THE ARMY OF ALGIERS.

WHEN the French first turned their attention to the northern shores of Africa in 1830, although their ostensible motive was to punish the Dey of Algiers for his piratical conduct, there is little doubt but that their real object was to make a renewed effort at colonisation. The Bourbons had always fostered the colonial system, and though the perfidious Leopard had stripped them in turn of all their Indian possessions, both in the East and West, they hoped to obtain compensation in Africa, where, at any rate, they could not arouse any commercial jealousy. The fall of Algiers was celebrated by the musketry fire of the barricades of July, and though Louis Philippe strove to carry out the foreign policy of the dethroned monarch, Algeria more and more proved itself a country in which only laurels could grow, and those must be bedewed with blood at frequent intervals, or else they soon began to wither. For many years the Kabyles waged an unequal contest, and it was not till the accession of Napoleon III. that the French colonists began to learn what peace really meant. Even now, however, in spite of pompous reports, Algeria is a very debatable country, and the profits derived from its oceupation are in no proportion to the cost. We will not go so far as to assert, with some writers, that the French have no talent for colonisation; on the contrary, we do not believe that the English would have been any more successful in Algeria; but the plain truth is, that all the odds are against the invader. At any rate, we have no right to throw stones: it is only within a very few years that the balance of income and expenditure has been adjusted in India, although we have held that country for a much longer period, and had periodical accessions of loot to cover the deficit. The French in Algeria have had to conquer every inch of ground; the occupation of a city brought them in no grand treasure; and as they have had to deal with a scanty, nomadic, and essentially warlike population, they have not been able to turn the thews and sinews of the population to account, as we did with the gentle Sepoy, although we paid a bitter price for his help in the end.

One unquestionable advantage the French have derived from Algeria, using it as the training-school of their army, and the fruit of that training was most abundantly displayed in the Crimean and Italian campaigns. Soldiers who stagnate for any period are not to be depended on in war, as was shown by the Austrians, who, though the finest raw material in the world, were defeated in every action simply because they had not smelt powder since 1849, and their generals acted on theory rather than practice. In the same way, the "little wars" in which England is pretty constantly engaged, though a horror to the taxpayer, are of great importance to our army. But even in times of comparative peace, Napoleon III. is enabled to turn Algeria to account, by making it a sewer through which flow all the scamps of the French army, who, in spite of all their faults, maintain the national character for bravery, and perhaps give a better account of the rebellious Arabs than their steadier comrades would do. The manners of these soldiers are so curious, and indeed inte

resting, that we can quite understand the popularity attained in France by a small volume recently published to describe them.*

We are introduced to a detachment of troops of all arms marching from Oran to Mascara. They were all what the French termed "refractories," and had decidedly left their country for their country's good. They were going to Mascara to be incorporated with the first African battalion, or, as it is more usually called, the battalion of Zephyrs. This corps is to the army what purgatory is to the future life: a place of expiation, in which tricks against discipline are punished, but the great misfortune is that those sent to join it convert it into a paradise, and can hardly make up their minds to leave it again. The Zephyrs, also called the "Joyous," are recruited from every regiment, infantry and cavalry, and form a small, impetuous legion, irascible, hostile to discipline, and rebellious to duty, its ranks being kept full by the prisons and courtsmartial. Among these men are many possessed of warm hearts, devoted arms, and lofty minds-true heroes, in a word, but, as a rule, we regret to say, they are scamps. Rigorous morality cries scandal against them, the plundered colonist revolts, the cheated Arab utters yells like a starving panther, but the disinterested observer is surprised, laughs, and amuses himself. The African battalion, however, has its own carcere duro, a species of miniature Hades, in which escapades are punished with great severity, and any too bold a swindle entails frightful privations.

The commandant of the African battalion appears to have been exactly suited to his men. The Zephyrs christened him a "breaker of plates," in recognition of his temper, but his bark was worse than his bite. Such subjects as his were a difficult lot to manage; among them were a number of waifs from civil life, who, well educated, deceived in their hopes, and embittered against society, were ever ready to revolt. They constituted a train of gunpowder, which a spark would cause to explode. Among them were lawyers, doctors, bachelors of arts, discharged officers, and beardless collegians; they constituted a strange medley-a sort of olla podrida, in which factitious joy frequently hides immense sorrow, or despair is converted into recklessness and cynicism. The philosophers court the green nymph Absynth, the desperate stand aloof, while the great herd sing, vagabondise, and amuse themselves, saying to everybody who cares to listen to them, that they take hold of life by the right end. So soon as the detachment arrived at Mascara, the sergeant in charge led them to the formidable commandant, who began questioning the men in a surly way as to what had brought them to Algeria. The first had broken his musket; the next had sold his regimental effects; the third had sung the Marseillaise. The last one the commandant treated with marked respect, and said to him, paternally, "When a man is a soldier, sir, he must keep his opinions at the bottom of his bag, and not show them to any one. Under the flag there must only be Frenchmen; anything else is superfluous, and even dangerous. Remember my remarks, and behave properly here. I will distinguish you from the rest if you prove that you are worthy of my confidence by the scrupulous performance of your duties." The next refractory had run into debt without means of payment, while several the commandant itched to thrash Les Bohèmes du Drapeau: Zephirs, Spahis, Turcos, Tringlos. By Antoine Camus.

when they simply confessed that they had been guilty of a breach of the eighth commandment.

One of the great arts by which the Zephyrs supply their purses is selling curiosities of their own manufacture to the Arabs. Thus, one of them disposed at a large price of the supposed flag borne by the Empress of Morocco at Isly, and which was merely an old rag he had picked up in a predatory foray. To the same collector he also sold a knife which had belonged to Abd-ul-Khadr, and which came from the same factory. These anecdotes prove, at any rate, that the Arabs retain the past in pious memory, which is not a good thing for the French dominion. The result of this fondness for collecting is, that the Zephyr barracks offer a strange medley: the walls are covered with extraordinary objects; ostrich eggs are displayed on tiger skins; arms of Arab origin are interlaced with grotesquely-carved walking-sticks; peacock feathers touch stuffed birds; and pebbles of various shades form capricious arabesques by the side of Oriental papooches. Every bed is a workshop, in which the most singular productions are turned out. One man is carving, another engraving, a third sewing, and a fourth manufacturing stilettoes; and all these fellows, at certain hours, go out to sell their wares, cheating the Arab and duping the European, but doing it cleverly, without any disturbance, with the attention of dentists, and the politeness of pirates in yellow kid gloves. Strangely enough, too, this trade does not appear to get blown and the adage is certainly true in Algeria, that there is a fool born into the world every minute.

Our author tells us a capital story of three deserters who started off to wander among the Arabs, with sundry pots of pomade and half a dozen small looking-glasses. The former they intended to sell to the natives as the ointment of life and death, while the latter would be useful to get over the women. Unfortunately, the theory was never carried into practice, as the deserters were surrounded by the "lobsters" (a name given to the Spahis on account of their red cloak), and compelled to surrender. They did not lose by the pomade, however, as they sold it to the prison cook, to be employed instead of lard in the soup. One of the heroes of this escapade, generally called by his comrades the "Jackal," was the type of the Zephyr adventurer. His life exactly resembled a romance of the capa y spada. It was a veritable Odyssey, in which the fanciful was mixed up with the incredible, and in which accident had written such singular chapters that the most practised novelist would be afraid to reproduce them. Brought up at an Italian seminary, his youth had been passed between the cell and the altar. On returning to France in the age of passions and excitement, he shared all the liberal aspirations of his generation, and took part in the sanguinary revolts that followed on the revolution of July. In turn carbonaro, republican, phalansterian, or St. Simonian, he had served every idea, hoisted every flag, doing so in good faith, however, without baseness or calculation; irresistibly following every current of ideas, and not caring in the slightest about the fickleness of his religious or political ideas. All he desired was disturbance, novelty, and danger. The war in Africa opened a marvellous horizon to him in the shape of camp life, and he became a soldier. From this time his impetuous activity found aliment; he fought everywhere, in the north and in the south, under Marshal

his

Bugeaud and by the side of Canrobert, incessantly astounding his chiefs by a rare intrepidity, and his comrades by an unalterable carelessness amid the hardest privations. Though wounded several times, he received no cross or medal; but that was a matter of perfect indifference to him, for, as he had never expected any reward, he did not feel disappointed. During the whole time of service Jackal grumbled at his position, but so soon as his time expired he was sure to enlist again, and ere long find way back to the battalion of Africa. Every now and then he deserted for a change, and, as he spoke Arabic splendidly, and knew the Koran better than the natives, he wandered about as a Marabout, and was everywhere received with the greatest honour. According to him, the greatest mistake government ever committed was in not making him director of Arab affairs; and perhaps there was not so much of boasting in this as may be fancied. Some fine day he will be killed at the moment of assault, and his comrades will bury the poor fellow in a shallow trench, and utter a coarse jest over him.

Every now and then the Zephyrs club together their surplus funds for a monster orgie. On one occasion a Zephyr was enabled to increase the spending-money by several five-franc pieces, which he obtained from an Arab by an ingenious swindle. The latter had long been pestering him to sell his cartridges-of course to be employed in potting the French. On this hint the Zephyr acted: he procured some coarse paper, powdered charcoal, and expended bullets, which he made up ship-shape, and decidedly took in the Arab with these cartridges, while the battalion, on hearing the story, unanimously christened him "Humanitarian." We need hardly add that on the following day some twenty natives laid in a stock of inoffensive gunpowder, about which no wild beast complained. Sometimes, however, the Zephyr will go beyond the bounds of a joke, as witness the orderly who was on the point of selling his officer's chargers to a colonist, when he was detected and cross-examined. His reply to the charge was a magnificent specimen of coolness. "It is very simple," he replied, without any confusion; "this gentleman is the owner of rich pasturage, and the animals require to be turned out to grass. I was going to entrust them to him for a few weeks."

To the Zephyrs is due the credit of inventing the elephant-rat, or rat with a trunk, which has been unjustly claimed by the Zouaves. The first specimen was produced in 1849, and the story went the round of the papers again this very month-so true it is that history is fond of repeating itself. A Zephyr (the before-mentioned Jackal), engaged in roadmending, set a trap for rats, and caught four. Various proposals were made as to their education. Some wanted to teach them to play at cards, others to colour pipes; a third offered to instruct them in the manual exercise, while a fourth was of opinion that dancing better suited their instincts. But Jackal had a different destiny for them: he took two of the victims out of the cage, cut off their tails, and made an incision below the eyes, into which he inserted the tails, and carefully plastered up the wound. At the end of a week the poor brutes were cured, and the rat with a trunk was invented. The Jackal became a hero; his captain invited him to dinner, and some Parisian savant burnt his fingers speedily in purchasing this unique specimen of natural history.

The gallant Zephyr is one of the most amusing types of the African

battalion. He is a Lovelace in a forage-cap: a something not to be found in other regiments. The confessions of a nursemaid are to him trifles unworthy of his ears; and the fattest cook, were she surrounded by bottles of champagne, creates no ardour in his breast. He seeks for an emotion-for scandal-and is delighted when a jealous husband challenges him. The gallant Zephyr is certain to become an orderly-room clerk, for he feels an instinctive horror of the spade, and standing as sentry in the burning sun. He contrives some pretext to introduce himself to the colonists, gives lessons on the pianoforte, keeps the books, teaches Arabic, and neglects no opportunity for making love. His comrades are naturally jealous of him; but a cup of coffee cleverly offered, or the loan of half a franc at a pressing moment, suffices to change the envious sarcasm into a hearty shake of the hand.

The Zephyrs displayed their prowess most brilliantly in the affair of Mazagran. In this action a handful of soldiers repulsed for a whole day numerous bands of enemies, who surrounded them on all sides. This Titanic contest aroused an immense enthusiasm in France. People asked themselves how one hundred and twenty men could have resisted legions of fanatics, to whom the revered voice of the Marabouts imparted an incredible intrepidity. The journals of the period pompously chanted this immortal day, and the king, following the general impulse of public opinion, had medals struck commemorating an event whose bravery has never since been surpassed. Only a dozen men survived, and they, too, have gone home to their fathers by this time; but their glory is annually celebrated at Mazagran by a high mass and a banquet. On this day the Zephyrs are allowed to do pretty much as they like, and, consequently, carry on a perfect saturnalia.

Our author complains bitterly of the erroneous ideas entertained in France about the Turco, and says that all the dictionaries agree in describing him as a native soldier. Hence the most fantastic notions are formed of these heroes, who, in reality, are most excellent fellows. The real natural Turco is no longer an Arab, and not fully a Frenchman: he fights like a Zephyr, laughs like a recruit, and loves like a Mussulman. The army alone is acquainted with these strange, indolent, impetuous beings, who are full of contrasts and oppositions, and faithfully represent, in their qualities and faults, the two civilisations of which they are the living expression. The Turco is a born Bohemian, and the barrack-room only serves to change the direction of his primitive instincts-parasitism and vagabondage. He loves the flag less for what it means than for, what it procures him, but he loves it sincerely, and the title of Lascar has immense value in his eyes. Among his countrymen he wills, commands, subjugates, plays Sir Oracle, and delivers, for the instruction of the barbarians of the douars, lessons in civilisation, which are not always based on morality. But the Turco is no spontaneous type: he requires a certain period of formation and development, before which he has only a respectively insignificant value. It takes the drill-sergeant some trouble to break in the Turco, but when he has done so he is a splendid fellow, whom the Zephyrs soon teach the art of foraging à l'Africaine-that is to say, stealing everything they can lay their hands on. It is indeed wonderful what these fellows can steal: on one occasion they carried off the whole of Pelissier's dinner during an expedition, leaving him only a red