[page 164]
"Evening was falling as across the plain of Háhá trudged a weary traveller. The cold wind whistled through his tattered garments. The path grew dim before his eyes. The stars came out one by one, but no star of hope shone for him. He was faint and hungry. His feet were sore. His head ached. He shivered.
"'May God have pity on me!' he muttered.
"God heard him. A few minutes later he descried an earthly star—a solitary light was twinkling on the distant hillside. Thitherward he turned his steps.
"Hope rose within him. His step grew brisk. The way seemed clear. Onward he pushed.
"Presently he could make out the huts of a village.
"'Thank God!' he cried; but still he had no supper.
"His empty stomach clamoured. His purse was empty also. The fiendish dogs of the village yelped at him. He paused discomfited. He called.
"Widow Záïdah stood before her light.
"'Who's there?'
"'A God-guest'
"'In God's name, then, welcome! Silence there, curs!'
"Abd el Hakk approached.
"'God bless thee, my mother, and repay thee a thousand-fold!'
"But Záïdah herself was poor. Her property consisted only of a hut and some fowls. She set before him eggs—two, hard-boiled,—bread also. He thanked God. He ate.
"'Yes, God will repay,' she said.
"Next day Abd el Hakk passed on to Marrákesh. There God blessed him. Years passed on; one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Abd el Hakk[page 165]was rich. Melûdi the lawyer disliked him. Said he to Widow Záïdah—
"'Abd el Hakk, whom once thou succouredst, is rich. The two eggs were never yet paid for. Hadst thou not given them to him they would have become two chickens. These would each have laid hundreds. Those hundreds, when hatched, would have laid their thousands. In seven years, think to what amount Abd el Hakk is indebted to thee. Sue him.'
"Widow Záïdah listened. What is more, she acted. Abd el Hakk failed to appear to rebut the claim. He was worth no more.
"'Why is the defendant not here?' asked the judge.
"'My lord,' said his attorney, 'he is gone to sow boiled beans.'
"'Boiled beans!'
"'Boiled beans, my lord.'
"'Is he mad?'
"'He is very wise, my lord.'
"'Thou mockest.'
"'My lord, if boiled eggs can be hatched, sure boiled beans will grow!'
"'Dismissed with costs!'
"The tree that bends with every wind that blows will seldom stand upright."
A round of applause greeted the clever tale, of which the speaker's gestures had told even more than his words. But the merriment of the company only began there, for forthwith a babel of tongues was occupied in the discussion of all the points of the case, in imagining every impossible or humorous alternative, and laughter resounded on every side, as the glasses were quickly refilled with an innocent drink.
[page 166]
"Wine is a key to all evil."
Moorish Proverb.
Under the glare of an African sun, its rays, however, tempered by a fresh Atlantic breeze; no roof to his consulting-room save the sky, no walls surrounding him to keep off idle starers like ourselves; by the roadside sits a native doctor of repute. His costume is that of half the crowd around, outwardly consisting of a well-worn brown woollen cloak with a hood pulled over his head, from beneath the skirts of which protrude his muddy feet. By his side lies the basket containing his supplies and less delicate instruments; the finer ones we see him draw from a capacious wallet of leather beneath his cloak.
Though personally somewhat gaunt, he is nevertheless a jolly-looking character, totally free from that would-be professional air assumed by some of our medical students to hide lack of experience; for he, empiric though he be, has no idea of any of his own shortcomings, and greets us with an easy smile. He is seated on the ground, hugging his knees till his attention is drawn to us, when, observing our gaze at his lancets on the ground, he picks one up to show it. Both are of rude construction, merely pieces of flat steel filed to double-edged points, and[page 167]protected by two flaps slightly bigger, in the one case of bone, in the other of brass. A loose rivet holding all together at one end completes the instrument. The brass one he says was made by a Jew in Fez out of an old clock; the other by a Jew in Marrákesh. For the purpose of making scratches for cupping he has a piece of flat steel about half an inch wide, sharpened across the end chisel-fashion. Then he has a piece of an old razor-blade tied to a stick with a string. That this is sharp he soon demonstrates by skilfully shaving an old man's head, after only damping the eighth of an inch stub with which it is covered. A stone and a bit of leather, supplemented by the calves of his legs, or his biceps, serve to keep the edges in condition.
From a finger-shaped leather bag in his satchel he produces an antiquated pair of tooth extractors, a small pair of forceps for pulling out thorns, and a stiletto. The first-named article, he informs us, came from France to Tafilált, his home,viâTlemçen; it is of the design known as "Fox's claw," and he explains to us that the difference between the French and the English article is that the one has no spring to keep the jaws open, while the other has. A far more formidable instrument is the genuine native contrivance, a sort of exaggerated corkscrew without a point.
But here comes a patient to be treated. He troubles the doctor with no diagnosis, asking only to be bled. He is a youth of medium height, bronzed by the sun. Telling him to sit down and bare his right arm, the operator feels it well up and down, and then places the tips of the patient's fingers on the ground, bidding him not to move. Pouring out[page 168]a little water into a metal dish, he washes the arm on the inside of the elbow, drying it with his cloak. Next he ties a piece of list round the upper arm as tightly as he can, and selecting one of the lancets, makes an incision into the vein which the washing has rendered visible. A bright stream issues, squirting into the air some fifteen inches; it is soon, however, directed into a tin soup-plate holding fourteen ounces, as we ascertained by measurement. The operator washes and dries his lancet, wraps the two in a white rag, and puts them into a piece of cane which forms an excellent case. Meanwhile the plate has filled, and he turns his attention once more to the patient. One or two passers-by have stopped, like ourselves, to look on.
"I knew a man," says one, "who was being bled like that, and kept on saying, 'take a little more,' till he fell back dead in our arms."
"Yes," chimes in another, "I have heard of such cases; it is very dangerous."
Although the patient is evidently growing very nervous, our surgical friend affects supreme indifference to all this tittle-tattle, and after a while removes the bandage, bending the forearm inward, with the effect of somewhat checking the flow of blood. When he has bound up with list the cane that holds the lancets, he closes the forearm back entirely, so that the flow is stopped. Opening it again a little, he wipes a sponge over the aperture a few times, and closes it with his thumb. Then he binds a bit of filthy rag round the arm, twisting it above and below the elbow alternately, and crossing over the incision each time. When this is done, he sends the patient to throw away the blood and wash[page 169]the plate, receiving for the whole operation the sum of three half-pence.
Another patient is waiting his turn, an old man desiring to be bled behind the ears for headache. After shaving two patches for the purpose, the "bleeder," as he is justly called, makes eighteen scratches close together, about half an inch long. Over these he places a brass cup of the shape of a high Italian hat without the brim. From near the edge of this protrudes a long brass tube with a piece of leather round and over the end. This the operator sucks to create a vacuum, the moistened leather closing like a valve, which leaves the cup hangingin situ. Repeating this on the other side, he empties the first cup of the blood which has by this time accumulated in it, and so on alternately, till he has drawn off what appears to him to be sufficient. All that remains to be done is to wipe the wounds and receive the fee.
Some years ago such a worthy as this earned quite a reputation for exorcising devils in Southern Morocco. His mode of procedure was brief, but as a rule effective. The patient was laid on the ground before the wise man's tent, face downward, and after reading certain mystic and unintelligible passages, selected from one of the ponderous tomes which form a prominent part of the "doctor's" stock-in-trade, he solemnly ordered two or three men to hold the sufferer down while two more thrashed him till they were tired. If, when released, the patient showed the least sign of returning violence, or complained that the whole affair was a fraud, it was taken as a sure sign that he had not had enough, and he was forthwith seized again[page 170]and the dose repeated till he had learned that discretion was the better part of valour, and slunk off, perhaps a wiser, certainly a sadder man. It is said, and I do not doubt it—though it is more than most medical men can say of their patients—that no one was ever known to return in quest of further treatment.
All this, however, is nothing compared with the Moor's love of fire as a universal panacea. Not only for his mules and his horses, but also for himself and his family, cauterization is in high repute, especially as he estimates the value of a remedy as much by its immediate and visible action as by its ultimate effects. The "fire-doctor" is therefore even a greater character in his way than the "bleeder," whom we have just visited. His outfit includes a collection of queer-shaped irons designed to cauterize different parts of the body, a portable brazier, and bellows made from a goat-skin with a piece of board at one side wherewith to press and expel the air through a tube on the other side. He, too, sits by the roadside, and disposes of his groaning though wonderfully enduring "patients" much as did his rival of the lancet. Rohlfs, a German doctor who explored parts of Morocco in the garb of a native, exercising what he could of his profession for a livelihood, tells how he earned a considerable reputation by the introduction of "cold fire" (lunar caustic) as a rival to the original style; and Pellow, an English slave who made his escape in 1735, found cayenne pepper of great assistance in ingratiating himself with the Moors in this way, and even in delaying a pursuer suffering from ophthalmia by blowing a little into his eyes before his identity[page 171]was discovered. In extenuation of this trick, however, it must be borne in mind that cayenne pepper is an accredited Moorish remedy for ophthalmia, being placed on the eyelids, though it is only a mixture of canary seed and sugar that is blown in.
Every European traveller in Morocco is supposed to know something about medicine, and many have been my own amusing experiences in this direction. Nothing that I used gave me greater fame than a bottle of oil of cantharides, the contents of which I applied freely behind the ears or upon the temples of such victims of ophthalmia as submitted themselves to my tender mercies. Only I found that when my first patient began to dance with the joy and pain of the noble blister which shortly arose, so many people fancied they needed like treatment that I was obliged to restrict the use of so popular a cure to special cases.
One branch of Moroccan medicine consists in exorcising devils, of which a most amusing instance once came under my notice. An English gentleman gave one of his servants who complained of being troubled with these unwelcome guests two good-sized doses of tartaric acid and carbonate of soda a second apart. The immediate exit of the devil was so apparent that the fame of the prescriber as a medical man was made at once. But many of the cases which the amateur is called upon to treat are much more difficult to satisfy than this. Superstition is so strongly mingled with the native ideas of disease,—of being possessed,—that the two can hardly be separated. During an epidemic of cholera, for instance, the people keep as close as possible to[page 172]walls, and avoid sand-hills, for fear of "catching devils." All disease is indeed more or less ascribed to satanic agency, and in Morocco that practitioner is most in repute who claims to attack this cause of the malady rather than its effect.
Although the Moors have a certain rudimentary acquaintance with simple medicinal agents—and how rudimentary that acquaintance is, will better appear from what is to follow,—in all their pharmacopœia no remedy is so often recommended or so implicitly relied on as the "writing" of a man of reputed sanctity. Such a writing may consist merely of a piece of paper scribbled over with the name of God, or with some sentence from the Korán, such as, "And only God is the Healer," repeated many times, or in special cases it may contain a whole series of pious expressions and meaningless incantations. For an ordinary external complaint, such as general debility arising from the evil eye of a neighbour or a jealous wife, or as a preventative against bewitchment, or as a love philtre, it is usually considered sufficient to wear this in a leather bag around the neck or forehead; but in case of unfathomable internal disease, such as indigestion, the "writing" is prescribed to be divided into so many equal portions, and taken in a little water night and morning.
The author of these potent documents is sometimes a hereditary saint descended from Mohammed, sometimes a saint whose sanctity arises from real or assumed insanity—for to be mad in Barbary is to have one's thoughts so occupied with things of heaven as to have no time left for things of earth,—and often they are written by ordinary public[page 173]scribes, or schoolmasters, for among the Moors reading and religion are almost synonymous terms. There are, however, a few professional gentlemen who dispense these writings among their drugs. Such alone of all their quacks aspire to the title of "doctor." Most of these spend their time wandering about the country from fair to fair, setting up their tents wherever there are patients to be found in sufficient numbers.
Attired as natives, let us visit one. Arrived at the tent door, we salute the learned occupant with the prescribed "Salám oo alaïkum" ("To you be peace"), to which, on noting our superior costumes, he replies with a volley of complimentary inquiries and welcomes. These we acknowledge with dignity, and with as sedate an air as possible. We leisurely seat ourselves on the ground in orthodox style, like tailors. As it would not be good form to mention our business at once, we defer professional consultation till we have inquired successfully after his health, his travels, and the latest news at home and from abroad. In the course of conversation he gives us to understand that he is one of the Sultan's uncles, which is by no means impossible in a country where it has not been an unknown thing for an imperial father to lose count of his numerous progeny.
Feeling at last that we have broken the ice, we turn the conversation to the subject of our supposed ailments. My own complaint is a general internal disorder resulting in occasional feverishness, griping pains, and loss of sleep. After asking a number of really sensible questions, such as would seem to place him above the ordinary rank of native practitioners, he gravely announces that he has "the[page 174]very thing" in the form of a powder, which, from its high virtues, and the exceeding number of its ingredients, some of them costly, is rather expensive. We remember the deference with which our costumes were noted, and understand. But, after all, the price of a supply is announced to be only seven-pence halfpenny. The contents of some of the canisters he shows us include respectively, according to his account, from twenty to fifty drugs. For our own part, we strongly suspect that all are spices to be procured from any Moorish grocer.
Together with the prescription I receive instructions to drink the soup from a fat chicken in the morning, and to eat its flesh in the evening; to eat hot bread and drink sweet tea, and to do as little work as possible, the powder to be taken daily for a fortnight in a little honey. Whatever else he may not know, it is evident that our doctor knows full well how to humour his patients.
The next case is even more easy of treatment than mine, a "writing" only being required. On a piece of very common paper two or three inches square, the doctor writes something of which the only legible part is the first line: "In the name of God, the Pitying, the Pitiful," followed, we subsequently learn, by repetitions of "Only God is the Healer." For this the patient is to get his wife to make a felt bag sewed with coloured silk, into which the charm is to be put, along with a little salt and a few parings of garlic, after which it is to be worn round his neck for ever.
Sometimes, in wandering through Morocco, one comes across much more curious remedies than these, for the worthy we have just visited is but a[page 175]commonplace type in this country. A medical friend once met a professional brother in the interior who had a truly original method of proving his skill. By pressing his finger on the side of his nose close to his eye, he could send a jet of liquid right into his interlocutor's face, a proceeding sufficient to satisfy all doubts as to his alleged marvellous powers. On examination it was found that he had a small orifice near the corner of the eye, through which the pressure forced the lachrymal fluid, pure tears, in fact. This is just an instance of the way in which any natural defect or peculiarity is made the most of by these wandering empirics, to impose on their ignorant and credulous victims.
Even such of them as do give any variety of remedies are hardly more to be trusted. Whatever they give, their patients like big doses, and are not content without corresponding visible effects. Epsom salts, which are in great repute, are never given to a man in less quantities than two tablespoonfuls. On one occasion a poor woman came to me suffering from ague, and looking very dejected. I mixed this quantity of salts in a tumblerful of water, with a good dose of quinine, bidding her drink two-thirds of it, and give the remainder to her daughter, who evidently needed it as much as she did. Her share was soon disposed of with hardly more than a grimace, to the infinite enjoyment of a fat, black slave-girl who was standing by, and who knew from personal experience what a tumblerful meant. But to induce the child to take hers was quite another matter. "What! not drink it?" the mother cried, as she held the potion to her lips. "The devil take thee, thou cursed offspring of[page 176]an abandoned woman! May God burn thy ancestors!" But though the child, accustomed to such mild and motherly invectives, budged not, it had proved altogether too much for the jovial slave, who was by this time convulsed with laughter, and so, I may as well confess, was I. At last the woman's powers of persuasion were exhausted, and she drained the glass herself.
When in Fez some years ago, a dog I had with me needed dosing, so I got three drops of croton oil on sugar made ready for him. Mine host, a man of fifty or more, came in meanwhile, and having ascertained the action of the drug from my servant, thought it might possibly do him good, and forthwith swallowed it. Of this the first intimation I had was from the agonizing screams of the old man, who loudly proclaimed that his last hour was come, and from the terrified wails of the females of his household, who thought so too. When I saw him he was rolling on the tiles of the courtyard, his heels in the air, bellowing frantically. I need hardly dilate upon the relief I felt when at last we succeeded in alleviating his pain, and knew that he was out of danger.
Among the favourite remedies of Morocco, hyena's head powder ranks high as a purge, and the dried bones and flesh may often be seen in the native spice-shops, coated with dust as they hang. Some of the prescriptions given are too filthy to repeat, almost to be believed. As a specimen, by no means the worst, I may mention a recipe at one time in favour among the Jewesses of Mogador, according to one writer. This was to drink seven draughts from the town drain where it entered the[page 177]sea, beaten up with seven eggs. For diseases of the "heart," by which they mean the stomach and liver, and of eyes, joints, etc., a stone, which is found in an animal called the horreh, the size of a small walnut, and valued as high as twelve dollars, is ground up and swallowed, the patient thereafter remaining indoors a week. Ants, prepared in various ways, are recommended for lethargy, and lion's flesh for cowardice. Privet or mallow leaves, fresh honey, and chameleons split open alive, are considered good for wounds and sores, while the fumes from the burning of the dried body of this animal are often inhaled. Among more ordinary remedies are saraparilla, senna, and a number of other well-known herbs and roots, whose action is more or less understood. Roasted pomegranate rind in powder is found really effectual in dysentery and diarrhœa.
Men and women continually apply for philtres, and women for means to prevent their husbands from liking rival wives, or for poison to put them out of the way. As arsenic, corrosive sublimate, and other poisons are sold freely to children in every spice-shop, the number of unaccounted-for deaths is extremely large, but inquiry is seldom or never made. When it is openly averred that So-and-so died from "a cup of tea," the only mental comment seems to be that she was very foolish not to be more careful what she drank, and to see that whoever prepared it took the first sip according to custom. The highest recommendation of any particular dish or spice is that it is "heating." Great faith is also placed in certain sacred rocks, tree-stumps, etc., which are visited in the hope of obtaining relief from all sorts of ailments. Visitors[page 178]often leave rags torn from their garments by which to be remembered by the guardian of the place. Others repair to the famous sulphur springs of Zarhôn, supposed to derive their benefit from the interment close by of a certain St. Jacob—and dance in the waters, yelling without intermission, "Cold and hot, O my lord Yakoob! Cold and hot!" fearful lest any cessation of the cry might permit the temperature to be increased or diminished beyond the bearable point.
[page 179]
"Who digs a pit for his brother will fall into it."
Moorish Proverb.
The slave-market differs in no respect from any other in Morocco, save in the nature of the "goods" exposed. In most cases the same place is used for other things at other times, and the same auctioneers are employed to sell cattle. The buyers seat themselves round an open courtyard, in the closed pens of which are the slaves for sale. These are brought out singly or in lots, inspected precisely as cattle would be, and expatiated upon in much the same manner.
For instance, here comes a middle-aged man, led slowly round by the salesman, who is describing his "points" and noting bids. He has first-class muscles, although he is somewhat thin. He is made to lift a weight to prove his strength. His thighs are patted, and his lips are turned to show the gums, which at merrier moments would have been visible without such a performance. With a shame-faced, hang-dog air he trudges round, wondering what will be his lot, though a sad one it is already. At last he is knocked down for so many score of dollars, and after a good deal of further bargaining he changes hands.
[page 180]
The next brought forward are three little girls—a "job lot," maybe ten, thirteen, and sixteen years of age—two of them evidently sisters. They are declared to be already proficient in Arabic, and ready for anything. Their muscles are felt, their mouths examined, and their bodies scrutinized in general, while the little one begins to cry, and the others look as though they would like to keep her company. Round and round again they are marched, but the bids do not rise high enough to effect a sale, and they are locked up again for a future occasion. It is indeed a sad, sad sight.
The sources of supply for the slave-market are various, but the chief is direct from Guinea and the Sáhara, where the raids of the traders are too well understood to need description. Usually some inter-tribal jealousy is fostered and fanned into a flame, and the one which loses is plundered of men and goods. Able-bodied lads and young girls are in most demand, and fetch high prices when brought to the north. The unfortunate prisoners are marched with great hardship and privation to depôts over the Atlas, where they pick up Arabic and are initiated into Mohammedanism. To a missionary who once asked one of the dealers how they found their way across the desert, the terribly significant reply was, "There are many bones along the way!" After a while the survivors are either exposed for sale in the markets of Marrákesh or Fez, or hawked round from door to door in the coast towns, where public auctions are prohibited. Some have even found their way to Egypt and Constantinople, having been transported in British vessels, and landed at Gibraltar as members of the dealer's family!
[page 181]
Another source of supply is the constant series of quarrels between the tribes of Morocco itself, during which many children are carried off who are white or nearly so. In this case the victims are almost all girls, for whom good prices are to be obtained. This opens a door for illegal supplies, children born of slaves and others kidnapped being thus disposed of for hareems. For this purpose the demand for white girls is much in excess of that for black, so that great temptation is offered. I knew a man who had seventeen such in his house, and of nearly a dozen whom I saw there, none were too dark to have passed for English brunettes.
Though nothing whatever can be said in defence of this practice of tearing our fellow-men from their homes, and selling them as slaves, our natural feelings of horror abate considerably when we become acquainted with its results under the rule of Islám. Instead of the fearful state of things which occurred under English or American rule, it is a pleasure to find that, whatever may be the shortcomings of the Moors, in this case, at any rate, they have set us a good example. Even their barbarous treatment of Christian slaves till within a century was certainly no worse than our treatment of black slaves.
To begin with, Mohammedans make no distinction in civil or religious rights between a black skin and a white. So long as a man avows belief in no god but God, and in Mohammed as the prophet of God, complying with certain outward forms of his religion, he is held to be as good a Muslim as anyone else; and as the whole social and civil fabrics are built upon religion and the teachings of the Korán, the social position of every well-behaved[page 182]Mohammedan is practically equal. The possession of authority of any kind will naturally command a certain amount of respectful attention, and he who has any reason for seeking a favour from another is sure to adopt a more subservient mien; but beyond this, few such class distinctions are known as those common in Europe. The slave who, away from home, can behave as a gentleman, will be received as such, irrespective of his colour, and when freed he may aspire to any position under the Sultan. There are, indeed, many instances of black men having been ministers, governors, and even ambassadors to Europe, and such appointments are too common to excite astonishment. They have even, in the past, assisted in giving rise to the misconception that the people of Morocco were "Black-a-Moors."
In many households the slave becomes the trusted steward of his owner, and receives a sufficient allowance to live in comfort. He will possess a paper giving him his freedom on his master's death, and altogether he will have a very good time of it. The liberation of slaves is enjoined upon those who follow Mohammed as a most praiseworthy act, and as one which cannot fail to bring its own reward. But, like too many in our own land, they more often prefer to make use of what they possess till they start on that journey on which they can take nothing with them, and then affect generosity by bestowing upon others that over which they lose control.
One poor fellow whom I knew very well, who had been liberated on the death of his master, having lost his papers, was re-kidnapped and sold again to a man who was subsequently imprisoned for[page 183]fraud, when he got free and worked for some years as porter; but he was eventually denounced and put in irons in a dungeon as part of the property of hissoi-disantmaster.
The ordinary place of the slave is much that of the average servant, but receiving only board, lodging, and scanty clothing, without pay, and being unable to change masters. Sometimes, however, they are permitted to beg or work for money to buy their own freedom, when they become, as it were, their own masters. On the whole, a jollier, harder-working, or better-tempered lot than these Negroes it would be hard to desire, and they are as light-hearted, fortunately, as true-hearted, even in the midst of cruel adversities.
The condition of a woman slave—to which, also, most of what has been said refers—is as much behind that of a man-slave as is that of a free-woman behind that of her lord. If she becomes her master's wife, the mother of a child, she is thereby freed, though she must remain in his service until his death, and she is only treated as an animal, not as a human being.
After all, there is a dark side—one sufficiently dark to need no intensifying. The fact of one man being the possessor of another, just as much as he could be of a horse or cow, places him in the same position with regard to his "chattel" as to such a four-footed animal. "The merciful man is merciful to his beast," but "the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel," and just as one man will ill-treat his beast, while another treats his well, so will one man persecute his slave. Instances of this are quite common enough, and here and there cases[page 184]could be brought forward of revolting brutality, as in the story which follows, but the great thing is that agricultural slavery is practically unknown, and that what exists is chiefly domestic. "Know the slave," says an Arab proverb, "and you know the master."
RABBAH, NARRATOR OF THE SLAVE-GIRL'S STORY.Freyonne, Photo., Gibraltar.RABBAH, NARRATOR OF THE SLAVE-GIRL'S STORY.
[page 185]
"After many adversities, joy."
Moorish Proverb.
Outside the walls of Mazagan an English traveller had pitched his camp. Night had fallen when one of his men, returning from the town, besought admission to the tent.
"Well, how now?"
"Sir, I have a woman here, by thy leave, yes, a woman, a slave, whom I found at the door of thy consulate, where she had taken refuge, but the police guard drove her away, so I brought her to thee for justice. Have pity on her, and God will reward thee! See, here! Rabhah!"
At this bidding there approached a truly pitiable object, a dark-skinned woman, not quite black, though of decidedly negroid appearance—whose tattered garments scarcely served to hide a half-starved form. Throwing herself on the ground before the foreigner, she begged his pity, his assistance, for the sake of the Pitiful God.
"Oh, Bashador," she pleaded, addressing him as though a foreign envoy, "I take refuge with God and with thee! I have no one else. I have fled from my master, who has cruelly used me. See my back!"
[page 186]
Suiting action to word, she slipped aside the coverings from her shoulder and revealed the weals of many a stripe, tears streaming down her face the while. Her tones were such as none but a heart of stone could ignore.
"I bore it ten days, sir, till I could do so no longer, and then I escaped. It was all to make me give false witness—from which God deliver me—for that I will never do. My present master is the Sheïkh bin Záharah, Lieutenant Kaïd of the Boo Azeezi, but I was once the slave-wife of the English agent, who sold me again, though they said that he dare not, because of his English protection. That was why I fled for justice to the English consul, and now come to thee. For God's sake, succour me!"
With a sob her head fell forward on her breast, as again she crouched at the foreigner's feet, till made to rise and told to relate her whole story quietly. When she was calmer, aided by questions, she unfolded a tale which could, alas! be often paralleled in Morocco.
"My home? How can I tell thee where that was, when I was brought away so early? All I know is that it was in the Sûdán" (i.e.Land of the Blacks), "and that I came to Mogador on my mother's back. In my country the slave-dealers lie in wait outside the villages to catch the children when they play. They put them in bags like those used for grain, with their heads left outside the necks for air. So they are carried off, and travel all the way to this country slung on mules, being set down from time to time to be fed. But I, though born free, was brought by my mother, who had been carried[page 187]off as a slave. The lines cut on my cheek show that, for every free-born child in our country is marked so by its mother. That is our sultan's order. In Mogador my mother's master sold me to a man who took me from her, and brought me to Dár el Baïda. They took away my mother first; they dragged her off crying, and I never saw or heard of her again. When she was gone I cried for her, and could not eat till they gave me sugar and sweet dates. At Dár el Baïda I was sold in the market auction to a shareefa named Lálla Moïna, wife of the mountain scribe who taught the kádi's children. With her I was very happy, for she treated me well, and when she went to Mekka on the pilgrimage she let me go out to work on my own account, promising to make me free if God brought her back safely. She was good to me, Bashador, but though she returned safely she always put off making me free; but I had laid by fifteen dollars, and had bought a boxful of clothes as well. And that was where my trouble began. For God's sake succour me!
"One day the agent saw me in the street, and eyed me so that I was frightened of him. He followed me home, and then sent a letter offering to buy me, but my mistress refused. Then the agent often came to the house, and I had to wait upon him. He told me that he wanted to buy me, and that if he did I should be better off than if I were free, but I refused to listen. When the agent was away his man Sarghîni used to come and try to buy me, but in vain; and when the agent returned he threatened to bring my mistress into trouble if she refused. At last she had to yield, and I cried[page 188]when I had to go. 'Thou art sold to that man,' she said; 'but as thou art a daughter to me, he has promised to take care of thee and bring thee back whenever I wish.'
"Sarghîni took me out by one gate with the servants of the agent, who took care to go out with a big fat Jew by another, that the English consul should not see him go out with a woman. We rode on mules, and I wore a white cloak; I had not then begun to fast" (i.e.was not yet twelve years of age). "After two days on the road the agent asked for the key of my box, in which he found my fifteen dollars, tied up in a rag, and took them, but gave me back my clothes. We were five days travelling to Marrákesh, staying each night with a kaïd who treated us very well. So I came to the agent's house.
"There I found many other slave girls, besides men slaves in the garden. These were Ruby, bought in Saffi, by whom the agent had a daughter; and Star, a white girl stolen from her home in Sûs, who had no children; Jessamine the Less, another white girl bought in Marrákesh, mother of one daughter; Jessamine the Greater, whose daughter was her father's favourite, loaded with jewels; and others who cooked or served, not having children, though one had a son who died. There were thirteen of us under an older slave who clothed and fed us.
"When the bashador came to the house the agent shut all but five or six of us in a room, the others waiting on him. I used to have to cook for the bashador, for whom they had great receptions with music and dancing-women. Next door there was a[page 189]larger house, a fandak, where the agent kept public women and boys, and men at the door took money from the Muslims and Nazarenes who went there. The missionaries who lived close by know the truth of what I say.
"A few days after I arrived I was bathed and dressed in fresh clothes, and taken to my master's room, as he used to call for one or another according to fancy. But I had no child, because he struck me, and I was sick. When one girl, named Amber, refused to go to him because she was ill, he dragged her off to another part of the house. Presently we heard the report of a pistol, and he came back to say she was dead. He had a pistol in his hand as long as my forearm. We found the girl in a pool of blood in agonies, and tried to flee, but had nowhere to go. So when she was quite dead he made us wash her. Then he brought in four men to dig a pit, in which he said he would bury butter. When they had gone we buried her there, and I can show you the spot.
"One day he took two men slaves and me on a journey. One of them ran away, the other was sold by the way. I was sold at the Tuesday market of Sîdi bin Nûr to a dealer in slaves, whom I heard promise my master to keep me close for three months, and not to sell me in that place lest the Nazarenes should get word of it. Some time after I was bought by a tax-collector, with whom I remained till he died, and then lived in the house of his son. This man sold me to my present master, who has ill-treated me as I told thee. Oh, Bashador, when I fled from him, I came to the English consul because I was told that the agent had had no right[page 190]to hold or sell me, since he had English protection. Thou knowest what has happened since. Here I am, at thy feet, imploring assistance. I beseech thee, turn me not away. I speak truth before God."
No one could hear such a tale unmoved, and after due inquiry the Englishman thus appealed to secured her liberty on depositing at the British Consulate the $140 paid for her by her owner, who claimed her or the money. Rabhah's story, taken down by independent persons at different times, was afterwards told by her without variation in a British Court of Law. Subsequently a pronouncement as to her freedom having been made by the British Legation at Tangier, the $140 was refunded, and she lives free to-day. The last time the writer saw her, in the service of a European in Morocco, he was somewhat taken aback to find her arms about his neck, and to have kisses showered on his shoulders for the unimportant part that he had played in securing her freedom.
[page 191]
"Work for the children is better than pilgrimage or holy war."
Moorish Proverb.
Year by year the month succeeding the fast of Ramadán sees a motley assemblage of pilgrims bound for Mekka, gathered at most of the North African ports from all parts of Barbary and even beyond, awaiting vessels bound for Alexandria or Jedda. This comparatively easy means of covering the distance, which includes the whole length of the Mediterranean when the pilgrims from Morocco are concerned—not to mention some two-thirds of the Red Sea,—has almost entirely superseded the original method of travelling all the way by land, in the once imposing caravans.
These historic institutions owed their importance no less to the facilities they offered for trade, than to the opportunity they afforded for accomplishing the pilgrimage which is enjoined on every follower of Mohammed. Although caravans still cross the deserts of North Africa in considerable force from west to east, as well as from south to north, to carry on the trade of the countries to the south of the Barbary States, the former are steadily dwindling down to mere local affairs, and the number of travellers who select the modern route by steamer[page 192]is yearly increasing, as its advantages become better known. For the accommodation of the large number of passengers special vessels are chartered by speculators, and are fitted up for the occasion. Only some £3 are charged for the whole journey from Tangier, a thousand pilgrims being crowded on a medium-sized merchant vessel, making the horrors of the voyage indescribable.
But the troubles of the pilgrims do not begin here. Before they could even reach the sea some of them will have travelled on foot for a month from remote parts of the interior, and at the coast they may have to endure a wearisome time of waiting for a steamer. It is while they are thus learning a lesson of patience at one of the Moorish ports that I will invite you for a stroll round their encampment on the market-place.
This consists of scores of low, makeshift tents, with here and there a better-class round one dotted amongst them. The prevailing shape of the majority is a modified edition of the dwelling of the nomad Arab, to which class doubtless belongs a fair proportion of their occupants. Across the top of two poles about five feet high, before and behind, a ridge-piece is placed, and over this is stretched to the ground on either side a long piece of palmetto or goat-hair cloth, or perhaps one of the long woollen blankets worn by men and women alike, called haïks, which will again be used for its original purpose on board the vessel. The back is formed of another piece of some sort of cloth stretched out at the bottom to form a semi-circle, and so give more room inside. Those who have a bit of rug or a light mattress, spread it on the floor,[page 193]and pile their various other belongings around its edge.
The straits to which many of these poor people are put to get a covering of any kind to shelter them from sun, rain, and wind, are often very severe, to judge from some of the specimens of tents—if they deserve the name—constructed of all sorts of odds and ends, almost anything, it would seem, that will cover a few square inches. There is one such to be seen on this busy market which deserves special attention as a remarkable example of this style of architecture. Let us examine it. The materials of which it is composed include hair-cloth, woollen-cloth, a cotton shirt, a woollen cloak, and some sacking; goat skin, sheep's fleece, straw, and palmetto cord; rush mats, a palmetto mat, split-cane baskets and wicker baskets; bits of wood, a piece of cork, bark and sticks; petroleum tins flattened out, sheet iron, zinc, and jam and other tins; an earthenware dish and a stone bottle, with bits of crockery, stones, and a cow's horn to weight some of the other items down. Now, if any one can make anything of this, which is an exact inventory of such of the materials as are visible on the outside, he must be a born architect. Yet here this extraordinary construction stands, as it has stood for several months, and its occupant looks the jolliest fellow out. Let us pay him a visit.
Stooping down to look under the flap which serves as a door, and raising it with my stick, I greet him with the customary salutation of "Peace be with you." "With you be peace," is the cheery reply, to which is added, "Welcome to thee; make[page 194]thyself at home." Although invited to enter, I feel quite enough at home on the outside of his dwelling, so reply that I have no time to stay, as I only "looked in" to have the pleasure of making his acquaintance and examining his "palace." At the last word one or two bystanders who have gathered round indulge in a little chuckle to themselves, overhearing which I turn round and make the most flattering remarks I can think of as to its beauty, elegance, comfort, and admirable system of ventilation, which sets the whole company, tenant included, into a roar of laughter. Mine host is busy cleaning fish, and now presses us to stay and share his evening meal with him, but our appetites are not quite equal tothatyet, though it is beyond doubt that the morsel he would offer us would be as savoury and well cooked as could be supplied by any restaurant in Piccadilly.
Inquiries elicit the fact that our friend is hoping to leave for Mekka by the first steamer, and that meanwhile he supports himself as a water-carrier, proudly showing us his goat-skin "bottle" lying on the floor, with the leather flap he wears between it and his side to protect him from the damp. Here, too, are his chain and bell, with the bright brass and tin cups. In fact, he is quite a "swell" in his way, and, in spite of his uncouth-looking surroundings, manages to enjoy life by looking on the bright side of things.
"What will you do with your palace when you leave it?" we ask, seeing that it could not be moved unless the whole were jumbled up in a sack, when it would be impossible to reconstruct it.