'Indeed I would,' was the reply, 'but they would know me first.'

"'And you are really circ.u.mcised? We'll see!' was their next exclamation. Just then a caravan appeared, wending its way across the plain, and the travellers hailed it. As he looked up at the shout, he saw Mulai Abd el Kader still sitting opposite him at the chess-board, reminding him that it was his move. He had been recounting his experiences for the last half century to Mulai Abd el Kader himself, and to the wise ones of both creeds who surrounded them!

"Indeed it was too true, and he had to acknowledge that the events of a life-time had been crowded into a period undefinably minute, by the G.o.d-sent power of my lord Slave-of-the-Able [Mulai Abd el Kader].

"Now, where is the good man and true who reveres the name of this holy one? Who will say a prayer to Mulai Abd el Kader?" Here the narrator extends his palms as before, and all follow him in the motion of drawing them down his face. "In the name of the Pitying and Pitiful!

Now another!" The performance is repeated.

"Who is willing to yield himself wholly and entirely to Mulai Abd el Kader? Who will dedicate himself from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head? Another prayer!" Another repet.i.tion of the performance.

"Now let those devoted men earn the effectual prayers of that holy one by offering their silver in his name. Nothing less than a peseta[15]

will do. That's right," as one of the bystanders throws down the coin specified.

[15: About eightpence, a labourer's daily wage in Tangier.]

"Now let us implore the blessing of G.o.d and Mulai Abd el Kader on the head of this liberal Believer." The palm performance is once more gone through. The earnestness with which he does it this time induces more to follow suit, and blessings on them also are besought in the same fashion.

"Now, my friends, which among you will do business with the palms of all these faithful ones? Pay a peseta and buy the prayers of them all.

Now then, deal them out, and purchase happiness."

So the appeal goes wearisomely on. As no more pesetas are seen to be forthcoming, a shift is made with reals--nominally 2-1/2_d._ pieces--the story-teller asking those who cannot afford more to make up first one dollar and then another, turning navely to his a.s.sistant to ask if they haven't obtained enough yet, as though it were all for them. As they reply that more is needed, he redoubles his appeals and prayers, threading his way in and out among the crowd, making direct for each well-dressed individual with a confidence which renders flight or refusal a shame. Meanwhile the "orchestra" has struck up, and only pauses when the "professor" returns to the centre of the circle to call on all present to unite in prayers for the givers.

A few coppers which have been tossed to his feet are distributed scornfully amongst half a dozen beggars, in various stages of filthy wretchedness and deformity, who have collected on the ground at one side.

Here a water-carrier makes his appearance, with his goat-skin "bottle"

and tinkling bell--a swarthy Soudanese in most tattered garb. The players and many listeners having been duly refreshed for the veriest trifle, the performance continues. A prayer is even said for the solitary European among the crowd, on his being successfully solicited for his quota, and another for his father at the request of some of the crowd, who style him the "Friend of the Moors."

At last a resort is made to coppers, and when the story-teller condescendingly consents to receive even such trifles in return for prayers, from those who cannot afford more, quite a pattering shower falls at his feet, which is supplemented by a further hand-to-hand collection. In all, between four and five dollars must have been received--not a bad remuneration for an hour's work! Already the ring has been thinning; now there is a general uprising, and in a few moments the scene is completely changed, the entertainer lost among the entertained, for the sun has disappeared below yon hill, and in a few moments night will fall.

XVIII

SNAKE-CHARMING

"Whom a snake has bitten starts from a rope."

_Moorish Proverb._

Descriptions of this art remembered in a book for boys read years before had prepared me for the most wonderful scenes, and when I first watched the performance with snakes which delights the Moors I was disappointed. Yet often as I might look on, there was nothing else to see, save in the faces and gestures of the crowd, who with child-like simplicity followed every step as though for the first time. These have for me a never-ending fascination. Thus it is that the familiar sounds of rapid and spasmodic beating on a tambourine, which tell that the charmer is collecting an audience, still prove an irresistible attraction for me as well. The ring in which I find myself is just a reproduction of that surrounding the story-teller of yester-e'en, but where his musicians sat there is a wilder group, more striking still in their appearance.

This time, also, the instruments are of another cla.s.s, two or three of the plainest sheep-skin tambourines with two gut strings across the centre under the parchment, which gives them a peculiar tw.a.n.ging sound; and a couple of reeds, mere canes pierced with holes, each provided with a mouthpiece made of half an inch of flattened reed.

Nothing is needed to add to the discord as all three are vigorously plied with cheek and palm.

The princ.i.p.al actor has an appearance of studied weirdness as he gesticulates wildly and calls on G.o.d to protect him against the venom of his pets. Contrary to the general custom of the country, he has let his black hair grow till it streams over his shoulders in matted locks. His garb is of the simplest, a dirty white shirt over drawers of similar hue completing his outfit.

Selecting a convenient stone as a seat, notebook in hand, I make up my mind to see the thing through. The "music" having continued five or ten minutes with the desired result of attracting a circle of pa.s.sers-by, the actual performance is now to commence. On the ground in the centre lies a spare tambourine, and on one side are the two cloth-covered bottle-shaped baskets containing the snakes.

The chief charmer now advances, commencing to step round the ring with occasional beats on his tambourine, rolling his eyes and looking demented. Presently, having reached a climax of rapid beating and pacing, he suddenly stops in the centre with an extra "bang!"

"Now, every man who believes in our lord Mohammed ben Asa,[16] say with me a Fatihah."

[16: For the history of this man and his snake-charming followers see "The Moors," p. 331.]

Each of the onlookers extending his palms side by side before his face, they repeat the prayer in a sing-song voice, and as it concludes with a loud "Ameen," the charmer gives an agonized cry, as though deeply wrought upon. "Ah Rijal el Blad" ("Oh Saints of the Town!"), he shouts, as he recommences his tambourining, this time even with increased vigour, beating the ground with his feet, and working his body up and down in a most extraordinary manner. The two others are also playing, and the noise is deafening. The chief figure appears to be raving mad; his starting eyes, his lithe and supple figure, and his streaming hair, give him the air of one possessed. His face is a study, a combination of fierceness and madness, yet of good-nature.

At last he sinks down exhausted, but after a moment rises and advances to the centre of the circle, picking up a tambourine.

"Now, Sidi Asa"--turning to one of the musicians, whom he motions to cease their din--"what do you think happens to the man who puts a coin in there? Why, the holy saint, our lord Mohammed ben Asa, puts a ring round him like that," drawing a ring round a stone on the ground. "Is it not so?"

"It is, Ameen," from Sidi Asa.

"And what happens to him in the day time?"

"He is in the hands of G.o.d, and his people too."

"And in the night time?"

"He is in the hands of G.o.d, and his people too."

"And when at home?"

"He is in the hands of G.o.d, and his people too."

"And when abroad?"

"He is in the hands of G.o.d, and his people too."

At this a copper coin is thrown into the ring, and the charmer replies, "Now he who is master of sea and land, my lord Abd el Kader el Jilani,[17] bless the giver of that coin! Now, for the love of G.o.d and of His blessed prophet, I offer a prayer for that generous one." Here the operation of pa.s.sing their hands down their faces is performed by all.

[17: The surname of the Baghdad saint.]

"Now, there's another,"--as a coin falls--"and from a child, too! G.o.d bless thee now, my son. May my lord Ben Asa, my lord Abd es-Slam, and my lord Abd el Kader, protect and keep thee!"

Then, as more coppers fall, similar blessings are invoked upon the donors, interspersed with catechising of the musicians with a view to making known the advantages to be reaped by giving something. At last, as nothing more seems to be forthcoming, the performance proper is proceeded with, and the charmer commences to dance on one leg, to a terrible din from the tambourines. Then he pauses, and summons a little boy from the audience, seating him in the midst, adjuring him to behave himself, to do as he is bid, and to have faith in "our lord Ben Asa." Then, seating himself behind the boy, he places his lips against his skull, and blows repeatedly, coming round to the front to look at the lad, to see if he is sufficiently affected, and returning to puff again. Finally he bites off a piece of the boy's cloak, and chews it. Now he wets his finger in his mouth, and after putting it into the dust makes lines across his legs and arms, all the time calling on his patron saint; next holding the piece of cloth in his hands and walking round the ring for all to see it.

"Come hither," he says to a bystander; "search my mouth and see if there be anything there."

The search is conducted as a farmer would examine a horse's mouth, with the result that it is declared empty.

"Now I call on the prophet to witness that there is no deception," as he once more restores the piece of cloth to his mouth, and pokes his fingers into his neck, drawing them now up his face.

"Enough!"

The voices of the musicians, who have for the latter part of the time been giving forth a drawling chorus, cease, but the din of the tambourines continues, while the performer dances wildly, till he stops before the lad on the ground, and takes from his mouth first one date and then another, which the lad is told to eat, and does so, the on-lookers fully convinced that they were transformed from the rag.

Now it is the turn of one of the musicians to come forward, his place being taken by the retiring performer, after he has made another collection in the manner already described.