ROUND ABOUT MARRAKESH
"Speaking of thee comforts me, and thinking of thee makes me glad."
--_Râod el Kartas._
The charm of Marrakesh comes slowly to the traveller, but it stays with
him always, and colours his impressions of such other cities as may
attract his wandering footsteps. So soon as he has left the plains behind
on his way to the coast, the town's defects are relegated to the
background of the picture his memory paints. He forgets the dirty lanes
that serve for roads, the heaps of refuse at every corner, the pariah curs
that howled or snapped at his horse's heels when he rode abroad, the
roughness and discomfort of the accommodation, the poverty and disease
that everywhere went hand in hand around him.
But he remembers and always will remember the city in its picturesque
aspects. How can he forget Moorish hospitality, so lavishly exercised in
patios where the hands of architect and gardener meet--those delightful
gatherings of friends whose surroundings are recalled when he sees, even
in the world of the West--
Groups under the dreaming garden trees,
And the full moon, and the white evening star.
He will never forget the Kutubia tower flanking the mosque of the Library,
with its three glittering balls that are solid gold, if you care to
believe the Moors (and who should know better!), though the European
authorities declare they are but gilded copper. He will hear, across all
intervening sea and lands, the sonorous voices of the three blind mueddins
who call True Believers to prayer from the adjacent minarets. By the side
of the tower, that is a landmark almost from R'hamna's far corner to the
Atlas Mountains, Yusuf ibn Tachfin, who built Marrakesh, enjoys his long,
last sleep in a grave unnoticed and unhonoured by the crowds of men from
strange, far-off lands, who pass it every day. Yet, if the conqueror of
Fez and troubler of Spain could rise from nine centuries of rest, he would
find but little change in the city he set on the red plain in the shadow
of the mountains. The walls of his creation remain: even the broken bridge
over the river dates, men say, from his time, and certainly the faith and
works of the people have not altered greatly. Caravans still fetch and
carry from Fez in the north to Timbuctoo and the banks of the Niger, or
reach the Bab-er-rubb with gold and ivory and slaves from the eastern
oases, that France has almost sealed up. The saints' houses are there
still, though the old have yielded to the new. Storks are privileged, as
from earliest times, to build on the flat roofs of the city houses, and,
therefore, are still besought by amorous natives to carry love's greeting
to the women who take their airing on the house-tops in the afternoon.
Berber from the highlands; black man from the Draa; wiry, lean, enduring
trader from Tarudant and other cities of the Sus; patient frugal Saharowi
from the sea of sand,--no one of them has altered greatly since the days
of the renowned Yusuf. And who but he among the men who built great cities
in days before Saxon and Norman had met at Senlac, could look to find his
work so little scarred by time, or disguised by change? Twelve miles of
rampart surround the city still, if we include the walls that guard the
Sultan's maze garden, and seven of the many gates Ibn Tachfin knew are
swung open to the dawn of each day now.
After the Library mosque, with its commanding tower and modest yet
memorable tomb, the traveller remembers the Sultan's palace, white-walled,
green-tiled, vast, imposing; and the lesser mosque of Sidi bel Abbas, to
whom the beggars pray, for it is said of him that he knew God. The city's
hospital stands beside this good man's grave. And here one pays tribute
also to great Mulai Abd el Kader Ijjilalli, yet another saint whose name
is very piously invoked among the poor. The mosque by the Dukala gate is
worthy of note, and earns the salutation of all who come by way of R'hamna
to Marrakesh. The Kaisariyah lingers in the memory, and on hot days in the
plains, when shade is far to seek, one recalls a fine fountain with the
legend "drink and admire," where the water-carriers fill their goat-skins
and all beggars congregate during the hours of fire.
The Mellah, in which the town Jews live, is reached by way of the Olive
Garden. It is the dirtiest part of Marrakesh, and, all things considered,
the least interesting. The lanes that run between its high walls are full
of indescribable filth; comparison with them makes the streets of Madinah
and Kasbah almost clean. One result of the dirt is seen in the prevalence
of a very virulent ophthalmia, from which three out of four of the
Mellah's inhabitants seem to suffer, slightly or seriously. Few adults
appear to take exercise, unless they are called abroad to trade, and when
business is in a bad way the misery is very real indeed. A skilled workman
is pleased to earn the native equivalent of fourteenpence for a day's
labour, beginning at sunrise, and on this miserable pittance he can
support a wife and family. Low wages and poor living, added to centuries
of oppression, have made the Morocco Jew of the towns a pitiable creature;
but on the hills, particularly among the Atlas villages, the People of the
Book are healthy, athletic, and resourceful, able to use hands as well as
head, and the trusted intermediary between Berber hillman and town Moor.
[Illustration: A GATEWAY, MARRAKESH]
Being of the ancient race myself, I was received in several of the
show-houses of the Mellah--places whose splendid interiors were not at all
suggested by the squalid surroundings in which they were set. This is
typical to some extent of all houses in Morocco, even in the coast towns,
and greatly misleads the globe-trotter. There was a fine carving and
colouring in many rooms, but the European furniture was, for the most
part, wrongly used, and at best grotesquely out of place. Hygiene has
not passed within the Mellah's walls, but a certain amount of Western
tawdriness has. Patriarchal Jews of good stature and commanding presence
had their dignity hopelessly spoilt by the big blue spotted handkerchief
worn over the head and tied under the chin; Jewesses in rich apparel
seemed quite content with the fineness within their houses, and
indifferent to the mire of the streets.
I visited three synagogues, one in a private house. The approaches were in
every case disgusting, but the synagogues themselves were well kept, very
old, and decorated with rare and curious memorial lamps, kept alight for
the dead through the year of mourning. The benches were of wood, with
straw mats for cover; there was no place for women, and the seats
themselves seemed to be set down without attempt at arrangement. The
brasswork was old and fine, the scrolls of the Law were very ancient, but
there was no sign of wealth, and little decoration. In the courtyard of
the chief synagogue I found school-work in progress. Half a hundred
intelligent youngsters were repeating the master's words, just as
Mohammedan boys were doing in the Madinah, but even among these little
ones ophthalmia was playing havoc, and doubtless the disease would pass
from the unsound to the sound. Cleanliness would stamp out this trouble in
a very little time, and preserve healthy children from infection.
Unfortunately, the administration of this Mellah is exceedingly bad, and
there is no reason to believe that it will improve.
When the Elevated Court is at Marrakesh the demand for work helps the
Jewish quarter to thrive, but since the Sultan went to Fez the heads of
the Mellah seem to be reluctant to lay out even a few shillings daily to
have the place kept clean. There are no statistics to tell the price that
is paid in human life for this shocking neglect of the elementary
decencies, but it must be a heavy one.
Business premises seem clean enough, though the approach to them could
hardly be less inviting. You enter a big courtyard, and, if wise, remain
on your horse until well clear of the street. The courtyard is wide and
cared for, an enlarged edition of a patio, with big store-rooms on either
side and stabling or a granary. Here also is a bureau, in which the master
sits in receipt of custom, and deals in green tea that has come from India
via England, and white sugar in big loaves, and coffee and other
merchandise. He is buyer and seller at once, now dealing with a native who
wants tea, and now with an Atlas Jew who has an ouadad skin or a rug to
sell; now talking Shilha, the language of the Berbers, now the Moghrebbin
Arabic of the Moors, and again debased Spanish or Hebrew with his own
brethren. He has a watchful eye for all the developments that the day may
bring, and while attending to buyer or seller can take note of all his
servants are doing at the stores, and what is going out or coming in. Your
merchant of the better class has commercial relations with Manchester or
Liverpool; he has visited England and France; perhaps some olive-skinned,
black-eyed boy of his has been sent to an English school to get the wider
views of life and faith, and return to the Mellah to shock his father with
both, and to be shocked in turn by much in the home life that passed
uncriticised before. These things lead to domestic tragedies at times, and
yet neither son nor father is quite to blame.
The best class of Jew in the Mellah has ideas and ideals, but outside the
conduct of his business he lacks initiative. He believes most firmly in
the future of the Jewish race, the ultimate return to Palestine, the
advent of the Messiah. Immersed in these beliefs, he does not see dirt
collecting in the streets and killing little children with the diseases it
engenders. Gradually the grime settles on his faith too, and he loses
sight of everything save commercial ends and the observances that
orthodoxy demands. His, one fears, is a quite hopeless case. The attention
of philanthropy might well turn to the little ones, however. For their
sake some of the material benefits of modern knowledge should be brought
to Jewry in Marrakesh. Schools are excellent, but children cannot live by
school learning alone.
Going from the Mellah one morning I saw a strange sight. By the entrance
to the salted place there is a piece of bare ground stretching to the
wall. Here sundry young Jews in black djellabas sat at their ease, their
long hair curled over their ears, and black caps on their heads in place
of the handkerchiefs favoured by the elders of the community. One or two
women were coming from the Jewish market, their bright dresses and
uncovered faces a pleasing contrast to the white robes and featureless
aspect of the Moorish women. A little Moorish boy, seeing me regard them
with interest, remarked solemnly, "There go those who will never look upon
the face of God's prophet," and then a shareef, whose portion in Paradise
was of course reserved to him by reason of his high descent, rode into the
open ground from the Madinah. I regret to record the fact that the holy
man was drunk, whether upon haschisch or the strong waters of the infidel,
I know not, and to all outward seeming his holiness alone sufficed to keep
him on the back of the spirited horse he bestrode. He went very near to
upsetting a store of fresh vegetables belonging to a True Believer, and
then nearly crushed an old man against the wall. He raised his voice, but
not to pray, and the people round him were in sore perplexity. He was too
holy to remove by force and too drunk to persuade, so the crowd, realising
that he was divinely directed, raised a sudden shout. This served. The
hot-blooded Barb made a rush for the arcade leading to the Madinah and
carried the drunken saint with him, cursing at the top of his voice, but
sticking to his unwieldy saddle in manner that was admirable and truly
Moorish. If he had not been holy he would have been torn from his horse,
and, in native speech, would have "eaten the stick," for drunkenness is a
grave offence in orthodox Morocco.
[Illustration: A COURTYARD, MARRAKESH]
They have a short way with offenders in Moorish cities. I remember
seeing a man brought to the Kasbah of a northern town on a charge of using
false measures. The case was held proven by the khalifa; the culprit was
stripped to the waist, mounted on a lame donkey, and driven through the
streets, while two stalwart soldiers, armed with sticks, beat him until he
dropped to the ground. He was picked up more dead than alive, and thrown
into prison.
There are two sorts of market in Marrakesh--the open market outside the
walls, and the auction market in the Kaisariyah. The latter opens in the
afternoon, by which time every little boxlike shop is tenanted by its
proprietor. How he climbs into his place without upsetting his stores, and
how, arrived there, he can sit for hours without cramp, are questions I
have never been able to answer, though I have watched him scores of times.
He comes late in the day to his shop, lets down one of the covering flaps,
and takes his seat by the step inside it. The other flap has been raised
and is kept up by a stick. Seated comfortably, he looks with dispassionate
eye upon the gathering stream of life before him, and waits contentedly
until it shall please Allah the One to send custom. Sometimes he occupies
his time by reading in the Perspicuous Book; on rare occasions he will
leave his little nest and make dignified way to the shop of an adool or
scribe, who reads pious writings to a select company of devotees. In this
way the morning passes, and in the afternoon the mart becomes crowded,
country Moors riding right up to the entrance chains, and leaving their
mules in the charge of slaves who have accompanied them on foot. Town
buyers and country buyers, with a miscellaneous gathering of tribesmen
from far-off districts, fill the bazaar, and then the merchants hand
certain goods to dilals, as the auctioneers are called. The crowd divides
on either side of the bazaar, leaving a narrow lane down the centre, and
the dilals rush up and down with their wares,--linen, cotton and silk
goods, carpets, skins or brassware, native daggers and pistols, saddles
and saddle-cloths. The goods vary in every bazaar. The dilal announces the
last price offered; a man who wishes to buy must raise it, and, if none
will go better, he secures the bargain. A commission on all goods sold is
taken at the door of the market by the municipal authorities. I notice on
these afternoons the different aspects of the three classes represented in
the bazaar. Shopkeepers and the officials by the gate display no interest
at all in the proceedings: they might be miles from the scene, so far as
their attitude is a clue. The dilals, on the other hand, are in furious
earnest. They run up and down the narrow gangway proclaiming the last
price at the top of their voices, thrusting the goods eagerly into the
hands of possible purchasers, and always remembering the face and position
of the man who made the last bid. They have a small commission on the
price of everything sold, and assuredly they earn their wage. In contrast
with the attitudes of both shopkeepers and auctioneers, the general public
is inclined to regard the bazaar as a place of entertainment. Beggar lads,
whose scanty rags constitute their sole possession, chaff the excited
dilals, keeping carefully out of harm's way the while. Three-fourths of
the people present are there to idle the afternoon hours, with no
intention of making a purchase unless some unexpected bargain crosses
their path. I notice that the dilals secure several of these doubtful
purchasers by dint of fluent and eloquent appeals. When the last article
has been sold and the crowd is dispersing, merchants arise, praise Allah,
who in his wisdom sends good days and bad, step out of their shop, let
down one flap and raise the other, lock the two with a huge key and retire
to their homes.
I remember asking a Moor to explain why the Jews were so ill-treated and
despised all over Morocco. The worthy man explained that the Koran
declares that no True Believer might take Jew or Christian to be his
friend, that the Veracious Book also assures the Faithful that Jews will
be turned to pigs or monkeys for their unbelief, and that the
metamorphosis will be painful. "Moreover," said the True Believer, who did
not know that I was of the despised race, "do you not know that one of
these cursed people tried to seize the throne in the time of the great
Tafilatta?"
I pleaded ignorance.
"Do you not know the Feast of Scribes, that is held in Marrakesh and Fez?"
he asked.
Again I had to make confession that, though I had heard about the Feast, I
had never witnessed it.
"Only Allah is omniscient," he said by way of consolation. "Doubtless
there are some small matters known to Nazarenes and withheld from
us--strange though that may seem to the thoughtful.
"In the name of the Most Merciful--know that there was a ruler in Taza
before Mulai Ismail--Prince of the Faithful, he who overcame in the name
of God--reigned in the land. Now this ruler[24] had a Jew for wazeer. When
it pleased Allah to take the Sultan and set him in the pavilion of Mother
of Pearl appointed for him in Paradise, in the shadow of the Tuba tree,
this Jew hid his death from the people until he could seize the throne of
Taza for himself and ride out under the M'dhal.[25] Then Mulai Ismail
protested to the people, and the Tolba (scribes) arranged to remove the
reproach from the land. So they collected forty of their bravest men and
packed them in boxes--one man in a box. They put two boxes on a mule and
drove the twenty mules to the courtyard of the palace that the Jew had
taken for himself. The man in charge of the mules declared he had a
present for the Sultan, and the Unbeliever, whose grave was to be the
meeting-place of all the dogs of Taza, gave orders that the boxes should
be brought in and set before him. This was done, and the cursed Jew
prepared to gloat over rich treasure. But as each box was opened a talib
rose suddenly, a naked sword in his hand, and falling bravely upon the
unbelieving one, cut his body to pieces, while Shaitan hurried his soul to
the furnace that is seven times heated and shall never cool.
[Illustration: WELL IN MARRAKESH]
"Then the Father of the Faithful, the Ever Victorious," continued the True
Believer, "decreed that the tolba should have a festival. And every year
they meet in Marrakesh and Fez, and choose a talib who is to rule over
them. The post is put up to auction; he who bids highest is Sultan for a
week. He rides abroad on a fine horse or mule, under a M'dhal, as though
he were indeed My Lord Abd-el-Aziz himself. Black slaves on either side
brush away the flies with their white clothes, soldiers await to do his
bidding, he is permitted to make a request to the true Sultan, and our
Master has open ear and full hand for the tolba, who kept the Moghreb from
the Unbelievers, the inheritors of the Fire, against whom Sidna Mohammed
has turned his face."
I arrived in Marrakesh just too late to witness the reign of the talib,
but I heard that the successful candidate had paid thirty-two dollars for
the post--a trifle less than five pounds in our money, at the rate of
exchange then current. This money had been divided among the tolba. The
governor of Marrakesh had given the lucky king one hundred dollars in
cash, thirty sheep, twenty-five cones of sugar, forty jars of butter, and
several sacks of flour. This procedure is peculiar to the Southern
capital. In Fez the tolba kings collect taxes in person from every
householder.
The talib's petition to the Sultan had been framed on a very liberal
scale. He asked for a home in Saffi, exemption from taxes, and a place in
the custom-house. The Sultan had not responded to the petition when I left
the city; he was closely beleaguered in Fez, and Bu Hamara was occupying
Taza, the ancient city where the deed of the tolba had first instituted
the quaint custom. My informant said there was little doubt but that his
Shareefian majesty would grant all the requests, so the talib's investment
of thirty-two dollars must be deemed highly profitable. At the same time I
cannot find the story I was told confirmed by Moorish historians. No
record to which I have had access tells of a Jewish king of Taza, though
there was a Hebrew in high favour there in the time of Rasheed II. The
details of the story told me are, as the American scribe said, probably
attributable to Mr. Benjamin Trovato.
When the attractions of Kaisariyah palled, the markets beyond the walls
never failed to revive interest in the city's life. The Thursday market
outside the Bab al Khamees brought together a very wonderful crowd of men
and goods. All the city's trade in horses, camels, and cattle was done
here. The caravan traders bought or hired their camels, and there were
fine animals for sale with one fore and one hind leg hobbled, to keep them
from straying. The camels were always the most interesting beasts on view.
For the most part their attendants were Saharowi, who could control them
seemingly by voice or movement of the hand; but a camel needs no little
care, particularly at feeding time, when he is apt to turn spiteful if
precedence be given to an animal he does not like. They are marvellously
touchy and fastidious creatures--quite childlike in many of their
peculiarities.
[Illustration: A BAZAAR, MARRAKESH]
The desert caravan trade is not what it was since the French occupied
Timbuctoo and closed the oases of Tuat; but I saw some caravans arrive
from the interior--one of them from the sandy region where Mons. Lebaudy
has set up his kingdom. How happy men and beasts seemed to be. I never saw
camels looking so contented: the customary sneer had passed from their
faces--or accumulated dust had blotted it out. On the day when the market
is held in the open place beyond the Bab al Khamees, there is another big
gathering within the city walls by the Jamáa Effina. Here acrobats and
snake-charmers and story-tellers ply their trade, and never fail to find
an audience. The acrobats come from Tarudant and another large city of the
Sus that is not marked in the British War Office Map of Morocco dated
1889! Occasionally one of these clever tumblers finds his way to London,
and is seen at the music halls there.
I remember calling on one Hadj Abdullah when I was in the North, and to my
surprise he told me he spoke English, French, German, Spanish, Turkish,
Moghrebbin Arabic, and Shilha. "I know London well," he said; "I have an
engagement to bring my troupe of acrobats to the _Canterbury_ and the
_Oxford_. I am a member of a Masonic Lodge in Camberwell." Commonplace
enough all this, but when you have ridden out of town to a little Moorish
house on the hillside overlooking the Mediterranean, and are drinking
green tea flavoured with mint, on a diwan that must be used with crossed
legs, you hardly expect the discussion to be turned to London music-halls.
Snake-charmers make a strong appeal to the untutored Moorish crowd. Black
cobras and spotted leffa snakes from the Sus are used for the performance.
When the charmer allows the snakes to dart at him or even to bite, the
onlookers put their hands to their foreheads and praise Sidi ben Aissa, a
saint who lived in Mequinez when Mulai Ismail ruled, a pious magician
whose power stands even to-day between snake-charmers and sudden death.
The musician who accompanies the chief performer, and collects the _floos_
offered by spectators, works his companion into a condition of frenzy
until he does not seem to feel the teeth of the snakes; but as people who
should be well informed declare that the poison bags are always removed
before the snakes are used for exhibition, it is hard for the mere
Unbeliever to render to Sidi ben Aissa the exact amount of credit that may
be due to him.
[Illustration: A BRICKFIELD, MARRAKESH]
The story-teller, whose legends are to be found in the "Thousand Nights
and a Night," is generally a merry rogue with ready wit. His tales are
told with a wealth of detail that would place them upon the index
expurgatorius of the Western world, but men, women, and children crowd
round to hear them, and if his tale lacks the ingredients most desired
they do not hesitate to tell him so, whereupon he will respond at once to
his critics, and add love or war in accordance with their instructions.
One has heard of something like this in the serial market at home. His
reward is scanty, like that of his fellow-workers, the acrobat and the
snake charmer, but he has quite a professional manner, and stops at the
most exciting points in his narrative for his companion to make a tour of
the circle to collect fees. The quality of the adventures he retails is
settled always by the price paid for them.
It is a strange sight, and unpleasant to the European, who believes that
his morality, like his faith, is the only genuine article, to see young
girls with antimony on their eyelids and henna on their nails, listening
to stories that only the late Sir Richard Burton dared to render literally
into the English tongue. While these children are young and impressionable
they are allowed to run wild, but from the day when they become
self-conscious they are strictly secluded.
Throughout Marrakesh one notes a spirit of industry. If a man has work, he
seems to be happy and well content. Most traders are very courteous and
gentle in their dealings, and many have a sense of humour that cannot fail
to please. While in the city I ordered one or two lamps from a workman who
had a little shop in the Madinah. He asked for three days, and on the
evening of the third day I went to fetch them, in company with Salam. The
workman, who had made them himself, drew the lamps one by one from a dark
corner, and Salam, who has a hawk's eye, noticed that the glass of one was
slightly cracked.
"Have a care, O Father of Lamps," he said; "the Englishman will not take a
cracked glass."
"What is this," cried the Lamps' Father in great anger, "who sells cracked
lamps? If there is a flaw in one of mine, ask me for two dollars."
Salam held the lamp with cracked glass up against the light. "Two
dollars," he said briefly. The tradesman's face fell. He put his tongue
out and smote it with his open hand.
"Ah," he said mournfully, when he had admonished the unruly member, "who
can set a curb upon the tongue?"[26]
FOOTNOTES:
[24] Mulai Rashed II.
[25] The royal umbrella.
[26] Cf. James iii. 8. But for a mere matter of dates, one would imagine
that Luther detected the taint of Islam in James when he rejected his
Epistle.
THE SLAVE MARKET AT MARRAKESH
[Illustration: A MOSQUE, MARRAKESH]