"That Is The Captain Of The Port," Said One Of The Genoese; "Pay
Him Respect." I Accordingly Doffed My Hat And Cried, "Sba Alkheir
A Sidi" (Good-Morning, My Lord).
"Are you Englishmans?" shouted
the old grisly giant.
"Englishmans, my lord," I replied, and,
advancing, presented him my hand, which he nearly wrung off with
his tremendous gripe. The other Moor now addressed me in a jargon
composed of English, Spanish, and Arabic. A queer-looking
personage was he also, but very different in most respects from his
companion, being shorter by a head at least, and less complete by
one eye, for the left orb of vision was closed, leaving him, as the
Spaniards style it, tuerto; he, however, far outshone the other in
cleanliness of turban, haik, and trousers. From what he jabbered
to me, I collected that he was the English consul's mahasni or
soldier; that the consul, being aware of my arrival, had dispatched
him to conduct me to his house. He then motioned me to follow him,
which I did, the old port captain attending us to the gate, when he
turned aside into a building, which I judged to be a kind of
custom-house from the bales and boxes of every description piled up
before it. We passed the gate and proceeded up a steep and winding
ascent; on our left was a battery full of guns, pointing to the
sea, and on our right a massive wall, seemingly in part cut out of
the hill; a little higher up we arrived at an opening where stood
the mosque which I have already mentioned. As I gazed upon the
tower I said to myself, "Surely we have here a younger sister of
the Giralda of Seville."
I know not whether the resemblance between the two edifices has
been observed by any other individual; and perhaps there are those
who would assert that no resemblance exists, especially if, in
forming an opinion, they were much swayed by size and colour: the
hue of the Giralda is red, or rather vermilion, whilst that which
predominates in the Djmah of Tangier is green, the bricks of which
it is built being of that colour; though between them, at certain
intervals, are placed others of a light red tinge, so that the
tower is beautifully variegated. With respect to size, standing
beside the giant witch of Seville, the Tangerine Djmah would show
like a ten-year sapling in the vicinity of the cedar of Lebanon,
whose trunk the tempests of five hundred years have worn. And yet
I will assert that the towers in other respects are one and the
same, and that the same mind and the same design are manifested in
both; the same shape do they exhibit, and the same marks have they
on their walls, even those mysterious arches graven on the
superficies of the bricks, emblematic of I know not what. The two
structures may, without any violence, be said to stand in the same
relation to each other as the ancient and modern Moors. The
Giralda is the world's wonder, and the old Moor was all but the
world's conqueror. The modern Moor is scarcely known, and who ever
heard of the Tower of Tangier? Yet examine it attentively, and you
will find in that tower much, very much, to admire, and certainly,
if opportunity enable you to consider the modern Moor as minutely,
you will discover in him, and in his actions, amongst much that is
wild, uncouth, and barbarous, not a little capable of amply
rewarding laborious investigation.
As we passed the mosque I stopped for a moment before the door, and
looked in upon the interior: I saw nothing but a quadrangular
court paved with painted tiles and exposed to the sky; on all sides
were arched piazzas, and in the middle was a fountain, at which
several Moors were performing their ablutions. I looked around for
the abominable thing, and found it not; no scarlet strumpet with a
crown of false gold sat nursing an ugly changeling in a niche.
"Come here," said I, "papist, and take a lesson; here is a house of
God, in externals at least, such as a house of God should be: four
walls, a fountain, and the eternal firmament above, which mirrors
his glory. Dost thou build such houses to the God who hast said,
'Thou shalt make to thyself no graven image'? Fool, thy walls are
stuck with idols; thou callest a stone thy Father, and a piece of
rotting wood the Queen of Heaven. Fool, thou knowest not even the
Ancient of Days, and the very Moor can instruct thee. He at least
knows the Ancient of Days who has said, 'Thou shalt have no other
gods but me.'"
And as I said these words, I heard a cry like the roaring of a
lion, and an awful voice in the distance exclaim, "Kapul Udbagh"
(there is no god but one).
We now turned to the left through a passage which passed under the
tower, and had scarcely proceeded a few steps, when I heard a
prodigious hubbub of infantine voices: I listened for a moment,
and distinguished verses of the Koran; it was a school. Another
lesson for thee, papist. Thou callest thyself a Christian, yet the
book of Christ thou persecutest; thou huntest it even to the sea-
shore, compelling it to seek refuge upon the billows of the sea.
Fool, learn a lesson from the Moor, who teaches his child to repeat
with its first accents the most important portions of the book of
his law, and considers himself wise or foolish, according as he is
versed in or ignorant of that book; whilst thou, blind slave,
knowest not what the book of thy own law contains, nor wishest to
know: yet art thou not to be judged by thy own law? Idolmonger,
learn consistency from the Moor: he says that he shall be judged
after his own law, and therefore he prizes and gets by heart the
entire book of his law.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 208 of 218
Words from 212082 to 213099
of 222596
