IN THE CITY OF THE BLACK TYRANT
WHILE we chatted over this absorbing question, our car ran through a rich agricultural country with unbroken olive-orchards, cultivated fields, vineyards and fruit-trees flanking the road. There was only one other district that I had up to this time seen with which I could compare this countryside, and that was Bel Abbes in western Algeria. I had read that the ancient Berber tribe of the Meknassa had, for some unrecorded reason, separated into two parts, one locating east of Fez and founding the town of Tasa, while the other trekked west of the capital and laid the foundations of Meknassa ez-Zitun, which is "Meknes among the olives." It would be difficult to find a more appropriate name for this place, for, as it thrust itself into the landscape at a distance of six miles, it gave the impression of being located on a mountain with the gently sloping sides entirely covered by a dark forest of olive-trees. At this distance Meknes presented quite a different picture from the other Moroccan towns we had seen, in as much as these were pressed and crowded into square walls, while Meknes stretched out in an extended line along the horizon and gave us, as we gazed upon it at this distance, the impression of a gigantic crenelated wall with its seven minarets standing out like watch-towers against the orange-red background of the evening sky.
Meknes is really the center of a plateau, some fifteen hundred feet above the level of the sea, and is partially surrounded by the northern range of the Middle Atlas and by the complementing ranges of Nador, Zerhun and Tselfat, with the rivers Fekrana and Rdom crossing the plateau in deep ravines. It was on the left bank of the first of these that the early Meknassa leaders traced the outlines of the town, but it was the bloody tyrant, Mulay Ismail, who gave to it its present appearance.
On the day of our arrival we were invited to dine with the civil administrator and virtual controller of French policies in the whole of the Sultan's possessions. Monsieur Maurice Halmagrand. During this and many other delightful evenings that we spent with Monsieur and Madame Halmagrand we met other members of the French administrative staff and gathered much valuable information that greatly assisted me in my later observations and studies, as our host was not only scrupulously conscientious in the performance of his official duties but was also a close and highly trained student of the country and the people.
In our many visits to all parts of the town under the able guidance of a Polish member of the Foreign Legion we found little in its buildings and general life to distinguish it from Fez and other Moroccan cities, until our long-resident cicerone pointed out to us that Meknes possesses a unique feature in the character of its population by reason of the fact that it is located at the intersection of two great routes, the one from Fez to the Atlantic and the other from the heart of the Middle Atlas to the ranges of the Rif. This latter is a strategic and commercial route, along which many tribes have flowed northward in search of more congenial surroundings and an easier life.
"Look at this crowd—one that you will never find in other towns except, perhaps, on pilgrimage days or at the feast of Bairam. It counts representatives from almost every tribe living on the Beni Mtir plain or in the mountains near it. I shall point out to you men from the tribes of Gerwan, Zaian, Mjat, Beni Mgild and even those from the neighborhood of Ujda."
It was also here at Meknes at the end of the seventeenth century that the unusual religious teacher, Ben Aïssa, or "the son of Jesus," promulgated a new doctrine, chiefly among the poor and oppressed. He worked among the lowest elements of the population and became so powerful that men defied even the authority of the bloody sultan when sure of his support. He united and organized Berbers and slaves, forming a great confraternity, somewhat wild in its traditions but bound together by the oath of absolute obedience to the supreme head of the organization. He was finally acknowledged as a saint by Sultan Mulay Ismail, and his tomb was erected in the cemetery opposite the gate, Bab Jdid, to become the object of worship and pilgrimage which has brought many of his followers to the city among the olives.
His Sultan master, Mulay Ismail, the founder of the Alawite dynasty, which still rules in Morocco, was no ordinary man. Though he was a tyrant, bloody, cruel and admittedly courageous, and a despot such as the Maghreb Empire had not previously known, one must give him the credit for having been a keen psychologist and the first ruler to understand thoroughly the soul of the people over whom he was set to reign.
The Berbers in their various tribes have become a conglomerate of the characteristics of all the nations which have in turn conquered and exploited them. Several authorities, in summing up their traits, point out that continued subjugation and calamities have operated to form an ethnic and moral type that is far from ideal. In general they are an anarchistic, quarrelsome people, unable to govern themselves, vindictive and traitorous. Musa, the Saracenic viceroy of Egypt who conquered Spain in 711 to 713, thus characterized the Berbers to the caliph on his return to Stamboul:
"They are the most treacherous men in the whole world. There is nothing sacred for them in their promises or their given word."
When Mulay Ismail, having formed the intention of uniting and organizing the empire, sought some means which would serve to nullify or diminish the anarchism of the Berbers, he found Ben Aïssa ready at hand as a tool to work upon and shape the sentiments of the most turbulent layers of the proletariat. It seems clear to me that a silent but definite understanding existed between the prophet and the tyrant. Finding Meknes a great book, filled with a mixture of true and false tales about the bloody sultan and his prophet, I made a careful historical and psychological analysis of these two totally different personalities, as I wanted to know with whom I had to deal in this Berber capital.
The character of Ismail is almost self-evident, when one visits the works of his hand. It was in 1673 that he ascended the throne of Maghreb and moved his capital from Fez to Meknes, which attracted him not only because of its strategic position, its olive-groves, pure air and "healthy water," but also because of his own desire to quit Fez with its network of intrigue in favor of the supplanted Merinides, who had brought such glory to the city of Idris II. The shadow of Mulay Ismail is to be met everywhere in Meknes the moment one enters the gate of Bab Mansur el-Aleuj and is surrounded by the high, massive walls of lime and beaten earth. This is not a single enceinte but an apparently never-ending series of walls, surrounding old palaces, mosques, pavilions, harems and gardens. The sweat and blood of almost sixty thousand Christian prisoners and slaves and of many tens of thousands of other workers, driven in here from the different tribes to help execute the plans of the Sultan, were the cement which consolidated the work of Mulay Ismail and at the same time were the venom which was to destroy it.
Mulay Ismail himself personally superintended the work of construction and was everywhere followed by a giant from the Sudan, who carried a sword, a rifle, a poignard and a great whip. The smallest fault or mistake, or even sometimes just a caprice of Ismail, blotted out the life of a worker or brought down upon his body the blows of the stinging lash. The Christian slaves who were ransomed, the monks and the foreign ambassadors, such as Cavelier, Moutte, Jourdan and Stewart, have left many records in their memoirs, testifying to the unimaginable cruelties of this black sultan with the white spot on his cheek and the flowing, gray beard. He was an extraordinary and somewhat terrible man with strong chameleon-like characteristics, knowing not only how to give the impression of being magnificent, liberal, considerate and even at times ashamed when in reality he was revengeful, miserly, severe, relentless and madly bold, but even changing the color of his face, which in moments of happiness became almost white and showed blue eyes, in contrast to which in moments of passion it was nearly black and was set with bloodshot eyes.
Some tribes even preserve in their proverbs and common sayings the memory of these particular characteristics of the terrible master, as for instance:
"Yesterday the sky was as bright as the face of Sidi Mulay Ismail but today it has been covered by a cloud as dark as the face of the sultan when anger flamed in his heart and drove the blood to his eyes."
Such was the man who left behind him this large quarter of the city with its surrounding belts of innumerable walls, where I wandered through the labyrinth of passages around his palaces, examined his hundreds of buildings, jostling one another in disorder, and strolled along the seemingly endless galleries where the miserly ruler stored the tribute of grain, dates, figs and fruit that was brought him by the conquered tribes and where he stabled his two thousand or more of mules and donkeys.
This man of contradictions right up to the time of his old age sprang lightly into the saddle, with one stroke of his sword cut off the heads of enemies and slaves, had five hundred sons, ate ever alone, seated on a sheepskin, drank water only, led a more severe life than that of most of the learned ulema, went barefoot and without a turban, taught his people the laws of Allah and of the Prophet and ruined Berbers and Jews whom he compelled not only to pay tire ordinary taxes but to give of their wealth to maintain the whole court and to provide funds for the construction work which he never permitted to be interrupted. However heavy may have been his hand, he succeeded in uniting all the tribes from the Atlas and the Atlantic to Tlemsen and Biskra and established peace, law and security throughout the whole of Maghreb. It was only he himself and his black praetorian guard that offered the exception to this rule of security and law, for he violated every established right and statute by his continual spoliation and persecution of the tribes and families suspected of treachery or discontent. One of his well-known sayings seems strikingly characteristic:
"My state is a bag filled with rats. If I were to cease shaking the bag, the rats would gnaw holes and jump out of it."
With this as his code Ismail surrounded himself with Arab tribes, maintaining an army of Negroes and kept his state in continual ferment and movement through the instrumentality of wars, the transplanting of tribes from one locality to another, punitive expeditions and the construction of buildings, walls and gardens, only to destroy them and begin the work anew.
It is recorded that twice only did this ruler of such severity toward himself and toward others give utterance to words of praise. The first was on the occasion of showing to a foreigner the splendid pavilion under which his sarcophagus was ultimately to be suspended on chains, when he spoke warmly of the work of his architect-builder; and the second when he despatched his grand vizier, Ben Aisha, to the magnificent Louis XIV to ask the hand of his daughter, the beautiful Princess Conti, in marriage. It may be that the royal child of France did not care to accept the hand of a ruler who had, according to the authority of Busnot, the monk, a harem of five hundred wives. Incidentally, the principal and most powerful figure among all these royal consorts was Lalla Aisha, a dominating Negro woman who had been a former slave of Sultan Er-Rashid. A descendant of one of the collateral branches of the family of Mulay Ismail, whom I met while wandering through the ruins of the sultan's palaces, told me that this warlike and cruel giantess protected the interests of the blacks and induced her royal husband to gather about him the Negro guard, through which she later dominated him by her ability to incite the soldiers to revolt, if she so willed. The second in the favor of the ruler was Lalla Aziza, an English-woman who had been made a slave, had accepted Islam and had achieved a great influence in Maghreb. The dream of each suffering and persecuted individual, even of the condemned, was to be able to meet Lalla Aziza when she came to the Medina, when the unfortunate one would fall upon his face to beg her intercession for him with the sultan.
During one of my subsequent excursions Into the palace quarter of the Medina I was hailed by some women in rags, sitting in the shadow of the corner of a wall. Finding them to be fortune-tellers, who for a few centimes would draw back for me the inscrutable curtain of the future, I faced the revelations and watched them throw on the ground some seeds, murmur something, look intently at me and study my hands and fingers. While they were thus occupying themselves, I in turn examined their faces and hands which were tattooed in blue or black with numerous geometric figures and signs. As I waited I sketched some of these designs which appealed to me as very interesting and later, when I studied them, proved doubly so, as I found among them the symbols of the fire-worshipers such as I have seen in Persia, mysterious signs current among Gipsies, others closely resembling the Egyptian hieroglyphs, the Babylonian zodiacal forms, Assyrian characters, letters used on "Stelae Mash-had's" and in Carthaginian and Kittimite inscriptions and finally the Jewish Star of Solomon and the ritual candle. Subsequently I collected in other parts of Africa more specimens of these signs tattooed on the faces of the women and on the hands of men and found that the comparison of them with ancient hieroglyphics yielded most unexpected and interesting results.
A few days later, when I was too weak from a fever which I had contracted through exposure to the sudden chill that comes with the night to accept any offers of hospitality, we were invited through Monsieur and Madame Halmagrand to take tea and later dinner with some local dignitaries, who were friends of theirs. After much protest Zofiette finally consented to accompany them to her first independent appearance among Berbers and Arabs. I leave it to her to tell, through an excerpt from her journal, of her evening's experience.
"Madame Halmagrand paid us a visit today about four o'clock and conveyed to us the invitation to take tea in the house of their friend, Sidi Abia, an Arab millionaire. We went by carriage to a certain point in the Medina and from there scrambled on foot up through narrow, shaded and very dirty streets. To my great astonishment I had just learned from a cultured Arab that here in Morocco it is the fashion to make access to the richest private 'palaces' as difficult as possible. The more splendid the residence, the more twisted, dark and narrow are the streets through which one must approach it—a real labyrinth and then, in some nook, a splendid gate, the work of centuries ago, with its mosaics, carvings and beautiful marble; within it, another labyrinth, this time of corridors, porticoes and open courts; finally a magnificent park and palace full of unimagined luxury. The probable reason for this search for seclusion is the desire to protect their riches and their harems and to guard the traditions inherent in their religious beliefs.
"Just in this fashion, threading our way over stones, through dirt and all sorts of aromas, we finally arrived before the entrance of our friend's palace, where we were awaited by some chouses, who conducted us to the garden and then up a flight of stairs to the terrace. There we were received with great honor by our host, Sidi Abia, a man of some sixty years with a long gray beard and a large hooked nose surmounted by spectacles. Dressed in a white bournous and shod with light yellow babooshes, he came forward with his two sons, the elder one quite ordinary and almost shabby and speaking only Arabic, while the younger was an elegant, well-dressed, good-looking youth of marked intelligence. He spoke excellent French and was at the time studying scientific agriculture. He was evidently the favorite of his father. Such a difference is often to be found among brothers in Morocco and is more than probably due to the custom of plural wives.
"We began our visit by going through the garden and the palace, which are the pride of the wealthy native owners and on which they count for making an impression on foreigners. We were consequently shown through every part of them, including the harem, where we saw many pretty and agreeable women. The younger son had rather advanced ideas, leaning strongly toward the French life and conventions. With some irony he explained to us many of the traditions and customs of his family, which was said to be a very ancient one. One must add that Arabs and Berbers, besides their innumerable Moslem and national traditions, possess customs and morals quite special to each particular family of recognized position, so that the result is a labyrinth of forms in which one can quite easily be lost.
"The palace was beautiful but rather neglected. The large hall that was used only for weddings and holiday receptions gave us the greatest pleasure. Under the beautifully carved ceiling were here and there alcoves with their masses of rugs and silk cushions, while in the center a fountain sang constantly its cadenced song, as it played in its marble basin. Waiting to receive us, the women of the harem were seated on the customary cushions, among them the two wives of the host, the wife of the elder son, two married daughters and, finally, the little ones of the younger generation, all of them dressed like dolls in velvet bodices embroidered in gold and silver, full trousers, muslin turbans, colored sandals and great quantities of jewels. They greeted us very courteously, giving us their hands, which were small, hard and rough and painted with henna. The women said nothing, but only smiled and looked us over very attentively, touching our dresses, hats and shoes and even our shoulders and necks. The children were most attractive, especially the little granddaughters with curls as black as ebony and amber eyes. One of them developed a very evident fancy for me, took hold of my dress and followed me everywhere on her little henna-painted feet.
"After this visit to the harem we returned to the terrace, where Sidi Abia awaited us with tea and sweets. Then another old patriarch came in, who had the head of a prophet and whose shoulder every one in the household kissed with respect. After he had hurled at us in Arabic a quantity of compliments and wishes for our health and felicity, we began sipping our tea with mint, which is very agreeable and refreshing, if only it is not too hot or too sweet. Moreover, it is served in cups without spoons or saucers and must be drawn in through the teeth with loud smackings of the lips, if one would observe the finesse of custom. Cakes with almonds and figs fried in honey were as far as I went into the list of sweets, as the other dainties were too hard, too sweet and too rich for me, so that I could only make believe I was sampling them.
"The view from the terrace was grand and beautiful, particularly because of the brilliant sunset in the mountains. The possessions of Sidi Abia seemed to stretch out as far as one could see, and the old gentleman looked on them with delight, as he sat smoking a very long pipe and inhaling his tea.
"After having taken a grateful leave of our hosts, we searched out our carriage and drove off to a dinner which Madame Halmagrand told me had been arranged in honor of my husband, who had been compelled to remain ingloriously at home to nurse his fever. Again the twisted streets, the odors, dirt and darkness, then a palace breathing luxury, though not so striking as that of Sidi Abia. The drawing-room was not very large and was lighted by means of big kerosene-lamps placed on the floor. At the back of the room I was at first surprised to see an alcove containing two metal bedsteads piled with cushions that reached to the ceiling until I learned that these beds and cushions were never used but were kept there simply to display the wealth of the household. Also there were many mirrors of very ordinary workmanship and some Louis XV chairs—all quite out of keeping with the daintiness and good taste of the Arab interior decorations but quite the fashion and consequently de rigeur for the well-to-do.
"Our host, an old cadi, proved to be very nice, even though all his complimentary remarks had to come to us through a translator. His son, who was very good-looking and who was dressed in a beautiful national Arab costume of ancient times, played the part of host for his father, though he also spoke no French. The other guests were already there—a young French couple and two very intelligent Arab twin brothers from Rabat, who had had a university education and were training for a diplomatic career under Marshal Lyautey. With the conversation flowing easily, I learned much of interest about Arab life an d traditions. When dinner was to be served, we took our places on low cushions and watched the slaves, dressed as penitents in costumes girt with a rope, bring in a low, round table without a cloth and, as the first dish, an immense earthenware bowl full of roast chickens without dressing or garniture of any sort and not carved. As there were no knives and forks, I was quite bewildered and waited to see what my companions in misfortune would do. Madame Halmagrand, laughing at my troubled expression, reached out and pulled off with the thumb and two fingers of the right hand some bits of the breast and fat of the chicken. I followed her lead and then thought to bring my other hand into play to detach a drumstick and second joint, as I am more fond of the dark meat. But I was at once frowned upon by the other two ladies, after which I was informed in a whisper that one may eat only with the thumb and first two fingers of the right hand, which one must hold in the air during the whole dinner and lick well after each dish. Resigned to the exigent 'table manners' of my associates, I joined with them in the quest for dainty morsels and soon became quite adept.
"Then we were served mutton with almonds, saffron and marjoram swimming in gravy. I fished out delectable almonds and went below with pieces of bread to try to raise some bits of meat. Though I basked in the comforting thought that I was becoming a rather skilled fisherman, the ladies disturbed me by laughing at my troubled and anxious expression.
"What seemed very strange to me was that the host sat near by but not at our table, directed the serving of the meal, inspected all dishes before they were put before us and solemnly nodded his head and clapped his hands whenever we had finished a course. Several times, having remarked that I was not eating or, at least, not eating enough to satisfy mine host, he turned to me and asked through the interpreter if the dish did not please me. Again I felt a nudge from my neighbor and heard whispered advice to make believe and not to disappoint the good old cadi In spite of this seeming lapse on my part, we were all very gay and were enjoying ourselves tremendously.
"The third dish was roast mutton, so tender that I easily succeeded in plucking off some enjoyable morsels, while the Arab students made havoc of the rich dish, loudly smacking their lips and drinking a great deal of water, that was served us in immense glasses. Personally I was afraid of the water, as it was of a yellowish, muddy hue and seemed redolent of typhoid.
"Following all this, we were next served kouskous with raisins, hard-boiled eggs and the inevitable mutton. To my joy we were given spoons, though I was surprised to see the Arabs continue to use their fingers, deftly rolling the gruel into small balls that held together long enough to make the journey to their mouths. Then came the dessert—luscious grapes of every shade and nearly as large as plums. At last a gilded basin and ewer were brought with pink soap and a pink-embroidered towel, and all of us in turn washed with infinite pleasure and relief. After the ablutions servants brought frankincense and they sprayed our costumes with rose and violet perfumes, following which tea was served with the everpresent agreeable aroma of mint and accompanied by additional sweets.
"With the tea before us, Madame Halmagrand asked the cadi to join us, whereupon the old man saluted in quite a military fashion, removed his sandals to come to us barefooted as a mark of his deep respect and took his place on the cushions. During the interval between the last course and the serving of tea he had disappeared for a few moments to partake of his own banquet with his sons in a neighboring room. The wives and daughters ate after them and what was left was for the servants.
"At ten o'clock we arose to go and were escorted to the door with many expressions of good-will and felicity. The old cadi was very anxious to meet my husband and exhibited a redoubled interest and respect when he was shown the ruby ring which I was wearing and which had been given him by the Hutuktu of Narabanchi Kuré in Mongolia during his flight from Krasnoyarsk in 1920.
"On my return to the hotel I found my invalid better and demanding food, so I finally yielded and gave him a cup of tea with two soft-boiled eggs and some bread and butter. I was afraid it might be too much for him this after my own dinner in the household of the cadi!"
On the evening of our last day in the capital of the Black Tyrant we sallied out to have a final look at the ruins and the town. The moon was already far up by the time we reached Bab Mansur, and the walls of Mulay Ismail were drawn on the moon-washed background of sky as indented, black silhouettes. We knew that behind them lay ruins and crumbling stone, contrasting sadly with the proud boast of the Black Sultan:
"I erected these walls and palaces. Let others destroy them, if they can."
For two centuries men have been destroying the work of the despot, erecting with the stones, marble and mosaics of his buildings their palaces and temples all over Morocco. But Dar Kbira, Dar el-Makhzen, Bab Mansur and Jama still remain, powerful and terrible reminders of the cruel disregard of one despotic man. By them stands also the sarcophagus of Mohammed Ben Aïssa and near it the tomb of the enigmatical ruler himself, whose spirit seems still to haunt these works of his hand, pondering over some new ferocity or sighing sadly and calling hopelessly for Lalla Aziza, the "beloved white gazelle."