^{page 209 note 2} The assumption of a uniform response by Islamic leaders to Westernization encourages the dangerous practice of attributing to an unknown situation conclusions drawn from a known situation. Yet, with regard to the attitudes of the ulama toward modern political currents, it is diversity rather than uniformity which emerges as a theme from recent studies. Among these, of particular interest are two anthologies, each edited by a well-known scholar: Baer, Gabriel, ed., The ‘Ulamâ’ in Modern History (Jerusalem: Israel Oriental Society, 1971)Google Scholar and Keddie, Nikki R., ed., Scholars, Saints, and Sufis: Muslim Religious Institutions in the Middle East since 1500 (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1972). In addition to the excellent articles that these volumes contain, the editors' introductions also contributed to the ideas that figure in the initial half of this study.Google Scholar

^{page 209 note 3} The phrase delimiting the periodization, as many will recognize, comes from Hourani's, Albert classic Arabic Thought in the Liberal Age, 1798–1939 (London: Oxford University Press, 1962).Google Scholar Hourani defines the ‘liberal age’ as that during which Arabic thought was preoccupied with the problem of ‘Westernization’. This essay emphasizes the pre-World War I period, in part because of the focus of my own dissertation: ‘The Tunisian Ulama: Social Structure and Response to Ideological Currents, 1873–1914’ (University of California, Los Angeles, 1973).Google Scholar

^{page 210 note 1} Burke, Edmund III, ‘The Moroccan Ulama, 1860–1912: An Introduction’, in Keddie, op. cit. pp. 116–17.Google Scholar

^{page 210 note 2} Ma'oz, Moshe, ‘The 'Ulamâ’, and the Process of Modernization in Syria during the Mid-Nineteenth Century’, in Baer, op. cit. pp. 79–80.Google Scholar

^{page 211 note 1} Loutfi, Afaf el Sayed [Marsot], ‘The Role of the ‘Ulamâ’ in Egypt during the Early Nineteenth Century’, in Holt, P. M., ed., Political and Social Change in Modern Egypt (London: Oxford University Press, 1968), pp. 264–80.Google Scholar

^{page 211 note 2} Keddie, Nikki R., ‘The Roots of the Ulama's Power in Modern Iran’, in Keddie, op. cit. pp. 212–13.Google Scholar

^{page 211 note 3} See Dekmejian, R. H. and Wyszomirski, M. J., ‘Charismatic Leadership in Islam: The Mahdi of the Sudan’, Comparative Studies in Society and History, 14, 2 (03 1972), pp. 193–214.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

^{page 211 note 4} Lewis, Bernard, The Emergence of Modern Turkey (London: Oxford University Press, 2nd ed., 1968), pp. 340–43.Google Scholar

^{page 211 note 5} Keddie, Nikki R., ‘Pan-Islam as Proto-Nationalism’, Journal of Modern History, 41 (1969), 17–28.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

^{page 211 note 6} Haim, Sylvia G., Arab Nationalism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1964), p. 3.Google Scholar

^{page 212 note 1} Porath, Yehoshua, ‘Al-Hâjj Amîn al-Husaynî, Mufti of Jerusalem: His Rise to Power and the Consolidation of His Position’, in Baer, op. cit. pp. 121–56.Google Scholar

^{page 212 note 2} Friedmann, Yohanan, ‘The Attitude of the Jam'iyyat-i ‘Ulamâ’ Hind to the Indian National Movement and the Establishment of Pakistan’, in Baer, op. cit. pp. 169–71;Google Scholarcf. Ahmad, Aziz, ‘Activism of the Ulama in Pakistan’, in Keddie, Scholars, Saints, and Sufis, pp. 57–72.Google Scholar

^{page 212 note 3} Arnold, T. W., The Caliphate (London: Routledge & Paul, 1965), passim.Google Scholar

^{page 213 note 1} al-Mulk, Nizām, The Book of Government; or, Rules for Kings: The Siydsat-nâma or Siyar al-mulûk, trans. Darke, Hubert (London: Routledge & Paul, 1960), P. 46;Google Scholar cf. the section entitled ‘The Functions of the Religious Institution of the Caliphate’, in Khaldun, Ibn, The Muqaddimah, trans. by Rosenthal, Franz (New York: Pantheon Books, 1958), 1, 448–9.Google Scholar

^{page 213 note 2} Waterbury, John, The Commander of the Faithful: The Moroccan Political Elite — A Study in Segmented Politics (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1970).Google Scholar

^{page 213 note 3} Afaf Lutfi al-Sayyid Marsot, ‘The Ulama of Cairo in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries’, in Keddie, Scholars, Saints, and Sufis, p. 150.Google Scholar

^{page 213 note 4} Crecelius, Daniel, ‘Nonideological Responses of the Egyptian Ulama to Modernization’, in Keddie, Scholars, Saints, and Sufis, pp. 173–4.Google Scholar

^{page 214 note 1} Keddie, ‘The Roots of the Ulama's Power in Modern Iran’, p. 212.Google Scholar

^{page 214 note 2} Algar, Hamid, ‘The Oppositional Role of the Ulama in Twentieth-Century Iran’, in Keddie, Scholars, Saints, and Sufis, p. 231; cf. Keddie, ‘The Roots of the Ulama's Power in Modern Iran’, p. 212.Google Scholar

^{page 214 note 3} [Marsot], ‘The ‘Ulamā’ in Egypt’, p. 273.Google Scholar

^{page 214 note 4} Ma'oz, op. cit. pp. 77–8.Google Scholar

^{page 215 note 1} Heyd, Uriel, ‘The Ottoman ‘Ulamâ’ and Westernization in the Time of Selîm III and Mahmûd II’, in Heyd, Uriel, ed., Scripta Hierosolymitana, vol. IX (1961): Studies in Islamic History and Civilization (Jerusalem: Hebrew University Press, 1961), pp. 74–7.Google Scholar

^{page 215 note 2} Mahmud II saw in the defeat evidence that the reforms had not gone far enough. See Avigdor Levy, ‘The Ottoman Ulema and the Military Reforms of Sultan Mahmud II’, in Baer, op. Cit. p. 30.Google Scholar

^{page 215 note 3} The tanzîmât era has more or less been delimited to the period beginning with the Hatt-i şerif of Gülhane in 1839 and ending with the accession of Abdülhamid II in 1878. See Davison, Roderic H., Reform in the Ottoman Empire, 1856–1876 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1963);Google Scholar and Chambers, Richard L., ‘The Ottoman Ulema and the Tanzimat’, in Keddie, Scholars, Saints, and Sufis, pp. 33–46.Google Scholar

^{page 215 note 4} See Laoust, Henri, ‘Le réformisme orthodoxe des “Salafiya” et les caractéres généraux de son orientation actuelle’, Revue des Etudes Islamiques, n.v. (1932), 175–224;Google Scholar and Vatikiotis, P. J., ‘Muhammad 'Abduh and the Quest for a Muslim Humanism’, Arabica, 4, 1 (1957), 55–72.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

^{page 216 note 1} See Kedouri, Elie, Afghani and 'Abduh: An Essay on Religious Unbelief and Political Activism in Modern Islam (London: Cass, 1966).Google Scholar The subsequent Salafiyya ulama in Morocco, who concentrated on ridding orthodox Islam of what they considered to be the heretical excesses of the popular religious brotherhoods, were more puritanical and closer to the Wahhabi tradition. See Speight, R. Marston, ‘Islamic Reform in Morocco’, Muslim World, 53, 1 (01 1963), 41–9.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

^{page 216 note 2} See Berkes, Niyazi, The Development of Secularism in Turkey (Montreal: McGill University Press, 1964).Google Scholar

^{page 216 note 3} Ma'oz, op. cit. pp. 84–6.Google Scholar

^{page 216 note 4} In all fairness to the reformers, it ought to be pointed out that as a rule loans and concessions became the policy of naïve and greedy sovereigns against the advice of their reformist ministers. Most ulama, however, considered loans and concessions an integral part of the tanzimat.Google Scholar

^{page 217 note 1} Keddie, Nikki R., Religion and Rebellion in Iran: The Tobacco Protest of 1891–1892 (London: Cass, 1966),Google Scholar and ‘The Origins of the Religious-Radical Alliance in Iran’, Past and Present, no. 3 (07 1966), 70–80.Google Scholar

^{page 217 note 2} Burke, ‘The Moroccan Ulama, 1860–1912’, pp. 115–22;Google Scholar and ‘Pan-Islam and Moroccan Resistance to French Colonial Penetration, 1900–1912’, Journal of African History, 13, i (01 1972), 97–118.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

^{page 217 note 3} Khaldun, Ibn, op. cit. i, 452–6.Google Scholar

^{page 217 note 4} See von Grunebaum, G. E., Medieval Islam (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1953 ed.), pp. 170–222;Google ScholarLevy, Reuben, The Social Structure of Islam (London: Cambridge University Press, 1965), pp. 53–90; and the article ‘al-Khâşşa’, El ².Google Scholar

^{page 218 note 1} Yet in Arab portions of the Ottoman Empire, where the Hanafi rite was introduced among peoples who traditionally observed the Shafi'i or Maliki rites, the Hanafi ulama were commonly regarded as being representatives of the Turkish ruling elite. Thus in the Sudan, where religious institutions had a popular rather than an orthodox character, the Egyptian Hanafi ulama appointed there were considered agents of the Egyptian and, after 1898, of the British governments. See Gabriel Warburg, ‘Religious Policy in the Northern Sudan: ‘Ulamâ’ and Sûfism, 1899–1918’, in Baer, op. cit. pp. 89–119;Google Scholar and Voll, John O., ‘The British, the ‘Ulamâ’, and Popular Islam in the Early Anglo-Egyptian Sudan’, International Journal of Middle East Studies, 2 (1971), 212–18.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

^{page 218 note 2} Burke, ‘The Moroccan Ulama, 1860–1912’, pp. 93–9.Google Scholar

^{page 218 note 3} Afaf Lutfi al-Sayyid Marsot, ‘The Ulama of Cairo in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries’, in Keddie, Scholars, Saints, and Sufis, pp. 157–8;Google Scholar cf. Shaked, Haim, ‘The Biographies of ‘Ulamâ’ in Mabârak's Khitat as a Source for the History of the ‘Ulamâ’ in Nineteenth-century Egypt’, in Baer, op. cit. pp. 61–2.Google Scholar

^{page 219 note 1} Brown, Kenneth, ‘Profile of a Nineteenth-century Moroccan Scholar’, in Keddie, Scholars, Saints, and Sufis, pp. 132–5.Google Scholar

^{page 219 note 2} Ibid. pp. 135–9.

^{page 219 note 3} Marsot, , ‘The Ulama of Cairo in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries’, p. 156.Google Scholar

^{page 219 note 4} Chambers, op. cit. pp. 33–4;Google Scholar cf. Repp, Richard, ‘Some Observations on the Development of the Ottoman Learned Hierarchy’, in Keddie, p. 31.Google Scholar

^{page 220 note 1} Ma'oz, op. cit. p. 77;Google Scholar cf. Marsot, ‘The Ulama of Cairo in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries’, passim;Google Scholar and Shaked, op. cit. pp. 59–60.Google Scholar

^{page 220 note 2} Heyd, op. cit. p. 72;Google Scholar cf. Levy, op. cit. p. 14;Google Scholar and Chambers, op. cit. pp. 33–4.Google Scholar

^{page 220 note 3} Levy; op. cit. p. 38;Google Scholar cf. Heyd, op. cit. passim.Google Scholar

^{page 220 note 4} Ma'oz, op. cit. pp. 83–4.Google Scholar

^{page 221 note 1} Algar, op. cit. p. 236;Google Scholar and Burke, ‘The Moroccan Ulama, 1860–1912’, pp. 112–13.Google Scholar

^{page 221 note 2} Marsot, ‘The Ulama of Cairo in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries’, passim.Google Scholar

^{page 221 note 3} Bureaucratization usually meant bringing ulama under greater control of the central government by eliminating some of their independent powers. For example, in Morocco the Qadi of Fez, called qâdî al-jâmi' (qadi of the Muslim community) and recognized as Morocco's chief judicial officer, traditionally appointed all other qadis. After the death of 'Abd Allah Ibn Khadra in 1906, however, his successor was not called qâdî al-jâmi' but rather was given a new title: nâ'ib al-makhzan fî ahkâm al-sharî'a (representative of the government for shari'a judgments) and the right to appoint other qadis was preempted by the Sultan. See Burke, ‘The Moroccan Ulama, 1860– 1912’, pp. 107–8.Google Scholar

^{page 221 note 4} Chambers, op. cit. pp. 33–6;Google ScholarShaked, op. cit. pp. 58–72;Google Scholar and Crecelius, op. cit. passim.Google Scholar

^{page 221 note 5} Lewis, Bernard, ‘The Study of Islam’, Encounter, 38, i (01 1972), 31.Google Scholar

^{page 222 note 1} Crecelius, op. cit. p. 175.Google Scholar

^{page 222 note 2} Loutfi el Sayed [Marsot], ‘The Role of the ‘Ulamâ’ in Egypt during the Early Nineteenth Century’, p. 273;Google Scholar cf. Crecelius, op. cit. pp. 176–7.Google Scholar

^{page 222 note 3} Brown, op. cit. p. 139.Google Scholar

^{page 222 note 4} Loutfi el Sayed [Marsot], ‘The Role of the ‘Ulamâ’ in Egypt during the Early Nineteenth Century’, p. 274–5;Google Scholar cf. Crecelius, op. cit. pp. 177–9.Google Scholar

^{page 223 note 1} Levy, op. cit., passim.Google Scholar

^{page 223 note 2} Burke, ‘The Moroccan Ulama, 1860–1912’, pp. 113–14.Google Scholar

^{page 223 note 3} Loutfi el Sayed [Marsot], ‘The Role of the ‘Ulamâ’ in Egypt during the Early Nineteenth Century’, p. 270;Google Scholar cf. Crecelius, op. cit. pp. 173.Google Scholar

^{page 223 note 4} Voll, op. cit., passim (the quotation is from p. 217);Google Scholar and Warburg, op. cit. passim.Google Scholar

^{page 223 note 5} ‘Le clergé musulman n'a, en Algérie, personne à sa tête’, wrote Rinn in 1884. ‘Il y a peut-être là une lacune dans notre organisation politique algérienne, et il est, à notre humble avis, regrettable que nous n'ayons pas institué, dès le début, un cheikh-el-Islam, chef suprême de la religion musulmane en Algérie. Ce personnage, qui eût été notre créature, autait contribué à isoler les Musulmans algériens de leurs frères d'Orient’ (Rinn, Louis-Marie, Marabouts et khouan: étude sur l'Islam en Algérie [Algiers: Jourdan, 1884], p. 8).Google Scholar

^{page 224 note 1} See von Sivers, Peter, ‘The Realm of Justice: Apocalyptic Revolts in Algeria, 1849–79’, Humaniora Islamica, 1 (1973), 47–60.Google Scholar

^{page 224 note 2} Abun-Nasr, Jamil, The Tijaniyya: A Sufi Order in the Modern World (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1965), passim.Google Scholar

^{page 224 note 3} Abun-Nasr, Jamil, ‘The Salafiyya Movement in Morocco: The Religious Basis of the Moroccan Nationalist Movement’, St. Antony's Papers, 16 (1963), 90–105;Google ScholarMerad, Ali, Le réformisme musulman en Algérie de 1925 à 1940: Essai d'histoire religieuse et sociale (Paris: Mouton, 1967);Google Scholar Pessah Shinar, ‘The Historical Approach of the Reformist ‘Ulamâ’ in the Contemporary Maghrib’, in Baer, op. cit. pp. 181–210;Google Scholar and Brown, Leon Carl, ‘The Islamic Reformist Movement in North Africa’, Journal of Modern African Studies, 11 (1964), 55–63.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

^{page 225 note 1} One might expect a country to be most like its neighbors, yet as we shall see it was the other Maghribi states which frequently provided the greatest contrasts to Tunisia.Google Scholar

^{page 225 note 2} Halstead, John P., ‘A Comparative Historical Study of Colonial Nationalism in Egypt and Morocco’, African Historical Studies, 2 (1969), 85–100.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

^{page 226 note 1} See Brown, Leon Carl, The Tunisia of Ahmad Bey, 1837–1855 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1974).Google Scholar

^{page 226 note 2} al-Diyâf, Ahmad Ibn Abî (hereafter Bin Diyaf), Ithâf ahl al-zamân bî akhbâr tûnis wa 'ahd al-amân, 8 vols. (Tunis: Ministry of Culture, 1963–1966), IV, 65–9.Google Scholar

^{page 226 note 3} Ibid. IV, 86–7.

^{page 226 note 4} Called le pacte fondamental by the French, 'ahd al-amân was inspired by the Ottoman Hatt-i şerif of Gülhane (1839). It was a simple declaration to the effect that the Government promised to implement reforms in certain areas. See Bin Diyaf, op. cit. Iv, 245–60.Google Scholar

^{page 227 note 1} Ibid. IV, 259.

^{page 227 note 2} Ibid. V, 32 ff.

^{page 227 note 3} See Smida, Mongi, Khéredine: Ministre réformateur (Tunis: Maison Tunisienne de l'Edition, 1971);Google Scholar and Mzali, M. S. and Pignon, Jean, eds., Khéredine, homme d'état: Mémoires (Tunis: Maison Tunisienne de l'Edition, 1971).Google Scholar

^{page 227 note 4} See Brown, Leon Carl, The Surest Path: The Political Treatise of a Nineteenth-Century Muslim Statesman (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1967), a translation of Khayr al-Din's Aqwam al-masâlik li-ma'rifat ahwâl al-mamâlik.Google Scholar

^{page 227 note 5} This was accomplished by transferring the bulk of the responsibilities of the nizâra (The Zaytuna Mosque's supervisory board composed of the Hanafi Shaykh al-Islam, the Maliki Bash Mufti, and the two Qadis) to two deputy supervisors who were appointed by the Prime Minister.Google Scholar

^{page 227 note 6} Several provincial towns (e.g. Kairouan, Sfax, Sousse, Le Kef, etc.) had their own shari'a majlis, consisting of one qadi and up to four muftis.Google Scholar

^{page 227 note 7} Each rite had its own tribunal in Tunis (all provincial shari's courts were Maliki). Europeans frequently complained about the difficulty of dealing with two separate legal traditions.Google Scholar

^{page 228 note 1} In the preface to his translation of a work on military theory by Baron de Jomni (d. 1869), Qabâdû postulated as early as the 1840s that the greatness of medieval Muslim civilization was due to its cultivation of certain mathematical and medical sciences the subsequent neglect of which led to the decline and present backward state of Islamic countries. Meanwhile, he said, the Europeans borrowed from the Muslims these ‘universal sciences’ (al-'ulûm al-kawnîya) and upon them built a progressive culture. Qabâdû thus justified translating a European work into Arabic as an effort to recover this anciently possessed knowledge for Islam. Qab^acirc;dû had a certain influence on Khayr al-Din when the latter was a student at the military academy, as pointed out by Demeerseman, André, ‘Un grand témoin des premières idées modernisantes en Tunisie’, Ibla, 19, 76 (1956), 349–73.Google Scholar See also Zmerli, M. S., Figures tunisiennes, Vol. 1: Les précurseurs (Algiers: Bouslama, 1964), pp. 71–80;Google Scholaral-Sanûsî, Zayn al-'Abidîn, ‘Ajâ'ib wa shudhûdhât qabâdû’, al-Fikr, 7, 10 (07 1962), 28–32,Google Scholar and ‘'Izdiwâj al-shakhşîya fî shâ'ir tûnis: qabâdû’, Mahmûd, al-Fikr, 8, I (10. 1962), 12–15;Google Scholar and 'Ashûr, Muhammad al-Fâdil Ibn, Arkân al-nahda al-adabîya bi-tiûnis (Tunis: Maison Tunisienne de l'Edition, 1954), pp. 5–10.Google Scholar

^{page 229 note 1} The historical trend was toward reserving religious posts in Tunis for Tunis-born shaykhs. Of 74 ulama mentioned by Bin Diyaf who spent their careers in Tunis between 1814 and 1872, 20 (27 percent) were of provincial birth. [See Leon Carl Brown, ‘The Religious Establishment in Husaynid Tunisia’, in Keddie, Scholars, Saints, and Sufis, p. 56.] While of the shaykhs who entered the ulama corps of Tunis between 1900 and 1914, only 2 (7 percent) were not born in Tunis.Google Scholar

^{page 230 note 1} Of the 30 ulama to hold three religious positions (mudarris, qadi or mufti, and imam) simultaneously during the 1873–1914 period, only a (Sâlim Bû hâjib and ′Umar Ibn al-Shaykh) were afâqîs, while 20 were Sons of ulama. On the other hand, the humblest ulama were those who served only as mudarris. The 23 shaykhs in that category included 12 (of 16 possible) afâqîs and only 4 (of 59 possible) sons of ulama.Google Scholar

^{page 230 note 2} See p. 218. It is perhaps significant that Nefta-born Muhammad al-Khidr Ibn al-husayn, discouraged at his failure to be advanced beyond the rank of second-class professor at the Zaytuna Mosque, emigrated in 1914 to Cairo where he subsequently became Shaykh al-Azhar.Google Scholar

^{page 230 note 3} These include Muhammad Bayram V (Tunis), Ahmad al-Wartatânî (Le Kef), Ahmad Ibn al-Khûja (Tunis), 'Umar Ibn al-Shaykh (Ras el Djebel), Sâlim Bû hâjib (Benbla near Monastir), and Muştafâ Radwân (Sousse).Google Scholar

^{page 231 note 1} Hanafi ulama existed only in Tunis so that all afâqî ulama were Malikis. The urban-provincial rivalry was therefore a Maliki phenomenon, and it was the Tunis-based Maliki families who were trying to consolidate their position in the religious establishment against newcomers from the provinces.Google Scholar

^{page 231 note 2} As previously mentioned, Muhammad Bayram V aided Khayr al-Din in the composition of Aqwam aI-masâlik, served as President of the Awqâf Administration, sat on the commission which created Sadiqi College, and managed the official government press. Bayram also performed a number of diplomatic missions to Muslim and European countries. His book, şafwat al-i'tibar bi-mustawda' al-amşâr wa al-aqtâr, 5 vols. (Cairo, 1884 and 1893),Google Scholar furnishes evidence that Europe's impact on Bayram was no less than it was on Khayr al-Din. See al-Sanûsî, Zayn al-'Abidîn, Muhammad bayram al-khâmis (Tunis, 1952);Google ScholarZmerli, , Figures tunisiennes, vol. 1: Les précurseurs, pp. 93–103;Google Scholar and 'Ashûr, al-Fâdil Ibn, Arkân al-nahda, pp. 21–5.Google Scholar

^{page 231 note 3} al-Khuja, Ahmad Ibn (d. 5895) served on the Court of Appeals, wrote a taqrîz in support of Aqwam al-masâlik, sat on the commission which created Sadiqi College, and participated in the judicial reform commission. His fatwâs (legal opinions) answered in the affirmative such questions as whether Muslims could associate with Christians and whether Midhat Pasha could choose non-Muslim delegates to sit in the Ottoman Parliament. Of his numerous essays, al-Şub h al-mubîn ‘an ma’rûdât khayr al-dîn provided a theological sanction for Khayr al-Din's reforms and Kashf al-lithâm ′an mahâsin al-islâm argued that Islam was conducive to progress and compatible with modern civilization.Google Scholar

^{page 232 note 1} Broadley, Alexander M., The Last Punic War: Tunis, Past and Present, with a Narrative of the French Conquest of the Regency, 2 vols. (London: Blackwood, 1882), I, 305–6, 317.Google Scholar

^{page 232 note 2} Yahya, Ibn was an active member of the Rahmaniya Order, while Ali al-Habib was both shaykh of the local Qadiriya zâwiya and a member of the Sanusiya Order. (Correspondence in Archives Générales Tunisiennes [hereafter AGT], series B, carton 15, dossier a [hereafter B-15–2]; and interview of author with A;li al-Habib's descendant, Hadj Mohammed Tahar [Gabes, Dec. 1971].) Both men were of tribal origins, moreover, and the other major rebel leaders were Ali Ibn Khalifa, ′âmil (governor) of the Naffât tribe near Sfax, and Ali Ibn Ammar, Shaykh of the Zlass (Jalâş) tribe near Kairouan.Google Scholar

^{page 232 note 3} ‘Al-bayt al-nayfarî’, Taqwîm al-dhahabî al-tûnisî, A.H. 1357, pp. 353–6; correspondence between Mahammad al-Nayfar and Prime Minister Bû ′Attûr, sha'abân 1301, Archives du Ministère de la Justice Tunisienne (hereafter AMJT), dossier 140; and interview of author with Cheikh Ali Naifer (Turns, 18 May 1971).Google Scholar

^{page 232 note 4} One writer has attributed Ibn Salih's action to his disagreements with other members of the Maliki shari'a majlis. 'Ashûr, Al-Fâdil Ibn, Tarâjim al-a'lâm (Tunis: Maison Tunisienne de l'Edition, 1970), pp. 76–7.Google Scholar

^{page 233 note 1} Bayram, Muhammad V emigrated to Egypt in 1879; Muhammad al-Sanusi left on a pilgrimage in 1881, intending to remain in the East, but he returned to Tunisia in 1883; al-Makki Ibn 'Azzuz emigrated to Istanbul about 1889; Muhammad al-Sammati emigrated to Tripoli in 1893; Hanafi Qadi of Tunis Ismail al-Safa'ihi emigrated to Istanbul in 1905; Salih al-Sharif emigrated to Damascus in 1906; and Muhammad al-Khidr Ibn al-Husayn emigrated to Istanbul (then to Cairo) in 1914.Google Scholar

^{page 233 note 2} See Ganiage, Jean, ‘Une affaire tunisienne, l'affaire de l'Enfida’, Revue Africaine, 99 (1955), 341–78;Google Scholar and Rey, Albert, Mémoire sur l'affaire de l'Enfida (Paris: Imprimerie centrale des chemins de fer, 1881).Google Scholar

^{page 233 note 3} See a note from Machuel, to La Revue Pédagogique, 2 (1885), 46.Google Scholar

^{page 233 note 4} In proposing for the post of deputy inspector Shaykh Muhammad al-Qurtubi, a mudarris who also served in the ‘Direction de l'Enseignement Public’ as ‘Inspecteur des Etudes Arabes’, Machuel made it clear that he wanted ‘quelqu’un qui peut me renseigner exactement sur ce qui se passe dans la faculté musulmane qui a échappé jusqu′à ce jour à mon action directe’ (Machuel to Deputy Resident General Regnault, 13 March 1885; AGT E–260–4).Google Scholar

^{page 233 note 5} This law introduced the concept of land registration — compulsory for Europeans and optional for Tunisians — and was based on the Torrens Act, used by the British as a land policy in Australia. The Mixed Property Court included two Tunisian judges (usually ulama) and two French judges, with one of the latter serving as president. See Soulmagnon, Georges, La loi tunisienne du 1^er juillet 1885 sur la propriété et le régime des livresfonciers (Paris: Sirey, 1933).Google Scholar

^{page 234 note 1} Although in their own eyes the pre-1881 reformers advocated the introduction of Western institutions largely as a means of strengthening Tunisia in order to prevent or render unnecessary direct European intervention, they were nevertheless accused by anti-reformists of having paved the way for the French occupation. Modern ‘radical’ historians are also inclined to view the Westernizing reformers in this way. See Laroui, Abdallah, L'histoire du Maghreb: Essai de synthèse (Paris: Maspèro, 1970), p. 293.Google Scholar

^{page 234 note 2} The ulama in question were: Shaykh al-Islam Ahmad Ibn al-Khuja, Bash Mufti al-Shadhili Ibn Salih, Hanaft Qadi Mahmud Bayram, and Maliki Qadi al-Tahir I alNayfar. See Pontois, Honoré, Les odeurs de Tunis (Paris: Savine, 1889), pp. 178–9. Pontois, a French judge and a member of the land law commission, wrote this book as a diatribe against Cambon whom he accused of Arabophilia. As a rule Pontois is not a reliable source, but his account of this incident is probably more accurate than that of Cambon (who claimed that the ulama fully supported the land law) because it is consistent with ulama attitudes toward related issues and it is substantiated by family traditions (interview of author with Cheikh Ali Naifer [Tunis, 6 May 1971]).Google Scholar

^{page 234 note 3} The names of the sixteen commission members (including twelve ulama) can be found in al-Khûja, Mahammad Ibn, Ta'rîkh ma'âlim al-tawhîd fî al-qadîm wa fî al-jadîd (Tunis, 1937), pp. 53–4. The commission's reports: AGT E–262–3.Google Scholar

^{page 234 note 4} In Egypt such pre-World War I movements as the Urabi rebellion, the pan-Islamism of Afghani and ′Abduh, and al-Hizb al-watani have often been given a nationalist coloration. See al-Sayyid, Afaf Lutfi, Egypt and Cromer: A Study in Anglo-Egyptian Relations (London: Murray, 1968).Google Scholar

^{page 235 note 1} Documentation on this society is rather meager. The only contemporary source that discusses it at length is Mahammad al-Sanusi's al-Rişla al-hijâzîya (ms., now being edited for publication by Sami Hanna). In a letter written from Tunis to Afghani in Paris, ‘Abduh intimated that he fabricated the existence of a worldwide Islamic secret society in order to maximize the Tunisians’ will to donate money (see Keddie, Sayyid Jamâl ad-Dîn ‘al-Afghânî’, p. 227).Google Scholar The branch in Tunis nevertheless appears to have been genuine. See Chenoufi, Moncef, ‘Les deux séjours de Muhammad ‘Abduh en Tunisie’, Les Cahiers de Tunisie, 16 (1968), 57–96.Google Scholar

^{page 235 note 2} Despite the petition's explicit denial of any intent to criticize the French, the protectorate authorities regarded the demonstration as having flouted their authority. Shaykh Mahammad al-Sanusi, the petition's author, and Shaykh Ahmad al-Wartatani were consequently interned at Gabes for several months (see Mahammad al-Sanusi, Khulaşat al-nâzila al-tûnisîya [ms., soon to be published by Maison Tunisienne de l'Edition]). Al-Wartatani died in 1885 but al-Sanusi (d. 1900) thereafter adopted a policy of cooperation with the French. In 1887 he authored a book in favor of the land law and he was one of the first Tunisians named to the Mixed Property Court.Google Scholar

^{page 235 note 3} 'Ashûr, Muhammad al-Fâdil Ibn, al-haraka al-adabîya wa al-fikriya fî tûnis (Cairo, 1955), p. 45.Google Scholar

^{page 235 note 4} Appearing in August 1888, al-Hâdira was Tunisia's first newspaper, excepting the official gazette. Edited by 'Alî Bû Shûsha, a young graduate of Sadiqi College, it drew the support of moderate reformists willing to cooperate with the administration.Google Scholar

^{page 235 note 5} The Khalduniya Society, staffed largely by the editorial group of al-Hâdira, was organized to disseminate modern sciences via a program of night school courses and public conferences. In one sense, it was intended to be an annex to the Zaytuna Mosque so that students could supplement their narrow theological education (see Amar, Emile, ‘La Khaldouniyya: Une universit musulmane en Tunisie’, Revue du Monde Musulman, 1 [1907], 352–63).Google Scholar

^{page 236 note 1} Amar attributed the idea for al-Khalduniya to a French military officer, Lt.-Col. Rebillet (Ibid. p. 353). In a private correspondence to Charlety, dated 17 March 1908, Machue! credited Rebillet with suggesting the organization of Sadiqi graduates into a proadministration group, but claimed for himself the honor of conceiving al-Khalduniya (Archives du Ministére de l'Education Nationale (Tunis), collection labeled Mjl).Google Scholar

^{page 236 note 2} In 1896 Roy recalled to Millet the key role that Qadiri Shaykh Kaddur al-Mizuni played in the peaceful surrender of Le Kef to the French in 1881. ‘Son example a été suivi par tous les autres mokaddems kadria de la Tunisie,’ he added. Roy then advocated that the relatives of zâwiya shaykhs be exempted from taxation as a means of making popular religious leaders supporters of French policy (Roy to Millet, 18 May 1896; AGT E–19–2). Millet conducted a survey on the influence of the brotherhoods (the results of which are found in AGT D–97–3), but a ‘politique des confréries’ was not instituted in Tunisia as it was in Morocco and Algeria.Google Scholar

^{page 236 note 3} One of the two sons of ulama was Muhammad b. Mustafa Radwan, while the artisan's son was Isma'il al-Safa'ihi, whose father was a blacksmith.Google Scholar

^{page 236 note 4} Yet more than once the French lobbied for the appointment of a shaykh to a key position only to find ‘their man’ uncooperative once in office. The best example of this was al-Safa'ihi, who directed the normal school for mu'addibs and sat on Sadiqi College's Administrative Council. When the post of Hanafi Qadi became vacant in 1895, Machuel sent the following recommendation to the Secretary-General: ‘Si Essafaihi est un professeur instruit et entièrement dévoué à la cause française’ (AGTM E–550–30/15 no. 881). From the same dossier, a note dated 14 February 1921 (after al-Safa'ihi's emigration to Istanbul where he engaged in anti-French propaganda during the war) discusses the aftermath: ‘Ismail Sfaihi, qui avait fait preuve de loyalisme jusqu’à l'époque de sa nomination au poste de Cadi de Tunis, adopta une attitude entiérement different des qu'il eût obtenu ces fonctions: il abandonna les relations cordiales qu'il entretenait avec l'administration supérieure, affectua une indépendance absolue envers les pouvoirs publics et ne manqua aucune occasion de manifester avec prudence ses sentiments hostiles contre le Protectorat.’Google Scholar

^{page 237 note 1} Berkes, op. cit. p. 243.Google Scholar

^{page 237 note 2} It has been suggested that even the Destour Party fell short of being a genuine nationalist movement and that for this Tunisia had to await the emergence of the Neo-Destour Party in 1933–4 (see Duvignaud, Jean, ‘Esquisse d'une sociologie du nationalisme tunisien’, in Duclos, M., Duvignaud, J., and Leca, A.-P., Les Nationalismes maghrébins [Paris, 1966], pp. 83–98).Google Scholar

^{page 237 note 3} As their name implies, the Young Tunisians patterned themselves to an extent after the Young Turks (see Khairallah, Chedly, Le inouvement jeune-tunisien: Essai d'histoire et de synthése des mouvements nationalistes tunisiens [Tunis: Bonici, 1957] as well as a forthcoming dissertation on the Young Tunisians by Stuart Brown [McGill University, Montreal]).Google Scholar

^{page 238 note 1} The idea of the Tunisian nationalist movement developing by stages has been elaborated by Brown, L. C. in ‘Stages in the Process of Change’, in Micaud, Charles Antoine, Brown, Leon Carl, and Moore, Clement Henry, Tunisia: The Politics of Modernization (London, 1964), pp. 3–66.Google Scholar

^{page 238 note 2} For a detailed analysis of French colonization policy in Tunisia, see MohamedHadi Fakoussa, ‘Le fonctionnement du Protectorat en Tunisie après Paul Cambon’ (Mémoire de Diplome d'Etudes supérieures d'Histoire, Faculté de Lettres, Université de Paris, 1958);Google Scholar see also Macken, Richard A., ‘The Indigenous Reaction to the French Protectorate in Tunisia, 1881–1900’ (Princeton University, 1972).Google Scholar

^{page 238 note 3} The colon party wanted only vocational training for Tunisians; they accused Machuel of giving suck to potential agitators by providing a liberal education which they alleged Arab-Muslim students were not equipped to handle.Google Scholar

^{page 239 note 1} Recently returned from Egypt, al-Tha′alibi began to express radical Salifiya views – e.g. that all Sufi orders were heretical innovations and that the Qur'an should be reinterpreted in a modem context. In 1903, at a trial initiated by the shari'a magistrates, al-Tha'alibi was convicted of having ‘outraged’ the Islamic religion. After serving a short prison term, he co-authored L'esprit libéral du Coran (Paris: Leroux, 1905).Google Scholar

^{page 239 note 2} For example, during the strike of Zaytuna students in 1910, which the Young Tunisians encouraged and the ulama opposed, the militant journalists frequently accused the religious leaders of being both negligent and incompetent.Google Scholar

^{page 239 note 3} See Fakoussa, op. cit. passim,Google Scholar and de Montéty, Henri, ‘Vieilles families et nouvelle elite en Tunisie’, in Documents sur l'évolution du monde musulman, no. 3 (8 08. 1940). Since 1881 the French had cultivated the prominent political families, but shortly before World War I they began for political purposes also to court the leading religious families. It is perhaps significant that about 1907 for the first time a few urban Maliki ulama (e.g. Muhammad b. al-Tayyib al-Nayfar and al-Tahir Ibn ′Ashur) joined the small group of reformists.Google Scholar

^{page 239 note 4} During World War I such Tunisian emigrants to Istanbul as Shaykhs al-Makki Ibn ′Azzuz, Isma'il al-Safa'ihi, Salih al-Sharif, and Muhammad al-Khidr Ibn alHusayn participated in the German-sponsored Committee for Algerian and Tunisian Independence. They made speeches and wrote pamphlets calling on North African Muslims to revolt against French rule.Google Scholar

^{page 240 note 1} See footnote 4 on previous page.Google Scholar

^{page 240 note 2} The development of the thinking of al-Tha'alibi, who emerged in 1920 as the leader of the Destour Party, was to a degree representative of the transformation from the Hâdira-Khaldûnîya group (al-Tha'alibi as author of L'esprit liberal du Coran) to the Young Tunisians (al-Tha'alibi as editor of al-Tûnisî) and then to the Destour Party (al-Tha'alibi as author of La Tunisie martyre [Paris, 1920], a nationalist manifesto which glorified traditional Islamic civilization and attributed the ills of Tunisian society to French misrule).Google Scholar

^{page 240 note 3} For example, there was rather a furor among the ulama over the publication of al-Haddad's, al-TahirImra'atuna fî al-sharî'a wa al-mujtama’ (Tunis, 1930), which expounded a radical view of the role of women in Islamic society. At least two ulama penned refutations which were supported even by those shaykhs reputed to be sympathetic to reforms. By contrast, the failure of the ulama to object to the burial in a Muslim cemetery of a Tunisian who had accepted French nationality allowed the nationalists to raise the religious issue and thereby discredit the ulama on their home ground.Google Scholar

^{page 241 note 1} During the 1930s there did develop a Tunisian counterpart to the Algerian Association of Reformist Ulama, Jam'îyat al-muhâfada wa ta'lîm al-qur'n fî tunis, under Shaykh ‘Abd al-’Azîz al-Bâwandî. This society was banned by the protectorate regime in 1935 and thereafter operated in secret (see Zawadowski, G., ‘Situation de l'Islam dans Ia Tunisie d'entre deux guerres (1918–1939)’, En Terre d'Islam [Lyon], 7 (1943), pp. 78–100). A good deal more research needs to be done on this Tunisian neo-orthodox movement as well as on ulama activities generally during the 1918–56 period. Some of this existing void may be filled by the forthcoming thèse de doctorat of Tewfik Baccar on intellectual movements in Tunisia after World War I.Google Scholar