Puslapio vaizdai
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lips-a royal caricaturist. In the earlier days, when a pencil or knife was asked for, it was passed to his Majesty on the back of the hand, or laid on the table before him; for rumor says that knives are used to kill, and bullets are made of lead. The Moor never cuts his bread with a knife. Bread is sacred, broken by the hands, with the words "Bismillah" ("In the name of God"), and never thrown away. I have seen the Sultan point to a stray crumb, the size of a cherry, lying on the earth, and call a slave, who devoutly picked it up, kissed it, and gave it to the leopard close by. At home it became necessary for me to throw the heaps of dried crusts from the kitchen myself.

The sentiment concerning the bread is too beautiful for ridicule, though in time we handled knives and pencils between ourselves just as do all enlightened people.

The Sultan's impatience was the hardest nut to crack. "My lord must absorb knowledge gained by careful work before rapid achievements are possible; he should work a few hours each day. It's like studying the Koran," I told him.

What his thoughts were at these words I do not know, but he said with apparent sincerity, "I shall do it," and he forthwith began a drawing very carefully. In a few moments impatience seized his pencil. "Slowly, as at first." Repeating this a number of times steadied him, but the prospects of an astonishing result were shattered as his pencil suddenly swerved in fantastic lines over the work. Endurance had been overwhelmed. Although his powers of persistence improved steadily, he still aimed for the trick without the labor. As I walked over to see the work being done with pencil or charcoal, his eyes often wandered to the great palette on my arm, with its splashes of color. Why should he, Mulai Abd-ul-Aziz, be trifling with a toy, while one of lower grade worked with beautiful colors?

It was sure to come; eventually he said: "I would picture a head with colors." "When?" I asked.

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frames were placed about even the pictures of beggars, as we call weather-beaten faces and rags picturesque. His features had run the scale of displeasure, astonishment, amusement, and approval.

We were now in the midst of summer, and as the heat became oppressive, I abandoned my room, and lived altogether in the garden.

The desire to make a memorandum sketch of the slave-market awakened me in the morning, and the heat hurried me to the studio, cooled by an electric fan. In searching for a canvas to work upon, I stopped to look at a neglected study of a lion. The slave-market was forgotten in a moment, and soon I was at work upon a larger canvas, painting with wide brushes from the lion's sketch. After a few hours' work, a shadow crept through the entry, and I turned to salute my pupil; but the vision of a lion had enchained him.

"Ah-h!" He stood agape. "When didst thou picture him? Finished?" The last word was in English.

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All day, at intervals, royal excursions were made to the studio to inquire, Finished?" and the work was removed to the palace that evening.

The word "finished," I learned in time, was meant to express laconically, "The work pleases me; when finished, send it to the palace."

From that mysterious region he sometimes issued with a guilty look and a drawing from life. Although some of the drawings showed costumes strange to me, his vehement assurance that there were such inside, together with the rather firmly drawn lines, convinced me that this was the case. He was now quite content to work with charcoal or pencil, and not at all squeamish about soiling his fingers or garb.

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tiring before being posed; there was no time to lose.

"There, that is good."

I began hurriedly to lay it in. In a few moments he said, shifting uneasily," I tire." "But my lord said he would be patient." He smiled slyly. "Very well." I worked rapidly.

"Finished?" he suddenly cried. "Finished? Just began!" I answered. He must be held, as his nature is a very restive one, so I at once related an incident of having seen a fakir in the market-place who held a dagger to his throat while with a stone he pounded it into the flesh.

Many times have I beheld the like," he said, “but, more wonderful still, at Mequinez were a few who dug into their eyes with daggers, and, wiping the blood away, revealed those organs uninjured. This I beheld with mine own eyes. There was another, where he is now I know not, with whom one sat, while certain feverish charms were uttered, and caused the eyes to close, and the subject to be carried to another city, -Fez, Tetuan, anywhere,and after visiting friends or relatives, be returned to one's home."

"And the Aisawa?" I questioned, working away, hoping also to hypnotize my sitter.

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"A great saint of the Aisawa," he continued, "is able, if a live sheep be thrown from a house-top to a crowd in waiting below, by simply making the motion, so,' -he swung an arm through the air, "from a distance, to cause the sheep to fall, severed in two, among the crowd. Ah! in a few days the Hamadusha will leave on a pilgrimage to Mequinez, each chopping his own head, as a penance, as they dance through the streets."

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Very good for a picture," I ventured, losing no time at my painting.

"Yea, make one"; and then, realizing that he had been sitting for some time, he said, “Finished?" stretching himself and coming to me. His first words were, "Remove them," pointing to the two locks of hair hanging from over his ears. Each day I shall come and sit for a while, until thou sayst it is finished," he said, leaving the studio.

A saint himself, the Sultan naturally shares the faith of his people in saints, but concedes that most of the others are dead

ones.

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A picture of the Hamadusha required close observation from life. I knew that, when once in their dancing and head-chopping frenzies, they regarded a Christian as an evil spirit who should be destroyed. My position with the government seemed to offer a safeguard. So, on the morning of the pilgrimage, two court soldiers, for whom I had applied without stating the purpose, were sent to my house. Directing them to the kitchen, one of the servants was sent to the streets to return at the approach of the Hamadusha. At the first opportunity the soldiers escaped; a servant had advised them of my intentions. They quickly spread the news among the court soldiers, and my message for others resulted in nothing, as all craftily declined to accept the responsibility.

Deciding to trust to my own resources in whatever danger might be encountered,

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huge clod of earth and crushed it over his hacked scalp. Bounding up and down, side by side, others danced, with gory heads flopping loosely, in time to the drumming of tom-toms, till the brain reeled, when the dancer leaped into the air, swept his blade aloft, and brought it down upon his head with a sickening rattle. One fell like a log; he was picked up by two old men, who mercifully took his ax away; he shrieked for it like a demon, while a man jumped from among the onlookers, mopped the oozing scalp with a piece of bread, and as he sprang back was pounced upon by the eager crowd, who tore off bits of the blood-soaked bread and devoured them, a blood-atonement indeed!

I gasped as this overwhelming dream. developed. It was a hideous nightmare. Stealthily, with dripping ax, one approached, his eyes immovable, glaring at me, streams of red trickling over his face and chest. Never before had he seen a devil at such a time! The wily crowd opened for him. Why did not my followers say or do something?

"Come away! he sees you!" came a cry. Some one must stop that monster, so I gathered my scattered senses and said to those surrounding me, and as coolly as was possible: "This is a street. My business carries me here."

Loud murmuring arose. "Go home!" they shouted, "Government doctor," "Sultan's master," "Friend of the Moors," while a few good souls blockaded the path of my nightmare, who was now grunting and snorting and shaking his ax.

My impressions of victory died away when the confused glimmer of other bedaubed heads plowed forward. A man, their chief, thrust himself in my direction, and shrieked excitedly:

"Begone! Begone!" "I am with the government," I called. "Thou art responsible."

"These people are madmen now," he growled.

anything befall me, did his utmost to drive the men back; but the vision of a devil in the shape of a Christian overpowered them, and they tugged at those who held them. In this predicament I moved to one side, backed my horse against a shop, and looked for my faithful army. Alas, it had dwindled to one! It pained me to note that the man at my side was not Gelalli; it was the servant added to increase our numbers. But the move was a good one, for the poor devils swerved, and were soon chopping their own heads with increased fury, and after dancing before the mosque, disappeared from view.

Exaggerated reports had reached the bashaw, for shortly after my return home three soldiers of recognized authority arrived, who, when they learned the state of affairs, took me into the very midst of the gruesome spectacle, where I could closely see the axes-a thin, wide blade of steel, shaped like a quarter-moon, with a number of loose rings, which rattle ominously, fastened near the two-foot handle. The torture is often fatal, although there are men present who restrain those inflicting the penalty too furiously. Upon receiving a silver piece, each soldier said: "Thy mirror is my brother."

These head-hacking Hamadusha are the followers of Sidi Ali bel Hamdush, upon whose death, as one version goes, his disciples became so crazed with grief that each seized the nearest implement-knife, stone, or club-to torture himself. Many years have developed this impulse into a yearly torture by the more zealous followers.

Another sect are the Aisawa, said to be poison-proof, for which reason all of the snake-charmers sing the praises of Sidi Mohammed bin Aisa, the founder. Each year the Aisawa swarm, dancing the streets in procession, tearing limb from limb the live sheep thrown to them, and madly eating any portion which comes away in their hands. This is said to have originated through Sidi Mohammed bin Aisa suddenly causing a number of sheep to appear among his famine-stricken followers, who seized and devoured them alive. These two sects are peaceful ordinarily, and are not at all responsible for their doings while "Quick! Come!" cried the voices of raving. The silent Darkawi and the black my followers.

"Under thy protection I put myself," I replied.

All was confusion; some were urging the Hamadusha on, while others protested. Those with axes uttered no word, a bad

omen.

The chief, realizing his position should.

Ginawa are less numerous sects.

Though the mosques are open for prayer

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