While dealing with the weaknesses, needs, and potential of his own society, Abd el-Kader was also growing more aware of the nature of his adversaries—not just the French army’s wanton cruelty but their apparent lack of religious faith. This was particularly baffling to him. How could a people consider themselves a great civilization if they had forgotten God?
But not all Frenchmen impressed him as irreligious. Three men who came into Abd el-Kader’s life at this time, the late 1830s and early ’40s, were individuals in whose lives religion played a vital part—in one way or another. These men, Léon Roches on the one hand, and the Bishop of Algiers and his assistant priest on the other, could not have been more different, nor could their stories have been a greater contrast. Yet all formed long and deep friendships with the Emir. These friendships, shaped in wartime, foreshadowed Abd el-Kader’s ability to develop meaningful relationships with people of varied backgrounds, religious leanings, and moral qualities, which became such a striking aspect of his personality in later years.
A young cavalry lieutenant, Léon Roches taught himself Arabic so well that he soon became an official translator for the French army. In November of 1837, however, he decided to desert his post, find the Emir, and offer his services. That in itself was not extraordinary, as a few hundred other Europeans had already thrown in their lot with the Algerians. But Roches seems to have had a special objective. He was suffering from hopeless love for a young Algerian woman, and he dreamed that working with the Emir would somehow help him to find her again. Also, he seems to have been determined to lead as adventurous a life as humanly possible.
Once Abd el-Kader had assured himself that Roches was not a spy, he made the Frenchman his personal advisor and secretary. The two men soon had both a successful working relationship and a warm friendship. It was all the warmer because Roches said he had converted to Islam. His descriptions of Abd el-Kader in wide-ranging, sometimes contradictory moods, including what appeared to be spiritual exaltation, are among the most detailed and intimate of the many reports written about the Emir. “When he prays, he is an ascetic; when he commands, he is a sovereign; when he speaks of war, his features light up—he is a soldier.”1
Roches’ story sounds like a first-rate adventure film. Not long after he had joined the Emir’s camp, for instance, he was forced to witness—without betraying even the slightest flicker of emotion—the swift be-heading of captured tribal fighters who had resisted the Emir’s campaign against their mountain stronghold. In that moment Roches saw the intense anger that Abd el-Kader was capable of—and the mercy that could just as quickly replace it.
The punishment of these men was an example of the Emir’s ongoing struggle to keep the tribes with him. He knew that their loyalties could never be taken for granted, and he had to constantly impress them with his strength and control. It was largely for the same reason that Abd el-Kader undertook an astonishing campaign into the Sahara desert in June of 1838, an expedition that provided Léon Roches with all the adventure he could possibly have hoped for.
Abd el-Kader had received information that an important tribal leader named Muhammad at-Tijani was planning rebellion. The information was apparently false and maliciously intended, but Abd el-Kader was unaware of the deception and decided to deal with the matter seriously. The supposed troublemaker was also an esteemed marabout and head of a religious brotherhood. His palace, containing a fabulous treasure, was located inside a heavily fortified compound in an oasis called Ain Madhi, deep in the Sahara about two hundred miles south of Algiers. Abd el-Kader, in marching his army—possibly four or five thousand soldiers with their families, plus cavalry and artillery—for nearly three weeks through the desert, sent an unmistakable message. Don’t defy me—I will stop at nothing to subdue you.
Why did the Emir undertake such a difficult and costly expedition? As he saw it, he had to bring Tijani’s small but strategic town into the new state he was building, which he considered a religious as well as a political creation. It would not be right—or politically wise—to leave an important marabout outside. Furthermore, if the Emir should lose his towns and fortifications in the settled part of the country, he might need to fall back on a reliable base in the Sahara. And so he marched on, through summer heat.
When Abd el-Kader’s army was near Ain Madhi, he sent a message demanding that Tijani accept his leadership. Tijani replied, denying any disloyalty but also flatly refusing to meet with the Emir. Abd el-Kader refused to accept such defiance and began a European-style siege that lasted more than four months. During the standoff, he had time to send for cannons, explosives, and other equipment for siege—some provided by the French. But how to determine the strength of those walls?
Léon Roches promptly volunteered to get inside—or die in the attempt. Reluctantly, Abd el-Kader allowed him to try. Roches managed to get inside and even spoke to Tijani in person. He returned unharmed to Abd el-Kader, with vital information about the fortifications—and Tijani’s continued defiance.
Abd el-Kader gave orders to dig tunnels under the walls. This went on for much of the summer and occasionally produced bloody encounters with the defenders. Finally, deceived by a possible ruse, Tijani gave up. With all his people and his treasure, he agreed to leave, pay the Emir’s expenses for the whole campaign, and make no further trouble. When the fort was empty, Abd el-Kader had it blown up. But it seems to have been a wasted victory, because as soon as Abd el-Kader was busy with war again, Tijani returned, rebuilt his fort, and went over to the French.
In any event, Roches’ close friendship with the Emir continued. In spite of the jealousy of others in the camp, Abd el-Kader increasingly relied on the Frenchman as the likelihood of resumed warfare grew closer. Not only did Roches translate French newspapers and documents and write the Emir’s communications with the French, but he made significant improvements in managing the army and the tribes.
Then came a dark evening at the end of October 1839, when Abd el-Kader learned that outbreak of war was almost imminent. To the Emir’s surprise, Roches reacted with obvious sadness. Overcome by torn loyalties, he could not face actual warfare against his own countrymen—and at last he told Abd el-Kader the truth. He had not converted to Islam, he was still a Christian. He was willing to pay the ultimate price for his deception, but he could no longer conceal the reality.
Abd el-Kader was stunned. He begged and pleaded, stormed and denounced. Finally he drove Roches from his tent. A few days later, sick with fever, Roches managed to escape to French lines—very probably because the Emir had purposely allowed him to slip away. At first Roches was treated with suspicion, but before long the French generals were satisfied that he was not a spy. With his knowledge of Arabic he soon became one of Bugeaud’s right-hand men and an invaluable source of information for the French general’s campaigns.
Remarkably, the painful break was not the end of this relationship, and Léon Roches would reappear in the Emir’s story.
One day in the spring of 1841, when intense fighting had resumed, Abd el-Kader received a letter from the Bishop of Algiers, Antoine-Adolphe Dupuch. The bishop had been approached by a woman asking his assistance in obtaining release of her husband, a prisoner of the Emir’s forces. Dupuch, who could never resist a call for help, decided to write directly to the Emir.
Abd el-Kader, a master of persuasion, wrote back. He had heard much about the bishop’s humanity and Christian charity, he said; but why ask for the release of only one man? Why not all the French prisoners? And for that matter, why not release an equal number of Algerian prisoners, many of them innocent villagers? The bishop thought a prisoner exchange was a fine idea. As he explained it to the French generals, it would advance the cause not only of French civilization but of Christianity, through noble example. The French generals were not at all impressed, but grudgingly they gave permission to proceed.
Bishop Dupuch, after seeing to it that the Muslim prisoners were given decent clothes, designated another priest, Father Jacques Suchet, to carry out the prisoner exchange. A troop of one hundred and thirty Algerian civilians set out on May 17, 1841, for a certain location. The women and children rode in rented carriages, the men walked, and the prisoner exchange succeeded. The Algerian prisoners reported favorably on the bishop’s kindness toward them. An exchange of gifts sealed the agreement: a clock and two candelabras for the Algerians, a herd of goats for the bishop.
There were more French prisoners, however. Dupuch wanted to free them, too, and again Father Suchet agreed to take on the job. This time he had to go deep into hostile territory and try to meet the Emir himself. He took with him a quantity of medical supplies, knowing they were always needed among the tribes.
Upon meeting Abd el-Kader’s representative, Suchet was treated courteously but told that no one had any idea where the Emir might be found. It was very probably true. An essential part of the Emir’s war plan was to keep constantly on the move, covering an immense territory. A young Algerian guide was assigned to the priest, and they spent several days vigorously hiking from one place to another. At long last, somewhere near Mascara they found Abd el-Kader, sitting under a fig tree.
The priest, like so many other Europeans who actually met the Emir, was surprised at his mild appearance and quiet manner. Official propaganda, of course, had described him as a fierce and bloodthirsty barbarian. Abd el-Kader welcomed Suchet and expressed appreciation for the kindness toward the Algerian prisoners. The two men sat together under the tree and negotiated, using the Emir’s interpreter. Abd el-Kader agreed to release some fifty additional French prisoners, even without an equal number of Algerian prisoners in exchange.
Then they started talking about what really interested the Emir: religious faith.
While growing up, Abd el-Kader had learned something about other religions from books, but he had not known any Christians until the French invasion—which had initially seemed to him like a “crusade,” an attack on Islam. As he met more Frenchmen, he was learning more about Christianity, for better and worse. Now he welcomed the chance to talk with a devout and knowledgeable Christian, for there were certain questions that puzzled him.
For instance, the divine nature of Jesus Christ—a basic question, because Muslims esteem Jesus as a prophet but do not believe he was of the same nature as God. Abd el-Kader also wanted to understand the purpose of Catholic priests better. Suchet said that their ministry was to treat all men, regardless of religion, as brothers. But why, asked Abd el-Kader, didn’t all Frenchmen observe the beliefs of their religion? Suchet answered with the same question: why didn’t all Muslims observe the teachings of their religion? Abd el-Kader could only imply that he agreed. His fellow Muslims’ ignorance of true Islam was a constant grief to him.
At the end of this difficult but surprisingly fruitful expedition, Suchet brought Bishop Dupuch a glowing report. Prisoners-of-war would be allowed to write to their families, and the Emir had even agreed to allow Catholic priests to stay with French prisoners.
But Suchet’s report was as far as the two priests got with their good intentions. Again Bugeaud and his generals stepped in and put a stop to ideas about treating humanely with the enemy. No priests for prisoners, no softening of Bugeaud’s policy of brute force and destruction, absolutely no further communication with the Emir. War was a grim business. It would be demoralizing for French troops to accept the idea that the Algerians and their leader were good people. Much better to think of them as monsters to be feared, hated, and ultimately destroyed.