It often happens
that a Marabout shrine will be visited by Moor and Jew, each investing
the departed saint with his own peculiar sanctity. So contagious is this
species of superstition, that Romish Christians, long resident in
Barbary, assisted by the inventive monks, at last discover the Moorish
or Jewish to be a Christian saint. The Jewesses brought our Oriental
rabbi, declaring him to know everything, and that his garments smelt of
the Holy City. Benoliel, or Ben, as the English called him, protested to
me that he did not believe in charms; he only allowed the rabbi to write
them to please the women. But I have found, during my travels in the
Mediterranean, many persons of education, who pretended they did not
believe this or that superstition of their church, whilst they were at
heart great cowards, having no courage to reject a popular falsehood,
and quite as superstitious as those who never doubt the excrescent
dogmas or traditionary fables of their religion. The paper amulets,
however, operated favourably on Mrs. Benoliel. She was delivered of a
fine child; and received the congratulations of her neighbours. The
child was named Sultana; [9] and the people were all as merry as if a
princess had been born in Israel.
I received a visit from a Moorish taleb, to whom I read some portions of
my journal, as also the Arabic Testament:
_Taleb_. - "The English read Arabic because they are the friends of
Mussulmans. For this reason, God gives them wit to understand the
language of the Koran."
_Traveller_. - "We wish to study all languages, and to know all people."
_Taleb_. - "Now, as you have become so wise in our country, and read
Arabic, where next are you going? Why not be quiet and return home, and
live a marabout? Where next are you going?"
In this strain the Taleb continued lecturing me, until he was
interrupted by a Berber of Rif.
The Rifian. - "Christian, Engleez, come to our mountains. I will conduct
you to the Emir, on whom is the blessing of God. Come to the Emir,
come."
Traveller. - "No, I've nothing to do with war."
The Rifian. - "Ah! ah! ah! I know you are a necromancer. Cannot you tell
me where money is buried? I want money very bad. Give me a peseta."
Traveller. - "Not I. I am going to see your Emperor."
The Rifian. - "Ah! ah! ah! that is right; give him plenty of money. Muley
Abd Errahman hoards up money always. If you give him plenty of money,
you will be placed on a horse and ride by his side."
The inhabitants of Barbary all bury their money. The secret is confided
to a single person, who often is taken ill, and dies before he can
discover the hiding place to his surviving relatives.
