WINTER REMINISCENCES OF ALGIERS.

AMONG the many places which the proverbial curiosity or restlessness of the British traveller have "invented" during the last few years, none is more deserving of remark than the country and capital of French Algeria. For some time previously it had been a resort known to the merely adventurous-those who for love of sport or danger will penetrate to the poles or the equator; its proximity, its abundance of game, no less than the prevalence of continual warfare within its borders while all Europe was at peace, offering irresistible attractions to that school of wanderer. But lately the country has acquired a new interest in the eyes of our countrymen, for, in addition to having been largely visited by the ordinary tourist, it now appears in the light of a lounge for the winter idler and a refuge for the invalid. The novelty of finding all the curiosities of Eastern costume, habits, architecture, religion, &c., within an easy week's journey of London-sights which were supposed to render necessary a much longer and more expensive trip, even as far as Alexandria or Constantinople-is no doubt a recommendation which will tend to increase the attractiveness of Algiers beyond the other Mediterranean resorts. "As an introduction to the old Moorish city, Mr. Davies's little book* is a welcome publication. There is food in it for every kind of reader. The sportsman and the naturalist will, we hope, find incentive enough to induce them to follow the author's lead with greater advantages and more time at disposal than the latter had under the peculiar circumstances of his stay. For general information, the value of the book consists in the pleasant gossiping manner in which it is written, indicating the objects worthy of attention rather than learnedly or pedantically imparting knowledge. The author has made the great mistake of copying too largely from his journal, and names, or ill-disguised descriptions of persons with whom he associated, are too freely introduced. This, however, is a matter apart from our present purpose. It is because we recognise his attractions and general usefulness that we feel bound to speak a word of warning to one class of readers into whose hands his "Visit to Algiers" will be sure to fall: we mean invalids, or rather those whom he seems particularly to address, invalids suffering from complaints of the chest. It is possible that many unfortunates so afflicted might be tempted, from what they there read, to fancy Algiers to be simply a Madeira brought within a quarter of the distance. We have seen a statement to such effect made elsewhere; and we have known many victims of the delusion. And as we know, also, the blind obedience which sufferers and their friends render to the lightest word of the faculty, we wish to add a little to the layman's stock of knowledge on the subject.

We do not affect any medical lore, nor shall we attempt to arraign any well-founded opinion. All we assert and think we shall prove is, that the ideas entertained by English medical men as to the climate of Algiers being favourable to consumption are founded on hearsay. The history of their knowledge on the subject we believe to be as follows: In the month

* Algiers in 1857. By the Rev. E. W. L. Davies. London: 1858.

of March, 1856, a Scotch Galen-it would serve him only right to call him by name, as the Speaker does a disorderly member of the Lower House-visited Algiers. For what purpose he went there we know not, for it can hardly be pretended that it was to make an experiment of the climate in the sanitary point of view now under discussion, seeing that before the month of March the African winter has long passed away. He stayed barely a week; but is said to have received most satisfactory evidence, in meteorological statistics, from the French physicians resident in the country. Returning home, he published his information, and, we suppose, enforced it by his own opinion, was largely read, enormously believed, and undoubtingly followed. There were many of his countrymen resident in Algiers during the winter of 1856-57, and all declared that it was through his means, primarily or secondarily, that they had found their way thither.

We have never met with this gentleman's production, but we suppose that the following figures and statement, which Mr. Davies quotes, evidently from good authority, are the arguments generally used on this side of the question. Describing his difficulty in choosing a winter refuge for an invalid, our author says: "Gibraltar, Malaga, and Algiers were severally recommended; but from the following report, lighted upon at the last moment, Algiers was preferred, and thither we bent our steps. 'Winter, 62.13 deg.; spring, 61.04 deg.; summer, 75.09 deg.; autumn, 78.26 deg. The mean temperature of Algiers for the whole year being 69.13 deg., it most approaches that of Malta, but exceeds it by 2 deg., Malaga by 3 deg., Madeira by 4 deg., Rome by 9 deg., Nice by 10 deg., and Pau by 13 deg. Cairo is 3 deg. higher (mean), yet its winter is 4 deg. colder than that of Algiers.' A land of promise, wherein it would appear that the heat of summer is not excessive, and the bitterness of winter is altogether unknown, and under a conviction that the above figures represented facts, at least for one year, we left England in a storm of snow," &c. The figures can stand for what they are worth; the rest of the case calls for remark. We again quote from Mr. Davies's authorities:

"It is a significant fact that consumption is comparatively unknown amongst the Arabs. Exposed as they are by day to the heat of a burning sun, and by night to the fogs of the Metidja, or to the chilling winds of the snow-capped Djurdjura, subject to all the vicissitudes of a wandering wild life, houseless, comfortless, not only supporting existence, but flourishing on fare that would starve a Dartmoor crow, it does seem remarkable that, notwithstanding these privations, they should escape a scourge that devastates so large and so fair a portion of the human race; whereas, their neighbours of the city, the Moors, the Jews, and the Turks of Algiers, engaged in embroidery and sedentary pursuits, well housed, well fed, and enjoying the advantages of a climate in which frost never frets the most delicate flower, wither under the influence of consumption, and die by dozens annually."

As we said before, we are not physicians, but we consider that common sense has a right to criticise these authoritative dicta, inasmuch as any inference drawn from them must depend on the ordinary rules which apply to all processes of reasoning. The "fact" so much relied upon-viz. that in a certain climate consumption is unknown-at most proves nothing

more, we submit, than that climate alone is never the cause of that disease; while if we give fair prominence to the other “fact”—viz. that even in the (supposed) favourable climate the disease extensively prevails among the sedentary and confined classes of the inhabitants-we are at a loss to see how the reasoner makes any case in favour of his climate. Again, the immunity from such a disease as consumption of an almost barbarous nation, like the Arabs, is a point of no value. Amongst a people leading the life here described there would be few delicate children born, and none would live beyond their birth. If we had any statistical information of the mortality among the early Britons, is it to be supposed that the figures would not tell the same tale?

Yet this seems to be all that can be said by its advocates in favour of Algiers as a climate beneficial to consumption. The proposition may indeed be provable, for all we know, by other evidence, or be rendered probable by analogy drawn from the effects of the air of the country upon other diseases akin to the one in question. Livingstone, in his account of the climate of South Africa, shows that certain disorders of the blood positively wear out by a residence in the Cape Colony. Some such effects may be found to be worked in the North. All that we, as unlearned persons outside the pale of science, pretend to at present is to deal with the evidence which those inside vouchsafe to us, and that we must declare to be unsatisfactory. It is possible, too, that in some cases, or at certain stages, of this ever-varying and treacherous disease a tonic, bracing air, such as that of Algiers, may prove temporarily alleviative by improving the system, if not permanently beneficial. All this part of the case, however, has yet to be made out.

And what does the experience of individuals say in respect of the proposition contended for? Mr. Davies seems to speak with an authority upon this head painfully weighty upon himself, and which commands our utmost sympathy and respect. But it should be remembered that he can hardly be held to have witnessed the complete experiment of a winter in Algiers. He did not, he tells us, arrive there till the second week in February, when the warmth of spring had for the most part succeeded the chill, rainy season-a period which, in the particular winter of 1856-57, any invalid who experienced its depressing influences will never forget. And though our author is evidently a warm-hearted enthusiast, he is far too honest to be a partisan. It is curious that, with one exception, the opinions of his fellow-residents whom he quotes-at least those whose case entitled them to be heard-are at variance with his own. We hear them tell of the trials of the damp during the winter months, and the treacherous hot suns and icy winds, accompanied by that dreadful annoyance, the fine white dust, which marked the entire spring. Had he further extended his inquiries among his countrymen, he would have found, we have reason to think, an opinion uniformly unfavourable.

But even granting that the case in favour of the climate was much stronger than appears above, there are many discomforts inseparable from a residence in Algiers, which can only be known by bitter experience, and of which an invalid ought to be made aware ere he is induced to cross the Mediterranean. What we say we hope is dictated by no other feeling than a desire to make the truth known. We have found too many people who, when asked their opinion of a place, allow

enthusiastic admiration of something about it to prevail, and talk in a random style, which looks like unqualified approval, instead of fairly setting forth the cons as well as the pros. It is only due to Mr. Davies to say that he is not one of these. No one would be much enamoured of a place where, according to his description, that important step, the finding of a first lodgement, was attended by so much difficulty. He says: "The Hôtel d'Orient stands in front of the Grande Place, and, from its airy situation and commanding view of the sea, thither we first bent our steps, and inquired for rooms. After ascending three flights of stairs, floored with tiles, and very slippery, we were shown two apartments of small dimensions, for which three francs each per day was demanded, and these being the only vacant rooms in the house, we declined occupying them, on account of their inconvenient height. We then tried the Hôtel de la Régence, also on the Grande Place.. Here, again, rooms

on the second étage, up fifty weary steps, at three francs each, were our Hobson's choice."

We can confirm his account of the Hôtel d'Orient. The situation is the best in the town; and when you get to the top of what our author elsewhere well calls the dreary "treadmill" of eighty-four steps to the third, or of one hundred and twelve to the fourth and last, story (on which alone, as will be explained, are the apartments for visitors), you certainly are rewarded by a splendid o'ertopping view of the city, harbour, and distant snow-capped range of the Djurdjura. Besides, on the top story, one had only to step from the window on to a terrace of asphalte running round two sides of the building to obtain a most agreeable lounge. But it required strong lungs, or sadly taxed weak ones, to mount constantly to such a height. The nuisance, however, of the stairs is not peculiar to one hotel; but in a greater or less degree is universal throughout the country. Why things should be so arranged we never heard explained. The Hôtel d'Orient was the worst specimen, for there one had to mount two whole flights, or fifty-six steps, before one got to the public part of the hotel, the ground-floor being occupied by shops, and the first-floor, or entresol, being the dwelling-place of the host and his family. The second-floor contained the salon for meals and the cooking premises; and the third and fourth the apartments for visitors. The Hôtel de la Régence is almost as well situated as the Orient, and the internal arrangement, we believe, is similar. Beside these there were the Hôtels de Paris and de Rouen. At the former the stairs were much more convenient, the height not being nearly so great, but standing in a narrow street there was no view from the windows. The latter was very badly placed in a close, stuffy slum, and totally out of the question, we should think, except in cases of emergency. There are others in the town far worse even than this, which it is needless here to mention.

Of those hotels we have named, we should say for bachelors the Hôtel de Paris for our money. One great advantage it offered to invalids was that of a fire in the dining salon. All through the chill wet days of winter such a necessary was unknown at the Orient. When one complained of the cold, mine host used comfortably to remind his hearer that in summer it was often necessary to flood the tiled floor several times in the course of the day to keep down the temperature. It wanted very

little more than such a description as this to make one's teeth chatter. However, there could be no remedy, for there was no fireplace.

As to the charges and accommodation at the hotels, Mr. Davies says: "For pension in the salon, which included breakfast at ten and dinner at six, with half a bottle of very ordinary wine at each meal, a charge of seven francs was made for each person; then fire, bougies, service, tea, coffee, and even hot water were charged extra. Thus, all complete, the expense of a visitor at this hotel (de la Régence) would be about fourteen francs a day, or one hundred a week."

On the highest floors, to which bachelors were generally condemned, the daily charge for a room was a franc and a half, but with this difference a pensionnaire at any hotel in Algiers could not reckon his weekly expenses at less than the sum here mentioned. He must, if an invalid, drink better wine than the ordinary bottle on the table; a fire in his own room was necessary by night, at least in the damp winter and early spring, particularly in a tile-floored apartment with a very small modicum of carpet; and the other extras which Mr. Davies mentions are equally indispensable. Yet for a sum equivalent in English money to 47. a week, what were his prospects of winter comfort?

The food was very indifferent: as with all French cookery, the best show is made of very inferior materials, but the meat in Algiers was far below the average of French fare. One heard as an excuse for the occasion, and to account for the dearness of meat, what Mr. Davies repeats, that "in consequence of the long and unusual rain which fell during the autumn of 1856, and the total want of shelter among the pastoral Arabs and colonists, no less than 600,000 head of cattle perished in the interior." But in a country where pasture is always very poor, it is hardly to be wondered at that the meat should be poor also. One saw the wretched specimens of oxen, sheep, pigs, and kids on their way to the shambles, and afterwards their poor carcases suspended in the shops: all the cooking art in the world could not change that meat. The French love eating, and manage to make a dinner out of a great variety of small kickshaws, not caring for the "cut and come again" joints; but we heard more than once a diner at Algiers reject a dish in utter despair, declaring that to enable him to accomplish it the host must find him teeth as well as a knife.

Mr. Davies says the fish-market was well supplied: it might have been so for all we knew at the hotels, where soles, sardines (not nearly so good as sprats), whiting, and occasionally mullet, formed the staple of the pension dinner. Game, or what in France represents it, from wild-boar, woodcocks, and partridges, to starlings and goldfinches, was common enough. The latter were better, on the whole, than we could have posed the less said about the former, perhaps, the better.

sup

Generally the best items in the bill were the vegetables and fruits. "Green peas were to be had all the winter (not in the hotels, however),* wild asparagus and new potatoes in February, and Alpine strawberries in the month of March, besides all the vegetables and many more than we have in England, in great profusion and excellence." The commonest vegetable is the artichoke. There were few days on which it was not put on the table on the chance of one's taking it as a dish. Round