[Illustration: _Cavilla, Photo., Tangier._

ROOFS OF TANGIER FROM THE BRITISH CONSULATE, SHOWING FLAGSTAFFS OF

FOREIGN LEGATIONS.]

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 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.

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 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 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

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.

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 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, 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 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 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.

VIII

SOCIAL VISITS[4]

[4: Contributed by my wife.--B. M.]

"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 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, 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 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, 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 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.

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 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 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.

[Illustration: A MOORISH CARAVAN.]

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!"

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[5] 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.

[5: The beautiful opening prayer of the Korán.]

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 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.

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 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 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 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,

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.

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, 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 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.

XI

"DINING OUT"[6]

[6: Contributed by my wife.--B. M.]

"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 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 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 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 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.

[Illustration: _Photograph by Dr. Rudduck._

FRUIT-SELLERS.]

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 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 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."

"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 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 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.

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

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 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 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 "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.

XIV

SHOPPING[7]

[7: Contributed by my wife.--B. M.]

"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.

[Illustration: _Albert, Photo., Tunis._

A TUNISIAN SHOPKEEPER.]

There is something very attractive in the small cupboard-like shops

of the main street. Their 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 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; 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 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."

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 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.

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 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

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. 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.

[Illustration: THE SUNDAY MARKET, TANGIER.

_Cavilla, Photo., Tangier._]

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 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 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 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.

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.

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.

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 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 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, 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.

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 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 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.