Littell's Living Age/Volume 131/Issue 1693/The Arab Christian Villages in Algeria

by Elizabeth Herbert, Baroness Herbert of Lea

From The Month.

THE ARAB CHRISTIAN VILLAGES IN ALGERIA.

BY LADY HERBERT.

Many visitors to Algeria have doubtless heard of the wonderful exertions of the archbishop of that country, Mgr. Lavigerie, whereby thousands of Arab children were saved, both body and soul, after the fearful famine of 1868. But few people in England are aware of the existence of the Arab Christian villages, which form, as it were, the completion of his great and really superhuman work, so that a slight sketch of their origin and establishment may not be without interest to our readers.

It is needless to go back in detail to the horrors of that famine year. No one who had not witnessed them could ever believe the heart-breaking scenes which met one at every turn — men reduced to perfect skeletons, eating grass like the beasts of the field, women sinking by the roadside, with starving babies at their breasts, young children, gaunt with famine, with faces like old men, their bones starting through their skin, vainly striving to keep up with their parents, and dropping by dozens on the way. Such were the hourly sights of that terrible winter. But whereas with the Mussulmans and their fatalist doctrines, scarcely barren pity was elicited for the sufferers, Catholic charity was roused to an heroic pitch of devotion. Priests, with the holy archbishop at their head, sisters of charity of every order, ladies, doctors, soldiers — all put their shoulders to the wheel, and braving death (for typhus had, as usual, followed in the train of the famine), multiplied themselves to meet the terrible crisis, and save this starving multitude. But in spite of all their efforts, thousands of Arabs died, leaving their children on the archbishop's hands. What was to be done with them? In a beautiful letter, addressed by Mgr. Lavigerie to the French and Belgian Catholics, we find the answer to this query in his own simple words, "God inspired me to become their father." Upwards of two thousand boys and girls were received at first in his own episcopal palace; then brothers and sisters of charity offered their services, which were accepted, and large agricultural schools were opened, in which both sexes were trained to every kind of industrial and out-of-door work, with a result which has amazed all those who have visited these establishments. But the archbishop was not content with educating and bringing up these children. He determined to devise a scheme, whereby their future would be secured from the danger of returning to their tribes or becoming depraved by contact with the bad colonists who, unhappily, abound in Algeria, which, for a long while, was looked upon almost as a penal settlement.

We will give his plan in his own words: —-

I have bought land to create by-and-by Arab Christian villages, just as the State has done in Algeria for Spaniards, Swiss, and Italians. We shall form families by uniting our young men and women, giving them each the quantity of land necessary for their maintenance and that of their children, and of these groups of twenty, thirty, and forty young couples, we shall create villages under our own superintendence, and, I trust, with the approval and encouragement of the State. For it will be an easy and certain method of forming in the heart of Algeria a native Christian population, and assimilating to ourselves races which hitherto we have subdued only by force of arms, without inducing them to conform to our faith or habits, and whom we have the sorrow of seeing rapidly deteriorating, and even disappearing before the influx of their Christian conquerors.

He adds with touching earnestness: —

When I think over these plans, in the evening, in my solitude of St. Eugene, and that gazing into the depths of their glorious African sky, I beseech of God the time and the grace to complete the work I have begun. I often dream of my tomb being placed in one of those peaceful villages, surrounded by my adopted children. It seems to me that my last sleep will be sweeter among those who are really my sons in tenderness and gratitude. I feel as if these souls, for whom I have sacrificed all, and whom my ministry will have regenerated, will plead better than others before the throne of God for mercy for the sins of my past life.

This glorious project, which in 1870 was only the dream and prayer of the holy and devoted archbishop, has now been realized, and that with a success beyond all human expectation. Let us once more quote Mgr. Lavigerie's words, written four years later: —

In one of the Algerian valleys, between two chains of mountains, of which one, stretching towards the sea, forms the little Kabylia of Cherchell, and the other, rising in an amphi-theatre, leads to the high levels of the Sahara, one perceives, during the last few months, from the railroad, which is now opened between Oran and Algiers, a little village perched on the lowest spurs of the mountains. A bright stream, the Cheliff, flows at its feet; another little river bounds it to the right. This village is on the site of an old Roman colony, which was undoubtedly a Christian one also, for the ruins of a church were found when making the excavations for the new buildings. . . . The houses, separated one from the other, but arranged in straight streets, are simple in construction, but bright, clean, and cheerful. Green plantations of the eucalyptus look gay against the white walls. A pretty little church is built in the centre of the village, above which rises the cross of the primate, St. Cyprian, the Carthage martyr, to whom the church is dedicated. In front of the village is stretched a vast garden, divided into allotments, according to the number of the families, and irrigated by two norias (or wells), sunk in the soil. Behind is a large park, surrounded by a wall, in which are inclosed the oxen for ploughing, with the cows and goats needed for milking. All around, the dwarf palms and Algerian-bush vegetation are being cleared, to make way for wheat-fields and other crops. Everywhere you see work, life, and action. If you ask a European the name of this new village, he will tell you, "It is St. Cyprian of Tighsel" (the Tighsel is the name of the little river to the right, which forms the boundary of the village). But if you go to any of the Arab tribes encamped on the neighboring hills, and ask the same question, they will answer, "It is the village of the children of the great marabout."

This "marabout" is myself. They give the same name to all priests, whether Catholic or Mahometan. My children are our orphans; the Arabs look upon me as the father of all these poor little souls, whom I have saved from death, and it is their custom to give to the tribes the name of their founder.

The archbishop continues in a subsequent letter: —

These villages are, in truth, the salvation of our children. Here, under the eye of our missioners, sustaining one another, and exciting each other by example and emulation in work and all the virtues of a Christian family, they are sheltered from the evils of our colonies, where the worst vices have free play. They are as green oases in the midst of the desert. Here my children thrive, increase, and multiply, for in this land of the sun, everything goes quickly, and most of our young couples have now two or three children, so I am already a grandfather. I wish you could see me when I come to St. Cyprian, surrounded by all these little creatures, who call me "grandpapa monseigneur," and who pull me about in every direction, and scramble on my knee, to see if I have not some sugarplums for them in my pocket. I let them do what they will, as you may imagine, thanking God for his goodness, who has so blessed this work, and created so many little innocent creatures to serve his gracious purposes hereafter. . . . For the birth of these children in our new families is to us the assurance of the continuance of our work and the pledge of the success, in which, thanks be to God, we have not been disappointed.

But one thing was needed to complete these villages, and that was a hospital for the many diseases rife among the natives. Hence the creation of the Hospital of St. Elizabeth, at St. Cyprian, of which some account must be given.

One of the objects which Mgr. Lavigerie hoped to attain by the establishment; of these native Christian villages was to bring about friendly relations with the Arab tribes encamped in the neighborhood. Several of the young couples, in fact, had found members of their own families — uncles, aunts, and cousins, who came to visit them at St. Cyprian, and were amazed at what they saw. "Even had your fathers lived," the Arabs would exclaim to the new settlers, "they would never have been able to do for you what the great marabout of the Christians has done." Mgr. Lavigerie had placed as pastors of these new villages some of his own admirable African missioners. Now, one of their rules is to study medicine, and to attend themselves to any sick who may be brought to them. And so, at St. Cyprian, they began, as they did everywhere else, to devote themselves to the care of the sick and suffering. One of the houses in the village was taken for a pharmacy, and the skill and tender care of the missioners, who gave both dressing and drugs gratuitously, soon attracted all the sick Arabs of the different mountain tribes in the vicinity. Many who could not walk were brought on the backs of mules, and laid down at the feet of the fathers, who would kneel and dress their hideous wounds with the utmost charity and patience. The natives were never weary of expressing their astonishment. "Why do you do this?" they would exclaim. "Our own fathers and mothers would not take as much trouble for us!" The reputation of the cures effected in this way spread far and wide. The women, who held aloof at first from Mussulman prejudice, began flocking in likewise. The archbishop then sent sisters (of the same African congregation which he had founded) to attend to them. But one thing was becoming indispensable, and that was a hospital, where those whose diseases required a longer treatment could be received and nursed with that care and cleanliness, which were almost the conditions of cure. But where was the archbishop to find the money, either for the building or for the necessary staff of such an establishment? He redoubled his prayers, and those of his religious communities, and Providence came to his aid in a most unexpected manner.

The military governor of Algiers, General Wolff, is a man who combines all that is noble and generous in character with a thorough knowledge of his profession, and an intense interest in the native population. He had watched with the greatest sympathy the difficult and courageous attempts of the archbishop; he admired both his zeal and his prudence, and one day himself proposed to him the creation of the hospital. "The ground is ready prepared for it," he exclaimed; "the Arabs already look upon St. Cyprian's as their home, and you as their father. It will be not only a work of Christian charity, but one of the highest political importance, by thus gaining the hearts of the tribes we have conquered. How much will you require for the purpose?" The archbishop replied that a hundred thousand francs was the least sum with which he could begin. "Well," replied General Wolff, "there are thirty-eight thousand francs in the military chest, set apart during the time of the emperor's visit for the creation of some charitable establishment for the natives. With the consent of the governor-general, I will hand over this sum to you, and Catholic charity must do the rest." General Chanzy, the governor-general, at once acceded to this proposal. The archbishop joyfully set to work, and a hospital was constructed in the Moorish style, with everything needed for the comfort and convenience of its inmates. Even beautiful details were not wanting in the building, Mgr. Lavigerie wishing thereby to show the natives his love and respect for the poor. The Arabs themselves could not contain their astonishment at the sight of the buildings, as they progressed towards completion. "Why, it must be for a prince!" they exclaimed. "No; it is for sick, poor, and suffering Arabs." "But shall we have nothing to pay?" "No, nothing." "Can this be true?" they would ask; and when again the fact was solemnly affirmed, they would lift up their hands to heaven in mute astonishment, and bless God.

After two years' labor, and with the liberal alms of the French and Belgian Catholics, the hospital was completed. The archbishop was implored to give it the name of his patron, St. Charles; but from a feeling of gratitude to General Wolff, he preferred choosing that of St. Elizabeth, the patroness of Mrs. Wolff, whose Christian charity and devotion make her a worthy wife of this brave and loyal soldier.

In order to inaugurate the new hospital in a way which should duly impress the Arabs, Mgr. Lavigerie sent out invitations to a feast (or diffa), to be given on the day of the opening to all the natives of the different douars of the mountains adjoining the Chéliff, and invited likewise all the French authorities and European visitors of distinction to accompany him on the occasion. All gladly responded to the appeal; and on the 5th of February, 1876, at six o'clock in the morning, a special train conveyed the whole company from Algiers to St. Cyprian. Few who were present on this occasion will forget the beautiful sight presented on their arrival: on the one side, the bright new village, with its church and presbytery glistening in the sun; on the other, the tents of the Arabs, forming an immense camp; and above the village, the new hospital, decorated with flags, the road leading to it being adorned with triumphal arches and flowers. On either side of the railroad were columns of mounted Arabs, armed and motionless, waiting for the arrival of the guests. At a signal from their chief the whole body of cavalry charged the incoming train, which had just slackened speedy. They surrounded the carriages, firing in the air, uttering their war-cries, now advancing, then retiring, till some of the ladies of the party were thoroughly alarmed, believing it was their intention to make an attack on the whole company. But no — it was only their picturesque way of giving a welcome. The train-stops; the guests, with General Wolff at their head, leave the carriages, and are met by a native mayor with an address, while the cannon sound and the bells of the church chime joyful peals, mingled with the wild and exultant cries of the Arabs. A procession is formed to the hospital, a royal prince of Holland walking first, then the generals of division with Madame de Lamoricière and the rest of the company, the native cavalry keeping the ground on both sides. On the terrace in front of the hospital, with its beautiful arched façade under a red and gold canopy, stood the archbishop, in full pontificals, with his mitre on his head, his crozier in his hand, the pontifical cross and canopy borne by natives in white burnouses and scarlet sashes; and around him fifty of his priests, some in gold vestments, some in the white Arab dress worn by his African missioners, but all motionless as statues. As the procession advanced to the foot of the steps leading to the terrace, Mgr. Lavigerie intoned the hymn to the Holy Ghost, which the clergy took up with fine sonorous voices. Then the archbishop taking holy water, solemnly blessed the building, and turning to the four points of heaven, pronounced the solemn pontifical benediction. Once more the cannon sounded and the church bells joyfully resumed their peal.

Descending from the terrace, the archbishop, followed by his clergy, then advanced to the general with a few words of welcome, who responded in a short but touching speech, which was followed by an eloquent allocution from Mgr. Lavigerie. Then the company were invited to visit the hospital in detail, the simple but beautiful inscription above the entrance Bit-Allah (the house of God) having attracted all eyes. In fact, Protestants as well as Catholics were equally impressed by the ceremony they then witnessed, and the English consul exclaimed: "We have seen another St. Augustine!" After the visit to the hospital, the European part of the company returned to the terrace to see the fantasia, or horsemanship, which the Arabs had themselves prepared in honor of the archbishop. Upwards of twelve hundred men magnificently mounted, under the command of the bachagha, Bou-Alem, the friend and companion of Abd-el-Kader, performed for two hours and a half the most wonderful evolutions and equestrian feats, amidst enthusiastic applause from the Arab spectators. These fantasias are almost always attended with loss of life, but in this instance, though several accidents occurred to the horses, none were hurt, and the Arabs declared it was the result of the baraka, or blessing of the great marabout, which preserved both men and beasts. Then followed the feast, which was Homeric in its character. On the hillside above the hospital innumerable tents were pitched; in the centre, the temporary kitchen was installed; eighty-six sheep and a large number of fat oxen were roasted whole, suspended on long poles: and while one set of Arabs were piling wood on the fires, the women were bearing huge bowls of cous-cous into each tent. Rice for four thousand people, ten thousand oranges, and a proportionate quantity of dates and figs were among the gifts presented to the good archbishop for this impromptu Arab feast. And in an incredibly short space of time the sheep and oxen were cut up, distributed, and devoured by his native guests. Soon music succeeded to the feast; and then an old bard, selected by the Arabs themselves, came forward and sung to the archbishop a ballad composed for the occasion as a surprise to him, and in which, after describing their sufferings during the famine, they drew an eloquent picture of the Catholic charity through which they had been saved. This delicate and touching proof of their gratitude and affection moved the archbishop and those around him almost to tears. But the sun was sinking and the departure of the visitors was at hand. Mme. de Lamoricière had begged to pay a visit to the tent of Bou-Alem (one of the Arab chiefs who had fought under the banner of her lamented husband) and the archbishop and his guests accompanied her. Bou-Alem, surrounded by his sons and grandsons, received them with that grave and gentle courtesy which distinguishes those grave Arab chiefs, and having offered them coffee, which was accepted in the same spirit, turned to his guests and said: "When first my guns echoed through these mountains it was, under the orders of General Lamoricière, to subdue this country. But now that I am old, their echo is repeated to celebrate the victories of the archbishop, who, by his charity, has conqured all hearts to himself."

A short visit was then paid to the new villages of St. Cyprian and St. Monica. Every one admired the tidiness and cleanliness of the houses, the healthy appearance of the children, and the care with which the gardens and fields were cultivated. And before getting into the train to return to Algiers, the whole company repaired to the church, where the priests sung the beautiful African Ave Maria (composed for the Church of Notre Dame d'Afrique), the whole native population joining in the chorus. Their voices still echoed through the plain as the train sped rapidly back towards Algiers. All of a sudden a bright light was seen on the mountains; the Arab Christians had improvised an illumination in honor of their dear and cherished father; and a huge glittering cross appeared, as if hanging in mid-air, against the dark shadow of the mountains behind. It seemed the symbol of the event which had been that day commemorated; the triumph of the cross of Christ over the darkness which for so many centuries had hung over this land, and an earnest to the faithful and loving pastor of the flock of the conquest which he and his devoted brethren would still achieve over the infidel elements by which they are surrounded.