Read Ebook: Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science Volume 11 No. 26 May 1873 by Various

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LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE

MAY, 1873.

Transcriber's Note: Minor typos have been corrected and footnotes moved to the end of the article.

THE ROUMI IN KABYLIA.

THIRD PAPER.

But the next morning, after the richest and most assiduous entertainment, we see the little daughter of the amin playing in the court, attended by a negress. The child-language is much the same in all nations, and in five minutes, in this land of the Barbarians, on this terrible rock, we are pleasing the infant with wiles learnt to please little English-speaking rogues across the Atlantic.

The amin's daughter, a child of six years, forms with her slave a perfect contrast. She is rosy and white, her mouth is laughing, her peeping eyes are laughing too. What strikes us particularly is the European air that she has, with her square chin, broad forehead, robust neck and sturdy body. A glance at her father by daylight reveals the same familiar type. Take away his Arab vestments, and he would almost pass for a brother of Heinrich Heine. His child might play among the towers of the Rhine or on the banks of the Moselle, and not seem to be outside her native country. We have here, in a strong presentment, the types which seem to connect some particular tribes of the Kabyles with the Vandal invaders, who, becoming too much enervated in a tropical climate to preserve their warlike fame or to care for retiring, amalgamated with the natives. The inhabitants on the slopes of the Djordjora, reasonably supposed to have descended from the warriors of Genseric, build houses which amaze the traveler by their utter unlikeness to Moorish edifices and their resemblance to European structures. They make bornouses which sell all over Algeria, Morocco, Tunis and Tripoli, and have factories like those of the Pisans in the Middle Ages.

Contrast the square and stolid Kabyle head shown in the engraving on this page with the type of the Algerian Arab on page 494. The more we study them, or even rigidly compare our Arab with the amin of Kalaa, the more distinction we shall see between the Bedouin and either of his Kabyle compatriots. The amin, although rigged out as a perfect Arab, reveals the square jaw, the firm and large-cut mouth, the breadth about the temples, of the Germanic tribes: it is a head of much distinction, but it shows a large remnant of the purely animal force which entered into the strength of the Vandals and distinguished the Germans of Caesar's day. As for the Kabyle of more vulgar position, take away his haik and his bornouse, trim the points of his beard, and we have a perfect German head. Beside these we set a representative Arab head, sketched in the streets of Algiers. See the feline characteristics, the pointed, drooping moustache and chin-tuft, the extreme retrocession of the nostrils, the thin, weak and cruel mouth, the retreating forehead, the filmed eye, the ennui, the terrestrial detachment, of the Arab. He is a dandy, a creature of alternate flash and dejection, a wearer of ornaments, a man proud of his striped hood and ornamental agraffes. The Kabyle, of sturdier stuff, hands his ragged garment to his son like a tattered flag, bidding him cherish and be proud of the rents made by Roumi bayonets.

It must be admitted that the Kabyles, with a thousand faults, are far from the fatalism, the abuse of force and that merging of individualism which are found with the Islamite wherever he appears. Whence, then, have come these more humane tendencies, charitable customs and movements of compassion? There are respectable authorities who consider them, with emotion, as feeble gleams of the great Christian light which formerly, at its purest period, illuminated Northern Africa.

Our final inference, then, is, that the Kabyles preserve strong traces of certain primitive customs, which in certain cases are attributable to a Christian origin.

A true city of romance, a Venice isolated by waves of mountains, and built upon piles whose beams are of living crystal, Kalaa, all but inaccessible, attracts the tourist as the roc's egg attracted Aladdin's wife. For ages it has been a city of refuge, a sanctuary for person and property in a land of anarchy. Nowhere else are the proud Kabyles so skillful and industrious--nowhere else are their women so much like Western women in beauty and freedom.

It is a small Moorish structure, with two stone pilasters supporting a pointed arch. In the centre is an inscription forbidding to the pious admirers of the marabout the use of the fountain while a drop remains in the Hamadouch. To assist their fidelity, the spring is effectually closed except when all other sources have peremptorily failed, in the united opinion of three amins . When the amins give permission the chains which restrain the mechanism are taken off, and the conduits are opened by means of iron handles operating on small valves of the same metal. In the great droughts the fountain of Marabout Yusef-ben-Khouia may be seen surrounded with a throng of astute, white-nosed asses, waiting in philosophic calm amid the excitement and struggle of the attendant water-bearers.

As-tu vu la casquette, la casquette, As-tu vu la casquette du P?re Bugeaud?

Far away, at the foot of the Azrou-n'hour, an immense peak lifting its breadth of snow-capped red into the pure azure, the populous town of Azrou is spread out over a platform almost inaccessible.

What a strange landscape! And what a race, brooding over its nests in the eagles' crags! Where on earth can be found so peculiar a people, guarding their individuality from the hoariest antiquity, and snatching the arts into the clefts of the mountains, to cover the languid races of the plains with luxuries borrowed from the clouds! The jewelry and the tissues, the bornouses and haiks, the blacksmith-work and ammunition, which fill the markets of Morocco, Tunis and the countries toward the desert, are scattered from off these crags, which Nature has forbidden to man by her very strongest prohibitions.

We are now in the midst of what is known as Grand Kabylia. The coast from Algiers eastward toward Philippeville, and the relations of some of the towns through which we have passed, may be understood from the following sketch:

In this trapezoid the fire of rebellion never sleeps long. As we write comes the report of seven hundred French troops surrounded by ten thousand natives in the southernmost or Atlas region of Algeria. The bloody lessons of last year have not taught the Kabyle submission. It seems that his nature is quite untamable. He can die, but he is in his very marrow a republican.

OUR HOME IN THE TYROL

"Do not go to the Tyrol," said some of our friends in Rome. "You will be starved. It is a beautiful country, but with the most wretched accommodation and the worst living in the world."

"Come to Perugia, where it is always cool in summer," said a painter. "You can study Perugino's exquisite 'Annunciation' and other gems of the Umbrian school, and thus blend Art with the relaxation of Nature."

"Come rather to Zemetz in the Engadine, where good Leonhard Wohlvend of the Lion will help us to bag bears one day and glaciers the next," exclaimed a sporting friend, the possessor of the most exuberant spirits.

"But," remarked the fourth adviser, a lady, "I recommend, after all, the Tyrol. I went weak and ill last year to the Pusterthal, and returned to Rome as fresh and strong as a pony. I found the inns very clean and the prices low; and if you can live on soup, delicious trout and char, fowls, veal, puddings and fruit, you will fare famously at an outside average of five francs a day."

As this advice exactly coincided with our own inclinations, we naturally considered it the wisest of all, especially as the invitation to bear-hunts and glacier-scrambles was not particularly tempting to our party. The kind reader will perceive this for himself when he learns that it consisted of an English writer, who, still hale and hearty in spite of his threescore years and ten, regarded botany as the best rural sport; his wife, his faithful companion through many years of sunshine and shadow, who had grown old so naturally that whilst anticipating a joyful Hereafter she still clothed this present life with the poetic hues of her girlhood; their daughter, the present narrator; and their joint friend, another Margaret, who, whilst loyal to her native country, America, had created for herself, through her talent, her love of true work and her self-dependence, a bright social and artistic life in Italy. As for Perugia, our happy quartette had plenty of opportunities for studying the old masters in the winter months. Now we were anxious to exchange the oppressive, leaden air of the Italian summer for the invigorating breezes of the Alps.

Yet how fresh and graceful Italy still looked as we traveled northward in the second week of June! The affluent and at the same time gentle sunshine streamed through the broad green leaves of the vines, which were flung in elegant festoons from tree to tree. It intensified the bright scarlet of the myriad poppies, which glowed amongst the brilliant green corn. It lighted up the golden water-lilies lying on the surface of the slowly-gliding streams, and brought into still greater contrast the tall amber-colored campanile or the black cypress grove cut in sharp outline against the diaphanous blue sky. We knew, however, that fever could lurk in this very luxury of beauty, while health was awaiting us in the more sombre scenes of gray mountain and green sloping pasture. We traveled on, therefore, by the quickest and easiest route, and alighting from the express-train to Munich at the Brixen station on the Brenner Pass, were shortly deposited, bag and baggage, at that comfortable and thoroughly German inn, the renowned Elephant.

We prided ourselves on being experienced travelers, and consequently immediately secured four places in the Eilwagen, which was to start from the inn at six o'clock the next morning for our destination, Bruneck. We handed over our luggage to the authorities, partook of supper and then retired contentedly to rest--in the case of the two Margarets to the soundest of slumbers--until in the morning we were suddenly awoke, not by the expected knock of the chambermaid, but by a hurrying to and fro of feet, and the sound of several eager voices resounding through the echoing corridors. Fortunately, it was not only perfectly light, but exhausted Nature had enjoyed its allotted spell of sleep; for we found, to our astonishment, that it was past five o'clock. The storm continued outside no whit abated, and in the midst of the human hubbub the father's voice sounded clear and distinct.

"The British lion is roaring," exclaimed Margaret: then, snatching at my attire, I was in the midst of the disturbance in a very few minutes.

My father stood at his door and held in his upraised hand a pair of villainous boots, old and "clouted," fit for the Gibeonites, very different from the substantial English aids to the understanding which he had placed in all good faith outside his door the previous night. A meagre-faced chambermaid was wringing her hands beside him. Two waiters vociferated, whilst a third, whose eyes were still heavy with sleep, was blindly groping at the other doors.

"My excellent London boots, made on a special last, have disappeared," said my father, trying to moderate his indignation, "and this vile rubbish has been substituted in their stead.--Where is your master?" he demanded of the sobbing woman. "Fetch either your master or my boots."

"Herr Je! Herr Je! I've hunted high and low, up stairs and down," murmured the weeping maid, "and the gracious gentleman's boots are nowhere."

"Sir," said a little round-headed man, who seemed to have his wits about him, "I know very well that these are not your boots. I cleaned your grace's boots, and placed them at your door at four o'clock. It is some beggarly Welschers who have crept up stairs and exchanged for them, unawares, their old leather hulks."

"Ah yes," said the wailing woman: "three Welschers, who came for the fair, slept in the barn, and had some bread and cheese before they left, an hour ago."

In the midst of this explanation the door of No. 2 was slightly opened, and an arm in a shirt sleeve appeared and drew in a pair of boots. Hardly, however, was the door closed when the bell of No. 2 began to ring violently.

"Heavens! another pair gone!" exclaimed a waiter. Then with one accord the whole bevy of distracted servants rushed to No. 2, declaring their innocence.

"My good people, I cannot understand one word you say," replied a mild English voice. "I request you to be gone, and let one of you bring me my own proper boots."

The British lion--who, it must be owned, had reason to roar--became calmed at the evident innocence of the servants and the gentle sounds of this British lamb. He therefore went to the rescue, and explained the matter to No. 2, who in his turn meekly expostulated: "Very vexatious! Dear me! My capital boots made expressly for Alpine climbing! But we must make the best of it, my dear sir."

Maids and men still remained in an excited group, when at this juncture the head-waiter appeared, bringing with him the landlord, a respectable middle-aged man, who, bowing repeatedly, assured the gentlemen of his extreme annoyance at the whole affair, especially as it compromised the fame of his noted house. Indeed, he would gladly refund the loss were the two pairs of boots not forthcoming.

Forthcoming! How could they be forthcoming when at this moment the clock was striking six, and the Eilwagen was to start at once, and we with it, though minus breakfast? The British lamb departed hurriedly, but we were detained to be told of another complication. Not only were the boots gone, but the royal imperial post-direction of Austria, after duly weighing and measuring our luggage, had adjudged it too heavy and bulky for the roof of its mail-coach. It would, however, restore our money, and even suggest another mode of conveyance, but take us by its Eilwagen it would not.

"The delay is indeed advantageous, mein Herr," said the landlord, addressing my father, who walked about in slippers, "as time will thereby be gained for a thorough investigation of the boot question."

One trouble always modifies another. The disappearance of the boots made us bear the departure of the Eilwagen philosophically. Nay, at the conclusion of a substantial breakfast of hot coffee, ham and eggs we began greatly to enjoy ourselves. Rejected by the post-direction for the Eilwagen, we felt at liberty to choose our time of departure. For the present, therefore, acting as our own masters, we leisurely sauntered out of doors, admired the clean, attractive exterior of the roomy inn, and smiled at the fresco of the huge elephant, which, possessed of gigantic tusks and diminutive tail, carried a man, spear in hand, on his back. A giant bearing a halbert, accompanied by two youths in tunics, completed the group. An inscription informed us that this was the first elephant which had ever visited Teutschland, and that the inn derived its name from the fact of the august quadruped sleeping there on its journey, which took place in the sixteenth century. The worthy landlord had also ordered a fresco to be painted on his inn to the honor of the Virgin. She was depicted standing upon the crescent moon, and her aid was invoked by the good man in rhyme to protect the house "from lightning's rod, O thou Mother of God! From rain and fire, and sickness dire;"--but, alas! there was no mention of thieves.

We were deploring the fact when the worthy Wirth appeared in person, attended by a slim youth in blue-and-silver uniform, whom he introduced to us with considerable emphasis as representing the police. The officer of justice stepped forward and with a low bow took the length and breadth of the Welschers' offending, and promised that the Austrian government would do its best to see the distinguished, very noble Herrschaft righted. We cannot be quite certain that he promised that the emperor would seek the boots in person, but something was said about that mighty potentate. At the assurance of governmental interference how could the British lion fail of being pacified? He declared that the landlord had acted as a gentleman, shook hands with him, and returning to the house exchanged his slippers for his second pair of boots--very inferior in make and comfort to the missing treasures--and then conferred with the landlord as to the best method for the continuance of our journey.

The Herr Wirth, with whom and the whole household we had now become excellent friends, declared that with our unusual amount of luggage the only plan was a "separat Eilfahrt," which means a separate express-journey to Bruneck. It had, however, its advantages: we should travel quickly and with the greatest ease. As we were willing to accede to his proposition, he handed us over to his clerks in the royal imperial post-bureau, who, having received a round sum of florins, filled in and sanded an important document, which being delivered to us conveyed the satisfactory information that we four individuals, whose ages, personal appearance and social position the head-official had magnanimously passed over with a compassionate flourish, were, on this fourteenth day of June, 1871, to be conveyed to the town of Bruneck in the caleche No. 1990; which said vehicle would be duly furnished with cloth or leather cushions, one foot-carpet, two lamps, main-braces, axletree, etc., including one portion of grease. So far, well and good, but on our inquiring when the said No. 1990 would be ready to start, the head-official merely looked over his spectacles at his subordinate, who in his turn, leaning back in his tall chair and stroking his beard, called out, "Klaus! Klaus!"--a call which was answered by a tall, stolid-looking man, also in livery, who seemed to occupy the post of official hostler.

"Klaus," demanded the second chef, "the Herrschaft ask when the vehicle will be ready."

Klaus gave an astonished stare, and articulated some rapid sounds in a dialect quite unintelligible to us.

"Precisely," returned the subordinate. "The horses are sent for, and when they arrive the Herrschaft will be expedited forthwith."

Whereupon the clerks of the post-direction became suddenly immersed in the duties of their office. We took the hint and good-naturedly retired.

It certainly looked like business when outside we perceived Klaus dragging forth with all his might and main, from a dark and dusty coach-house, a still dustier old coach. Darker it was not, for the color was that of canary, emblazoned with the black double-headed Austrian eagle. This, then, was the caleche No. 1990. It had the air of a veteran officer in the imperial army who had not seen active service for many a long day.

Klaus was too busy to pay much attention to us. He pulled the piece of antiquity into the street, and with an uneasy expression, as if he knew before-hand what he had to expect, he tried and tugged at one of the door-handles. "Sacrament!" he muttered as he at last let go and began hunting in the boot of the coach, under the driver's cushion and in secret nooks and corners, which proved, at the best, mere receptacles for fag-ends of whipcord and cobwebs.

"It is gone, sure enough, the key of the right-hand door." I am afraid it had disappeared three years before, at least, to the fellow's knowledge, for he added in an apologetic but hopeful tone, "It matters not the least, for, see you, all the inns are on the left-hand side."

A glimpse into the coach-house had convinced us of the fact of this vehicle alone being at our disposal; so we determined to manage as best we might, and bore even philosophically the smell of the musty, dust-filled cushions, which Klaus triumphantly pulled out of the open door and beat, as it were, within an inch of their lives.

Briefly, to make two long hours short after several tedious quarters of expectation, a square-set, rosy-faced and middle-aged postilion appeared round the far corner of the village street, resplendent in silver lace and yellow livery, leading three gaunt but sturdy horses. In ten minutes my father was seated on the box and we ladies inside, receiving the good wishes of Klaus, of the landlord, the men and the maids, now all smiles and curtsies, and with the postilion blowing triumphantly his horn we dashed out of the quaint, dreamy little cathedral town of Brixen.

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