This week, we conclude the series of excerpts of an English translation of Relation de la captivité du Sr. Moüette dans les royaumes de Fez et de Maroc, où il a demeuré pendant onze ans (The Story of the Captivity of Sieur Moüette in the Kingdoms of Fez and Marocco, Where He lived for Eleven Years), the book published in 1683 that relates the experiences of Germain Moüette, who at the age of nineteen had the misfortune to be captured by corsairs from Salé.
Last week, remember, Moüette related how his day-to-day life as a slave in Salé was reasonably tolerable, and he ended his narrative with an anecdote about a bet between the Sieur de l’Aubia, a French merchant from Bayonne, and Jacob Bueno de Mesquita, a Jewish merchant, about the arrival of the Jewish Messiah, and how the Governor of Salé forced de Mesquita to pay up on the debt and how de l’Aubia and the Governor then split the profits.
We pick up the story from there.
About the time when the Governor of Salé and de l’Aubia divided between them the 400 pieces of eight from the bet with de Mesquita, the Jewish merchant, the Governor demanded 1,000 crowns from me for my ransom. I told him the same I had told my previous masters, but he, being a brute who held all the authority in his own hands, and consequently not to be satisfied with reason—besides that I had no other master to plead for me—put me to work as a laborer with the masons who were repairing the castle walls.
For two months and a half, they never gave over beating me unmercifully with their trowels, providing no other reason for it but that I should give my master 1,000 crowns. If I did that, they insisted, I should not have to work any more.
At length, the constant blows and hard labor prevailing, I promised the Governor 500 crowns. He replied that such great men as he did not part with their slaves without great ransoms, and besides, I ought to think myself much obliged to him to get off at the rate he demanded.
After that, I continued some time longer upon the work of repairing the castle walls. However, I was not able to endure it. I therefore applied myself to the Governor’s Steward, telling the man that I could give but 600 crowns, and that if he could get me ransomed at that rate, he should have twenty for himself. This man arranged the business for me, and we went to the Sieur Parasol, then the French Consul, to draw up the contract.
After this, I had a respite of some months. After they expired, my master demanded of me where the 600 crowns were. I told him I had used all my endeavors, but that the merchant ships dared not sail so frequently to these coasts because of the wars among Christian Princes. He waited a month longer. After that, when the money did not come, he put me to work again, adding a chain of twenty-five pound weight to increase my misery.
At this time, Muley Semein, who was come to the crown [i.e., had become Sultan] after the death of his brother Muley Archy, had returned victorious from Morocco [Marrakech]. Having been offended by the Governor of Salé, my master, who had slighted Muley Semein while he was prince, Muley Semein sent him orders to proceed to Fez with all his soldiers.
The Governor, fearing that the Sultan meant him no good, was so frightened that he became like a mad man, and not knowing on whom to vent his passion, on the day before his departure, he revenged himself on me and my companions. The first stroke he gave a Spaniard broke his head and knocked him down half dead. An Italian fared no better. I, who came last under his hands, and against whom he had a spleen before, had my head battered and all my body bruised with blows. Afterwards, to sooth my hurts, I had nothing but the white of an egg and some cobwebs.
The next day he set out for Fez, where the Sultan would have cut off his head with his own hand, but some friends the Governor had there in court interceded for him. The Sultan eventually spared his life, but he stripped the Governor of his rank, took took away all his soldiers, and ordering him to spend his rest of his days in Fez as a private person.
After this, the Sultan sent his cousin, Hamet Ben Abdalla, to Salé to remove all the Governor’s goods to Fez. He made us set out about the end of July. Only I, of seven Christians, had irons placed upon my feet, and so encumbered, I was forced to travel barefoot over the scorching sands the road was covered with.
A fortnight later, I arrived in Fez.
We take our leave of Germain Moüette at this point. The rest of his narrative deals with his time in Fez and other places. We might perhaps come back to Moüette sometime in the future, but for now we’re done.
For those who may be interested, Moüette’s narrative as presented here in the past few weeks comes mainly from an early eighteenth century English translation of Moüette’s original French text. The book containing that translation is titled A New Collection of Voyages and Travels into Several Parts of the World, None of Them ever before Printed in English, vol 2, first published in 1711.
When I was uncertain about the accuracy of this English translation, I consulted Moüette’s original French text: Relation de la captivité du Sr. Mouette dans les royaumes de Fez et de Maroc, où il a demeuré pendant onze ans (The Story of the Captivity of Sieur Mouette in the Kingdoms of Fez and Marocco, Where He lived for Eleven Years), first published in 1683.
Next week, we move on to new material.
Before we leave Germain Moüette entirely, though, there’s an interesting twist to things that is worth mentioning.
Moüette, remember, was forced to spend some time sleeping nights in a mattamore—one of the underground chambers in which slaves were kept. Conditions were appalling, and he was hugely relieved when he no longer had to spend his nights there.
One of the things he did while there, though, was scribe his name and the date of his incarceration on the wall of the mattamore. He makes no mention of this in his narrative. We only know about it because a Moroccan archaeologist named Mohamed Krombi, who has recently been excavating in the remains of that same mattamore, discovered his name scratched into the stone wall.
Below, you can see a photo of Moüette’s inscription. It’s a little difficult to make out the details, but you can clearly see the letters “t” and “e’ at the end of “Moüette” along with the date when he was there: 1671. Below, you can make out “de Dieppe” in block capitals (Dieppe, recall, was Moüette’s home town).
Quite amazing, to have such a connection after all these centuries.
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