The Mole - The Two Moors - Djmah of Tangier - House of God -British Consul - Curious Spectacle - The Moorish House -Joanna Correa - Ave Maria.
So we rode to the Mole and landed.This Mole consists at present of nothing more than an immense number of large loose stones, which run about five hundred yards into the bay; they are part of the ruins of a magnificent pier which the English, who were the last foreign nation which held Tangier, destroyed when they evacuated the place.The Moors have never attempted to repair it; the surf at high water breaks over it with great fury.I found it a difficult task to pick my way over the slippery stones, and should once or twice have fallen but for the kindness of the Genoese mariners.At last we reached the beach, and were proceeding towards the gate of the town, when two persons, Moors, came up to us.I almost started at sight of the first; he was a huge old barbarian with a white uncombed beard, dirty turban, haik, and trousers, naked legs, and immense splay feet, the heels of which stood out a couple of inches at least behind his rusty black slippers.
"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, Icollected 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 Iwill 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, "KAPULUDBAGH" (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 Iheard a prodigious hubbub of infantine voices: I listened for a moment, and distinguished verses of the Koran; it was a school.