An Imam in Paris

Account of a Stay in France by an Egyptian Cleric (1826-1831)

Rifa'a Al-Tahtawi, Daniel L. Newman, Daniel L. Newman

• Publisher: Saqi Books
• Year: 2011
• Print ISBN: 9780863564079
• eBook ISBN: 9780863568909
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: French History
• Index: History

In the 1820s, Rifa`a Rafi` al-Tahtawi, a young Muslim cleric, was a leading member of the first Egyptian educational mission to Paris, where he remained for five years, documenting his observations of European culture. His account, Takhlis al-Ibriz fi Talkhis Bariz, is one of the earliest and most influential records of the Muslim encounter with Enlightenment-era European thought, introducing ideas of modernity to his native land. In addition to its historical and literary value, al-Tahtawi's work offers invaluable insight into early conceptions of Europe and the `Other'. Its observations are as vibrant and palpable today as they were over 150 years ago; informative and often acute, to humorous effect. An irrefutable classic, this new edition of the first English translation is of seminal value. It is introduced and carefully annotated by a scholar fluent in the life, times and milieu of its narrator.

PART ONE

INTRODUCTION

ONE

The ‘Egyptian’ Mission to Europe

Background

After destroying the power of the former rulers of Egypt, the slave-soldier dynasty of the MamlÙks,¹ MuÎammad ÝAlÐ (1770–1849) – a former Albanian mercenary who had been part of the Ottoman force sent to oust the French from Egypt (with the help of the British) – found himself in total control of the country. In 1805, he was appointed walÐ (governor) by the Ottoman Sultan, to whose empire Egypt belonged, and received the honorary title of Pasha. It was clear from the start that the new ruler was not going to allow his dominion to continue its slumber of times past. Nothing if not ambitious, MuÎammad ÝAlÐ Pasha set about building a regional superpower (as well as a dynasty), which would on more than one occasion bring him into conflict with his liege lord in Constantinople. Having witnessed modern European warfare capability, MuÎammad ÝAlÐ realized that in order to further his ambition, he would require outside help in the guise of military aid from the West. It is not as if this approach was entirely new; indeed, the core of the Ottoman contingent sent to Egypt had been trained by German officers and constituted the first companies within the so-called ‘New Army’ (niÛÁm-i jedÐd ), set up by the ‘modernizing’ Sultan SelÐm III (1789–1807).² Europeans had been involved in the modernization of Ottoman education since the first half of the 18th century, Count Claude-Alexandre de Bonneval (d. 1747) having founded the first school of geometry (hendesehane) in Constantinople in 1734,³ whereas the famous Franco-Hungarian engineer Baron de Tott (d. 1793) set up a technical college.⁴ These were followed by other institutes such as the Imperial Naval School (Mühendishane-i bahri-i hümayun, 1773) and the Military Engineering School (Mühendishane-i hümayun, 1784). The latter establishment marked the first milestone in the introduction of European-style education as its staff consisted for the most part of French military engineers.⁵ This school also gave a new impetus to the translation movement started under MuÒÔafÁ III (d. 1774), shifting its focus to military manuals, especially French ones.⁶ It was not until the reign of SelÐm III that European experts and army personnel were brought in to build and train a European-style army, whereas it is interesting to note that the young Napoleon Bonaparte was at one time put forward as the head of a military mission to Turkey.⁷ It was also in the same period of what can be called the Ottoman perestroika that for the first time permanent embassies were established in various European capitals: London (1793), Vienna (1794), Berlin (1795) and Paris (1796).⁸

Although at first MuÎammad ÝAlÐ’s primary concern lay with all matters military, i.e. the formation of his own NiÛÁm al-jadÐd,⁹ he soon began to hatch far more ambitious plans, aimed at modernizing the entire country through the introduction of European sciences. The key to the project was, of course, education. And so, in addition to recruiting foreign military advisers and trainers, he chose the revolutionary path of sending people to the very places where these sciences had been developed.

The first to be sent was a Turk by the name of ÝUthmÁn NÙr al-DÐn (1797–1834), whose beginnings could hardly have been more humble as his father was a water carrier at MuÎammad ÝAlÐ’s court. Nevertheless, for reasons still unclear, his name was put forward by Joseph Bokty, the consul-general of Sweden, who had been entrusted with selecting some boys for training in the European sciences in Italy. Although the initial idea was to send a group of students, ÝUthmÁn was the only one chosen, and in 1809 he left for Europe, returning to his native land only eight years later.¹⁰ After a brief spell in Switzerland and Germany, he proceeded to Italy, where he stayed for several years and studied engineering and military and naval sciences (in Livorno, Milan and Rome), and finally ended up in Paris, where he remained for a little over a year to study French, English and mathematics. In addition to educating himself, ÝUthmÁn was also charged with acquiring as many books as he could, as MuÎammad ÝAlÐ, though illiterate himself until his late forties, was interested in any and all books dealing with the modern sciences and technologies or any other subjects that could be useful in the training of officials and the advancement of the country.¹¹

Naturally, these works would have to be translated as well as printed, and so in addition to purchasing presses in France and Italy, he in 1815 sent the 15-year-old Syrian-born NiqÙlÁ MassÁbikÐ (d. 1830) to Milan to learn the art of printing.¹² He was accompanied by at least two other Syrian Christian students, RafÁ’Ðl MassÁbikÐ and IlyÁs ÑabbÁgh, who after a short and, it would seem, inauspicious stay in Milan went on to Turin where they took classes in, respectively, mathematics and chemistry.¹³

That the first students were sent to Italy was not exactly a coincidence. First of all, there were long-standing trading links between the two countries, and Italian city-states were the first to have diplomatic representation in Egypt (as well as in other Muslim lands). Second, it had the advantage of geographical proximity. Third, Italians made up more than two-thirds of the European expatriate community; predominantly traders, many also served as doctors or as officers in the Egyptian army. Finally, the presence of large Italian trading communities all along the Islamic shores of the Mediterranean meant that Italian was the most widely understood European language in both the Near East and North Africa. Indeed, at least one Muslim ruler, the Tunisian AÎmad Bey (1837–55) actually spoke it and conversed in it with the French King Louis-Philippe during a state visit to France in December 1846.¹⁴ The preferential linguistic relationship with Italy was reinforced through the lingua franca, the Romance-based commercial link language in use in the eastern and southern Mediterranean Basin since the Middle Ages. Within this creole, which was a mixture of several languages (both Eastern and Western), Italic dialects constituted the dominant Romance substratum.¹⁵

It is worth noting that none of these students was in fact a native Egyptian. The main reason for this was the fact that there were hardly any native Egyptian officials, nearly all being of foreign (Turkish, Georgian, Albanian) extraction, as indeed MuÎammad ÝAlÐ himself was. The Syrian Christian connection, on the other hand, went back to the French occupation of Egypt. Many of the Syrian expatriates, who had themselves escaped religious persecution at home or were descendants of refugees, established close links with the French administration, and because of their language skills (developed through long-standing trading contacts with Europeans) served as interpreters and liaison officers with the local population. In the face of Muslim opposition, Bonaparte very early on availed himself of the services of the local religious minorities (Syrian Christians, Copts) as they were most inclined towards the French cause. Minorities were also recruited into the French forces, a policy that would later become standard practice in the French military and was to be used with great success in other campaigns, notably in Algeria (e.g. the Zouaves). This led to the creation of a Greek legion, led by Colonel Papas Oglou, a MamlÙk renegade from Chios, who played a part in the suppression of the first Cairo insurgence of October 1798.¹⁶ By far the most significant creation, however, was an independent Coptic legion placed under the command of MuÝallim YaÝqÙb (1745–1801). From an ill-trained ragtag band, the legion grew into a disciplined fighting unit, which, by 1801, counted a staggering 24,000 men.¹⁷ In addition, French policy included the appointment of minorities to local government structures, which were dominated by Copts, who had the additional advantage of being wholly Egyptian and of having administrative experience, though they had never been allowed officially to hold public office.¹⁸ Bonaparte even appointed two Syrian Christians to his council of local dignitaries (DÐwÁn). Unsurprisingly, these types of collaboration with the foreign infidel, combined with rumours of plans for a semi-independent Egyptian state run by Copts,¹⁹ caused a great deal of bad blood among the Muslim population, which feelings were exacerbated by accounts of maltreatment of Muslims by their Christian compatriots, while, one may suspect, the privileged economic status of many Syrian Christians (and to a lesser extent Copts) did not help matters much either.²⁰ As a result, many of them (though far fewer than one might expect), fearful of an anti-Christian backlash, accompanied the French expedition force home in self-imposed exile.²¹ Some would continue to play a role as intermediaries between the East and their adoptive France. Notable examples were the Syrians Michel Sabbag (MÐkhÁ’Ðl al-ÑabbÁgh),²² Joanny Pharaon (see below) and BÁsÐl Fakhr (Basile Fackr),²³ and the Copt Ellious Bocthor (IlyÁs BuqÔur al-AsyÙÔÐ),²⁴ all of whom made substantial contributions to Arabic studies in France and played a significant role as cultural intermediaries.

In Egypt, certain Christ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• Note on Transcription
• Preface to the Second Edition
• Preface
• Part One: Introduction
• Part Two: Takhlīṣ al-Ibrīz fī Talkhīṣ Bārīz
• Epilogue
• Bibliography
• Index