Morocco, Its People and Places

by Edmondo De Amicis

“And why, in your opinion, are there no more demons now, if there were some once?”

“Why, because the world was not always the same as it is now. I might as well ask you why men were once taller, and the days longer than they are now, and why beasts could talk.” And he went off shaking his head with a compassionate air.

Palace Of The Governor Of Mechinez.

On that day, as the Ambassador was dining in the city, Selam and the others did nothing but gallop between the town and the tents, to the great amusement of the artists and myself, because the contrast between the majesty of their aspect and the humility of their office had never struck us before. There, for instance, was Hamed, mounted on a superb black horse, coming out at a gallop from the battlemented gate of Mechinez, and darting off at full speed across the country. His tall turban gleamed in the sun with the whiteness of snow; his large blue mantle floated on the wind like a royal garment; his poniard glittered; the whole of his martial and gracious figure presented the dignity of a prince and the boldness of a warrior. What romantic fancies are excited in the mind by the vision of that handsome Mussulman cavalier flying like a phantom under the walls of a mediæval city! Whither goes he? To carry off the loveliest daughter of the Pashà of Faraone; to defy the valorous Caid of Uazzan, betrothed to the lady of his love; to pour out his griefs into the bosom of the aged saint who has prayed for eighty years on the top of Mount Zerhun, in the sacred zania of Muley-Edris?

Nothing of the sort; he is coming back to camp to get a plate of fried potatoes for the Ambassador.

Toward sunset the two painters and myself, mounted on mules, and escorted by four foot-soldiers of the governor of Mechinez, set out for the city, our guard having put away their muskets, and being armed only with sticks and knotted cords. Before starting, however, we arranged with them, through interpreter Hamed, that whenever we all should clap our hands thrice, in whatever quarter of the city we might be, they were to conduct us at once back to the encampment.

Passing two outside gates, divided by a steep ascent, we found ourselves in the centre of the city. The first impression was one of agreeable surprise. Mechinez, which we had fancied as more melancholy than Fez, was, on the contrary, a gay city, full of verdure, traversed by many winding streets, but broad, and bordered by low houses and garden walls that allowed the tops of the beautiful hills around to be seen. On every side there rose above the houses a minaret, a palm, a battlemented wall; at every step a fountain or an arabesqued door appeared; there were oaks and leafy fig-trees in the streets and squares, and everywhere air, and light, and the odor of the fields, and a certain gentle peacefulness, as of a princely city, fallen, but not dead. After many turns, we came out in a vast square, opposite the monumental palace of the governor, resplendent with many-colored mosaics of great beauty; and, at that moment, the level rays of the setting sun striking full upon it, it glittered like the pearl-encrusted palaces of the Oriental legends. A few soldiers were going through the powder-play (guioco della polvere); about fifty servants and guards were sitting on the ground before the door; the piazza was deserted. It was a fine spectacle. That illuminated façade, those horsemen, the towers, the solitude, and the sunset formed altogether a picture so completely Moorish, breathed so vivid an air of other times, presented in one frame so many stories, so much poetry, so many dreams, that we stood rapt before it. From thence the soldiers led us to see a great exterior gate of noble design, covered from top to bottom with delicate and many-colored mosaics, which glowed in the sun like jewels set in ivory; and the painters sketched it in all haste before we returned to the city. Until now, the people we met by the way had shown themselves only curious, and it seemed to us that they even regarded us with more benevolent eyes than the population of Fez. But suddenly, without a shadow of reason, their humor changed. Some old women began to show us the whites of their eyes, then some boys threw stones at our mules’ legs, and then a troop of ragamuffins began to run beside us and behind us, making the most infernal noise. The soldiers, meantime, were in no humor for compliments. Two placed themselves in front and two behind us, and they began a real combat with the rabble, striking the nearest with their sticks, throwing stones at those far away, and chasing the most insolent. But it was all labor thrown away. Not daring to retort with stones, the rabble began to throw rotten oranges, bits of lemon-peel, dry sticks, and the shower became so heavy, that it seemed to us more prudent to advise the soldiers to desist from further provocation. But the soldiers were provoked, and either did not or would not hear us, and continued the battle with increasing fury. Indignant at their brutality, we warned them with imperative gestures to desist. But the wretches thought we were reproving them for too much mildness, and went on worse than ever. By way of addition, two boys of ten and twelve years old now joined us—possibly relations of the soldiers—and armed with sticks; they too began to distribute the most desperate blows to men, women, asses, mules, near and far, until even the soldiers themselves counselled moderation. And at every blow they turned and looked at us, as if to ask us to take note of their zeal in our defence; and as we were in fits of laughter, they were encouraged and went on worse than ever. Now what will happen? we said to each other. A scandal! A revolution! Already the beaten ones grumbled, and some raised their hands against the boys; we must get out of the city as soon as may be. But Biseo still hesitated, when a stone struck my mule on the head, and a carrot alighted on the back of Ussi’s neck. Then we decided to clap our hands as agreed upon. But even this innocent signal provoked a tumult. The soldiers, to show that they understood, responded by clapping their own hands; the people in the square, thinking that they were being made game of, clapped theirs, and the oranges and lemons continued to rain upon us, together with curses loud and deep; and when at last we reached the gate, and rode down toward the camp, they still yelled after us from the walls: “Accursed be thy father! May thy race be exterminated! May God roast thy great-grandfather!”

Thus did Mechinez receive us, and fortunate for us it was that she is the “most hospitable city in the empire.”

On the following morning there was brought to the camp a litter for the doctor, made in twenty-four hours by the best carpenters in Mechinez, who would certainly have taken twenty-four days in its construction, if the governor had not used certain arguments to which there was great risk in being deaf. It was a heavy and badly made machine, which looked more like a cage for the transportation of wild beasts than a litter for a sick man; much better made, however, than any thing we could contrive; and the workmen who completed it under our eyes were so proud of it, and so sure of our admiration, that they trembled with emotion at their work, and at every word from us sent flashes from their eyes. When Morteo put the money in their hands they thanked him gravely, and went away with a triumphant smile, which meant—“Ignorant proud ones, we have let you see what we can do!”