PREFACE.

This little Tale, which the Author has given permission to be published, was written more than five-and-twenty years ago, after a residence of six years in Marocco. The story is founded on tragical facts, which occurred at the time, and is intended to illustrate the character of the people of West Barbary, as well as the state of oppression under which the Jews of that country suffered, but which of late years the Author understands has been greatly ameliorated, owing to the humane exertions of Sir Moses Montefiore, and the remonstrances of the British Government.

April, 1867.

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CONTENTS.

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EXPLANATIONS OF ARABIC TERMS USED.

[1]

CHAPTER I. THE CONSPIRACY.

ur scene is in Marocco, and the reader will, I trust, pardon details of dress and scenery which may appear tedious, but are necessary in the delineation of the manners and customs of a people who, though so close at our doors, are so little known as the Moors, Jews, and Arabs of West Barbary.

The town of Marocco lies at the foot of the Atlas, which rises in grand, imposing masses to the eastward, piercing the sky with its snowy peaks. Around the town are extensive groves of date-palms, plantations of olives, gardens and orchards abounding with apricots, pomegranates, grapes, oranges, quinces, and jujubes, as well as flowers; which latter, however, are never cultivated with any care and grow almost wild. Beyond, extend the plains, varied by evergreen woods and tracts of cultivation, nearly to the sea-coast. These plains are barren during the greater part of the year, but after the periodical rains of spring, are[2] carpeted with grass and wild flowers; and afford pasture to herds of gazelles, which at that season forsake the vicinity of the rivers and bound joyously over their free expanse.

The Jews, whom this tale principally concerns, live among the fanatic Moors in a state of most abject degradation. They are compelled to wear a distinguishing dress with the indispensable badge of a black cap and shoes; they must take off their shoes and walk barefoot in passing before mosques, official residences, gates of towns, and in presence of any persons in authority; the wealthiest Jews may be loaded with abuse, and even struck by the lowest Moors without daring to retaliate or raise their hand in self-defence, the penalty for striking a Moslem being amputation of the hand. On the slightest pretext they are thrown into prison for the sake of their wealth, and then tortured to extort a heavy ransom for their deliverance. But their greatest danger arises from the terms of the Mohammedan law; in accordance with which if two witnesses swear that a Jew has repeated the words of their confession of faith, "I believe there is but one God, and Mohammed is the prophet of God," his denial is worthless, as the evidence of Jews is not admitted against

Moors: he is at once invested with a Moorish dress and forced to conform to Moslem rites, under peril, in case of refusal or recantation, of being burnt alive.

The gardens before mentioned are the resort of the towns-people, who come out to enjoy the coolness of[3] evening after the heat and dust of the streets. In one of these a natural arbour was formed by several grape-vines, which after climbing up the shafts of the date-trees for fifteen or twenty feet had lost their hold, and with interlaced boughs and tendrils, sloped back in a curtain of foliage supported by thick shrubs of jujube and arbutus, gemmed with waxen berries of yellow and crimson; from the festoons above hung a profusion of half-ripe, blushing grapes. The grassy floor of this bower lay in deep cool shade. Two Moors had selected this inviting spot to spread their carpet. In front of them, where the trees had been cleared away to plant the ground with melons and Indian corn, opened an extensive view of the snow-capped Atlas and the city of Marocco; its mud walls hidden by a canopy of white dust and vapour, above which rose the minarets of the mosques, the chief of which, the Juma Kitibea, towered in proud pre-eminence.

These two persons, who are likely to be prominent actors on our scene, showed by their dress and appearance that they were soldiers of the Sultan's army. Over a coat of red cloth they wore a full white shirt with open sleeves, confined round the waist by a red sash, full white trousers to the knee, and on the head a tall red cap with a blue silk tassel; yellow slippers completed their costume, and over all they wore the white hooded burnoose. They carried silver-chased ataghans in their belts; their swords and guns were leaning against the trees; their horses, with saddles of faded red, were picketed among the long grass.

[4]

The elder of the two, Abdslem Ibn Hadj, was a short thick-set mulatto, whose grisly black mustachios and beard gave a fierce expression to a countenance which was otherwise a picture of treachery and cunning. The other was a young man of pale complexion, with a fine cast of features and a noble form; he was originally of an amiable and retiring disposition; but this had been greatly changed by his association with a dissolute soldiery. He was the son of a man of rank; his father had for many years been Kaïd of a large province, and being suspected of having amassed wealth, was, according to the arbitrary custom of the country, thrown into prison, his property confiscated, and his son forced to serve in the capacity of a common soldier. The father did not long survive his disgrace.

This oppression rankled in the heart of Hassan, and nearly overcame every remnant of moral principle in his mind. He saw that honour and religion were only used as a veil for the greatest enormities, and that self was the great idol of prince and beggar; watching every opportunity for revenge, he had become mixed up with Abdslem, whom he had foolishly trusted, in plots against the Sultan who had injured him.

The two friends, having filled their pipes with hashish, threw themselves on the carpet, while a negro boy, who had accompanied them on a mule, produced from his panniers provisions, dried fruits, and some charcoal, with which he made a fire in a hole in the[5] ground to prepare tea,[A] an indispensable beverage in every Moorish party.

[A] The diversity of national beverages is curious. The Moors drink green tea; the Persians, black tea; the Turks, coffee; as the French affect wine, and the English beer.

Abdslem, whose intellects were getting confused with the intoxicating drug he was smoking, began talking,—

"God is great! yes, God is great! oh, wonderful! What blessings He has bestowed on His servants! The infidels covet our country; of course, they have heard how beautiful it is; they can't help it. O the green grass and running water! Ya Mohammed! O the noble horses and the graceful girls! Curse on the infidels! Abdslem Ibn Hadj wears a sword! The banner of the Prophet waves over us! And where are their fathers' houses?"

He lay back emitting a thick cloud from his lips, without observing his companion, who was all the time immersed in a dark reverie, with his eyes fixed on the carpet pattern.

"God be praised!" he continued. "What a splendid view! Look at that mosque! they say its height is not to be measured. And look at God's hills; the true believers in Paradise enjoy not greater—"

Here he stopped short, perceiving that he was talking for his own amusement.

"How now, Hassan! do you come out here to shut your eyes, or to enjoy God's blessings? Better have stayed in your fondak smothered with dust and fleas.[6] I'll lay my life your head is still running on that infidel's daughter, (may her days be shortened!); you have no more heart than a Christian. O child! if the men got wind of it, you would be the laugh of the whole Alfa!"

He checked himself as he saw the other's darkening brow, which showed him he was going too far with one who, although his equal in station, was his superior by birth.

"Well, don't be offended, you know I am your friend, although I am fond of talking. Try this tea; the live water of the infidels I prefer, but that is not easily got."

"May your father's house be desolate!" said Hassan surlily, putting aside the offered refreshment. "Have I not curses enough on my head, without that of your rattling, insulting tongue superadded; if you have no better entertainment to offer, hold that in the devil's name?"

"Ya Allah! may the devil be accursed! This is all I get for my good will. The wise has said, 'He who loses his temper may drink the sea.' I am silent!" and calling the boy to replenish the tea-pot, he continued drinking cup after cup till he had exhausted the supply, while his companion sat evolving wreaths of smoke and twisting long grass into cords.

"And now," said Abdslem, turning suddenly round, "shall I prove to you that I am your friend?"

Surprised by this sudden address Hassan looked[7] up with an expression of hope on his face; which, however, quickly changed to a glance of suspicion.

"Why, Abdslem, if words could do it, you can; but I have long learnt the value of friendship, which is bought and sold like market stuff, but ever fails in time of need,—unless interested."

"Very good," said Abdslem; "so it is; but hear me first, and then judge. You love the Jewess! The Jews were created for slaves to the Moslems! But you can't buy her; the infidels won't sell their children with all their love of money; and she won't turn Moslem; so you can't marry her, it is against the Koran. She is pretty; it is a wonder how God can give Jews such beautiful daughters!"

"May your father be burnt! Why do you torment me thus?" said Hassan, springing up.

"Wait and hear me," said Abdslem; "I have a plan in which I will the more readily assist as it is to save a soul from Djehennem. Now mark! try your luck once more, and if she repulse you, we will go and swear that she has pronounced the confession of faith of Islam. The fear of death will prevent her from retracting; and you will then possess the object of your wishes at the trifling expense of an oath. There, have I proved I am your friend? God is great!"

Hassan, whose countenance had brightened when expecting to hear a way of obtaining the object of his wishes, although accustomed to wickedness, when he thus suddenly heard the proposal, revolted at its enormity.

[8]

"Friend!" echoed he. "Fiend, say rather! I thought I had fallen low enough; but I see there are deeper depths of villany; and you, my friend—" he continued, with a bitter sneer, "would still plunge me downward, until you land me in the lowest pit of hell; and there you would leave me,—if you may."

Abdslem was rather staggered at the manner in which his proposition had been received.

"Wonderful," said he; "I thought to have served you, and these are my thanks! Well, I will trouble you no longer with my friendship, or my company. Find another butt for your spleen; I have borne with you thus long for your father's sake. Here, bring my horse, you son of fourteen generations of black fathers," he called to the slave boy.

Hassan was touched.

"Stay!" said he, seizing his hand, as he rose to depart, "forgive me,—my misfortunes gall me; I speak at random; leave me not now when I so much need your assistance."

"I do not bear enmity," said Abdslem; "I only thought of gratifying your wishes, but if you will not take what may be had for such small pains, let us think no more of the infidel. I would rather see all the Jews in Marocco burnt in their quarter than see you down-hearted."

"I have trusted you, O my brother," said Hassan, "with this secret grief; but can we not devise some other means?" For he was unwilling to give up all hope.

[9]

"I see none," said Abdslem. "Open violence would cost you your head; and fraud would bring you under the Sultan's hand, and he would not spare your father's son. What worse are the means that I propose than the end you aim at? And then the merit of bringing a Kafir to the true faith!"

"True! there is some reason in that," said Hassan, whose scruples were fast fading away before his passion, which blinded his better judgment; and what had at first revolted him by its criminal deformity, softened down by familiarity and was stripped of its repulsiveness.

"True, she will thank me hereafter for saving her from infidelity."

"God be praised!" said Abdslem; "and you will laugh over it some day, when your 'pearl' is called Merjana, wife of Hassan; as a praiseworthy stratagem."

They now mounted their horses which were unwillingly disturbed from their unusual feast on the leafy drapery that surrounded them; and leaving the boy to collect their canteen, they rode slowly towards the town; and before reaching it the artful suggestions of Abdslem had completed the victory over his companion's scruples; and the next morning was fixed upon for putting their plot in execution. As they entered the gate called Bab Er Rahamna, the eastern sun threw their shadows far up the street, a symbol of the darker shadow that their coming cast upon their victim.

[10]

CHAPTER II. THE ACCUSERS.

he Jews living in the towns of Marocco occupy a walled quarter, separated by gates from the rest of the town; physically they are a fine race, many of them are very wealthy, and some of the best families show high breeding, but the cringing and servile habits, to which they are inured from infancy by oppression, have impressed their demeanour and physiognomy with timidity and cunning, and effaced in a great measure the higher and nobler feelings from their minds. There are partial exceptions to this, as in the case of some of their priests and men engaged in European trade, who are brought less into contact with their masters, and feel themselves under more protection. The separate quarter, although affording security in ordinary times, seems to enhance the danger to its inhabitants in time of trouble or insurrection, for the moment that the Sultan's authority is relaxed or in danger, the mob and the soldiery break loose; urged on by fanaticism and cupidity, the cry is, "To the Jews' quarter!" and the place is sacked, as by a foreign

enemy. It is wonderful that men who can afford it,[11] will submit to live with their families in this constant state of oppression and terror; but such is the force of habit and the love of gain,—for I can hardly place in the category the love of country,—that very few, or none, do leave it. It is true that the law does not permit them to leave the country, but they might easily escape or evade it.

The women, seldom leaving their houses, are less exposed to the degrading influences which lower the character of the men; their countenance is more open, and their bearing more independent; as a rule, they are good-looking, and their manners and address are graceful and ladylike. Although the prevailing colour of the race is Andalusian, there are not wanting many possessing the clear and brilliant complexion of northern climates, and even blue eyes are not uncommon.

In the Jewish quarter in Marocco, in a small house, distinguished only from those which surrounded it, by its cleanliness of exterior and neatness within, lived a Jewish matron with her only daughter; their appearance and manners showed them to have belonged to a higher station, though now reduced to the necessity of gaining a living by needle-work. The mother was the widow of a priest, who had been esteemed for his unostentatious charity, and who had bequeathed to his daughter little of worldly goods, but instead, a well-grounded faith in the Scriptural promises and a strong love for her ancestral religion. The child's personal beauty as she grew up was looked on by her parents—as it foolishly is by most parents—as a great blessing.[12] How little did they foresee, while doating on her loveliness, that they were fostering serpents that would one day sting her to the soul, and prove her most fatal curse. She was now about eighteen, a vision of grace and beauty. Most descriptions of beauty have been failures, and I will not add another to them by

attempting it, but to see Azora, after her morning occupation of reading the prophets, her perfect cheek resting on her perfect hand, her large dark eyes cast upward, her lovely parted lips partially revealing their translucent gems, while a glow of enthusiasm lighted up her beautiful features; the only epithet by which to describe her beauty is "heavenly." Her dress was an embroidered spencer of pink damask, over a shirt of striped muslin, whose ample sleeves nearly reached the ground, and a frock of dark green cloth edged with gold lace. A crimson Algerian scarf encircled her waist, and silver anklets and bracelets attracted admiration to the limbs they could not adorn. A light green silk handkerchief was bound round her forehead, the ends hanging loose behind, and confined her hair, which fell down her back in long broad plaits. Her mother's dress was of a similar description, but of different materials; and, instead of her hair, which their customs will not allow married women to show, she wore the flat brush of black ostrich feathers fastened on each side of the face, under

the head-dress. She was engaged in arranging the cushions of the divan and their few articles of household equipment, preparatory to their morning meal,[13] when Azora tripped joyously in with several garments she was in course of embroidering on her arm, and kissed her.

"My blessing on you, my rose of Paradise," said Rachel.

"May you be blessed, O my mother!" returned Azora; "and see how much work I have done. Is it not well done?" and her merry laugh rang out musical, as she nestled down by her mother.

"Yes," said her mother, "we shall soon have earned enough for a dowry worthy of your family, though your beauty is dowry for a queen!"

Suddenly the girl stood up in an attitude of terror; her eyes fixed, and her hand pressed to her forehead.

"What is it, my child?" cried Rachel, "you frighten me; are you ill?"

"O my mother," said she, mournfully, "I had forgotten; I know not what brought back to my mind horrible dreams, which last night visited me, and which troubled me as the whisperings of evil spirits."

"You read too much, my child, and spoil your sleep; but let not dreams trouble you, mere fanciful flights of the imagination while reason sleeps."

"Yet it is written," she replied, "'In dreams, in visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon man, the Lord showeth His will, and sendeth warnings to His servants.'"

"May the evil be averted!" said her mother; "but cheer up, my child, and let us put our trust[14] in Him, the Holy One, who holds all under His hand."

It was some time before Azora could shake off the indefinite dread of impending evil which oppressed her; but she gradually recovered her usual cheerfulness, and, after their frugal repast, they sat down to their work.

In the course of the forenoon, a knock at the door was answered with some hesitation by Rachel, who gave admittance to our two acquaintances of yesterday. With a lordly air of patronage they sat down, and reclined on the cushions at the end of the room.

"Peace," said Abdslem; "peace to all true believers. Well, daughter, is my caftan finished? I have waited for it long. To-morrow there is a review and powder-burning. I must have it."

"I trust it will be finished this evening," said Rachel; while Azora, feeling their eyes fixed upon her, bent down over her work; "and I hope my lord will be pleased with it."

"No doubt about that," said Abdslem: "and I hope you will be as pleased with your pay!" he added sarcastically, with a look at Hassan; "but I shall want more braiding in front; and you have not silk enough. Here, Rachel," said he, in a commanding tone, "take this dollar, and go to that enemy of God, Benjamin, and buy enough to complete it; and hear! don't let him cheat you!"