The Land of the Bey. Being impressions of Tunis under the French

Chapter I. How

I ATE BOUILLABAISSE AT MARSEILLES. PAGK A mad holiday scheme — Prophecies of evil — Paris after rain — In the " Rapide '' — Marseilles — A dish of Bouillabaisse, and a disillusionment 1

Chapter II. On Board The

" CHARLES QUINT." A noble ship — Fellow-passengers — The vivandiere — Husbands and wives — A defect in the ship's arrangements — " Why is an Englishman never sea-sick ? " — Bone — Hair-cutting made easy — Colonel Allegro — The vivandiere distinguishes herself — A sudden change

Chapter III

A WHITE SQUALL. A crowded deck — Rough seas — La Calle and its boatmen — A sea-fight on a small scale — Dinner under difficulties — Trying to sleep — The small miseries of life — The Gulf of Tunis — A beautiful prospect — Goletta — My friend Afrigan — Jewish women — French soldiers . . .38 Contents. IV chapter IV. A FIRST GLIMPSE OF TUNIS. PAGE An African railway-station — Fellow-countrymen — Mr. Parnell's arrest — The " Little Sea '' — African scenery — Sketches by the road-side — Camels, Moors, Bedouins — Tunis— The Grand Hotel— The Bab el Bahr— Tunisian costumes— The " Grande Rue de Tunis " — The bazaars — The slave -market 57

Chapter V. The English Consulate

Mr. Reade — His appointment as Consul-General — Changed circumstances — The Consul at home — Walls of blue china — The Consul's duties — An offensive globe-trotter — A drive round the city walls — The Spanish aqueduct — The forts of Tunis — An awkward dilemma — My vivandiere in trouble — An English home in Tunis — A sudden alarm 78

Chapter VI

A DAT AT CARTHAGE. The pious Æneas — A street scene — A nondescript vehicle — The road to Carthage — A wayside tragedy — Bedouin children — Delenda est Carthago — An Empire's dust — Dido's Palace — The cisterns of Carthage — A lovely situation — The College of St. Louis — English ladies in Tunis 95

Chapter VII. Walks About Tunis

The English burial-ground — A sad spot — The author of " Home, sweet Home " — An Arab fortune-teller — On the top of a volcano — The " fanatical quarters " — More Contents. V PAGE 178 eastern than the East — Shopping in the bazaars — Mo hamed the shopkeeper — Driving a bargain — Time versus money .......... 116

Chapter VIII. Outside Tunis

Risks outside the walls — A tantalizing prospect — The gates of Tunis — The Belvedere hill— The French' camp — Typhus — A fine prospect — A visit to the Marsa — Mr. Reade's country-house — A country drive — Taib Bey — The fall of Kairwan — The Bardo — The suzerainty of the Caliph — A quaint custom ...... 137

Chapter IX. On The Road To Kairwan

The story of a failure — Friendly warnings — Uxorious Afrigan — A change of diet — I start for Susa — An African thunderstorm — Susa — Troublous times — A busy scene — A miniature railway — The English "Vice-Consul — Preparations for camping -out — -A new servant — Disappointed — A " Parisian Hotel " in the Gulf of Hammamet — A risky expedition — A faithful follower . . . 159

Chapter X

A GALE OFF CAPE BON. A night of misery — No chance of seeing Kairwan — The Great Mosque of Susa — The Vice-Consul's house — An English captive in Susa — Arab revolvers — Old friends — On board the Ville de Naples — A disturbed meal — Running for shelter — Rounding Cape Bon — Glasgow for ever ! Contents. VI PAGE 221

Chapter XI. Last Dats At Tunis

A retrospect — The captain of the Aristides — A curious meeting — Tunis again — Farewell visits — Rich shopkeepers — A last tussle with Mohamed — A real Arab gentleman — The Jeweller's Bazaar — A visit to the Jewish quarter — An Arabian Night's Entertainment — Dining, drinking, dancing 197

Chapter XII. Good-bte To Goletta

An Arab holiday — A state reception — A last look at the Bab el Bahr — The heir apparent — An English sailor's courage — Italian greed — The Sicilia — Sea-sick Arabs

Chapter XIII. Homeward Bound

Malta— The Union Club— A delightful change— The harbour by moonlight — A thrilling scene — the Elettrico — Etna — Messina — Between Scylla and Charybdis — Sunrise off Naples — Home again ..... 210

Chapter XIV. Politics In Tunis

A survey of the situation — M. Roustan's policy — The first campaign — The Treaty of the Bardo — The insurrection — Bombardment of Sfax — Occupation of Tunis — March upon Kairwan — Capture of Kairwan — Results of the French policy — English interests — Estrangement of Italy TO W. H. MUDFORD, Esq. Mt dear Mudford, — Although the days of patrons and of epistles dedicatory have passed away, it is still permissible to in scribe the name of a friend on the fly-leaf of a book. I venture, therefore, to associate your name with this trifling record of a pleasant holiday trip. I do so not because you were in a certain sense connected with part of my experiences in Tunis, nor even because in common with all who have any knowledge of the Press I recognize and rejoice in the great position you have gained in English Journal ism ; but because I wish to keep alive the memory of times long past, when you and I were bound together by the ties of an in timacy that was personal as well as proses- Dedication.

VIII sional, and that did not a little to cheer and strengthen me in a dark crisis of my life. " Able editors," though they are by no means common in this world, may still by a happy chance be met with at any period of one's existence ; but after a man has reached a certain age, if he does not cease to make friends he at least discovers that he cannot afford to part with any of those whom he made whilst he was still young. It is therefore rather to my old friend, than to the journalist who has done much to revive the best traditions of the English Press, that I ask leave to dedicate this simple story ; and whilst I do so, may I add the expression of a hope that many years of usefulness and honour still lie before you ? Yours always, T. Wemyss Reid. Leeds, Feb. 20th, 1882.

Introduction

. Recent events have attracted so much attention to Northern Africa, and to that part of it over which the Bey of Tunis has hitherto ruled, that it seems unnecessary to offer any apology for the publication of this volume. But if an apology is unnecessary, an explanation is undoubtedly called for. Let me say then that I make no pretensions to any special knowledge of Tunis. I have not attempted to write a history of the Regency — though such a history could hardly fail to be intensely interesting ; nor have I even sought to give a complete account of the country as it is now to be seen by visitors from a distance. Several circumstances made it impossible that I should a X Introduction. do this. During the time I spent in Tunis, as will be gathered from the following pages, the country was not only in a state of war, but was under the influence of a very vehement anti-Christian feeling.

That feeling had found expression in hideous massacres of Christians who had fallen into the hands of the so-called " insurgent Arabs." French armies were in occupation of different points in the Regency, and were about to begin the march to the sacred city of Kairwan; and Tunis itself had, as a matter of precaution, been strongly occupied by the soldiers of the Republic. As a result of this state of things it had become dangerous for any Christian to go beyond the very limited districts in which the French troops were actually posted. Even in Tunis itself it was perilous to visit certain quarters of the city at any time, and after dark no European could walk about the streets safely. Conse quently it was not possible for a visitor at this particular moment to see so much of the coun- Introduction.

XI try as he could have done under happier circumstances — or, indeed, so much of it as he may see now, when there appears to be a temporary lull in the excitement of the Arab population. My story therefore is not a complete one. But I have endeavoured to tell, as simply and honestly as possible, the tale of a brief visit paid tO the Regency at a very exciting time, and to give some account of the many scenes and persons of interest I encountered during my sojourn in the Land of the Bey. As it happened, I had some advantages as a traveller which enabled me to meet with people and to enter houses not usually accessible to Englishmen ; and I have sought to tell an unvarnished and straightforward story about them. I might have added a great deal of information about the Regency generally, and the city of Kairwan in particular, for I gathered not a little knowledge of these subjects whilst I was in Tunis ; but since I left the country Kairwan itself has been visited by Europeans, Introduction. and is now accessible to travellers, and I do not think it desirable therefore to inflict my secondhand evidence upon the reader.

If what I have written of my own experiences and actual observations should induce him to follow my example, and to spend a holiday in Tunis, I feel certain that he will consider himself well repaid for his pains by the enjoyment which the novel and picturesque sights of that strange and romantic land cannot fail to afford him.

Chapter I. How

I ATE BOUILLABAISSE AT MARSEILLES. A mad holiday scheme — Prophecies of evil — Paris after rain- In the " Rapide " — Marseilles — A dish of Bouillabaisse, and a disillusionment. " Go to Tunis ! " cried all my friends, when I intimated my intention of taking a holiday in that little-visited district of Northern Africa; " why, you must be mad to think of it." And then from each in succession there was poured forth a catalogue of the dangers, difficulties, and hardships which I was certain to encounter if I ventured into the dominions of the Bey. "Do younot knowthat the country is in a state of war ; that a French army is on the point of occupying the city of Tunis itself; that the Arabs are murdering every European they can catch, and the French, not to be behind them, are doing the same by the Arabs ?

" " Have you read those a horrible revelations about the prevalence of typhoid fever in Tunis ? They say they are dying there by hundreds daily." " Do you know what the African climate is P Have you any conception of the heat of an African sun ? " These were but specimens of the admonitions poured into my unheeding ears by my kind friends. The truth was that my determination to visit Tunis dated from a lovely day in October, 1880, when, sailing in the good ship Sidon towards Malta, I had the entrance to the Gulf of Tunis pointed out to me. Until that moment, although I had often looked at the place upon the map, I had never thoroughly realized its nearness to the shores of Europe. Tunis had seemed like Morocco or Timbuctoo or Lake N'gami, a mysterious spot shut out from the civilized world.

But when I saw that this land in which the manners and customs of the East are to be found to-day in a degree of perfection which is unknown at Stamboul, was within four and-twenty hours' sail of Malta, I inwardly resolved that, if the Fates were propitious, I should make it the goal of my next year's holiday. The State of Tunis. 3 Between that trip in the Sidon and my voyage in the following year a good many things had happened at Tunis. M. Roustan, aided by his accomplices in Paris, had planned and carried out the greatest act of international brigandage upon record, and unoffending Tunis had been violently seized by the French army in the name of a gang of mercenary conspirators. The hot-blooded Arabs and Moors of the regency had not been slow to resent the usurpation of the infidel, and a bitter war had begun.

It was in the very midst of this war, on the day on which a French army entered the city of Tunis it self and made themselves masters of the capital, that I set off on my journey from a Yorkshire town to an African State. I pro pose to tell the story of that journey in some detail in these pages ; for it was one of sin gular interest, albeit accompanied by more than one unpleasant adventure, and attended at times by an amount of discomfort that often caused me to smile grimly at the notion that I was engaged upon a pleasure excursion. In describing my experiences, I shall quote largely from the diary which' I kept from day to day all through my journey ; B but if at any moment I feel inclined to dwell upon a particular scene or incident, the reader will forgive me if I lay my diary aside, and enlarge upon the rough notes made upon the spot.

I can promise him that whether in quoting from my diary or in giving a detailed description of the various scenes I witnessed — some of which were of more than ordinary interest — I shall do my best to keep most strictly within the limits of the truth. Circumstances not unconnected with an important incident in the political history of Leeds reduced the amount of time at my dis posal for preparation for the journey to a few hours. Still the time was sufficient to enable me to lay in the stock of light summer cloth ing that I required. I shall not soon forget the amazed look of a certain shop-keeper in Briggate, when on a stormy October day I ransacked his stores in search of his lightest neck-ties, handkerchiefs, stockings, and hats, such as, in his opinion, could only be worn in the hottest days of an English summer.

A revolver, a box of quinine pills, and some other simple medicines, a portable filter, a very large bottle of vermin powder, and a goodly flask filled with the finest brandy A lost Key. 5 formed part of my equipment. The brandy, like the medicine, was carefully set aside for an emergency ; not to be used, in fact, save in case of illness. In due time the emergency arrived, and I then found the provision I had made for it invaluable. Wednesday, October 12th, 1881. — There is always something to be done at the last moment. Starting from my hotel this morning to catch the tidal express at Charing Cross, I made the melancholy discovery that I had lost the key of one of my portmanteaus, which accordingly could not be locked. I knew what a railway journey from London to Marseilles with an open portmanteau por tended, and not wishing to lose half my effects before I reached the shores of the Mediterranean, I set about procuring another key.

There was very little time to spare. I dashed into one shop after another in the Strand, and finally, just in the nick of time, got what I wanted. There was a great crowd of passengers at Charing Cross, and the usual bustle and confusion in getting the baggage registered. But at eleven o'clock punctually the train started to run through the beauti ful country between London and Folkestone. The day was dull and raw, and the southern suburbs of the metropolis looked melancholy enough in that damp atmosphere ; but one's eye rested lovingly upon them, as each successive name at the wayside stations recalled some happy incident iu " the days that are no more." My travelling companions to Folkestone were a returned Australian, who had left England when he was two years old, and an Irish gentleman and his pretty sisters.

" Remember, girls," said the Irishman as we drew near to Folkestone, " that sea-sickness is not an affection of the stomach but of the brain. All you have to do is to bear that fact in mind, and there will be no fear of your being sea-sick." Folkestone was in gala dress when we reached the place. In spite of the wind and rain the little town was crowded ; bands of music were playing, flags were flying, and cannon were being fired. The Prince and Princess of Wales were laying the foundation stone of some new docks, so that our last look at England showed us a loyal population yelling themselves hoarse round the carriage in which rode the heir-apparent and his pretty wife. Before we got clear of Folke- An exploded Theory. 7 stone harbour the wind had increased to half a gale, and no sooner were we outside than our wretched little boat began to pitch and roll horribly.

Then followed the usual scene. There were 220 passengers on board, and before long fully 200 of these were groan ing and writhing in the agonies of sea-sickness. Even those who were proof against the malady — among whom I could happily count myself — had an uncomfortable time of it, for the vessel shipped an immense quantity of water. I had, of course, packed my waterproof in one of my portmanteaus, so that I was quickly drenched to the skin, my through ticket to Marseilles being reduced to something like a state of pulp. Among the earliest of those who succumbed to the sea was my Irish friend of the railway train. Either there was a flaw in his theory con cerning sea-sickness, or, like certain other preachers, he expounded doctrines which his own faith was too weak to enable him to accept.

The grey, storm-laden sky, the broken foam-topped waves, and the labouring boat, wrapped in its cloud of spray, made up a fine picture ; but the groans of misery all around me, and the sights and smells of the vessel detracted greatly from one's enjoyment of it. After a passage of nearly three hours' duration we reached Boulogne. Some of the passengers had suffered so much that they decided to stay there for the night, but, of course, most of us went on to Paris, after paying the usual exorbitant tax to the keeper of the buffet. We had a curious assemblage in the carriage in which I found a seat. There was a shabbily-dressed old gentleman who persistently smoked a black wooden pipe, and whom I eventually discovered to be an English general on his way to his post in India, another Indian going out to manage a newly-discovered gold-mine, a smart young fellow bound for China, myself for Tunis, and three pleasure-seeking tourists intent upon Paris and the Rhine, one of whom I recogr nized as an old schoolfellow of my own.

We reached Paris at 10.30 instead of eight. So much for Sir Edward Watkin's performances as compared with his promises. After a long detention at the Custom House, where, however, the usual civility was shown to us, I and the two travellers to India found quarters in the Grand Hotel, the familiar Paris 9 courtyard of which I find is now lighted by electricity. Thursday, October 12>th. — A beautiful morn ing after yesterday's rain and storm. Paris was looking her best when I strolled out after my first breakfast, to secure a place in the sleeping-car for Marseilles and a berth for Tunis. The sleeping-car, alas ! is not yet on the line. " It will be put on to morrow." I always find when I miss a good thing of this sort that if I could only wait till to-morrow it would be all right. Among misleading proverbs there is none that more urgently requires revision than that about " the early bird."

Or perhaps I am one of those unfortunates who are doomed by cir. cumstances to take the worm's view of the situation. I do not find there will be any difficulty in getting a berth in to-morrow's steamer from Marseilles to Tunis. " Mon sieur, nobody goes there at present," says the clerk in the office of the Transatlantic Company when I inquire upon the subject. I drive up the beautiful Champs Elysees to call upon the L.'s. How charming Paris looks to-day in the bright sunshine, with the trees just beginning to assume the tints of autumn ! One feels all the temptations of the spot strong upon one, and there is an urgent desire to inquire whether a later boat might not be just as suitable as to-morrow's for the voyage. After luncheon, during which Mrs. L. ex presses her horror at the notion of any one visiting Tunis for pleasure at this moment, I go to the Ministry of War, accompanied by L., in order to ascertain if any special per mission is needed to get into Tunis.

A very polite official distinctly assures me that nothing of the kind is required, and that I can not only enter Tunis, but travel about in it as freely as I please. " Or rather as the Arabs please," I think of suggesting; but upon second thoughts it strikes me that the joke might not be appreciated. Before I tear myself away from the flesh-pots of Egypt, I must have one good dinner at least; so we betake ourselves to Champeau's, close to the Bourse, and there indulge in those "luxuries of the Salt Market," which I can not hope to carry with me across the Medi terranean. The dinner, which is begun with oysters, is fairly good; but the bill for it is unfairly big. This, however, is nothing to An unexpected Pleasure. 11 what I have to face at the Grand Hotel, where I am charged thirteen francs for my room on the fourth floor !

As I sit smoking a last cigar in the well-known courtyard, meditating upon merry parties I have joined in here in former days, the evening papers bring me the announcement of Parnell's arrest. At that moment my travelling com panion of yesterday, General A , passes me, and I tell him the news. " Hurrah ! " shouts the general, regardless of the fashion able crowd around him, and his battered hat goes spinning up into the air in token of his joy. Friday, Oct. l^th. — A night in a French train is always a painful penance, and my journey from Paris to Marseilles has been no exception to the rule. We started from the Lyons Railway Station at twenty minutes past seven last night. Of course the carriage was full. Happily, I succeeded in getting a seat facing one of the windows, and I was thus able to ensure the admittance of a little fresh air.

Presently, as we stole onwards during the raw, dark night I saw that the window at the other eud of the carriage was also open. I blessed my fate which had sent me as a travelling companion a Frenchman who actually liked fresh air. I was still marvelling over the mystery of the existence of such a being when the gentleman who was keeping guard over that window, addressed me in excellent English. " Oh," I said, "you're an Englishman, are you ? That ex plains your open window. But why did you speak to me in French before ?" " Because I thought you were a Frenchman ; and it was only when I saw your open window that I knew you weren't." Needless to say, the companionship of my new acquaintance, Captain A , of the Carlton Club, beguiled the journey, at any rate duringits later stages, when we had shaken off the somnolence of night. ft^ It was quite cold towards dawn.

When day broke we found ourselves running through something which bore a suspicious resem blance to an English November fog. And this was in Valence ! Clearly the " sunny south " had not yet been reached. At Avig non, however, the fog had cleared off, and I could get a good view of the famous ruins and admire the beautiful situation of the town. From Avignon to Marseilles the sun became hotter and ever hotter. The scenery Marseilles. 13 on either side of the line reminded ine much of bits of Malta. There was the same scanty covering of earth upon the white chalk-like rocks, and the same semi-tropical vegetation. At last Marseilles itself was reached, about an hour and a half behind time. Here it was as hot and as glaring as on that day when the story of " Little Dorrit " began, goodness knows how many years ago.

I had some trouble in getting my baggage out of the train ; but I had at the same time occasion to admire the courtesy and good arrangements of the railway officials. When my portmanteaus had been placed in the cab, an inspector asked me where I wished to be driven to, and then handed me a printed paper on which he had filled up the amount to which the cabman was entitled ! I wonder when the unlucky foreigner arriving in our beloved London will meet with a similar attention. Marseilles is much more picturesquely situated than I had expected. It lies at the bottom of a fine bay, with jutting promon tories of high rocks running out into the Mediterranean on either side. Behind it is a range of barren hills in the form of an amphitheatre. The glare of white from the city and the surrounding country is positively painful.

As for the town itself, it reminded me in one part of Glasgow —Glasgow with an Italian sky overhead ! —in another part of Paris, and in a third of Syra. It seems, indeed, to present a curious admixture of different styles of street architecture ; but the prevailing type is decidedly Oriental. As I drove through the glaring streets down to the dock where my steamer for Tunis lay, I saw the lazzaroni lying sleeping in the noon-day sun, and, among curious or unfamiliar spectacles, I had time to observe the professional letter-writer in the Market square, to whom a girl was whispering some message of love or intrigue. It was delightful on reaching the steamboat, a splendid Glasgow-built vessel, belonging to the Transatlantic Company, to be able to in dulge in a bath and a change of linen. After that, as much refreshed as though I had been in bed for the traditional eight hours, I set forth to keep rendezvous with my travellino* acquaintance, Captain A , at the Maison Doree, in order that we might together par take of Bouillabaisse.

Bouillabaisse. 15 Do you know what Bouillabaisse is, good reader ? Possibly not ; and yet I can hardly suppose that you are ignorant of the name of this wonderful dish. It has as high a place in English literature as the roast pig immor talized by Charles Lamb. Has not Thackeray taken it as a title of his most beautiful poem ? You must have read that noble Ballad of Bouillabaisse, and having read you can never have forgotten it. A street there is in Paris famous, For which no rhyme our language yields, Rue Neuve de Petits Champs its name is — The New Street of the Little Fields. And here's an inn, not rich and splendid, But still in comfortable case ; The which in youth I oft attended, To eat a bowl of Bouillabaisse. Ever since I first read those immortal lines, I had been longing for the chance of eating Bouillabaisse.

I could no longer do so in " the New Street of the Little Fields," for Terre 's Tavern has disappeared from the surface of the earth. But I knew that Mar seilles was the headquarters of Bouillabaisse, the spot where alone it can be eaten in persection ; and so I waited for the opportunity which had now at last arrived. This Bouillabaisse a noble dish is — A sort of soup or broth, or brew, Or hotchpotch of all sorts of fishes That Greenwich never could outdo ; Green herbs, red peppers, mussels, saffern, Soles, onions, garlic, roach, aud dace. So sings Thackeray. A , who, like myself, had never tasted the dish before, quoted the fines to me with enthusiasm, and we prepared ourselves for a wondrous treat as we sat in that cool, shady best dining-room of the Maison Doree, looking out through the green Venetian blinds upon the hot and crowded Southern street.

Alas ! for dis illusionment. When the Bouillabaisse appeared we attacked it eagerly. It was a thick sort of stew, in which there were many fishes, chiefly of the bony, spiky description, a con siderable quantity of red pepper, saffron, and garlic, and an inordinate amount of bread. A was the first to succumb. " I don't care for it," he said, pushing his plate away, and gulping down a goblet of Burgundy. If I had spoken the truth, I should have made the same admission ; but loyalty to my great A well-known Face. 17 Master kept me silent. Only for a minute or two, however. With profound thankful ness I recognized the fact that my plate was empty, and eagerly declined the invitation of the waiter to accept of more. And this dismal fish curry was the far-famed Bouilla baisse ! Thackeray must have been more gourmand than gourmet if he really liked it.