transpired that previous to the arrival of the French reinforcements his soldiers refused to attack their fellow- countrymen. The struggle lasted four hours. The insurgents, finding themselves hard pressed, suddenly set fire to their camp, and retreated from the neighbourhood. The French fired six projectiles on the fugitives at the end of the engagement, but otherwise took no active part in the fighting. Only three rebels were taken prisoners, and the loss on either side was not great. One French soldier was mortally wounded.

This engagement put an end to the dilemma in which Ali Bey had been placed for several weeks, and he was now directed to move his camp in the direction of Zaghouán. The news of the occupation of Tunis once more aroused the latent hostility of his followers, and he was again threatened with a mutiny. It was in vain that General Ben Turkiya cleft the head of an imprudent soldier, who boldly anathematised the treason of Muhamed es Sadek; the troops would no longer offer the heir-apparent the usual honours. Most of the irregulars were at once disbanded, and a month later just enough men remained to furnish the necessary guards and do police duty in Tunis itself. The collapse of the Tunisian army was now complete, and it could scarcely have been more ignominious. Its present existence is entirely confined to the delusive statistics of the Tunisian almanac, and to the legion of generals and colonels, headed by General-of-Division Elias Musalli, whose exalted military rank General Japy obstinately refused to recognise.

On the 9th October workmen were busy in clearing out the heaps of rubbish which filled the habitable portion of the citadel, and masons were engaged in opening an unusual doorway in the bastion. It was clear, therefore, that the occupation would not be long delayed. The time has now come when I should describe the capital of the Regency, so soon to lose the charms of an Oriental metropolis.

The city of Tunis covers the eastern slope of a rocky hill which divides the less turbid lake El Bahira (or “the little sea”) from the more turbid lake Sebka-es-Sedjoumi (or “the shallows of salt”). A narrow canal at Goletta, seven miles as the crow flies to the east of Tunis, separates “the little sea” from the Mediterranean. The configuration of Tunis is strictly after the manner of most Moslem cities; the Kasbah, or citadel, occupies the crest of a hill, and a labyrinth of tortuous streets finds its way thence to the plain at its foot. The whole is, or rather was, surrounded by a wall, which traversed in its circuit a distance of seven miles. Twenty years ago the town wall was perfect, but about half a mile of the bastion has since gradually and almost imperceptibly disappeared in the Frankish quarter, and now forms the site of a street called appropriately La Rue des Remparts. The great eastern gate of Tunis (the Bab-el-Bhar) has therefore no longer any practical utility, having lost the support of the wall on either side of it; but outside the European _faubourg_ the mediæval defences of Tunis are still in a tolerable state of preservation. From one of the neighbouring hills an excellent bird’s-eye view of Tunis can be obtained. In the sun its essential feature is a dazzling and unrelieved whiteness, but its inhabitants perversely enough still call it El Háthra, or “the green.” Tunis possesses seven chief gates, besides several posterns. Each of these gates is protected by a fort having its cannon sometimes _en barbette_, but oftener mounted in embrasures. The walls of the lower town have no defence but these batteries, but towards the north and west the ramparts are bisected at intervals by towers. The principal gates of Tunis are the Bab-el-Bhar, on the lake side; the Bab- el-Háthra, the Bab Abdu Selam, and the Bab-es-Sadum towards the Bardo Palace and the Manouba; the Bab Sidi Abdallah, under the shadow of the citadel; the Bab Sidi Alewa, on the road to Zaghouán and Kairwán; and the Bab-es-Zira, on that leading to Susa and the coast. The whole of these gates (with the single exception of the Bab-el-Bhar) are closed at sunset, and as the keys are commonly supposed to remain till dawn under the pillow of the Ferik, or Arab Governor, the benighted traveller has no other resource than to avail himself of the scanty accommodation afforded by the guard-houses outside the walls.

In addition to the _enceinte_, the somewhat abrupt descent on the north- western side of Tunis is defended by three large forts built three centuries ago by the soldiers of Charles V. and his son, and called respectively Borj Manoubia, Borj Filfla, and Borj-el-Rebta. A lofty aqueduct constructed at the same time supplied them as well as the adjacent citadel with water from a distant spring, but it has now fallen into ruins, and is popularly described as of Roman origin. The Borj-el- Rebta is a splendid specimen of the science of fortification as understood by our forefathers. It is surrounded by a deep fosse, and bristles with useless cast-iron guns which serve to deceive the Tunisians since the Bey paid one of his loans ten years ago by the sale of all the brass and bronze cannon in the Regency.

The city of Tunis is commanded by two hills in its immediate vicinity—viz., Sidi Bil Hassan, properly called Borj Sidi Ali Rais, to the south, and the Belvedere to the north. The fortress which crowns the former belongs to a period far anterior to that in which the Borj-el- Rebta was built, but its position is unrivalled. It dominates all the roads to Southern Tunis, and its elevation is some hundreds of feet above that of the Kasbah, or town citadel. Beyond it are two imposing looking sanctuaries, one of which is every Friday crowded with Tunisian ladies, who profess to find a cure for sterility in sliding down a rock on the slope of the hill upon which the _Zaouia_ in question is built. Belvedere was never fortified till the French appeared before Tunis in the early days of October 1881. The guns of Sidi Bil Hassan and the Borj-el-Rebta were sufficient to prevent its heights being occupied by the troops of the Dey of Algiers or the supporters of some rival to the beylical throne, the only enemies which Tunis has seen from its walls since the Spaniards evacuated it in 1574, and the friendly expanse of the “little sea” efficiently protected it from the artillery of Blake and the bombardments of half the fleets of Europe, which have repeatedly razed Goletta to the ground. The Belvedere hill was, however, the very first point occupied by the French troops, and was made the site of a strongly-intrenched camp, and fortified by earthworks.

The Arabs occupy the upper portion of the town, the Jews a wholly distinct quarter below the Moorish city, and the Europeans the plain between the hill and the lake. Although the streets are tortuous beyond description, they all converge either on the citadel or the European Piazza. To lose your way in Tunis is difficult. If you ascend you ultimately arrive in the square before the Kasbah; if you descend you must eventually come to the Piazza, flanked on one side by the British Consulate and on the other by the old Bab-el-Bhar, or city gate. Under the auspices of the late British representative, Sir Richard Wood, C.B., G.C.M.G., an extensive Maltese _faubourg_ (Malta Sghira, or Little Malta) sprang up on the north side of the European quarter, and during the _régime_ of M. Roustan, a French colony soon bid fair to fill up the entire space between the Bab-el-Bhar and the “little sea” with a miniature Algiers.

At dawn on the 10th October I traversed the narrow streets of the Arab town, and emerging from the Sidi Abdallah gate, stood on the crest of the hill overlooking the Bardo and Manouba plain. Barely a dozen yards from the entrance to the upper city, a gloomy looking portal, covered with rusty sheet iron, had been opened for the first time this century. This doorway, pierced in the rough sandstone of the old Spanish _enceinte_, led through some gloomy vaults into the very centre of the venerable citadel. Close by a Tunisian guard was drawn up, and a little in advance of the door and nearer the brow of a hill, were the Governor and Vice-Governor of the town, sitting on their horses, and patiently waiting to do Sidna’s behests, and “welcome the conquerors as brothers.” Their aides-de-camp carried huge umbrellas instead of arms, but abject shame was written on the face of every individual composing that little group. Since the days when Carthaginian captives graced a Roman triumph, I doubt if history has known many greater humiliations, than that of these unfortunate Tunisian officers, compelled by political expediency to conduct their enemies with smiles and blandishments into the heart of the capital of their country.

I asked the Vice-Governor, Sy Hasan Emdelgi (one of the most magnificent men I ever saw, and at least 6 feet 5 inches in height), the name of the lately opened postern. He smiled, as only Moors can smile, and said significantly, “Bab-el-Ghadar,” which is, being interpreted, “the traitor’s door.” A few minutes later I saw the French troops winding up the hill towards the town. At eight o’clock precisely two battalions of infantry and a battery of artillery reached the Kasbah, and quietly entered it by the “Bab-el-Ghadar.” From the hill I could distinctly see the cavalry under General Maurand making for the “Bab-el-Háthra” or Gate of Verdure. In the course of the morning a French camp was pitched on the parade opposite the French Residency, and the forts Rebta and Ali Raïs were occupied by the troops. These movements had hardly begun when M. Roustan issued a circular to the Consular body, signed by him as French Minister Resident and delegate of the Bey, informing the foreign representatives of the occupation of Tunis as a military and defensive measure. The acting Italian Consul-General refused even to acknowledge its receipt. At ten o’clock Signor Pestalozza, chief interpreter of the Italian Consulate, proceeded to Goletta to present to the Bey a lengthy protest drawn up by Signor Raybaudi Massiglia, acting Italian Consul- General and political agent, in the name of the Italian Government against the military occupation of Tunis as a violation of the Italian Convention of 1868, and holding the Bey responsible for the consequences.

It afterwards transpired that a regular convention had been agreed upon for the occupation of the town between the Bey and the Minister Resident, by which it was stipulated that the French should reach the citadel by an unused gate, that no triumphal demonstration should be made during the entry, that the mosques and sanctuaries should be respected, that native police officers should accompany any troops patrolling the Arab quarters, and that the French and Tunisian flags should be hoisted together at certain points on Fridays and Sundays. Later in the day I obtained an order to visit the Kasbah, or citadel, which has rarely, if ever, been seen by a European since the Spaniards evacuated it in 1574. The _enceinte_ is about a mile in extent, and, excepting a stucco façade looking towards the city, every building above ground within it is hopelessly ruined, but even the remains of the Spanish works of the sixteenth century are still magnificent. Its whole area is traversed by enormous vaults, which are yet tolerably perfect. Heaps of stone projectiles are to be seen in all directions; not a single gun on the ramparts is any longer serviceable; and in the centre of the ruins is an Arab tomb of exquisite beauty.

A week or so afterwards I had an opportunity of seeing the Dar-el-Bey, or Town Palace, which is undoubtedly one of the most remarkable buildings in the city, and occupies one side of the square facing the citadel, which, strangely enough, received the name of Souk-el-Islam three years ago, when Kheir-ed-Din Pacha was pleased to adorn it with two rows of shops, built in a bastard kind of Hispano-Moorish style, which were to be only tenanted by true believers. The exclusion of the Jews ensured the speedy failure of the Souk-el-Islam as a commercial speculation, and the shops and arcades became tenantless within a year of the brilliant _fête_ which celebrated its inauguration; but its projector had become meanwhile Grand Vizier of the Ottoman Empire. The Dar-el-Bey contains a few rooms which the Alhambra might envy (especially an octagon chamber, surmounted by a cupola lined with lace- like carving in cement), but all that is modern is in the worst possible taste of Southern Italy. The old suite of apartments was occupied by Caroline of Brunswick, who, as I have before mentioned, happened to be visiting Tunis when Lord Exmouth threatened to bombard Goletta a few days after his attack on Algiers. Three years ago the comparatively new and hideous portion of the palace was redecorated and refurnished for the accommodation of the brother of the Emperor of Germany and his daughter, who were entertained by the Bey for several days. In the Dar- el-Bey Muhamed es Sadek received the Grand Cross of the Bath at the hands of Admiral Yelverton, and there he has welcomed in succession three of our own royal princes within the last quarter of a century. All this is over now. One of the bitterest pangs the Bey has suffered since he became a French vassal last May, was occasioned him a fortnight ago, when M. Roustan demanded the surrender of the Dar-el-Bey, as a residence for General Lambert and a site for the new Tunisian _Bureaux Arabes_. The old man wept, and pleaded in vain his religious obligation to pass there the twenty-seventh day of each Ramadan fast. Of course he yielded at last, but he refused to be comforted, even when the Resident cynically remarked that the French would take good care of him at Tunis, and consider him their guest during the next Ramadan. When I last visited the Dar-el-Bey, workmen were busy in cleaning and painting the rooms which had been occupied by the Prussian Red Prince, and which were being furbished up for General Lambert, Commander of the Republican Guard of Paris, whose nomination as Military Governor of Tunis was daily expected. A group of old Turkish guards were looking on dolefully enough at the proceedings of the French soldiers, and on the façade of the palace at least a dozen of General Saussier’s manifestoes were rudely pasted up. The general’s proclamation, in Arabic, ran thus:—

_Notice from the General commanding the French Forces._

As Commander-in-Chief of the French Army in Tunis, it becomes my duty to inform the tribes of this country that the French Government, as an ally of his Highness the Bey of Tunis has sent me here to restore tranquillity. Those who till now are in peace have nothing to fear. The French soldiers will interfere with nobody; but at the same time, a signal punishment will await those who rebel against the authority of the Bey, or endeavour to induce others to revolt against him.

Given at the French Camp at Goletta, on this the 16th day of October 1881.

(Signed)

The Commander-in-Chief, SAUSSIER.

The great door of the Kasbah looking into the Souk-el-Islam was still closed, not to be opened until General Lambert came into residence at the Dar-el-Bey. The untenanted shops might also have been utilised for the French garrison, as the tents among the scorpions and other reptiles which frequent the ruins of Spanish magnificence inside the citadel, are hardly habitable during the autumn rains.

The transformation of the once Moslem city _par excellence_ of Barbary into a French garrison town is going on slowly but surely. Its inhabitants are now awakened by French bugle-calls; gendarmes are stationed at all the principal points, both within and without the walls; one police post after another is quietly vacated by its ragged Tunisian occupants and unobtrusively occupied by French soldiers; the General Commandant des Troupes Françaises dans la Circonscription de Tunis has rented a large house adjoining the Residency for a year, and the Archbishop of Algeria and Tunis has taken a five years’ lease of an eligible palace, and is building a Cathedral. The _cafés_ and hotels are full of French officers, both civil and military, and grandly dressed Algerian _goums_ drink their absinthe at the innumerable _buvettes_ which have sprung up in all directions as if by magic, and clank their swords on the pavement as if the annexation of the Regency to Algeria was already a _fait accompli_. The Jews rejoice in the occupation as a source of security and profit, the Italians detest it as a death-blow to all their hopes, the French and Maltese regard it with a feeling very much akin to relief, and the Arabs speak of it with bated breath; and although their belief in _kismet_ is strong, they still hope against hope that somehow or other the Sultan and Caliph will one day have his own again.