These were Moorish women, who were, I believe, in all instances, old and ugly, judging from the countenances of which I caught a glimpse as they lifted the eaves of their hats to gaze on me as I passed, or to curse me for stamping on their bread.The whole soc was full of peoples and there was abundance of bustle, screaming, and vociferation, and as the sun, though the hour was still early, was shining with the greatest brilliancy, I thought that I had scarcely ever witnessed a livelier scene.
Crossing the soc we entered a narrow street with the same kind of box-shops on each side, some of which, however, were either unoccupied or not yet opened, the lid being closed.We almost immediately turned to the left, up a street somewhat similar, and my guide presently entered the door of a low house, which stood at the corner of a little alley, and which he informed me was the abode of Joanna Correa.We soon stood in the midst of this habitation.I say the midst, as all the Moorish houses are built with a small court in the middle.
This one was not more than ten feet square.It was open at the top, and around it on three sides were apartments; on the fourth a small staircase, which communicated with the upper story, half of which consisted of a terrace looking down into the court, over the low walls of which you enjoyed a prospect of the sea and a considerable part of the town.The rest of the story was taken up by a long room, destined for myself, and which opened upon the terrace by a pair of folding-doors.At either end of this apartment stood a bed, extending transversely from wall to wall, the canopy touching the ceiling.A table and two or three chairs completed the furniture.
I was so occupied in inspecting the house of Joanna Correa, that at first I paid little attention to that lady herself.She now, however, came up upon the terrace where my guide and myself were standing.She was a woman about five and forty, with regular features, which had once been handsome, but had received considerable injury from time, and perhaps more from trouble.Two of her front teeth had disappeared, but she still had fine black hair.As I looked upon her countenance, Isaid within myself, if there be truth in physiognomy, thou art good and gentle, O Joanna; and, indeed, the kindness Iexperienced from her during the six weeks which I spent beneath her roof would have made me a convert to that science had Idoubted in it before.I believe no warmer and more affectionate heart ever beat in human bosom than in that of Joanna Correa, the Mahonese widow, and it was indexed by features beaming with benevolence and good nature, though somewhat clouded with melancholy.
She informed me that she had been married to a Genoese, the master of a felouk which passed between Gibraltar and Tangier, who had been dead about four years, leaving her with a family of four children, the eldest of which was a lad of thirteen; that she had experienced great difficulty in providing for her family and herself since the death of her husband, but that Providence had raised her up a few excellent friends, especially the British consul; that besides letting lodgings to such travellers as myself, she made bread which was in high esteem with the Moors, and that she was likewise in partnership in the sale of liquors with an old Genoese.She added, that this last person lived below in one of the apartments; that he was a man of great ability and much learning, but that she believed he was occasionally somewhat touched here, pointing with her finger to her forehead, and she therefore hoped that I would not be offended at anything extraordinary in his language or behaviour.She then left me, as she said, to give orders for my breakfast; whereupon the Jewish domestic, who had accompanied me from the consul, finding that I was established in the house, departed.
I speedily sat down to breakfast in an apartment on the left side of the little wustuddur, the fare was excellent; tea, fried fish, eggs, and grapes, not forgetting the celebrated bread of Joanna Correa.I was waited upon by a tall Jewish youth of about twenty years, who informed me that his name was Haim Ben Atar, that he was a native of Fez, from whence his parents brought him at a very early age to Tangier, where he had passed the greater part of his life principally in the service of Joanna Correa, waiting upon those who, like myself, lodged in the house.I had completed my meal, and was seated in the little court, when I heard in the apartment opposite to that in which I had breakfasted several sighs, which were succeeded by as many groans, and then came "AVE MARIA, GRATIAPLENA, ORA PRO ME," and finally a croaking voice chanted:-"Gentem auferte perfidam Credentium de finibus, Ut Christo laudes debitas Persolvamus alacriter.""That is the old Genoese," whispered Haim Ben Atar, "praying to his God, which he always does with particular devotion when he happens to have gone to bed the preceding evening rather in liquor.He has in his room a picture of Maria Buckra, before which he generally burns a taper, and on her account he will never permit me to enter his apartment.He once caught me looking at her, and I thought he would have killed me, and since then he always keeps his chamber locked, and carries the key in his pocket when he goes out.He hates both Jew and Moor, and says that he is now living amongst them for his sins.""They do not place tapers before pictures," said I, and strolled forth to see the wonders of the land.
