Artists and Arabs; Or, Sketching in Sunshine

We have principally confined our remarks to places near Algiers, omitting all mention of Oran and Constantine, because it is impossible to work to much purpose if we travel about, and these places are worthy of distinct and separate visits. The longest journey that we would suggest to artists to make in one winter, would be to the cedar forests of Teniet-el-Had, because the scenery is so magnificent, and the forms of the cedars themselves, are perhaps the wildest and most wonderful to be met with in any part of the world. Hitherto, almost the only sketches that we have seen of this mountain forest have been by our own countrymen and countrywomen, for French artists do not as a rule go far from Algiers.

With a few notable exceptions,[31 - We shall not be accused of alluding in this category to such painters as the late Horace Vernêt; or to Gérome, Frère, and others who study here in winter time.] our experience of the works of Frenchmen in Algiers, has been anything but inspiring; we have known these artists closetted for weeks – copying and re-copying fanciful desert scenes, such as camels dying on sandy plains, under a sky of the heaviest opaque blue, and with cold grey shadows upon the ground – drawing imaginary Mauresques on impossible housetops, and in short working more from fancy than from facts; producing, it may be, most saleable pictures, but doing themselves and their clientelles, no other good thereby. It seems ungracious to speak thus of people from whom we invariably received civility and kindness; but the truth remains, we found them hard at work on 'pot-boilers' for exportation, and doing, like the photographers, a flourishing trade.

We should endeavour to spend most of our time in the country, if we wish to make progress. If we stay in Algiers we shall of course be liable to some interruptions; we shall be too comfortable and perhaps become too luxurious. We must not dream away our time on a Turkey carpet, or on our terrasse, charming though the view may be. There is too much scent of henna, too strong a flavour of coffee and tobacco, there are, in short, too many of the comforts of life; we had better be off to the hills, where the air is cooler, and where we can live a free life under canvass for a while.[32 - It may not be thought very practical to suggest much sketching in the open air, as the light is generally considered too trying, and the glare too great, for any very successful work in colour.]

The tropical vegetation in Algeria gives continual shade and shelter, and the style of architecture, with cool open arcades to the houses, is admirably adapted for work; but failing the ordinary means of shelter, much may be done under a large umbrella, or from an ordinary military tent. In the Paris Exhibition of 1867, there were some portable, wooden Swiss houses, that seemed constructed for sketching purposes, as they could be taken down almost as easily as a tent, and removed from one place to another.

A few months, spent amongst the mountains, will have a wonderfully bracing effect on Europeans, because both the eye and the mind will be satisfied and refreshed; although, it is a curious fact that on the uneducated, such scenes have little, or no, influence.

We shall not easily forget 'the splendid comet of Arab civilization that has left such a trail of light behind it,' but cannot help remarking that neither the Arab in a state of nature, nor the Moor surrounded by every refinement and luxury, seem to be much influenced by the grace and beauty around them; and in this they do not stand alone, for it is, as we said, a notable fact? that contact with what is beautiful in scenery or in art, is of itself of little worth.[33 - To reverse the position – it is a fact, which may be proved bystatistics, that there is as much, if not more, benevolence, forbearance, and mutual help, existing amongst the lower classes in the 'black country,' as in any other part of the United Kingdom.]

What shall we say of the Sicilian peasant girl, born and bred on the heights of Taormina?

What of the Swiss girl who spends her life, knee-deep in newly-mown hay? Does beautiful scenery seem to inspire them with noble thoughts? Does being 'face to face with Nature,' as the phrase goes, appear to give them refined tastes, or to elevate their ideas? Does it seem to lead to cleanliness, to godliness, or any other virtue? The answer is almost invariably, 'No;' they must be educated to it, and neither the present race of Arabs nor Moors are so educated. They do not seem to appreciate the works of their fathers, and will, probably before long, fall into the way of dressing themselves and building dwellings, after the style of their conquerors.

With Europeans it is just the reverse, and the most educated and refined amongst us, are learning more and more to value, what an Eastern nation is casting off. We submit to the fashions of our time not without murmurs, which are sounds of hope. We put up with a hideous costume and more hideous streets – from habit or necessity as the case may be – but even custom will not altogether deaden the senses to a love for the beautiful. In costume this is especially noticeable.

What is it that attracts the largest audiences to 'burlesque' representations at our theatres? Not the buffoonery, but the spectacle. The eye robbed of its natural food, seeks it in a number of roundabout ways – but it seeks it. What made the American people crowd to Ristori's performances in New York, over and over again? Not the novelty, not alone for the sake of being able to say that they had been there; but for the delight to the eye in contemplating forms of classic beauty, and the delight to the ear in hearing the poetry of the most musical language in the world, nobly spoken, although but few of the audience could understand a word. It was a libel upon the people to suggest that their attending these performances was affectation; it was an almost unconscious drawing out of that natural love for the beautiful, which is implanted somewhere, in every human breast, and which, in this case perhaps, gave the American audience a temporary relief from smartness, and angularity of body and mind.

CHAPTER X. CONCLUSION

F the foregoing sketches have seemed to some of our readers, a thought too slight and discursive, and to be wanting in detail; it is because, perhaps, they have reflected a little too naturally, the habit of a painter's mind, and have followed out the principle of outdoor sketching, which is to 'hit off' as accurately as possible, the various points of interest that come under observation, and, in doing so, to give colour rather than detail, and to aim principally at the rendering of atmosphere and effect.

But for this, perhaps, most readers will be thankful, and for two reasons. First, because it is a fact, that English people as a rule, care little or nothing for Algeria as a colony – that they never have cared, and probably never will. Second, because, in spite of the assertion of a late writer, that 'Algeria is a country virtually unknown to Englishmen,' we believe that the English public has been literally inundated with books of travel and statistics, on this subject.

It is only in its picturesque aspect, and as a winter residence for invalids, that Algiers will ever claim much interest for English people; and even in picturesqueness, it falls far short of other cities well known to Englishmen. There is nothing in costume to compare with the bazaars of Constantinople, or in architecture, to the bystreets of Trebizond; but Algeria is much more accessible from England, and that is our reason for selecting it. It has one special attraction, in which it stands almost alone, viz, that here we may see the two great tides of civilization – primitive and modern – the East and the West – meet and mingle without limit and without confusion. There is no violent collision and no decided fusion; but the general result is peaceful, and we are enabled to contemplate it at leisure; and have such intimate and quiet intercourse with the Oriental, as is nowhere else to be met with, we believe, in the world.

In speaking thus enthusiastically of the advantages of Algeria, let us not be supposed to undervalue the beauties of England, or its unapproachable landscape and mountain scenery. The 'painter's camp' in the Highlands, is no doubt, the right place for a camp, but it is not the only right place; the spot where it was pitched is covered with snow as we write these lines. Moreover, it is not given to everyone to be able to draw trees, and it is a change and relief to many, to have landscape work that does not depend upon their successful delineation.

In fine, for artists, Algiers seems perfect; a cheap place of residence with few 'distractions,' without many taxes or cares; with extraordinary opportunities for the study of Nature in her grandest aspects, and of character, costume, and architecture of a good old type.

But what they really gain by working here is not easily written down, nor to be explained to others; nor is it all at once discovered by themselves. It has not been dinned into their ears by rote, or by rule, but rather inhaled, and (if we may so express it) taken in with the atmosphere they breathe. If they have not produced anything great or noble, they have at least infused more light and nature into their work, and have done something to counteract the tendency to that sickly sentimentality and artificialism, that is the curse of modern schools.

We have been led to insist, perhaps a little too earnestly, on the good effects of sound work on a painter's mind, by the thought of what some of our foremost artists are doing at the present time. When painters of the highest aim and most refined intelligence, seem tending towards a system of mere decorative art; when Millais paints children, apparently, to display their dress, and devotes his great powers as a colourist almost exclusively to imitative work; when Leighton cultivates a style of refined Platonism which is not Attic and is sometimes scarcely human; when other painters of celebrity, that we need scarcely name spend their lives upon the working out of effective details; when the modern development of what is called Præ-Raphaelitism, seems to remove us farther than ever from what should be the aim of a great painter, we may be pardoned for insisting upon the benefits of change of air and change of scene.

But not only to artists and amateurs – to those fortunate people whose time and means are as as much at their own disposal as the genii of Aladdin's lamp; to those who can get 'ordered abroad' at the season when it is most pleasant to go; to those who live at high pressure for half the year, and need a change – not so much perhaps, from winter's gloom – as from the 'clouds that linger on the mind's horizon;' to all who seek a 'new sensation,' we would say, once more – pay a visit to the 'city of pirates,' to the 'diamond set in emeralds,' on the African shore.

POSTSCRIPT TO SECOND EDITION

We have been requested by several readers to state, in a New Edition, the readiest and cheapest method of reaching Algeria from England.

There is no quicker or cheaper way than to go through France to Marseilles, and thence by steamer direct to Algiers. The cost of the journey from London to Algiers varies from to £10, according to 'class.' The steamers from Marseilles leave on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, at mid-day: the cheapest boats leave on Thursdays, their first-class fare, including living, being about £3 3s. All other information respecting this journey, can be obtained by reference to Bradshaw's Continental Railway Guide.

The best months for a visit to Algeria are from November to April.

Travellers should obtain the French 'Guide de l'Algerie,' published by Hachette, Paris; also 'Last Winter in Algeria,' by Mrs. Evans, a most useful book for visitors.

Hotels in Algiers: – 'L Orient,' 'La Regence' 'L Europe,' &c.

notes

1

Necessary enough, to be protected from the cold blasts that sweep down the valleys, as many invalids know to their cost, who have taken houses or lodgings hastily at Nice.

2

It is generally admitted, we believe, that a vegetable diet will not produce heroes,' and there is certainly a prejudice in England about the value of beef for navvies and others who put muscular power into their work. It is an interesting fact to note, and one which we think speaks volumes for the climate of Algeria, that this gentleman lives almost entirely on fruit, rice, and Indian corn.

3

This beautiful architectural feature of the town has not escaped the civilizing hand of the Frank; the last time we visited Algiers we found the oval window in the tower gone, and in its place an illuminated French clock!

4

It may be interesting to artists to learn that in this present year 1868, most of the quaint old Moorish streets and buildings are intact – neither disturbed by earthquakes nor 'improved' out of sight.

5

Since writing the above, we observe that these Arabs (or a band of mountebanks in their name), have been permitted to perform their horrible orgies in Paris and London, and that young ladies go in evening dress to the 'stalls' to witness them.

6

How often have we seen in the Tuileries gardens, the bronzed heroes of Algerian wars, and perhaps have pitied them for their worn appearance; but we shall begin to think that something more than the African sun and long marches have given them a prematurely aged appearance, and that absinthe and late hours in a temperature of 90° Fahrenheit may have something to do with it.

7

How different from what we read of in Æothen. The cry is not, 'Get out of the way, O old man! O virgin! – the Englishman, he comes, he comes!' If we were to push an old man out of the way, or, ever so little, to forget our duty to a fair pedestrian, we should be brought up before the Cadi, and fined and scorned, by a jury of unbelievers!

8

The little pattern at the head of this chapter was traced from a piece of embroidered silk, worked by the Moors.

9

It would be obviously in bad taste for Europeans to walk in the streets of Algiers, en costume Maure; but we may make considerable modifications in our attire in an oriental city, to our great comfort and peace of mind.

10

In the Exhibition of the Royal Academy of 1867, there was a picture by Alfred Elmore, R.A., taken almost from this spot.

11

We hear much of the perils of living too fast, and of the preternaturally aged, worn appearance, of English girls after two or three London seasons. What would a British matron say to a daughter – a woman at twelve, married at thirteen, blasée directly, and old at twenty?

12

For fear of the 'evil eye.' There is a strong belief amongst Mahommedans that portraits are part of their identity; and that the original will suffer if the portrait receive any indignity.