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How Hume and Kant Reconstruct Natural Law: Justifying Strict Objectivity Without Debating Moral Realism 1st Edition Kenneth R. Westphal
How Hume and Kant Reconstruct Natural Law: Justifying Strict Objectivity Without Debating Moral Realism 1st Edition Kenneth R. Westphal
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How Hume and Kant Reconstruct Natural Law
How Hume and
Kant Reconstruct
Natural Law
Justifying Strict Objectivity
without Debating Moral Realism
Kenneth R. Westphal
Analytical Contents ix
Acknowledgements xiii
Primary Sources and Citation Methods xv
Appendix 207
Bibliography 221
Name Index 247
Subject Index 249
Analytical Contents
Acknowledgements xiii
Primary Sources and Citation Methods xv
Bibliography 221
Name Index 247
Subject Index 249
Acknowledgements
I am grateful to, and thank the respective editors and publishers for
permitting my using these materials here. All have been revised for the
present study, often extensively. Much more than that, I am very grateful
to each of these editors for their interest in my work and for their very
productive invitations to contribute to their respective volumes. An
anonymous reader for Oxford University Press kindly indicated some
salutary improvements, as did a reading group studying the penultimate
manuscript, kindly organized by Lucas Thorpe at my new home institu-
tion, Boğaziçi Üniversitesi, İstanbul (Autumn 2014). My final revisions
were also facilitated by teaching closely related topics at both under-
graduate and graduate levels during my first, Autumn term there—a very
fortunate convergence of departmental and scholarly interests. Final
preparations of the manuscript were kindly supported by the Boğaziçi
Üniversitesi Research Fund (BAP; grant code: 9761). Thank you very
much, each and all!
İstanbul
4 July 2015
Primary Sources and Citation Methods
Individual works by Hume are cited by each work’s divisions into books,
parts, sections (}), or paragraphs and, following a slash, by the page
number of the Selby-Bigge–Nidditch editions. Essays lacking subdivi-
sions are cited by title and paragraph number, designated ‘¶’; an ‘Appen-
dix’ is designated ‘App.’. Occasionally, non-sequential paragraphs in one
} are cited thus: T 3.2.2 ¶¶3, 7, 9.
Similar methods are used for citing other collected works, as indicated
in the bibliography under their respective entries.
Kant’s works are cited by volume:page.line numbers of Kants Gesam-
melte Schriften; this pagination is provided in all recent translations of
Kant’s works. Translations of Kant’s writings are my own, unless other-
wise indicated. Minor revisions to others’ translations are not noted.
1 Introduction
After rather a fallow period, both Hume’s and Kant’s theories of justice
have recently commanded well-deserved scholarly attention. These
developments are welcome, yet a philosophically decisive relation
between Hume’s and Kant’s moral philosophies has been neglected:
Hume initiated a powerful and distinctive form of moral constructivism,
which Kant adopted (via Rousseau) and further developed. Their form of
moral constructivism identifies and justifies strictly objective basic moral
principles and the practices they structure (social institutions), whilst
maintaining neutrality about moral realism and its alternatives.1 Their
form of moral constructivism justifies cognitivism about moral prin-
ciples through its account of justification, rather than by appeal to
alleged, ever-controversial moral ‘truths’, ‘facts’, or ‘values’. In a word,
their distinctive form of moral constructivism shows that issues about
moral realism and its alternatives are subsidiary, not central, to norma-
tive moral philosophy.
The basic character and strategy of this form of moral constructivism
are initiated by Hume in his theory of justice in Book 3 of the Treatise.
Though unfashionable, I do not hesitate to include justice within the
scope of moral philosophy. Both Hume and Kant, and indeed all moral
philosophers through the early twentieth century, addressed moral
1
The designation ‘moral realism’ has become used so broadly that any view according to
which there is a definite answer whether one is or is not morally obligated in some definite
way is now called ‘moral realism’. This laxity is obfuscating. I use the phrase ‘moral realism’
to designate views according to which there are human mind-independent moral truth-
makers, of whatever kind.
RECONSTRUCTING MORAL CONSTRUCTIVISM
2
An important issue I cannot address in this study is the scope and grounds of
obligation to non-ideal jurisdictions. Kant’s unqualified obligation to obey political author-
ity holds only within his strictly metaphysical principles of justice and so holds only of ideal,
fully just states (Westphal 1992). Parallel to this analysis Kant argues that we have very
strong, though not unqualified, obligations toward actual, non-ideal states, insofar as
obedience to them is necessary in the long run to provide and improve compliance with
fundamental principles of justice. For discussion, see Horn (2014). (The ‘metaphysics’
relevant to Kant’s theory of justice concerns a priori principles, not Transcendental
Idealism.)
3
See, e.g., Greenspan (2002), Morris (2008), Waxman et al (2008). Like Greenspan
(2002), Morris (2008) appeared before the crisis broke—but see below, }46.
RECONSTRUCTING MORAL CONSTRUCTIVISM
prospects for natural law, which has enjoyed greater attention in North
America and on the European Continent.4 On the Continent natural law
theory has remained on the agenda, both in philosophy and in jurispru-
dence, especially in the acute formulation of its key issues by Hobbes
(see }8), though Continental legal theorists have neglected Hume’s
theory of justice. In Anglophone circles, Hume is widely regarded as
the destroyer of natural law theory. Certainly he contributed mightily to
discrediting traditional natural law theory and its central appeals to
moral realism and to moral teleology. His having done so, however, is
compatible with his fragment of a theory of justice (in Book 3 of the
Treatise) having inaugurated the approach I here call Natural Law
Constructivism.
Accordingly, this monograph aims at concision and clarity, so that it
may be read profitably by scholars and students of philosophy, law,
politics, economics, business, or accountancy alike. Where needed, spe-
cialists are referred for further details to other works. In addition to
setting aside interminable debates about moral realism and its alterna-
tives, Hume’s and Kant’s Natural Law Constructivism sets aside debates
about ‘consequentialism’ versus ‘deontology’; their moral constructivism
exposes this contrast as simply unhelpful.5 Their moral constructivism
further shows that Kant’s moral philosophy need not appeal, as a basic
value or premiss, to the purported intrinsic, incommensurable value or
‘dignity’ (in contrast to price) of rational agency as such.6 Finally, their
moral constructivism is independent of issues about human motivation,
and so sets aside debates about ‘internal’ and ‘external’ links between
reasons and motives. Let me be very clear: Hume’s and Kant’s moral
constructivism is simply neutral about moral realism, about the contrast
between ‘consequentialism’ and ‘deontology’, about the putative incom-
mensurable value of human agency, and about intrinsic or extrinsic links
4
On the USA, see, e.g., Haines (1965); on Canada, see, e.g., The Canadian Charter of
Rights and Freedoms (1982), and judgments of the Supreme Court of Canada in the cases
Roncarelle v. Duplessis (1952), Perka v. The Queen (1984), and Hofer v. Hofer (1992). On
the German and French contexts, see, e.g., Archives de philosophie du droit 6 (1961): La
réforme des études de droit. Le droit naturel, Maihofer (1962), and Schmölz (1963). An
interesting contrast is provided by Chakraverti (1967), who, working within the English
tradition transported to India, considers ‘natural justice’ only as ‘fundamental principles of
judicial procedure’. (My thanks to Arthur Ripstein for references to Canadian law.)
5
In this I agree with Herman (1993), 208–40.
6
On Kant’s account of dignity, see Sensen (2009, 2011) and Waldron (2012).
RECONSTRUCTING MORAL CONSTRUCTIVISM
between reasons and motives. These views may, in some form, be true or
justified; they simply are not required by Hume’s and Kant’s Natural
Law Constructivism. These are cardinal virtues of their method and
its results, which show that persisting theoretical squabbles between
Humeans and Kantians over those issues are tangential to the central
issues examined here. This is also to say: I shall be forthright, even at risk
of perturbing various professional sensibilities, persuasions, or habits of
thought. However, fault finding has become such a professional preoccu-
pation that a reminder is in order, that critical assessment requires
reflective reading to determine whether or how the reader’s doubt,
query, or challenge may be answered by, or on the basis of, an author’s
published analysis; this alone distinguishes criticism from cavil.
2 Conspectus
2.1 Contra contemporary moral constructivisms
Famously, Hume’s ethical theory is rooted in his account of human
sentiments, and of how some sentiments become specifically moral
sentiments. Reading Hume’s theory of justice through the lens of his
ethical theory, however, fails to do justice to his theory of justice because
it occludes his radical recasting of natural law theory on a constructivist,
though objective, basis.7 In chapter 3, I argue that Hume’s construction
of the basic principles of justice is independent of his sentiment theory.
In chapter 4, I argue further that Hume’s theory of justice exposes some
substantial flaws in his sentiment-based ethical theory. Remarkably,
these flaws directly anticipate Kant’s reasons for rejecting moral empiri-
cism (discussed in }19).
Various contemporary neo-Humean ethical theories, such as Black-
burn’s projectivism, appeal, not to Hume’s sentiments, but rather to
various forms of subjective human responses, motives, emotions, mani-
fest preferences, values, moral commitments, moral intuitions, ‘validity
claims’ (Habermas’s Geltungsansprüche), and so forth. These contem-
porary forms of moral constructivism share the weaknesses of Hume’s
7
I am not the first to take seriously Hume’s natural law theory; I gratefully follow the
lead of Forbes (1977), Buckle (1991, 234–5, 298), and Haakonssen (1996), though I develop
Hume’s constructivist approach to natural law in greater detail.
RECONSTRUCTING MORAL CONSTRUCTIVISM
8
On those who pathologically precipitate interpersonal conflict, see Vallacher, et al
(2013); on the chronically obstreperous, see Prost (2009).
9
I shall comment only briefly on coherence theories of justification, which are less
plausible in moral philosophy than in epistemology, and are untenable even in this latter
domain. The main reason for this is that, to distinguish themselves from foundationalist
theories of justification, coherence theories must emphasize justificatory internalism, but
they then are subject to the ‘French novel’ objection, that coherence alone cannot
RECONSTRUCTING MORAL CONSTRUCTIVISM
distinguish between truth and any elaborately detailed, coherent fiction (Westphal 1989,
56–7; Bonjour 1997, 13–15).
10
E.g., Rawls (1971) sought to argue for his neo-Kantian conclusions on the basis of his
opponents’ empiricist, belief-desire model of (merely) instrumentally rational individual
(ist) agency; Gauthier (1986) sought to argue for his contractarian conclusions on the same
narrow basis.
11
The most successful constructivist response to egoism I have found is Beyleveld’s
(1991) subtle, systematic reconstruction of Gewirth’s Principle of Generic Consistency.
12
Wood (2014, 41–2, cf. 65–7) assumes that, ‘In general . . . justification is always
justification to someone.’ That assumption neglects Kant’s justificatory externalism.
Although it is important to Kant’s view that rationally judging that an action (or an
omission) is obligatory can also be motivating, Kant’s interest in justifying reasons is not
confined to what Wood calls ‘motivating reasons’; see chapters 5 and 6.
RECONSTRUCTING MORAL CONSTRUCTIVISM
3 Chapter Overview
Chapter 2 details the central issues about objectivity and conventional-
ism by reconsidering Socrates’ justly famous question to Euthyphro
about the status of piety and the gods’ love of piety, and indicates why
contemporary forms of moral constructivism are ill-suited to address
those issues. Their common weakness serves to highlight some central
merits of Hume’s and Kant’s Natural Law Constructivism.
Chapter 3 reconstructs Hume’s account of the basic rules of justice,
and how they count, on his view, as natural laws. I develop significantly
further Baier’s (1991, 243–8) insightful suggestions about the character
of Hume’s analysis to show that it is a powerful fragment of, and basis for
Natural Law Constructivism.
Chapter 4 argues that Hume’s theory of justice reveals basic deficien-
cies in his own sentiment-based ethical theory. Because Hume’s ethics
has been widely used as a model or inspiration for many contemporary
‘Of the Rise and Progress of the Arts and Sciences’, ¶39; note added to the third and
13
subsequent editions.
RECONSTRUCTING MORAL CONSTRUCTIVISM
14
In this connection Watson (1881) and Caird (1889) remain instructive.
15
See Westphal (2004, 2006, 2007a–c, 2010b, 2012a, 2016a). Very briefly, although
coherent, Kant’s central arguments by elimination for Transcendental Idealism are shown
RECONSTRUCTING MORAL CONSTRUCTIVISM
18
By saying that Kant’s constructivism is fundamentally social, I do not ascribe to him
any of the views commonly designated as ‘social constructivism’. Natural Law Construct-
ivism—whether in Hume’s or in Kant’s version—focuses upon necessary conditions of
social life, through which alone individual life and action are possible for our form of finite
rational agency.
RECONSTRUCTING MORAL CONSTRUCTIVISM
her acts to others, and the justification of the acts of others to any
individual, are inseparable aspects of one and the same justificatory
reasoning in which voluntary agreement plays no constitutive role.
(I reconsider Gauthier (1997) because the issues it addresses—and
those it raises—are more fundamental than subsequent discussions.)
Chapter 8 examines in greater detail the analysis sketched in chapter 7
(}32) of Kant’s justification of rights to possession and use. Kant’s
analysis appears to assume rather than prove the legitimacy of such
rights. This apparent petitio principii has been recapitulated or exacer-
bated, but not resolved in the literature. However, Kant provides a sound
justification of limited rights to possess and to use things: rights to
usufruct, not to private property. Kant’s argument is not purely a priori;
it is in Kant’s Critical sense ‘metaphysical’ because it applies the pure a
priori ‘Universal Principle of Justice’ (Recht) to the concept of finite
rational human agency.19 Kant’s ‘application’ implicitly involves a
‘Contradiction in Conception’ test, which I explicate in some detail.
The limited rights to possession and use justified by Kant’s argument
suffice for his justification of the legitimacy of the (republican) state.
This chapter reconstructs and defends the soundness of Kant’s argu-
ment to justify rights to usufruct, which he bases on human autonomy.
In so doing, it defends the modal interpretation of Kant’s universaliza-
tion tests (advocated by O’Neill) against the objection that the modal
interpretation cannot, in the end, avoid appeal to some form of consent.
By developing and refining Hume’s (and Rousseau’s) preliminary ver-
sions of Natural Law Constructivism, Kant makes a unique and uniquely
powerful contribution to a major issue in moral philosophy (generically
speaking) in part by providing a revolutionary reconstruction of natural
law, and in part by showing that only rights to usufruct can be defended
by appeal to natural law, whereas rights to property require public
legislation (positive law).
Chapter 9 concludes this study by briefly recapitulating some of its
central findings and suggesting further lines of development. One central
result may not be surprising, but merits clear and cogent justification and
re-affirmation: proper accountancy is a fundamental matter of justice,
19
‘Recht’ is the German counterpart to ‘ius’, i.e. justice in its broadest and most
fundamental normative sense. I render the term as ‘justice’; using ‘right’ provides no
translation.
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services by the foreign Powers for whom he acted. Mr. Bulwer wrote
to congratulate him on his success:—‘Your conduct and explanations
are equally good, and I am gratified with you beyond measure. There
is nothing to change in your views or intuitions.’
Again in a later letter, Mr. Bulwer repeats the expression of his
satisfaction:—‘I have a great regard for you, and a high opinion of
you, and, whenever it is in my power, will do you a service. Be sure
of success; I am for you. All of us have had to contend with
difficulties.’
Mr. Hay further received the thanks of the different Governments
concerned, and the Kings of Denmark and Sweden sent him
jewelled stars, as Commander of the Orders of the Danebrog, and of
the Polar Star respectively. These, according to Foreign Office
regulations, he declined, as also the Spanish Order of Charles XII.
Subsequently he received, from the two former sovereigns,
magnificent gifts of plate, which H.B.M.’s Government authorised
him to accept.
Some notes relating to this time, made by Mr. Hay in after years,
may prove of interest.
I am glad to hear that you have won such golden opinions in Spain and in
Downing Street, and for your sake I shall be glad to learn that promotion was the
result. But as the last letters from the Foreign Office speak of you as first attaché
to this Embassy on Alison’s apotheosis, I presume that you are to return, at least
for the present, and that being the case, I shall be glad to have your services as
soon as you can conveniently return to us. Napier is going home to be married. . . .
Add to this that I have lots of business in hand, and very important business too.
As Pisani is in the Chancery as of yore, I will avail myself of your help with less
sacrifice of your eyes, and hazard to your health.
I hope you will be able to read these hieroglyphics. Believe me very sincerely
yours,
S. C.
‘I have been wishing,’ wrote Lord Ponsonby in April, 1845, ‘ever since I heard
of your appointment, to write to you and say how very much I rejoiced at it, but I
fancied it might be more prudent to hold my tongue; your letter of the 11th
(received this night) has set me free, and I will declare my conviction that however
advantageous your nomination to the important post may be to yourself, the
English Government will find it more so for their own objects. Your intimate
knowledge of the country where you are to serve, and I will add, your talents, your
zeal, your courage and honesty and manner, such as I know them to be, will
enable you to overcome difficulties which might be held insuperable; and I suspect
that the time will come when you will have to encounter them. Aberdeen is a kind
man, and I have no doubt of his considering your father’s services as they deserve
to be considered, but I am very sure he would not have shown his estimation of
them in the way he has done, unless he had cause to know and to appreciate the
capacity of the father’s son. Have no fear that “the door of ambition is closed
against you.” I think it is opened wide to you now; there will be plenty of room for
the display of your judgment and activity in the management of questions of great
importance, and as I feel confident you will succeed, I entertain no doubt of your
mounting to what are called higher posts, though I do doubt if you will find any of
them demanding more skill and vigour in the occupier than you will be called upon
to display where you now are.
‘Your most kind remembrance of the time we passed together gives me very
great pleasure; you are a man to make the most profit of experience, and in that
time I allude to, many affairs well worth noting were in fermentation. I am too wise
(excuse this vanity) to attribute to myself anything more than honesty and good
fortune as the cause of the success that attended the Embassy, and it is claiming a
great deal too much I fear. I will accept, gratefully, the kind things you say of me
personally, and I am happy to know that my manner to you (for there were no
deeds) showed the feeling of friendship for you which sprung up in me from my
observation of your good qualities.
‘Lady Ponsonby is well, and at this moment I hope amusing herself at a ball at
Lady Palmerston’s. I will give your message to her when she comes home, and I
am sure she will be most happy to receive it. She has shared in my rejoicings for
your advancement.’
CHAPTER VII.
MARÁKESH. 1845-46.
I have been daily expecting a summons ‘to the Court exalted of the Lord’ (par
excellence), but His Sherifian Majesty has made a move from the city of Meknes,
fearing, I suppose, to be stalemated by the knight Bugeaud and his ten thousand
pawns.
By latest accounts from the interior the Sultan has arrived at the united town of
Rabat and Salli, the latter famous, as you may remember, in days of yore for its
dreaded rovers.
To-morrow I expect a courier from the Sultan which will decide, I hope, the time
and place for my visit to His Majesty, and, when en route, I hope to be able to
better amuse you by some accounts of this ‘barbarous’ people.
You ask whether I think the Moors will submit to be ‘peaceably invaded’ by the
French in their ‘chasse’ of Abd-el-Kader? My answer is in the negative, and I fear
that such invasion will produce a most complicated state of affairs throughout this
Empire, which might hereafter create a question of grave importance.
The French start from a wrong principle in their mania for destroying Abd-el-
Kader; for if this French hydra were killed to-morrow, few months would elapse
before another arose. It is to the hostile and fanatical feeling of the inhabitants that
they must attribute all their troubles, and until they find a better cure for this feeling
than a system of violence and retaliation, battle and murder will never cease in that
territory as long as an armed Arab exists.
When Algiers was first taken, my late father, who was an old soldier, and knew
the character of the Arab, remarked to the French Chargé d’Affaires, who was
boasting of the importance of their newly-acquired colony, that ‘it would prove a
very dear conquest,’ and that he felt positive that ‘before twenty years elapsed, a
hundred thousand men would be required to hold the country, and that each year
would bring fresh demands for troops, not to protect their colonists, but to destroy
the Arabs.’
Another evil for the French Government is that the military chiefs, sent to fight
in Africa, know that if there be no Abd-el-Kader there will be no Duc d’Isly, no
‘gloire,’ no crosses. Were either Louis Philippe, or Guizot, Governor of Algiers, I
could foresee something like future tranquillity; but at present I look forward to a
series of events, upon which I could write chapters, that will render necessary
either the conquest of Morocco by the French, or the limitation, for another score
of years, of their possessions to within a day’s journey of the coast.
I must not be more explicit on this subject, or you would think me perhaps to be
trespassing on the limits of what a servant of the public is not justified in writing
thus privately. . . .
Here at once, in a three hours’ sail from Gibraltar, you are transported, as if by
enchantment, a thousand or two thousand years back, and you find yourself
among the same people and the same style of living as you read of in the
Scriptures. The Bible and the ‘Arabian Nights’ are your best handbooks, and would
best prepare you for the scene. Lane’s most excellent work, on the ‘Customs and
Manners of the Egyptians,’ is the most exact work I ever read of Mohammedan
customs, and is very applicable to this country.
I am off for the exalted Court of His Sherifian Majesty Sultan Mulai
Abderahman, and alas! it is Tuesday, an unlucky day for ‘the faithful’:
for ‘Telatsa felatsa,’ say the Moors—on the third day (Tuesday) all
fails; but good omens have attended the start, and, as I am taught by
my favourite trooper, Kaid Abd-el-Kerim, now snoring at my tent
door, good omens such as I have experienced this morning will
counterbalance the unlucky day: ‘God forbid,’ said he, ‘that its name
should be repeated.’
Yes, as I put my foot in the stirrup, a holy dervish, one who would
be profanely called in Europe a madman, rushed up and threw his
patchwork and party-coloured mantle over me, and, lifting up his
hand towards heaven, cried out, ‘God’s blessing and the Sultan’s
favour be with you!’ I threw his Holiness a small coin, for no doubt I
had deprived him of much virtue,—at least I should suppose so by
the otherwise unaccountable creeping and itching I experienced; but
perhaps my fancy may have misled me.
Kaid ‘Bu Jebel’ (‘the Father of the Mountain,’ grandfather, I
suppose, of the Mouse!), with his doughty followers, compose my
escort—some thirty in all. I found them drawn up in zig-zag line in
the little Sok (market-place), headed, though not commanded, by
young Sid Abd-el-Malek, the son of my old friend Kaid Ben Abu,
governor of Rif, who, at my particular request, is to accompany us.
In the outer market-place all the corps of foreign Representatives,
a host of chevaliers, but very mal à cheval, joined our party, and a
scene commenced, which continued till they left us, of snorting,
rearing, kicking, and exclamations. Apologies, mille pardonizing, ‘et
mille et mille’ were offered, when the heels of one of their chargers
passed within an inch of my knee-pan.
Powder-play was commenced by the Kaid, and some of my
colleagues became suddenly pedestrians. I think I can match any
one of them on horseback, although the pen may yield. God be
praised! we parted without injury.
An honest countryman from the village of Suanni, on passing by,
offered me his bowl of milk to drink. It was not to be refused, and as I
lifted the weighty earthen vessel to my mouth, my horse made a
slight plunge, and a copious libation gushed over my gilded
armour[7] and accoutrements.
‘Oh! what good fortune,’ shouted my escort. ‘Peace and plenty!’
Omen the second.
Our baggage had started some time before us, and had halted at
‘Ain Dalia,’ or ‘the fountain of the vine;’ the encampment, consisting
of some thirteen tents, enlivened the scene and the wild country
around.
A camp is a pretty sight, and these people, lately enfranchised, as
it were, from their nomad life, well understand the arrangements and
economy expedient on such occasions. Our nags were soon
picketed round the tents, and the camp attendants, drawn up in line,
called down, as I approached, God’s blessing on their work, with a
prayer for a safe journey and return.
A quarrel or two, with much screaming and uttering of the most
guttural sounds, followed this momentary calm. The Moors are
children, and children will quarrel. Kaddor swore at the Hadj’s great-
great-grandmother, and the Hadj burnt all Kaddor’s ancestors. Their
friends intervened, and there was much mediation, but peace could
not be effected. My turn then came, and I said, ‘God’s curse on the
devil, who causes men’s hearts to be blackened by passion. Love
each other, as God loveth you.’ So the Hadj gave Kaddor a hearty
buss, and Kaddor, with pouting lips, kissed the Hadj’s grizzly beard,
and each cursed the devil.
At coffee time I invited the Kaids and the Taleb to sip with me, and
wondrous tales ensued on their part, and in return I talked of
Stambul, its magnificence and fame.
Kaid Abd-el-Kerim informed me he commanded as ‘Kaid Erha,’ or
colonel, a body of cavalry at the battle of Isly in 1844, when
Maréchal Bugeaud invaded Morocco with a force of twelve thousand
men and attacked the Sultan’s army.
Kaid Abd-el-Kerim described the strong position that Sid
Mohammed, the eldest son of Sultan Mulai Abderahman, had taken
up with his forces on the brow of a hill, and how earthworks had
been thrown up, on which field-pieces were placed, under the
command of a Spanish renegade, who had been a sergeant of
artillery in Spain. ‘But,’ said the Kaid, ‘I do not consider the conflict
with the French can be called a battle.’
‘How is that?’ I inquired, ‘for the Moorish forces were routed, the
Sultan’s camp and the field-pieces taken possession of.’
‘Yes,’ said the Kaid. ‘Still I maintain it could not be called a battle,
for we never had an opportunity of a fair fight, so as to be able to
judge whether the Mussulmen or the French were the braver
warriors.’
I then asked the Kaid to describe what took place, as also his
reasons for not considering it a fair fight.
The Kaid replied: ‘When the French force first came in sight, at a
distance of about an hour’s walk (3½ miles), we observed that
neither cavalry, infantry, nor artillery were spread out—as ought to be
done—in line, before a battle. They had formed together a compact
mass like a “berod” (swarm of bees), and thus advanced towards us
without a halt, banners flying, and music playing. It was a “fraja” (a
very fine sight).
‘Sid Mohammed ordered our cavalry to advance on the plain
below the encampment, and the infantry, chiefly composed of tribes
of mountaineers, to take up their position on our flanks on the
adjoining slopes.
‘On came the French, on, on, without halting, or firing a gun,
notwithstanding that our artillery played upon them, and the tribes
kept up a running fire from the heights on each flank. On came the
French, without a pause that would give us an opportunity of a fair
fight to test the prowess of the contending forces.’
‘Explain,’ I interposed, ‘what you consider would have been a
battle.’
‘Why,’ resumed the Kaid, ‘the French force ought to have halted
when they got within half a mile; then we should have ordered a
body of cavalry to advance and charge; the French might have done
likewise; the troopers would have met, and a hand-to-hand conflict
would have ensued. Those who got worsted would have retreated;
other bodies on either side would have charged, and then likewise
the infantry would have advanced and joined in the affray. Finally,
when either force retreated, the artillery would have covered their
retreat, the battle would have been brought to a conclusion and we
should have known who were the best and bravest warriors: but no
—on came the French without a halt, and when our cavalry charged,
the French infantry fired and mowed them down, even killing with
their bayonets some of our troopers who had charged right up to the
mass of French soldiers.
‘On they came; our cavalry, after repeated charges, having no
opportunity of fair fight, retreated, and so did the tribes. The
renegade fired his field-pieces as the French advanced upon our
camp, and he, as also many of the artillerymen, were killed standing
at their guns.
‘What was to be done? It was quite a surprise. Sid Mohammed
fled with all the cavalry, abandoning tents, ammunition, and many
thousand animals.
‘It was not a fair battle, and therefore I do not consider it a defeat.’
The Taleb then gave us the following dialogue between the ‘fellah’
(farmer) Ben Taieb Zarhoni and the wise F’ki Sid Mohammed Ben
Nasr.
Ben Nasr. ‘God has permitted the cursed Nazarenes to take
possession of Algiers, as a punishment for the sins of the
Mussulmans of that territory who had neglected to follow the
precepts of our Prophet—may God’s blessing be upon him! Ere long
we Moors shall likewise be punished for our sins and wickedness by
the anger of God, who will permit the Christians to take possession
of the country of our forefathers.’
Zarhoni. ‘I do not comprehend why an all-just God should punish,
without discrimination, in this manner; for, in so doing, he punishes
the innocent as well as the guilty. Why should the man who has
obeyed God’s precepts from his youth upwards, become subject to
the law of the accursed Christian because some of his brethren are
sinful? How comes it that the Deity, in His wisdom, has not found
more just ways of inflicting punishment on the guilty?’
Ben Nasr. ‘After the Deluge and the destruction of mankind,
Noah’s mind was troubled with the same fallacies, and he prayed to
God to enlighten him and teach him why the innocent were drowned
as well as the sinful. He was thereupon thrown into a trance, and
God sent a great number of fleas which crawled up his leg; upon one
biting him, Noah awoke and rubbed his hand over the bitten part,
killing not only the offending flea, but many others.
‘An Angel then appeared and said, “O man! Why killest thou fleas
which have not injured thee?”
‘Noah answered and said, “O Lord! These fleas are insignificant
and noxious creatures.”
‘To which the Angel replied, “As thou hast destroyed these insects
and not distinguished between the guilty and the harmless, on
account of the offence of one flea, thus also had the Almighty
ordained the Deluge for the destruction of mankind—who were, in
His sight, but noxious creatures upon earth.”
‘Noah bowed his head to the ground, and was dumb.’
Zarhoni. ‘If I had been Noah, I should have replied to the Angel
—“An almighty, an all-seeing God could distinguish the guilty from
the innocent: but a poor ignorant man, awaking from a dream on
being bitten by a flea, could not be expected to select which was the
offending, and which the harmless flea.”’
Ben Nasr. ‘It appears Noah was not so ready with a reply as you
are.’
Next we had the history of the son of Tama, who would not say
‘Enshallah’ (God willing).
‘“Say Enshallah! when you propose to make a journey or to
undertake anything: then fortune will attend you,” said the learned
F’ki Bitiwi to his young friend Selam Amu.
‘Know you not what the other day befell Abd-el-Kerim the son of
Tama the widow of the Sheikh of Amar? Hear then.
‘Abd-el-Kerim, last market day, told his mother he was going to
the Sok of Had-el-Gharbía to buy a cow.
‘The widow Tama, a devout good woman, reprimanded her son
for not adding “Enshallah.” To this Abd-el-Kerim replied, in a taunting
and blasphemous manner, that he needed not God’s assistance,
either to go to market, or to buy a cow; for, said the rash young man,
“Have I not here in the hood of my jelab more than sufficient money
for the purpose? Have I not legs to carry me to the Sok? Are there
not always cows to be sold?”
‘His mother again rebuked him, saying, “Without God’s will and
His assistance, no man can succeed in life.”
‘Abd-el-Kerim laughed at her and, shaking the money in his hood,
set off to the market which was only about an hour’s journey from
their village.
‘On reaching the river Gharifa he found it unusually swollen and
was obliged to wade more than waist deep.
‘When he reached the middle of the stream, the current was
running very strong and there came on a heavy shower of rain. Abd-
el-Kerim forgot the money in the hood of his jelab and pulled it over
his head to prevent his getting wet, and the coins fell into the river
and were lost in the mud.
‘In vain did Abd-el-Kerim dive and endeavour to recover his
money. The river was rising, the current became more rapid every
moment and he was obliged to retrace his steps and return in a very
wretched state to his village. Wet to the skin, without his money or
his cow, bitterly repenting that he had not followed his mother’s
advice, he vowed he would endeavour to be a better Moslem in the
future.
‘On entering the village, he met his cousin Husain, who, having
seen him set out in the morning for the market, inquired what
brought him back so early.
‘Oh, said Abd-el-Kerim, it has pleased God that I should not listen
to the advice of my mother, who desired me to say “Enshallah.” I
intended to have bought a cow, but God ordained I should reach the
river just as it pleased God it should begin to rain. And then it was
His will that I should forget the money in the hood of my jelab: so I
pulled the hood over my head and by God’s will it was ordained that
my money should thus be lost in the river. Now, if it please God, I
vow with God’s assistance, never to say or do anything without
asking the aid and blessing of the Almighty—Enshallah!’
Another story was that of ‘the lion and the lark.’