LIFE IN MOROCCO

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

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THE MOORS: an Account of People and Customs. With 132 Illustrations.

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Some Moorish Characteristics—The Mohammedan Year (Feasts and Fasts)—Places of Worship—Alms, Hospitality, and Pilgrimage—Education—Saints and Superstitions—Marriage—Funeral Rites.

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Descriptions and Histories of Tangier, Tetuan, Laraiche, Salli-Rabat, Dar el Baida, Mazagan, Saffi and Mogador; Azîla, Fedála, Mehedia, Mansûrîya, Azammûr and Waladîya; Fez, Mequinez and Marrákesh; Zarhôn, Wazzán and Shesháwan; El Kasar, Sifrû, Tadla, Damnát, Táza, Dibdû and Oojda; Ceuta, Velez, Alhucemas, Melilla and the Zaffarines; Sûs, the Draa, Tafilált, Fîgîg, and Tûát.

Reminiscences of Travel—In the Guise of a Moor—To Marrákesh on a Bicycle—In Search of Miltsin.

THE MOORISH EMPIRE: A Historical Epitome. With Maps, 118 Illustrations, and a unique Chronological, Geographical, and Genealogical Chart.

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Europeans in the Moorish Service—The Salli Rovers—Record of the Christian Slaves—Christian Influences in Morocco—Foreign Relations—Moorish Diplomatic Usages—Foreign Rights and Privileges—Commercial Intercourse—The Fate of the Empire.

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IN ARABIC CHARACTERS

MOROCCO-ARABIC DIALOGUES,

OR

DIÁLOGOS EN ARABE MAROQUÍ.

By C.W. Baldwin.

London: BERNARD QUARITCH, PICCADILLY.

Tangier: BRITISH AND FOREIGN BIBLE SOCIETY'S DEPÔT.

LIFE IN MOROCCO

AND GLIMPSES BEYOND

BY

BUDGETT MEAKIN

AUTHOR OF

"THE MOORS," "THE LAND OF THE MOORS," "THE MOORISH EMPIRE,"

"MODEL FACTORIES AND VILLAGES," ETC.

WITH TWENTY-FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS

LONDON

CHATTO & WINDUS

1905

PRINTED BY

WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,

LONDON AND BECCLES.

[page v]

FOREWORD

Which of us has yet forgotten that first day when we set foot in Barbary? Those first impressions, as the gorgeous East with all its countless sounds and colours, forms and odours, burst upon us; mingled pleasures and disgusts, all new, undreamed-of, or our wildest dreams enhanced! Those yelling, struggling crowds of boatmen, porters, donkey-boys; guides, thieves, and busy-bodies; clad in mingled finery and tatters; European, native, nondescript; a weird, incongruous medley—such as is always produced when East meets West—how they did astonish and amuse us! How we laughed (some trembling inwardly) and then, what letters we wrote home!

One-and-twenty years have passed since that experience entranced the present writer, and although he has repeated it as far as possible in practically every other oriental country, each fresh visit to Morocco brings back somewhat of the glamour of that maiden plunge, and somewhat of that youthful ardour, as the old associations are renewed. Nothing he has seen elsewhere excels Morocco in point of life and colour save Bokhára; and[page vi] only in certain parts of India or in China is it rivalled. Algeria, Tunisia and Tripoli have lost much of that charm under Turkish or western rule; Egypt still more markedly so, while Palestine is of a population altogether mixed and heterogeneous. The bazaars of Damascus, even, and Constantinople, have given way to plate-glass, and nothing remains in the nearer East to rival Morocco.

Notwithstanding the disturbed condition of much of the country, nothing has occurred to interfere with the pleasure certain to be afforded by a visit to Morocco at any time, and all who can do so are strongly recommended to include it in an early holiday. The best months are from September to May, though the heat on the coast is never too great for an enjoyable trip. The simplest way of accomplishing this is by one of Messrs. Forwood's regular steamers from London, calling at most of the Morocco ports and returning by the Canaries, the tour occupying about a month, though it may be broken and resumed at any point. Tangier may be reached direct from Liverpool by the Papayanni Line, or indirectly viâ Gibraltar, subsequent movements being decided by weather and local sailings. British consular officials, missionaries, and merchants will be found at the various ports, who always welcome considerate strangers.

Comparatively few, even of the ever-increasing number of visitors who year after year bring this only remaining independent Barbary State within[page vii] the scope of their pilgrimage, are aware of the interest with which it teems for the scientist, the explorer, the historian, and students of human nature in general. One needs to dive beneath the surface, to live on the spot in touch with the people, to fathom the real Morocco, and in this it is doubtful whether any foreigners not connected by ties of creed or marriage ever completely succeed. What can be done short of this the writer attempted to do, mingling with the people as one of themselves whenever this was possible. Inspired by the example of Lane in his description of the "Modern Egyptians," he essayed to do as much for the Moors, and during eighteen years he laboured to that end.

The present volume gathers together from many quarters sketches drawn under those circumstances, supplemented by a resumé of recent events and the political outlook, together with three chapters—viii., xi., and xiv.—contributed by his wife, whose assistance throughout its preparation he has once more to acknowledge with pleasure. To many correspondents in Morocco he is also indebted for much valuable up-to-date information on current affairs, but as most for various reasons prefer to remain unmentioned, it would be invidious to name any. For most of the illustrations, too, he desires to express his hearty thanks to the gentlemen who have permitted him to reproduce their photographs.

Much of the material used has already appeared[page viii] in more fugitive form in the Times of Morocco, the London Quarterly Review, the Forum, the Westminster Review, Harper's Magazine, the Humanitarian, the Gentleman's Magazine, the Independent (New York), the Modern Church, the Jewish Chronicle, Good Health, the Medical Missionary, the Pall Mall Gazette, the Westminster Gazette, the Outlook, etc., while Chapters ix., xix., and xxv. to xxix. have been extracted from a still unpublished picture of Moorish country life, "Sons of Ishmael."

B.M.

Hampstead,
November 1905.

[page ix]

CONTENTS

PART I

PART II

PART III

APPENDIX

[page xi]

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Note.—The system of transliterating Arabic adopted by the Author in his previous works has here been followed only so far as it is likely to be adopted by others than specialists, all signs being omitted which are not essential to approximate pronunciation.

[page 1]

LIFE IN MOROCCO

PART I

I

RETROSPECTIVE

"The firmament turns, and times are changing."

Moorish Proverb.

By the western gate of the Mediterranean, where the narrowed sea has so often tempted invaders, the decrepit Moorish Empire has become itself a bait for those who once feared it. Yet so far Morocco remains untouched, save where a fringe of Europeans on the coast purvey the luxuries from other lands that Moorish tastes demand, and in exchange take produce that would otherwise be hardly worth the raising. Even here the foreign influence is purely superficial, failing to affect the lives of the people; while the towns in which Europeans reside are so few in number that whatever influence they do possess is limited in area. Moreover, Morocco has never known foreign dominion, not even that of the Turks, who have left their impress on the neighbouring Algeria and Tunisia. None but the Arabs have succeeded in obtaining a foothold among its Berbers, and they, restricted to the plains, have long become part of [page 2] the nation. Thus Morocco, of all the North African kingdoms, has always maintained its independence, and in spite of changes all round, continues to live its own picturesque life.

Picturesque it certainly is, with its flowing costumes and primitive homes, both of which vary in style from district to district, but all of which seem as though they must have been unchanged for thousands of years. Without security for life or property, the mountaineers go armed, they dwell in fortresses or walled-in villages, and are at constant war with one another. On the plains, except in the vicinity of towns, the country people group their huts around the fortress of their governor, within which they can shelter themselves and their possessions in time of war. No other permanent erection is to be seen on the plains, unless it be some wayside shrine which has outlived the ruin fallen on the settlement to which it once belonged, and is respected by the conquerors as holy ground. Here and there gaunt ruins rise, vast crumbling walls of concrete which have once been fortresses, lending an air of desolation to the scene, but offering no attraction to historian or antiquary. No one even knows their names, and they contain no monuments. If ever more solid remains are encountered, they are invariably set down as the work of the Romans.

Yet Morocco has a history, an interesting history indeed, one linked with ours in many curious ways, as is recorded in scores of little-known volumes. It has a literature amazingly voluminous, but there were days when the relations with other lands were much closer, if less cordial, the days of the crusades and the Barbary pirates, the days of European[page 3] tribute to the Moors, and the days of Christian slavery in Morocco. Constantly appearing brochures in many tongues made Europe of those days acquainted with the horrors of that dreadful land. All these only served to augment the fear in which its people were held, and to deter the victimized nations from taking action which would speedily have put an end to it all, by demonstrating the inherent weakness of the Moorish Empire.

But for those whose study is only the Moors as they exist to-day, the story of Morocco stretches back only a thousand years, as until then its scattered tribes of Berber mountaineers had acknowledged no head, and knew no common interests; they were not a nation. War was their pastime; it is so now to a great extent. Every man for himself, every tribe for itself. Idolatry, of which abundant traces still remain, had in places been tinged with the name and some of the forms of Christianity, but to what extent it is now impossible to discover. In the Roman Church there still exist titular bishops of North Africa, one, in particular, derives his title from the district of Morocco of which Fez is now the capital, Mauretania Tingitana.

It was among these tribes that a pioneer mission of Islám penetrated in the eighth of our centuries. Arabs were then greater strangers in Barbary than we are now, but they were by no means the first strange faces seen there. Phœnicians, Romans and Vandals had preceded them, but none had stayed, none had succeeded in amalgamating with the Berbers, among whom those individuals who did remain were absorbed. These hardy clansmen,[page 4] exhibiting the characteristics of hill-folk the world round, still inhabited the uplands and retained their independence. In this they have indeed succeeded to a great extent until the present day, but between that time and this they have given of their life-blood to build up by their side a less pure nation of the plains, whose language as well as its creed is that of Arabia.

To imagine that Morocco was invaded by a Muslim host who carried all before them is a great mistake, although a common one. Mulai Idrees—"My Lord Enoch" in English—a direct descendant of Mohammed, was among the first of the Arabian missionaries to arrive, with one or two faithful adherents, exiles fleeing from the Khalîfa of Mekka. So soon as he had induced one tribe to accept his doctrines, he assisted them with his advice and prestige in their combats with hereditary enemies, to whom, however, the novel terms were offered of fraternal union with the victors, if they would accept the creed of which they had become the champions. Thus a new element was introduced into the Berber polity, the element of combination, for the lack of which they had always been weak before. Each additional ally meant an augmentation of the strength of the new party out of all proportion to the losses from occasional defeats.

In course of time the Mohammedan coalition became so strong that it was in a position to dictate terms and to impose governors upon the most obstinate of its neighbours. The effect of this was to divide the allies into two important sections, the older of which founded Fez in the days of the son[page 5] of Idrees, accounted the second ameer of that name, who there lies buried in the most important mosque of the Empire, the very approaches of which are closed to the Jew and the Nazarene. The only spot which excels it in sanctity is that at Zarhôn, a day's journey off, in which the first Idrees lies buried. There the whole town is forbidden to the foreigner, and an attempt made by the writer to gain admittance in disguise was frustrated by discovery at the very gate, though later on he visited the shrine in Fez. The dynasty thus formed, the Shurfà Idreeseeïn, is represented to-day by the Shareef of Wazzán.

In southern Morocco, with its capital at Aghmát, on the Atlas slopes, was formed what later grew to be the kingdom of Marrákesh, the city of that name being founded in the middle of the eleventh century. Towards the close of the thirteenth, the kingdoms of Fez and Marrákesh became united under one ruler, whose successor, after numerous dynastic changes, is the Sultan of Morocco now.[^*]

But from the time that the united Berbers had become a nation, to prevent them falling out among themselves again it was necessary to find some one else to fight, to occupy the martial instinct nursed in fighting one another. So long as there were ancient scores to be wiped out at home, so long as under cover of a missionary zeal they could continue intertribal feuds, things went well for the victors; but as soon as excuses for this grew scarce, it was needful to fare afield. The pretty story—told,[page 6] by the way, of other warriors as well—of the Arab leader charging the Atlantic surf, and weeping that the world should end there, and his conquests too, may be but fiction, but it illustrates a fact. Had Europe lain further off, the very causes which had conspired to raise a central power in Morocco would have sufficed to split it up again. This, however, was not to be. In full view of the most northern strip of Morocco, from Ceuta to Cape Spartel, the north-west corner of Africa, stretches the coast of sunny Spain. Between El K'sar es-Sagheer, "The Little Castle," and Tarifa Point is only a distance of nine or ten miles, and in that southern atmosphere the glinting houses may be seen across the straits.

History has it that internal dissensions at the Court of Spain led to the Moors being actually invited over; but that inducement was hardly needed. Here was a country of infidels yet to be conquered; here was indeed a land of promise. Soon the Berbers swarmed across, and in spite of reverses, carried all before them. Spain was then almost as much divided into petty states as their land had been till the Arabs taught them better, and little by little they made their way in a country destined to be theirs for five hundred years. Córdova, Sevílle, Granáda, each in turn became their capital, and rivalled Fez across the sea.

The successes they achieved attracted from the East adventurers and merchants, while by wise administration literature and science were encouraged, till the Berber Empire of Spain and Morocco took a foremost rank among the nations of the day. Judged from the standpoint of their time, they seem to us a[page 7] prodigy; judged from our standpoint, they were but little in advance of their descendants of the twentieth century, who, after all, have by no means retrograded, as they are supposed to have done, though they certainly came to a standstill, and have suffered all the evils of four centuries of torpor and stagnation. Civilization wrought on them the effects that it too often produces, and with refinement came weakness. The sole remaining state of those which the invaders, finding independent, conquered one by one, is the little Pyrenean Republic of Andorra, still enjoying privileges granted to it for its brave defence against the Moors, which made it the high-water mark of their dominion. As peace once more split up the Berbers, the subjected Spaniards became strong by union, till at length the death-knell of Moorish rule in Europe sounded at the nuptials of the famous Ferdinand and Isabella, linking Aragon with proud Castile.

Expelled from Spain, the Moor long cherished plans for the recovery of what had been lost, preparing fleets and armies for the purpose, but in vain. Though nominally still united, his people lacked that zeal in a common cause which had carried them across the straits before, and by degrees the attempts to recover a kingdom dwindled into continued attacks upon shipping and coast towns. Thus arose that piracy which was for several centuries the scourge of Christendom. Further east a distinct race of pirates flourished, including Turks and Greeks and ruffians from every shore, but they were not Moors, of whom the Salli rover was the type. Many thousands of Europeans were carried off by Moorish corsairs into slavery, including not[page 8] a few from England. Those who renounced their own religion and nationality, accepting those of their captors, became all but free, only being prevented from leaving the country, and often rose to important positions. Those who had the courage of their convictions suffered much, being treated like cattle, or worse, but they could be ransomed when their price was forthcoming—a privilege abandoned by the renegades—so that the principal object of every European embassy in those days was the redemption of captives. Now and then escapes would be accomplished, but such strict watch was kept when foreign merchantmen were in port, or when foreign ambassadors came and went, that few attempts succeeded, though many were made.

Sympathies are stirred by pictures of the martyrdom of Englishmen and Irishmen, Franciscan missionaries to the Moors; and side by side with them the foreign mercenaries in the native service, Englishmen among them, who would fight in any cause for pay and plunder, even though their masters held their countrymen in thrall. And thrall it was, as that of Israel in Egypt, when our sailors were chained to galley seats beneath the lash of a Moor, or when they toiled beneath a broiling sun erecting the grim palace walls of concrete which still stand as witnesses of those fell days. Bought and sold in the market like cattle, Europeans were more despised than Negroes, who at least acknowledged Mohammed as their prophet, and accepted their lot without attempt to escape.

Dark days were those for the honour of Europe, when the Moors inspired terror from the Balearics to the Scilly Isles, and when their rovers swept the[page 9] seas with such effect that all the powers of Christendom were fain to pay them tribute. Large sums of money, too, collected at church doors and by the sale of indulgences, were conveyed by the hands of intrepid friars, noble men who risked all to relieve those slaves who had maintained their faith, having scorned to accept a measure of freedom as the reward of apostasy. Thousands of English and other European slaves were liberated through the assistance of friendly letters from Royal hands, as when the proud Queen Bess addressed Ahmad II., surnamed "the Golden," as "Our Brother after the Law of Crown and Sceptre," or when Queen Anne exchanged compliments with the bloodthirsty Ismáïl, who ventured to ask for the hand of a daughter of Louis XIV.

In the midst of it all, when that wonderful man, with a household exceeding Solomon's, and several hundred children, had reigned forty-three of his fifty-five years, the English, in 1684, ceded to him their possession of Tangier. For twenty-two years the "Castle in the streights' mouth," as General Monk had described it, had been the scene of as disastrous an attempt at colonization as we have ever known: misunderstanding of the circumstances and mismanagement throughout; oppression, peculation and terror within as well as without; a constant warfare with incompetent or corrupt officials within as with besieging Moors without; till at last the place had to be abandoned in disgust, and the expensive mole and fortifications were destroyed lest others might seize what we could not hold.

Such events could only lower the prestige of [page 10] Europeans, if, indeed, they possessed any, in the eyes of the Moors, and the slaves up country received worse treatment than before. Even the ambassadors and consuls of friendly powers were treated with indignities beyond belief. Some were imprisoned on the flimsiest pretexts, all had to appear before the monarch in the most abject manner, and many were constrained to bribe the favourite wives of the ameers to secure their requests. It is still the custom for the state reception to take place in an open courtyard, the ambassador standing bareheaded before the mounted Sultan under his Imperial parasol. As late as 1790 the brutal Sultan El Yazeed, who emulated Ismáïl the Bloodthirsty, did not hesitate to declare war on all Christendom except England, agreeing to terms of peace on the basis of tribute. Cooperation between the Powers was not then thought of, and one by one they struck their bargains as they are doing again to-day.

Yet even at the most violent period of Moorish misrule it is a remarkable fact that Europeans were allowed to settle and trade in the Empire, in all probability as little molested there as they would have been had they remained at home, by varying religious tests and changing governments. It is almost impossible to conceive, without a perusal of the literature of the period, the incongruity of the position. Foreign slaves would be employed in gangs outside the dwellings of free fellow-countrymen with whom they were forbidden to communicate, while every returning pirate captain added to the number of the captives, sometimes bringing friends and relatives of those who lived in[page 11] freedom as the Sultan's "guests," though he considered himself "at war" with their Governments. So little did the Moors understand the position of things abroad, that at one time they made war upon Gibraltar, while expressing the warmest friendship for England, who then possessed it. This was done by Mulai Abd Allah V., in 1756, because, he said, the Governor had helped his rebel uncle at Arzîla, so that the English, his so-called friends, did more harm than his enemies—the Portuguese and Spaniards. "My father and I believe," wrote his son, Sidi Mohammed, to Admiral Pawkers, "that the king your master has no knowledge of the behaviour towards us of the Governor of Gibraltar, ... so Gibraltar shall be excluded from the peace to which I am willing to consent between England and us, and with the aid of the Almighty God, I will know how to avenge myself as I may on the English of Gibraltar."

Previously Spain and Portugal had held the principal Moroccan seaports, the twin towns of Rabat and Salli alone remaining always Moorish, but these two in their turn set up a sort of independent republic, nourished from the Berber tribes in the mountains to the south of them. No Europeans live in Salli yet, for here the old fanaticism slumbers still. So long as a port remained in foreign hands it was completely cut off from the surrounding country, and played no part in Moorish history, save as a base for periodical incursions. One by one most of them fell again into the hands of their rightful owners, till they had recovered all their Atlantic sea-board. On the Mediterranean, Ceuta, which had belonged to Portugal, came under[page 12] the rule of Spain when those countries were united, and the Spaniards hold it still, as they do less important positions further east.

The piracy days of the Moors have long passed, but they only ceased at the last moment they could do so with grace, before the introduction of steamships. There was not, at the best of times, much of the noble or heroic in their raids, which generally took the nature of lying in wait with well-armed, many-oared vessels, for unarmed, unwieldy merchantmen which were becalmed, or were outpaced by sail and oar together.

Early in the nineteenth century Algiers was forced to abandon piracy before Lord Exmouth's guns, and soon after the Moors were given to understand that it could no longer be permitted to them either, since the Moorish "fleets"—if worthy the name—had grown so weak, and those of the Nazarenes so strong, that the tables were turned. Yet for many years more the nations of Europe continued the tribute wherewith the rapacity of the Moors was appeased, and to the United States belongs the honour of first refusing this disgraceful payment.

The manner in which the rovers of Salli and other ports were permitted to flourish so long can be explained in no other way than by the supposition that they were regarded as a sort of necessary nuisance, just a hornet's-nest by the wayside, which it would be hopeless to destroy, as they would merely swarm elsewhere. And then we must remember that the Moors were not the only pirates of those days, and that Europeans have to answer for the most terrible deeds of the[page 13] Mediterranean corsairs. News did not travel then as it does now. Though students of Morocco history are amazed at the frequent captures and the thousands of Christian slaves so imported, abroad it was only here and there that one was heard of at a time.

To-day the plunder of an Italian sailing vessel aground on their shore, or the fate of too-confident Spanish smugglers running close in with arms, is heard of the world round. And in the majority of cases there is at least a question: What were the victims doing there? Not that this in any way excuses the so-called "piracy," but it must not be forgotten in considering the question. Almost all these tribes in the troublous districts carry European arms, instead of the more picturesque native flint-lock: and as not a single gun is legally permitted to pass the customs, there must be a considerable inlet somewhere, for prices are not high.

[*] For a complete outline of Moorish history, see the writer's "Moorish Empire."

[page 14]

II

THE PRESENT DAY

"What has passed has gone, and what is to come is distant; Thou hast only the hour in which thou art."

Moorish Proverb.

Far from being, as Hood described them, "poor rejected Moors who raised our childish fears," the people of Morocco consist of fine, open races, capable of anything, but literally rotting in one of the finest countries of the world. The Moorish remains in Spain, as well as the pages of history, testify to the manner in which they once flourished, but to-day their appearance is that of a nation asleep. Yet great strides towards reform have been made during the past century, and each decade sees steps taken more important than the last. For the present decade is promised complete transformation.

But how little do we know of this people! The very name "Moor" is a European invention, unknown in Morocco, where no more precise definition of the inhabitants can be given than that of "Westerners"—Maghribîn, while the land itself is known as "The Further West"—El Moghreb el Aksa. The name we give to the country is but a corruption of that of the southern capital, Marrákesh ("Morocco City") through the Spanish version, Marueccos.

[page 15]

The genuine Moroccans are the Berbers among whom the Arabs introduced Islám and its civilization, later bringing Negroes from their raids across the Atlas to the Sudán and Guinea. The remaining important section of the people are Jews of two classes—those settled in the country from prehistoric times, and those driven to it when expelled from Spain. With the exception of the Arabs and the Blacks, none of these pull together, and in that case it is only because the latter are either subservient to the former, or incorporated with them.

First in importance come the earliest known possessors of the land, the Berbers. These are not confined to Morocco, but still hold the rocky fastnesses which stretch from the Atlantic, opposite the Canaries, to the borders of Egypt; from the sands of the Mediterranean to those of the Sáhara, that vast extent of territory to which we have given their name, Barbary. Of these but a small proportion really amalgamated with their Muslim victors, and it is only to this mixed race which occupies the cities of Morocco that the name "Moor" is strictly applicable.

On the plains are to be found the Arabs, their tents scattered in every direction. From the Atlantic to the Atlas, from Tangier to Mogador, and then away through the fertile province of Sûs, one of the chief features of Morocco is the series of wide alluvial treeless plains, often apparently as flat as a table, but here and there cut up by winding rivers and crossed by low ridges. The fertility of these districts is remarkable; but owing to the misgovernment of the country, which renders native[page 16] property so insecure, only a small portion is cultivated. The untilled slopes which border the plains are generally selected by the Arabs for their encampments, circles or ovals of low goat-hair tents, each covering a large area in proportion to the number of its inhabitants.

The third section of the people of Morocco—by no means the least important—has still to be glanced at; these are the ubiquitous, persecuted and persecuting Jews. Everywhere that money changes hands and there is business to be done they are to be found. In the towns and among the thatched huts of the plains, even in the Berber villages on the slopes of the Atlas, they have their colonies. With the exception of a few ports wherein European rule in past centuries has destroyed the boundaries, they are obliged to live in their own restricted quarters, and in most instances are only permitted to cross the town barefooted and on foot, never to ride a horse. In the Atlas they live in separate villages adjoining or close to those belonging to the Berbers, and sometimes even larger than they. Always clad in black or dark-coloured cloaks, with hideous black skull-caps or white-spotted blue kerchiefs on their heads, they are conspicuous everywhere. They address the Moors with a villainous, cringing look which makes the sons of Ishmael savage, for they know it is only feigned. In return they are treated like dogs, and cordial hatred exists on both sides. So they live, together yet divided; the Jew despised but indispensable, bullied but thriving. He only wins at law when richer than his opponent; against a Muslim he can bear no testimony; there is scant pretence at justice. He[page 17] dares not lift his hand to strike a Moor, however ill-treated, but he finds revenge in sucking his life's blood by usury. Receiving no mercy, he shows none, and once in his clutches, his prey is fortunate to escape with his life.

The happy influence of more enlightened European Jews is, however, making itself felt in the chief towns, through excellent schools supported from London and Paris, which are turning out a class of highly respectable citizens. While the Moors fear the tide of advancing westernization, the town Jews court it, and in them centres one of the chief prospects of the country's welfare. Into their hands has already been gathered much of the trade of Morocco, and there can be little doubt that, by the end of the thirty years' grace afforded to other merchants than the French, they will have practically absorbed it all, even the Frenchmen trading through them. They have at least the intimate knowledge of the people and local conditions to which so few foreigners ever attain.

When the Moorish Empire comes to be pacifically penetrated and systematically explored, it will probably be found that little more is known of it than of China, notwithstanding its proximity, and its comparatively insignificant size. A map honestly drawn, from observations only, would astonish most people by its vast blank spaces.[^*] It would be noted that the limit of European exploration—with the exception of the work of two or three hardy travellers in disguise—is less than two hundred miles from the coast, and that this limit[page 18] is reached at two points only—south of Fez and Marrákesh respectively,—which form the apices of two well-known triangular districts, the contiguous bases of which form part of the Atlantic coast line, under four hundred miles in length. Beyond these limits all is practically unknown, the language, customs and beliefs of the people providing abundant ground for speculation, and permitting theorists free play. So much is this the case, that a few years ago an enthusiastic "savant" was able to imagine that he had discovered a hidden race of dwarfs beyond the Atlas, and to obtain credence for his "find" among the best-informed students of Europe.

But there is also another point of view from which Morocco is unknown, that of native thought and feeling, penetrated by extremely few Europeans, even when they mingle freely with the people, and converse with them in Arabic. The real Moor is little known by foreigners, a very small number of whom mix with the better classes. Some, as officials, meet officials, but get little below the official exterior. Those who know most seldom speak, their positions or their occupations preventing the expression of their opinions. Sweeping statements about Morocco may therefore be received with reserve, and dogmatic assertions with caution. This Empire is in no worse condition now than it has been for centuries; indeed, it is much better off than ever since its palmy days, and there is no occasion whatever to fear its collapse.

Few facts are more striking in the study of Morocco than the absolute stagnation of its people, except in so far as they have been to a very limited extent affected by outside influences. Of what[page 19] European—or even oriental—land could descriptions of life and manners written in the sixteenth century apply as fully in the twentieth as do those of Morocco by Leo Africanus? Or even to come later, compare the transitions England has undergone since Höst and Jackson wrote a hundred years ago, with the changes discoverable in Morocco since that time. The people of Morocco remain the same, and their more primitive customs are those of far earlier ages, of the time when their ancestors lived upon the plain of Palestine and North Arabia, and when "in the loins of Abraham" the now unfriendly Jew and Arab were yet one. It is the position of Europeans among them which has changed.

In the time of Höst and Jackson piracy was dying hard, restrained by tribute from all the Powers of Europe. The foreign merchant was not only tolerated, but was at times supplied with capital by the Moorish sultans, to whom he was allowed to go deeply in debt for custom's dues, and half a century later the British Consul at Mogador was not permitted to embark to escape a bombardment of the town, because of his debt to the Sultan. Many of the restrictions complained of to-day are the outcome of the almost enslaved condition of the merchants of those times in consequence of such customs. Indeed, the position of the European in Morocco is still a series of anomalies, and so it is likely to continue until it passes under foreign rule.

The same old spirit of independence reigns in the Berber breast to-day as when he conquered Spain, and though he has forgotten his past and cares naught for his future, he still considers himself a superior being, and feels that no country can rival[page 20] his home. In his eyes the embassies from Europe and America come only to pay the tribute which is the price of peace with his lord, and when he sees a foreign minister in all his black and gold stand in the sun bareheaded to address the mounted Sultan beneath his parasol, he feels more proud than ever of his greatness, and is more decided to be pleasant to the stranger, but to keep him out.

Instead of increased relations between Moors and foreigners tending to friendship, the average foreign settler or tourist is far too bigoted and narrow-minded to see any good in the native, much less to acknowledge his superiority on certain points. Wherever the Sultan's authority is recognized the European is free to travel and live, though past experience has led officials not to welcome him. At the same time, he remains entirely under the jurisdiction of his own authorities, except in cases of murder or grave crime, when he must be at once handed over to the nearest consul of his country. Not only are he and his household thus protected, but also his native employees, and, to a certain extent, his commercial and agricultural agents.

Thus foreigners in Morocco enjoy within the limits of the central power the security of their own lands, and the justice of their own laws. They do not even find in Morocco that immunity from justice which some ignorant writers of fiction have supposed; for unless a foreigner abandons his own nationality and creed, and buries himself in the interior under a native name, he cannot escape the writs of foreign courts. In any case, the Moorish authorities will arrest him on demand, and hand him over to his consul to be dealt with according to law. The[page 21] colony of refugees which has been pictured by imaginative raconteurs is therefore non-existent. Instead there are growing colonies of business men, officials, missionaries, and a few retired residents, quite above the average of such colonies in the Levant, for instance.

For many years past, though the actual business done has shown a fairly steady increase, the commercial outlook in Morocco has gone from bad to worse. Yet more of its products are now exported, and there are more European articles in demand, than were thought of twenty years ago. This anomalous and almost paradoxical condition is due to the increase of competition and the increasing weakness of the Government. Men who had hope a few years ago, now struggle on because they have staked too much to be able to leave for more promising fields. This has been especially the case since the late Sultan's death. The disturbances which followed that event impoverished many tribes, and left behind a sense of uncertainty and dread. No European Bourse is more readily or lastingly affected by local political troubles than the general trade of a land like Morocco, in which men live so much from hand to mouth.

It is a noteworthy feature of Moorish diplomatic history that to the Moors' love of foreign trade we owe almost every step that has led to our present relations with the Empire. Even while their rovers were the terror of our merchantmen, as has been pointed out, foreign traders were permitted to reside in their ports, the facilities granted to them forming the basis of all subsequent negotiations. Now that concession after concession has been wrung from[page 22] their unwilling Government, and in spite of freedom of residence, travel, and trade in the most important parts of the Empire, it is disheartening to see the foreign merchant in a worse condition than ever.

The previous generation, fewer in number, enjoying far less privileges, and subjected to restrictions and indignities that would not be suffered to-day, were able to make their fortunes and retire, while their successors find it hard to hold their own. The "hundred tonners" who, in the palmy days of Mogador, were wont to boast that they shipped no smaller quantities at once, are a dream of the past. The ostrich feathers and elephants' tusks no longer find their way out by that port, and little gold now passes in or out. Merchant princes will never be seen here again; commercial travellers from Germany are found in the interior, and quality, as well as price, has been reduced to its lowest ebb.

A crowd of petty trading agents has arisen with no capital to speak of, yet claiming and abusing credit, of which a most ruinous system prevails, and that in a land in which the collection of debts is proverbially difficult, and oftentimes impossible. The native Jews, who were interpreters and brokers years ago, have now learned the business and entered the lists. These new competitors content themselves with infinitesimal profits, or none at all in cases where the desideratum is cash to lend out at so many hundreds per cent. per annum. Indeed, it is no uncommon practice for goods bought on long credit to be sold below cost price for this purpose. Against such methods who can compete?

Yet this is a rich, undeveloped land—not exactly[page 23] an El Dorado, though certainly as full of promise as any so styled has proved to be when reached—favoured physically and geographically, but politically stagnant, cursed with an effete administration, fettered by a decrepit creed. In view of this situation, it is no wonder that from time to time specious schemes appear and disappear with clockwork regularity. Now it is in England, now in France, that a gambling public is found to hazard the cost of proving the impossibility of opening the country with a rush, and the worthlessness of so-called concessions and monopolies granted by sheïkhs in the south, who, however they may chafe under existing rule which forbids them ports of their own, possess none of the powers required to treat with foreigners.

As normal trade has waned in Morocco, busy minds have not been slow in devising illicit, or at least unusual, methods of making money, even, one regrets to say, of making false money. Among the drawbacks suffered by the commerce which pines under the shade of the shareefian umbrella, one—and that far from the least—is the unsatisfactory coinage, which till a few years ago was almost entirely foreign. To have to depend in so important a matter on any mint abroad is bad enough, but for that mint to be Spanish means much. Centuries ago the Moors coined more, but with the exception of a horrible token of infinitesimal value called "floos," the products of their extinct mints are only to be found in the hands of collectors, in buried hoards, or among the jewellery displayed at home by Mooresses and Jewesses, whose fortunes, so invested, may not be seized for debt. Some[page 24] of the older issues are thin and square, with well-preserved inscriptions, and of these a fine collection—mostly gold—may be seen at the British Museum; but the majority, closely resembling those of India and Persia, are rudely stamped and unmilled, not even round, but thick, and of fairly good metal. The "floos" referred to (sing. "fils") are of three sizes, coarsely struck in zinc rendered hard and yellow by the addition of a little copper. The smallest, now rarely met with, runs about 19,500 to £1 when this is worth 32½ Spanish pesetas; the other two, still the only small change of the country, are respectively double and quadruple its value. The next coin in general circulation is worth 2d., so the inconvenience is great. A few years ago, however, Europeans resident in Tangier resolutely introduced among themselves the Spanish ten and five céntimo pieces, corresponding to our 1d. and ½d., which are now in free local use, but are not accepted up-country.

What passes as Moorish money to-day has been coined in France for many years, more recently also in Germany; the former is especially neat, but the latter lacks style. The denominations coincide with those of Spain, whose fluctuations in value they closely follow at a respectful distance. This autumn the "Hasáni" coin—that of Mulai el Hasan, the late Sultan—has fallen to fifty per cent. discount on Spanish. With the usual perversity also, the common standard "peseta," in which small bargains are struck on the coast, was omitted, the nearest coin, the quarter-dollar, being nominally worth ptas. 1.25. It was only after a decade, too, that the Government put in circulation the dollars struck in France,[page 25] which had hitherto been laid up in the treasury as a reserve. And side by side with the German issue came abundant counterfeit coins, against which Government warnings were published, to the serious disadvantage of the legal issue. Even the Spanish copper has its rival, and a Frenchman was once detected trying to bring in a nominal four hundred dollars' worth of an imitation, which he promptly threw overboard when the port guards raised objections to its quality.

The increasing need of silver currency inland, owing to its free use in the manufacture of trinkets, necessitates a constant importation, and till recently all sorts of coins, discarded elsewhere, were in circulation. This was the case especially with French, Swiss, Belgian, Italian, Greek, Roumanian, and other pieces of the value of twenty céntimos, known here by the Turkish name "gursh," which were accepted freely in Central Morocco, but not in the north. Twenty years ago Spanish Carolus, Isabella and Philippine shillings and kindred coins were in use all over the country, and when they were withdrawn from circulation in Spain they were freely shipped here, till the country was flooded with them. When the merchants and customs at last refused them, their astute importers took them back at a discount, putting them into circulation later at what they could, only to repeat the transaction. In Morocco everything a man can be induced to take is legal tender, and for bribes and religious offerings all things pass, this practice being an easier matter than at first sight appears; so in the course of a few years one saw a whole series of coins in vogue,[page 26] one after the other, the main transactions taking place on the coast with country Moors, than whom, though none more suspicious, none are more easily gulled.

A much more serious obstacle to inland trade is the periodically disturbed state of the country, not so much the local struggles and uprisings which serve to free superfluous energy, as the regular administrative expeditions of the Moorish Court, or of considerable bodies of troops. These used to take place in some direction every year, "the time when kings go forth to war" being early summer, just when agricultural operations are in full swing, and every man is needed on his fields. In one district the ranks of the workers are depleted by a form of conscription or "harka," and in another these unfortunates are employed preventing others doing what they should be doing at home. Thus all suffer, and those who are not themselves engaged in the campaign are forced to contribute cash, if only to find substitutes to take their places in the ranks.

The movement of the Moorish Court means the transportation of a numerous host at tremendous expense, which has eventually to be recouped in the shape of regular contributions, arrears of taxes and fines, collected en route, so the pace is abnormally slow. Not only is there an absolute absence of roads, and, with one or two exceptions, of bridges, but the Sultan himself, with all his army, cannot take the direct route between his most important inland cities without fighting his way. The configuration of the empire explains its previous sub-division into the kingdoms of Fez, Marrákesh,[page 27] Tafilált and Sûs, and the Reef, for between the plains of each run mountain ranges which have never known absolute "foreign" rulers.

To European engineers the passes through these closed districts would offer no great obstacles in the construction of roads such as thread the Himalayas, but the Moors do not wish for the roads; for, while what the Government fears to promote thereby is combination, the actual occupants of the mountains, the native Berbers, desire not to see the Arab tax-gatherers, only tolerating their presence as long as they cannot help it, and then rising against them.

Often a tribe will be left for several years to enjoy independence, while the slip-shod army of the Sultan is engaged elsewhere. When its turn comes it holds out for terms, since it has no hope of successfully confronting such an overwhelming force as is sooner or later brought against it. The usual custom is to send small detachments of soldiers to the support of the over-grasping functionaries, and when they have been worsted, to send down an army to "eat up" the province, burning villages, deporting cattle, ill-treating the women, and often carrying home children as slaves. The men of the district probably flee and leave their homes to be ransacked. They content themselves with hiding behind crags which seem to the plainsmen inaccessible, whence they can in safety harass the troops on the march. After more or less protracted skirmishing, the country having been devastated by the troops, who care only for the booty, women will be sent into the camp to make terms, or one of the shareefs or religious nobles who accompany the army is sent out to treat with the rebels. The terms are usually[page 28] hard—so much arrears of tribute in cash and kind, so much as a fine for expenses, so many hostages. Then hostages and prisoners are driven to the capital in chains, and pickled heads are exposed on the gateways, imperial letters being read in the chief mosques throughout the country, telling of a glorious victory, and calling for rejoicings. To any other people the short spell of freedom would have been too dearly bought for the experiment to be repeated, but as soon as they begin to chafe again beneath the lawless rule of Moorish officials, the Berbers rebel once more. It has been going on thus for hundreds of years, and will continue till put an end to by France.

In Morocco each official preys upon the one below him, and on all others within his reach, till the poor oppressed and helpless villager lives in terror of them all, not daring to display signs of prosperity for fear of tempting plunder. Merit is no key to positions of trust and authority, and few have such sufficient salary attached to render them attractive to honest men. The holders are expected in most cases to make a living out of the pickings, and are allowed an unquestioned run of office till they are presumed to have amassed enough to make it worth while treating them as they have treated others, when they are called to account and relentlessly "squeezed." The only means of staving off the fatal day is by frequent presents to those above them, wrung from those below. A large proportion of Moorish officials end their days in disgrace, if not in dungeons, and some meet their end by being invited to corrosive sublimate tea, a favourite beverage in Morocco—for others. Yet there is[page 29] always a demand for office, and large prices are paid for posts affording opportunities for plunder.

The Moorish financial system is of a piece with this method. When the budget is made out, each tribe or district is assessed at the utmost it is believed capable of yielding, and the candidate for its governorship who undertakes to get most out of it probably has the task allotted to him. His first duty is to repeat on a small scale the operation of the Government, informing himself minutely as to the resources under his jurisdiction, and assessing the sub-divisions so as to bring in enough for himself, and to provide against contingencies, in addition to the sum for which he is responsible. The local sheïkhs or head-men similarly apportion their demands among the individuals entrusted to their tender mercy. A fool is said to have once presented the Sultan with a bowl of skimmed and watered milk, and on being remonstrated with, to have declared that His Majesty received no more from any one, as his wazeers and governors ate half the revenue cream each, and the sheïkhs drank half the revenue milk. The fool was right.

The richer a man is, the less proportion he will have to pay, for he can make it so agreeable—or disagreeable—for those entrusted with a little brief authority. It is the struggling poor who have to pay or go to prison, even if to pay they have to sell their means of subsistence. Three courses lie before this final victim—to obtain the protection of some influential name, native or foreign, to buy a "friend at court," or to enter Nazarene service. But native friends are uncertain and hard to find, and, above all, they may be alienated by a higher[page 30] bid from a rival or from a rapacious official. Such affairs are of common occurrence, and harrowing tales might be told of homes broken up in this way, of tortures inflicted, and of lives spent in dungeons because display has been indulged in, or because an independent position has been assumed under cover of a protection that has failed. But what can one expect with such a standard of honour?

Foreigners, on the other hand, seldom betray their protégés—although, to their shame be it mentioned, some in high places have done so,—wherefore their protection is in greater demand; besides which it is more effectual, as coming from outside, while no Moor, however well placed, is absolutely secure in his own position. Thus it is that the down-trodden natives desire and are willing to pay for protection in proportion to their means; and it is this power of dispensing protection which, though often abused, does more than anything else to raise the prestige of the foreigner, and in turn to protect him.

The claims most frequently made against Moors by foreign countries are for debt, claims which afford the greatest scope for controversy and the widest loophole for abuse. Although, unfortunately, for the greater part usurious, a fair proportion are for goods delivered, but to evade the laws even loan receipts are made out as for goods to be delivered, a form in which discrimination is extremely difficult. The condition of the country, in which every man is liable to be arrested, thrashed, imprisoned, if not tortured, to extort from him his wealth, is such as furnishes the usurer with crowding clients; and the condition of things among the Indian cultivators,[page 31] bad as it is, since they can at least turn to a fair-handed Government, is not to be compared to that of the down-trodden Moorish farmer.

The assumption by the Government of responsibility for the debts of its subjects, or at all events its undertaking to see that they pay, is part of the patriarchal system in force, by which the family is made responsible for individuals, the tribe for families, and so on. No other system would bring offenders to justice without police; but it transforms each man into his brother's keeper. This, however, does not apply only to debts the collection of which is urged upon the Government, for whom it is sufficient to produce the debtor and let him prove absolute poverty for him to be released, with the claim cancelled. This in theory: but in practice, to appease these claims, however just, innocent men are often thrown into prison, and untold horrors are suffered, in spite of all the efforts of foreign ministers to counteract the injustice.

A mere recital of tales which have come under my own observation would but harrow my readers' feelings to no purpose, and many would appear incredible. With the harpies of the Government at their heels, men borrow wildly for a month or two at cent. per cent., and as the Moorish law prohibits interest, a document is sworn to before notaries by which the borrower declares that he has that day taken in hard cash the full amount to be repaid, the value of certain crops or produce of which he undertakes delivery upon a certain date. Very seldom, indeed, does it happen that by that date the money can be repaid, and generally the[page 32] only terms offered for an extension of time for another three or six months are the addition of another fifty or one hundred per cent. to the debt, always fully secured on property, or by the bonds of property holders. Were not this thing of everyday occurrence in Morocco, and had I not examined scores of such papers, the way in which the ignorant Moors fall into such traps would seem incredible. It is usual to blame the Jews for it all, and though the business lies mostly in their hands, it must not be overlooked that many foreigners engage in it, and, though indirectly, some Moors also.

But besides such claims, there is a large proportion of just business debts which need to be enforced. It does not matter how fair a claim may be, or how legitimate, it is very rarely that trouble is not experienced in pressing it. The Moorish Courts are so venal, so degraded, that it is more often the unscrupulous usurer who wins his case and applies the screw, than the honest trader. Here lies the rub. Another class of claims is for damage done, loss suffered, or compensation for imaginary wrongs. All these together mount up, and a newly appointed minister or consul-general is aghast at the list which awaits him. He probably contents himself at first with asking for the appointment of a commission to examine and report on the legality of all these claims, and for the immediate settlement of those approved. But he asks and is promised in vain, till at last he obtains the moral support of war-ships, in view of which the Moorish Government most likely pays much more than it would have got off with at first, and then proceeds to victimize the debtors.

[page 33]

It is with expressed threats of bombardment that the ships come, but experience has taught the Moorish Government that it is well not to let things go that length, and they now invariably settle amicably. To our western notions it may seem strange that whatever questions have to be attended to should not be put out of hand without requiring such a demonstration; but while there is sleep there is hope for an Oriental, and the rulers of Morocco would hardly be Moors if they resisted the temptation to procrastinate, for who knows what may happen while they delay? And then there is always the chance of driving a bargain, so dear to the Moorish heart, for the wazeer knows full well that although the Nazarene may be prepared to bombard, as he has done from time to time, he is no more desirous than the Sultan that such an extreme measure should be necessary.

So, even when things come to the pinch, and the exasperated representative of Christendom talks hotly of withdrawing, hauling down his flag and giving hostile orders, there is time at least to make an offer, or to promise everything in words. And when all is over, claims paid, ships gone, compliments and presents passed, nothing really serious has happened, just the everyday scene on the market applied to the nation, while the Moorish Government has once more given proof of worldly wisdom, and endorsed the proverb that discretion is the better part of valour.

An illustration of the high-handed way in which things are done in Morocco has but recently been afforded by the action of France regarding an alleged Algerian subject arrested by the Moorish[page 34] authorities for conspiracy. The man, Boo Zîan Miliáni by name, was the son of one of those Algerians who, when their country was conquered by the French, preferred exile to submission, and migrated to Morocco, where they became naturalized. He was charged with supporting the so-called "pretender" in the Reef province, where he was arrested with two others early in August last. His particular offence appears to have been the reading of the "Rogi's" proclamations to the public, and inciting them to rebel against the Sultan. But when brought a prisoner to Tangier, and thence despatched to Fez, he claimed French citizenship, and the Minister of France, then at Court, demanded his release.

This being refused, a peremptory note followed, with a threat to break off diplomatic negotiations if the demand were not forthwith complied with. The usual communiqués were made to the Press, whereby a chorus was produced setting forth the insult to France, the imminence of war, and the general gravity of the situation. Many alarming head-lines were provided for the evening papers, and extra copies were doubtless sold. In Morocco, however, not only the English and Spanish papers, but also the French one, admitted that the action of France was wrong, though the ultimate issue was never in doubt, and the man's release was a foregone conclusion. Elsewhere the rights of the matter would have been sifted, and submitted at least to the law-courts, if not to arbitration.

While the infliction of this indignity was stirring up northern Morocco, the south was greatly exercised by the presence on the coast of a French[page 35] vessel, L'Aigle, officers from which proceeded ostentatiously to survey the fortifications of Mogador and its island, and then effected a landing on the latter by night. Naturally the coastguards fired at them, fortunately without causing damage, but had any been killed, Europe would have rung with the "outrage." From Mogador the vessel proceeded after a stay of a month to Agadir, the first port of Sûs, closed to Europeans.

Here its landing-party was met on the beach by some hundreds of armed men, whose commander resolutely forbade them to land, so they had to retire. Had they not done so, who would answer for the consequences? As it was, the natives, eager to attack the "invaders," were with difficulty kept in hand, and one false step would undoubtedly have led to serious bloodshed. Of course this was a dreadful rebuff for "pacific penetration," but the matter was kept quiet as a little premature, since in Europe the coast is not quite clear enough yet for retributory measures. The effect, however, on the Moors, among whom the affair grew more grave each time it was recited, was out of all proportion to the real importance of the incident, which otherwise might have passed unnoticed.

[*] An approximation to this is given in the writer's "Land of the Moors."

[page 36]

III

BEHIND THE SCENES

"He knows of every vice an ounce."

Moorish Proverb.

Though most eastern lands may be described as slip-shod, with reference both to the feet of their inhabitants and to the way in which things are done, there can be no country in the world more aptly described by that epithet than Morocco. One of the first things which strikes the visitor to this country is the universality of the slipper as foot-gear, at least, so far as the Moors are concerned. In the majority of cases the men wear the heels of their slippers folded down under the feet, only putting them up when necessity compels them to run, which they take care shall not be too often, as they much prefer a sort of ambling gait, best compared to that of their mules, or to that of an English tramp.

Nothing delights them better as a means of agreeably spending an hour or two, than squatting on their heels in the streets or on some door-stoop, gazing at the passers-by, exchanging compliments with their acquaintances. Native "swells" consequently promenade with a piece of felt under their arms on which to sit when they wish, in[page 37] addition to its doing duty as a carpet for prayer. The most public places, and usually the cool of the afternoon, are preferred for this pastime.

The ladies of their Jewish neighbours also like to sit at their doors in groups at the same hour, or in the doorways of main thoroughfares on moonlight evenings, while the gentlemen, who prefer to do their gossiping afoot, roam up and down. But this is somewhat apart from the point of the lazy tendencies of the Moors. With them—since they have no trains to catch, and disdain punctuality—all hurry is undignified, and one could as easily imagine an elegantly dressed Moorish scribe literally flying as running, even on the most urgent errand. "Why run," they ask, "when you might just as well walk? Why walk, when standing would do? Why stand, when sitting is so much less fatiguing? Why sit, when lying down gives so much more rest? And why, lying down, keep your eyes open?"

In truth, this is a country in which things are left pretty much to look after themselves. Nothing is done that can be left undone, and everything is postponed until "to-morrow." Slipper-slapper go the people, and slipper-slapper goes their policy. If you can get through a duty by only half doing it, by all means do so, is the generally accepted rule of life. In anything you have done for you by a Moor, you are almost sure to discover that he has "scamped" some part; perhaps the most important. This, of course, means doing a good deal yourself, if you like things done well, a maxim holding good everywhere, indeed, but especially here.

The Moorish Government's way of doing things—or rather, of not doing them if it can find an[page 38] excuse—is eminently slip-shod. The only point in which they show themselves astute is in seeing that their Rubicon has a safe bridge by which they may retreat, if that suits their plans after crossing it. To deceive the enemy they hide this as best they can, for the most part successfully, causing the greatest consternation in the opposite camp, which, at the moment when it thinks it has driven them into a corner, sees their ranks gradually thinning from behind, dribbling away by an outlet hitherto invisible. Thus, in accepting a Moor's promise, one must always consider the conditions or rider annexed.

This can be well illustrated by the reluctant permission to transport grain from one Moorish port to another, granted from time to time, but so hampered by restrictions as to be only available to a few, the Moorish Government itself deriving the greatest advantage from it. Then, too, there is the property clause in the Convention of Madrid, which has been described as the sop by means of which the Powers were induced to accept other less favourable stipulations. Instead of being the step in advance which it appeared to be, it was, in reality, a backward step, the conditions attached making matters worse than before.

In this way only do the Moors shine as politicians, unless prevarication and procrastination be included, Machiavellian arts in which they easily excel. Otherwise they are content to jog along in the same slip-shod manner as their fathers did centuries ago, as soon as prosperity had removed the incentive to exert the energy they once possessed. The same carelessness marks their[page 39] conduct in everything, and the same unsatisfactory results inevitably follow.

But to get at the root of the matter it is necessary to go a step further. The absolute lack of morals among the people is the real cause of the trouble. Morocco is so deeply sunk in the degradation of vice, and so given up to lust, that it is impossible to lay bare its deplorable condition. In most countries, with a fair proportion of the pure and virtuous, some attempt is made to gloss over and conceal one's failings; but in this country the only vice which public opinion seriously condemns is drunkenness, and it is only before foreigners that any sense of shame or desire for secrecy about others is observable. The Moors have not yet attained to that state of hypocritical sanctimoniousness in which modern society in civilized lands delights to parade itself.

The taste for strong drink, though still indulged comparatively in secret, is steadily increasing, the practice spreading from force of example among the Moors themselves, as a result of the strenuous efforts of foreigners to inculcate this vice. European consular reports not infrequently note with congratulation the growing imports of wines and liqueurs into Morocco, nominally for the sole use of foreigners, although manifestly far in excess of their requirements. As yet, it is chiefly among the higher and lower classes that the victims are found, the former indulging in the privacy of their own homes, and the latter at the low drinking-dens kept by the scum of foreign settlers in the open ports. Among the country people of the plains and lower hills there are hardly any who would touch[page 40] intoxicating liquor, though among the mountaineers the use of alcohol has ever been more common.

Tobacco smoking is very general on the coast, owing to contact with Europeans, but still comparatively rare in the interior, although the native preparations of hemp (keef), and also to some extent opium, have a large army of devotees, more or less victims. The latter, however, being an expensive import, is less known in the interior. Snuff-taking is fairly general among men and women, chiefly the elderly. What they take is very strong, being a composition of tobacco, walnut shells, and charcoal ash. The writer once saw a young Englishman, who thought he could stand a good pinch of snuff, fairly "knocked over" by a quarter as much as the owner of the nut from which it came took with the utmost complacency.

The feeling of the Moorish Government about smoking has long been so strong that in every treaty with Europe is inserted a clause reserving the right of prohibiting the importation of all narcotics, or articles used in their manufacture or consumption. Till a few years ago the right to deal in these was granted yearly as a monopoly; but in 1887 the late Sultan, Mulai el Hasan, and his aoláma, or councillors, decided to abolish the business altogether, so, purchasing the existing stocks at a valuation, they had the whole burned. But first the foreign officials and then private foreigners demanded the right to import whatever they needed "for their own consumption," and the abuse of this courtesy has enabled several tobacco factories to spring up in the country. The position with regard to the liquor traffic is almost the same. If the[page 41] Moors were free to legislate as they wished, they would at once prohibit the importation of intoxicants.

Of late years, however, a great change has come over the Moors of the ports, more especially so in Tangier, where the number of taverns and cafés has increased most rapidly. During many years' residence there the cases of drunkenness met with could be counted on the fingers, and were then confined to guides or servants of foreigners; on the last visit paid to the country more were observed in a month than then in years. In those days to be seen with a cigarette was almost a crime, and those who indulged in a whiff at home took care to deodorize their mouths with powdered coffee; now Moors sit with Europeans, smoking and drinking, unabashed, at tables in the streets, but not those of the better sort. Thus Morocco is becoming civilized!

However ashamed a Moor may be of drunkenness, no one thinks of making a pretence of being chaste or moral. On the contrary, no worse is thought of a man who is wholly given up to the pleasures of the flesh than of one who is addicted to the most innocent amusements. If a Moor is remonstrated with, he declares he is not half so bad as the "Nazarenes" he has come across, who, in addition to practising most of his vices, indulge in drunkenness. It is not surprising, therefore, that the diseases which come as a penalty for these vices are fearfully prevalent in Morocco. Everywhere one comes across the ravages of such plagues, and is sickened at the sight of their victims. Without going further into details, it will suffice to[page 42] mention that one out of every five patients (mostly males) who attend at the dispensary of the North Africa Mission at Tangier are direct, or indirect, sufferers from these complaints.

The Moors believe in "sowing wild oats" when young, till their energy is extinguished, leaving them incapable of accomplishing anything. Then they think the pardon of God worth invoking, if only in the vain hope of having their youth renewed as the eagle's. Yet if this could happen, they would be quite ready to commence a fresh series of follies more outrageous than before. This is a sad picture, but nevertheless true, and, far from being exaggerated, does not even hint at much that exists in Morocco to-day.

The words of the Korán about such matters are never considered, though nominally the sole guide for life. The fact that God is "the Pitying, the Pitiful, King of the Day of Judgement," is considered sufficient warrant for the devotees of Islám to lightly indulge in breaches of laws which they hold to be His, confident that if they only perform enough "vain repetitions," fast at the appointed times, and give alms, visiting Mekka, if possible, or if not, making pilgrimages to shrines of lesser note nearer home, God, in His infinite mercy, will overlook all.

An anonymous writer has aptly remarked—"Every good Mohammedan has a perpetual free pass over that line, which not only secures to him personally a safe transportation to Paradise, but provides for him upon his arrival there so luxuriously that he can leave all the cumbersome baggage of his earthly harem behind him, and begin his celestial house-keeping with an entirely new outfit."

[page 43]

Here lies the whole secret of Morocco's backward state. Her people, having outstepped even the ample limits of licentiousness laid down in the Korán, and having long ceased to be even true Mohammedans, by the time they arrive at manhood have no energy left to promote her welfare, and sink into an indolent, procrastinating race, capable of little in the way of progress till a radical change takes place in their morals.

Nothing betrays their moral condition more clearly than their unrestrained conversation, a reeking vapour arising from a mass of corruption. The foul ejaculations of an angry Moor are unreproducible, only serving to show extreme familiarity with vice of every sort. The tales to which they delight to listen, the monotonous chants rehearsed by hired musicians at public feasts or private entertainments, and the voluptuous dances they delight to have performed before them as they lie sipping forbidden liquors, are all of one class, recounting and suggesting evil deeds to hearers or observers.

The constant use made of the name of God, mostly in stock phrases uttered without a thought as to their real meaning, is counterbalanced in some measure by cursing of a most elaborate kind, and the frequent mention of the "Father of Lies," called by them "The Liar" par excellence. The term "elaborate" is the only one wherewith to describe a curse so carefully worded that, if executed, it would leave no hope of Paradise either for the unfortunate addressee or his ancestors for several generations. On the slightest provocation, or without that excuse, the Moor can roll forth the most intricate genealogical objurgations, or rap out an oath. In ordinary[page 44] cases of displeasure he is satisfied with showering expletives on the parents and grand-parents of the object of his wrath, with derogatory allusions to the morals of those worthies' "better halves." "May God have mercy on thy relatives, O my Lord," is a common way of addressing a stranger respectfully, and the contrary expression is used to produce a reverse effect.

I am often asked, "What would a Moor think of this?" Probably some great invention will be referred to, or some manifest improvement in our eyes over Moorish methods or manufactures. If it was something he could see, unless above the average, he would look at it as a cow looks at a new gate, without intelligence, realizing only the change, not the cause or effect. By this time the Moors are becoming familiar, at least by exaggerated descriptions, with most of the foreigner's freaks, and are beginning to refuse to believe that the Devil assists us, as they used to, taking it for granted that we should be more ingenious, and they more wise! The few who think are apt to pity the rush of our lives, and write us down, from what they have themselves observed in Europe as in Morocco, as grossly immoral beside even their acknowledged failings. The faults of our civilization they quickly detect, the advantages are mostly beyond their comprehension.

Some years ago a friend of mine showed two Moors some of the sights of London. When they saw St. Paul's they told of the glories of the Karûeeïn mosque at Fez; with the towers of Westminster before them they sang the praises of the Kûtûbîya at Marrákesh. Whatever they[page 45] saw had its match in Morocco. But at last, as a huge dray-horse passed along the highway with its heavy load, one grasped the other's arm convulsively, exclaiming, "M'bark Allah! Aoûd hadhá!"—"Blessed be God! That's a horse!" Here at least was something that did appeal to the heart of the Arab. For once he saw a creature he could understand, the like of which was never bred in Barbary, and his wonder knew no bounds.

An equally good story is told of an Englishman who endeavoured to convince a Moor at home of the size of these horses. With his stick he drew on the ground one of their full-sized shoes. "But we have horses beyond the mountains with shoes this size," was the ready reply, as the native drew another twice as big. Annoyed at not being able to convince him, the Englishman sent home for a specimen shoe. When he showed it to the Moor, the only remark he elicited was that a native smith could make one twice the size. Exasperated now, and not to be outdone, the Englishman sent home for a cart-horse skull. "Now you've beaten me!" at last acknowledged the Moor. "You Christians can make anything, but we can't make bones!"

Bigoted and fanatical as the Moors may show themselves at times, they are generally willing enough to be friends with those who show themselves friendly. And notwithstanding the way in which the strong oppress the weak, as a nation they are by no means treacherous or cruel; on the contrary, the average Moor is genial and hospitable, does not forget a kindness, and is a man whom one can respect. Yet it is strange how soon a little[page 46] power, and the need for satisfying the demands of his superiors, will corrupt the mildest of them; and the worst are to be found among families which have inherited office. The best officials are those chosen from among retired merchants whose palms no longer itch, and who, by intercourse with Europeans, have had their ideas of life broadened.

The greatest obstacle to progress in Morocco is the blind prejudice of ignorance. It is hard for the Moors to realize that their presumed hereditary foes can wish them well, and it is suspicion, rather than hostility, which induces them to crawl within their shell and ask to be left alone. Too often subsequent events have shown what good ground they have had for suspicion. It is a pleasure for me to be able to state that during all the years that I have lived among them, often in the closest intercourse, I have never received the least insult, but have been well repaid in my own coin. What more could be wished?

[page 47]

IV

THE BERBER RACE

"Every lion in his own forest roars."

Moorish Proverb.

Few who glibly use the word "Barbarian" pause to consider whether the present meaning attached to the name is justified or not, or whether the people of Barbary are indeed the uncivilized, uncouth, incapable lot their name would seem to imply to-day. In fact, the popular ignorance regarding the nearest point of Africa is even greater than of the actually less known central portions, where the white man penetrates with every risk. To declare that the inhabitants of the four Barbary States—Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, and Tripoli—are not "Blackamoors" at all, but white like ourselves, is to astonish most folk at the outset.

Of course in lands where the enslavement of neighbouring negro races has been an institution for a thousand years or more, there is a goodly proportion of mulattoes; and among those whose lives have been spent for generations in field work there are many whose skins are bronzed and darkened, but they are white by nature, nevertheless, and town life soon restores the original hue. The student class of Fez, drawn from all sections of the population of Morocco, actually makes a boast of the pale[page 48] and pasty complexions attained by life amid the shaded cloisters and covered streets of the intellectual capital. Then again those who are sunburned and bronzed are more of the Arab stock than of the Berber.

These Berbers, the original Barbarians, known to the Romans and Greeks as such before the Arab was heard of outside Arabia, are at once the greatest and the most interesting nation, or rather race, of the whole of Africa. Had such a coalition as "the United States of North Africa" been possible, Europe would long ago have learned to fear and respect the title "Barbarian" too much to put it to its present use. But the weak point of the Berber race has been its lack of homogeneity; it has ever been split up into independent states and tribes, constantly indulging in internecine warfare. This is a principle which has its origin in the relations of the units whereof they are composed, of whom it may be said as of the sons of Ishmael, that every man's hand is against his neighbour. The vendetta, a result of the lex talionis of "eye for eye and tooth for tooth," flourishes still. No youth is supposed to have attained full manhood until he has slain his man, and excuses are seldom lacking. The greatest insult that can be offered to an enemy is to tell him that his father died in bed—even greater than the imputation of evil character to his maternal relatives.

Some years ago I had in my service a lad of about thirteen, one of several Reefians whom I had about me for the practice of their language. Two or three years later, on returning to Morocco, I met him one day on the market.

[page 49]

"I am so glad to see you," he said; "I want you to help me buy some guns."

"What for?"

"Well, my father's dead; may God have mercy on him!"

"How did he die?"

"God knows."

"But what has that to do with the gun?"

"You see, we must kill my three uncles, I and my two brothers, and we want three guns."

"What! Did they kill your father?"

"God knows."

"May He deliver you from such a deed. Come round to the house for some food."

"But I've got married since you saw me, and expect an heir, yet they chaff me and call me a boy because I have never yet killed a man."

I asked an old servant who had been to England, and seemed "almost a Christian," to try and dissuade him, but only to meet with an appreciative, "Well done! I always thought there was something in that lad."

So I tried a second, but with worse results, for he patted the boy on the back with an assurance that he could not dissuade him from so sacred a duty; and at last I had to do what I could myself. I extorted a promise that he would try and arrange to take blood-money, but as he left the door his eye fell on a broken walking-stick.

"Oh, do give me that! It's no use to you, and it would make such a nice prop for my gun, as I am a very bad shot, and we mean to wait outside for them in the dark."

The sequel I have never heard.

[page 50]

Up in those mountains every one lives in fortified dwellings—big men in citadels, others in wall-girt villages, all from time to time at war with one another, or with the dwellers in some neighbouring valley. Fighting is their element; as soon as "the powder speaks" there are plenty to answer, for every one carries his gun, and it is wonderful how soon upon these barren hills an armed crowd can muster. Their life is a hard fight with Nature; all they ask is to be left alone to fight it out among themselves. Even on the plains among the Arabs and the mixed tribes described as Moors, things are not much better, for there, too, vendettas and cattle lifting keep them at loggerheads, and there is nothing the clansmen like so well as a raid on the Governor's kasbah or castle. These kasbahs are great walled strongholds dotted about the country; in times of peace surrounded by groups of huts and tents, whose inhabitants take refuge inside when their neighbours appear. The high walls and towers are built of mud concrete, often red like the Alhambra, the surface of which stands the weather ill, but which, when kept in repair, lasts for centuries.

The Reefian Berbers are among the finest men in Morocco—warlike and fierce, it is true, from long habit and training; but they have many excellent qualities, in addition to stalwart frames. "If you don't want to be robbed," say they, "don't come our way. We only care to see men who can fight, with whom we may try our luck." They will come and work for Europeans, forming friendships among them, and if it were not for the suspicion of those who have not done so, who always fear political[page 51] agents and spies, they would often be willing to take Europeans through their land. I have more than once been invited to go as a Moor. But the ideas they get of Europeans in Tangier do not predispose to friendship, and they will not allow them to enter their territories if they can help it. Only those who are in subjection to the Sultan permit them to do so freely.

The men are a hardy, sturdy race, wiry and lithe, inured to toil and cold, fonder far of the gun and sword than of the ploughshare, and steady riders of an equally wiry race of mountain ponies. Their dwellings are of stone and mud, often of two floors, flat-topped, with rugged, projecting eaves, the roofs being made of poles covered with the same material as the walls, stamped and smoothed. These houses are seldom whitewashed, and present a ruinous appearance. Their ovens are domes about three feet or less in height outside; they are heated by a fire inside, then emptied, and the bread put in. Similar ovens are employed in camp to bake for the Court.

Instead of that forced seclusion and concealment of the features to which the followers of Islám elsewhere doom their women, in these mountain homes they enjoy almost as perfect liberty as their sisters in Europe. I have been greatly struck with their intelligence and generally superior appearance to such Arab women as I have by chance been able to see. Once, when supping with the son of a powerful governor from above Fez, his mother, wife, and wife's sister sat composedly to eat with us, which could never have occurred in the dwelling of a Moor. No attempt at covering their faces was[page 52] made, though male attendants were present at times, but the little daughter shrieked at the sight of a Nazarene. The grandmother, a fine, buxom dame, could read and write—which would be an astonishing accomplishment for a Moorish woman—and she could converse better than many men who would in this country pass for educated.

The Berber dress has either borrowed from or lent much to the Moor, but a few articles stamp it wherever worn. One of these is a large black cloak of goat's-hair, impervious to rain, made of one piece, with no arm-holes. At the point of the cowl hangs a black tassel, and right across the back, about the level of the knees, runs an assagai-shaped patch, often with a centre of red. It has been opined that this remarkable feature represents the All-seeing Eye, so often used as a charm, but from the scanty information I could gather from the people themselves, I believe that they have lost sight of the original idea, though some have told me that variations in the pattern mark clan distinctions. I have ridden—when in the guise of a native—for days together in one of these cloaks, during pelting rain which never penetrated it. In more remote districts, seldom visited by Europeans, the garments are ruder far, entirely of undyed wool, and unsewn, mere blankets with slits cut in the centre for the head. This is, however, in every respect, a great difference between the various districts. The turban is little used by these people, skull-caps being preferred, while their red cloth gun-cases are commonly twisted turban-wise as head-gear, though often a camel's-hair cord is deemed sufficient protection for the head.

[page 53]

Every successive ruler of North Africa has had to do with the problem of subduing the Berbers and has failed. In the wars between Rome and Carthage it was among her sturdy Berber soldiers that the southern rival of the great queen city of the world found actual sinews enough to hold the Roman legions so long at bay, and often to overcome her vaunted cohorts and carry the war across into Europe. Where else did Rome find so near a match, and what wars cost her more than did those of Africa? Carthage indeed has fallen, and from her once famed Byrsa the writer has been able to count on his fingers the local remains of her greatness, yet the people who made her what she was remain—the Berbers of Tunisia. The Phœnician settlers, though bringing with them wealth and learning and arts, could never have done alone what they did without the hardy fighting men supplied by the hills around.

When Rome herself had fallen, and the fames of Carthage and Utica were forgotten, there came across North Africa a very different race from those who had preceded them, the desert Arabs, introducing the creed of Islám. In the course of a century or two, North Africa became Mohammedan, pagan and Christian institutions being swept away before that onward wave. It is not probable that at any time Christianity had any real hold upon the Berbers themselves, and Islám itself sits lightly on their easy consciences.

The Arabs had for the moment solved the Berber problem. They were the amalgam which, by coalescing with the scattered factions of their race, had bound them up together and had formed[page 54] for once a nation of them. Thus it was that the Muslim armies obtained force to carry all before them, and thus was provided the new blood and the active temper to which alone are due the conquest of Spain, and subsequent achievements there. The popular description of the Mohammedan rulers of Spain as "Saracens"—Easterners—is as erroneous as the supposition that they were Arabs. The people who conquered Spain were Berbers, although their leaders often adopted Arabic names with an Arab religion and Arab culture. The Arabic language, although official, was by no means general, nor is it otherwise to-day. The men who fought and the men who ruled were Berbers out and out, though the latter were often the sons of Arab fathers or mothers, and the great religious chiefs were purely Arab on the father's side at least, the majority claiming descent from Mohammed himself, and as such forming a class apart of shareefs or nobles.

Though nominal Mohammedans, and in Morocco acknowledging the religious supremacy of the reigning shareefian family, the Moorish Berbers still retain a semi-independence. The mountains of the Atlas chain have always been their home and refuge, where the plainsmen find it difficult and dangerous to follow them. The history of the conquest of Algeria and Tunisia by the French has shown that they are no mean opponents even to modern weapons and modern warfare. The Kabyles,[^*] as they are erroneously styled in those countries,[page 55] have still to be kept in check by the fear of arms, and their prowess no one disputes. These are the people the French propose to subdue by "pacific penetration." The awe with which these mountaineers have inspired the plainsmen and townsfolk is remarkable; as good an illustration of it as I know was the effect produced on a Moor by my explanation that a Highland friend to whom I had introduced him was not an Englishman, but what I might call a "British Berber." The man was absolutely awe-struck.

Separated from the Arab as well as from the European by a totally distinct, unwritten language, with numerous dialects, these people still exist as a mine of raw material, full of possibilities. In habits and style of life they may be considered uncivilized even in contrast to the mingled dwellers on the lowlands; but they are far from being savages. Their stalwart frames and sturdy independence fit them for anything, although the latter quality keeps them aloof, and has so far prevented intercourse with the outside world.

Many have their own pet theories as to the origin of the Berbers and their language, not a few believing them to have once been altogether Christians, while others, following native authors, attribute to them Canaanitish ancestors, and ethnologists dispute as to the branch of Noah's family in which to class them. It is more than probable that they are one with the ancient Egyptians, who, at least, were no barbarians, if Berbers. But all are agreed that some of the finest stocks of southern and western Europe are of kindred origin, if not[page 56] identical with them, and even if this be uncertain, enough has been said to show that they have played no unimportant part in European history, though it has ever been their lot to play behind the scenes—scene-shifters rather than actors.

[*] I.e. "Provincials," so misnamed from Kabîlah (pl. Kabáïl), a province.

[page 57]

V

THE WANDERING ARAB

"I am loving, not lustful."

Moorish Proverb.

Some strange fascination attaches itself to the simple nomad life of the Arab, in whatever country he be found, and here, in the far west of his peregrinations, he is encountered living almost in the same style as on the other side of Suez; his only roof a cloth, his country the wide world. Sometimes the tents are arranged as many as thirty or more in a circle, and at other times they are grouped hap-hazard, intermingled with round huts of thatch, and oblong ones of sun-dried bricks, thatched also; but in the latter cases the occupants are unlikely to be pure Arabs, for that race seldom so nearly approaches to settling anywhere. When the tents are arranged in a circle, the animals are generally picketed in the centre, but more often some are to be found sharing the homes of their owners.

The tent itself is of an oval shape, with a wooden ridge on two poles across the middle third of the centre, from front to back, with a couple of strong bands of the same material as the tent fixed on either side, whence cords lead to pegs in the ground, passing over two low stakes leaning outwards. A rude camel's hair canvas is stretched[page 58] over this frame, being kept up at the edges by more leaning stakes, and fastened by cords to pegs all round. The door space is left on the side which faces the centre of the encampment, and the walls or "curtains" are formed of high thistles lashed together in sheaves. Surrounding the tent is a yard, a simple bog in winter, the boundary of which is a ring formed by bundles of prickly branches, which compose a really formidable barrier, being too much for a jump, and too tenacious to one another and to visitors for penetration. The break left for an entrance is stopped at night by another bundle which makes the circle complete.

The interior of the tent is often more or less divided by the pole supporting the roof, and by a pile of household goods, such as they are. Sometimes a rude loom is fastened to the poles, and at it a woman sits working on the floor. The framework—made of canes—is kept in place by rigging to pegs in the ground. The woman's hand is her only shuttle, and she threads the wool through with her fingers, a span at a time, afterwards knocking it down tightly into place with a heavy wrought-iron comb about two inches wide, with a dozen prongs. She seems but half-dressed, and makes no effort to conceal either face or breast, as a filthy child lies feeding in her lap. Her seat is a piece of matting, but the principal covering for the floor of trodden mud is a layer of palmetto leaves. Round the "walls" are several hens with chicks nestling under their wings, and on one side a donkey is tethered, while a calf sports at large.

The furniture of this humble dwelling consists of two or three large, upright, mud-plastered,[page 59] split-cane baskets, containing corn, partially sunk in the ground, and a few dirty bags. On one side is the mill, a couple of stones about eighteen inches across, the upper one convex, with a handle at one side. Three stones above a small hole in the ground serve as a cooking-range, while the fuel is abundant in the form of sun-dried thistles and other weeds, or palmetto leaves and sticks. Fire is obtained by borrowing from one another, but should it happen that no one in the encampment had any, the laborious operation of lighting dry straw from the flash in the pan of a flint-lock would have to be performed. To light the rude lamp—merely a bit of cotton protruding from anything with olive-oil in it—it is necessary to blow some smoking straw or weed till it bursts into a flame.

Little else except the omnipresent dirt is to be found in the average Arab tent. A tin or two for cooking operations, a large earthen water-jar, and a pan or two to match, in which the butter-milk is kept, a sieve for the flour, and a few rough baskets, usually complete the list, and all are remarkable only for the prevailing grime. Making a virtue of necessity, the Arab prefers sour milk to fresh, for with this almost total lack of cleanliness, no milk would long keep sweet. Their food is of the simplest, chiefly the flour of wheat, barley, or Indian millet prepared in various ways, for the most part made up into flat, heavy cakes of bread, or as kesk'soo. Milk, from which butter is made direct by tossing it in a goat-skin turned inside out, eggs and fowls form the chief animal food, butcher's meat being but seldom indulged in. Vegetables do not enter into their diet, as they have no gardens, and beyond possessing[page 60] flocks and herds, those Arabs met with in Barbary are wretchedly poor and miserably squalid. The patriarchal display of Arabia is here unknown.

Of children and dogs there is no lack. Both abound, and wallow in the mud together. Often the latter seem to have the better time of it. Two families by one father will sometimes share one tent between them, but generally each "household" is distinct, though all sleep together in the one apartment of their abode. As one approaches a dûár, or encampment, an early warning is given by the hungry dogs, and soon the half-clad children rush out to see who comes, followed leisurely by their elders. Hospitality has ever been an Arab trait, and these poor creatures, in their humble way, sustain the best traditions of their race. A native visitor of their own class is entertained and fed by the first he comes across, while the foreign traveller or native of means with his own tent is accommodated on the rubbish in the midst of the encampment, and can purchase all he wishes—all that they have—for a trifle, though sometimes they turn disagreeable and "pile it on." A present of milk and eggs, perhaps fowls, may be brought, for which, however, a quid pro quo is expected.

Luxuries they have not. Whatever they need to do in the way of shopping, is done at the nearest market once a week, and nothing but the produce already mentioned is to be obtained from them. In the evenings they stuff themselves to repletion, if they can afford it, with a wholesome dish of prepared barley or wheat meal, sometimes crowned with beans; then, after a gossip round the crackling fire, or, on state occasions, three cups of syrupy[page 61] green tea apiece, they roll themselves in their long blankets and sleep on the ground.

The first blush of dawn sees them stirring, and soon all is life and excitement. The men go off to their various labours, as do many of the stronger women, while the remainder attend to their scanty household duties, later on basking in the sun. But the moment the stranger arrives the scene changes, and the incessant din of dogs, hags and babies commences, to which the visitor is doomed till late at night, with the addition then of neighs and brays and occasional cock-crowing.

It never seemed to me that these poor folk enjoyed life, but rather that they took things sadly. How could it be otherwise? No security of life and property tempts them to make a show of wealth; on the contrary, they bury what little they may save, if any, and lead lives of misery for fear of tempting the authorities. Their work is hard; their comforts are few. The wild wind howls through their humble dwellings, and the rain splashes in at the door. In sickness, for lack of medical skill, they lie and perish. In health their only pleasures are animal. Their women, once they are past the prime of life, which means soon after thirty with this desert race, go unveiled, and work often harder than the men, carrying burdens, binding sheaves, or even perhaps helping a donkey to haul a plough. Female features are never so jealously guarded here as in the towns.

Yet they are a jolly, good-tempered, simple folk. Often have I spent a merry evening round the fire with them, squatted on a bit of matting, telling of the wonders of "That Country," the name which[page 62] alternates in their vocabulary with "Nazarene Land," as descriptive of all the world but Morocco and such portions of North Africa or Arabia as they may have heard of. Many an honest laugh have we enjoyed over their wordy tales, or perchance some witty sally; but in my heart I have pitied these down-trodden people in their ignorance and want. Home they do not know. When the pasture in Shechem is short, they remove to Dothan; next month they may be somewhere else. But they are always ready to share their scanty portion with the wayfarer, wherever they are.

When the time comes for changing quarters these wanderers find the move but little trouble. Their few belongings are soon collected and packed, and the tent itself made ready for transportation. Their animals are got together, and ere long the cavalcade is on the road. Often one poor beast will carry a fair proportion of the family—the mother and a child or two, for instance—in addition to a load of household goods, and bundles of fowls slung by their feet. At the side men and boys drive the flocks and herds, while as often as not the elder women-folk take a full share in the porterage of their property. To meet such a caravan is to feel one's self transported to Bible times, and to fancy Jacob going home from Padan Aram.

[page 63]

VI

CITY LIFE

"Seek the neighbour before the house, And the companion before the road."

Moorish Proverb.

Few countries afford a better insight into typical Mohammedan life, or boast a more primitive civilization, than Morocco, preserved as it has been so long from western contamination. The patriarchal system, rendered more or less familiar to us by our Bibles, still exists in the homes of its people, especially those of the country-side; but Moorish city life is no less interesting or instructive. If an Englishman's house is his castle, the Mohammedan's house is a prison—not for himself, but for his women. Here is the radical difference between their life and ours. No one who has not mixed intimately with the people as one of themselves, lodging in their houses and holding constant intercourse with them, can form an adequate idea of the lack of home feeling, even in the happiest families.

The moment you enter a town, however, the main facts are brought vividly before you on every hand. You pass along a narrow thoroughfare—maybe six, maybe sixteen feet in width—bounded by almost blank walls, in some towns whitewashed,[page 64] in others bare mud, in which are no windows, lest their inmates might see or be seen. Even above the roofs of the majority of two-storied houses (for very many in the East consist but of ground floor), the wall is continued to form a parapet round the terrace. If you meet a woman in the street, she is enveloped from head to ankle in close disguise, with only a peep-hole for one or both eyes, unless too ugly and withered for such precautions to be needful.

You arrive at the door of your friend's abode, a huge massive barrier painted brown or green—if not left entirely uncoloured—and studded all over with nails. A very prison entrance it appears, for the only other breaks in the wall above are slits for ventilation, all placed so high in the room as to be out of reach. In the warmer parts of the country you would see latticed boxes protruding from the walls—meshrabîyahs or drinking-places—shelves on which porous earthen jars may be placed to catch the slightest breeze, that the God-sent beverage to which Mohammedans are wisely restricted may be at all times cool. You are terrified, if a stranger, by the resonance of this great door, as you let the huge iron ring which serves as knocker fall on the miniature anvil beneath it. Presently your scattered thoughts are recalled by a chirping voice from within—

"Who's that?"

You recognize the tones as those of a tiny negress slave, mayhap a dozen years of age, and as you give your name you hear a patter of bare feet on the tiles within, but if you are a male, you are left standing out in the street. In a few[page 65] moments the latch of the inner door is sedately lifted, and with measured tread you hear the slippers of your friend advancing.

"Is that So-and-so?" he asks, pausing on the other side of the door.

"It is, my Lord."

"Welcome, then."

The heavy bolt is drawn, and the door swings on its hinges during a volley and counter-volley of inquiries, congratulations, and thanks to God, accompanied by the most graceful bows, the mutual touching and kissing of finger-tips, and the placing of hands on hearts. As these exercises slacken, your host advances to the inner door, and possibly disappears through it, closing it carefully behind him. You hear his stentorian voice commanding, "Amel trek!"—"Make way!"—and this is followed by a scuffle of feet which tells you he is being obeyed. Not a female form will be in sight by the time your host returns to lead you in by the hand with a thousand welcomes, entreating you to make yourself at home.

The passage is constructed with a double turn, so that you could not look, if you would, from the roadway into the courtyard which you now enter. If one of the better-class houses, the floor will be paved with marble or glazed mosaics, and in the centre will stand a bubbling fountain. Round the sides is a colonnade supporting the first-floor landing, reached by a narrow stairway in the corner. Above is the deep-blue sky, obscured, perhaps, by the grateful shade of fig or orange boughs, or a vine on a trellis, under which the people live. The walls, if not tiled, are whitewashed, and often[page 66] beautifully decorated in plaster mauresques. In the centre of three of the four sides are huge horseshoe-arched doorways, two of which will probably be closed by cotton curtains. These suffice to ensure the strictest privacy within, as no one would dream of approaching within a couple of yards of a room with the curtain down, till leave had been asked and obtained.

You are led into the remaining room, the guest-chamber, and the curtain over the entrance is lowered. You may not now venture to rise from your seat on the mattress facing the door till the women whom you hear emerging from their retreats have been admonished to withdraw again. The long, narrow apartment, some eight feet by twenty, in which you find yourself has a double bed at each end, for it is sleeping-room and sitting-room combined, as in Barbary no distinction is known between the two. However long you may remain, you see no female face but that of the cheery slave-girl, who kisses your hand so demurely as she enters with refreshments.

Thus the husband receives his friends—perforce all males unless he be "on the spree,"—in apartments from which all women-folk are banished. Likewise the ladies of the establishment hold their festive gatherings apart. Most Moors, however, are too strict to allow much visiting among their women, especially if they be wealthy and have a good complexion, when they are very closely confined, except when allowed to visit the bath at certain hours set apart for the fair sex, or on Fridays to lay myrtle branches on the tombs of saints and departed relatives. Most of the ladies'[page 67] calls are roof-to-roof visitations, and very nimble they are in getting over the low partition walls, even dragging a ladder up and down with them if there are high ones to be crossed. The reason is that the roofs, or rather terraces, are especially reserved for women-folk, and men are not even allowed to go up except to do repairs, when the neighbouring houses are duly warned; it is illegal to have a window overlooking another's roof. David's temptation doubtless arose from his exercise of a Royal exemption from this all-prevailing custom.

But for their exceedingly substantial build, the Moorish women in the streets might pass for ghosts, for with the exception of their red Morocco slippers, their costume is white—wool-white. A long and heavy blanket of coarse homespun effectually conceals all features but the eyes, which are touched up with antimony on the lids, and are sufficiently expressive. Sometimes a wide-brimmed straw hat is jauntily clapped on; but here ends the plate of Moorish out-door fashions. In-doors all is colour, light and glitter.

In matters of colour and flowing robes the men are not far behind, and they make up abroad for what they lack at home. No garment is more artistic, and no drapery more graceful, than that in which the wealthy Moor takes his daily airing, either on foot or on mule back. Beneath a gauze-like woollen toga—relic of ancient art—glimpses of luscious hue are caught—crimson and purple; deep greens and "afternoon sun colour" (the native name for a rich orange); salmons, and pale, clear blues. A dark-blue cloak, when it is cold, negligently but[page 68] gracefully thrown across the shoulders, or a blue-green prayer-carpet folded beneath the arm, helps to set off the whole.

Chez lui our friend of the flowing garments is a king, with slaves to wait upon him, wives to obey him, and servants to fear his wrath. But his everyday reception-room is the lobby of his stables, where he sits behind the door in rather shabby garments attending to business matters, unless he is a merchant or shopkeeper, when his store serves as office instead.

If all that the Teuton considers essential to home-life is really a sine quâ non, then Orientals have no home-life. That is our way of looking upon it, judging in the most natural way, by our own standards. The Eastern, from his point of view, forms an equally poor idea of the customs which familiarity has rendered most dear to us. It is as difficult for us to set aside prejudice and to consider his systems impartially, as for him to do so with regard to our peculiar style. There are but two criteria by which the various forms of civilization so far developed by man may be fairly judged. The first is the suitability of any given form to the surroundings and exterior conditions of life of the nation adopting it, and the second is the moral or social effect on the community at large.

Under the first head the unbiassed student of mankind will approve in the main of most systems adopted by peoples who have attained that artificiality which we call civilization. An exchange among Westerners of their time-honoured habits for those of the East would not be less beneficial or more incongruous than a corresponding exchange[page 69] on the part of orientals. Those who are ignorant of life towards the sunrise commonly suppose that they can confer no greater benefit upon the natives of these climes than chairs, top-hats, and so on. Hardly could they be more mistaken. The Easterner despises the man who cannot eat his dinner without a fork or other implement, and who cannot tuck his legs beneath him, infinitely more than ill-informed Westerners despise petticoated men and shrouded women. Under the second head, however, a very different issue is reached, and one which involves not only social, but religious life, and consequently the creed on which this last is based. It is in this that Moorish civilization fails.

But list! what is that weird, low sound which strikes upon our ear and interrupts our musings? It is the call to prayer. For the fifth time to-day that cry is sounding—a warning to the faithful that the hour for evening devotions has come. See! yonder Moor has heard it too, and is already spreading his felt on the ground for the performance of his nightly orisons. Standing Mekka-wards, and bowing to the ground, he goes through the set forms used throughout the Mohammedan world. The majority satisfy their consciences by working off the whole five sets at once. But that cry! I hear it still; as one voice fails another carries on the strain in ever varying cadence, each repeating it to the four quarters of the heavens.

It was yet early in the morning when the first call of the day burst on the stilly air; the sun had not then risen o'er the hill tops, nor had his first, soft rays dispelled the shadows of the night. Only[page 70] the rustling of the wind was heard as it died among the tree tops—that wind which was a gale last night. The hurried tread of the night guard going on his last—perhaps his only—round before returning home, had awakened me from dreaming slumbers, and I was about to doze away into that sweetest of sleeps, the morning nap, when the distant cry broke forth. Pitched in a high, clear key, the Muslim confession of faith was heard; "Lá iláha il' Al-lah; wa Mohammed er-rasool Al-l-a-h!" Could ever bell send thrill like that? I wot not.

[page 71]

VII

THE WOMEN-FOLK

"Teach not thy daughter letters; let her not live on the roof."

Moorish Proverb.

Of no country in the world can it more truly be said than of the Moorish Empire that the social condition of the people may be measured by that of its women. Holding its women in absolute subjection, the Moorish nation is itself held in subjection, morally, politically, socially. The proverb heading this chapter, implying that women should not enjoy the least education or liberty, expresses the universal treatment of the weaker sex among Mohammedans. It is the subservient position of women which strikes the visitor from Europe more than all the oriental strangeness of the local customs or the local art and colour. Advocates of the restriction of the rights of women in our own land, and of the retention of disabilities unknown to men, who fail to recognize the justice and invariability of the principle of absolute equality in rights and liberty between the sexes, should investigate the state of things existing in Morocco, where the natural results of a fallacious principle have had free course.

No welcome awaits the infant daughter, and few care to bear the evil news to the father, who will[page 72] sometimes be left uninformed as to the sex of his child till the time comes to name her. It is rarely that girls are taught to read, or even to understand the rudiments of their religious system. Here and there a father who ranks in Morocco as scholarly, takes the trouble to teach his children at home, including his daughters in the class, but this is very seldom the case. Only those women succeed in obtaining even an average education in whom a thirst for knowledge is combined with opportunities in every way exceptional. In the country considerably more liberty is permitted than in the towns, and the condition of the Berber women has already been noted.

Nevertheless, in certain circumstances, women attain a power quite abnormal under such conditions, usually the result of natural astuteness, combined—at the outset, at least—with a reasonable share of good looks, for when a woman is fairly astute she is a match for a man anywhere. A Mohammedan woman's place in life depends entirely on her personal attractions. If she lacks good looks, or is thin—which in Barbary, as in other Muslim countries, amounts to much the same thing—her future is practically hopeless. The chances being less—almost nil—of getting her easily off their hands by marriage, the parents feel they must make the best they can of her by setting her to work about the house, and she becomes a general drudge. If the home is a wealthy one, she may be relieved from this lot, and steadily ply her needle at minutely fine silk embroidery, or deck and paint herself in style, but, despised by her more fortunate sisters, she is even then hardly better off.

[page 73]

If, on the other hand, a daughter is the beauty of the family, every one pays court to her in some degree, for there is no telling to what she may arrive. Perhaps, in Morocco, she is even thought good enough for the Sultan—plump, clear-skinned, bright-eyed. Could she but get a place in the Royal hareem, it would be in the hands of God to make her the mother of the coming sultan. But good looks alone will not suffice to take her there. Influence—a word translatable in the Orient by a shorter one, cash—must be brought to bear. The interest of a wazeer or two must be secured, and finally an interview must take place with one of the "wise women" who are in charge of the Imperial ladies. She, too, must be convinced by the eloquence of dollars, that His Majesty could not find another so graceful a creature in all his dominions.

When permission is given to send her to Court, what joy there is, what bedecking, what congratulation! At last she is taken away with a palpitating heart, as she thinks of the possibilities before her, bundled up in her blanket and mounted on an ambling mule under strictest guard. On arrival at her new home her very beauty will make enemies, especially among those who have been there longest, and who feel their chances grow less as each new-comer appears. Perhaps one Friday the Sultan notices her as he walks in his grounds in the afternoon, and taking a fancy to her, decides to make her his wife. At once all jealousies are hidden, and each vies with the other to render her service, and assist the preparations for the coming event. For a while she will remain supreme—a very queen indeed—but only till[page 74] her place is taken by another. If she has sons her chances are better; but unless she maintains her influence over her husband till her offspring are old enough to find a lasting place in his affections, she will probably one day be despatched to Tafilált, beyond the Atlas by the Sáharah, whence come those luscious dates. There every other man is a direct descendant of some Moorish king, as for centuries it has served as a sort of overflow for the prolific Royal house.

As Islám knows no right of primogeniture, each sultan appoints his heir; so each wife strives to obtain this favour for her son, and often enough the story of Ishmael and Isaac repeats itself among these reputed descendants of Hagar. The usual way is for the pet son to be placed in some command, even before really able to discharge the duties of the post, which shall secure him supreme control on his father's death. The treasury and the army are the two great means to this end. Those possible rivals who have not been sent away to Tafilált are as often as not imprisoned or put to death on some slight charge, as used to be the custom in England a few hundred years ago.

This method of bequeathing rights which do not come under the strict scale for the division of property contained in the Korán is not confined to Royalty. It applies also to religious sanctity. An instance is that of the late Shareef, or Noble, of Wazzán, a feudal "saint" of great influence. His father, on his deathbed, appointed as successor to his title, his holiness, and the estates connected therewith, the son who should be found playing with a certain stick, a common toy of his favourite. But[page 75] a black woman by whom he had a son was present, and ran out to place the stick in the hands of her own child, who thus inherited his father's honours. Some of the queens of Morocco have arrived at such power through their influence over their husbands that they have virtually ruled the Empire.

Supposing, however, that the damsel who has at last found admittance to the hareem does not, after all, prove attractive to her lord, she will in all probability be sent away to make room for some one else. She will be bestowed upon some country governor when he comes to Court. Sometimes it is an especially astute one who is thus transferred, that she may thereafter serve as a spy on his actions.

Though those before whom lies such a career as has been described will be comparatively few, none who can be considered beautiful are without their chances, however poor. Many well-to-do men prefer a poor wife to a rich one, because they can divorce her when tired of her without incurring the enmity of powerful relatives. Marriage is enjoined upon every Muslim as a religious duty, and, if able to afford it, he usually takes to himself his first wife before he is out of his teens. He is relieved of the choice of a partner which troubles some of us so much, for the ladies of his family undertake this for him: if they do not happen to know of a likely individual they employ a professional go-between, a woman who follows also the callings of pedlar and scandal-monger. It is the duty of this personage, on receipt of a present from his friends, to sing his praises and those of his family in the house of some beautiful girl, whose friends are thereby induced[page 76] to give her a present to go and do likewise on their behalf in the house of so promising a youth. Personal negotiations will then probably take place between the lady friends, and all things proving satisfactory, the fathers or brothers of the might-be pair discuss the dowry and marriage-settlement from a strictly business point of view.

At this stage the bride-elect will perhaps be thought not fat enough, and will have to submit to a course of stuffing. This consists in swallowing after each full meal a few small sausage-shaped boluses of flour, honey and butter, flavoured with anise-seed or something similar. A few months of this treatment give a marvellous rotundity to the figure, thus greatly increasing her charms in the native eye. But of these the bridegroom will see nothing, if not surreptitiously, till after the wedding, when she is brought to his house.

By that time formal documents of marriage will have been drawn up, and signed by notaries before the kádi or judge, setting forth the contract—with nothing in it about love or honour,—detailing every article which the wife brings with her, including in many instances a considerable portion of the household utensils. Notwithstanding all this, she may be divorced by her husband simply saying, "I divorce thee!" and though she may claim the return of all she brought, she has no option but to go home again. He may repent and take her back a first and a second time, but after he has put her away three times he may not marry her again till after she has been wedded to some one else and divorced. Theoretically she may get a divorce from him, but practically this is a matter of great difficulty.

[page 77]

The legal expression employed for the nuptial tie is one which conveys the idea of purchasing a field, to be put to what use the owner will, according him complete control. This idea is borne out to the full, and henceforward the woman lives for her lord, with no thought of independence or self-assertion. If he is poor, all work too hard for him that is not considered unwomanly falls to her share, hewing of wood and drawing of water, grinding of corn and making of bread, weaving and washing; but, strange to us, little sewing. When decidedly passée, she saves him a donkey in carrying wood and charcoal and grass to market, often bent nearly double under a load which she cannot lift, which has to be bound on her back. Her feet are bare, but her sturdy legs are at times encased in leather to ward off the wayside thorns. No longer jealously covered, she and her unmarried daughters trudge for many weary miles at dawn, her decidedly better-off half and a son or two riding the family mule. From this it is but a short step to helping the cow or donkey draw the plough, and this step is sometimes taken.

Until a woman's good looks have quite disappeared, which generally occurs about the time they become grandmothers—say thirty,—intercourse of any sort with men other than her relatives of the first degree is strictly prohibited, and no one dare salute a woman in the street, even if her attendant or mount shows her to be a privileged relative. The slightest recognition of a man out-of-doors—or indeed anywhere—would be to proclaim herself one of that degraded outcaste class as common in Moorish towns as in Europe.

Of companionship in wedlock the Moor has no[page 78] conception, and his ideas of love are those of lust. Though matrimony is considered by the Muslim doctors as "half of Islám," its value in their eyes is purely as a legalization of license by the substitution of polygamy for polyandry. Slavishly bound to the observance of wearisome customs, immured in a windowless house with only the roof for a promenade, seldom permitted outside the door, and then most carefully wrapped in a blanket till quite unrecognizable, the life of a Moorish woman, from the time she has first been caught admiring herself in a mirror, is that of a bird encaged. Lest she might grow content with such a lot, she has before her eyes from infancy the jealousies and rivalries of her father's wives and concubines, and is early initiated into the disgusting and unutterable practices employed to gain the favour of their lord. Her one thought from childhood is man, and distance lends enchantment. A word, the interchange of a look, with a man is sought for by the Moorish maiden more than are the sighs and glances of a coy brunette by a Spaniard. Nothing short of the unexpurgated Arabian Nights' Entertainments can convey an adequate idea of what goes on within those whited sepulchres, the broad, blank walls of Moorish towns. A word with the mason who comes to repair the roof, or even a peep at the men at work on the building over the way, on whose account the roof promenade is forbidden, is eagerly related and expatiated on. In short, all the training a Moorish woman receives is sensual, a training which of itself necessitates most rigorous, though often unavailing, seclusion.

Both in town and country intrigues are common,[page 79] but intrigues which have not even the excuse of the blindness of love, whose only motive is animal passion. The husband who, on returning home, finds a pair of red slippers before the door of his wife's apartment, is bound to understand thereby that somebody else's wife or daughter is within, and he dare not approach. If he has suspicions, all he can do is to bide his time and follow the visitor home, should the route lie through the streets, or despatch a faithful slave-girl or jealous concubine on a like errand, should the way selected be over the roof-tops. In the country, under a very different set of conventionalities, much the same takes place.

In a land where woman holds the degraded position which she does under Islám, such family circles as the Briton loves can never exist. The foundation of the home system is love, which seldom links the members of these families, most seldom of all man and wife. Anything else is not to be expected when they meet for the first time on their wedding night. To begin with, no one's pleasure is studied save that of the despotic master of the house. All the inmates, from the poor imprisoned wives down to the lively slave-girl who opens the door, all are there to serve his pleasure, and woe betide those who fail.

The first wife may have a fairly happy time of it for a season, if her looks are good, and her ways pleasing, but when a second usurps her place, she is generally cast aside as a useless piece of furniture, unless set to do servile work. Although four legal wives are allowed by the Korán, it is only among the rich that so many are found, on account of the expense of their maintenance in appropriate[page 80] style. The facility of divorce renders it much cheaper to change from time to time, and slaves are more economical. To the number of such women that a man may keep no limit is set; he may have "as many as his right hand can possess." Then, too, these do the work of the house, and if they bear their master no children, they may be sold like any other chattels.

The consequence of such a system is that she reigns who for the time stands highest in her lord's favour, so that the strife and jealousies which disturb the peace of the household are continual. This rivalry is naturally inherited by the children, who side with their several mothers, which is especially the case with the boys. Very often the legal wife has no children, or only daughters, while quite a little troop of step-children play about her house. In these cases it is not uncommon for at least the best-looking of these youngsters to be taught to call her "mother," and their real parent "Dadda M'barkah," or whatever her name may be. The offspring of wives and bondwomen stand on an equal footing before the law, in which Islám is still ahead of us.

Such is the sad lot of women in Morocco. Religion itself being all but denied them in practice, whatever precept provides, it is with blank astonishment that the majority of them hear the message of those noble foreign sisters of theirs who have devoted their lives to showing them a better way. The greatest difficulty is experienced in arousing in them any sense of individuality, any feeling of personal responsibility, or any aspiration after good. They are so accustomed to be treated [page 81] as cattle, that their higher powers are altogether dormant, all possibilities of character repressed. The welfare of their souls is supposed to be assured by union with a Muslim, and few know even how to pray. Instead of religion, their minds are saturated with the grossest superstition. If this be the condition of the free woman, how much worse that of the slave!

The present socially degraded state in which the people live, and their apparent, though not real, incapacity for progress and development, is to a great extent the curse entailed by this brutalization of women. No race can ever rise above the level of its weaker sex, and till Morocco learns this lesson it will never rise. The boy may be the father of the man, but the woman is the mother of the boy, and so controls the destiny of the nation. Nothing can indeed be hoped for in this country in the way of social progress till the minds of the men have been raised, and their estimation of women entirely changed. Though Turkey was so long much in the position in which Morocco remains to-day, it is a noteworthy fact that as she steadily progresses in the way of civilization, one of the most apparent features of this progress is the growing respect for women, and the increasing liberty which is allowed them, both in public and private.

[page 82]

VIII

SOCIAL VISITS[^*]

"Every country its customs."

Moorish Proverb.

"Calling" is not the common, every-day event in Barbary which it has grown to be in European society. The narrowed-in life of the Moorish woman of the higher classes, and the strict watch which is kept lest some other man than her husband should see her, makes a regular interchange of visits practically impossible. No doubt the Moorish woman would find them quite as great a burden as her western sister, and in this particular her ignorance may be greater bliss than her knowledge. In spite of the paucity of the "calls" she receives or pays, she is by no means ignorant of the life and character of her neighbours, thanks to certain old women (amongst them the professional match-makers) who go about as veritable gossip-mongers, and preserve their more cloistered sisters at least from dying of inanition. Thus the veriest trifles of house arrangement or management are thoroughly canvassed.

Nor is it a privilege commonly extended to European women to be received into the hareems of the high-class and wealthy Moors, although[page 83] lady missionaries have abundant opportunities for making the acquaintance of the women of the poorer classes, especially when medical knowledge and skill afford a key. But the wives of the rich are shut away to themselves, and if you are fortunate enough to be invited to call upon them, do not neglect your opportunity.

You will find that the time named for calling is not limited to the afternoon. Thus it may be when the morning air is blowing fresh from the sea, and the sun is mounting in the heavens, that you are ushered, perhaps by the master of the house, through winding passages to the quarters of the women. If there is a garden, this is frequently reserved for their use, and jealously protected from view, and as in all cases they are supposed to have the monopoly of the flat roof, the courteous male foreigner will keep his gaze from wandering thither too frequently, or resting there too long.

Do not be surprised if you are ushered into an apparently empty room, furnished after the Moorish manner with a strip of richly coloured carpet down the centre, and mattresses round the edge. If there is a musical box in the room, it will doubtless be set going as a pleasant accompaniment to conversation, and the same applies to striking or chiming clocks, for which the Moors have a strong predilection as objets d'art, rather than to mark the march of time.

Of course you will not have forgotten to remove your shoes at the door, and will be sitting cross-legged and quite at ease on one of the immaculate mattresses, when the ladies begin to arrive from their retreats. As they step forward to greet you,[page 84]you may notice their henna-stained feet, a means of decoration which is repeated on their hands, where it is sometimes used in conjunction with harkos, a black pigment with which is applied a delicate tracery giving the effect of black silk mittens. The dark eyes are made to appear more lustrous and almond-shaped by the application of antimony, and the brows are extended till they meet in a black line above the nose. The hair is arranged under a head-dress frequently composed of two bright-coloured, short-fringed silk handkerchiefs, knotted together above the ears, sometimes with the addition of an artificial flower: heavy ear-rings are worn, and from some of them there are suspended large silver hands, charms against the "evil eye." But undoubtedly the main feature of the whole costume is the kaftán or tunic of lustrous satin or silk, embroidered richly in gold and silver, of a colour showing to advantage beneath a white lace garment of similar shape.

The women themselves realize that such fine feathers must be guarded from spot or stain, for they are in many cases family heir-looms, so after they have greeted you with a slight pressure of their finger tips laid upon yours, and taken their seats, tailor fashion, you will notice that each sedulously protects her knees with a rough Turkish towel, quite possibly the worse for wear. In spite of her love for personal decoration, evidenced by the strings of pearls with which her neck is entwined, and the heavy silver armlets, the well-bred Moorish woman evinces no more curiosity than her European sister about the small adornments of her visitor, and this is the more remarkable when you remember[page 85] how destitute of higher interests is her life. She will make kindly and very interested inquiries about your relatives, and even about your life, though naturally, in spite of your explanations, it remains a sealed book to her. The average Moorish woman, however, shows herself as inquisitive as the Chinese.

It is quite possible that you may see some of the children, fascinating, dark-eyed, soft-skinned morsels of humanity, with henna-dyed hair, which may be plaited in a pig-tail, the length of which is augmented by a strange device of coloured wool with which the ends of the hair are interwoven. But children of the better class in Morocco are accustomed to keep in the background, and unless invited, do not venture farther than the door of the reception room, and then with a becoming modesty. If any of the slave-wives enter, you will have an opportunity of noticing their somewhat quaint greeting of those whom they desire to honour, a kiss bestowed on each hand, which they raise to meet their lips, and upon each shoulder, before they, too, take their seats upon the mattresses.

Probably you will not have long to wait before a slave-girl enters with the preparations for tea, orange-flower water, incense, a well-filled tray, a samovar, and two or three dishes piled high with cakes. If you are wise, you will most assuredly try the "gazelle's hoofs," so-called from their shape, for they are a most delicious compound of almond paste, with a spiciness so skilfully blended as to be almost elusive. If you have a sweet tooth, the honey cakes will be eminently satisfactory, but if your taste is plainer, you will enjoy the f'kákis,[page 86] or dry biscuit. Three cups of their most fragrant tea is the orthodox allowance, but a Moorish host or hostess is not slow to perceive any disinclination, however slight, and will sometimes of his or her own accord pave your way to a courteous refusal, by appearing not over anxious either for the last cup.

If you have already had an experience of dining in Morocco, the whole process of the tea-making will be familiar; if not, you will be interested to notice how the tea ("gunpowder") is measured in the hand, then emptied into the pot, washed, thoroughly sweetened, made with boiling water from the samovar, and flavoured with mint or verbena. If the master of the house is present, he is apt to keep the tea-making in his own hands, although he may delegate it to one of his wives, who thus becomes the hostess of the occasion.

After general inquiries as to the purpose of your visit to Morocco, you may be asked if you are a tabeebah or lady doctor, the one profession which they know, by hearsay at least, is open to women. If you can claim ever so little knowledge, you will probably be asked for a prescription to promote an increase of adipose tissue, which they consider their greatest charm; perhaps a still harder riddle may be propounded, with the hope that its satisfactory solution may secure to them the wavering affection of their lord, and prevent alienation and, perhaps, divorce. Yet all you can say is, "In shá Allah" (If God will!)

When you bid them farewell it will be with a keen realization of their narrow, cramped lives, and an appreciation of your own opportunities. Did[page 87] you but know it, they too are full of sympathy for that poor, over-strained Nazarene woman, who is obliged to leave the shelter of her four walls, and face the world unveiled, unprotected, unabashed.

And thus our proverb is proved true.

[*] Contributed by my wife.—B. M.

[page 88]

IX

A COUNTRY WEDDING

"Silence is at the door of consent."

Moorish Proverb.

Thursday was chosen as auspicious for the wedding, but the ceremonies commenced on the Sunday before. The first item on an extensive programme was the visit of the bride with her immediate female relatives and friends to the steam bath at the kasbah, a rarity in country villages, in this case used only by special favour. At the close of an afternoon of fun and frolic in the bath-house, Zóharah, the bride, was escorted to her home closely muffled, to keep her bed till the following day.

Next morning it was the duty of Mokhtar, the bridegroom, to send his betrothed a bullock, with oil, butter and onions; pepper, salt and spices; charcoal and wood; figs, raisins, dates and almonds; candles and henna, wherewith to prepare the marriage feast. He had already, according to the custom of the country, presented the members of her family with slippers and ornaments. As soon as the bullock arrived it was killed amid great rejoicings and plenty of "tom-tom," especially as in the villages a sheep is usually considered sufficient provision. On this day Mokhtar's male[page 89] friends enjoyed a feast in the afternoon, while in the evening the bride had to undergo the process of re-staining with henna to the accompaniment of music. The usual effect of this was somewhat counteracted, however, by the wails of those who had lost relatives during the year. On each successive night, when the drumming began, the same sad scene was repeated—a strange alloy in all the merriment of the wedding.

On the Tuesday Zóharah received her maiden friends, children attending the reception in the afternoon, till the none too roomy hut was crowded to suffocation, and the bride exhausted, although custom prescribed that she should lie all day on the bed, closely wrapped up, and seen by none of her guests, from whom she was separated by a curtain. Every visitor had brought with her some little gift, such as handkerchiefs, candles, sugar, tea, spices and dried fruits, the inspection of which, when all were gone, was her only diversion that day. Throughout that afternoon and the next the neighbouring villages rivalled one another in peaceful sport and ear-splitting ululation, as though, within the memory of man, no other state of things had ever existed between them.

Meanwhile Mokhtar had a more enlivening time with his bachelor friends, who, after feasting with him in the evening, escorted him, wrapped in a háïk or shawl, to the house of his betrothed, outside which they danced and played for three or four hours by the light of lanterns. On returning home, much fun ensued round the supper-basin on the floor, while the palms of the whole company were stained with henna. Then their exuberant spirits[page 90] found relief in dancing round with basins on their heads, till one of them dropped his basin, and snatching off Mokhtar's cloak as if for protection, was immediately chased by the others till supper was ready. After supper all lay back to sleep. For four days the bridegroom's family had thus to feast and amuse his male friends, while the ladies were entertained by that of the bride.

On Wednesday came the turn of the married women visitors, whose bulky forms crowded the hut, if possible more closely than had their children. Gossip and scandal were now retailed with a zest and minuteness of detail not permissible in England, while rival belles waged wordy war in shouts which sounded like whispers amid the din. The walls of the hut were hung with the brightest coloured garments that could be borrowed, and the gorgeous finery of the guests made up a scene of dazzling colour. Green tea and cakes were first passed round, and then a tray for offerings for the musicians, which, when collected, were placed on the floor beneath a rich silk handkerchief. Presents were also made by all to the bride's mother, on behalf of her daughter, who sat in weary state on the bed at one end of the room. As each coin was put down for the players, or for the hostess, a portly female who acted as crier announced the sum contributed, with a prayer for blessing in return, which was in due course echoed by the chief musician. At the bridegroom's house a similar entertainment was held, the party promenading the lanes at dusk with torches and lanterns, after which they received from the bridegroom the powder for next day's play.

[page 91]

Thursday opened with much-needed rest for Zóharah and her mother till the time came for the final decking; but Mokhtar had to go to the bath with his bachelor friends, and on returning to his newly prepared dwelling, to present many of them with small coins, receiving in return cotton handkerchiefs and towels, big candles and matches. Then all sat down to a modest repast, for which he had provided raisins and other dried fruits, some additional fun being provided by a number of the married neighbours, who tried in vain to gain admission, and in revenge made off with other people's shoes, ultimately returning them full of dried fruits and nuts. Then Mokhtar's head was shaved to the accompaniment of music, and the barber was feasted, while the box in which the bride was to be fetched was brought in, and decked with muslin curtains, surmounted by a woman's head-gear, handkerchiefs, and a sash. The box was about two and a half feet square, and somewhat more in height, including its pointed top.

After three drummings to assemble the friends, a procession was formed about a couple of hours after sunset, lit by torches, lanterns and candles, led by the powder-players, followed by the mounted bridegroom, and behind him the bridal box lashed on the back of a horse; surrounded by more excited powder-players, and closed by the musicians. As they proceeded by a circuitous route the women shrieked, the powder spoke, till all were roused to a fitting pitch of fervour, and so reached the house of the bride. "Behold, the bridegroom cometh!"

[page 92]

Presently the "litter" was deposited at the door, Mokhtar remaining a short distance off, while the huge old negress, who had officiated so far as mistress of the ceremonies, lifted Zóharah bodily off the bed, and placed her, crying, in the cage. In this a loaf of bread, a candle, some sugar and salt had been laid by way of securing good luck in her new establishment. Her valuables, packed in another box, were entrusted to the negress, who was to walk by her side, while strong arms mounted her, and lashed the "amariah" in its place. As soon as the procession had reformed, the music ceased, and a Fátihah[^*] was solemnly recited. Then they started slowly, as they had come, Mokhtar leaving his bride as she was ushered, closely veiled, from her box into her new home, contenting himself with standing by the side and letting her pass beneath his arm in token of submission. The door was then closed, and the bridegroom took a turn with his friends while the bride should compose herself, and all things be made ready by the negress. Later on he returned, and being admitted, the newly married couple met at last.

Next day they were afforded a respite, but on Saturday the bride had once more to hold a reception, and on the succeeding Thursday came the ceremony of donning the belt, a long, stiff band of embroidered silk, folded to some six inches in width, wound many times round. Standing over a dish containing almonds, raisins, figs, dates, and a couple of eggs, in the presence of a gathering of married women, one of whom assisted in the winding, two small boys adjusted the sash with[page 93] all due state, after which a procession was formed round the house, and the actual wedding was over. Thus commenced a year's imprisonment for the bride, as it was not till she was herself a mother that she was permitted to revisit her old home.

[*] The beautiful opening prayer of the Korán.

[page 94]

X

THE BAIRNS

"Every monkey is a gazelle to its mother."

Moorish Proverb.

If there is one point in the character of the Moor which commends itself above others to the mind of the European it is his love for his children. But when it is observed that in too many cases this love is unequally divided, and that the father prefers his sons to his daughters, our admiration is apt to wane. Though by no means an invariable rule, this is the most common outcome of the pride felt in being the father of a son who may be a credit to the house, and the feeling that a daughter who has to be provided for is an added responsibility.

All is well when the two tiny children play together on the floor, and quarrel on equal terms, but it is another thing when little Hamed goes daily to school, and as soon as he has learned to read is brought home in triumph on a gaily dressed horse, heading a procession of shouting schoolfellows, while his pretty sister Fátimah is fast developing into a maid-of-all-work whom nobody thinks of noticing. And the distinction widens when Hamed rides in the "powder-play," or is trusted to keep shop by himself, while Fátimah is closely veiled and kept a prisoner indoors, body and mind[page 95] unexercised, distinguishable by colour and dress alone from Habîbah, the ebony slave-girl, who was sold like a calf from her mother's side. Yes, indeed, far different paths lie before the two play-mates, but while they are treated alike, let us take a peep at them in their innocent sweetness.

Their mother, Ayeshah, went out as usual one morning to glean in the fields, and in the evening returned with two bundles upon her back; the upper one was to replace crowing Hamed in his primitive cradle: it was Fátimah. Next day, as Ayeshah set off to work again, she left her son kicking up his heels on a pile of blankets, howling till he should become acquainted with his new surroundings, and a little skinny mite lay peacefully sleeping where he had hitherto lived. No mechanical bassinette ever swung more evenly, and no soft draperies made a better cot than the sheet tied up by the corners to a couple of ropes, and swung across the room like a hammock. The beauty of it was that, roll as he would, even active Hamed had been safe in it, and all his energies only served to rock him off to sleep again, for the sides almost met at the top. Yet he was by no means dull, for through a hole opposite his eye he could watch the cows and goats and sheep as they wandered about the yard, not to speak of the cocks and hens that roamed all over the place.

At last the time came when both the wee ones could toddle, and Ayeshah carried them no more to the fields astride her hips or slung over her shoulders in a towel. They were then left to disport themselves as they pleased—which, of course, meant rolling about on the ground,—their garments tied up[page 96] under their arms, leaving them bare from the waist. No wonder that sitting on cold and wet stones had threatened to shrivel up their thin legs, which looked wonderfully shaky at best.

It seems to be a maxim among the Moors that neither head, arms nor legs suffer in any way from exposure to cold or heat, and the mothers of the poorer classes think nothing of carrying their children slung across their backs with their little bare pates exposed to the sun and rain, or of allowing their lower limbs to become numbed with cold as just described. The sole recommendation of such a system is that only the fittest—in a certain sense—survive. Of the attention supposed to be bestowed in a greater or less degree upon all babes in our own land they get little. One result, however, is satisfactory, for they early give up yelling, as an amusement which does not pay, and no one is troubled to march them up and down for hours when teething. Yet it is hardly surprising that under such conditions infant mortality is very great, and, indeed, all through life in this doctorless land astonishing numbers are carried off by diseases we should hardly consider dangerous.

Beyond the much-enjoyed dandle on Father's knee, or the cuddle with Mother, delights are few in Moorish child-life, and of toys such as we have they know nothing, whatever they may find to take their place. But when a boy is old enough to amuse himself, there is no end to the mischief and fun he will contrive, and the lads of Barbary are as fond of their games as we of ours. You may see them racing about after school hours at a species of "catch-as-catch-can," or playing[page 97] football with their heels, or spinning tops, sometimes of European make. Or, dearest sport of all, racing a donkey while seated on its far hind quarters, with all the noise and enjoyment we threw into such pastimes a few years ago. To look at the merry faces of these lively youths, and to hear their cheery voices, is sufficient to convince anyone of their inherent capabilities, which might make them easily a match for English lads if they had their chances.

But what chances have they? At the age of four or five they are drafted off to school, not to be educated, but to be taught to read by rote, and to repeat long chapters of the Korán, if not the whole volume, by heart, hardly understanding what they read. Beyond this little is taught but the four great rules of arithmetic in the figures which we have borrowed from them, but worked out in the most primitive style. In "long" multiplication, for instance, they write every figure down, and "carry" nothing, so that a much more formidable addition than need be has to conclude the calculation. But they have a quaint system of learning their multiplication tables by mnemonics, in which every number is represented by a letter, and these being made up into words, are committed to memory in place of the figures.

A Moorish school is a simple affair. No forms, no desks, few books. A number of boards about the size of foolscap, painted white on both sides, on which the various lessons—from the alphabet to portions of the Korán—are plainly written in large black letters; a switch or two, a pen and ink and a book, complete the furnishings. The dominie,[page 98] squatted tailor-fashion on the ground, like his pupils, who may number from ten to thirty, repeats the lesson in a sonorous sing-song voice, and is imitated by the little urchins, who accompany their voices by a rocking to and fro, which occasionally enables them to keep time. A sharp application of the switch is wonderfully effectual in re-calling wandering attention. Lazy boys are speedily expelled.

On the admission of a pupil the parents pay some small sum, varying according to their means, and every Wednesday, which is a half-holiday, a payment is made from a farthing to twopence. New moons and feasts are made occasions for larger payments, and count as holidays, which last ten days on the occasion of the greater festivals. Thursday is a whole holiday, and no work is done on Friday morning, that being the Mohammedan Sabbath, or at least "meeting day," as it is called.

At each successive stage of the scholastic career the schoolmaster parades the pupils one by one, if at all well-to-do, in the style already alluded to, collecting gifts from the grateful parents to supplement the few coppers the boys bring to school week by week. If they intend to become notaries or judges, they go on to study at Fez, where they purchase the key of a room at one of the colleges, and read to little purpose for several years. In everything the Korán is the standard work. The chapters therein being arranged without any idea of sequence, only according to length,—with the exception of the Fátihah,—the longest at the beginning and the shortest at the end, after the first the last is learned, and so backwards to the second.

[page 99]

Most of the lads are expected to do something to earn their bread at quite an early age, in one way or another, even if not called on to assist their parents in something which requires an old head on young shoulders. Such youths being so early independent, at least in a measure, mix with older lads, who soon teach them all the vices they have not already learned, in which they speedily become as adept as their parents.

Those intended for a mercantile career are put into the shop at twelve or fourteen, and after some experience in weighing-out and bargaining by the side of a father or elder brother, they are left entirely to themselves, being supplied with goods from the main shop as they need them.

It is by this means that the multitudinous little box-shops which are a feature of the towns are enabled to pay their way, this being rendered possible by an expensive minutely retail trade. The average English tradesman is a wholesale dealer compared to these petty retailers, and very many middle-class English households take in sufficient supplies at a time to stock one of their shops. One reason for this is the hand-to-mouth manner in which the bulk of the people live, with no notion of thrift. They earn their day's wage, and if anything remains above the expense of living, it is invested in gay clothing or jimcracks. Another reason is that those who could afford it have seldom any member of their household whom they can trust as housekeeper, of which more anon.

It seems ridiculous to send for sugar, tea, etc., by the ounce or less; candles, boxes of matches, etc., one by one; needles, thread, silk, in like proportion,[page 100] even when cash is available, but such is the practice here, and there is as much haggling over the price of one candle as over that of an expensive article of clothing. Often quite little children, who elsewhere would be considered babes, are sent out to do the shopping, and these cheapen and bargain like the sharpest old folk, with what seems an inherent talent.

Very little care is taken of even the children of the rich, and they get no careful training. The little sons and daughters of quite important personages are allowed to run about as neglected and dirty as those of the very poor. Hence the practice of shaving the head cannot be too highly praised in a country where so much filth abounds, and where cutaneous diseases of the worst type are so frequent. It is, however, noteworthy that while the Moors do not seem to consider it any disgrace to be scarred and covered with disgusting sores, the result of their own sins and those of their fathers, they are greatly ashamed of any ordinary skin disease on the head. But though the shaven skulls are the distinguishing feature of the boys in the house, where their dress closely resembles that of their sisters, the girls may be recognized by their ample locks, often dyed to a fashionable red with henna; yet they, too, are often partially shaved, sometimes in a fantastic style. It may be the hair in front is cut to a fringe an inch long over the forehead, and a strip a quarter of an inch wide is shaved just where the visible part of a child's comb would come, while behind this the natural frizzy or straight hair is left, cut short, while the head is shaved again round the ears and at the back of the [page 101] neck. To perform these operations a barber is called in, who attends the family regularly. Little boys of certain tribes have long tufts left hanging behind their ears, and occasionally they also have their heads shaved in strange devices.

Since no attempt is made to bring the children up as useful members of the community at the age when they are most susceptible, they are allowed to run wild. Thus, bright and tractable as they are naturally, no sooner do the lads approach the end of their 'teens, than a marked change comes over them, a change which even the most casual observer cannot fail to notice. The hitherto agreeable youths appear washed-out and worthless. All their energy has disappeared, and from this time till a second change takes place for the worse, large numbers drag out a weary existence, victims of vices which hold them in their grip, till as if burned up by a fierce but short-lived fire, they ultimately become seared and shattered wrecks. From this time every effort is made to fan the flickering or extinguished flame, till death relieves the weary mortal of the burden of his life.

[page 102]

XI

"DINING OUT"[^*]

"A good supper is known by its odour."

Moorish Proverb.

There are no more important qualifications for the diner-out in Morocco than an open mind and a teachable spirit. Then start with a determination to forget European table manners, except in so far as they are based upon consideration for the feelings of others, setting yourself to do in Morocco as the Moors do, and you cannot fail to gain profit and pleasure from your experience.

One slight difficulty arises from the fact that it is somewhat hard to be sure at any time that you have been definitely invited to partake of a Moorish meal. A request that you would call at three o'clock in the afternoon, mid-way between luncheon and dinner, would seem an unusual hour for a heavy repast, yet that is no guarantee that you may not be expected to partake freely of an elaborate feast.

If you are a member of the frail, fair sex, the absence of all other women will speedily arouse you to the fact that you are in an oriental country, for in Morocco the sons and chief servants, though they eat after the master of the house, take precedence of the wives and women-folk, who eat what remains of[page 103] the various dishes, or have specially prepared meals in their own apartments. For the same reason you need not be surprised if you are waited upon after the men of the party, though this order is sometimes reversed where the host is familiar with European etiquette with regard to women. If a man, perhaps a son will wait upon you.

The well-bred Moor is quite as great a stickler for the proprieties as the most conservative Anglo-Saxon, and you will do well if you show consideration at the outset by removing your shoes at the door of the room, turning a deaf ear to his assurance that such a proceeding is quite unnecessary on your part. A glance round the room will make it clear that your courtesy will be appreciated, for the carpet on the floor is bright and unmarked by muddy or dusty shoes (in spite of the condition of the streets outside), and the mattresses upon which you are invited to sit are immaculate in their whiteness.

Having made yourself comfortable, you will admire the arrangements for the first item upon the programme. The slave-girl appears with a handsome tray, brass or silver, upon which there are a goodly number of cups or tiny glass tumblers, frequently both, of delicate pattern and artistic colouring, a silver tea-pot, a caddy of green tea, a silver or glass bowl filled with large, uneven lumps of sugar, which have been previously broken off from the loaf, and a glass containing sprigs of mint and verbena. The brass samovar comes next, and having measured the tea in the palm of his right hand, and put it into the pot, the host proceeds to pour a small amount of boiling water upon it, which he straightway pours off, a precaution lest the Nazarenes should[page 104] have mingled some colouring matter therewith. He then adds enough sugar to ensure a semi-syrupy result, with some sprigs of peppermint, and fills the pot from the samovar. A few minutes later he pours out a little, which he tastes himself, frequently returning the remainder to the pot, although the more Europeanized consume the whole draught. If the test has been satisfactory, he proceeds to fill the cups or glasses, passing them in turn to the guests in order of distinction. To make a perceptible noise in drawing it from the glass to the mouth is esteemed a delicate token of appreciation.

The tray is then removed; the slave in attendance brings a chased brass basin and ewer of water, and before the serious portion of the meal begins you are expected to hold out your right hand just to cleanse it from any impurities which may have been contracted in coming. Orange-flower water in a silver sprinkler is then brought in, followed by a brass incense burner filled with live charcoal, on which a small quantity of sandal-wood or other incense is placed, and the result is a delicious fragrance which you are invited to waft by a circular motion of your hands into your hair, your ribbons and your laces, while your Moorish host finds the folds of his loose garments invaluable for the retention of the spicy perfume.

A circular table about eight inches high is then placed in the centre of the guests; on this is placed a tray with the first course of the dinner, frequently puffs of delicate pastry fried in butter over a charcoal fire, and containing sometimes meat, sometimes a delicious compound of almond paste and cinnamon. This, being removed, is followed by a succession of[page 105] savoury stews with rich, well-flavoured gravies, each with its own distinctive spiciness, but all excellently cooked. The host first dips a fragment of bread into the gravy, saying as he does so, "B'ísm Illah!" ("In the name of God!"), which the guests repeat, as each follows suit with a sop from the dish.

There is abundant scope for elegance of gesture in the eating of the stews, but still greater opportunity when the pièce de résistance of a Moorish dinner, the dish of kesk'soo, is brought on. This kesk'soo is a small round granule prepared from semolina, which, having been steamed, is served like rice beneath and round an excellent stew, which is heaped up in the centre of the dish. With the thumb and two first fingers of the right hand you are expected to secure some succulent morsel from the stew,—meat, raisins, onions, or vegetable marrow,—and with it a small quantity of the kesk'soo. By a skilful motion of the palm the whole is formed into a round ball, which is thrown with a graceful curve of hand and wrist into the mouth. Woe betide you if your host is possessed by the hospitable desire to make one of these boluses for you, for he is apt to measure the cubic content of your mouth by that of his own, and for a moment your feelings will be too deep for words; but this is only a brief discomfort, and you will find the dish an excellent one, for Moorish cooks never serve tough meat.

If your fingers have suffered from contact with the kesk'soo, it is permitted to you to apply your tongue to each digit in turn in the following order; fourth (or little finger), second, thumb, third, first; but a few moments later the slave appears, and after bearing away the table with the remains of the feast[page 106] gives the opportunity for a most satisfactory ablution. In this case you are expected to use soap, and to wash both hands, over which water is poured three times. If you are at all acquainted with Moorish ways, you will not fail at the same time to apply soap and water to your mouth both outwardly and inwardly, being careful to rinse it three times with plenty of noise, ejecting the water behind your hand into the basin which is held before you.

Orange-flower water and incense now again appear, and you may be required to drink three more glasses of refreshing tea, though this is sometimes omitted at the close of a repast. Of course "the feast of reason and the flow of soul" have not been lacking, and you have been repeatedly assured of your welcome, and invited to partake beyond the limit of human possibility, for the Moor believes you can pay no higher compliment to the dainties he has provided than by their consumption.

For a while you linger, reclining upon the mattress as gracefully as may be possible for a tyro, with your arm upon a pile of many-coloured cushions of embroidered leather or cloth. Then, after a thousand mutual thanks and blessings, accompanied by graceful bowings and bendings, you say farewell and step to the door, where your slippers await you, and usher yourself out, not ill-satisfied with your initiation into the art of dining-out in Barbary.

[*] Contributed by my wife.—B. M.

[page 107]

XII

DOMESTIC ECONOMY

"Manage with bread and butter till God sends the jam."

Moorish Proverb.

If the ordinary regulations of social life among the Moors differ materially from those in force among ourselves, how much more so must the minor details of the housekeeping when, to begin with, the husband does the marketing and keeps the keys! And the consequential Moor does, indeed, keep the keys, not only of the stores, but also often of the house. What would an English lady think of being coolly locked in a windowless house while her husband went for a journey, the provisions for the family being meanwhile handed in each morning through a loophole by a trusty slave left as gaoler? That no surprise whatever would be elicited in Barbary by such an arrangement speaks volumes. Woman has no voice under Mohammed's creed.

Early in the morning let us take a stroll into the market, and see how things are managed there. Round the inside of a high-walled enclosure is a row of the rudest of booths. Over portions of the pathway, stretching across to other booths in the centre—if the market is a wide one—are pieces of cloth, vines on trellis, or canes interwoven with brushwood. As the sun gains strength these afford[page 108] a most grateful shade, and during the heat of the day there is no more pleasant place for a stroll, and none more full of characteristic life. In the wider parts, on the ground, lie heaps two or three feet high of mint, verbena and lemon thyme, the much-esteemed flavourings for the national drink—green-tea syrup—exhaling a most delicious fragrance. It is early summer: the luscious oranges are not yet over, and in tempting piles they lie upon the stalls made of old packing-cases, many with still legible familiar English and French inscriptions. Apricots are selling at a halfpenny or less the pound, and plums and damsons, not to speak of greengages, keep good pace with them in price and sales. The bright tints of the lettuces and other fresh green vegetables serve to set off the rich colours of the God-made delicacies, but the prevailing hue of the scene is a restful earth-brown, an autumnal leaf-tint; the trodden ground, the sun-dried brush-wood of the booths and awnings, and the wet-stained wood-work. No glamour of paint or gleam of glass destroys the harmony of the surroundings.

But with all the feeling of cool and repose, rest there is not, or idleness, for there is not a brisker scene in an oriental town than its market-place. Thronging those narrow pathways come the rich and poor—the portly merchant in his morning cloak, a spotless white wool jelláb, with a turban and girth which bespeak easy circumstances; the labourer in just such a cloak with the hood up, but one which was always brown, and is now much mended; the slave in shirt and drawers, with a string round his shaven pate; the keen little Jew[page 109] boy pushing and bargaining as no other could; the bearded son of Israel, with piercing eyes, and his daughter with streaming hair; lastly, the widow or time-worn wife of the poor Mohammedan, who must needs market for herself. Her wrinkled face and care-worn look tell a different tale from the pompous self-content of the merchant by her side, who drives as hard a bargain as she does. In his hand he carries a palmetto-leaf basket, already half full, as with slippered feet he carefully picks his way among puddles and garbage.

"Good morning, O my master; God bless thee!" exclaims the stall-keeper as his customer comes in sight.

Sáïd el Faráji has to buy cloth of the merchant time and time again, so makes a point of pleasing one who can return a kindness.

"No ill, praise God; and thyself, O Sáïd?" comes the cheery reply; then, after five minutes' mutual inquiry after one another's household, horses and other interests, health and general welfare, friend Sáïd points out the daintiest articles on his stall, and in the most persuasive of tones names his "lowest price."

All the while he is sitting cross-legged on an old box, with his scales before him.

"What? Now, come, I'll give you so much," says the merchant, naming a price slightly less than that asked.

"Make it so much," exclaims Sáïd, even more persuasively than before, as he "splits the difference."

"Well, I'll give you so much," offering just a little less than this sum. "I can't go above that, you know."

[page 110]

"All right, but you always get the better of me, you know. That is just what I paid. Anyhow, don't forget that when I want a new cloak," and he proceeds to measure out the purchases, using as weights two or three bits of old iron, a small cannon-ball, some bullets, screws, coins, etc. "Go with prosperity, my friend; and may God bless thee!"

"And may God increase thy prosperity, and grant to thee a blessing!" rejoins the successful man, as he proceeds to another stall.

By the time he reaches home his basket will contain meat, fish, vegetables, fruit and herbs, besides, perhaps, a loaf of sugar, and a quarter of a pound of tea, with supplies of spices and some candles. Bread they make at home.

The absurdly minute quantities of what we should call "stores," which a man will purchase who could well afford to lay in a supply, seem very strange to the foreigner; but it is part of his domestic economy—or lack of that quality. He will not trust his wife with more than one day's supply at a time, and to weigh things out himself each morning would be trouble not to be dreamed of; besides which it would deprive him of the pleasure of all that bargaining, not to speak of the appetite-promoting stroll, and the opportunities for gossip with acquaintances which it affords. In consequence, wives and slaves are generally kept on short allowances, if these are granted at all.

An amusing incident which came under my notice in Tangier shows how little the English idea of the community of interest of husband and wife is appreciated here. A Moorish woman who[page 111] used to furnish milk to an English family being met by the lady of the house one morning, when she had brought short measure, said, pointing to the husband in the distance, "You be my friend; take this" (slipping a few coppers worth half a farthing into her hand), "don't tell him anything about it. I'll share the profit with you!" She probably knew from experience that the veriest trifle would suffice to buy over the wife of a Moor.

Instructions having been given to his wife or wives as to what is to be prepared, and how—he probably pretends to know more of the art culinary than he does—the husband will start off to attend to his shop till lunch, which will be about noon. Then a few more hours in the shop, and before the sun sets a ride out to his garden by the river, returning in time for dinner at seven, after which come talk, prayers, and bed, completing what is more or less his daily round. His wives will probably be assisted in the house-work—or perhaps entirely relieved of it—by a slave-girl or two, and the water required will be brought in on the shoulders of a stalwart negro in skins or barrels filled from some fountain of good repute, but of certain contamination.

In cooking the Moorish women excel, as their first-rate productions afford testimony. It is the custom of some Europeans to systematically disparage native preparations, but such judges have been the victims either of their own indiscretion in eating too many rich things without the large proportion of bread or other digestible nutriment which should have accompanied them, or of the essays of their own servants, usually men without any more knowledge of how their mothers prepare the dishes they[page 112] attempt to imitate than an ordinary English working man would have of similar matters. Of course there are certain flavourings which to many are really objectionable, but none can be worse to us than any preparation of pig would be to a Moor. Prominent among such is the ancient butter which forms the basis of much of their spicings, butter made from milk, which has been preserved—usually buried a year or two—till it has acquired the taste, and somewhat the appearance, of ripe Gorgonzola. Those who commence by trying a very slight flavour of this will find the fancy grow upon them, and there is no smell so absolutely appetizing as the faintest whiff of anything being cooked in this butter, called "smin."

Another point, much misunderstood, which enables them to cook the toughest old rooster or plough-ox joint till it can be eaten readily with the fingers, is the stewing in oil or butter. When the oil itself is pure and fresh, it imparts no more taste to anything cooked in it than does the fresh butter used by the rich. Articles plunged into either at their high boiling point are immediately browned and enclosed in a kind of case, with a result which can be achieved in no other manner than by rolling in paste or clay, and cooking amid embers. Moorish pastry thus cooked in oil is excellent, flaky and light.

[page 113]

XIII

THE NATIVE "MERCHANT"

"A turban without a beard shows lack of modesty."

Moorish Proverb.

Háj Mohammed Et-Tájir, a grey-bearded worthy, who looks like a prince when he walks abroad, and dwells in a magnificent house, sits during business hours on a diminutive tick and wool mattress, on the floor of a cob-webbed room on one side of an ill-paved, uncovered, dirty court-yard. Light and air are admitted by the door in front of which he sits, while the long side behind him, the two ends, and much of the floor, are packed with valuable cloths, Manchester goods, silk, etc. Two other sides of the court-yard consist of similar stores, one occupied by a couple of Jews, and the other by another fine-looking Háj, his partner.

Enters a Moor, in common clothing, market basket in hand. He advances to the entrance of the store, and salutes the owner respectfully—"Peace be with thee, Uncle Pilgrim!"

"With thee be peace, O my master," is the reply, and the new-comer is handed a cushion, and motioned to sit on it at the door. "How doest thou?" "How fares thy house?" "How dost thou find thyself this morning?" "Is nothing wrong with thee?" These and similar inquiries[page 114] are showered by each on the other, and an equal abundance is returned of such replies as, "Nothing wrong;" "Praise be to God;" "All is well."

When both cease for lack of breath, after a brief pause the new arrival asks, "Have you any of that 'Merican?" (unbleached calico). The dealer puts on an indignant air, as if astonished at being asked such a question. "Have I? There is no counting what I have of it," and he commences to tell his beads, trying to appear indifferent as to whether his visitor buys or not. Presently the latter, also anxious not to appear too eager, exclaims, "Let's look at it." A piece is leisurely handed down, and the customer inquires in a disparaging tone, "How much?"

"Six and a half," and the speaker again appears absorbed in meditation.

"Give thee six," says the customer, rising as if to go.

"Wait, thou art very dear to us; to thee alone will I give a special price, six and a quarter."

"No, no," replies the customer, shaking his finger before his face, as though to emphasize his refusal of even such special terms.

"Al-l-láh!" piously breathes the dealer, as he gazes abstractedly out of the door, presently adding in the same devout tone, "There is no god but God! God curse the infidels!"

"Come, I'll give thee six and an okea"—of which latter six and a half go to the 'quarter' peseta or franc of which six were offered.

"No, six and five is the lowest I can take."

The might-be purchaser made his last offer in a half-rising posture, and is now nearly erect as he[page 115] says, "Then I can't buy; give it me for six and three," sitting down as though the bargain were struck.

"No, I never sell that quality for less than six and four, and it's a thing I make no profit on; you know that."

The customer doesn't look as though he did, and rising, turns to go.

"Send a man to carry it away," says the dealer.

"At six and three!"

"No, at six and four!" and the customer goes away.

"Send the man, it is thine," is hastily called after him, and in a few moments he returns with a Jewish porter, and pays his "six and three."

So our worthy trader does business all day, and seems to thrive on it. Occasionally a friend drops in to chat and not to buy, and now and then there is a beggar; here is one.

An aged crone she is, of most forbidding countenance, swathed in rags, it is a wonder she can keep together. She leans on a formidable staff, and in a piteous voice, "For the face of the Lord," and "In the name of my Lord Slave-of-the-Able" (Mulai Abd el Káder, a favourite saint), she begs something "For God." One copper suffices to induce her to call down untold blessings on the head of the donor, and she trudges away in the mud, barefooted, repeating her entreaties till they sound almost a wail, as she turns the next corner. But beggars who can be so easily disposed of at the rate of a hundred and ninety-five for a shilling can hardly be considered troublesome.

A respectable-looking man next walks in with[page 116] measured tread, and leaning towards us, says almost in a whisper—

"O Friend of the Prophet, is there anything to-day?"

"Nothing, O my master," is the courteously toned reply, for the beggar appears to be a shareef or noble, and with a "God bless thee," disappears.

A miserable wretch now turns up, and halfway across the yard begins to utter a whine which is speedily cut short by a curt "God help thee!" whereat the visitor turns on his heel and is gone.

With a confident bearing an untidy looking figure enters a moment later, and after due salaams inquires for a special kind of cloth.

"Call to-morrow morning," he is told, for he has not the air of a purchaser, and he takes his departure meekly.

A creaky voice here breaks in from round the corner—

"Hast thou not a copper for the sake of the Lord?"

"No, O my brother."

After a few minutes another female comes on the scene, exhibiting enough of her face to show that it is a mass of sores.

"Only a trifle, in the name of my lord Idrees," she cries, and turns away on being told, "God bring it!"

Then comes a policeman, a makházni, who seats himself amid a shower of salutations—

"Hast thou any more of those selháms" (hooded cloaks)?

"Come on the morrow, and thou shalt see."

The explanation of this answer given by the[page 117] "merchant" is that he sees such folk only mean to bother him for nothing.

And this appears to be the daily routine of "business," though a good bargain must surely be made some time to have enabled our friend to acquire all the property he has, but so far as an outsider can judge, it must be a slow process. Anyhow, it has heartily tired the writer, who has whiled away the morning penning this account on a cushion on one side of the shop described. Yet it is a fair specimen of what has been observed by him on many a morning in this sleepy land.

[page 118]

XIV

SHOPPING[^*]

"Debt destroys religion."

Moorish Proverb.

If any should imagine that time is money in Morocco, let them undertake a shopping expedition in Tangier, the town on which, if anywhere in Morocco, occidental energy has set its seal. Not that one such excursion will suffice, unless, indeed, the purchaser be of the class who have more money than wit, or who are absolutely at the mercy of the guide and interpreter who pockets a commission upon every bargain he brings about. For the ordinary mortal, who wants to spread his dollars as far as it is possible for dollars to go, a tour of inspection, if not two or three, will be necessary before such a feat can be accomplished. To be sure, there is always the risk that between one visit and another some coveted article may find its way into the hands of a more reckless, or at least less thrifty, purchaser, but that risk may be safely taken.

There is something very attractive in the small cupboard-like shops of the main street. Their[page 119] owners sit cross-legged ready for a chat, looking wonderfully picturesque in cream-coloured jelláb, or in semi-transparent white farrajîyah, or tunic, allowing at the throat a glimpse of saffron, cerise, or green from the garment beneath. The white turban, beneath which shows a line of red Fez cap, serves as a foil to the clear olive complexion and the dark eyes and brows, while the faces are in general goodly to look upon, except where the lines have grown coarse and sensuous.

So strong is the impression of elegant leisure, that it is difficult to imagine that these men expect to make a living from their trade, but they are more than willing to display their goods, and will doubtless invite you to a seat upon the shop ledge—where your feet dangle gracefully above a rough cobble-stone pavement—and sometimes even to a cup of tea. One after another, in quick succession, carpets of different dimensions (but all oblong, for Moorish rooms are narrow in comparison with their length) are spread out in the street, and the shop-owners' satellite, by reiterated cries of "Bálak! Bálak!" (Mind out! Mind out!) accompanied by persuasive pushes, keeps off the passing donkeys. A miniature crowd of interested spectators will doubtless gather round you, making remarks upon you and your purchases. Charmed by the artistic colourings, rich but never garish, you ask the price, and if you are wise you will immediately offer just half of that named. It is quite probable that the carpets will be folded up and returned to their places upon the shelf at the back of the shop, but it is equally probable that by slow and tactful yielding upon either side, interspersed with curses upon your[page 120] ancestors and upon yourself, the bargain will be struck about halfway between the two extremes.

The same method must be adopted with every article bought, and if you purpose making many purchases in the same shop, you will be wise to obtain and write down the price quoted in each case as "the very lowest," and make your bid for the whole at once, lest, made cunning by one experience of your tactics, the shopman should put on a wider marginal profit in every other instance to circumvent you. It is also well for the purchaser to express ardent admiration in tones of calm indifference, for the Moor has quick perceptions, and though he may not understand English, when enthusiasm is apparent, he has the key to the situation, and refuses to lower his prices.

Nevertheless, it is sometimes difficult to avoid a warm expression of admiration at the handsome brass trays, the Morocco leather bags into which such charming designs of contrasting colours are skilfully introduced, or the graceful utensils of copper and brass with which a closer acquaintance was made when you were the guest at a Moorish dinner. Many and interesting are the curious trifles which may be purchased, but they will be found in the greatest profusion in the bazaars established for the convenience of Nazarene tourists, where prices will frequently be named in English money, for an English "yellow-boy" is nowhere better appreciated than in Tangier.

In the shops in the sôk, or market-place, prices are sometimes more moderate, and there you may discover some of the more distinctively Moorish articles, which are brought in from the country; [page 121] nor can there be purchased a more interesting memento than a flint-lock, a pistol, or a carved dagger, all more or less elaborately decorated, such as are carried by town or country Moor, the former satisfied with a dagger in its chased sheath, except at the time of "powder-play," when flint-locks are in evidence everywhere.

But in the market-place there are exposed for sale the more perishable things of Moorish living. Some of the small cupboards are grocers' shops, where semolina for the preparation of kesk'soo, the national dish, may be purchased, as well as candles for burning at the saints' shrines, and a multitude of small necessaries for the Moorish housewives. In the centre of the market sit the bread-sellers, for the most part women whose faces are supposed to be religiously kept veiled from the gaze of man, but who are apt to let their háïks fall back quite carelessly when only Europeans are near. An occasional glimpse may sometimes be thus obtained of a really pretty face of some lass on the verge of womanhood.

Look at that girl in front of us, stooping over the stall of a vendor of what some one has dubbed "sticky nastinesses," her háïk lightly thrown back; her bent form and the tiny hand protruding at her side show that she is not alone, her little baby brother proving almost as much as she can carry. Her teeth are pearly white; her hair and eyebrows are jet black; her nut-brown cheeks bear a pleasant smile, and as she stretches out one hand to give the "confectioner" a few coppers, with the other clutching at her escaping garment, and moves on amongst the crowd, we [page 122] come to the conclusion that if not fair, she is at least comely.

The country women seated on the ground with their wares form a nucleus for a dense crowd. They have carried in upon their backs heavy loads of grass for provender, or firewood and charcoal which they sell in wholesale quantities to the smaller shopkeepers, who purchase from other countryfolk donkey loads of ripe melons and luscious black figs.

There is a glorious inconsequence in the arrangement of the wares. Here you may see a pile of women's garments exposed for sale, and not far away are sweet-sellers with honey-cakes and other unattractive but toothsome delicacies. If you can catch a glimpse of the native brass-workers busily beating out artistic designs upon trays of different sizes and shapes, do not fail to seize the opportunity of watching them. You may form one in the ring gathered round the snake-charmer, or join the circle which listens open-mouthed and with breathless attention to that story-teller, who breaks off at a most critical juncture in his narrative to shake his tambourine, declaring that so close-fisted an audience does not deserve to hear another word, much less the conclusion of his fascinating tale.

But before you join either party, indeed before you mingle at all freely in the crowd upon a Moorish market-place, it is well to remember that the flea is a common domestic insect, impartial in the distribution of his favours to Moor, Jew and Nazarene, and is in fact not averse to "fresh fields and pastures new."

[page 123]

If you are clad in perishable garments, beware of the water-carrier with his goat-skin, his tinkling bell, his brass cup, and his strange cry. Beware, too, of the strings of donkeys with heavily laden packs, and do not scruple to give them a forcible push out of your way. If you are mounted upon a donkey yourself, so much the better; by watching the methods of your donkey-boy to ensure a clear passage for his beast, you will realize that dwellers in Barbary are not strangers to the spirit of the saying, "Each man for himself, and the de'il take the hindmost."

Yet they are a pleasant crowd to be amongst, in spite of insect-life, water-carriers, and bulky pack-saddles, and there is an exhaustless store of interest, not alone in the wares they have for sale, and in the trades they ply, but more than all in the faces, so often keen and alert, and still more often bright and smiling.

One typical example of Moorish methods of shopping, and I have done. Among those who make their money by trade, you may find a man who spends his time in bringing the would-be purchaser into intimate relations with the article he desires to obtain. He has no shop of his own, but may often be recognized as an interested spectator of some uncompleted bargain. Having discovered your dwelling-place, he proceeds to "bring the mountain to Mohammed," and you will doubtless be confronted in the court-yard of your hotel by the very article for which you have been seeking in vain. Of course he expects a good price which shall ensure him a profit of at least fifty per cent. upon his expenditure, but he too is open to a[page 124] bargain, and a little skilful pointing out of flaws in the article which he has brought for purchase, in a tone of calm and supreme indifference, is apt to ensure a very satisfactory reduction of price in favour of the shopper in Barbary.

[*] Contributed by my wife.—B. M.

[page 125]

XV

A SUNDAY MARKET

"A climb with a friend is a descent."

Moorish Proverb.

One of the sights of Tangier is its market. Sundays and Thursdays, when the weather is fine, see the disused portion of the Mohammedan graveyard outside Báb el Fahs (called by the English Port St. Catherine, and now known commonly as the Sôk Gate) crowded with buyers and sellers of most quaint appearance to the foreign eye, not to mention camels, horses, mules, and donkeys, or the goods they have brought. Hither come the sellers from long distances, trudging all the way on foot, laden or not, according to means, all eager to exchange their goods for European manufacturers, or to carry home a few more dollars to be buried with their store.

Sunday is no Sabbath for the sons of Israel, so the money-changers are doing a brisk trade from baskets of filthy native bronze coin, the smallest of which go five hundred to the shilling, and the largest three hundred and thirty-three! Hard by a venerable rabbi is leisurely cutting the throats of fowls brought to him for the purpose by the servants or children of Jews, after the careful inspection enjoined by the Mosaic law. The old[page 126] gentleman has the coolest way of doing it imaginable; he might be only peeling an orange for the little girl who stands waiting. After apparently all but turning the victim inside out, he twists back its head under its wings, folding these across its breast as a handle, and with his free hand removing his razor-like knife from his mouth, nearly severs its neck and hands it to the child, who can scarcely restrain its struggles except by putting her foot on it, while he mechanically wipes his blade and prepares to despatch another.

Eggs and milk are being sold a few yards off by country women squatted on the ground, the former in baskets or heaps on the stones, the latter in uninviting red jars, with a round of prickly-pear leaf for a stopper, and a bit of palmetto rope for a handle.

By this time we are in the midst of a perfect Babel—a human maëlstrom. In a European crowd one is but crushed by human beings; here all sorts of heavily laden quadrupeds, with packs often four feet across, come jostling past, sometimes with the most unsavoury loads. We have just time to observe that more country women are selling walnuts, vegetables, and fruits, on our left, at the door of what used to be the tobacco and hemp fandak, and that native sweets, German knick-knacks and Spanish fruit are being sold on our right, as amid the din of forges on either side we find ourselves in the midst of the crush to get through the narrow gate.

Here an exciting scene ensues. Continuous streams of people and beasts of burden are pushing both ways; a drove of donkeys laden with rough[page 127] bundles of cork-wood for the ovens approaches, the projecting ends prodding the passers-by; another drove laden with stones tries to pass them, while half a dozen mules and horses vainly endeavour to pass out. A European horseman trots up and makes the people fly, but not so the beasts, till he gets wedged in the midst, and must bide his time after all. Meanwhile one is almost deafened by the noise of shouting, most of it good-humoured. "Zeed! Arrah!" vociferates the donkey-driver. "Bálak!" shouts the horseman. "Bálak! Guarda!" (pronounced warda) in a louder key comes from a man who is trying to pilot a Minister Plenipotentiary and Envoy Extraordinary through the gate, with Her Excellency on his arm.

At last we seize a favourable opportunity and are through. Now we can breathe. In front of us, underneath an arch said to have been built to shelter the English guard two hundred years ago (which is very unlikely, since the English destroyed the fortifications of this gate), we see the native shoeing-smiths hacking at the hoofs of horses, mules, and donkeys, in a manner most extraordinary to us, and nailing on triangular plates with holes in the centre—though most keep a stock of English imported shoes and nails for the fastidious Nazarenes. Spanish and Jewish butchers are driving a roaring trade at movable stalls made of old boxes, and the din is here worse than ever.

Now we turn aside into the vegetable market, as it is called, though as we enter we are almost sickened by the sight of more butchers' stalls, and further on by putrid fish. This market is typical.[page 128] Low thatched booths of branches and canes are the only shops but those of the butchers, the arcade which surrounds the interior of the building being chiefly used for stores. Here and there a filthy rag is stretched across the crowded way to keep the sun off, and anon we have to stop to avoid some drooping branch. Fruit and vegetables of all descriptions in season are sold amid the most good-humoured haggling.

Emerging from this interesting scene by a gate leading to the outer sôk, we come to one quite different in character. A large open space is packed with country people, their beasts and their goods, and towns-people come out to purchase. Women seem to far outnumber the men, doubtless on account of their size and their conspicuous head-dress. They are almost entirely enveloped in white háïks, over the majority of which are thrown huge native sun-hats made of palmetto, with four coloured cords by way of rigging to keep the brim extended. When the sun goes down these are to be seen slung across the shoulders instead. Very many of the women have children slung on their backs, or squatting on their hips if big enough. This causes them to stoop, especially if some other burden is carried on their shoulders as well.

On our right are typical Moorish shops,—grocers', if you please,—in which are exposed to view an assortment of dried fruits, such as nuts, raisins, figs, etc., with olive and argan oil, candles, tea, sugar, and native soap and butter. Certainly of all the goods that butter is the least inviting; the soap, though the purest of "soft," looks a horribly repulsive mass, but the butter which, like[page 129] it, is streaked all over with finger marks, is in addition full of hairs. Similar shops are perched on our left, where old English biscuit-boxes are conspicuous.

Beyond these come slipper- and clothes-menders. The former are at work on native slippers of such age that they would long ago have been thrown away in any less poverty-stricken land, transforming them into wearable if unsightly articles, after well soaking them in earthen pans. Just here a native "medicine man" dispenses nostrums of doubtful efficacy, and in front a quantity of red Moorish pottery is exposed for sale. This consists chiefly of braziers for charcoal and kesk'soo steamers for stewing meat and vegetables as well.

A native café here attracts our attention. Under the shade of a covered way the káhwajî has a brazier on which he keeps a large kettle of water boiling. A few steps further on we light upon the sellers of native salt. This is in very large crystals, heaped in mule panniers, from which the dealers mete it out in wooden measures. It comes from along the beach near Old Tangier, where the heaps can be seen from the town, glistening in the sunlight. Ponds are dug along the shore, in which sea water is enclosed by miniature dykes, and on evaporating leaves the salt.

Pressing on with difficulty through a crowd of horses, mules and donkeys, mostly tethered by their forefeet, we reach some huts in front of which are the most gorgeous native waistcoats exposed for sale, together with Manchester goods, by fat, ugly old women of a forbidding aspect. Further on we come upon "confectioners." A remarkable[page 130] peculiarity of the tables on which the sweets are being sold in front of us is the total absence of flies, though bees abound, in spite of the lazy whisking of the sweet-seller. The sweets themselves consist of red, yellow and white sticks of what Cousin Jonathan calls "candy;" almond and gingelly rock, all frizzling in the sun. A small basin, whose contents resemble a dark plum-pudding full of seeds, contains a paste of the much-lauded hasheesh, the opiate of Morocco, which, though contraband, and strictly prohibited by Imperial decrees, is being freely purchased in small doses.

On the opposite side of the way some old Spaniards are selling a kind of coiled-up fritter by the yard, swimming in oil. Then we come to a native restaurant. Trade does not appear very brisk, so we shall not interrupt it by pausing for a few moments to watch the cooking. In a tiny lean-to of sticks and thatch two men are at work. One is cutting up liver and what would be flead if the Moors ate pigs, into pieces about the size of a filbert. These the other threads on skewers in alternate layers, three or four of each. Having rolled them in a basin of pepper and salt, they are laid across an earthen pot resembling a log scooped out, like some primæval boat. In the bottom of the hollow is a charcoal fire, which causes the khotbán, as they are called, to give forth a most appetizing odour—the only thing tempting about them after seeing them made. Half loaves of native bread lie ready to hand, and the hungry passer-by is invited to take an al fresco meal for the veriest trifle. Another sort of kabáb—for such is the name of the preparation—is being made from[page 131] a large wash-basin full of ready seasoned minced meat, small handfuls of which the jovial chef adroitly plasters on more skewers, cooking them like the others.

Squatted on the ground by the side of this "bar" is a retailer of ripened native butter, "warranted five years old." This one can readily smell without stooping; it is in an earthenware pan, and looks very dirty, but is weighed out by the ounce as very precious after being kept so long underground.

Opposite is the spot where the camels from and for the interior load and unload. Some forty of these ungainly but useful animals are here congregated in groups. At feeding-time a cloth is spread on the ground, on which a quantity of barley is poured in a heap. Each animal lies with its legs doubled up beneath it in a manner only possible to camels, with its head over the food, munching contentedly. In one of the groups we notice the driver beating his beast to make it kneel down preparatory to the removal of its pack, some two hundred-weight and a half. After sundry unpleasant sounds, and tramping backwards and forwards to find a comfortable spot, the gawky creature settles down in a stately fashion, packing up his stilt-like legs in regular order, limb after limb, till he attains the desired position. A short distance off one of them is making hideous noises by way of protest against the weight of the load being piled upon him, threatening to lose his temper, and throw a little red bladder out of his mouth, which, hanging there as he breathes excitedly, makes a most unpleasing sound.

[page 132]

Here one of the many water-carriers who have crossed our path does so again, tinkling his little bell of European manufacture, and we turn to watch him as he gives a poor lad to drink. Slung across his back is the "bottle" of the East—a goat-skin with the legs sewn up. A long metal spout is tied into the neck, and on this he holds his left thumb, which he uses as a tap by removing it to aim a long stream of water into the tin mug in his right hand. Two bright brass cups cast and engraved in Fez hang from a chain round his neck, but these are reserved for purchasers, the urchin who is now enjoying a drink receiving it as charity. Tinkle, tinkle, goes the bell again, as the weary man moves on with his ever-lightening burden, till he is confronted by another wayfarer who turns to him to quench his thirst. As these skins are filled indiscriminately from wells and tanks, and cleaned inside with pitch, the taste must not be expected to satisfy all palates; but if hunger is the best sauce for food, thirst is an equal recommendation for drink.

A few minutes' walk across a cattle-market brings us at last to the English church, a tasteful modern construction in pure Moorish style, and banishing the thoughts of our stroll, we join the approaching group of fellow-worshippers, for after all it is Sunday.

[page 133]

XVI

PLAY-TIME

"According to thy shawl stretch thy leg."

Moorish Proverb.

Few of us realize to what an extent our amusements, pastimes, and recreations enter into the formation of our individual, and consequently of our national, character. It is therefore well worth our while to take a glance at the Moor at play, or as near play as he ever gets. The stately father of a family must content himself, as his years and flesh increase, with such amusements as shall not entail exertion. By way of house game, since cards and all amusements involving chance are strictly forbidden, chess reigns supreme, and even draughts—with which the denizens of the coffee-house, where he would not be seen, disport themselves—are despised by him. In Shiráz, however, the Sheïkh ul Islám, or chief religious authority, declared himself shocked when I told him how often I had played this game with Moorish theologians, whereupon ensued a warm discussion as to whether it was a game of chance. At last I brought this to a satisfactory close by remarking that as his reverence was ignorant even of the rules of the game,—and therefore no judge, since he had imagined it to be based on hazard,—he at least was manifestly innocent of it.

[page 134]

The connection between chess and Arabdom should not be forgotten, especially as the very word with which it culminates, "checkmate," is but a corruption of the Arabic "sheïkh mát"—"chief dead." The king of games is, however, rare on the whole, requiring too much concentration for a weary or lazy official, or a merchant after a busy day. Their method of playing does not materially differ from ours, but they play draughts with very much more excitement and fun. The jocular vituperation which follows a successful sally, and the almost unintelligible rapidity with which the moves are made, are as novel to the European as appreciated by the natives.

Gossip, the effervescence of an idle brain, is the prevailing pastime, and at no afternoon tea-table in Great Britain is more aimless talk indulged in than while the cup goes round among the Moors. The ladies, with a more limited scope, are not far behind their lords in this respect. Otherwise their spare time is devoted to minutely fine embroidery. This is done in silk on a piece of calico or linen tightly stretched on a frame, and is the same on both sides; in this way are ornamented curtains, pillow-cases, mattress-covers, etc. It is, nevertheless, considered so far a superfluity that few who have not abundant time to spare trouble about it, and the material decorated is seldom worth the labour bestowed thereon.

The fact is that in these southern latitudes as little time as possible is passed within doors, and for this reason we must seek the real amusements of the people outside. When at home they seem to think it sufficient to loll about all the day long if[page 135] not at work, especially if they have an enclosed flower-garden, beautifully wild and full of green and flowers, with trickling, splashing water. I exclude, of course, all feasts and times when the musicians come, but I must not omit mention of dancing. Easterns think their western friends mad to dance themselves, when they can so easily get others to do it for them, so they hire a number of women to go through all manner of quaint—too often indecent—posings and wrigglings before them, to the tune of a nasal chant, which, aided by fiddles, banjos, and tambourines, is being drawled out by the musicians. Some of these seemingly inharmonious productions are really enjoyable when one gets into the spirit of the thing.

At times the Moors are themselves full of life and vigour, especially in the enjoyment of what may be called the national sport of "powder-play," not to speak of boar-hunting, hawking, rabbit-chasing, and kindred pastimes. Just as in the days of yore their forefathers excelled in the use of the spear, brandishing and twirling it as easily as an Indian club or singlestick, so they excel to-day in the exercise of their five-foot flint-locks, performing the most dexterous feats on horseback at full gallop.

Here is such a display about to commence. It is the feast of Mohammed's birthday, and the market-place outside the gate, so changed since yesterday, is crowded with spectators; men and boys in gay, but still harmonious, colours, decked out for the day, and women shrouded in their blankets, plain wool-white. An open space is left right through the centre, up a gentle slope, and a dozen horsemen are spurring and holding in their[page 136] prancing steeds at yonder lower end. At some unnoticed signal they have started towards us. They gallop wildly, the beat of their horses' hoofs sounding as iron hail on the stony way. A cloud of dust flies upward, and before we are aware of it they are abreast of us—a waving, indistinguishable mass of flowing robes, of brandished muskets, and of straining, foaming steeds. We can just see them tossing their guns in the air, and then a rider, bolder than the rest, stands on his saddle, whirling round his firearm aloft without stopping, while another swings his long weapon underneath his horse, and seizes it upon the other side. But now they are in line again, and every gun is pointed over the right, behind the back, the butt grasped by the twisted left arm, and the lock by the right under the left armpit. In this constrained position they fire at an imaginary foe who is supposed to have appeared from ambush as they pass. Immediately the reins—which have hitherto been held in the mouth, the steed guided by the feet against his gory flanks—are pulled up tight, throwing the animal upon his haunches, and wheeling him round for a sober walk back.

This is, in truth, a practice or drill for war, for such is the method of fighting in these parts. A sortie is made to seek the hidden foe, who may start up anywhere from the ravines or boulders, and who must be aimed at instanter, before he regains his cover, while those who have observed him must as quickly as possible get beyond his range to reload and procure reinforcements.

The only other active sports of moment, apart from occasional horse races, are football and fencing,[page 137] indulged in by boys. The former is played with a stuffed leather ball some six or eight inches across, which is kicked into the air with the back of the heel, and caught in the hands, the object being to drive it as high as possible. The fencing is only remarkable for its free and easy style, and the absence of hilts and guards.

Yet there are milder pastimes in equal favour, and far more in accordance with the fancy of southerners in warm weather, such as watching a group of jugglers or snake-charmers, or listening to a story-teller. These are to be met with in the market-place towards the close of hot and busy days, when the wearied bargainers gather in groups to rest before commencing the homeward trudge. The jugglers are usually poor, the production of fire from the mouth, of water from an empty jar, and so on, forming stock items. But often fearful realities are to be seen—men who in a frenzied state catch cannon balls upon their heads, blood spurting out on every side; or, who stick skewers through their legs. These are religious devotees who live by such performances. From the public raconteur the Moor derives the excitement the European finds in his novel, or the tale "to be continued in our next," and it probably does him less harm.

[page 138]

XVII

THE STORY-TELLER

"Gentleman without reading, dog without scent."

Moorish Proverb.

The story-teller is, par excellence, the prince of Moorish performers. Even to the stranger unacquainted with the language the sight of the Arab bard and his attentive audience on some erstwhile bustling market at the ebbing day is full of interest—to the student of human nature a continual attraction. After a long trudge from home, commenced before dawn, and a weary haggling over the most worthless of "coppers" during the heat of the day, the poor folk are quite ready for a quiet resting-time, with something to distract their minds and fill them with thoughts for the homeward way. Here have been fanned and fed the great religious and political movements which from time to time have convulsed the Empire, and here the pulse of the nation throbs. In the cities men lead a different life, and though the townsfolk appreciate tales as well as any, it is on these market-places that the wandering troubadour gathers the largest crowds.

Like public performers everywhere, a story-teller of note always goes about with regular assistants, who act as summoners to his entertainment, and as chorus to his songs. They consist[page 139] usually of a player on the native fiddle, another who keeps time on a tambourine, and a third who beats a kind of earthenware drum with his fingers. Less pretentious "professors" are content with themselves manipulating a round or square tambourine or a two-stringed fiddle, and to many this style has a peculiar charm of its own. Each pause, however slight, is marked by two or three sharp beats on the tightly stretched skin, or twangs with a palmetto leaf plectrum, loud or soft, according to the subject of the discourse at that point. The dress of this class—the one most frequently met with—is usually of the plainest, if not of the scantiest; a tattered brown jelláb (a hooded woollen cloak) and a camel's-hair cord round the tanned and shaven skull are the garments which strike the eye. Waving bare arms and sinewy legs, with a wild, keen-featured face, lit up by flashing eyes, complete the picture.

This is the man from whom to learn of love and fighting, of beautiful women and hairbreadth escapes, the whole on the model of the "Thousand Nights and a Night," of which versions more or less recognizable may now and again be heard from his lips. Commencing with plenty of tambourine, and a few suggestive hints of what is to follow, he gathers around him a motley audience, the first comers squatting in a circle, and later arrivals standing behind. Gradually their excitement is aroused, and as their interest grows, the realistic semi-acting and the earnest mien of the performer rivet every eye upon him. Suddenly his wild gesticulations cease at the entrancing point. One step more for liberty, one blow, and the charming[page 140] prize would be in the possession of her adorer. Now is the time to "cash up." With a pious reference to "our lord Mohammed—the prayer of God be on him, and peace,"—and an invocation of a local patron saint or other equally revered defunct, an appeal is made to the pockets of the Faithful "for the sake of Mulai Abd el Káder"—"Lord Slave-of-the-Able." Arousing as from a trance, the eager listeners instinctively commence to feel in their pockets for the balance from the day's bargaining; and as every blessing from the legion of saints who would fill the Mohammedan calendar if there were one is invoked on the cheerful giver, one by one throws down his hard-earned coppers—one or two—and as if realizing what he has parted with, turns away with a long-drawn breath to untether his beasts, and set off home.

But exciting as are these acknowledged fictions, specimens are so familiar to most readers from the pages of the collection referred to that much more interest will be felt in an attempt to reproduce one of a higher type, pseudo-historical, and alleged to be true. Such narratives exhibit much of native character, and shades of thought unencountered save in daily intercourse with the people. Let us, therefore, seize the opportunity of a visit from a noted raconteur and reputed poet to hear his story. Tame, indeed, would be the result of an endeavour to transfer to black and white the animated tones and gestures of the narrator, which the imagination of the reader must supply.

The initial "voluntary" by the "orchestra" has ended; every eye is directed towards the central figure, this time arrayed in ample turban, white[page 141] jelláb and yellow slippers, with a face betokening a lucrative profession. After a moment's silence he commences the history of—

"Mulai Abd el Káder and the Monk Of Monks."

"The thrones of the Nazarenes were once in number sixty, but the star of the Prophet of God—the prayer of God be on him, and peace—was in the ascendant, and the religion of Resignation [Islám] was everywhere victorious. Many of the occupiers of those thrones had either submitted to the Lieutenant ['Caliph'] of our Lord, and become Muslimeen, or had been vanquished by force of arms. The others were terrified, and a general assembly was convoked to see what was to be done. As the rulers saw they were helpless against the decree of God, they called for their monks to advise them. The result of the conference was that it was decided to invite the Resigned Ones (Muslimeen) to a discussion on their religious differences, on the understanding that whichever was victorious should be thenceforth supreme.

"The Leader of the Faithful having summoned his wise men, their opinion was asked. 'O victorious of God,' they with one voice replied, 'since God, the High and Blessed, is our King, what have we to fear? Having on our side the truth revealed in the "Book to be Read" [the Korán] by the hand of the Messenger of God—the prayer of God be on him, and peace—we must prevail. Let us willingly accept their proposal.' An early day was accordingly fixed for the decisive contest, and each party marshalled its forces. At the appointed time they met, a great crowd on either side, and it was asked which should begin. Knowing that victory was on his side, the Lieutenant of the Prophet—the prayer [page 142] of God be on him, and peace—replied, 'Since ye have desired this meeting, open ye the discussion.'

"Then the chief of the Nazarene kings made answer, 'But we are here so many gathered together, that if we commence to dispute all round we shall not finish by the Judgement Day. Let each party therefore choose its wisest man, and let the two debate before us, the remainder judging the result.'

"'Well hast thou spoken,' said the Leader of the Faithful; 'be it even so.' Then the learned among the Resigned selected our lord Abd el Káder of Baghdad,[^*] a man renowned the world over for piety and for the depth of his learning. Now a prayer [Fátihah] for Mulai Abd el Káder!"

Here the speaker, extending his open palms side by side before him, as if to receive a blessing thereon, is copied by the by-standers.[^†] "In the name of God, the Pitying, the Pitiful!" All draw their hands down their faces, and, if they boast beards, end by stroking them out.

"Then the polytheists[^‡] likewise chose their man, one held among them in the highest esteem, well read and wise, a monk of monks. Between these two, then, the controversy commenced. As already agreed, the Nazarene was the first to question:

"'How far is it from the Earth to the first heaven?'

"'Five hundred years.'

"'And thence to the second heaven?'

"'Five hundred years.'

"'Thence to the third?'

[page 143]

"'Five hundred years.'

"'Thence to the fourth?'

"'Five hundred years.'

"'Thence to the fifth?'

"'Five hundred years.'

"'Thence to the sixth?'

"'Five hundred years.'

"'Thence to the seventh?'

"'Five hundred years.'

"'And from Mekka to Jerusalem?'

"'Forty days.'

"'Add up the whole.'

"'Three thousand, five hundred years, and forty days.'

"'In his famous ride on El Borak [Lightning] where did Mohammed go?'

"'From the Sacred Temple [of Mekka] to the Further Temple [of Jerusalem], and from the Holy House [Jerusalem] to the seventh heaven, and the presence of God.'[^§]

"'How long did this take?'

"'The tenth of one night.'

"'Did he find his bed still warm on his return?'

"'Yes.'

"'Dost thou think such a thing possible; to travel three thousand five hundred years and back, and find one's bed still warm on returning?'

"'Canst thou play chess?' then asked Mulai Abd el Káder.

"'Of course I can,' said the monk, surprised.

"'Then, wilt thou play with me?'

"'Certainly not,' replied the monk, indignantly. 'Dost thou think me a fool, to come here to discuss the science of religion, and to be put off with a game of chess?'

[page 144]

"'Then thou acknowledgest thyself beaten; thou hast said thou couldst play chess, yet thou darest not measure thy skill at it with me. Thy refusal proves thy lie.'

"'Nay, then, since thou takest it that way, I will consent to a match, but under protest.'

"So the board was brought, and the players seated themselves. Move, move, move, went the pieces; kings and queens, elephants, rooks, and knights, with the soldiers everywhere. One by one they disappeared, as the fight grew fast and furious. But Mulai Abd el Káder had another object in view than the routing of his antagonist at a game of chess. By the exercise of his superhuman power he transported the monk to 'the empty third' [of the world], while his image remained before him at the board, to all appearances still absorbed in the contest.

"Meanwhile the monk could not tell where he was, but being oppressed with a sense of severe thirst, rose from where he sat, and made for a rising ground near by, whence he hoped to be able to descry some signs of vegetation, which should denote the presence of water. Giddy and tired out, he approached the top, when what was his joy to see a city surrounded by palms but a short way off! With a cry of delight he quickened his steps and approached the gate. As he did so, a party of seven men in gorgeous apparel of wool and silk came out of the gate, each with a staff in his hand.

"On meeting him they offered him the salutation of the Faithful, but he did not return it. 'Who mayest thou be,' they asked, 'who dost not wish peace to the Resigned?' [Muslimeen]. 'My Lords,' he made answer, 'I am a monk of the Nazarenes, I merely seek water to quench my thirst.'

"'But he who comes here must resign himself [to Mohammedanism] or suffer the consequences.[page 145] Testify that 'There is no god but God, and Mohammed is His Messenger!' 'Never,' he replied; and immediately they threw him on the ground and flogged him with their staves till he cried for mercy. 'Stop!' he implored. 'I will testify.' No sooner had he done so than they ceased their blows, and raising him up gave him water to drink. Then, tearing his monkish robe to shreds, each deprived himself of a garment to dress him becomingly. Having re-entered the city they repaired to the judge.

"'My Lord,' they said, 'we bring before thee a brother Resigned, once a monk of the monks, now a follower of the Prophet, our lord—the prayer of God be on him, and peace. We pray thee to accept his testimony and record it in due form.'

"'Welcome to thee; testify!' exclaimed the kádi, turning to the convert. Then, holding up his forefinger, the quondam monk witnessed to the truth of the Unity [of God]. 'Call for a barber!' cried the kádi; and a barber was brought. Seven Believers of repute stood round while the deed was done, and the convert rose a circumcised Muslim—blessed be God.

"Then came forward a notable man of that town, pious, worthy, and rich, respected of all, who said, addressing the kádi: 'My Lord—may God bless thy days,—thou knowest, all these worthy ones know, who and what I am. In the interests of religion and to the honour of God, I ask leave to adopt this brother newly resigned. What is mine shall be his to share with my own sons, and the care I bestow on them and their education shall be bestowed equally on him. God is witness.' 'Well said; so be it,' replied the learned judge; 'henceforth he is a member of thy family.'

"So to the hospitable roof of this pious one[page 146] went the convert. A tutor was obtained for him, and he commenced to taste the riches of the wisdom of the Arab. Day after day he sat and studied, toiling faithfully, till teacher after teacher had to be procured, as he exhausted the stores of each in succession. So he read: first the Book 'To be Read' [the Korán], till he could repeat it faultlessly, then the works of the poets, Kálûn, el Mikki, el Bisri, and Sîdi Hamzah; then the 'Lesser' and 'Greater Ten.'[^||] Then he commenced at Sîdi íbnu Ashîr, following on through the Ajrûmiyah,[^#] and the Alfîyah,[^**] to the commentaries of Sîdi Khalîl, of the Sheïkh el Bokhári, and of Ibnu Asîm, till there was nothing left to learn.

"Thus he continued growing in wisdom and honour, the first year, the second year, the third year, even to the twentieth year, till no one could compete with him. Then the Judge of Judges of that country died, and a successor was sought for, but all allowed that no one's claims equalled those of the erstwhile monk. So he was summoned to fill the post, but was disqualified as unmarried. When they inquired if he was willing to do his duty in this respect, and he replied that he was, the father of the most beautiful girl in the city bestowed her on him, and that she might not be portionless, the chief men of the place vied one with another in heaping riches upon him. So he became Judge of Judges, rich, happy, revered.

"And there was born unto him one son, then a second son, and even a third son. And there was born unto him a daughter, then a second daughter, and even a third daughter. So he prospered and increased. And to his sons were born sons, one, two, three, and four, and daughters withal. And his[page 147] daughters were given in marriage to the elders of that country, and with them it was likewise.

"Now there came a day, a great feast day, when all his descendants came before him with their compliments and offerings, some small, some great, each receiving tenfold in return, garments of fine spun wool and silk, and other articles of value.

"When the ceremony was over he went outside the town to walk alone, and approached the spot whence he had first descried what had so long since been his home. As he sat again upon that well-remembered spot, and glanced back at the many years which had elapsed since last he was there, a party of the Faithful drew near. He offered the customary salute of 'Peace be on you,' but they simply stared in return. Presently one of them brusquely asked what he was doing there, and he explained who he was. But they laughed incredulously, and then he noticed that once again he was clad in robe and cowl, with a cord round his waist. They taunted him as a liar, but he re-affirmed his statements, and related his history. He counted up the years since he had resigned himself, telling of his children and children's children.

"'Wouldst thou know them if you sawst them?' asked the strangers. 'Indeed I would,' was the reply, 'but they would know me first.'

"'And you are really circumcised? We'll see!' was their next exclamation. Just then a caravan appeared, wending its way across the plain, and the travellers hailed it. As he looked up at the shout, he saw Mulai Abd el Káder still sitting opposite him at the chess-board, reminding him that it was his move. He had been recounting his experiences for the last half century to Mulai Abd el Káder himself, and to the wise ones of both creeds who surrounded them!

[page 148]

"Indeed it was too true, and he had to acknowledge that the events of a life-time had been crowded into a period undefinably minute, by the God-sent power of my lord Slave-of-the-Able [Mulai Abd el Káder].

"Now, where is the good man and true who reveres the name of this holy one? Who will say a prayer to Mulai Abd el Káder?" Here the narrator extends his palms as before, and all follow him in the motion of drawing them down his face. "In the name of the Pitying and Pitiful! Now another!" The performance is repeated.

"Who is willing to yield himself wholly and entirely to Mulai Abd el Káder? Who will dedicate himself from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head? Another prayer!" Another repetition of the performance.

"Now let those devoted men earn the effectual prayers of that holy one by offering their silver in his name. Nothing less than a peseta[^††] will do. That's right," as one of the bystanders throws down the coin specified.

"Now let us implore the blessing of God and Mulai Abd el Káder on the head of this liberal Believer." The palm performance is once more gone through. The earnestness with which he does it this time induces more to follow suit, and blessings on them also are besought in the same fashion.

"Now, my friends, which among you will do business with the palms of all these faithful ones? Pay a peseta and buy the prayers of them all. Now then, deal them out, and purchase happiness."

So the appeal goes wearisomely on. As no more pesetas are seen to be forthcoming, a shift[page 149] is made with reals—nominally 2½d. pieces—the story-teller asking those who cannot afford more to make up first one dollar and then another, turning naïvely to his assistant to ask if they haven't obtained enough yet, as though it were all for them. As they reply that more is needed, he redoubles his appeals and prayers, threading his way in and out among the crowd, making direct for each well-dressed individual with a confidence which renders flight or refusal a shame. Meanwhile the "orchestra" has struck up, and only pauses when the "professor" returns to the centre of the circle to call on all present to unite in prayers for the givers. A few coppers which have been tossed to his feet are distributed scornfully amongst half a dozen beggars, in various stages of filthy wretchedness and deformity, who have collected on the ground at one side.

Here a water-carrier makes his appearance, with his goat-skin "bottle" and tinkling bell—a swarthy Soudanese in most tattered garb. The players and many listeners having been duly refreshed for the veriest trifle, the performance continues. A prayer is even said for the solitary European among the crowd, on his being successfully solicited for his quota, and another for his father at the request of some of the crowd, who style him the "Friend of the Moors."

At last a resort is made to coppers, and when the story-teller condescendingly consents to receive even such trifles in return for prayers, from those who cannot afford more, quite a pattering shower falls at his feet, which is supplemented by a further hand-to-hand collection. In all, between four and[page 150] five dollars must have been received—not a bad remuneration for an hour's work! Already the ring has been thinning; now there is a general uprising, and in a few moments the scene is completely changed, the entertainer lost among the entertained, for the sun has disappeared below yon hill, and in a few moments night will fall.

[*] So called because buried near that city. For an account of his life, and view of his mausoleum, see "The Moors," pp. 337-339.

[†] "The hands are raised in order to catch a blessing in them, and are afterwards drawn over the face to transfer it to every part of the body."—Hughes, "Dictionary of Islám."

[‡] A term applied by Mohammedans to Christians on account of a mistaken conception of the doctrine of the Trinity.

[§] This was the occasion on which Mohammed visited the seven heavens under the care of Gabriel, riding on an ass so restive that he had to be bribed with a promise of Paradise.

[||] Grammarians and commentators of the Korán.

[#] A preliminary work on rhetoric.

[**] The "Thousand Verses" of grammar.

[††] About eightpence, a labourer's daily wage in Tangier.

[page 151]

XVIII

SNAKE-CHARMING

"Whom a snake has bitten starts from a rope."

Moorish Proverb.

Descriptions of this art remembered in a book for boys read years before had prepared me for the most wonderful scenes, and when I first watched the performance with snakes which delights the Moors I was disappointed. Yet often as I might look on, there was nothing else to see, save in the faces and gestures of the crowd, who with child-like simplicity followed every step as though for the first time. These have for me a never-ending fascination. Thus it is that the familiar sounds of rapid and spasmodic beating on a tambourine, which tell that the charmer is collecting an audience, still prove an irresistible attraction for me as well. The ring in which I find myself is just a reproduction of that surrounding the story-teller of yester-e'en, but where his musicians sat there is a wilder group, more striking still in their appearance.

This time, also, the instruments are of another class, two or three of the plainest sheep-skin tambourines with two gut strings across the centre under the parchment, which gives them a peculiar twanging sound; and a couple of reeds, mere canes pierced with holes, each provided with a mouthpiece[page 152] made of half an inch of flattened reed. Nothing is needed to add to the discord as all three are vigorously plied with cheek and palm.

The principal actor has an appearance of studied weirdness as he gesticulates wildly and calls on God to protect him against the venom of his pets. Contrary to the general custom of the country, he has let his black hair grow till it streams over his shoulders in matted locks. His garb is of the simplest, a dirty white shirt over drawers of similar hue completing his outfit.

Selecting a convenient stone as a seat, notebook in hand, I make up my mind to see the thing through. The "music" having continued five or ten minutes with the desired result of attracting a circle of passers-by, the actual performance is now to commence. On the ground in the centre lies a spare tambourine, and on one side are the two cloth-covered bottle-shaped baskets containing the snakes.

The chief charmer now advances, commencing to step round the ring with occasional beats on his tambourine, rolling his eyes and looking demented. Presently, having reached a climax of rapid beating and pacing, he suddenly stops in the centre with an extra "bang!"

"Now, every man who believes in our lord Mohammed ben Aïsa,[^*] say with me a Fátihah."

Each of the onlookers extending his palms side by side before his face, they repeat the prayer in a sing-song voice, and as it concludes with a loud "Ameen," the charmer gives an agonized cry, as though deeply wrought upon. "Ah Rijál el[page 153] Blád" ("Oh Saints of the Town!"), he shouts, as he recommences his tambourining, this time even with increased vigour, beating the ground with his feet, and working his body up and down in a most extraordinary manner. The two others are also playing, and the noise is deafening. The chief figure appears to be raving mad; his starting eyes, his lithe and supple figure, and his streaming hair, give him the air of one possessed. His face is a study, a combination of fierceness and madness, yet of good-nature.

At last he sinks down exhausted, but after a moment rises and advances to the centre of the circle, picking up a tambourine.

"Now, Sîdi Aïsa"—turning to one of the musicians, whom he motions to cease their din—"what do you think happens to the man who puts a coin in there? Why, the holy saint, our lord Mohammed ben Aïsa, puts a ring round him like that," drawing a ring round a stone on the ground. "Is it not so?"

"It is, Ameen," from Sidi Aïsa.

"And what happens to him in the day time?"

"He is in the hands of God, and his people too."

"And in the night time?"

"He is in the hands of God, and his people too."

"And when at home?"

"He is in the hands of God, and his people too."

"And when abroad?"

"He is in the hands of God, and his people too."

[page 154]

At this a copper coin is thrown into the ring, and the charmer replies, "Now he who is master of sea and land, my lord Abd el Káder el Jîláni,[^†] bless the giver of that coin! Now, for the love of God and of His blessed prophet, I offer a prayer for that generous one." Here the operation of passing their hands down their faces is performed by all.

"Now, there's another,"—as a coin falls—"and from a child, too! God bless thee now, my son. May my lord Ben Aïsa, my lord Abd es-Slám, and my lord Abd el Káder, protect and keep thee!"

Then, as more coppers fall, similar blessings are invoked upon the donors, interspersed with catechising of the musicians with a view to making known the advantages to be reaped by giving something. At last, as nothing more seems to be forthcoming, the performance proper is proceeded with, and the charmer commences to dance on one leg, to a terrible din from the tambourines. Then he pauses, and summons a little boy from the audience, seating him in the midst, adjuring him to behave himself, to do as he is bid, and to have faith in "our lord Ben Aïsa." Then, seating himself behind the boy, he places his lips against his skull, and blows repeatedly, coming round to the front to look at the lad, to see if he is sufficiently affected, and returning to puff again. Finally he bites off a piece of the boy's cloak, and chews it. Now he wets his finger in his mouth, and after putting it into the dust makes lines across his legs and arms, all the time calling on his patron saint; next holding the piece of cloth in his hands and walking round the ring for all to see it.

[page 155]

"Come hither," he says to a bystander; "search my mouth and see if there be anything there."

The search is conducted as a farmer would examine a horse's mouth, with the result that it is declared empty.

"Now I call on the prophet to witness that there is no deception," as he once more restores the piece of cloth to his mouth, and pokes his fingers into his neck, drawing them now up his face.

"Enough!"

The voices of the musicians, who have for the latter part of the time been giving forth a drawling chorus, cease, but the din of the tambourines continues, while the performer dances wildly, till he stops before the lad on the ground, and takes from his mouth first one date and then another, which the lad is told to eat, and does so, the on-lookers fully convinced that they were transformed from the rag.

Now it is the turn of one of the musicians to come forward, his place being taken by the retiring performer, after he has made another collection in the manner already described.

"He who believes in God and in the power of our lord Mohammed ben Aïsa, say with me a Fátihah," cries the new man, extending his palms turned upwards before him to receive the blessings he asks, and then brings one of the snake-baskets forward, plunging his hand into its sack-like mouth, and sharply drawing it out a time or two, as if afraid of being bitten.

Finally he pulls the head of one of the reptiles through, and leaves it there, darting out its fangs, while he snatches up and wildly beats the tambourine[page 156] by his side. He now seizes the snake by the neck, and pulls it right out, the people starting back as it coils round in the ring, or uncoils and makes a plunge towards someone. Now he pulls out another, and hangs it round his neck, saying, "I take refuge with the saint who was dead and is alive, with our lord Mohammed son of Aïsa, and with the most holy Abd el Káder el Jîláni, king of land and sea. Now, let every one who believes bear witness with me and say a Fátihah!"

"Say a Fátihah!" echoes one of the still noisy musicians, by way of chorus.

"Now may our lord Abd el Káder see the man who makes a contribution with his eyes."

Chorus: "With his eyes!"

"And may his heart find rest, and our lord Abd er-Rahmán protect him!"

Chorus: "Protect him!"

"Now, I call you to witness, I bargain with our lord Abd el Káder for a forfeit!"

Chorus: "For a forfeit!"

A copper is thrown into the ring, and as he picks it up and hands it to the musician, the performer exclaims—

"Take this, see, and at the last day may the giver of it see our lord Abd el Káder before him!"

Chorus: "Before him!"

"May he ever be blessed, whether present or absent!"

Chorus: "Present or absent!"

"Who wishes to have a good conscience and a clean heart? Oh, ye beloved of the Lord! See, take from that dear one" (who has thrown down a copper).

[page 157]

The contributions now apparently sufficing for the present, the performance proceeds, but the crowd having edged a little too close, it is first necessary to increase the space in the centre by swinging one of the reptiles round by the tail, whereat all start back.

"Ah! you may well be afraid!" exclaims the charmer. "Their fangs mean death, if you only knew it, but for the mercies of my lord, the son of Aïsa."

"Ameen!" responds the chorus.

Hereupon he proceeds to direct the head of the snake to his mouth, and caressingly invites it to enter. Darting from side to side, it finally makes a plunge down his throat, whereon the strangers shudder, and the habitués look with triumphant awe. Wildly he spins on one foot that all may see, still holding the creature by the neck with one hand, and by the tail with the other. At length, having allowed the greater part of its length to disappear in this uncanny manner, he proceeds to withdraw it, the head emerging with the sound of a cork from a bottle. The sight has not been pleasant, but the audience, transfixed, gives a sigh of relief as the tambourines strike up again, and the reed chimes in deafeningly.

"Who says they are harmless? Who says their fangs are extracted?" challenges the performer. "Look here!"

The seemingly angry snake has now fastened on his arm, and is permitted to draw blood, as though in reward for its recent treatment.

"Is any incredulous here? Shall I try it on thee?"

[page 158]

The individual addressed, a poverty-stricken youth whose place was doubtless required for some more promising customer behind, flees in terror, as the gaping jaws approach him. One and another having been similarly dismissed from points of vantage, and a redistribution of front seats effected, the incredulous are once more tauntingly addressed and challenged. This time the challenge is accepted by a foreigner, who hands in a chicken held by its wings.

"So? Blessed be God! Its doom is sealed if it comes within reach of the snake. See here!"

All eagerly press forward, many rising to their feet, and it is difficult to see over their shoulders the next gruesome act. The reptile, held by the neck in the performer's right hand, is shown the chicken in the other, and annoyed by having it poked in its face, too frightened to perceive what is happening. In a moment the fangs are shot out, and a wound inflicted in the exposed part under the wing. Blood appears, and the bird is thrown down, being held in place by the performer's foot till in a few minutes its struggles cease. Then, picking the victim up, he holds it aloft by one wing to show its condition, and exultingly calls for a Fátihah.

It is enough: my patience is exhausted, and I rise to make off with stiff knees, content at last with what I have seen and heard of the "charming" of snakes in Morocco.

[*] For the history of this man and his snake-charming followers see "The Moors," p. 331.

[†] The surname of the Baghdád saint.

[page 159]

XIX

IN A MOORISH CAFÉ

"A little from a friend is much."

Moorish Proverb.

To the passer-by, least of all to the European, there is nothing in its external appearance to recommend old Hashmi's café. From the street, indeed, it is hardly visible, for it lies within the threshold of a caravansarai or fandak, in which beasts are tethered, goods accumulated and travellers housed, and of which the general appearance is that of a neglected farm-yard. Round an open court a colonnade supports the balcony by which rooms on the upper story are approached, a narrow staircase in the corner leading right up to the terraced roof. In the daytime the sole occupants of the rooms are women whose partners for the time being have securely locked them in before going to work.

Beside the lofty archway forming the gate of this strange hostelry, is Hashmi's stall, at which green tea or a sweet, pea-soupy preparation of coffee may be had at all hours of the day, but the café proper, gloomy by daylight, lies through the door behind. Here, of an evening, the candles lit, his regular customers gather with tiny pipes, indulging in flowing talk. Each has before him his harmless glass, as he squats or reclines on the[page 160] rush-matted floor. Nothing of importance occurs in the city but is within a little made known here with as much certainty as if the proprietor subscribed to an evening paper. Any man who has something fresh to tell, who can interest or amuse the company, and by his frequent visits give the house a name, is always welcome, and will find a glass awaiting him whenever he chooses to come.

Old Hashmi knows his business, and if the evening that I was there may be taken as a sample, he deserves success. That night he was in the best of humours. His house was full and trade brisk. Fattah, a negro, was keeping the house merry, so in view of coming demands, he brewed a fresh pot of real "Mekkan." The surroundings were grimy, and outside the rain came down in torrents: but that was a decided advantage, since it not only drove men indoors, but helped to keep them there. Mesaôd, the one-eyed, had finished an elaborate tuning of his two-stringed banjo, his ginbri—a home-made instrument—and was proceeding to arrive at a convenient pitch of voice for his song. With a strong nasal accent he commenced reciting the loves of Si Marzak and his fair Azîzah: how he addressed her in the fondest of language, and how she replied by caresses. When he came to the chorus they all chimed in, for the most part to their own tune and time, as they rocked to and fro, some clapping, some beating their thighs, and all applauding at the end.

The whole ballad would not bear translation—for English ears,—and the scanty portion which may be given has lost its rhythm and cadence by the change, for Arabic is very soft and beautiful[page 161] to those who understand it. The time has come when Azîzah, having quarrelled with Si Marzak in a fit of perhaps too well-founded jealousy, desires to "make it up again," and thus addresses her beloved—

"Oh, how I have followed thy attractiveness,

And halted between give and take!

Oh, how I'd from evil have protected thee

By my advice, hadst thou but heeded it!

Yet to-day taste, O my master,

Of the love that thou hast taught to me!

"Oh, how I have longed for the pleasure of thy visits,

And poured out bitter tears for thee;

Until at last the sad truth dawned on me

That of thy choice thou didst put me aside!

Yet to-day taste, O my master,

Of the love that thou hast taught to me!

"Thou wast sweeter than honey to me,

But thou hast become more bitter than gall.

Is it thus thou beginnest the world?

Beware lest thou make me thy foe!

Yet to-day taste, O my master,

Of the love that thou hast taught to me!

"I have hitherto been but a name to thee,

And thou took'st to thy bosom a snake,

But to-day I perceive thou'st a fancy for me:

O God, I will not be deceived!

Yes, to-day taste, O my master,

Of the love that thou hast taught to me!

"Thou know'st my complaint and my only cure:

Why, then, wilt thou heal me not?

Thou canst do so to-day, O my master,

And save me from all further woe.

Yes, to-day taste, O my master,

Of the love that thou hast taught to me!"

To which the hard-pressed swain replies—

"Of a truth thine eyes have bewitched me,

For Death itself is in fear of them:

And thine eyebrows, like two logs of wood,

Have battered me each in its turn.

So if thou sayest die, I'll die;

And for God shall my sacrifice be!

"I have neither yet died nor abandoned hope,

Though slumber at night I ne'er know.

With the staff of deliverance still afar off,

So that all the world knows of my woe.

And if thou sayest die, I'll die,

But for God shall my sacrifice be!"

While the singing was proceeding Sáïd and Drees had been indulging in a game of draughts, and as it ceased their voices could be heard in eager play. "Call thyself a Mallem (master). There, thy father was bewitched by a hyena; there, and there again!" shouted Sáïd, as he swept a first, a second and a third of his opponent's pieces from the board.

But Drees was equal with him in another move.

"So, verily, thou art my master! Let us, then, praise God for thy wisdom: thou art like indeed unto him who verily shot the fox, but who killed his own cow with the second shot! See, thus I teach thee to boast before thy betters: ha, I laugh at thee, I ride the donkey on thy head. I shave that beard of thine!" he ejaculated, taking one piece after another from his adversary, as the result of an incautious move. The board had the appearance of a well-kicked footstool, and the "men"—called "dogs" in Barbary—were more like baseless chess pawns. The play was as unlike that of Europeans as possible; the moves from "room" to "room" were of lightning swiftness, and accompanied by a running fire of slang ejaculations, chiefly sarcastic, but, on the whole, enlivened with a vein of playful humour not to be Englished politely. Just as the onlookers would become interested in the progress of one or the other,[page 163] a too rapid advance by either would result in an incomprehensible wholesale clearing of the board by his opponent's sleeve. Yet without a stop the pieces would be replaced in order, and a new game commenced, the vanquished too proud to acknowledge that he did not quite see how the victor had won.

Then Fattah, whose forte was mimicry, attracted the attention of the company by a representation of a fat wazeer at prayers. Amid roars of laughter he succeeded in rising to his feet with the help of those beside him, who had still to lend occasional support, as his knees threatened to give way under his apparently ponderous carcase. Before and behind, his shirt was well stuffed with cushions, and the sides were not forgotten. His cheeks were puffed out to the utmost, and his eyes rolled superbly. At last the moment came for him to go on his knees, when he had to be let gently down by those near him, but his efforts to bow his head, now top-heavy with a couple of shirts for a turban, were most ludicrous, as he fell on one side in apparently vain endeavours. The spectators roared with laughter till the tears coursed down their cheeks; but that black and solemn face remained unmoved, and at the end of the prescribed motions the pseudo-great man apparently fell into slumber as heavy as himself, and snored in a style that a prize pig might have envied.

"Áfuk! Áfuk!" the deafening bravos resounded, for Fattah had excelled himself, and was amply rewarded by the collection which followed.

A tale was next demanded from a jovial man of Fez, who, nothing loth, began at once—

[page 164]

"Evening was falling as across the plain of Háhá trudged a weary traveller. The cold wind whistled through his tattered garments. The path grew dim before his eyes. The stars came out one by one, but no star of hope shone for him. He was faint and hungry. His feet were sore. His head ached. He shivered.

"'May God have pity on me!' he muttered.

"God heard him. A few minutes later he descried an earthly star—a solitary light was twinkling on the distant hillside. Thitherward he turned his steps.

"Hope rose within him. His step grew brisk. The way seemed clear. Onward he pushed.

"Presently he could make out the huts of a village.

"'Thank God!' he cried; but still he had no supper.

"His empty stomach clamoured. His purse was empty also. The fiendish dogs of the village yelped at him. He paused discomfited. He called.

"Widow Záïdah stood before her light.

"'Who's there?'

"'A God-guest'

"'In God's name, then, welcome! Silence there, curs!'

"Abd el Hakk approached.

"'God bless thee, my mother, and repay thee a thousand-fold!'

"But Záïdah herself was poor. Her property consisted only of a hut and some fowls. She set before him eggs—two, hard-boiled,—bread also. He thanked God. He ate.

"'Yes, God will repay,' she said.

"Next day Abd el Hakk passed on to Marrákesh. There God blessed him. Years passed on; one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Abd el Hakk[page 165] was rich. Melûdi the lawyer disliked him. Said he to Widow Záïdah—

"'Abd el Hakk, whom once thou succouredst, is rich. The two eggs were never yet paid for. Hadst thou not given them to him they would have become two chickens. These would each have laid hundreds. Those hundreds, when hatched, would have laid their thousands. In seven years, think to what amount Abd el Hakk is indebted to thee. Sue him.'

"Widow Záïdah listened. What is more, she acted. Abd el Hakk failed to appear to rebut the claim. He was worth no more.

"'Why is the defendant not here?' asked the judge.

"'My lord,' said his attorney, 'he is gone to sow boiled beans.'

"'Boiled beans!'

"'Boiled beans, my lord.'

"'Is he mad?'

"'He is very wise, my lord.'

"'Thou mockest.'

"'My lord, if boiled eggs can be hatched, sure boiled beans will grow!'

"'Dismissed with costs!'

"The tree that bends with every wind that blows will seldom stand upright."

A round of applause greeted the clever tale, of which the speaker's gestures had told even more than his words. But the merriment of the company only began there, for forthwith a babel of tongues was occupied in the discussion of all the points of the case, in imagining every impossible or humorous alternative, and laughter resounded on every side, as the glasses were quickly refilled with an innocent drink.

[page 166]

XX

THE MEDICINE-MAN

"Wine is a key to all evil."

Moorish Proverb.

Under the glare of an African sun, its rays, however, tempered by a fresh Atlantic breeze; no roof to his consulting-room save the sky, no walls surrounding him to keep off idle starers like ourselves; by the roadside sits a native doctor of repute. His costume is that of half the crowd around, outwardly consisting of a well-worn brown woollen cloak with a hood pulled over his head, from beneath the skirts of which protrude his muddy feet. By his side lies the basket containing his supplies and less delicate instruments; the finer ones we see him draw from a capacious wallet of leather beneath his cloak.

Though personally somewhat gaunt, he is nevertheless a jolly-looking character, totally free from that would-be professional air assumed by some of our medical students to hide lack of experience; for he, empiric though he be, has no idea of any of his own shortcomings, and greets us with an easy smile. He is seated on the ground, hugging his knees till his attention is drawn to us, when, observing our gaze at his lancets on the ground, he picks one up to show it. Both are of rude construction, merely pieces of flat steel filed to double-edged points, and[page 167] protected by two flaps slightly bigger, in the one case of bone, in the other of brass. A loose rivet holding all together at one end completes the instrument. The brass one he says was made by a Jew in Fez out of an old clock; the other by a Jew in Marrákesh. For the purpose of making scratches for cupping he has a piece of flat steel about half an inch wide, sharpened across the end chisel-fashion. Then he has a piece of an old razor-blade tied to a stick with a string. That this is sharp he soon demonstrates by skilfully shaving an old man's head, after only damping the eighth of an inch stub with which it is covered. A stone and a bit of leather, supplemented by the calves of his legs, or his biceps, serve to keep the edges in condition.

From a finger-shaped leather bag in his satchel he produces an antiquated pair of tooth extractors, a small pair of forceps for pulling out thorns, and a stiletto. The first-named article, he informs us, came from France to Tafilált, his home, viâ Tlemçen; it is of the design known as "Fox's claw," and he explains to us that the difference between the French and the English article is that the one has no spring to keep the jaws open, while the other has. A far more formidable instrument is the genuine native contrivance, a sort of exaggerated corkscrew without a point.

But here comes a patient to be treated. He troubles the doctor with no diagnosis, asking only to be bled. He is a youth of medium height, bronzed by the sun. Telling him to sit down and bare his right arm, the operator feels it well up and down, and then places the tips of the patient's fingers on the ground, bidding him not to move. Pouring out[page 168] a little water into a metal dish, he washes the arm on the inside of the elbow, drying it with his cloak. Next he ties a piece of list round the upper arm as tightly as he can, and selecting one of the lancets, makes an incision into the vein which the washing has rendered visible. A bright stream issues, squirting into the air some fifteen inches; it is soon, however, directed into a tin soup-plate holding fourteen ounces, as we ascertained by measurement. The operator washes and dries his lancet, wraps the two in a white rag, and puts them into a piece of cane which forms an excellent case. Meanwhile the plate has filled, and he turns his attention once more to the patient. One or two passers-by have stopped, like ourselves, to look on.

"I knew a man," says one, "who was being bled like that, and kept on saying, 'take a little more,' till he fell back dead in our arms."

"Yes," chimes in another, "I have heard of such cases; it is very dangerous."

Although the patient is evidently growing very nervous, our surgical friend affects supreme indifference to all this tittle-tattle, and after a while removes the bandage, bending the forearm inward, with the effect of somewhat checking the flow of blood. When he has bound up with list the cane that holds the lancets, he closes the forearm back entirely, so that the flow is stopped. Opening it again a little, he wipes a sponge over the aperture a few times, and closes it with his thumb. Then he binds a bit of filthy rag round the arm, twisting it above and below the elbow alternately, and crossing over the incision each time. When this is done, he sends the patient to throw away the blood and wash[page 169] the plate, receiving for the whole operation the sum of three half-pence.

Another patient is waiting his turn, an old man desiring to be bled behind the ears for headache. After shaving two patches for the purpose, the "bleeder," as he is justly called, makes eighteen scratches close together, about half an inch long. Over these he places a brass cup of the shape of a high Italian hat without the brim. From near the edge of this protrudes a long brass tube with a piece of leather round and over the end. This the operator sucks to create a vacuum, the moistened leather closing like a valve, which leaves the cup hanging in situ. Repeating this on the other side, he empties the first cup of the blood which has by this time accumulated in it, and so on alternately, till he has drawn off what appears to him to be sufficient. All that remains to be done is to wipe the wounds and receive the fee.

Some years ago such a worthy as this earned quite a reputation for exorcising devils in Southern Morocco. His mode of procedure was brief, but as a rule effective. The patient was laid on the ground before the wise man's tent, face downward, and after reading certain mystic and unintelligible passages, selected from one of the ponderous tomes which form a prominent part of the "doctor's" stock-in-trade, he solemnly ordered two or three men to hold the sufferer down while two more thrashed him till they were tired. If, when released, the patient showed the least sign of returning violence, or complained that the whole affair was a fraud, it was taken as a sure sign that he had not had enough, and he was forthwith seized again[page 170] and the dose repeated till he had learned that discretion was the better part of valour, and slunk off, perhaps a wiser, certainly a sadder man. It is said, and I do not doubt it—though it is more than most medical men can say of their patients—that no one was ever known to return in quest of further treatment.

All this, however, is nothing compared with the Moor's love of fire as a universal panacea. Not only for his mules and his horses, but also for himself and his family, cauterization is in high repute, especially as he estimates the value of a remedy as much by its immediate and visible action as by its ultimate effects. The "fire-doctor" is therefore even a greater character in his way than the "bleeder," whom we have just visited. His outfit includes a collection of queer-shaped irons designed to cauterize different parts of the body, a portable brazier, and bellows made from a goat-skin with a piece of board at one side wherewith to press and expel the air through a tube on the other side. He, too, sits by the roadside, and disposes of his groaning though wonderfully enduring "patients" much as did his rival of the lancet. Rohlfs, a German doctor who explored parts of Morocco in the garb of a native, exercising what he could of his profession for a livelihood, tells how he earned a considerable reputation by the introduction of "cold fire" (lunar caustic) as a rival to the original style; and Pellow, an English slave who made his escape in 1735, found cayenne pepper of great assistance in ingratiating himself with the Moors in this way, and even in delaying a pursuer suffering from ophthalmia by blowing a little into his eyes before his identity[page 171] was discovered. In extenuation of this trick, however, it must be borne in mind that cayenne pepper is an accredited Moorish remedy for ophthalmia, being placed on the eyelids, though it is only a mixture of canary seed and sugar that is blown in.

Every European traveller in Morocco is supposed to know something about medicine, and many have been my own amusing experiences in this direction. Nothing that I used gave me greater fame than a bottle of oil of cantharides, the contents of which I applied freely behind the ears or upon the temples of such victims of ophthalmia as submitted themselves to my tender mercies. Only I found that when my first patient began to dance with the joy and pain of the noble blister which shortly arose, so many people fancied they needed like treatment that I was obliged to restrict the use of so popular a cure to special cases.

One branch of Moroccan medicine consists in exorcising devils, of which a most amusing instance once came under my notice. An English gentleman gave one of his servants who complained of being troubled with these unwelcome guests two good-sized doses of tartaric acid and carbonate of soda a second apart. The immediate exit of the devil was so apparent that the fame of the prescriber as a medical man was made at once. But many of the cases which the amateur is called upon to treat are much more difficult to satisfy than this. Superstition is so strongly mingled with the native ideas of disease,—of being possessed,—that the two can hardly be separated. During an epidemic of cholera, for instance, the people keep as close as possible to[page 172] walls, and avoid sand-hills, for fear of "catching devils." All disease is indeed more or less ascribed to satanic agency, and in Morocco that practitioner is most in repute who claims to attack this cause of the malady rather than its effect.

Although the Moors have a certain rudimentary acquaintance with simple medicinal agents—and how rudimentary that acquaintance is, will better appear from what is to follow,—in all their pharmacopœia no remedy is so often recommended or so implicitly relied on as the "writing" of a man of reputed sanctity. Such a writing may consist merely of a piece of paper scribbled over with the name of God, or with some sentence from the Korán, such as, "And only God is the Healer," repeated many times, or in special cases it may contain a whole series of pious expressions and meaningless incantations. For an ordinary external complaint, such as general debility arising from the evil eye of a neighbour or a jealous wife, or as a preventative against bewitchment, or as a love philtre, it is usually considered sufficient to wear this in a leather bag around the neck or forehead; but in case of unfathomable internal disease, such as indigestion, the "writing" is prescribed to be divided into so many equal portions, and taken in a little water night and morning.

The author of these potent documents is sometimes a hereditary saint descended from Mohammed, sometimes a saint whose sanctity arises from real or assumed insanity—for to be mad in Barbary is to have one's thoughts so occupied with things of heaven as to have no time left for things of earth,—and often they are written by ordinary public[page 173] scribes, or schoolmasters, for among the Moors reading and religion are almost synonymous terms. There are, however, a few professional gentlemen who dispense these writings among their drugs. Such alone of all their quacks aspire to the title of "doctor." Most of these spend their time wandering about the country from fair to fair, setting up their tents wherever there are patients to be found in sufficient numbers.

Attired as natives, let us visit one. Arrived at the tent door, we salute the learned occupant with the prescribed "Salám oo alaïkum" ("To you be peace"), to which, on noting our superior costumes, he replies with a volley of complimentary inquiries and welcomes. These we acknowledge with dignity, and with as sedate an air as possible. We leisurely seat ourselves on the ground in orthodox style, like tailors. As it would not be good form to mention our business at once, we defer professional consultation till we have inquired successfully after his health, his travels, and the latest news at home and from abroad. In the course of conversation he gives us to understand that he is one of the Sultan's uncles, which is by no means impossible in a country where it has not been an unknown thing for an imperial father to lose count of his numerous progeny.

Feeling at last that we have broken the ice, we turn the conversation to the subject of our supposed ailments. My own complaint is a general internal disorder resulting in occasional feverishness, griping pains, and loss of sleep. After asking a number of really sensible questions, such as would seem to place him above the ordinary rank of native practitioners, he gravely announces that he has "the[page 174] very thing" in the form of a powder, which, from its high virtues, and the exceeding number of its ingredients, some of them costly, is rather expensive. We remember the deference with which our costumes were noted, and understand. But, after all, the price of a supply is announced to be only seven-pence halfpenny. The contents of some of the canisters he shows us include respectively, according to his account, from twenty to fifty drugs. For our own part, we strongly suspect that all are spices to be procured from any Moorish grocer.

Together with the prescription I receive instructions to drink the soup from a fat chicken in the morning, and to eat its flesh in the evening; to eat hot bread and drink sweet tea, and to do as little work as possible, the powder to be taken daily for a fortnight in a little honey. Whatever else he may not know, it is evident that our doctor knows full well how to humour his patients.

The next case is even more easy of treatment than mine, a "writing" only being required. On a piece of very common paper two or three inches square, the doctor writes something of which the only legible part is the first line: "In the name of God, the Pitying, the Pitiful," followed, we subsequently learn, by repetitions of "Only God is the Healer." For this the patient is to get his wife to make a felt bag sewed with coloured silk, into which the charm is to be put, along with a little salt and a few parings of garlic, after which it is to be worn round his neck for ever.

Sometimes, in wandering through Morocco, one comes across much more curious remedies than these, for the worthy we have just visited is but a[page 175] commonplace type in this country. A medical friend once met a professional brother in the interior who had a truly original method of proving his skill. By pressing his finger on the side of his nose close to his eye, he could send a jet of liquid right into his interlocutor's face, a proceeding sufficient to satisfy all doubts as to his alleged marvellous powers. On examination it was found that he had a small orifice near the corner of the eye, through which the pressure forced the lachrymal fluid, pure tears, in fact. This is just an instance of the way in which any natural defect or peculiarity is made the most of by these wandering empirics, to impose on their ignorant and credulous victims.

Even such of them as do give any variety of remedies are hardly more to be trusted. Whatever they give, their patients like big doses, and are not content without corresponding visible effects. Epsom salts, which are in great repute, are never given to a man in less quantities than two tablespoonfuls. On one occasion a poor woman came to me suffering from ague, and looking very dejected. I mixed this quantity of salts in a tumblerful of water, with a good dose of quinine, bidding her drink two-thirds of it, and give the remainder to her daughter, who evidently needed it as much as she did. Her share was soon disposed of with hardly more than a grimace, to the infinite enjoyment of a fat, black slave-girl who was standing by, and who knew from personal experience what a tumblerful meant. But to induce the child to take hers was quite another matter. "What! not drink it?" the mother cried, as she held the potion to her lips. "The devil take thee, thou cursed offspring of[page 176] an abandoned woman! May God burn thy ancestors!" But though the child, accustomed to such mild and motherly invectives, budged not, it had proved altogether too much for the jovial slave, who was by this time convulsed with laughter, and so, I may as well confess, was I. At last the woman's powers of persuasion were exhausted, and she drained the glass herself.

When in Fez some years ago, a dog I had with me needed dosing, so I got three drops of croton oil on sugar made ready for him. Mine host, a man of fifty or more, came in meanwhile, and having ascertained the action of the drug from my servant, thought it might possibly do him good, and forthwith swallowed it. Of this the first intimation I had was from the agonizing screams of the old man, who loudly proclaimed that his last hour was come, and from the terrified wails of the females of his household, who thought so too. When I saw him he was rolling on the tiles of the courtyard, his heels in the air, bellowing frantically. I need hardly dilate upon the relief I felt when at last we succeeded in alleviating his pain, and knew that he was out of danger.

Among the favourite remedies of Morocco, hyena's head powder ranks high as a purge, and the dried bones and flesh may often be seen in the native spice-shops, coated with dust as they hang. Some of the prescriptions given are too filthy to repeat, almost to be believed. As a specimen, by no means the worst, I may mention a recipe at one time in favour among the Jewesses of Mogador, according to one writer. This was to drink seven draughts from the town drain where it entered the[page 177] sea, beaten up with seven eggs. For diseases of the "heart," by which they mean the stomach and liver, and of eyes, joints, etc., a stone, which is found in an animal called the horreh, the size of a small walnut, and valued as high as twelve dollars, is ground up and swallowed, the patient thereafter remaining indoors a week. Ants, prepared in various ways, are recommended for lethargy, and lion's flesh for cowardice. Privet or mallow leaves, fresh honey, and chameleons split open alive, are considered good for wounds and sores, while the fumes from the burning of the dried body of this animal are often inhaled. Among more ordinary remedies are saraparilla, senna, and a number of other well-known herbs and roots, whose action is more or less understood. Roasted pomegranate rind in powder is found really effectual in dysentery and diarrhœa.

Men and women continually apply for philtres, and women for means to prevent their husbands from liking rival wives, or for poison to put them out of the way. As arsenic, corrosive sublimate, and other poisons are sold freely to children in every spice-shop, the number of unaccounted-for deaths is extremely large, but inquiry is seldom or never made. When it is openly averred that So-and-so died from "a cup of tea," the only mental comment seems to be that she was very foolish not to be more careful what she drank, and to see that whoever prepared it took the first sip according to custom. The highest recommendation of any particular dish or spice is that it is "heating." Great faith is also placed in certain sacred rocks, tree-stumps, etc., which are visited in the hope of obtaining relief from all sorts of ailments. Visitors [page 178] often leave rags torn from their garments by which to be remembered by the guardian of the place. Others repair to the famous sulphur springs of Zarhôn, supposed to derive their benefit from the interment close by of a certain St. Jacob—and dance in the waters, yelling without intermission, "Cold and hot, O my lord Yakoob! Cold and hot!" fearful lest any cessation of the cry might permit the temperature to be increased or diminished beyond the bearable point.

[page 179]

XXI

THE HUMAN MART

"Who digs a pit for his brother will fall into it."

Moorish Proverb.

The slave-market differs in no respect from any other in Morocco, save in the nature of the "goods" exposed. In most cases the same place is used for other things at other times, and the same auctioneers are employed to sell cattle. The buyers seat themselves round an open courtyard, in the closed pens of which are the slaves for sale. These are brought out singly or in lots, inspected precisely as cattle would be, and expatiated upon in much the same manner.

For instance, here comes a middle-aged man, led slowly round by the salesman, who is describing his "points" and noting bids. He has first-class muscles, although he is somewhat thin. He is made to lift a weight to prove his strength. His thighs are patted, and his lips are turned to show the gums, which at merrier moments would have been visible without such a performance. With a shame-faced, hang-dog air he trudges round, wondering what will be his lot, though a sad one it is already. At last he is knocked down for so many score of dollars, and after a good deal of further bargaining he changes hands.

[page 180]

The next brought forward are three little girls—a "job lot," maybe ten, thirteen, and sixteen years of age—two of them evidently sisters. They are declared to be already proficient in Arabic, and ready for anything. Their muscles are felt, their mouths examined, and their bodies scrutinized in general, while the little one begins to cry, and the others look as though they would like to keep her company. Round and round again they are marched, but the bids do not rise high enough to effect a sale, and they are locked up again for a future occasion. It is indeed a sad, sad sight.

The sources of supply for the slave-market are various, but the chief is direct from Guinea and the Sáhara, where the raids of the traders are too well understood to need description. Usually some inter-tribal jealousy is fostered and fanned into a flame, and the one which loses is plundered of men and goods. Able-bodied lads and young girls are in most demand, and fetch high prices when brought to the north. The unfortunate prisoners are marched with great hardship and privation to depôts over the Atlas, where they pick up Arabic and are initiated into Mohammedanism. To a missionary who once asked one of the dealers how they found their way across the desert, the terribly significant reply was, "There are many bones along the way!" After a while the survivors are either exposed for sale in the markets of Marrákesh or Fez, or hawked round from door to door in the coast towns, where public auctions are prohibited. Some have even found their way to Egypt and Constantinople, having been transported in British vessels, and landed at Gibraltar as members of the dealer's family!

[page 181]

Another source of supply is the constant series of quarrels between the tribes of Morocco itself, during which many children are carried off who are white or nearly so. In this case the victims are almost all girls, for whom good prices are to be obtained. This opens a door for illegal supplies, children born of slaves and others kidnapped being thus disposed of for hareems. For this purpose the demand for white girls is much in excess of that for black, so that great temptation is offered. I knew a man who had seventeen such in his house, and of nearly a dozen whom I saw there, none were too dark to have passed for English brunettes.

Though nothing whatever can be said in defence of this practice of tearing our fellow-men from their homes, and selling them as slaves, our natural feelings of horror abate considerably when we become acquainted with its results under the rule of Islám. Instead of the fearful state of things which occurred under English or American rule, it is a pleasure to find that, whatever may be the shortcomings of the Moors, in this case, at any rate, they have set us a good example. Even their barbarous treatment of Christian slaves till within a century was certainly no worse than our treatment of black slaves.

To begin with, Mohammedans make no distinction in civil or religious rights between a black skin and a white. So long as a man avows belief in no god but God, and in Mohammed as the prophet of God, complying with certain outward forms of his religion, he is held to be as good a Muslim as anyone else; and as the whole social and civil fabrics are built upon religion and the teachings of the Korán, the social position of every well-behaved[page 182] Mohammedan is practically equal. The possession of authority of any kind will naturally command a certain amount of respectful attention, and he who has any reason for seeking a favour from another is sure to adopt a more subservient mien; but beyond this, few such class distinctions are known as those common in Europe. The slave who, away from home, can behave as a gentleman, will be received as such, irrespective of his colour, and when freed he may aspire to any position under the Sultan. There are, indeed, many instances of black men having been ministers, governors, and even ambassadors to Europe, and such appointments are too common to excite astonishment. They have even, in the past, assisted in giving rise to the misconception that the people of Morocco were "Black-a-Moors."

In many households the slave becomes the trusted steward of his owner, and receives a sufficient allowance to live in comfort. He will possess a paper giving him his freedom on his master's death, and altogether he will have a very good time of it. The liberation of slaves is enjoined upon those who follow Mohammed as a most praiseworthy act, and as one which cannot fail to bring its own reward. But, like too many in our own land, they more often prefer to make use of what they possess till they start on that journey on which they can take nothing with them, and then affect generosity by bestowing upon others that over which they lose control.

One poor fellow whom I knew very well, who had been liberated on the death of his master, having lost his papers, was re-kidnapped and sold again to a man who was subsequently imprisoned for[page 183] fraud, when he got free and worked for some years as porter; but he was eventually denounced and put in irons in a dungeon as part of the property of his soi-disant master.

The ordinary place of the slave is much that of the average servant, but receiving only board, lodging, and scanty clothing, without pay, and being unable to change masters. Sometimes, however, they are permitted to beg or work for money to buy their own freedom, when they become, as it were, their own masters. On the whole, a jollier, harder-working, or better-tempered lot than these Negroes it would be hard to desire, and they are as light-hearted, fortunately, as true-hearted, even in the midst of cruel adversities.

The condition of a woman slave—to which, also, most of what has been said refers—is as much behind that of a man-slave as is that of a free-woman behind that of her lord. If she becomes her master's wife, the mother of a child, she is thereby freed, though she must remain in his service until his death, and she is only treated as an animal, not as a human being.

After all, there is a dark side—one sufficiently dark to need no intensifying. The fact of one man being the possessor of another, just as much as he could be of a horse or cow, places him in the same position with regard to his "chattel" as to such a four-footed animal. "The merciful man is merciful to his beast," but "the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel," and just as one man will ill-treat his beast, while another treats his well, so will one man persecute his slave. Instances of this are quite common enough, and here and there cases [page 184] could be brought forward of revolting brutality, as in the story which follows, but the great thing is that agricultural slavery is practically unknown, and that what exists is chiefly domestic. "Know the slave," says an Arab proverb, "and you know the master."

[page 185]

XXII

A SLAVE-GIRL'S STORY

"After many adversities, joy."

Moorish Proverb.

Outside the walls of Mazagan an English traveller had pitched his camp. Night had fallen when one of his men, returning from the town, besought admission to the tent.

"Well, how now?"

"Sir, I have a woman here, by thy leave, yes, a woman, a slave, whom I found at the door of thy consulate, where she had taken refuge, but the police guard drove her away, so I brought her to thee for justice. Have pity on her, and God will reward thee! See, here! Rabhah!"

At this bidding there approached a truly pitiable object, a dark-skinned woman, not quite black, though of decidedly negroid appearance—whose tattered garments scarcely served to hide a half-starved form. Throwing herself on the ground before the foreigner, she begged his pity, his assistance, for the sake of the Pitiful God.

"Oh, Bashador," she pleaded, addressing him as though a foreign envoy, "I take refuge with God and with thee! I have no one else. I have fled from my master, who has cruelly used me. See my back!"

[page 186]

Suiting action to word, she slipped aside the coverings from her shoulder and revealed the weals of many a stripe, tears streaming down her face the while. Her tones were such as none but a heart of stone could ignore.

"I bore it ten days, sir, till I could do so no longer, and then I escaped. It was all to make me give false witness—from which God deliver me—for that I will never do. My present master is the Sheïkh bin Záharah, Lieutenant Kaïd of the Boo Azeezi, but I was once the slave-wife of the English agent, who sold me again, though they said that he dare not, because of his English protection. That was why I fled for justice to the English consul, and now come to thee. For God's sake, succour me!"

With a sob her head fell forward on her breast, as again she crouched at the foreigner's feet, till made to rise and told to relate her whole story quietly. When she was calmer, aided by questions, she unfolded a tale which could, alas! be often paralleled in Morocco.

"My home? How can I tell thee where that was, when I was brought away so early? All I know is that it was in the Sûdán" (i.e. Land of the Blacks), "and that I came to Mogador on my mother's back. In my country the slave-dealers lie in wait outside the villages to catch the children when they play. They put them in bags like those used for grain, with their heads left outside the necks for air. So they are carried off, and travel all the way to this country slung on mules, being set down from time to time to be fed. But I, though born free, was brought by my mother, who had been carried[page 187] off as a slave. The lines cut on my cheek show that, for every free-born child in our country is marked so by its mother. That is our sultan's order. In Mogador my mother's master sold me to a man who took me from her, and brought me to Dár el Baïda. They took away my mother first; they dragged her off crying, and I never saw or heard of her again. When she was gone I cried for her, and could not eat till they gave me sugar and sweet dates. At Dár el Baïda I was sold in the market auction to a shareefa named Lálla Moïna, wife of the mountain scribe who taught the kádi's children. With her I was very happy, for she treated me well, and when she went to Mekka on the pilgrimage she let me go out to work on my own account, promising to make me free if God brought her back safely. She was good to me, Bashador, but though she returned safely she always put off making me free; but I had laid by fifteen dollars, and had bought a boxful of clothes as well. And that was where my trouble began. For God's sake succour me!

"One day the agent saw me in the street, and eyed me so that I was frightened of him. He followed me home, and then sent a letter offering to buy me, but my mistress refused. Then the agent often came to the house, and I had to wait upon him. He told me that he wanted to buy me, and that if he did I should be better off than if I were free, but I refused to listen. When the agent was away his man Sarghîni used to come and try to buy me, but in vain; and when the agent returned he threatened to bring my mistress into trouble if she refused. At last she had to yield, and I cried[page 188] when I had to go. 'Thou art sold to that man,' she said; 'but as thou art a daughter to me, he has promised to take care of thee and bring thee back whenever I wish.'

"Sarghîni took me out by one gate with the servants of the agent, who took care to go out with a big fat Jew by another, that the English consul should not see him go out with a woman. We rode on mules, and I wore a white cloak; I had not then begun to fast" (i.e. was not yet twelve years of age). "After two days on the road the agent asked for the key of my box, in which he found my fifteen dollars, tied up in a rag, and took them, but gave me back my clothes. We were five days travelling to Marrákesh, staying each night with a kaïd who treated us very well. So I came to the agent's house.

"There I found many other slave girls, besides men slaves in the garden. These were Ruby, bought in Saffi, by whom the agent had a daughter; and Star, a white girl stolen from her home in Sûs, who had no children; Jessamine the Less, another white girl bought in Marrákesh, mother of one daughter; Jessamine the Greater, whose daughter was her father's favourite, loaded with jewels; and others who cooked or served, not having children, though one had a son who died. There were thirteen of us under an older slave who clothed and fed us.

"When the bashador came to the house the agent shut all but five or six of us in a room, the others waiting on him. I used to have to cook for the bashador, for whom they had great receptions with music and dancing-women. Next door there was a [page 189] larger house, a fandak, where the agent kept public women and boys, and men at the door took money from the Muslims and Nazarenes who went there. The missionaries who lived close by know the truth of what I say.

"A few days after I arrived I was bathed and dressed in fresh clothes, and taken to my master's room, as he used to call for one or another according to fancy. But I had no child, because he struck me, and I was sick. When one girl, named Amber, refused to go to him because she was ill, he dragged her off to another part of the house. Presently we heard the report of a pistol, and he came back to say she was dead. He had a pistol in his hand as long as my forearm. We found the girl in a pool of blood in agonies, and tried to flee, but had nowhere to go. So when she was quite dead he made us wash her. Then he brought in four men to dig a pit, in which he said he would bury butter. When they had gone we buried her there, and I can show you the spot.

"One day he took two men slaves and me on a journey. One of them ran away, the other was sold by the way. I was sold at the Tuesday market of Sîdi bin Nûr to a dealer in slaves, whom I heard promise my master to keep me close for three months, and not to sell me in that place lest the Nazarenes should get word of it. Some time after I was bought by a tax-collector, with whom I remained till he died, and then lived in the house of his son. This man sold me to my present master, who has ill-treated me as I told thee. Oh, Bashador, when I fled from him, I came to the English consul because I was told that the agent had had no right[page 190] to hold or sell me, since he had English protection. Thou knowest what has happened since. Here I am, at thy feet, imploring assistance. I beseech thee, turn me not away. I speak truth before God."

No one could hear such a tale unmoved, and after due inquiry the Englishman thus appealed to secured her liberty on depositing at the British Consulate the $140 paid for her by her owner, who claimed her or the money. Rabhah's story, taken down by independent persons at different times, was afterwards told by her without variation in a British Court of Law. Subsequently a pronouncement as to her freedom having been made by the British Legation at Tangier, the $140 was refunded, and she lives free to-day. The last time the writer saw her, in the service of a European in Morocco, he was somewhat taken aback to find her arms about his neck, and to have kisses showered on his shoulders for the unimportant part that he had played in securing her freedom.

[page 191]

XXIII

THE PILGRIM CAMP

"Work for the children is better than pilgrimage or holy war."

Moorish Proverb.

Year by year the month succeeding the fast of Ramadán sees a motley assemblage of pilgrims bound for Mekka, gathered at most of the North African ports from all parts of Barbary and even beyond, awaiting vessels bound for Alexandria or Jedda. This comparatively easy means of covering the distance, which includes the whole length of the Mediterranean when the pilgrims from Morocco are concerned—not to mention some two-thirds of the Red Sea,—has almost entirely superseded the original method of travelling all the way by land, in the once imposing caravans.

These historic institutions owed their importance no less to the facilities they offered for trade, than to the opportunity they afforded for accomplishing the pilgrimage which is enjoined on every follower of Mohammed. Although caravans still cross the deserts of North Africa in considerable force from west to east, as well as from south to north, to carry on the trade of the countries to the south of the Barbary States, the former are steadily dwindling down to mere local affairs, and the number of travellers who select the modern route by steamer[page 192] is yearly increasing, as its advantages become better known. For the accommodation of the large number of passengers special vessels are chartered by speculators, and are fitted up for the occasion. Only some £3 are charged for the whole journey from Tangier, a thousand pilgrims being crowded on a medium-sized merchant vessel, making the horrors of the voyage indescribable.

But the troubles of the pilgrims do not begin here. Before they could even reach the sea some of them will have travelled on foot for a month from remote parts of the interior, and at the coast they may have to endure a wearisome time of waiting for a steamer. It is while they are thus learning a lesson of patience at one of the Moorish ports that I will invite you for a stroll round their encampment on the market-place.

This consists of scores of low, makeshift tents, with here and there a better-class round one dotted amongst them. The prevailing shape of the majority is a modified edition of the dwelling of the nomad Arab, to which class doubtless belongs a fair proportion of their occupants. Across the top of two poles about five feet high, before and behind, a ridge-piece is placed, and over this is stretched to the ground on either side a long piece of palmetto or goat-hair cloth, or perhaps one of the long woollen blankets worn by men and women alike, called haïks, which will again be used for its original purpose on board the vessel. The back is formed of another piece of some sort of cloth stretched out at the bottom to form a semi-circle, and so give more room inside. Those who have a bit of rug or a light mattress, spread it on the floor,[page 193] and pile their various other belongings around its edge.

The straits to which many of these poor people are put to get a covering of any kind to shelter them from sun, rain, and wind, are often very severe, to judge from some of the specimens of tents—if they deserve the name—constructed of all sorts of odds and ends, almost anything, it would seem, that will cover a few square inches. There is one such to be seen on this busy market which deserves special attention as a remarkable example of this style of architecture. Let us examine it. The materials of which it is composed include hair-cloth, woollen-cloth, a cotton shirt, a woollen cloak, and some sacking; goat skin, sheep's fleece, straw, and palmetto cord; rush mats, a palmetto mat, split-cane baskets and wicker baskets; bits of wood, a piece of cork, bark and sticks; petroleum tins flattened out, sheet iron, zinc, and jam and other tins; an earthenware dish and a stone bottle, with bits of crockery, stones, and a cow's horn to weight some of the other items down. Now, if any one can make anything of this, which is an exact inventory of such of the materials as are visible on the outside, he must be a born architect. Yet here this extraordinary construction stands, as it has stood for several months, and its occupant looks the jolliest fellow out. Let us pay him a visit.

Stooping down to look under the flap which serves as a door, and raising it with my stick, I greet him with the customary salutation of "Peace be with you." "With you be peace," is the cheery reply, to which is added, "Welcome to thee; make[page 194] thyself at home." Although invited to enter, I feel quite enough at home on the outside of his dwelling, so reply that I have no time to stay, as I only "looked in" to have the pleasure of making his acquaintance and examining his "palace." At the last word one or two bystanders who have gathered round indulge in a little chuckle to themselves, overhearing which I turn round and make the most flattering remarks I can think of as to its beauty, elegance, comfort, and admirable system of ventilation, which sets the whole company, tenant included, into a roar of laughter. Mine host is busy cleaning fish, and now presses us to stay and share his evening meal with him, but our appetites are not quite equal to that yet, though it is beyond doubt that the morsel he would offer us would be as savoury and well cooked as could be supplied by any restaurant in Piccadilly.

Inquiries elicit the fact that our friend is hoping to leave for Mekka by the first steamer, and that meanwhile he supports himself as a water-carrier, proudly showing us his goat-skin "bottle" lying on the floor, with the leather flap he wears between it and his side to protect him from the damp. Here, too, are his chain and bell, with the bright brass and tin cups. In fact, he is quite a "swell" in his way, and, in spite of his uncouth-looking surroundings, manages to enjoy life by looking on the bright side of things.

"What will you do with your palace when you leave it?" we ask, seeing that it could not be moved unless the whole were jumbled up in a sack, when it would be impossible to reconstruct it.

[page 195]

"Oh, I'd let it to some one else."

"For how much?"

"Well, that I'd leave to God."

A glance round the interior of this strange abode shows that there are still many materials employed in its construction which might have been enumerated. One or two bundles, a box and a basket round the sides, serve to support the roof, and from the ridge-pole hangs a bundle which we are informed contains semolina. I once saw such a bundle suspended from a beam in a village mosque in which I had passed the night in the guise of a pious Muslim, and, observing its dusty condition, inquired how it came there.

"A traveller left it there about a year and a half ago, and has not yet come for it," was the reply; to judge from which it might remain till Doomsday—a fact which spoke well for the honesty of the country folk in that respect at least, although I learned that they were notorious highwaymen.

Though the roof admits daylight every few inches, the occupier remarks that it keeps the sun and rain off fairly well, and seems to think none the worse of it for its transparent faults. A sick woman lying in a native hut with a thatched roof hardly in better condition than this one, remarked when a visitor observed a big hole just above her pallet bed—

"Oh, it's so nice in the summer time; it lets the breeze in so delightfully!"

It was then the depth of winter, and she had had to shift her position once or twice to avoid the rain which came through that hole. What a lesson[page 196] in making the best of things did not that ignorant invalid teach!

Having bid the amiable water-carrier "à Dieu,"—literally as well as figuratively—we turn towards a group of tents further up, whence a white-robed form has been beckoning us. After the usual salutations have been exchanged, the eager inquiry is made, "Is there a steamer yet?"

"No; I've nothing to do with steamers—but there's sure to be one soon."

A man who evidently disbelieves me calls out, "I've got my money for the passage, and I'll hire a place with you, only bring the ship quickly."

Since their arrival in Tangier they have learnt to call a steamer, which they have never seen before,—or even the sea,—a "bábor," a corruption of the Spanish "vapor," for Arabic knows neither "v" nor "p."

Another now comes forward to know if there is an eye-doctor in the place, for there is a mist before his eyes, as he is well-advanced in the decline of life. The sound of the word "doctor" brings up a few more of the bystanders, who ask if I am one, and as I reply in the negative, they ask who can cure their ears, legs, stomachs, and what not. I explain where they may find an excellent doctor, who will be glad to do all he can for them gratis—whereat they open their eyes incredulously,—and that for God's sake, in the name of Seyïdná Aïsa ("Our Lord Jesus"), which they appreciate at once with murmurs of satisfaction, though they are not quite satisfied until they have ascertained by further questioning that he receives no support from his own or any other government. Hearing the name[page 197] of Seyïdná Aïsa, one of the group breaks out into "El hamdu l'Illah, el hamdu l'Illah" ("Praise be to God"), a snatch of a missionary hymn to a "Moody and Sankey" tune, barely recognizable as he renders it. He has only been here a fortnight, and disclaims all further knowledge of the hymn or where he heard it.

Before another tent hard by sits a native barber, bleeding a youth from a vein in the arm, for which the fee is about five farthings. As one or two come round to look on, he remarks, in an off-hand way—probably with a view to increasing his practice—that "all the pilgrims are having this done; it's good for the internals."

As we turn round to pass between two of the tents to the row beyond, our progress is stayed by a cord from the ridge of one to that of another, on which are strung strips of what appear at first sight to be leather, but on a closer inspection are found to be pieces of meat, tripe, and apparently chitterlings, hung out to dry in a sun temperature of from 90° to 100° Fahrenheit. Thus is prepared a staple article of diet for winter consumption when fresh meat is dear, or for use on journeys, and this is all the meat these pilgrims will taste till they reach Mekka, or perhaps till they return. Big jars of it, with the interstices filled up with butter, are stowed away in the tents "among the stuff." It is called "khalia," and is much esteemed for its tasty and reputed aphrodisiac qualities—two ideals in Morocco cookery,—so that it commands a relatively good price in the market.

The inmates of the next tent we look into are a woman and two men, lying down curled up asleep[page 198] in their blankets, while a couple more of the latter squat at the door. Having noticed our curious glances at their khalia, they, with the expressive motion of the closed fist which in native gesture-parlance signifies first-rate, endeavour to impress us with a sense of its excellence, which we do not feel inclined to dispute after all we have eaten on former occasions. This brings us to inquire what else these wanderers provide for the journey of thirteen or fourteen days one way. As bread is not to be obtained on board, at the door of the tent a tray-full of pieces are being converted into sun-dried rusks. Others are provided with a kind of very hard doughnut called "fikáks." These are flavoured with anise and carraway seeds, and are very acceptable to a hungry traveller when bread is scarce, though fearfully searching to hollow teeth.

Then there is a goodly supply of the national food, kesk'soo or siksoo, better known by its Spanish name of couscoussoo. This forms an appetizing and lordly dish, provocative of abundant eructations—a sign of good breeding in these parts, wound up with a long-drawn "Praise be to God"—at the close of a regular "tuck in" with Nature's spoon, the fist. A similar preparation is hand-rolled vermicelli, cooked in broth or milk, if obtainable. A bag of semolina and another of zummeetah—parched flour—which only needs enough moisture to form it into a paste to prepare it for consumption, are two other well-patronized items.

A quaint story comes to mind à propos of the latter, which formed part of our stock of provisions during a journey through the province of Dukkála when the incident in question occurred. A tin of[page 199] insect powder was also among our goods, and by an odd coincidence both were relegated to the pail hanging from one of our packs. Under a spreading fig-tree near the village of Smeerah, at lunch, some travelling companions offered us a cup of tea, and among other dainties placed at their disposal in return was the bag of zummeetah, of which one of them made a good meal. Later on in the day, as we rested again, he complained of fearful internal gripings, which were easily explained by the discovery of the fact that the lid of the "flea's zummeetah," as one of our men styled it, had been left open, and a hole in the sack of "man's zummeetah" had allowed the two to mix in the bottom of the pail in nearly equal proportions. When this had been explained, no one entered more heartily into the joke than its victim, which spoke very well for his good temper, considering how seriously he had been affected.

But this is rather a digression from our catalogue of the pilgrim's stock of provisions. Rancid butter melted down in pots, honey, dates, figs, raisins, and one or two similar items form the remainder. Water is carried in goat-skins or in pots made of the dried rind of a gourd, by far the most convenient for a journey, owing to their light weight and the absence of the prevailing taste of pitch imparted by the leather contrivances. Several of these latter are to be seen before the tents hanging on tripods. One of the Moors informs us that for the first day on board they have to provide their own water, after which it is found for them, but everything else they take with them. An ebony-hued son of Ham, seated by a neighbouring tent,[page 200] replies to our query as to what he is providing, "I take nothing," pointing heavenward to indicate his reliance on Divine providence.

And so they travel. The group before us has come from the Sáhara, a month's long journey overland, on foot! Yet their travels have only commenced. Can they have realized what it all means?

[page 201]

XXIV

RETURNING HOME

"He lengthened absence, and returned unwelcomed."

Moorish Proverb.

Evening is about to fall—for fall it does in these south latitudes, with hardly any twilight—and the setting sun has lit the sky with a refulgent glow that must be gazed at to be understood—the arc of heaven overspread with glorious colour, in its turn reflected by the heaving sea. One sound alone is heard as I wend my way along the sandy shore; it is the heavy thud and aftersplash of each gigantic wave, as it breaks on the beach, and hurls itself on its retreating predecessor, each climbing one step higher than the last.

There, in the distance, stands a motley group—men, women, children—straining wearied eyes to recognize the forms which crowd a cargo lighter slowly nearing land. Away in the direction of their looks I dimly see the outline of the pilgrim ship, a Cardiff coaler, which has brought close on a thousand Hájes from Port Saïd or Alexandria—men chiefly, but among them wives and children—who have paid that toilsome pilgrimage to Mekka.

The last rays of the sun alone remain as the boat strikes the shore, and as the darkness falls apace a score of dusky forms make a wild rush into[page 202] the surging waters, while an equal number rise up eager in the boat to greet their friends. So soon as they are near enough to be distinguished one from another, each watcher on the beach shouts the name of the friend he is awaiting, proud to affix, for the first time, the title Háj—Pilgrim—to his name. As only some twenty or thirty have yet landed from among so many hundreds, the number of disappointed ones who have to turn back and bide their time is proportionately large.

"Háj Mohammed! Háj Abd es-Slám! Háj el Arbi! Háj boo Sháïb! Ah, Háj Drees!" and many such ejaculations burst from their lips, together with inquiries as to whether So-and-so may be on board. One by one the weary travellers once more step upon the land which is their home, and with assistance from their friends unload their luggage.

Now a touching scene ensues. Strong men fall on one another's necks like girls, kissing and embracing with true joy, each uttering a perfect volley of inquiries, compliments, congratulations, or condolence. Then, with child-like simplicity, the stayer-at-home leads his welcome relative or friend by the hand to the spot where his luggage has been deposited, and seating themselves thereon they soon get deep into a conversation which renders them oblivious to all around, as the one relates the wonders of his journeyings, the other the news of home.

Poor creatures! Some months ago they started, full of hope, on an especially trying voyage of several weeks, cramped more closely than emigrants, exposed both to sun and rain, with hardly a change of clothing, and only the food they had brought with[page 203] them. Arrived at their destination, a weary march across country began, and was repeated after they had visited the various points, and performed the various rites prescribed by the Korán or custom, finally returning as they went, but not all, as the sorrow-stricken faces of some among the waiters on the beach had told, and the muttered exclamation, "It is written—Mektoob."

Meanwhile the night has come. The Creator's loving Hand has caused a myriad stars to shine forth from the darkness, in some measure to replace the light of day, while as each new boat-load is set down the same scenes are enacted, and the crowd grows greater and greater, the din of voices keeping pace therewith.

Donkey-men having appeared on the scene with their patient beasts, they clamour for employment, and those who can afford it avail themselves of their services to get their goods transported to the city. What goods they are, too! All sorts of products of the East done up in boxes of the most varied forms and colours, bundles, rolls, and bales. The owners are apparently mere bundles of rags themselves, but they seem no less happy for that.

Seated on an eminence at one side are several customs officers who have been delegated to inspect these goods; their flowing garments and generally superior attire afford a striking contrast to the state of the returning pilgrims, or even to that of the friends come to meet them. These officials have their guards marching up and down between and round about the groups, to see that nothing is carried off without inspection.

Little by little the crowd disperses; those whose[page 204] friends have landed escort them to their homes, leaving those who will have to continue their journey overland alone, making hasty preparations for their evening meal. The better class speedily have tents erected, but the majority will have to spend the night in the open air, probably in the rain, for it is beginning to spatter already. Fires are lit in all directions, throwing a lurid light upon the interesting picture, and I turn my horse's head towards home with a feeling of sadness, but at the same time one of thankfulness that my lot was not cast where theirs is.

[page 205]

PART II

XXV

DIPLOMACY IN MOROCCO

Moorish Proverb.

Instead of residing at the Court of the Sultan, as might be expected, the ministers accredited to the ruler of Morocco take up their abode in Tangier, where they are more in touch with Europe, and where there is greater freedom for pig-sticking. The reason for this is that the Court is not permanently settled anywhere, wintering successively at one of the three capitals, Fez, Marrákesh, or Mequinez. Every few years, when anything of note arises; when there is an accumulation of matters to be discussed with the Emperor, or when a new representative has been appointed, an embassy to Court is undertaken, usually in spring or autumn, the best times to travel in this roadless land.

What happens on these embassies has often enough been related from the point of view of the performers, but seldom from that of residents in the country who know what happens, and the following peep behind the scenes, though fortunately not typical of all, is not exaggerated. Even more might have been told under some heads. As strictly[page 206] applicable to no Power at present represented in Morocco, the record is that of an imaginary embassy from Greece some sixty or more years ago. To prevent misconception, it may be as well to add that it was written previous to the failure of the mission of Sir Charles Euan Smith.

I. The Reception

In a sloop-of-war sent all the way from the Ægean, the Ambassador and his suite sailed from Tangier to Saffi, where His Excellency was received on landing by a Royal salute from the crumbling batteries. The local governor and the Greek vice-consul awaited him on leaving the surf boat, with an escort which sadly upset the operations of women washing wool by the water-port. Outside the land-gate, beside the ancient palace, was pitched a Moorish camp awaiting his arrival, and European additions were soon erected beside it. At daybreak next morning a luncheon-party rode forward, whose duty it was to prepare the midday meal for the embassy, and to pitch the awning under which they should partake of it.

Arrived at the spot selected, Drees, the "native agent," found the village sheïkh awaiting him with ample supplies, enough for every one for a couple of days. This he carefully packed on his mules, and by the time the embassy came up, having started some time later than he, after a good breakfast, he was ready to go on again with the remainder of the muleteers and the camel-drivers to prepare the evening meal and pitch for the night a camp over which waved the flag of Greece.

Here the offerings of provisions or money were[page 207] made with equal profusion. There were bushels of kesk'soo; there were several live sheep, which were speedily despatched and put into pots to cook; there were jars of honey, of oil, and of butter; there were camel-loads of barley for the beasts of burden, and trusses of hay for their dessert; there were packets of candles by the dozen, and loaves of sugar and pounds of tea; not to speak of fowls, of charcoal, of sweet herbs, of fruits, and of minor odds and ends.

By the time the Europeans arrived, their French chef had prepared an excellent dinner, the native escort and servants squatting in groups round steaming dishes provided ready cooked by half-starved villagers. When the feasting was over, and all seemed quiet, a busy scene was in reality being enacted in the background. At a little distance from the camp, Háj Marti, the right-hand man of the agent, was holding a veritable market with the surplus mona of the day, re-selling to the miserable country folk what had been wrung from them by the authorities. The Moorish Government declared that what they paid thus in kind would be deducted from their taxes, and this was what the Minister assured his questioning wife, for though he knew better, he found it best to wink at the proceedings of his unpaid henchman.

As they proceeded inland, on the border of each local jurisdiction the escort was changed with an exhibition of "powder-play," the old one retiring as the new one advanced with the governor at its head. Thus they journeyed for about a week, till they reached the crumbling walls of palm-begirt Marrákesh.

[page 208]

The official personnel of the embassy consisted of the Minister and his secretary Nikolaki Glymenopoulos, with Ayush ben Lezrá, the interpreter. The secretary was a self-confident dandy with a head like a pumpkin and a scrawl like the footprints of a wandering hen; reputed a judge of ladies and horse-flesh; supercilious, condescending to inferiors, and the plague of his tailor. The consul, Paolo Komnenos, a man of middle age with a kindly heart, yet without force of character to withstand the evils around him, had been left in Tangier as Chargé d'Affaires, to the great satisfaction of his wife and family, who considered themselves of the crême de la crême of Tangier society, such as it was, because, however much the wife of the Minister despised the bumptiousness of Madame Komnenos, she could not omit her from her invitations, unless of the most private nature, on account of her husband's official position. Now, as Madame Mavrogordato accompanied her husband with her little son and a lady friend, the consul's wife reigned supreme.

Then there were the official attachés for the occasion, the representative of the army, a colonel of Roman nose, and eyes which required but one glass between them, a man to whom death would have been preferable to going one morning unshaved, or to failing one jot in military etiquette; and the representative of the navy, in cocked hat and gold-striped pantaloons, who found it more difficult to avoid tripping over his sword than most landsmen do to keep from stumbling over coils of rope on ship-board; beyond his costume there was little of note about him; his genial character made it easy to say "Ay, ay," to any one, but the yarns he[page 209] could spin round the camp-fire made him a general favourite. The least consequential of the party was the doctor, an army man of honest parts, who wished well to all the world. Undoubtedly he was the hardest worked of the lot, for no one else did anything but enjoy himself.

Finally there were the "officious" attachés. Every dabbler in politics abroad knows the fine distinctions between "official" and "officious" action, and how subtle are the changes which can be rung upon the two, but there was nothing of that description here. The officious attachés were simply a party of the Minister's personal friends, and two or three strangers whose influence might in after times be useful to him. One was of course a journalist, to supply the special correspondence of the Acropolis and the Hellenike Salpinx. These would afterwards be worked up into a handy illustrated volume of experiences and impressions calculated to further deceive the public with regard to Morocco and the Moors, and to secure for the Minister his patron, the longed-for promotion to a European Court. Another was necessarily the artist of the party, while the remainder engaged in sport of one kind or another.

Si Drees, the "native agent," was employed as master of horse, and superintended the native arrangements generally. With him rested every detail of camping out, and the supply of food and labour. Right and left he was the indispensable factotum, shouting himself hoarse from before dawn till after sunset, when he joined the gay blades of the Embassy in private pulls at forbidden liquors. No one worked as hard as he, and he seemed[page 210] omnipresent. The foreigners were justly thankful to have such a man, for without him all felt at sea. He appeared to know everything and to be available for every one's assistance. The only draw-back was his ignorance of Greek, or of any language but his own, yet being sharp-witted he made himself wonderfully understood by signs and a few words of the strange coast jargon, a mixture of half a dozen tongues.

The early morning was fixed for the solemn entry of the Embassy into the city, yet the road had to be lined on both sides with soldiers to keep back the thronging crowds. Amid the din of multitudes, the clashing of barbarous music, and shrill ululations of delight from native women; surrounded by an eastern blaze of sun and blended colours, rode incongruous the Envoy from Greece. His stiff, grim figure, the embodiment of officialism, in full Court dress, was supported on either hand by his secretary and interpreter, almost as resplendent as himself. Behind His Excellency rode the attachés and other officials, then the ladies; newspaper correspondents, artists, and other non-official guests, bringing up the rear. In this order the party crossed the red-flowing Tansift by its low bridge of many arches, and drew near to the gate of Marrákesh called that of the Thursday [market], Báb el Khamees.

At last they commenced to thread the narrow winding streets, their bordering roofs close packed with shrouded figures only showing an eye, who greeted them after their fashion with a piercing, long-drawn, "Yoo-yoo, yoo-yoo; yoo-yoo, yoo-yoo; yoo-yoo, yoo-yoo—oo," so novel to the strangers,[page 211] and so typical. Then they crossed the wide-open space before the Kûtûbîyah on their way to the garden which had been prepared for them, the Mamûnîyah, with its handsome residence and shady walks.

Three days had to elapse from the time of their arrival before they could see the Sultan, for they were now under native etiquette, but they had much to occupy them, much to see and think about, though supposed to remain at home and rest till the audience. On the morning of the fourth day all was bustle. Each had to array himself in such official garb as he could muster, with every decoration he could borrow, for the imposing ceremony of the presentation to the Emperor. What a business it was! what a coming and going; what noise and what excitement! It was like living in the thick of a whirling pantomime.

At length they were under way, and making towards the kasbah gate in a style surpassing that of their entry, the populace still more excited at the sight of the gold lace and cocked hats which showed what great men had come to pay their homage to their lord the Sultan. On arrival at the inmost courtyard with whitewashed, battlemented walls, and green-tiled roofs beyond, they found it thickly lined with soldiers, a clear space being left for them in the centre. Here they were all ranged on foot, the presents from King Otho placed on one side, and covered with rich silk cloths. Presently a blast of trumpets silenced the hum of voices, and the soldiers made a show of "attention" in their undrilled way, for the Sultan approached.

In a moment the great doors on the other side[page 212] flew open, and a number of gaily dressed natives in peaked red caps—the Royal body-guard—emerged, followed by five prancing steeds, magnificent barbs of different colours, richly caparisoned, led by gold-worked bridles. Then came the Master of the Ceremonies in his flowing robes and monster turban, a giant in becoming dress, and—as they soon discovered—of stentorian voice. Behind him rode the Emperor himself in stately majesty, clothed in pure white, wool-white, distinct amid the mass of colours worn by those surrounding him, his ministers. The gorgeous trappings of his white steed glittered as the proud beast arched his neck and champed his gilded bit, or tried in vain to prance. Over his head was held by a slave at his side the only sign of Royalty, a huge red-silk umbrella with a fringe to match, and a golden knob on the point, while others of the household servants flicked the flies away, or held the spurs, the cushion, the carpet, and other things which might be called for by their lord.

On his appearance deafening shouts broke forth, "God bless our Lord, and give him victory!" The rows of soldiers bowed their heads and repeated the cry with still an increase of vigour, "God bless our Lord, and give him victory!" At a motion from the Master of the Ceremonies the members of the Embassy took off their hats or helmets, and the representative of modern Greece stood there bareheaded in a broiling sun before the figure-head of ancient Barbary. As the Sultan approached the place where he stood, he drew near and offered a few stereotyped words in explanation of his errand, learned by heart, to which the Emperor replied by bidding him welcome. The Minister then handed[page 213] to him an engrossed address in a silk embroided case, which an attendant was motioned to take, the Sultan acknowledging it graciously. One by one the Minister next introduced the members of his suite, their names and qualities being shouted in awful tones by the Master of the Ceremonies, and after once more bidding them welcome, but with a scowl at the sight of Drees, His Majesty turned his horse's head, leaving them to re-mount as their steeds were brought to them. Again the music struck up with a deafening din, and the state reception was over.

But this was not to be the only interview between the Ambassador and the Sultan, for several so-called private conferences followed, at which an attendant or two and the interpreter Ayush were present. Kyrios Mavrogordato's stock of polite workable Arabic had been exhausted at the public function, and for business matters he had to rely implicitly on the services of his handy Jew. Such other notions of the language as he boasted could only be addressed to inferiors, and that but to convey the most simple of crude instructions or curses.

At the first private audience there were many matters of importance to be brought before the Sultan's notice, afterwards to be relegated to the consideration of his wazeers. This time no fuss was made, and the affair again came off in the early morning, for His Majesty rose at three, and after devotions and study transacted official business from five to nine, then breakfasting and reserving the rest of the day for recreation and further religious study.

[page 214]

II. The Interview

At the appointed time an escort waited on the Ambassador[^*] to convey him to the palace, arrived at which he was led into one of the many gardens in the interior, full of luxuriant semi-wild vegetation. In a room opening on to one side of the garden sat the Emperor, tailor-fashion, on a European sofa, elevated by a sort of daïs opposite the door. With the exception of an armchair on the lower level, to which the Ambassador was motioned after the usual formal obeisances and expressions of respect, the chamber was absolutely bare of furniture, though not lacking in beauty of decoration. The floor was of plain cut but elegant tiles, and the dado was a more intricate pattern of the same in shades of blue, green, and yellow, interspersed with black, but relieved by an abundance of greeny white. Above this, to the stalactite cornice, the walls were decorated with intricate Mauresque designs in carved white plaster, while the rich stalactite roofing of deep-red tone, just tipped with purple and gilt, made a perfect whole, and gave a feeling of repose to the design. Through the huge open horse-shoe arch of the door the light streamed between the branches of graceful creepers waving in the breeze, adding to the impression of coolness caused by the bubbling fountain outside.

"May God bless our Lord, and prolong his days!" said Ayush, bowing profoundly towards the Sultan, as the Minister concluded the repetition of his stock phrases, and seated himself.

"May it please Your Majesty," began the[page 215] Minister, in Greek, "I cannot express the honour I feel in again being commissioned to approach Your Majesty in the capacity of Ambassador from my Sovereign, King Otho of Greece."

This little speech was rendered into Arabic by Ayush to this effect—

"May God pour blessings on our Lord. The Ambassador rejoices greatly, and is honoured above measure in being sent once more by his king to approach the presence of our Lord, the high and mighty Sovereign: yes, my Lord."

"He is welcome," answered the Sultan, graciously; "we love no nation better than the Greeks. They have always been our friends."

Interpreter. "His Majesty is delighted to see Your Excellency, whom he loves from his heart, as also your mighty nation, than which none is more dear to him, and whose friendship he is ready to maintain at any cost."

Minister. "It pleases me greatly to hear Your Majesty's noble sentiments, which I, and I am sure my Government, reciprocate."

Interpreter. "The Minister is highly complimented by the gracious words of our Lord, and declares that the Greeks love no other nation on earth beside the Moors: yes, my Lord."

Sultan. "Is there anything I can do for such good friends?"

Interpreter. "His Majesty says he is ready to do anything for so good a friend as Your Excellency."

Minister. "I am deeply grateful to His Majesty. Yes, there are one or two matters which my Government would like to have settled."

[page 216]

Interpreter. "The Minister is simply overwhelmed at the thought of the consideration of our Lord, and he has some trifling matters for which perhaps he may beg our Lord's attention: yes, my Lord."

Sultan. "He has only to make them known."

Interpreter. "His Majesty will do all Your Excellency desires."

Minister. "First then, Your Majesty, there is the little affair of the Greek who was murdered last year at Azîla. I am sure that I can rely on an indemnity for his widow."

Interpreter. "The Minister speaks of the Greek who was murdered—by your leave, yes, my Lord—at Azîla last year: yes, my Lord. The Ambassador wishes him to be paid for."

Sultan. "How much does he ask?"

This being duly interpreted, the Minister replied—

"Thirty thousand dollars."

Sultan. "Half that sum would do, but we will see. What next?"

Interpreter. "His Majesty thinks that too much, but as Your Excellency says, so be it."

Minister. "I thank His Majesty, and beg to bring to his notice the imprisonment of a Greek protégé, Mesaûd bin Aûdah, at Mazagan some months ago, and to ask for his liberation and for damages. This is a most important case."

Interpreter. "The Minister wants that thief Mesaûd bin Aûdah, whom the Báshá of Mazagan has in gaol, to be let out, and he asks also for damages: yes, my Lord."

Sultan. "The man was no lawful protégé. I[page 217] can do nothing in the case. Bin Aûdah is a criminal, and cannot be protected."

Interpreter. "His Majesty fears that this is a matter in which he cannot oblige Your Excellency, much as he would like to, since the man in question is a thief. It is no use saying anything further about this."

Minister. "Then ask about that Jew Botbol, who was thrashed. Though not a protégé, His Majesty might be able to do something."

Interpreter. "His Excellency brings before our Lord a most serious matter indeed; yes, my Lord. It is absolutely necessary that redress should be granted to Maimon Botbol, the eminent merchant of Mogador whom the kaïd of that place most brutally treated last year: yes, my Lord. And this is most important, for Botbol is a great friend of His Excellency, who has taken the treatment that the poor man received very much to heart. He is sure that our Lord will not hesitate to order the payment of the damages demanded, only fifty thousand dollars."

Sultan. "In consideration of the stress the Minister lays upon this case, he shall have ten thousand dollars."

Interpreter. "His Majesty will pay Your Excellency ten thousand dollars damages."

Minister. "As that is more than I had even hoped to ask, you will duly thank His Majesty most heartily for this spontaneous generosity."

Interpreter. "The Minister says that is not sufficient from our Lord, but he will not oppose his will: yes, my Lord."

Sultan. "I cannot do more."

[page 218]

Interpreter. "His Majesty says it gives him great pleasure to pay it."

Minister. "Now there is the question of slavery. I have here a petition from a great society at Athens requesting His Majesty to consider whether he cannot abolish the system throughout his realm," handing the Sultan an elaborate Arabic scroll in Syrian characters hard to be deciphered even by the secretary to whom it is consigned for perusal; the Sultan, though an Arabic scholar, not taking sufficient interest in the matter to think of it again.

Interpreter. "There are some fanatics in the land of Greece, yes, my Lord, who want to see slavery abolished here, by thy leave, yes, my Lord, but I will explain to the Bashador that this is impossible."

Sultan. "Certainly. It is an unalterable institution. Those who think otherwise are fools. Besides, your agent Drees deals in slaves!"

Interpreter. "His Majesty will give the petition his best attention, and if possible grant it with pleasure."

Minister. "You will thank His Majesty very much. It will rejoice my fellow-countrymen to hear it. Next, a Greek firm has offered to construct the much-needed port at Tangier, if His Majesty will grant us the concession till the work be paid for by the tolls. Such a measure would tend to greatly increase the Moorish revenues."

Interpreter. "The Minister wishes to build a port at Tangier, yes, my Lord, and to hold it till the tolls have paid for it."

Sultan. "Which may not be till Doomsday.[page 219] Nevertheless, I will consent to any one making the port whom all the European representatives shall agree to appoint"—a very safe promise to make, since the Emperor knew that this agreement was not likely to be brought about till the said Domesday.