The Mahasni—Sin Samani—The Bazaar—Moorish Saints—See the Ayana!—The
Prickly Fig—Jewish Graves—The Place of Carcases—The Stable Boy—Horses of
the Moslem—Dar-dwag.
I was standing in the market-place, a spectator of much the same scene as
I have already described, when a Moor came up to me and attempted to
utter a few words in Spanish. He was a tall elderly man, with sharp but
rather whimsical features, and might have been called good looking, had
he not been one-eyed, a very common deformity in this country. {359} His
body was swathed in an immense _haik_. Finding that I could understand
Moorish, he instantly began talking with immense volubility, and I soon
learnt that he was a _mahasni_. He expatiated diffusely on the beauties
of Tangier, of which he said he was a native, and at last exclaimed,
“Come, my sultan, come, my lord, and I will show you many things which
will gladden your eyes, and fill your heart with sunshine; it were a
shame in me, who have the advantage of being a son of Tangier, to permit
a stranger, who comes from an island in the great sea, as you tell me you
do, for the purpose of seeing this blessed land, to stand here in the
_soc_ with no one to guide him. By Allah, it shall not be so. Make room
for my sultan, make room for my lord,” he continued, pushing his way
through a crowd of men and children who had gathered round us; “it is his
highness’ pleasure to go with me. This way, my lord, this way;” and he
led the way up the hill, walking at a tremendous rate, and talking still
faster. “This street,” said he, “is the Siarrin, and its like is not to
be found in Tangier; observe how broad it is, even half the breadth of
the _soc_ itself; here are the shops of the most considerable merchants,
where are sold precious articles of all kinds. Observe those two men,
they are Algerines and good Moslems; they fled from Zair {360} when the
Nazarenes conquered it, not by force of fighting, not by valour, as you
may well suppose, but by gold; the Nazarenes only conquer by gold. The
Moor is good, the Moor is strong, who so good and strong? but he fights
not with gold, and therefore he lost Zair.
“Observe you those men seated on the benches by those portals; they are
_mokhasniah_, they are my brethren. See their _haiks_ how white, see
their turbans how white. Oh that you could see their swords in the day
of war, for bright, bright are their swords! Now they bear no swords.
Wherefore should they? is there not peace in the land? See you him in
the shop opposite? That is the Pasha of Tangier, that is the Hamed Sin
Samani, the under Pasha of Tangier; the elder Pasha, my lord, is away on
a journey; may Allah send him a safe return. Yes, that is Hamed; he sits
in his _hanutz_ as were he nought more than a merchant, yet life and
death are in his hands. There he dispenses justice, even as he dispenses
the essence of the rose and cochineal, and powder of cannon and sulphur;
and these two last he sells on the account of Abderrahman, my lord and
sultan, for none can sell powder and the sulphur dust in his land but the
sultan. Should you wish to purchase _attar del nuar_, {361} should you
wish to purchase the essence of the rose, you must go to the _hanutz_ of
Sin Samani, for there only you will get it pure: you must receive it from
no common Moor, but only from Hamed. May Allah bless Hamed. The
_makhasniah_, my brethren, wait to do his orders, for wherever sits the
Pasha, there is a hall of judgment. See, now we are opposite the bazaar;
beneath yon gate is the court of the bazaar; what will you not find in
that bazaar? Silks from Fez you will find there: and if you wish for
_sibat_, if you wish for slippers for your feet, you must seek them
there, and there also are sold curious things from the towns of the
Nazarenes. Those large houses on our left are habitations of Nazarene
consuls; you have seen many such in your own land, therefore why should
you stay to look at them? Do you not admire this street of the Siarrin?
Whatever enters or goes out of Tangier by the land passes through this
street. Oh, the riches that pass through this street! Behold those
camels, what a long train; twenty, thirty, a whole _cafila_ descending
the street. _Wullah_! I know those camels, I know the driver. Good
day, O Sidi Hassim, in how many days from Fez? And now we are arrived at
the wall, and we must pass under this gate. This gate is called Bab del
Faz; we are now in the Soc de Barra.”
The Soc de Barra is an open place beyond the upper wall of Tangier, on
the side of the hill. The ground is irregular and steep; there are,
however, some tolerably level spots. In this place, every Thursday {362}
and Sunday morning, a species of mart is held, on which account it is
called Soc de Barra, or the outward market-place. Here and there, near
the town ditch, are subterranean pits, with small orifices, about the
circumference of a chimney, which are generally covered with a large
stone, or stuffed with straw. These pits are granaries, in which wheat,
barley, and other species of grain intended for sale are stored. On one
side are two or three rude huts, or rather sheds, beneath which keep
watch the guardians of the corn. It is very dangerous to pass over this
hill at night, after the town gates are closed, as at that time numerous
large and ferocious dogs are let loose, who would to a certainty pull
down, and perhaps destroy, any stranger who should draw nigh. Halfway up
the hill are seen four white walls, inclosing a spot about ten feet
square, where rest the bones of Sidi Mokhfidh, a saint of celebrity, who
died some fifteen years ago. Here terminates the _soc_; the remainder of
the hill is called El Kawar, or the place of graves, being the common
burying-ground of Tangier; the resting-places of the dead are severally
distinguished by a few stones arranged so as to form an oblong circle.
Near Mokhfidh sleeps Sidi Gali; but the principal saint of Tangier lies
interred on the top of the hill, in the centre of a small plain. A
beautiful chapel or mosque, with vaulted roof, is erected there in his
honour, which is in general adorned with banners of various dyes. The
name of this saint is Mohammed _el Haji_, and his memory is held in the
utmost veneration in Tangier and its vicinity. His death occurred at the
commencement of the present century.
These details I either gathered at the time or on subsequent occasions.
On the north side of the _soc_, close by the town, is a wall with a gate.
“Come,” said the old _mahasni_, giving a flourish with his hand; “come,
and I will show you the garden of a Nazarene consul.” I followed him
through the gate, and found myself in a spacious garden laid out in the
European taste, and planted with lemon and pear trees, and various kinds
of aromatic shrubs. It was, however, evident that the owner chiefly
prided himself on his flowers, of which there were numerous beds. There
was a handsome summer-house, and art seemed to have exhausted itself in
making the place complete.
One thing was wanting, and its absence was strangely remarkable in a
garden at this time of the year; scarcely a leaf was to be seen. The
direst of all the plagues which devastated Egypt was now busy in this
part of Africa—the locust was at work, and in no place more fiercely than
in the particular spot where I was now standing. All around looked
blasted. The trees were brown and bald as in winter. Nothing green save
the fruits, especially the grapes, huge clusters of which were depending
from the _parras_; for the locust touches not the fruit whilst a single
leaf remains to be devoured. As we passed along the walks, these
horrible insects flew against us in every direction, and perished by
hundreds beneath our feet. “See the _ayanas_,” said the old _mahasni_,
“and hear them eating. Powerful is the _ayana_, more powerful than the
sultan or the consul. Should the sultan send all his _makhasniah_
against the _ayana_, should he send me with them, the _ayana_ would say,
‘Ha! ha!’ Powerful is the _ayana_! He fears not the consul. A few
weeks ago the consul said, ‘I am stronger than the _ayana_, and I will
extirpate him from the land.’ So he shouted through the city, ‘O
Tangerines! speed forth to fight the _ayana_,—destroy him in the egg; for
know that whosoever shall bring me one pound weight of the eggs of the
_ayana_, unto him will I give five _reals_ of Spain; there shall be no
_ayanas_ this year.’ So all Tangier rushed forth to fight the _ayana_,
and to collect the eggs which the _ayana_ had laid to hatch beneath the
sand on the sides of the hills, and in the roads, and in the plains. And
my own child, who is seven years old, went forth to fight the _ayana_,
and he alone collected eggs to the weight of five pounds, eggs which the
_ayana_ had placed beneath the sand, and he carried them to the consul,
and the consul paid the price. And hundreds carried eggs to the consul,
more or less, and the consul paid them the price, and in less than three
days the treasure chest of the consul was exhausted. And then he cried,
‘Desist, O Tangerines! perhaps we have destroyed the _ayana_, perhaps we
have destroyed them all!’ Ha! ha! Look around you, and beneath you, and
above you, and tell me whether the consul has destroyed the _ayana_. Oh,
powerful is the _ayana_! More powerful than the consul, more powerful
than the sultan and all his armies.” {364}
It will be as well to observe here, that within a week from this time all
the locusts had disappeared, no one knew how—only a few stragglers
remained. But for this providential deliverance, the fields and gardens
in the vicinity of Tangier would have been totally devastated. These
insects were of an immense size, and of a loathly appearance.
We now passed over the _soc_ to the opposite side, where stand the huts
of the guardians. Here a species of lane presents itself, which descends
to the seashore; it is deep and precipitous, and resembles a gully or
ravine. The banks on either side are covered with the tree which bears
the prickly fig, called in Moorish, _Kermous del Inde_. {365} There is
something wild and grotesque in the appearance of this tree or plant, for
I know not which to call it. Its stem, though frequently of the
thickness of a man’s body, has no head, but divides itself, at a short
distance from the ground, into many crooked branches, which shoot in all
directions, and bear green and uncouth leaves, about half an inch in
thickness, and which, if they resemble anything, present the appearance
of the fore fins of a seal, and consist of multitudinous fibres. The
fruit, which somewhat resembles a pear, has a rough tegument covered with
minute prickles, which instantly enter the hand which touches them,
however slightly, and are very difficult to extract. I never remember to
have seen vegetation in ranker luxuriance than that which these fig-trees
exhibited, nor upon the whole a more singular spot. “Follow me,” said
the _mahasni_, “and I will show you something which you will like to
see.” So he turned to the left, leading the way by a narrow path up the
steep bank, till we reached the summit of a hillock, separated by a deep
ditch from the wall of Tangier. The ground was thickly covered with the
trees already described, which spread their strange arms along the
surface, and whose thick leaves crushed beneath our feet as we walked
along. Amongst them I observed a large number of stone slabs lying
horizontally; they were rudely scrawled over with odd characters, which
stooped down to inspect. “Are you _talib_ enough read those signs?”
exclaimed the old Moor. “They are letters of the accursed Jews; this is
their _mearrah_, as they call it, and here they inter their dead. Fools,
they trust in Muza, when they might believe in Mohammed, and therefore
their dead shall burn everlastingly in _Jehinnim_. See, my sultan, how
fat is the soil of this _mearrah_ of the Jews; see what _kermous_ grow
here. When I was a boy I often came to the _mearrah_ of the Jews to eat
_kermous_ in the season of their ripeness. The Moslem boys of Tangier
love the _kermous_ of the _mearrah_ of the Jews; but the Jews will not
gather them. They say that the waters of the springs which nourish the
roots of these trees pass among the bodies of their dead, and for that
reason it is an abomination to taste of these fruits. Be this true, or
be it not, one thing is certain, in whatever manner nourished, good are
the _kermous_ which grow in the _mearrah_ of the Jews.”
We returned to the lane by the same path by which we had come: as we were
descending it he said, “Know, my sultan, that the name of the place where
we now are, and which you say you like much, is Dar-sinah. {367a} You
will ask me why it bears that name, as you see neither house nor man,
neither Moslem, Nazarene, nor Jew, only our two selves; I will tell you,
my sultan, for who can tell you better than myself? Learn, I pray you,
that Tangier was not always what it is now, nor did it occupy always the
place which it does now. It stood yonder (pointing to the east) on those
hills above the shore, and ruins of houses are still to be seen there,
and the spot is called Old Tangier. So in the old time, as I have heard
say, this Dar-sinah was a street, whether without or within the wall
matters not, and there resided men of all trades; smiths of gold, and
silver, and iron, and tin, and artificers of all kinds. You had only to
go to the Dar-sinah if you wished for any thing wrought, and there
instantly you would find a master of the particular craft. My sultan
tells me he likes the look of Dar-sinah at the present day; truly I know
not why, especially as the _kermous_ are not yet in their ripeness, nor
fit to eat. If he likes Dar-sinah now, how would my sultan have liked it
in the old time, when it was filled with gold and silver, and iron and
tin, and was noisy with the hammers, and the masters and the cunning men?
We are now arrived at the _Chali del Bahar_. {367b} Take care, my
sultan, we tread upon bones.”
We had emerged from the Dar-sinah, and the seashore was before us; on a
sudden we found ourselves amongst a multitude of bones of all kinds of
animals, and seemingly of all dates; some being blanched with time and
exposure to sun and wind, whilst to others the flesh still partly clung;
whole carcases were here, horses, asses, and even the uncouth remains of
a camel. Gaunt dogs were busy here, growling, tearing, and gnawing;
amongst whom, unintimidated, stalked the carrion vulture, fiercely
battening and even disputing with the brutes the garbage; whilst the crow
hovered overhead, and croaked wistfully, or occasionally perched upon
some upturned rib bone. “See,” said the _mahasni_, “the _kawar_ of the
animals. My sultan has seen the _kawar_ of the Moslems and the _mearrah_
of the Jews; and he sees here the _kawar_ of the animals. All the
animals which die in Tangier by the hand of God—horse, dog, or camel—are
brought to this spot, and here they putrefy or are devoured by the birds
of the heaven or the wild creatures that prowl on the _chali_. Come, my
sultan, it is not good to remain long in this place.”
We were preparing to leave the spot, when we heard a galloping down the
Dar-sinah, and presently a horse and rider darted at full speed from the
mouth of the lane and appeared upon the strand: the horseman, when he saw
us, pulled up his steed with much difficulty, and joined us. The horse
was small but beautiful, a sorrel with long mane and tail; had he been
hoodwinked he might perhaps have been mistaken for a Cordovese _jaca_; he
was broad-chested, and rotund in his hind quarters, and possessed much of
the plumpness and sleekness which distinguish that breed, but looking in
his eyes you would have been undeceived in a moment; a wild savage fire
darted from the restless orbs, and so far from exhibiting the docility of
the other noble and loyal animal, he occasionally plunged desperately,
and could scarcely be restrained by a strong curb and powerful arm from
resuming his former head-long course. The rider was a youth, apparently
about eighteen, dressed as a European, with a _montero_ cap on his head:
he was athletically built, but with lengthy limbs, his feet, for he rode
without stirrups or saddle, reaching almost to the ground; his complexion
was almost as dark as that of a Mulatto; his features very handsome, the
eyes particularly so, but filled with an expression which was bold and
bad; and there was a disgusting look of sensuality about the mouth. He
addressed a few words to the _mahasni_, with whom he seemed to be well
acquainted, inquiring who I was. The old man answered, “O Jew, my sultan
understands our speech, thou hadst better address thyself to him.” The
lad then spoke to me in Arabic, but almost instantly dropping that
language, proceeded to discourse in tolerable French. “I suppose you are
French,” said he with much familiarity; “shall you stay long in Tangier?”
Having received an answer, he proceeded, “as you are an Englishman, you
are doubtless fond of horses; know, therefore, whenever you are disposed
for a ride, I will accompany you, and procure you horses. My name is
Ephraim Fragey: I am stable-boy to the Neapolitan consul, who prizes
himself upon possessing the best horses in Tangier; you shall mount any
you please. Would you like to try this little _aoud_?” I thanked him,
but declined his offer for the present, asking him at the same time how
he had acquired the French language, and why he, a Jew, did not appear in
the dress of his brethren? “I am in the service of a consul,” said he,
“and my master obtained permission that I might dress myself in this
manner; and as to speaking French, I have been to Marseilles and Naples,
to which last place I conveyed horses, presents from the sultan. Besides
French, I can speak Italian.” He then dismounted, and holding the horse
firmly by the bridle with one hand, proceeded to undress himself, which
having accomplished, he mounted the animal and rode into the water. The
skin of his body was much akin in colour to that of a frog or toad, but
the frame was that of a young Titan. The horse took to the water with
great unwillingness, and at a small distance from the shore commenced
struggling with his rider, whom he twice dashed from his back; the lad,
however, clung to the bridle, and detained the animal. All his efforts,
however, being unavailing to ride him deeper in, he fell to washing him
strenuously with his hands, then leading him out, he dressed himself and
returned by the way he came.
“Good are the horses of the Moslems,” said my old friend; “where will you
find such? They will descend rocky mountains at full speed and neither
trip nor fall; but you must be cautious with the horses of the Moslems,
and treat them with kindness, for the horses of the Moslems are proud,
and they like not being slaves. When they are young and first mounted,
jerk not their mouths with your bit, for be sure if you do they will kill
you; sooner or later, you will perish beneath their feet. Good are our
horses, and good our riders, yea, very good are the Moslems at mounting
the horse; who are like them? I once saw a Frank rider compete with a
Moslem on this beach, and at first the Frank rider had it all his own
way, and he passed the Moslem, but the course was long, very long, and
the horse of the Frank rider, which was a Frank also, panted; but the
horse of the Moslem panted not, for he was a Moslem also, and the Moslem
rider at last gave a cry and the horse sprang forward and he overtook the
Frank horse, and then the Moslem rider stood up in his saddle. How did
he stand? Truly he stood on his head, and these eyes saw him; he stood
on his head in the saddle as he passed the Frank rider; and he cried ha!
ha! as he passed the Frank rider; and the Moslem horse cried ha! ha! as
he passed the Frank breed, and the Frank lost by a far distance. Good
are the Franks; good their horses; but better are the Moslems, and better
are the horses of the Moslems.”
We now directed our steps towards the town, but not by the path we came:
turning to the left under the hill of the _mearrah_, and along the
strand, we soon came to a rudely-paved way with a steep ascent, which
wound beneath the wall of the town to a gate, before which, on one side,
were various little pits like graves, filled with water or lime. “This
is Dar-dwag,” said the _mahasni_; “this is the house of the bark, and to
this house are brought the hides; all those which are prepared for use in
Tangier are brought to this house, and here they are cured with lime, and
bran, and bark, and herbs. And in this Dar-dwag there are one hundred
and forty pits; I have counted them myself; and there were more which
have now ceased to be, for the place is very ancient. And these pits are
hired not by one, nor by two, but by many people, and whosoever list can
rent one of these pits and cure the hides which he may need; but the
owner of all is one man, and his name is Cado Ableque. And now my sultan
has seen the house of the bark, and I will show him nothing more this
day; for to-day is _Youm al Jumal_, {372} and the gates will be presently
shut whilst the Moslems perform their devotions. So I will accompany my
sultan to the guest house, and there I will leave him for the present.”
We accordingly passed through a gate, and ascending a street found
ourselves before the mosque where I had stood in the morning; in another
minute or two we were at the door of Joanna Correa. I now offered my
kind guide a piece of silver as a remuneration for his trouble, whereupon
he drew himself up and said—
“The silver of my sultan I will not take, for I consider that I have done
nothing to deserve it. We have not yet visited all the wonderful things
of this blessed town. On a future day I will conduct my sultan to the
castle of the governor, and to other places which my sultan will be glad
to see; and when we have seen all we can, and my sultan is content with
me, if at any time he see me in the _soc_ of a morning, with my basket in
my hand, and he see nothing in that basket, then is my sultan at liberty
as a friend to put grapes in my basket, or bread in my basket, or fish or
meat in my basket. That will I not refuse of my sultan, when I shall
have done more for him than I have now. But the silver of my sultan will
I not take now nor at any time.” He then waved his hand gently, and
departed.