Chapter XIV: Part III: XXXII (1)

ALGERIA VIEWED FROM MOROCCO

"One does not become a horseman till one has fallen."

_Moorish Proverb._

A journey through Algeria shows what a stable and enlightened Government has been able to do in a land by no means so highly favoured by Nature as Morocco, and peopled by races on the whole inferior. The far greater proportion of land there under cultivation emphasizes the backward state of Morocco, although much of it still remains untouched; while the superior quality of the produce, especially of the fruits, shows what might be accomplished in the adjoining country were its condition improved. The hillsides of Algeria are in many districts clothed with vines which prosper exceedingly, often almost superseding cereals as objects of cultivation by Europeans.

The European colonists are of all nationalities, and the proportion which is not French is astonishingly large, but every inducement is held out for naturalization as Algerians, and all legitimate obstacles are thrown in the way of those who maintain fidelity to their fatherlands. Every effort is made to render Algeria virtually part of France, as politically it is already considered to be. It is the case of the old days of slavery revived under a new form, when the renegade was received with open arms, and the man who remained steadfast was seldom released from slavery. Of course, in these days there is nothing approaching such treatment, and it is only the natives who suffer to any extent.

These are despised, if not hated, and despise and hate in return. The conquerors have repeated in Algeria the old mistake which has brought about such dire results in other lands, of always retaining the position of conquerors, and never unbending to the conquered, or encouraging friendship with them. This attitude nullifies whatever good may result from the mixed schools in which Muslim, Jew, and European are brought in contact, in the hope of turning out a sort of social amalgam. Most of the French settlers are too conceited and too ignorant to learn Arabic, though this is by no means the fault of the Government, which provides free public classes for instruction in that language in the chief towns of Algeria and Tunisia. The result is that the natives who meet most with foreigners have, without the most ordinary facilities enjoyed by the Europeans, to pick up a jargon which often does much more credit to them than the usual light acquaintance of the foreigner with Arabic does to him. Those who make any pretence at it, usually speak it with an accent, a pronunciation and a nonchalance which show that they have taken no pains whatever to acquire it. Evidently it pays better to spend money educating natives in French than Frenchmen in Arabic. It is an amusing fact that most of the teachers have produced their own text-books, few of which possess special merit.

As a colony Algeria has proved a failure. Foreign settlers hold most of the desirable land, and till it with native labour. The native may have safety and justice now, but he has suffered terribly in the past, as the reports of the Bureau Arabe, established for his protection, abundantly prove, and bitterly he resents his fate. No love is lost between French and natives in Tunisia, but there is actual hatred in Algeria, fostered by the foreigner far more than by the smouldering bigotry of Islám. They do not seem to intermingle even as oil and water, but to follow each a separate, independent course.

Among the foreign colonists it is a noteworthy fact that the most successful are not the French, who want too much comfort, but almost any of the nationalities settled there, chiefly Spaniards and Italians. The former are to be found principally in the neighbourhood of Óran, and the latter further east; they abound in Tunisia. Englishmen and others of more independent nature have not been made welcome in either country, and year by year their interests have dwindled. Even in Tunisia, under a different system, the same result has been achieved, and every restriction reconcilable with paper rights has been placed on other than French imports. There may be an "open door," but it is too closely guarded for us. The English houses that once existed have disappeared, and what business is done with this country has had to take refuge with agents, for the most part Jews.

In studying the life of Algerian towns, the almost entire absence of well-to-do Arabs or Berbers is striking. I never came across one who might be judged from his appearance to be a man of means or position, unless in military or official garb, though there are doubtless many independent natives among the Berber and Arab tribes. The few whom I encountered making any pretence of dressing well were evidently of no social rank, and the complaint on every hand is that the natives are being gradually ousted from what little is left to them.

As for European law, they consider this to have no connection with justice, and think themselves very heavily taxed to support innovations with which they have no concern, and which they would rather dispense with. One can, indeed, feel for them, though there is no doubt much to be said on both sides, especially when it is the other side which boasts the power, if not the superior intelligence. The Jews, however, thrive, and in many ways have the upper hand, especially so since the wise move which accorded them the rights of French citizenship. It is remarkable, however, how much less conspicuous they are in the groups about the streets than in Morocco, notwithstanding that their dress is quite as distinctive as there, though different.

The new-comer who arrives at the fine port of Algiers finds it as greatly transformed as its name has been from the town which originally bore it, El Jazîrah. The fine appearance of the rising tiers of houses gives an impression of a still larger city than it really is, for very little is hidden from view except the suburbs. From a short way out to sea the panorama is grand, but it cannot be as chaste as when the native city clustered in the hollow with its whitewashed houses and its many minarets, completely surrounded by green which has long since disappeared under the advancing tide of bricks and mortar. One can hardly realize that this fine French city has replaced the den of pirates of such fearful histories. Yet there is the original light-house, the depôt for European slaves, and away on the top of yonder hill are remains of the ancient citadel. It was there, indeed, that those dreadful cruelties were perpetrated, where so many Christians suffered martyrdom. Yes, this is where once stood the "famous and war-like city, El Jazîrah," which was in its time "the scourge of Christendom."

Whether the visitor be pleased or disappointed with the modern city depends entirely on what he seeks. If he seeks Europe in Africa, with perhaps just a dash of something oriental, he will be amply satisfied with Algiers, which is no longer a native city at all. It is as French as if it had risen from the soil entirely under French hands, and only the slums of the Arab town remain. The seeker after native life will therefore meet with complete disappointment, unless he comes straight from Europe, with no idea what he ought to expect. All the best parts of the town, the commercial and the residential quarters, have long since been replaced by European substitutes, leaving hardly a trace of the picturesque originals, while every day sees a further encroachment on the erstwhile African portion, the interest of which is almost entirely removed by the presence of crowds of poor Europeans and European-dressed Jews. The visitor to Algiers would therefore do well to avoid everything native, unless he has some opportunity of also seeing something genuine elsewhere. The only specimens he meets in the towns are miserable half-caste fellows--by habit, if not by birth,--for their dress, their speech, their manners, their homes, their customs, their religion--or rather their lack of religion,--have all suffered from contact with Europeans. But even before the Frenchmen came, it is notorious how the Algerines had sunk under the bane of Turkish rule, as is well illustrated by their own saying, that where the foot of the Turk had trod, grass refused to grow. Of all the Barbary States, perhaps none has suffered more from successive outside influences than the people of Algeria.

The porter who seizes one's luggage does not know when he is using French words or Arabic, or when he introduces Italian, Turkish, or Spanish, and cannot be induced to make an attempt at Arabic to a European unless the latter absolutely refuses to reply to his jargon. Then comes a hideous corruption of his mother tongue, in which the foreign expressions are adorned with native inflexions in the most comical way. His dress is barbarous, an ancient and badly fitting pair of trousers, and stockingless feet in untidy boots, on the heels of which he stamps along the streets with a most unpleasant noise. The collection of garments which complete his attire are mostly European, though the "Fez" cap remains the distinctive feature of the Muslim's dress, and a selhám--that cloak of cloaks, there called a "bûrnûs"--is slung across his shoulder. Some few countrymen are to be seen who still retain the more graceful native costume, with the typical camel-hair or cotton cord bound round the head-dress, but the old inhabitants are being steadily driven out of town.

The characteristic feature of Algerian costumes is the head-cord referred to, which pervades a great part of Arabdom, in Syria and Arabia being composed of two twists of black camel hair perhaps an inch thick. In Algeria it is about an eighth of an inch thick, and brown. The slippers are also characteristic, but ugly, being of black leather, excellently made, and cut very far open, till it becomes an art to keep them on, and the heels have to be worn up. The use of the white selhám is almost universal, unhemmed at the edges, as in Tunis also; and over it is loosely tied a short haïk fastened on the head by the cord.

There is, however, even in Algiers itself, one class of men who remain unaffected by their European surroundings, passive amid much change, a model for their neighbours. These are the Beni M'záb, a tribe of Mohammedan Protestants from southern Algeria, where they settled long ago, as the Puritans did in New England, that they might there worship God in freedom. They were the Abadîya, gathered from many districts, who have taken their modern name from the tribe whose country they now inhabit. They speak a dialect of Berber, and dress in a manner which is as distinctive as their short stature, small, dark, oily features, jet-black twinkling eyes, and scanty beard. They come to the towns to make money, and return home to spend it, after a few years of busy shop-keeping. A butcher whom I met said that he and a friend had the business year and year about, so as not to be too long away from home at a time. They are very hard-working, and have a great reputation for honesty; they keep their shops open from about five in the morning till nine at night. As the Beni M'záb do not bring their wives with them, they usually live together in a large house, and have their own mosque, where they worship alone, resenting the visits of all outsiders, even of other Muslims. Admission to their mosque is therefore practically refused to Europeans, but in Moorish dress I was made welcome as some distinguished visitor from saintly Fez, and found it very plain, more like the kûbbah of a saint-house than an ordinary mosque.

There are also many Moors in Algeria, especially towards the west. These, being better workmen than the Algerines, find ready employment as labourers on the railways. Great numbers also annually visit Óran and the neighbourhood to assist at harvest time. Those Moors who live there usually disport themselves in trousers, strange to stay, and, when they can afford it, carry umbrellas. They still adhere to the turban, however, instead of adopting the head cord. At Blidah I found that all the sellers of sfinges--yeast fritters--were Moors, and those whom I came across were enthusiastic to find one who knew and liked their country. The Algerines affect to despise them and their home, which they declare is too poor to support them, thus accounting for their coming over to work.

The specimens of native architecture to be met with in Algeria are seldom, if ever, pure in style, and are generally extremely corrupt. The country never knew prosperity as an independent kingdom, such as Morocco did, and it is only in Tlemçen, on the borders of that Empire, that real architectural wealth is found, but then this was once the capital of an independent kingdom. The palace at Constantine is not Moorish at all, except in plan, being adorned with a hap-hazard collection of odds and ends from all parts. It is worse than even the Bardo at Tunis, where there is some good plaster carving--naksh el hadeed--done by Moorish or Andalucian workmen. In the palaces of the Governor and the Archbishop of Algiers, which are also very composite, though not without taste, there is more of this work, some of it very fine, though much of it is merely modern moulded imitation.

Of more than a hundred mosques and shrines found in Algiers when it was taken by the French, only four of the former and a small number of the latter remain, the rest having been ruthlessly turned into churches. The Mosque of Hasan, built just over a century ago, is now the cathedral, though for this transformation it has been considerably distorted, and a mock-Moorish façade erected in the very worst taste. Inside things are better, having been less interfered with, but what is now a church was never a good specimen of a mosque, having been originally partly European in design, the work of renegades. The same may be said of the Mosque of the Fisheries, a couple of centuries old, built in the form of a Greek cross! One can well understand how the Dey, according to the story, had the architect put to death on discovering this anomaly. These incongruities mar all that is supposed in Algeria to be Arabesque. The Great Mosque, nevertheless, is more ancient and in better style, more simple, more chaste, and more awe-inspiring. The Zawîah of Sîdi Abd er-Rahmán, outside the walls, is as well worth a visit as anything in Algiers, being purely and typically native. It is for the opportunities given for such peeps as this that one is glad to wander in Algeria after tasting the real thing in Morocco, where places of worship and baths are closed to Europeans. These latter I found all along North Africa to be much what they are in Morocco, excepting only the presence of the foreigners.

The tile work of Algeria is ugly, but many of the older Italian and other foreign specimens are exceptionally good, both in design and colour. Some of the Tunisian tiles are also noteworthy, but it is probable that none of any real artistic value were ever produced in what is now conveniently called Algeria. There is nothing whatever in either country to compare with the exquisite Fez work found in the Alhambra, hardly to rival the inferior productions of Tetuan. A curious custom in Algeria is to use all descriptions of patterns together "higgledy-piggledy," upside down or side-ways, as though the idea were to cover so much surface with tiling, irrespective of design. Of course this is comparatively modern, and marks a period since what art Algeria ever knew had died out. It is noticeable, too, how poor the native manufacturers are compared with those of Morocco, themselves of small account beside those of the East. The wave of civilization which swept over North Africa in the Middle Ages failed to produce much effect till it recoiled upon itself in the far, far west, and then turned northward into Spain.

Notwithstanding all this, Algeria affords an ample field for study for the scientist, especially the mountain regions to the south, where Berber clans and desert tribes may be reached in a manner impossible yet in Morocco, but the student of oriental life should not visit them till he has learnt to distinguish true from false among the still behind-hand Moors.

XXXIII

TUNISIA VIEWED FROM MOROCCO

"The slave toils, but the Lord completes."

_Moorish Proverb._

Fortunately for the French, the lesson learned in Algeria was not neglected when the time came for their "pacific penetration" of Tunisia. Their first experience had been as conquerors of anything but pacific intent, and for a generation they waged war with the Berber tribes. Everywhere, even on the plains, where conquest was easy, the native was dispossessed. The land was allotted to Frenchmen or to natives who took the oath of allegiance to France, and became French subjects. Those who fought for their fatherland were driven off, the villages depopulated, and the country laid waste. In the cities the mosques were desecrated or appropriated to what the native considered idolatrous worship. They have never been restored to their owners. Those Algerines only have flourished who entered the French army or Government service, and affected manners which all but cut them off from their fellow-countrymen.

In Tunisia the French succeeded, under cover of specious assurances to the contrary, in overthrowing the Turkish beys, rehabilitating them in name as their puppets, with hardly more opposition than the British met with in Burma. The result is a nominally native administration which takes the blame for failures, and French direction which takes the credit for successes. All that was best in Algeria has been repeated, but native rights have been respected, and the cities, with their mosques and shrines, left undisturbed as far as possible. The desecration of the sacred mosque of Kaïrwán as a stable was a notable exception.

The difference between the administration of Algeria and that of Tunisia makes itself felt at every step. In the one country it is the ruling of a conquered people for the good of the conquerors alone, and in the other it is the ruling of an unconquered people by bolstering up and improving their own institutions under the pretence of seeking their welfare. The immense advantage of the Tunisian system is apparent on all sides. The expense is less, the excuses for irregularities are greater, and the natives still remain a nominal power in the land, instead of being considered as near serfs as is permissible in this twentieth century.

The results of the French occupation were summed up to me by a Tunisian as the making of roads, the introduction of more money and much drunkenness, and the institution of laws which no native could ever hope to understand. But France has done more than that in Tunis, even for the native. He has the benefit of protection for life and property, with means of education and facilities for travel, and an outlet for his produce. He might do well--and there are many instances of commercial success--but while he is jibbing against the foreign yoke, the expatriated Jews, whom he treated so badly when he had the upper hand, are outstripping him every day. The net result of the foreigners' presence is good for him, but it would be much better had he the sense to take advantage of his chances as the Jew does. Many of the younger generation, indeed, learn French, and enter the great army of functionaries, but they are rigidly restricted to the lowest posts, and here again the Jew stands first.

In business or agriculture there is sure to come a time when cash is needed, so that French and Jewish money-lenders flourish, and when the Tunisian cannot pay, the merciless hand of foreign law irresistibly sells him up. In the courts the complicated procedure, the intricate code, and the swarm of lawyers, bewilder him, and he sighs for the time when a bribe would have settled the question, and one did at least know beforehand which would win--the one with the longer purse. Now, who knows? But the Tunisian's principal occasions for discontent are the compulsory military service, and the multiplication and weight of the taxes. From the former only those are exempt who can pass certain examinations in French, and stiff ones at that, so that Arabic studies are elbowed out; the unremitted military duties during the Ramadán fast are regarded as a peculiar hardship. To the taxes there seems no end, and from them no way of escape. Even the milkman complains, for example, that though his goats themselves are taxed, he cannot bring their food into town from his garden without an additional charge being paid!

With the superficial differences to be accounted for by this new state of things, there still remains much more in Tunisia to remind one of Morocco than in Algeria. What deeper distinctions there are result in both countries from Turkish influence, and Turkish blood introduced in the past, but even these do not go very deep. Beneath it all there are the foundations of race and creed common to all, and the untouched countryman of Tunisia is closely akin to his fellow of Morocco. Even in the towns the underlying likeness is strong.

The old city of Tunis is wonderfully like that of Fez; the streets, the shops, the paving, being identical; but in the former a picturesque feature is sometimes introduced, stone columns forming arcades in front of the shops, painted in spiral bands of green and red, separated by a band of white. The various trades are grouped there as further west, and the streets are named after them. The Mellah, or Jewish Quarter, has lost its boundary, as at Tangier, and the gates dividing the various wards have disappeared too. Hardly anything remains of the city walls, new ones having arisen to enclose the one European and two native suburbs. But under a modern arcade in the main street, the Avenue de France, there is between the shops the barred gate leading to a mosque behind, which does not look as if it were often opened.

Tramways run round the line of the old walls, and it is strange to see the natives jumping on and off without stopping the car, in the most approved western style. There, as in the trains, European and African sit side by side, though it is to be observed that as a rule, should another seat be free, neither gets in where the other is. As for hopes of encouraging any degree of amalgamation, these are vain indeed. A mechanical mixture is all that can be hoped for: nothing more is possible. A few French people have embraced Islám for worldly aims, and it is popularly believed by the natives that in England thousands are accepting Mohammed.

The mosques of Tunis are less numerous than those of Fez, but do not differ greatly from them except in the inferior quality of the tile-work, and in the greater use of stone for the arches and towers. The latter are of the Moorish square shape, but some, if not all, are ascended by steps, instead of by inclined planes. The mosques, with the exception of that at Kaïrwán--the most holy, strange to say--are as strictly forbidden to Europeans and Jews as in Morocco, and screens are put up before the doors as in Tangier.

The Moors are very well known in Tunis, so many of them, passing through from Mekka on the Hajj, have been prevented from getting home by quarantine or lack of funds. Clad as a Moor myself, I was everywhere recognized as from that country, and was treated with every respect, being addressed as "Amm el Háj" ("Uncle Pilgrim"), having my shoulders and hands kissed in orthodox fashion. There are several _cafés_ where Morocco men are to be met with by the score. One feature of this cosmopolitan city is that there are distinct _cafés_ for almost every nation represented here except the English.

The Arabs of Morocco are looked upon as great thieves, but the Sûsis have the highest reputation for honesty. Not only are all the gate-keepers of the city from that distant province, but also those of the most important stores and houses, as well as of the railway-stations, and many are residents in the town. The chief snake-charmers and story-tellers also hail from Sûs.

The veneration for Mulai Táïb of Wazzán, from whom the shareefs of that place are descended, is great, and the Aïsáwa, hailing from Mequinez, are to be met with all along this coast; they are especially strong at Kaïrwán. In Tunis, as also in Algeria and Tripoli, the comparative absence of any objection to having pictures taken of human beings, which is an almost insurmountable hindrance in Morocco, again allowed me to use my kodak frequently, but I found that the Jews had a strong prejudice against portraits.

The points in which the domestic usages of Tunisia differ from those of Morocco are the more striking on account of the remarkably minute resemblance, if not absolute identity, of so very many others, and as the novelty of the innovations wears off, it is hard to realize that one is not still in the "Far West."

In a native household of which I found myself temporarily a member, it was the wholesale assimilation of comparatively trivial foreign matters which struck me. Thus, for instance, as one of the sons of my host remarked--though he was dressed in a manner which to most travellers would have appeared exclusively oriental--there was not a thing upon him which was not French. Doubtless a closer examination of his costume would have shown that some of the articles only reached him through French hands, but the broad fact remained that they were all foreign. It is in this way that the more civilized countries show a strong and increasing tendency to develop into nations of manufacturers, with their gigantic workshops forcing the more backward, _nolens volens_, to relapse to the more primitive condition of producers of raw material only.

There was, of course, a time when every garment such a man would have worn would have been of native manufacture, without having been in any feature less complete, less convenient, or less artistic than his present dress. In many points, indeed, there is a distinct loss in the more modern style, especially in the blending of colours, while it is certain that in no point has improvement been made. My friend, for instance, had the addition, common there, of a pair of striped merino socks, thrust into a pair of rubber-soled tennis shoes. Underneath he wore a second pair of socks, and said that in winter he added a third. Above them was not much bare leg, for the pantaloons are cut there so as often to reach right down to the ankles. This is necessitated by the custom of raising the mattresses used for seats on divans, and by sitting at table on European chairs with the legs dangling in the cold. The turban has nothing of the gracefulness of its Moorish counterpart, being often of a dirty-green silk twisted into a rope, and then bound round the head in the most inelegant fashion, sometimes showing the head between the coils; they are not folds. Heads are by no means kept so carefully shaved as in Morocco, and I have seen hair which looked as though only treated with scissors, and that rarely.

The fashion for all connected with the Government to wear European dress, supplemented by the "Fez" (fortunately not the Turkish style), brings about most absurd anomalies. This is especially observable in the case of the many very stout individuals who waddle about like ducks in their ungainly breeches. I was glad to find on visiting the brother of the late Bey that he retained the correct costume, though the younger members of his family and all his attendants were in foreign guise. The Bey himself received me in the frock-coat with pleated skirt, favoured by his countrymen the Turks.

A TUNISIAN JEWESS IN STREET DRESS.]

The Mohammedan women seen in the streets generally wear an elegant fine silk and wool haïk over a costume culminating in a peaked cap, the face being covered--all but the eyes--by two black handkerchiefs, awful to behold, like the mask of a stage villain. More stylish women wear a larger veil, which they stretch out on either side in front of them with their hands. They seem to think nothing of sitting in a railway carriage opposite a man and chatting gaily with him. I learn from an English lady resident in Tunis that the indoor costume of the women is much that of the Jewesses out of doors--extraordinary indeed. It is not every day that one meets ladies in the street in long white drawers, often tight, and short jackets, black or white, but this is the actual walking dress of the Jewish ladies of Tunis.

XXXIV

TRIPOLI VIEWED FROM MOROCCO

"Every sheep hangs by her own legs."

_Moorish Proverb._

When, after an absence of twenty months, I found myself in Tripoli, although far enough from Morocco, I was still amid familiar sights and sounds which made it hard to realize that I was not in some hitherto unvisited town of that Empire. The petty differences sank to naught amid the wonderful resemblances. It was the Turkish element alone which was novel, and that seemed altogether out of place, foreign as it is to Africa. There was something quite incongruous in the sight of those ungainly figures in their badly fitting, quasi-European black coats and breeches, crowned with tall and still more ungainly red caps. The Turks are such an inferior race to the Berbers and Arabs that it is no wonder that they are despised by the natives. They appear much more out of place than do the Europeans, who remain, as in Morocco, a class by themselves. To see a Turk side by side with a white-robed native at prayer in a mosque is too ridiculous, and to see him eating like a wild man of the woods! Even the governor, a benign old gentleman, looked very undignified in his shabby European surroundings, after the important appearance of the Moorish functionaries in their flowing robes. The sentinels at the door seemed to have been taught to imitate the wooden salute of the Germans, which removes any particle of grace which might have remained in spite of their clumsy dress. It is a strange sight to see them selling their rations of uninviting bread in the market to buy something more stimulating. They squat behind a sack on the ground as the old women do in Tangier. These are the little things reminding one that Tripoli is but a Turkish dependency.

We may complain of the Moorish customs arrangements, but from my own experience, and from what others tell me, I should say that here is worse still. Not only were our things carefully overhauled, but the books had to be examined, as a result of which process Arabic works are often confiscated, either going in or out. The confusing lack of a monetary system equals anything even in southern Morocco, between which and this place the poor despised "gursh" turns up as a familiar link, not to be met with between Casablanca and Tripoli.

Perhaps the best idea of the town for those readers acquainted with Morocco will be to call it a large edition of Casablanca. The country round is flat, the streets are on the whole fairly regular, and wider than the average in this part of the world. Indeed, carriages are possible, though not throughout the town. A great many more flying arches are thrown across the streets than we are accustomed to further west, but upper storeys are rare. The paving is of the orthodox Barbary style.

The Tripolitan mosques are of a very different style from those of Morocco, the people belonging to a different sect--the Hánafis--Moors, Algerines and Tunisians being of the more rigorous Málikis. Instead of the open courtyard surrounded by a colonnade, here they have a perfectly closed interior roofed with little domes, and lighted by barred windows. The walls are adorned with inferior tiles, mostly European, and the floors are carpeted. Round the walls hang cheap glazed texts from the Korán, and there is a general appearance of tawdry display which is disappointing after the chaste adornment of the finer Moorish mosques, or even the rude simplicity of the poorer ones. Orders may be obtained to view these buildings, of which it is hardly necessary to say I availed myself, in one case ascending also the minaret. These minarets are much less substantial than those of Morocco, being octangular, with protruding stone balconies in something of the Florentine style, reached by winding stairs. The exteriors are whitewashed, the balconies being tiled, and the cupolas painted green. Lamps are hung out at certain feasts. As for the voice of the muédhdhin, it must be fairly faint, since during the week I was there I never heard it. In Morocco this would have been an impossibility.

The language, though differing in many minor details from that employed in Morocco, presents no difficulty to conversation, but it was sometimes necessary to try a second word to explain myself. The differences are chiefly in the names of common things in daily use, and in common adjectives. The music was identical with what we know in the "Far West." Religious strictness is much less than in Morocco, the use of intoxicants being fairly general in the town, the hours of prayer less strictly kept, and the objection to portraits having vanished. There seemed fewer women in the streets than in Morocco, but those who did appear were for the most part less covered up; there was nothing new in the way the native women were veiled, only one eye being shown--I do not now take the foreign Turks into account.

In the streets the absence of the better-class natives is most noticeable; one sees at once that Tripoli is not an aristocratic town like Fez, Tetuan, or Rabat. The differences which exist between the costumes observed and those of Morocco are almost entirely confined to the upper classes. The poor and the country people would be undistinguishable in a Moorish crowd. Among the townsfolk stockings and European shoes are common, but there are no native slippers to equal those of Morocco, and yellow ones are rare. I saw no natives riding in the town; though in the country it must be more common. The scarcity of four-footed beasts of burden is noticeable after the crowded Moorish thoroughfares.

On the whole there is a great lack of the picturesque in the Tripoli streets, and also of noise. The street cries are poor, being chiefly those of vegetable hawkers, and one misses the striking figure of the water-seller, with his tinkling bell and his cry.

The houses and shops are much like those of Morocco, so far as exteriors go, and so are the interiors of houses occupied by Europeans. The only native house to which I was able to gain access was furnished in the worst possible mixture of European and native styles to be found in many Jewish houses in Morocco, but from what I gleaned from others this was no exception to the rule.

Unfortunately the number of grog-shops is unduly large, with all their attendant evils. The wheeled vehicles being foreign, claim no description, though the quaintness of the public ones is great. Palmetto being unknown, the all-pervading halfah fibre takes its place for baskets, ropes, etc. The public ovens are very numerous, and do not differ greatly from the Moorish, except in being more open to the street. The bread is much less tempting; baked in small round cakes, varnished, made yellow with saffron, and sprinkled with gingelly seed. Most of the beef going alive to Malta, mutton is the staple animal food; vegetables are much the same as in Morocco.

The great drawback to Tripoli is its proximity to the desert, which, after walking through a belt of palms on the land side of the town--itself built on a peninsula--one may see rolling away to the horizon. The gardens and palm groves are watered by a peculiar system, the precious liquid being drawn up from the wells by ropes over pulleys, in huge leather funnels of which the lower orifice is slung on a level with the upper, thus forming a bag. The discharge is ingeniously accomplished automatically by a second rope over a lower pulley, the two being pulled by a bullock walking down an incline. The lower lip being drawn over the lower pulley, releases the water when the funnel reaches the top.

The weekly market, Sôk et-Thláthah, held on the sands, is much as it would be in the Gharb el Jawáni, as Morocco is called in Tripoli. The greater number of Blacks is only natural, especially when it is noted that hard by they have a large settlement.

OUTSIDE TRIPOLI.]

It would, of course, be possible to enter into a much more minute comparison, but sufficient has been said to give a general idea of Tripoli to those who know something of Morocco, without having entered upon a general description of the place. From what I saw of the country people, I have no doubt that further afield the similarity between them and the people of central and southern Morocco, to whom they are most akin, would even be increased.

XXXV

FOOT-PRINTS OF THE MOORS IN SPAIN

"Every one buries his mother as he likes."

_Moorish Proverb._

I. FIRST IMPRESSIONS.

Much as I had been prepared by the accounts of others to observe the prevalence of Moorish remains in the Peninsula, I was still forcibly struck at every turn by traces of their influence upon the country, especially in what was their chief home there, Andalucia. Though unconnected with these traces, an important item in strengthening this impression is the remarkable similarity between the natural features of the two countries. The general contour of the surface is the same on either side of the straits for a couple of hundred miles; the same broad plains, separated by low ranges of hills, and crossed by sluggish, winding streams, fed from distant snow-capped mountains, and subject to sudden floods. The very colours of the earth are the same in several regions, the soil being of that peculiar red which gives its name to the Blád Hamrá ("Red Country") near Marrákesh. This is especially observable in the vicinity of Jeréz, and again at Granáda, where one feels almost in Morocco again. Even the colour of the rugged hills and rocks is the same, but more of the soil is cultivated than in any save the grain districts of Morocco.

The vegetation is strikingly similar, the aloe and the prickly pear, the olive and the myrtle abounding, while from the slight glimpses I was able to obtain of the flora, the identity seems also to be continued there. Yet all this, though interesting to the observer, is not to be wondered at. It is our habit of considering the two lands as if far apart, because belonging to separate continents, which leads us to expect a difference between countries divided only by a narrow gap of fourteen miles or less, but one from whose formation have resulted most important factors in the world's history.

The first striking reminders of the Moorish dominion are the names of Arabic origin. Some of the most noteworthy are Granáda (Gharnátah), Alcazar (El Kasar), Arjona (R'honah), Gibraltar (Gibel Tárik), Trafalgár (Tarf el Gharb, "West Point"), Medinah (Madînah, "Town"), Algeciras (El Jazîrah, "The Island"), Guadalquivir (Wád el Kebeer--so pronounced in Spain--"The Great River"), Mulahacen (Mulai el Hasan), Alhama (El Hama, "The Hot Springs"), and numberless others which might be mentioned, including almost every name beginning with "Al."

The rendering of these old Arabic words into Spanish presents a curious proof of the changes which the pronunciation of the Spanish alphabet has undergone during the last four centuries. To obtain anything like the Arabic sound it is necessary to give the letters precisely the same value as in English, with the exception of pronouncing "x" as "sh." Thus the word "alhaja," in everyday use--though unrecognizable as heard from the lips of the modern Castilian, "aláha,"--is nothing but the Arabic "el hájah," with practically the same meaning in the plural, "things" or "goods." To cite more is unnecessary. The genuine pronunciation is still often met with among Jews of Morocco who have come little in contact with Spaniards, and retain the language of their ancestors when expelled from the Peninsula, as also in Spanish America.

The Spanish language is saturated with corrupted Arabic, at all events so far as nouns are concerned. The names of families also are frequently of Arabic origin, as, for instance, Alarcos (Er-Rakkás--"the courier"), Alhama, etc., most of which are to be met with more in the country than in the towns, while very many others, little suspected as such, are Jewish. Although when the most remarkable of nations was persecuted and finally expelled from Spain, a far larger proportion nobly sacrificed their all rather than accept the bauble religion offered them by "The Catholic Kings" (King and Queen), they also have left their mark, and many a noble family could, if it would, trace its descent from the Jews. Some of their synagogues are yet standing, notably at Toledo--whence the many Toledános,--built by Samuel Levy, who was secretary to Don Pedro the Cruel. This was in 1336, a century and a half before the Moors were even conquered, much less expelled, and if the sons of Ishmael have left their mark upon that sunny land, so have the sons of Israel, though in a far different manner. Morocco has ever since been the home of the descendants of a large proportion of the exiles.

The Spanish physiognomy, not so much of the lower as of the upper classes, is strikingly similar to that of the mountaineers of Morocco, and these include some of the finest specimens. The Moors of to-day are of too mingled a descent to present any one distinct type of countenance, and it is the same with the Spaniards. So much of the blood of each flows in the veins of the other, that comparison is rendered more difficult. It is a well-known fact that several of the most ancient families in the kingdom can trace their descent from Mohammedans. A leading instance of this is the house of Mondéjar, lords of Granáda from the time of its conquest, as the then head of the house, Sidi Yahia, otherwise Don Pedro de Granáda, had become a Christian. In the Generalife at that town, still in the custody of the same family, is a genealogical tree tracing its origin right back to the Goths![26]

[26: Andalucia is but a corruption of Vandalucia.]

Next to physiognomy come habits and customs, and of these there are many which have been borrowed, or rather retained, from the Moors, especially in the country. The ploughs, the water-mills, the water-wheels, the irrigation, the treading out of the corn, the weaving of coarse cloth, and many other daily sights, from their almost complete similarity, remind one of Morocco. The bread-shops they call "tahônas," unaware that this is the Arabic for a flour-mill; their water-wheels they still call by their Arabic name, "naôrahs," and it is the same with their pack-saddles, "albardas" (bardah). The list might be extended indefinitely, even from such common names as these.

The salutations of the people seem literal translations of those imported from the Orient, such as I am not aware of among other Europeans. What, for instance, is "Dios guarda Vd." ("God keep you"), said at parting, but the "Allah îhannak" of Morocco, or "se lo passe bien," but "B'is-salámah" ("in peace!"). More might be cited, but to those unacquainted with Arabic they would be of little interest.

Then, again, the singing of the country-folk in southern Spain has little to distinguish it from that indulged in by most Orientals. The same sing-song drawl with numerous variations is noticeable throughout. Once a more civilized tune gets among these people for a few months, its very composer would be unlikely to recognize its prolongations and lazy twists.

The narrow, tortuous streets of the old towns once occupied by the invaders take one back across the straits, and the whole country is covered with spots which, apart from any remains of note, are associated by record or legend with anecdotes from that page of Spanish history. Here it is the "Sigh of the Moor," the spot from which the last Ameer of Andalucia gazed in sorrow on the capital that he had lost; there it is a cave (at Criptana) where the Moors found refuge when their power in Castile was broken; elsewhere are the chains (in Toledo) with which the devotees of Islám chained their Christian captives.

In addition to this, the hills of a great part of Spain are dotted with fortresses of "tabia" (rammed earth concrete) precisely such as are occupied still by the country kaïds of Morocco; and by the wayside are traces of the skill exercised in bringing water underground from the hills beyond Marrákesh. How many church towers in Spain were built for the call of the muédhdhin, and how many houses had their foundations laid for hareems! In the south especially such are conspicuous from their design. To crown all stand the palaces and mosques of Córdova, Sevílle, and Granáda, not to mention minor specimens.

When we talk of the Moors in Spain, we often forget how nearly we were enabled to speak also of the Moors in France. Their brave attempts to pass that natural barrier, the Pyrenees, find a suitable monument in the perpetual independence of the wee republic of Andorra, whose inhabitants so successfully stemmed the tide of invasion. The story of Charles Martel, too, the "Hammer" who broke the Muslim power in that direction, is one of the most important in the history of Europe. What if the people who were already levying taxes in the districts of Narbonne and Nîmes had found as easy a victory over the vineyards of southern France, as they had over those of Spain? Where would they have stopped? Would they ever have been driven out, or would St. Paul's have been a second Kûtûbîya, and Westminster a Karûeeïn? God knows!

II. CÓRDOVA

The earliest notable monument of Moorish dominion in Andalucia still existing is the famous mosque of Córdova, now deformed into a cathedral. Its erection occupied the period from 786 to 796 of the Christian era, and it is said that it stands on the site of a Gothic church erected on the ruins of a still earlier temple dedicated to Janus. Portions, however, have been added since that date, as inscriptions on the walls record, and the European additions date from 1521, when, notwithstanding the protests of the people of Córdova, the bishops obtained permission from Charles V. to rear the present quasi-Gothic structure in its central court. The disgust and anger which the lover of Moorish architecture--or art of any sort--feels for the name of "_Carlos quinto_," as at point after point hideous additions to the Moorish remains are ascribed to that conceited monarch, are somewhat tempered for once by the record that even he repented when he saw the result of his permission in this instance. "You have built here," he said, "what you might have built anywhere, and in doing so you have spoiled what was unique in the world!" In each of the three great centres of Moorish rule, Sevílle, Granáda and Córdova, the same hand is responsible for outrageous modern erections in the midst of hoary monuments of eastern art, carefully inscribed with their author's name, as "Cæsar the Emperor, Charles the Fifth."

The Córdova Mosque, antedated only by those of Old Cairo and Kaïrwán, is a forest of marble pillars, with a fine court to the west, surrounded by an arcade, and planted with orange trees and palms, interspersed with fountains. Nothing in Morocco can compare with it save the Karûeeïn mosque at Fez, built a century later, but that building is too low, and the pillars are for the most part mere brick erections, too short to afford the elegance which here delights. This is grand in its simplicity; nineteen aisles of slightly tapering columns of beautiful marbles, jasper or porphyry, about nine feet in height, supporting long vistas of flying horse-shoe arches, of which the stones are now coloured alternately yellow and red, though probably intended to be all pure white. Other still more elegant scolloped arches, exquisitely decorated by carving the plaster, spring between alternate pillars, and from arch to arch, presumably more modern work.

The aisles are rather over twenty feet in width, and the thirty-three cross vaultings about half as much, while the height of the roof is from thirty to forty feet. In all, the pillars number about 500, though frequently stated to total 850 out of an original 1419, but it is difficult to say where all these can be, since the sum of 33 by 19 is only 627, and a deduction has to be made for the central court, in which stands the church or choir. Since these notes were first published, in 1890, I have seen it disputed between modern impressionist writers which of them first described the wonderful scene as a palm grove, a comparison of which I had never heard when I wrote, but the wonder to me would be if any one could attempt to picture the scene without making use of it.

Who but a nation of nomads, accustomed to obey the call to prayer beneath the waving branches of African and Arabian palm-groves, would have dreamed of raising such a House of God? Unless for the purpose of supporting a wide and solid roof, or of dividing the centre into the form of a cross, what other ecclesiastical architects would have conceived the idea of filling a place of worship with pillars or columns? No one who has walked in a palm-grove can fail to be struck by the resemblance to it of this remarkable mosque. The very tufted heads with their out-curving leaves are here reproduced in the interlacing arches, and with the light originally admitted by the central court and the great doors, the present somewhat gloomy area would have been bright and pleasant as a real grove, with its bubbling fountains, and the soothing sound of trickling streams. I take the present skylights to be of modern construction, as I never saw such a device in a Moorish building.

Most of the marble columns are the remains of earlier erections, chiefly Roman, like the bridge over the Guadalquivir close by, restored by the builder of the mosque. Some, indeed, came from Constantinople, and others were brought from the south of France. They are neither uniform in height nor girth--some having been pieced at the bottom, and others partly buried;--so also with the capitals, certain of which are evidently from the same source as the pillars, while the remainder are but rude imitations, mostly Corinthian in style. The original expenses of the building were furnished by a fifth of the booty taken from the Spaniards, with the subsidies raised in Catalonia and Narbonne. The Moors supplied voluntary, and European captives forced labour.

On Fridays, when the Faithful met in thousands for the noon-day prayer, what a sight and what a melody! The deep, rich tones of the organ may add impressiveness to a service of worship, but there is nothing in the world so grand, so awe-inspiring as the human voice. When a vast body of males repeats the formulæ of praise, together, but just slightly out of time, the effect once heard is never forgotten. I have heard it often, and as I walk these aisles I hear it ringing in my ears, and can picture to myself a close-packed row of white-robed figures between each pillar, and rows from end to end between, all standing, stooping, or forehead on earth, as they follow the motions of the leader before them. A grand sight it is, whatever may be one's opinion of their religion. In the manner they sit on the matted floors of their mosques there would be room here for thirteen thousand without using the Orange Court, and there is little doubt that on days when the Court attended it used to be filled to its utmost.

To the south end of the cathedral the floor of two wide aisles is raised on arches, exactly opposite the niche which marks the direction of Mekka, and the space above is more richly decorated than any other portion of the edifice except the niche itself. This doubtless formed the spot reserved for the Ameer and his Court, screened off on three sides to prevent the curiosity of the worshippers overcoming their devotion, as is still arranged in the mosques which the Sultan of Morocco attends in his capitals. Until a few years ago this rich work in arabesque and tiles was hidden by plaster.