Arab Mesmerism. — Divination. — Sheikh Senusi. — Morocco
Miracles. — A Treasure-seeker’s Tales. — Yusuf’s
Ingenuity. — Further exemplified. — My Captivity ended. —
The Tables turned.
One of my first visitors was the Moghrabi from Tangiers, already
mentioned, called El Gibely, who has been settled here for many
years. He was a perfect specimen of this class of adventurers;
pretending to have a familiar spirit, a djin who waits upon him,
and tells him the secrets of futurity. He wrote charms to discover
treasures, and to cure all manner of diseases, and I almost think
had ended by believing in them himself. The day after I was shut
up in Yusuf’s house he took an opportunity of vaunting to me
highly the virtues of his amulets, particularly of one which
renders its possessor ball-proof. He fancied, probably, that this
was the moment to effect a profitable sale, and I asked questions,
and listened to him with a grave attention which must have given
him great hopes. In this he overrated my credulity; but I repaid
his communicativeness in kind, by describing to him the wonders of
the electric telegraph, which I thought would astonish him; but in
this I was in turn disappointed, as he listened to my accounts of
instantaneous messages sent over land and sea, without expressing
a doubt, or even asking how such wonders were performed. In fact,
he already knew all about it—“It was the djin.”
I one day sent for him to perform the often-talked-of miracle,
or trick of the ink-spot in a child’s hand. A young negro, about
nine years old, was introduced, and the inscription on his forehead
was written with all due ceremony, the seal was drawn in his hand,
the coriander seed was burned under his nose, until the poor
child’s eyes ran with tears, and the fear he was in covered his
forehead with big drops of sweat. After some time he saw a person
in the ink-spot; he was then told to order him to bring another,
whom he was not long in fancying he saw; but he then became quite
wild, and neither the muttered surah, nor the repeated orders of
the Moghrabi had any further effect. The child could see nothing
more. I regarded the experiment with the most incredulous caution;
and, though it certainly failed, I was not convinced that so-called
animal magnetism would not give an explanation of the phenomena,
such as trustworthy Arabs have assured me they had themselves
seen. Leo Africanus speaks of these conjurors with the utmost
contempt; and, I believe, all later Europeans who have written
on the subject regard the proceeding as a gross trick; but in
these countries it is universally believed, even by men who laugh
at the usual apparatus of charms and amulets. One of my friends
brought me a manuscript, which he had found among the effects of a
moghrabi who died here many years ago, in which the whole process is
explained; it was essentially the same as that used by El Gibely,
who, probably to enhance the mystery of the proceeding in my eyes,
added, besides the two lines which are written on the forehead,
a sort of star over the nose, and inscriptions on each eyebrow.[9]
Having spoken at such length of the art of making “the Djin descend
into a child’s hand,” I may complete my confession of the black
arts which I learned here, by describing the process of divination
called “Derb er raml,” or “Derb el ful,” according to the
medium used, whether it is sand or beans; the latter (with the beans)
is the simplest, but both are in principle the same. Seven beans are
held in the palm of the left hand, which is struck with a smart blow
with the right half-closed fist, so that some of the beans jump into
the right hand—if an odd number, one is marked; if even, two. The
beans are replaced in the left hand, which is again struck with the
right, and the result marked below the first. This being repeated
four times gives the first figure, and the operation is performed
until there are obtained four figures, which are placed side by side
in a square; these are then read vertically and perpendicularly,
and also from corner to corner, thus giving in all ten figures. As
each may contain four odd or four even numbers, they are capable of
sixteen permutations, each of which has a separate signification,
and a proper _house_ or part of the square in which it should
appear. The Derb er-raml is only distinguished from this by being
more complicated, fresh combinations being obtained by the addition
of every pair of figures. There is a large work on this subject by
El-Zenāty, and another called ’Omdat-et-Taleb.
One day the Gibely came to me in all his Friday gaiety of attire,
“perfumed like a milliner,” his eyes broadly painted with
kohl. We had a long discussion on the earth and its form, and the
great sea which surrounds it, and jebel kaf which bounds it, and the
seven climates, and the seven heavens, for whose existence he quoted
the words of Him whose name be exalted! in the Koran. I demurred to
some of his theories, and treated jebel kaf and the seven climates
as at least old-fashioned—with the heavens, may they never be
fewer! I did not interfere; but even with the aid of such maps as
I had at hand, I could not, of course, hope to make my very modern
notion of the world’s form perfectly intelligible. From this we
passed, by an easy transition (arising, I think, from his assertion
that Mecca is the centre of the world), to the subject of natural and
supernatural knowledge, and thence to miracles. Reason being as much
opposed to the mysteries of faith as to a belief in occurrences out
of the usual course of nature, it is difficult to prescribe a term to
the one without seeming to doubt the other; and I therefore, without
entering into explanations, was content to say, “It seems strange,
but God only knows.” He himself pretended to be able to travel
from here to Benghazi and Derna, in summer, through the parched
desert, alone, without water or wallet, and to want for nothing—an
assertion he has often made to me, as of a thing notorious to all
in Siwah, ascribing the gift at one time to his attendant djin,
at another to the Sheikh Senusi. To-day, I suppose because it was
Friday, the living saint had the credit of the prodigy. The Senusi,
of whom I have had so often occasion to speak, is the founder of
the largest religious brotherhood at present existing in Africa,
its ramifications extending from Morocco to the Hedjay. He is a
native of Mostaghānem, was educated in Fez, and now resides in
Mecca, where he has beside his house a large zavia. He is about
sixty-five years old, and from the immense influence which he has
acquired it may fairly be supposed that he is a man of no ordinary
talents. He is a sherif of good family, and the donations of pious
pilgrims have rendered his zavias (convents) very wealthy. The
members of these convents, after having completed their studies,
are allowed to marry, and without practising any great austerities
they are very strict Moslemin. In imitation of the Prophet they say
fifty rika’ats in the twenty-four hours, five of which are said
at midnight; they fast, in addition to Ramazan, on certain days in
the months of Sha’aban, Hedjib, and Zil Hidjih, and abstain from
smoking and drinking coffee, tea being their usual beverage. They
seem less fanatical than the general mass of Arabs; although their
founder is a native of Algiers, he professes, though perhaps only
from policy, a particular esteem for the English, and I believe
I had, very unworthily, the benefit of this partiality. From one
of the disciples of the sheikh I learned a point in our national
history which was new to me. When the Prophet died, the English
were on the point of becoming true believers, but, learning his
death, they determined to remain as they were; they made, however,
a treaty with Abou Behr, by which it was agreed, that though they
continued Christians, there should be perpetual amity between them
and the Caliph.
The Senusi is represented to me as all that an Arab saint should
be—exact in the observances of religion, gay, and a capital shot;
he rides a horse of the purest breed and of great value, dresses
magnificently, paints his eyes with kohl and his beard with henna. He
is very hospitable, and if the Gibely may be believed, has a granary
which the large daily drafts he makes on it never empty; receiving
nothing from any one, he has always money; and a hundred, or even two
hundred, persons eat from his dish of cuscusu, which miraculously
suffices for them all. The Senusi seems a man respectable for his
talents and probity, though from the above history of him it may be
supposed that he takes advantage of the veneration of his disciples
to impose on their credulity. In the eyes of my Moghrabi friend,
however, he is not the only living thaumaturge in Islam; for there
are, he asserts, many individuals in Morocco, some of whom he knows
personally, who pray every day at Mecca, and he told of one who,
no saint himself, owed this favour to the sheikh he served. The
event happened in Tunis. The servant wished to go on the pilgrimage,
but from day to day his master dissuaded him, saying, “There is
time, wait yet a little.” Thus passed the months; the festival
was approaching, and still the sheikh answered, “You shall make
this year’s pilgrimage, but there is still time.” At length the
ninth of Til Hidj came, the very day of the sermon on Mount Arafat,
when, about mid-day, the sheikh called him, and said, “Shut your
eyes,” and “now open them.” He obeyed, and found himself with
a multitude of people at Mount Arafat. He performed with them the
ceremonies of the pilgrimage, joining in the processional prayers,
and after this spoke to many of his Tunisian acquaintance. He said
he should return before them, and offered to carry letters, many
of which, sealed with their seals, and referring to their children
and family affairs, were given to him. His master, who was with him
all this time, then said, “Shut your eyes,” and in an instant
he found himself again in Tunis, with his letters. He delivered
them the next day; but, notwithstanding the evidence of the seals
and the contents, the people, seeing the date, said, “He is an
impostor.” “Wait,” was the answer, “till the return of the
Hadj.” Meantime, at Arafat, his countrymen looked for him, and
not seeing him, said among themselves, “He is gone back before
us to Mecca;” but when after months they returned home, and
each recognising his own letter asserted that he had sent it from
Arafat, and had seen the bearer there, the people were convinced
of the miracle.
Miracles performed by mad saints are not less firmly believed by
my friend. There is such an one at Damanhur, and I had myself the
pleasure of seeing him when there, who, clothed in the costume of
Sultan Adam when he left the hands of his Creator, is building
a mosque at Tunis. He goes every day to the Nile, and throws
stones into it, which are at the same moment conveyed to Tunis,
and arrange themselves in proper architectural design. He told of
another at Tripoli, whose aid the crew of a ship at sea invoked
in a storm, promising him a recompense if saved. He was at that
moment in the bazaar; a man riding on a donkey was passing him,
when he jumped up, as if possessed, from the stall he was sitting
on, knocked the man from his seat, and ———. I should have
continued the story in Arabic (my oracular tongue furnishing no
terms in which to relate it), but I refrain, as the learned who
could decipher the Arabic are probably sufficiently good Oriental
scholars to fill up the blank in my narration. At this moment,
said the truthful historian, he appeared to the mariners, and when,
two days afterwards, the ship entered the port, the saint presented
himself to claim his recompense. But the devil was no longer sick,
and the sheikh’s salvage dues were now denied him. All the people,
however, testified that the scene with the donkey in the market took
place at the hour when his aid was invoked, and, thus convicted,
the promised reward was given.
I might fill a volume with such strange tales, as the
treasure-seeker’s visits are frequent; he had a well-supplied
budget, and he freely communicated its contents, in the hope
of drawing me out in turn. He certainly thought I had private
information about the immense treasures which he believed buried
here; and whatever the subject we were discussing, he always
contrived to introduce in a corner of his talk, _in angulo sui
sermonis_, a question relating to them, or an inquiry as to the
process of rendering quicksilver solid. This was all that he was in
need of to discover the grand arcanum for turning the baser metals
into gold and silver. Did he know the quicksilver secret he was
master of all the rest, and of acquiring this he did not at all
despair. I told him that transmutation was a dream long exploded
among the learned; but I offered him the receipt how to make rubies
and other precious stones, only premising that the cost was greater
than the value of the newly-formed gem.
Having presented the Gibely to my readers, as a good specimen of
the fortune-seeking Moghrabi who abound in the East, it would not be
fair to omit some account of Sheikh Yusuf—a much rarer character,
because really an honest man; though the stories I am going to tell
of him, gathered from his own lips, may not seem to European readers
to bear out the fair praise I give him. He is a very remarkable
man, full of energy, and has made the best use of the education
which an early initiation in affairs gives. He knows the letters
of the alphabet, and this is probably the whole amount of his book
learning; but his memory is well stored with texts of the Koran,
verses of the poets, and those stories which are so pre-eminently
an Oriental accomplishment, and which he related with a vivacity
remarkable in this country of loutish stupidity. His father was
Sheikh el Beled before him, and at thirteen he was also sheikh,
giving his opinion freely, even against his father’s views. When
he was less than seventeen his father was murdered in open day, by
some of the discontented Siwy, one of his own servants heading the
conspiracy. Yusuf, thereupon, proceeded straight to Cairo, and was
by Mohammed Ali appointed Sheikh el Beled in his room. The Pacha
had given Siwah and the Little Oasis, with their revenues, as a
backshish to one Hassan Bey, who had reduced them to his obedience;
and the Sheikh told with gusto some stories of that time, which
are too characteristic to be omitted here.
When his father went to the Proprietor-Governor, he used to take
Yusuf with him, to make him acquainted with affairs; but only as
a listener. One day in the date season, a large number of Arabs,
with their camels, had come from the Okbar, or, as it is called
here, the Gazelle-land, to purchase dates. Hassan Bey coveted his
neighbours’ camels, but was perplexed how to become master of
them without injury to his purse, or incurring Mohammed Ali’s
anger. He consulted Sheikh Ali, who would give no advice, but only
shook his head, and said, “Tyranny, tyranny.” “I’ll tell
you what you should do,” cried Yusuf, eagerly. “What shall I
do, my child?” “You shall buy them for fifteen dollars a-piece,
and lose nothing by the transaction.” He then explained his plan,
which delighted the Bey; but his father only shook his head the more,
and oftener repeated, “Tyranny.” “You, Sheikh Ali,” said the
Bey, “are a graybeard, and do not understand government. Sheikh
Yusuf is young and brave, and I will follow his advice.” The
next day the Arabs were told that the Bey wanted to buy some of
their camels, and that they must bring them to the castle in the
afternoon. Accordingly, before evening, more than three hundred
of the best camels were collected in the court; and the Bey having
ordered several sheep to be killed, invited the owners of the camels
to sup with him. After supper, the bargain was struck for fifteen
dollars a-piece, the Mufti and Cadi being called to witness the
agreement, which was drawn out in writing. All parties affixed their
seals, and the money was paid down at once. After this, the Mufti
and Cadi rose to leave, and all were going to retire from the castle,
when the Bey said to the Arabs, “You are my guests; you must stay
here all night, and we will breakfast together in the morning.”
The bait was tempting to men who love animal food at the cost of
their friends; and the foolish Arabs remained after the others
had withdrawn. The next morning some more sheep were sacrificed to
the genius of hospitality; the Arabs ate with their usual appetite,
and took their departure; but, as they passed out of the gates, each
was forced to restore the money he had received for his camels. Thus
Hassan Bey purchased camels without their costing him anything.
On another occasion, Yusuf helped him to make a not less profitable
speculation in oxen and cows. There were many defaulters to the miri;
and his father and the Bey were in consultation as to the way to get
from them their debt, or its equivalent. There were many cattle in
Siwah at that time, and Sheikh Ali proposed to take them in payment,
at ten dollars a-head, which was rather less than their value; but
Yusuf said, “No; take them at forty dollars a-head, and follow my
plan.” “What is your plan?” “When the dates are gathered,
return their oxen to the owners, making them buy them back at the
original price, and take from them the amount of miri that they
owe in money.” At so large a price, everybody was anxious to
give his cows instead of the miri and the Governor—good-natured
soul!—gave them credit for forty dollars on each one that was
offered; but sent the cattle back to their owners, saying he would
take them when wanted. In October, there was a plentiful date
harvest, and the Bey was chuckling over his intended finesse, when
it occurred to him that many of the cattle had died during the heats
of summer. He sent for Yusuf, to see if he could help him out of
this dilemma. “To those whose cows are alive, return them at the
original price; and as for the others, it is but just they should
refund you the forty dollars which their oxen cost, as they have
never served you, but remained and died in their keeping.” Thus,
by a truly Turkish calculation, the Bey bought cows without paying
for them, and sold them for ready money to their original owners,
who were then made to pay their arrears of taxes, as if there had
been no question of cattle; and who do not, perhaps, at this hour
understand how so fair a transaction resulted to themselves in a
clear loss of forty dollars on each of their beeves.
His own father was once the object of Yusuf’s practical
pleasantries. The town had rebelled, and the ringleaders of the
revolt were imprisoned in the castle. Sheikh Ali received money
from two of the worst, on the promise of obtaining their liberty,
and in the afternoon went to the Bey to intercede for them;
and being a favourite with the Governor, he easily procured an
assurance that they should be liberated next morning. Yusuf learned
what had passed; so, after supper, he set off alone for the castle,
and asked admittance to the Bey. “What brings you at this hour, my
son?” said he, after the first salutation. “My father came here
to-day to ask for the liberty of such and such a one. Do you wish
to know the exact truth?” “Certainly I do; speak.” “Well,
then, know that, in truth, they are the worst men in Siwah; but my
father has taken a bribe to procure their pardon.” At this the
Bey was very angry; and, calling to the guard, he had the prisoners
brought out and beheaded on the spot. Yusuf returned home; and,
next morning, when he came to release them, his father found their
headless bodies lying in the court. “Of course,” said I, “your
father returned the money?” “To whom?” said Yusuf. “The men
were dead; and there was no one could say to my father, ‘You took
a bribe—return the money!’”
After telling these stories of my sheikh, it may seem incredible when
I add that, though feared as a most severe man, he was acknowledged
by all the Siwy never to have taken a bribe, or committed an act
of oppression on his own account. “If you do not do such things
for yourself,” I said, “how can you commit them for others?”
He answered that the Osmanli only value a man as he serves them as
an instrument of extortion.
My long detention in Siwah must, by this time, have become as
wearisome to my reader as it was to myself; let me hasten, then,
to open my prison-doors, and pursue my journey to its end.
On the 14th of March, exactly six weeks from my arrival, about
sunset, there came running to my house some of my Siwy friends,
crying “Backshish for good news!” Two Arabs were to be seen in
the distance, who, soon after, arrived, and announced themselves
as two sheikhs, and very important and big-mouthed personages they
were. They were the avant-couriers of the detachment of irregular
cavalry (Bashi-buzuks), whom the Viceroy of Egypt had sent to my
assistance. One would have thought them the kings of the world, from
the airs they gave themselves, and the monstrous lies they told;
and had I been less accustomed to the assumption of consequence in
which Arabs, and, indeed, all Easterns, indulge, until they have
received a good lesson, I should have been really frightened at
having to entertain such important gentlemen. They came to demand
rations for the men and horses, which were to be furnished by the
town; and, as a matter of course, ordered twice as much as was really
required; and, equally as a matter of course, hardly got, I believe,
half of what they demanded. This contribution was, at my request,
levied on the hostile part of the town, and my friends escaped
unmolested. It was not until the 16th, in the morning, that my
deliverers arrived, having come from Hhosh ebn Issa, near Damanhur,
in nineteen days. They were commanded by a Turcoman, one Hassan Aga,
the wahil, or major of the regiment, an easy-natured soul, somewhat
sulky withal, as assuming as all Turks are, but only requiring to
be held firmly in hand, and an assiduous sayer of his prayers.
Such a commander never was sent in charge of troops; he had with
him twelve or fourteen officers (Buluk-Bashi is their title), and
every one of them seemed to think he had a voice in the command. All
matters, of whatever nature they might be, were discussed in public,
the very soldiers sometimes interfering with advice. Among banditti,
such a republican constitution may sometimes exist; but that the
most irregular troops in the world could be kept together with
such a system seemed impossible. The first day of their arrival,
after having received the Commandant’s visit, I went to the
castle in which the troops were lodged, and made a formal request
that he would seize the Sheikhs of the Lifayah, with the Cadi,
and the Imam of one of the mosques, and carry them with him to
Cairo, to answer before the Viceroy. He said he could not do so,
having no orders, except to bring me away; to which I rejoined,
that no doubt he was quite right; and that I had only to beg a
written acknowledgment that I had required him to take them with
him, but that he, having no orders, was unable to comply with my
request. This he absolutely refused, even Turks being afraid of pen
and ink; but, after five hours’ talk between him and his officers,
who were of various minds, on the one part; and Yusuf and myself
on the other, he shut them up provisionally, excepting the Mufti,
who had accompanied the Sheikhs, and whom I offered to bail. After
this, on my giving him a written demand for their arrest, with an
order from Yusuf, as Sheikh el Belid, he the next morning determined
to carry them to Cairo, and they were consigned to safe-keeping,
with orders to prepare for their journey.
Another day had been lost in this way; and it was only on Friday,
the 18th, that, accompanied by a soldier and three of Sheikh
Yusuf’s people, I started early to see the ruins of Omm Beida,
and any other antiquities which might be found in the oasis. There
was, of course, no longer any opposition on the part of the Siwy,
but the Commandant was very anxious to be off, and only with
difficulty agreed to give me till Sunday evening—far too short
a time to see the many ruins which are met with in the Hattyehs,
beyond the immediate territory of Siwah.