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Title: Our mission to the court of Marocco in 1880, under Sir John Drummond Hay
Author: Philip Durham Trotter
Release date: August 28, 2026 [eBook #79468]
Language: English
Original publication: Edinburgh: David Douglas, 1881
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUR MISSION TO THE COURT OF MAROCCO IN 1880, UNDER SIR JOHN DRUMMOND HAY ***
OUR MISSION
TO
THE COURT OF MAROCCO
_Printed by R. & R. Clark_
FOR
DAVID DOUGLAS, EDINBURGH
LONDON HAMILTON, ADAMS, AND CO.
CAMBRIDGE MACMILLAN AND CO.
GLASGOW JAMES MACLEHOSE.
[Illustration: MEMBERS OF MISSION.]
OUR MISSION
TO
THE COURT OF MAROCCO
IN 1880
UNDER SIR JOHN DRUMMOND HAY, K.C.B.,
MINISTER PLENIPOTENTIARY AND ENVOY EXTRAORDINARY TO HIS MAJESTY THE
SULTAN
BY
PHILIP DURHAM TROTTER,
CAPTAIN 93D HIGHLANDERS
ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE HON D. LAWLESS, RIFLE BRIGADE
EDINBURGH: DAVID DOUGLAS
MDCCCLXXXI
=Dedicated by Permission=
TO
HIS EXCELLENCY SIR JOHN DRUMMOND HAY, K.C.B.
MINISTER PLENIPOTENTIARY AND ENVOY EXTRAORDINARY TO THE SHARÍFIAN COURT
_IN REMEMBRANCE OF MUCH KINDNESS_
PREFACE.
Some said, “John, print it,”
Others said, “No;”
Some said, “It might do good,”
Others said, “Not so.”
Whatever weight I might have been inclined to attach to the fluctuating
expressions of friendly opinion contained in the above lines, there is
at all events one ground on which I have been nearly tempted to allow
the “noes to have it,” and that is the length of time which has elapsed
since the return of the Mission.
The delay has been a matter of great regret to me; and its cause—viz.
the long continuance of a severe fever, contracted either amid the
scenes of which I write, or in that valuable but pestilential possession
of Her Majesty, the Rock of Gibraltar—must also be my excuse for any
imperfection of style or composition which may be found in this volume.
The work itself is merely an elaboration of my diary kept from day to
day during my residence in the Sultan’s “happy realms;” and though the
interest of the events recorded is not of a sensational or startling
character, I think I may safely assert that truth—if nothing else—is to
be found in the following pages.
I may mention that Leo Africanus, whose work on Marocco I have several
times quoted, was a Moor of Granada, who fled to Fez when that city was
besieged in 1492. He was patronised by Mulai Ahmed, founder of the
present dynasty, and later in his career was captured by Christian
corsairs, and taken to Rome. Here he was well received by Pope Leo X.,
who is said to have induced him to embrace Christianity, and to have
baptized him under his own name. His book was translated into Latin and
Italian, and was published in Venice in 1563 by Ramusio in his famous
work, “Delle Navigationi e Viaggi.” In this form it found its way to
England, and was, in 1600, rendered by Master John Pory into the quaint
English of his time.
I obtained the outline of my map by enlarging that of the “Carte de
l’Empire de Maroc,” executed in 1848 for the French War Department. The
filling in of the interior on either side of the route we followed is
from observations of my own, supplemented by information taken from a
map by M. Tissot, lately French Minister at Tangier, and now Ambassador
at Constantinople, to the extreme accuracy of whose work, as far as I
could judge of it, I am able to testify. Upon the latter source, also, I
am chiefly dependent for the geography of that part of the country,
remote from our route, which I have not visited, but which is doubtless
as correct as that which I was able to verify for myself. It is possible
that my rendering of Arabic spelling into English may be thought
pedantic or incorrect; but allowing for the corrupt form of Arabic
spoken in Marocco, I have approached, as nearly as was feasible, to the
now authorised Anglo-Oriental system. For the benefit of those who may
be unacquainted with the “spelling of the future,” I may mention that
á sounds like a in harm,
ú „ „ oo „ goose.
í „ „ ee „ seed.
î „ „ i „ smile.
a „ „ u „ but.
u „ „ u „ full.
i „ „ i „ bit.
My sincere thanks are due to the Hon. D. Lawless, Rifle Brigade, for
placing at my disposal the negatives of photographs he took during our
tour. Of the very successful results obtained from them by Mr. Alexander
Rivington, Lansdowne Road, Tottenham, readers of this book will judge.
The peculiar appearance of the arch opposite page 242 is due to some
photographic eccentricity; but as the details of the building are
clearly brought out, and the crookedness of the picture does not lessen
its architectural value, I have thought it best to retain it among the
illustrations.
I am further much indebted to Sir Joseph Hooker, C.B., K.C.S.I., for his
kindness in furnishing me with a list of the plants collected for him by
Miss Drummond Hay during our wanderings, and which will be found in the
Appendix. To others, also, who have tendered their advice or assistance
in matters about which I was doubtful, I beg to offer my grateful
acknowledgments.
P. D. T.
EDINBURGH, _April 1881_.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Decision of Government to send an Envoy Extraordinary to the
Sultan—Preliminary arrangements—Presents for Sultan—Account of
Tangier—Landing there—Dance at Italian Legation—Departure of
Mission—Market at Hadd el Gharbía—Ad Mercuri—Wild flowers
Pages 1–18
CHAPTER II.
Tomb of Síd Ahmed ben Ali—Megalithic remains at
Mzorah—“Lab-el-barôd”—“Mona”—Extortion by
Europeans—“Matamors”—Sharíf of Wazan—Boar-hunt—Camp servants
19–33
CHAPTER III.
Flat country—Heliographing—Cold nights—Roadside sacrifice—View of El
Araish—Saints and lunatics—Reception at Alcazar—Musicians—Town of
Alcazar—“Kohl”—Sultan el Mansor—Battles of Alarcos and
Alcazar—Compounding a felony
34–43
CHAPTER IV.
Romans and Portuguese—Fording the Wad el Kús—“El Má Bared”—Chess
playing—Land tortoises—Changing escorts—Kaïd of Ben Aouda—Quail
shooting—Entertainment at Habassi—Poison—Kuskussú—Solitude of
plains—Thunder-storm—Irregular protection
44–60
CHAPTER V.
Kaïd of Habassi—Passage of Wad el Sebú—Arab women—Pigs and evil
spirits—Beni Hassan—Curiosity of villagers—Sick and blind—Sentries
at night—Illness or accident—Rain—Missing the road—Quitting the
plains—Síd Búbakr—Geographical difficulties—“Kúbbe”—Nomenclature of
villages—Famine—Foreign tyranny
61–82
CHAPTER VI.
Leaky tents—Beni Aamer—Hospitality of villagers—Sea of mud—Storm—Camp
attacked by robbers—Perils of darkness—Curious rocks—First view of
Fez
83–95
CHAPTER VII.
Entry into Fez—Compulsory welcome—Grandees of Fez—Kaïd Maclean—Violence
of soldiers—Merchants of Fez—Jews—Our garden in Fez—Kaïd El
Meshwa—Moorish etiquette—Grand Vizier—Streets and shops—Sanctity of
mosques
96–109
CHAPTER VIII.
Visit to the Chamberlain—Our host’s sons—French officers at
dinner—Reception of Mission by Sultan—Kilts and equestrianism—Palace
enclosure—Homage of soldiers—Dialogue between Sultan and
Envoy—Delivery of the Queen’s letter—Presentation of Mission
110–122
CHAPTER IX.
Position of Fez—Water supply—Breakfast at Grand Vizier’s—Hidden
treasure—Sultan’s garden—Laying down telephone—Royal stud—Dinner at
Kaïd Hadj Hamed’s—Surgery
123–138
CHAPTER X.
Exhibition of heliographs, &c.—Breach of etiquette—Sultan Mulai
Hassan—Refusal to be photographed—Phonograph—Ancestry of
Sultan—Breakfast at the Kaïd el Meshwa’s—Moorish architecture—Dinner
with Bashaw of Fez—His harem—The Prophet on women
139–157
CHAPTER XI.
Breakfast at the “Eyebrow’s”—The late Síd Músa—Second sight—Death of
Grand Vizier—Moorish customs—Marocco at Chatham—Cursed by a
saint—Professional story-teller—Shallow
graves—Slave-market—Treatment of slaves
158–170
CHAPTER XII.
Silver ornaments—Mosques—Market—Snake-charmers—Jews—Police
arrangements—Frequency of murders—Army reform—Good intentions of
Sultan—Unpaid officials—_Lex talionis_—Mock Sultan—Two remarkable
events
171–189
CHAPTER XIII.
Visit to the palace—Failure to photograph Sultan—Setting up
telephone—Panthers—Beauty of palace—Sultan’s
entertainment—Jugglers—Native drama—Dance of the Aissowieh—Saint of
Fez—Visit to the “Melha”—Inspection of infantry—Inns of
Fez—Treatment of lunatics
190–211
CHAPTER XIV.
Farewell audience—The Sultan’s thanks—Discourtesy of Vizier—Claiming
protection—Designing foreigners—Precautions against them—Artillery
practice—Presents from Sultan—News from home—Books in Fez—Political
results of Mission
212–225
CHAPTER XV.
In camp again—Departure from Fez—Consular agents—Infantry drill—Closing
of gates—Source of Wad el Fas—Defences of Marocco—Chances of
Invasion
226–234
CHAPTER XVI.
Heavy rain—Hill of Kanúfa—Telegraph v. heliograph—Ladies of
Mequinez—Selection of heliograph station—Bokhári—Final
instruction in heliography—Sultan Mulai Ismael—His cruelties
and sanctity—Visit to prison
235–245
CHAPTER XVII.
Departure from Mequinez—Volubilis and Zarhún—Mulai Ismael and the
devil—Q. Cæcilius Domitianus—Description of
ruins—Horse-stealers—Hondius his map—Ptolemy—Failure to enter Mulai
Edris—Fate of impostor—Arab tents—Dangerous route—Berbers and Jews
246–260
CHAPTER XVIII.
Threatened attack by Zemmúr—Direction of march changed—Fight with
Zemmúr—Sport spoiled—Forest of Mamora—View of Rabât—Camp at
Sla—Sallee rovers—Ruins of Shella—Female saints—Tower of
Hassan—Auction of rugs
261–270
CHAPTER XIX.
Return of Síd Búbakr—His house in Marocco—Precautions when from
home—Mehdía—Portuguese defeat—Râs ed Dúra—Whited sepulchres—Arab
girl—Chamomile and borage—Cork woods—El Araish—Well-to-do
Jews—Passage of Wad el Kús—Remains of Moorish fleet—Insect
life—Azîla—Irregular protection of Jews—Fording tidal rivers—An
avenger of blood
271–286
CHAPTER XX.
Return to Tangier—Difficult task of English representative—Obstacles to
collecting information—Photographs—Ethnology—Berbers and
Arabs—Bokhári—Moors—Further results of Mission—Conclusion
287–294
APPENDIX.
Appendix A. General List of Plants collected
295
Appendix B. Translation of Letter from Kaïd Ali to Lieut. Haynes
302
Appendix C. Diseases of Marocco
302
Appendix D. Extracts from Memorandum on Army Reform
303
Appendix E. Substance of Report on Sultan’s _’Askár_, or Regular
Infantry
303
Appendix F. Extracts from Letter of Sir J. Drummond Hay to Author
305
Appendix G. Specimen of a “Sharífian Letter”
305
Appendix H. Inscription on Stone at Volubilis
306
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
1. MEMBERS OF MISSION
_Frontispiece._
2. ARAB SCRIBE AND HAÏM SECSÚ
_Opposite page_ 5
3. ARRIVAL AT HADD EL GHARBÍA
„ 16
4. SÍD AHMED BEN ALI
„ 18
5. MONOLITHIC REMAINS AT MZORAH
„ 20
6. ALLARBI, HADJ ALI, HADJ HAMED, AND ABD-ER-RAHMAN
„ 32
7. OUTER WALL OF ALCAZAR
„ 40
8. CAMP AT HABASSI, A “DAY OF REST”
„ 56
9. GROUP OF ARABS OUTSIDE HABASSI
„ 60
10. A MID-DAY HALT ON THE ROAD TO FEZ
„ 72
11. SÍD BÚBAKR
„ 84
12. VIEW OF FEZ, ENTERING FROM N.W.
„ 102
13. TOMB OF SULTAN NEAR FEZ
„ 114
14. VIEW OF FEZ FROM S.W.
„ 124
15. KAÏD OF FREIGÍAHS AND SOLDIERS IN PALACE GARDEN
„ 134
16. VERANDAH OF PALACE, “EYEBROW” IN BACKGROUND
„ 140
17. RUIN NEAR FEZ
„ 148
18. STORY-TELLER AND AUDIENCE
„ 164
19. THE SULTAN’S “SUBSTITUTES”
„ 192
20. FORT NEAR FEZ
„ 220
21. CAMP BETWEEN FEZ AND MEQUINEZ
„ 226
22. VIEW OF MEQUINEZ, ENTERING FROM THE EAST
„ 234
23. GATEWAY IN MEQUINEZ
„ 238
24. DO. DO.
„ 242
25. RUINS OF VOLUBILIS
„ 246
26. DO. DO.
„ 250
27. TOWER OF HASSAN
„ 264
28. RUINS OF SHELLA
„ 268
29. PASSAGE OF THE WAD EL SEBÚ AT MEHDÍA
„ 272
30. EL ARAISH
„ 276
31. KÚBBA, NEAR AZÎLA
„ 282
CHAPTER I.
Decision of Government to send an Envoy Extraordinary—Preliminary
arrangements—Presents for Sultan—Account of Tangier—Landing
there—Dance at Italian Legation—Departure of Mission—Market at Hadd
el Gharbía—Ad Mercuri—Wild flowers.
_British Legation, Tangier, 2d April 1880._
The British Government having, early in the year, decided to send an
Envoy Extraordinary to the Court of Marocco, the Mission was appointed
to start in the beginning of April for Fez, where, at that season, the
Sultan, Mulai Hassan, and his Court, were residing.
The convenience of the Envoy and of the members of the Mission was not,
however, the only thing which had to be taken into account, for the
forms of Moorish etiquette on such occasions are stringent, and much
correspondence and many couriers had to pass between Tangier and Fez
from the time when the subject was first mooted until the final receipt
of the Sultan’s permission for Sir John Hay to present himself, with his
suite, at the Sharífian Court.
A descriptive list had also to be furnished to His Majesty of the
individuals His Excellency proposed bringing with him, together with the
approximate number of camp followers and baggage animals which were to
form part of the invading force, all and sundry of whom would, according
to the custom in Marocco, be entertained at the expense of the State
during the whole period of their absence from Tangier.
Preliminaries were at last all arranged, and the ten Government tents
required to supplement those belonging to Sir John and those provided by
the Sultan, were sent across from Gibraltar on the 31st March, in order
that all might start together on the following day, and the camp be
pitched at the first halting-place out of Tangier, ready for the Mission
to occupy it on Saturday, 3d of April.
I had for some time enjoyed the acquaintance and friendship of our
minister at Tangier, and he, knowing my desire to visit the interior of
Marocco, had kindly invited me to accompany him in the approaching
Mission to Fez.
Sir John, having suggested to the Foreign Office that a telephone and
set of heliographic instruments would be a suitable present to the
Sultan from our Government, was anxious to know if I could undertake the
task of explaining their use at the Court; and though I had to confess
to only a limited knowledge of the former, I was glad that my services
should be utilised in regard to the latter instruments.
The contingent from Gibraltar who were fortunate enough to be taken in
His Excellency’s suite, were Surgeon-Major Will, medical officer to the
Mission, and Lieutenant Haynes, R.E., sent in charge of the instruments;
while the Hon. D. Lawless, R.B., and I accompanied Sir John in a private
capacity. Though we were only four in number, exclusive of my servant,
the Gibraltar authorities had the discernment to recognize our
individual merits, and H.M.S. “Express” was accordingly placed at our
disposal to take us across the Straits. At 10 A.M. on Friday, the 2d of
April, we weighed anchor, and, after a pleasant crossing, brought up off
Tangier about 2 P.M. Having a considerable amount of private baggage, to
say nothing of the large boxes containing the scientific instruments
destined to electrify Marocco, the convenience of having the gunboat to
convey us and our chattels was not to be despised.
Probably many people have a personal acquaintance with the bay and town
of Tangier, while most of those who only know it by name are aware of
the position it occupies in English history; but for the sake of the few
who are not included under either of those heads, I may mention that in
the year 1662 the town became an English possession, being, as were also
the town and island of Bombay, part of the dowry of Catharine of
Braganza on her marriage with Charles II. Tangier had been in possession
of the Portuguese for nearly two hundred years, and the national feeling
of a certain party in Portugal was much against this part of the
transaction, which, for all the benefit derived by our own country,
might just as well have been left alone. After twenty-two years of
misfortunes and mismanagement, during which time we got rather the worst
of it at the hands of the Moors, the place was given up, and the
magnificent mole—the only useful relic of English occupation—destroyed.
Since that date Tangier has been in possession of its rightful owners;
at first it was merely a refuge for pirates, a community who flourished
in Marocco till 1817, but subsequently, owing to its being the only port
with decent anchorage for vessels, it has become the chief outlet for
the produce of the country, and is blessed, or the reverse, by the
presence of all the foreign representatives. As soon as the farce,
which, under the name of “Conference,” is about to be enacted at Madrid
comes to a conclusion, the affairs of Marocco will not be long in
appearing prominently before the world; and the foreign powers who sit
like vultures, expectant, over the last throes of the victim, will take
counsel together as to who is to possess the dainty portion of the
carcase represented by the town, of which a brief historical sketch has
here been given.
[Illustration: ARAB SCRIBE AND HAIM SECSU.]
Apart from the official dignity of our approach to Tangier in a
Government ship, there was a practical advantage, which will be readily
admitted by any one who has arrived there in the ill-found and
uncomfortable steamers from Gibraltar. The only substitute for the
long-vanished mole is a rickety wooden pier running some 150 feet into
the sea; on this it is possible to land at high-water, though even then
it is a risky operation with an east wind and sea coming in upon the
shore; at low-water, however, the boats can only get within a certain
distance of the beach, and thither a crowd of lightly clad and yelling
natives run out to meet the passengers. After a free fight has taken
place over the person of their trembling burthen, the latter finds him
or her self hoisted on to a pair of bare and slippery shoulders, to
preserve equilibrium on which it is necessary to cling to the smooth
shaven head which appertains to them. Cutaneous diseases being, however,
rife in Marocco, it is only the absolute certainty of a ducking which
overcomes the squeamishness of the traveller in availing himself of such
a scorbutic _point d’appui_, which he is glad to relinquish, and to jump
upon the sandy shore as soon as the _trajet_ is accomplished.
Fortunately, none of these trials awaited us, as a large lifeboat
belonging to the Custom-house came alongside and took both us and our
goods ashore; the interpreter of the Legation, Haïm Secsú, being ready
with a number of mules to carry up the luggage to its different
destinations.
It is a favourite pastime of certain European Powers, whose dealings
with Marocco will hardly bear a close inspection, but who hope to
increase their influence by a display of force, to anchor large vessels
of war off the town of Tangier, a nautical manœuvre[1] which will, they
fondly imagine, strike terror into the heart of the Moor. At present
there are two Italian ironclads in the bay, the aggregate tonnage of
which is doubtless expected to add weight to the counsels of Italy in
the approaching Conference. Properly speaking, the Italians should have
about the smallest voice in these negotiations; their trade with Marocco
is almost _nil_, and the number of Moorish subjects legally under their
protection does not exceed ten; upon their “list,” however, and off it,
there will be found an army of not less than one hundred, all of them
ready to prostrate themselves before the representative of Italy, and to
hail his presence with the adulation and servility so gratifying to the
senses of some functionaries.
Rooms having been taken in various hotels for the members of the
Mission, their baggage was conveyed there on the backs of Moors and
other animals. With the scientific instruments and my own personal
effects (the latter a by no means contemptible pile, His Excellency’s
remarks on which I rather dreaded), I came to the Legation, where a room
had been kept for me, and where I met another passenger for Fez, Lord
Zouche, who had just come out from England to swell the Envoy’s train.
Before sunset we tried from the roof of the house to communicate with
the signal station at Gibraltar by means of the heliograph, but a slight
haze rested upon the rock, and there were, unfortunately, no means of
replying to us.[2] It is expected that after the Sultan has seen the
apparatus, and been convinced of its harmlessness, he will allow one to
be put up here, so that a system of signalling may be established with
Gibraltar.
In the evening some of us went to a ball to which the Italian minister
had kindly invited us; the warriors of the ironclads had also been
bidden to meet the beauty and fashion of Tangier, and poured, to the
number of about forty, into a small and already overcrowded room.
Dancing was rather a muscular effort, but what struck us strangers with
astonishment was the extraordinary action of one of the sailors, who
officiated as master of the ceremonies during a kind of country dance,
and who certainly took care that no want of vocal power should be
allowed to mar his part in the entertainment. Gliding about among the
couples, he shouted his orders to them in a voice he would have used in
hailing a man at the main-truck, and which, coming up with considerable
exertion from the region of his boots, found an exit at the corner of
his mouth, whence it issued in a continuous stream, drowning music,
conversation, and all other sounds in one mighty roar. What rendered a
naturally discordant voice even more disagreeable was the harsh and
infamous accent of the French in which his directions were given; and it
must have been a relief to all when the last order was pumped up to the
surface, and the shout of “Messieurs, saluez vos dames,” proclaimed that
for the time, at all events, the functions of Boanerges might be laid
aside. Zouche and I made our escape home as soon as we decently could,
but my feeling about that son of Italy is such that I felt bound to note
down the above remarks in my diary before turning in, with impressions
fresh on my mind, and his terrible voice still ringing in my ears.
_Camp, Kaa er Remel, Saturday, 3d April 1880._
Sleep in my room at the Legation became a matter of difficulty at an
unconscionably early hour this morning, owing to the lane in front of
the house being filled with camels and mules, each remonstrating after
its kind against the loads which were being imposed; while the equally
intelligible yells of the Moors inside the courtyard, where each of them
shouted separate orders at the top of his voice, kept up a chorus of
sound that was deafening and continuous. All lesser noises, however,
were eclipsed about 9 A.M. by His Excellency, who, appearing on the
scene like Jupiter Tonans, desired, in choicest Arabic, to know why some
order relating to the luncheon-tent had been neglected. My knowledge of
other Oriental languages enables me to testify to the great facility
they afford for the powerful expression of thought, and the dead silence
which followed the fluently delivered utterances of the Envoy, leads me
to believe that Arabic is no exception to the rule. Breakfast in the
quiet dining-room at the back of the Legation was a relief after the
Babel that was going on in front, and a certain interest attached to the
last meal we were likely to have for some time under a solid roof,
accompanied by the luxuries of real china and silver forks;
electro-plate, and metal cups and saucers lined with white enamel, being
the fashion for camp work.
Everything at last was got under way, and a rendezvous for the scattered
members of the Mission having been appointed in the market-place outside
the town, they assembled there and waited for His Excellency.
The military escort, which had arrived from Fez about three days before,
was drawn up in an open space at the foot of the principal street, and
as close as practicable to the door of the Legation. It consisted of
fifty men, wild-looking fellows, mounted on stout serviceable little
horses, under command of their kaïd,[3] and included a standard-bearer,
who rode a grey horse and carried in his hand the red banner of Marocco.
I saw several well-known faces in the square—Mr. Benatár, the Jew
dealer, who only expects 100 per cent on his Fez wares, now offering
them at a slightly lower figure, as we were _en route_ to that city
ourselves; and Hadj Kadór, the popular and, I believe, excellent guide
to travellers, offering to “personally conduct” us all, escort and Envoy
included, into the interior and back again, then wishing us, in his
sepulchral voice, “Good-bye, gentlemens; hope you enjine (enjoy)
yourselves at Fez, gentlemens.” One day this same Kadór was showing
Colonel Macpherson of my regiment and me the 30-ton guns recently bought
by the Sultan, and on our remarking, “What on earth is the good of these
guns to you? you can’t even mount them!” he rather aptly
replied—“English gentlemens buys Moorish curiosities; our Sultan he buy
English curiosities—all fair, all fair.”
The main street was crowded with people, and the hill on which the
market-place stands presented an unusually animated appearance. Not only
were the natives assembled there in large numbers, but all the foreign
legations and consulates had put in an appearance, and with the English
visitors from “Bruzeaud’s,” the “French,” and other hotels, had taken up
their position on the road to see the sight, and bid God-speed to the
“Bashador” and suite. His Excellency was not long in making his
appearance, with the red flag borne a few yards in front of him, and the
escort, led by the kaïd, about the same distance behind. The members of
the Mission, and a few friends who were to ride out to luncheon with us,
tailed in as well as the crowding of the mob and the fighting of the
horses would permit; and amid the buzzing of the Moors, and a hearty
English cheer from the few throats which were capable of giving one, the
cortége moved on “majestueusement fermé,” as a French newspaper
afterwards described it, “par une litière,” which was carried on poles
like a sedan chair between two mules, one in front and one behind, and
in which Lady Hay was to accomplish the long and tedious journey to Fez.
Among other attentions on his part, the Sultan had sent four horses for
Sir John’s use, upon which he mounted the Gibraltar contingent. One of
these, a large white horse, as we got to a narrow bit of road a little
way on, “went for” the horse nearest to him, and being pulled in, reared
straight on end, falling backwards, with his rider, Haynes, apparently
under him. It was as ugly a fall as could be seen, and no one could get
near to help him on account of the fighting propensities of the horses.
However, much to our surprise and gratification, both horse and rider
picked themselves up, apparently none the worse, though how the latter
escaped was one of those things no fellow can understand. I think some
of us were a little saddened by the accident, as, being on strange
mounts, no one knew whose turn might come next.
About five miles along the road we came to the luncheon-tent pitched on
a small hill to the right, where, after an excellent repast, we said
good-bye to our friends, who had come to see us so far, and after a
further march of an hour and a half arrived at this our first camping
place. The name Kaa er Remel, or Sandy Bottom, describes the nature of
the soil. The camp is pitched on a high plateau, presenting, with its
thirty-five tents, an imposing appearance. The flag of Marocco is furled
on arrival, its place being taken by a large Union Jack planted in front
of the Bashador’s tent. We were all much gratified, before turning in
to-night, to hear that the gun—the signal for us to get up in the
morning—is to be fired at seven A.M. to-morrow instead of six; and long,
we hope, may this modification of arrangements remain in force. We
crossed the Mharhar at Meshráa[4] el Sejra, just before getting into
camp, and the distance marched was about twelve miles.
_Camp, Hadd el Gharbía, Sunday, 4th April 1880._
The camp at Kaa er Remel was too noisy after six A.M. to allow of any
sleep; horses neighing for their breakfast (absolutely yelling for it,
some of them), and Moors shouting at the top of their voices, in tones
which make one think they are about to cut one another’s throats on the
spot, were enough to banish the dull god. But apart from all this was
the disturbing idea that His Excellency would not hesitate to carry out
his threat of striking the tent over the head of any member of the
Mission who did not show some signs of vitality and movement very soon
after seven A.M. The “photographer,” too, had declared himself ready to
do a picture by the instantaneous process of any one whose tent being
thus summarily removed might be discovered in his bath, or in any other
delicate position in which it would be equally unsuitable to be
perpetuated. We breakfasted comfortably at 8.15, mounted, and left camp
about nine, in advance of most of the baggage animals. The road for some
time passed over level ground and fertile plains, where wheeled
vehicles, were there such things in the country, could travel in safety,
till, at the end of four miles, we came to the foot of a pretty steep
hill, where a halt of a few minutes was called to get the escort
together, and to allow of Lady Hay mounting her mule—a more secure
method of progression, over rough and broken ground, than the litter. Up
the winding, stony path, sometimes two abreast, and sometimes in Indian
file, the party slowly advanced, the deep red of the ensign of the
standard-bearer hardly showing in contrast with the rich colour of the
sandstone track which glowed warmly in the light of the morning sun. A
very impassive functionary is this same advanced trooper, never varying
his pace, and never stopping save at the desire of His Excellency,
conveyed through the venerable kaïd; his flag, always about twenty yards
ahead, looks like a red phantom, the pursuit of which, for about five
hours, has been allotted to us all for our daily task. From the top of
this hill, which we are told is almost our last before reaching Fez,[5]
the view was as beautiful as it was extensive. Below and behind us was
the fertile valley of the Wad el Mharhar, which we crossed yesterday;
away to the east towered the mountains which separate the Province of
Tangier from the Rif country—that mysterious district, peopled by a
handsome and warlike race, whose homicidal propensities render it
impossible for any strangers, especially Europeans, to set foot therein
with any chance of return. On the west were the woods which skirt the
Awára territory, kept sacred to the wild boar and his pursuers, foremost
among whom ranks the veteran sportsman under whose auspices we are about
to enter the (to us) unknown tracts between here and the sacred city.
Beyond Awára, again, was the wide Atlantic, whose waters, though
apparently smooth as a mill-pond, were rolling in their waves of
“perpetual surf” upon the sandy shore.[6]
At 10.30 we arrived at Nzala el Gharbía, where our luncheon tent had
been pitched; el Gharbía is the name of the district we are in, and
Nzala signifies a “guard” or “guardhouse.” There are many of these
enclosures in the country for the use of people with droves of cattle or
caravans of merchandise, who, on payment of a small sum to the
custodians, are allowed to camp in them at night in comparative safety
from the attacks of any neighbouring robbers. A small detachment of
stalwart Arabs, armed with long guns, was drawn up to receive us, but no
further demonstration in our honour was made. While strolling round the
village later on I heard, proceeding from one of the tents, a low,
wailing sound, with occasional hysterical sobs at regular intervals; and
though, of course, I could not satisfy my curiosity at the time, I
learned afterwards that there had been a death in the house, and the
relatives were holding a kind of wake over the departed. We resumed our
march about two o’clock, but our standard-bearer took us a long round,
having missed the shortest road in consequence of no deputation having
been sent out to show us where the camp was pitched. The Sheikh of the
village, on being sent for to explain this apparent neglect, and also to
account for some rough usage one of the grooms had received at the hands
of a villager, protested his innocence, saying that since nearly all the
people of the place were under the protection of one foreign consul or
another, it was out of his power either to provide an escort or to
execute justice on evil-doers. Though the Sheikh no doubt slightly
exaggerated the facts, his statement was in the main true enough, and is
only one instance among many of the evils which this system produces,
ending, as it must inevitably do, in the total stagnation of the native
administration of law and justice.
A large “sôk” or fair was being held in the neighbourhood, the chief
object of interest to strangers being a professional bleeder, who sat
outside his ragged little tent with a semicircle of patients in front of
him waiting their turn to be operated upon in the following manner:—A
small incision having been made somewhere behind the ear, a
cupping-glass, or rather tin, was applied, filled and emptied three or
four times, and the contents poured into a rapidly filling pool by the
doctor’s side. The patient then deposited a small coin with the
operator, and his place was taken by another. This practice of
blood-letting is almost universal among the country people, who imagine
that the removal of an ounce or two of extra blood before the hot season
commences will render them less liable to be affected by the heat of the
sun; as most of them go about not only bare-headed, but with their
crowns closely shaven, no doubt some cooling process of this sort is
necessary. The little scars caused by the above process, and which many
of our servants bear on the back of the neck, had always been a puzzle
to me; for though the Moor’s head is generally a mass of cicatrices,
there is a certain form and regularity about these others which attracts
one’s attention, and I am glad to have discovered their cause.
This camping ground is beautifully situated—sandy soil, high ground, and
a magnificent view from it. There is a spring, too, with excellent
water, not very far off, but the hard and fast rule that all our
drinking water should be boiled first and filtered afterwards, is always
kept in force, however attractive the outward appearance of the element
may be.
Our “photographer,” who galloped into camp before us, took a view of the
cortége, as it appeared coming to a halt before we dismounted; but owing
to the escort not being properly closed into focus—the whole affair only
occupying a few seconds—the effect is not as imposing as it might have
been. On the right of the picture are the figures of two curious-looking
people, who, like all the other natives, were quite ignorant of what was
going on; the one on the mule, wholly enveloped in his haïk, or flowing
white robe, with his head-gear twisted into the shape of an old wife’s
mutch, is Sir John’s Arab scribe, a most intelligent and hard-working
old gentleman. Every evening after our arrival in camp he may be seen,
through the open door of His Excellency’s tent, squatted on the ground,
absorbed in writing to his master’s dictation. He has been this road
before, and is, I am sure, full of information which I would gladly
extract, could he speak anything but his own barbarous tongue. The other
figure of the old man in a skull-cap, seated on a pony, is that of one
Ben Shittim, a Moorish Jew, and the headman of the village of Azîla,
who, with his son, an extraordinary specimen of humanity in European
costume, and who could speak Spanish, had ridden over to pay his
respects to the Bashador.
[Illustration: ARRIVAL AT HADD EL GHARBÍA.]
A line of tents, seven in number, a quarter of a mile off, attracted my
attention, and, hearing it was Colonel Gordon-Cumming’s party, I walked
over there before dinner with Zouche. They are _en route_ to Rbat,
having halted here for Sunday, an ensample of godliness of which we have
not been guilty; His Excellency, however, put his veto on the use of the
gun to-day, though he stood his ground under fire from the photographer,
and would not have objected to the heliographers taking shots at each
other from opposite hills, had those officers possessed sufficient
energy to unpack their instruments for a little practice. Science,
however, like cleanliness, is a nearer approach to godliness than is
quail shooting.
We all visited the site of the ancient Roman town of Ad Mercuri—at least
what we were encouraged to believe was such—but which would have been
more interesting had the outlines not been wholly concealed by a heavy
crop of barley. I am sorry, however, that we had no time to prosecute
our researches, for I believe that on the eastern and western
extremities of the plateau on which we stood, the _enceinte_ of the town
and a wall in good preservation are clearly marked; whereas the huts and
gardens of the Dshar[7] Jedid entirely hid the line of the ramparts in
this direction. The beautifully clear spring above mentioned, which is
partly surmounted by a massive stone arch, said to be the work of the
Portuguese, was another object of interest we visited. Our archæological
studies were, however, interrupted by signs of approaching night (we
have no twilight to speak of in these latitudes), warning us that
dinner-time was near. This same hour of dinner bids fair to be a not
unimportant part of the day’s programme, for the Israelitish chef,
Judico, is a master hand at field-cookery, so that his endeavours, and
our appetites together, form a pleasing and successful combination.
His Holiness, the Sharíf of Wazan, High Priest of Marocco and all
Northern Africa, who, with his attendants, has come out here to join in
a boar-hunt we hope to have on Wednesday, is camped close by.
Wild flowers seem to be more abundant the farther we get into the
interior, my tent being carpeted to-night with a luxuriant crop of wild
mignonette, which, I suppose, is the ordinary “Reseda odorata,” though
the scent is not so strong as the garden species at home. This plant is
indigenous to Marocco, and was taken long ago from here to France, where
it was christened “Mignonette,” and in 1742 made its first appearance in
England. The weather is still charming, but the sun is, of course, daily
gaining power, and our complexions are beginning to suffer
proportionately. A nightly application of glycerine, which I have
already begun, will, I hope, mitigate my sufferings, though, as former
experience teaches me, it is not a becoming cosmetic, but induces, in
time, a complexion like that of the Bengali Bábú. Beasts and creeping
things, too, are on the increase; and, as I write, I hear enormous
beetles, attracted by the light in my tent, hurling themselves with
suicidal force against the walls.
The distance we marched to-day was about ten miles.
[Illustration: SID AHMED BEN ALI.]
CHAPTER II.
Tomb of Síd Ahmed ben Ali—Megalithic remains at Mzorah—“Lab el
barôd”—“Mona”—Extortion by Europeans—“Matamors”—Sharíf of
Wazan—Boar-hunt—Camp servants.
_Camp, Síd el Yemáni, 6th April 1880._
The morning clouds at Hadd el Gharbía, though low and threatening,
luckily did not develop into rain, but served rather to intensify the
rays of the sun, which for the first time “nipped” one uncomfortably.
The camp was in motion at 8.30, and after traversing a beautiful plain,
many miles in extent, rich in pasture and barley crops, we crossed the
River Aïsha, and ascending a slight incline halted near the tomb of a
saint, Síd Ahmed ben Ali. The tomb, in passing which the standard-bearer
reverently lowered his flag, is said to be tended with great care, and
to be highly finished inside; it is in a thick grove of olive trees, but
into those sacred precincts of the holy man’s last resting place, we
were, of course, not allowed to penetrate. The luncheon-tent had been
pitched half a mile farther on, on the top of a bare hill, the only good
point in the situation selected being a glorious view; as, however, this
would not have compensated for the discomfort of remaining three or four
hours under a blazing sun, with nothing but a sheet of canvas between us
and it, we had the carpets and cushions brought back to a clump of trees
near the olive grove, where, with the aid of books, papers, &c., we made
a pleasant and cool halt. The photographer had, in the meantime,
unperceived by us, stolen off and taken a picture of the scene, in which
we, unconsciously, formed the foreground. It is difficult to get a Moor
to sit for his portrait, the laws of the Koran strictly forbidding it;
but in this picture poor Hamído, the Moorish boy, is caught with his
back towards the camera, washing up dishes in an attitude, the
ungracefulness of which will, I fear, be displeasing to the Prophet. At
three P.M. the word “To horse” was given, and we continued the march. A
short way on we made a slight _détour_ from the track to visit some
remains attributed to ancient sun-worshippers. The style of these
extraordinary monoliths is somewhat similar to those of Stonehenge, and
they belong, possibly, to the same period. Only one large stone remains
standing, the others lie around like fallen giants—strange and
inexplicable remnants of a prehistoric age. I did not count the number
of those on the ground, but in 1831 Sir Arthur Brooke tells us he found
ninety of various sizes.[8] Of course since then many of the smaller
have been removed for building, and the rapid growth of the underwood
may have concealed others. The upright one is of great height—over
twenty feet, I should say—as may be seen by comparison with the figure
of the Moor who is innocently standing at the base. A much larger block
than this is lying on the ground, where, to judge by appearance, it must
have rested a long time. The natives do not attempt any explanation of
the presence of these marvellous relics of an early creed, but they look
upon the place with a kind of religious awe—as a sort of “burning
bush”—and for the second or third time to-day our flag was reverently
lowered as we approached the spot. Rohlfs, the plucky German renegade
who made such an extraordinary tour through the country, erroneously
describes the place as two leagues from Wazan, instead of about ten, as
it really is; though this error would be lessened if it is German
leagues that are meant. He states, too, that the villagers made
considerable objections to his going near the spot at all. In our
inspection we found no difficulty, but doubtless a strong party of six
or eight Europeans with an escort of fifty cavalry would go far to allay
their religious prejudices. The native name of the place is El Úted, or
Mzorah, the former word signifying a peg or column, the latter a place
of worship.
[Illustration: MONOLITHIC REMAINS AT MZORAH.]
Yesterday, for the first time since we started, we were received with
military honours[9]—lab el barôd, &c.; and aided by the nature of the
ground, the scene was striking and picturesque in the extreme. On the
top of a hill, a few miles from here, we found the brother of the
Governor of Azîla awaiting us with a body of about sixty horsemen. They
were drawn up in two ranks on our left hand, armed with long guns,
which, in the distance, had all the appearance of lances. After the
Governor had exchanged courteous greetings with Sir John and our kaïd
the two escorts mingled together in our rear, and we rode on till the
ground in front opened out into a valley with smooth turf at the bottom
and low hills on either side. Here the “powder play” began; the
spectators, consisting of ourselves and part of the escorts, rode slowly
along one side of the slope; while the remainder, together with a number
of villagers who had come out to see the fun, moved parallel with us on
the opposite side. Over the flat ground between us thunder the five or
six horsemen who take part in the performance; in perfect line they
move, twirling their long guns in graceful movements round their heads,
often throwing them high in the air and catching them again as they come
down. Usually the rider in the centre holds his up horizontally, as if
for the others, to use a military term, to “dress by.” At a given signal
the guns are all discharged, or ought to be, as the riders dash past the
individual they specially wish to honour. On this occasion, for some
reason or other, most of them missed fire, so to those of us to whom the
performance was new it was less effective than it might have been. The
most striking part of the “lab el barôd,” however, is the utter
recklessness and _abandon_ which the riders display. With their loose
and graceful robes flowing far behind them in the breeze, they tear
along at the fullest speed they can extract from their unfortunate
horses, whose gory sides betoken the means taken to urge them to it.
Allowing the reins to lie perfectly loose upon the animals’ necks, they
pick them up when the charge is over, and wheel round to join their
comrades again. There is often some delay in the start, and the final
signal is never given till the starter has got them away well together.
A single horseman is sometimes left behind, but this, it seems, is not
the result of accident, but because his horse is either too fast or too
slow for his comrades, and would consequently spoil the order of
advance; this cavalier, however, makes up for his tardy start by
following at full speed, and going through the wildest contortions as he
tears along in rear of the others; now he is aiming his long gun at a
foe in front; now he turns right round in his saddle, and points it at
one behind; lastly, with a loud yell of “Allah,” he discharges it into
the ground, and reining up his panting steed, rejoins the others, while
another set take their place, and the sport is continued.
Just in front of our tents there is a flat piece of ground, and on it
the performance was carried on till dusk, much to the delight of the
camp-followers and natives, and to the extreme delectation of my own and
Sir John’s English servants.
About five P.M. a deputation of the inhabitants of the village waited on
His Excellency, bringing with them the “mona,” or supply of food, &c.,
which the inhabitants of each district through which we pass are bound
to provide daily for the camp. The word “mona” is given in the
dictionary as “provision,” but is almost solely used to express this
involuntary offering of the villagers, which has to be made not only to
magnates like ourselves, but to every native official travelling through
the country.
Yesterday it consisted of eight sheep, about one hundred eggs, a lot of
poultry, candles, sugar, and sundries.
In the case, too, of private individuals, or foreigners travelling with
the authority and under the protection of the Sultan, this custom is
always observed. It is a heavy tax on the wretched people, and on the
present occasion His Excellency fought hard against it, asking to be
allowed to frank himself and the members of his party by paying for the
supplies provided. This proposal, however, the Moorish authorities would
not entertain, the utmost concession they would make being that only
what was absolutely required for consumption should be furnished, and
that the cost of the amount to the natives should be deducted from the
taxes levied this year upon the districts in question—a liberal decree,
which, though it may no doubt be issued by the Sultan, is not likely to
benefit any of his subjects except the heads of districts whose business
it is to levy the taxes. Strict measures have been taken by Sir John to
prevent oppression and peculation on the part of his own native headmen
and servants, and he has therefore reduced to a minimum the usual
plundering of the villagers _en route_ by these worthies, who would
render the march through the country of so large a party more like the
advance of a horde of licensed robbers than the peaceable progress of
the Mission of a friendly power. Well would it be for European prestige
in this Empire of Marocco if such humane and thoughtful precautions were
enforced by representatives of other nations who visit the court of the
Sultan; our ears would not then be made to tingle by tales of violence
and extortion, consonant enough with Moorish ideas, but hardly to be
expected from the delegate of a nation which boasts a high rank in the
civilised world. On a late occasion, between this and Tangier, not only
was a “mona” of much larger amount than necessary extorted from the
people, the surplus being sold or sent back to Tangier to stock the
larder of those left behind, but money also was demanded from the poor
villagers by these pioneers of European civilisation, under the threat
of reporting the headmen unfavourably to the Marocco Government. Such,
at all events, are the stories,[10] supported by evidence which seems
disagreeably strong, told us about our fellow Christians; so one can
hardly complain that the people hate the sight even of a European, or
that the term Nasráni (Christian) continues to be the vilest word of
abuse in the Moorish vocabulary.
I wish I had been actively inclined last night, and had sat down to
write before turning in to bed, an operation performed with extra gusto
through knowing that this article of furniture would still be in the
same place to-night owing to our two days’ halt. Having got as far as
this, however, I may as well record how we spent our “day of _rest_”
here, though my nerves are at this moment a good deal shaken by the
chorus of dogs outside, who, by the row they are making, seem determined
to take the camp by storm.
In the first place, we were threatened with a 6.30 A.M. breakfast, which
mercifully resolved itself into a pretty liberal 7.30 ditto; and
secondly, the hunting-ground, within two miles of which our camp ought
to have been pitched, turned out to be a good twelve. This mistake of
Hadj Hamed’s, the man in charge of our camping arrangements, seemed
inexplicable to the authorities, to whom it did not occur that the
gentle Moor might have friends in the village of Síd el Yemáni, whereas
he could have none among the unclean animals near to whose haunts we had
hoped to find ourselves located. However, there was very little sun, the
ride was a pretty one, and as our breakfasts began to shake down, our
tempers improved. Before we had got very far, by-the-bye, both my temper
and breakfast narrowly escaped two most severe shakings. The first was
on this wise:—I had lagged behind, and got a little way off the track
for the purpose of botanising (we are trying to assist Miss Hay in
collecting for Sir Joseph Hooker),[11] when suddenly, on the hillside, I
found myself among some mysterious holes of apparently great depth, and
cut in a regular manner. The diameter of the orifices was only about two
feet; but, on looking down into them, they seemed of considerable depth
and extent below the surface, and there was water at the bottom. They
were cut too near each other to admit of turning with safety, so I had
to push on. My horse was rather frightened, as was also his rider; but,
threading our way between the pitfalls, we emerged safe on the farther
side. Shortly after this delivery from the danger of being buried alive
with my horse in the hollowed hillside, I was riding along a path
overhanging a watercourse about twenty feet below, when, the ground
being rotten, it gave way under the animal’s hind-feet, and he was left
clinging, like a bat to a wall, by his forelegs. Before, however, I had
had time to consider how to extricate myself from this fresh peril, he
recovered himself, climbing up in an agile and cat-like manner, and for
the next few hours death ceased to stare me in the face.
On enquiry into the use of the holes which cost me such a _mauvais quart
d’heure_, I learned that they were granaries, or “matamors,” where these
unsophisticated people store their grain, covering over the top with
grass, &c., so as to conceal its whereabouts from robbers, or from too
great curiosity on the part of the State collectors. In the meantime it
invariably rots or throws out sprouts, in either case becoming
unserviceable—a clear case of wrapping their talent in a napkin, and, in
this instance, in a style of napkin wholly unsuited to the preservation
of such a talent. Of course the unsettled state of the country, and the
cost of carriage, throw difficulties in the way of selling large
quantities of grain; but their indolence of disposition, and the fact of
their ancestors having carried on this practice for the last thousand
years, are in reality at the bottom of the continuance of this custom.
The advantage which would accrue to the State from the establishment of
a proper system of communication between the chief towns was
practically, but vainly, exemplified during the late famine; for while
barley in Tangier was selling at 85 “ounces” per mond (about equal to
one and three-fifths of an English bushel), and in Marocco at 50, the
cost in Fez was only 15 “ounces;” if, then, roads and wheeled vehicles
had existed, prices throughout the country would have been equalized.
The hunting-ground, where we arrived at last, was a very
promising-looking covert, quite rideable for those of us who were
provided with spears, and was covered with low myrtle and lentisk
bushes. The latter, soaked with dew, and then scorched with the heat of
the morning sun, seemed to give out even more than their usual strong
aromatic scent, which resembles that of a bruised leaf of the true
pistachio, and which resemblance has probably procured for its congener,
the lentiscus, the appellation of “wild pistachio.”
The Sharíf of Wazan, who passed us at our last camp, had come out in two
marches from Tangier to join the hunt, and was already on the ground. In
Marocco, and all along the north coast of Africa, this personage is as
well known as is the Pope in Rome; but as at home his very existence is
almost unknown, I may as well mention a few facts concerning him.
He is one of the true Sharífs, or direct descendants of the Prophet, and
the position he occupies here is second only to that of the Sultan. Some
years ago he married an Englishwoman resident in Tangier, by whom he has
two pretty little boys, one of whom will probably succeed him in office.
This heretical alliance, which at first rather startled the weak nerves
of the faithful, has, wonderful to say, done little or nothing to shake
permanently the allegiance of his flock, over whom his influence and
power are paramount. His father, the late Sharíf of Wazan, was a
remarkable old man in his way, and enjoyed a great reputation for
sanctity. On one occasion, when water was very scarce in the district,
and the land, dried up and parched, threatened the people with a failure
of their crops, he is said to have been equally fortunate with Moses of
old in producing water from a rock, and the stream that he evoked flows
to this day “to witness if I lie.” He had, among other wives, a dusky
consort from the interior, gifted with all the cunning of her race, who
was mother of the present Sharíf. When the old man on his death-bed was
asked, as is the custom, to nominate his successor, he replied, “That
son of mine who, at my death, which is close at hand, shall be found in
possession of my stick.” This remark, being overheard by the
above-mentioned lady, she secreted the stick among her son’s things,
where it was found on his father’s demise the following morning. As the
present Sharíf is in the enjoyment of excellent health, and as his
memoir hereafter will probably be written by an abler pen than mine, it
would be impertinent in me to dilate upon his virtues, or to dwell at
any length upon the characteristics of so eminent a person.
There were rather more than the usual number of Moors armed with long
guns, and at the first beat, on a boar being set on foot, the discharge
of firearms and whistling of bullets was alarming; the next beat was
tedious and badly arranged, so I dismounted and composed myself to sleep
under a lentisk bush. After this came luncheon—by far the best part of
the day’s sport—then two more uninteresting beats on the side of a
precipice where one could neither ride nor walk, and so home, about ten
weary miles, all of us more or less tired and out of humour. The natives
make capital beaters, which helps to keep up the excitement even on a
blank day. The “halúf,” or wild boar, is their hereditary foe; and
Addison, writing in 1671, tells us how the “Morocco gentry, when
disposed to sport, ... hunt and kill the wild boars, who are no rarity
in this diocese, the land affording habitations most suitable to such
unsociable beings.” I think these Moorish horses have some malformation
of the stomach, as my girths are always slipping out of place, rendering
the tenure of one’s saddle and one’s seat alike uncertain.
Unfortunately, too, I have no breastplate, and climbing up a steep bank
to-day the saddle slipped back over the animal’s hind-quarters, landing
me on my head. The horse bolted into the wood, and by the time they
caught him had kicked off a stirrup and my waterproof coat, which was
strapped on the saddle in front of me. The former was picked up, but the
latter is, alas! a thing of the past; unless, indeed, it is being
utilised to protect some native from the rain, which is at present
pouring in torrents.
We are likely to be well served during our pilgrimage, a circumstance
which adds greatly to one’s comfort on these occasions, and from Hadj
Hamed the “Quarter-Master-General” of the camp down to the “boy Hamído,”
who washes up the dishes, they all seem a willing and obliging lot. Most
of them belong to His Excellency’s private establishment, but one or two
outsiders have been hired for the occasion; among these is one
“Boomgheis,” who is a historical character, having accompanied Captain
and Mrs. Colvile in their adventurous tour, and having obtained
“honourable mention” from that gallant author. Some months ago, at the
British Legation, Tangier, Boomgheis had been called in as an extra
hand, the house being full, and one of His Excellency’s guests asked me
if I knew his antecedents, as the face seemed so familiar to him. I was
ignorant then of Boomgheis’s history, but, as we were passing the jail
one day, the shaggy head of a prisoner was thrust through the grating to
beg for money. “Now,” exclaimed my companion, “I remember where I made
Boomgheis’s acquaintance first;” and, sure enough, it was during his
incarceration there, on a charge of murder,[12] that the striking
features of his protruding head had fixed themselves on my friend’s
recollection. On occasions of emergency, masters and servants alike
shout for him, as he is always to the fore. He speaks an extraordinary
dialect intended for English, in which he carries on long conversations
with my servant, though the talk is all on his own side. I notice that
in calling to a Moor, it is usual to insert the interjection “Oh” or
“Wah” before his name; while, if he is a stranger, instead of “answering
to ‘Hi!’ or any loud cry,” as in England, he will always attend to you
if addressed as “Muhammed;” in fact, it stands a good chance of actually
being his name, as one child in each family, generally the eldest, is
called after the Prophet. Allarbi and Hadj Ali, both brothers of Hadj
Hamed, are important functionaries in camp, the former being a sort of
_aide-de-camp_ to his brother, and the latter, a murderous-looking
ruffian, is, with his son, Abd er Rahman, a handsome youth, the personal
superintendent of Lady Hay’s litter. There are also two “scorpions,” or
natives of Gibraltar, among our retinue, one of them filling the
important post of valet to Sir John’s _khalífa_.[13] When not employed
in cursing each other, they are usually singing Spanish songs of a
questionable character, or making night hideous with quaint oaths and
other expletives learned by contact with the British soldier. I at first
thought the title of khalífa more distinguished than it is; but finding
that the assistants of Judico, the cook, and Muhammed, the kaïd of the
muleteers, are both styled khalífa, I feel less respect for the
appellation.
[Illustration: ALLARBI, HADJ-ALI, HADJ-HAMED, AND ABD-ER-RAHMAN.]
My servant, Norton, who has a friend and companion in Sir John’s English
attendant, George, seems favourably impressed with the country, though a
little nervous at the prospect of falling in with lions, which Boomgheis
assures him we shall hear roaring a march or two farther inland. I only
hope the king of beasts will not be of the proportions described in the
account of this district in the sixteenth century by Leo Africanus, to
whom a friend writes that he “brought out of Barbarie a lyon’s skin,
which, from the snowte to the top of the taile, contayned one and
twentie feete in length.”[14] In addition to the above staff are Selám
Hajút, the butler, and the “boy Hamído,” who washes the dishes, and
rides on the camel that carries the luncheon. He does not hit it off
well with Boomgheis, and when we hear more yelling than usual at night,
we are told it is “Boomgheis flogging Hamído.” Lastly, I must mention
Miss Hay’s groom, Muhammed, an extraordinarily active youth, whom, from
his zeal in bringing in botanical specimens, we have honoured with the
patronymic of “Dr. Hooker.”
CHAPTER III.
Flat country—Practice at Heliographing—Cold nights—Roadside
sacrifice—View of El Araish—Saints and lunatics—Reception at
Alcazar—Musicians—Town of Alcazar—“Kohl”—Sultan el Mansor—Battles of
Alarcos and Alcazar—Compounding a felony.
_Camp, outside Alcazar,
Thursday, 8th April 1880._
We seem to be leaving the pretty country behind us the farther inland we
get, and our road after leaving Síd el Yemáni, through the Fahs er
Rihán, or Plain of Myrtles, was flat and monotonous. If, however, not so
much to our taste as the hills and woods near the coast, it was fully
appreciated by our provincial escort as affording endless opportunity
for the exercise of lab el barôd, with which we have been indulged _ad
nauseam_ for two days.
Yesterday one of them nearly suffered in an unexpected manner from his
devotion to this pastime. He was the soldier in charge of the
luncheon-tent, and, instead of pitching it in a pretty little wood about
eight miles on the road, as he was specially ordered, went on four miles
farther into the flat sandy plain, at a place called Ghadda. We were all
furious, as there was neither shade nor water, and the old kaïd, sharing
our feelings, ordered him out for instant bastinado, which would have
been carried into effect but for Sir John’s interference in his behalf.
I think, in secret, however, we all regretted this reprieve, being
anxious to see the performance of the operation. After lunch on that day
I left the main body early, and cantered on into the next camp—El
Hamáya—unpacked the heliographs, which had just come in with the tents,
and sent one back on a mule to meet the column, getting mine, in the
meantime, to bear on the luncheon-tent, and flashing to my colleague
there what I had done. My messenger met the whole procession coming
along, and they halted with much solemnity to watch the proceedings. As
soon as we got the instruments aligned on each other, a message came
from the kaïd to “tell his servant to prepare hot water for his tea on
arrival.” I gave the message at once, and it made a great impression on
the kaïd when he rode into camp two hours later; but he evidently
suspects that through my instrumentality his servant has become leagued
with Satan, from whom he is convinced—so he told Sir John at the
time—that all these inventions emanate.
The camp at El Hamáya was prettily situated on a small sandy hill, with
the River Machassen, muddy, but full of excellent fish, flowing round
its base; the cold there at night seemed intense, and most of the party
wore their greatcoats at dinner. In the drawing-room tent in the evening
I sat playing chess in a big ulster and a rug over my knees, and even
then could not keep warm. One advantage of this severity of the weather
at night is that the Moors’ tongues seem to get frozen up, and
consequently the camp enjoys perfect quiet from after dark till the gun
fires in the morning.
His Excellency’s progress through the country is a great opportunity for
unfortunate victims of native tyranny to bring their complaints before
him, and one of their methods of attracting attention, which we noticed
to-day, is very singular. In the earlier part of the march we came
across the newly slaughtered body of a sheep with its throat cut, and
the blood flowing across the path. About twenty yards off sat its owner,
watching if any notice would be taken. Unfortunately, in this instance,
nothing could be done; we were approaching a large town, and had
attention or redress been extended to the poor man, the whole road
to-morrow might have been strewn with petitions and sacrifices, their
innocent blood pleading for inquiry.
The early morning sun shining on some white minarets and towers about
twelve miles off to the north-west, caused a dispute among the
authorities as to what town it was; eventually it was decided to be El
Araish; and as we think of returning home by the sea-coast, I daresay I
shall be able by and bye to describe the place.
The vast plain we rode across after leaving El Hamáya this morning was
beautifully green with barley and long rich grass, a pleasant thing for
scorched and aching eyes to rest upon. We seem now to have entered upon
a succession of enormous plains, bounded at a distance of six or seven
miles by moderately high mountains, but open on the west towards the
sea, which is about fifteen miles distant. At the foot of the hill, and
just off our track as we left camp, sat a holy man, half saint and half
madman, most scantily clad, and very dirty. He had a bit of sacking
spread in front of him, upon which most of the escort chucked a coin _en
passant_. In this country lunacy is regarded as a manifestation of
divine favour, God having taken the fortunate person’s reason into His
own keeping, to be restored to him hereafter in better case than had the
original proprietor been in continual possession of it; the Prophet,
too, specially commends the person of the lunatic to the good offices of
the faithful.
Our El Araish escort leave us to-morrow. When first they joined us at
Síd el Yemáni, they mustered about a hundred strong, but have now
dwindled down to fifty, His Excellency having dispensed with the
attendance of those to whom absence from home may be inconvenient. These
men are a kind of _landwehr_, or rather yeomanry, fine-looking fellows,
with well-appointed horses, and are bound to turn out on the shortest
notice from the chief of the district. Among those who are left is one
very picturesque youth with a dark bronze-coloured face set off by a
bright purple _jeláb_, or cloak, the hood of which, usually drawn up
over his head, gets blown back as he dashes past on his dark gray horse
in the lab el barôd, in which exercise he is a proficient. We shall miss
him to-morrow when the escort is changed on the frontier of this
province, as the bright colours he affects, and the striking expression
of his face, render him a distinguishing feature of the troop.
As we approached Alcazar this afternoon, after surveying it all the
morning from our luncheon-tent on a hill three miles off, preparations
for our reception became apparent. A small line of horsemen under the
acting kaïd of the place, and behind them a motley crowd of townspeople,
with last, but not least, in point of noise, the most indefatigable band
I ever heard, were assembled about half a mile from our camping-ground,
and accompanied us thither. As we proceeded the powder-play became fast
and furious; the riders rushing past us _ventre à terre_, with a yell
discharging their guns almost into our faces, while improvised crackers
were let off among our horses’ legs; all this, combined with the noise
of the _music_ (save the mark!), contributed greatly in the eyes and
ears of the populace to our successful entry. Arrived here, we took
refuge in our tents, while the spectators formed a large semicircle in
front, at one corner of which the musicians, prominent among whom were
two trumpeters, continued their performance with ever-increasing vigour.
Never shall I forget the faces of those two minstrels as, seated on
their thin, scraggy ponies, they blew an almost uninterrupted blast to
the delight of the crowd, and to our great and increasing wonderment;
their very souls seemed to go out into their instruments, while their
cheeks on either side were distended to such a degree, that they
resembled, both in size and appearance, ordinary bladders. We were
beginning, like the natives, to grow fascinated with the sight and
sound, when an order emanated from the tent of His Excellency, who was
busy writing despatches, for the concert to cease, and the performers
having been remunerated for their pains, the band moved off, the
trumpets braying loudly to the last.
As soon as our minds were sufficiently composed after the above musical
treat, we sallied forth to inspect the town about a quarter-of-a-mile
off; the party was “personally conducted” by our head interpreter, an
obese Israelite, whose good-nature is only equalled by his obtuseness,
and whom we have christened Tweedledum, while his colleague, who is his
counterpart in every way, is named Tweedledee. They are both Moorish
Jews, and the former seemed to have a large circle of acquaintance among
his fellow-believers in this town. He took us into the house of a
wealthy Jewess, who, after taking us up to the roof—from whence we had
an excellent view of Alcazar and its environs—regaled us with
sweetmeats, washed down by a thick luscious sort of wine, which, though
strong and heavy, was not unpleasant. The house was large and airy, the
top being open to the sky, but it was dirty and untidy, and the whole
quarter where the Jews lived filthy to the last degree. We took rather a
fancy to the town of Alcazar, with its quaint old Sôk or market-place,
and its winding main street roofed in by a trellis-work of vines. Here
we were followed by an eager and inquisitive, though quite civil and
good-humoured crowd, who manifested the keenest interest in the few
purchases made by the infidels. Among these were some mysterious-looking
little bits of cane, hollowed out, and containing a fine black powder
called _kohl_, a preparation of antimony, which is highly recommended by
the natives as a cure for inflamed eyes. Whether its fame is justly
acquired or not I shall know better hereafter, having submitted to a
plentiful application of it myself this evening at the hands of one of
the Moors, my eyes having bothered me considerably for the last day or
two in consequence of a couple of hours’ practice at too short a
distance with the heliographs. Their manner of applying the kohl is with
a stick the size of a knitting-needle, which, being damped, is dipped
into the powder, then drawn gently along between the eyelids, which are
closed upon it.
[Illustration: OUTER WALL OF ALCAZAR.]
As we are not accustomed yet to wading through miry and narrow streets
with an escort of soldiers keeping off the crowds by a free application
of their sticks, we were glad once more to get out of the good town of
Alcazar, beyond the gates of which none of the people followed us. It is
difficult to estimate the population of a town of this sort, and
travellers have variously put it at from 5000 to 30,000. In a
conversation I had with a rather intelligent Jew, who could talk a
little French, and who attached himself to us in the town, I learnt that
his estimate was 12,000, including 1700 Jews, which numbers I should
think were pretty near the mark. It has evidently been a place of
considerable importance in bygone ages, and the open ground to the
north, where we are encamped, shows many traces of ancient walls and
large buildings. The place is said to have been founded by Yakúb el
Mansor (the Victorious) in the twelfth century, in gratitude for shelter
accorded to him by a poor fisherman, when he had lost his way and got
benighted out hunting. This romance, however, falls to the ground before
the evidence of Edrisi and El Bekri, the latter of whom, living before
El Mansor’s time, speaks of the place, under the name of Sôk Kotáma, as
a “large and magnificent town.”[15] It was in the reign of this Sultan
that the giralda and mosque in Seville were built, as a record of his
victory over Alonzo of Castile at Alarcos, where a fabulous number of
Christians are said to have been killed, A.D. 1109. We passed to-day,
near the Wad el Machassen, the site of another and more recent battle
disastrous to the Nazarenes—that, namely, of Alcazar—where the King of
Portugal, coming from Azîla, a small village on the coast, was totally
defeated by the Moorish monarch, just three hundred years ago, and,
together with many adventurous spirits who had come from all parts of
Christendom to share his triumph, perished on the field of battle.
Windhus,[16] who passed through this country in 1721, writes that the
“Portuguese dispersed in the battle could not believe their king was
slain, but ran up and down crying ‘Onde este el Rey?’ The Moors often
hearing the word _rey_, which in Arabick signifies ‘good sense,’ told
them that if they had any _rey_ they had never come thither.” For many
years they believed Don Sebastian was still alive, and over his tomb
near Lisbon may be read the doubting epitaph, “Hic jacet in tumulo, _si
fama est vera_, Sebastes.”
This afternoon, as we were sitting at tea in the drawing-room tent, a
deputation of three of the headmen of the district waited on His
Excellency on behalf of a robber chief who was in jail in the town, and
in whose release they were interested. Some six months ago he and his
band had seized on a camel laden with grain, belonging to one Allarbi, a
servant of Sir John’s, and chief of the boar-hunters, whom he employs;
and in addition to the loss of the grain, the camel had died, the
robbers having over-driven it in their anxiety to escape from Allarbi
and some of his fellow-hunters, who had speedily put themselves on the
track. The robbery had taken place in a wood through which we passed
to-day, and the delinquents had been closely followed and overtaken, but
the grain was gone and the camel dead. The total loss to Allarbi was one
hundred and twenty dollars, but he had agreed to take ninety. The robber
had been in confinement ever since, but, owing to his interest with the
authorities of Alcazar, his case had not been sent up for the decision
of the Sultan, who would probably have inflicted a heavy fine, and
imprisonment till it was paid, to say nothing of a little flogging and
torture by way of expediting matters. He now offered seventy dollars if
he might be released, which sum the deputation had with them; and it was
curious to watch the eager argument of the three men, handsome and
intelligent-looking old fellows, as they pressed His Excellency to
accept the compensation, their expressive gestures and significant looks
enabling one almost to understand their pleadings. Allarbi was not
present, but at the door of the tent stood his brother Hadj Hamed, also
a retainer of Sir John’s, and in chief charge of all our camp
establishment. He being pretty well acquainted with the administration
of justice in the country, and knowing that if the case went up to the
Sultan his brother’s pecuniary satisfaction would be small, added his
word of advice to the arguments that were going on inside the tent; so
that eventually the compromise was accepted, and, the money having been
counted out, the deputation withdrew, evidently much delighted with the
success of their negotiation.
CHAPTER IV.
Romans and Portuguese—Fording the Wad el Kús—El Ma
Bared—Chess-playing—Land tortoises—Changing escorts—Kaïd
of Ben Aouda—Quail shooting—Entertainment at
Habassi—Poison—Kuskussú—Solitude of plains—Thunder-storm—Irregular
protection.
_Kariya el Habassi,
Sunday, 11th April 1880._
We left Alcazar on Friday morning, halting a night at Kariya ben Aouda,
and arriving yesterday at this place, where we have been detained by the
heavy rains.
The immediate neighbourhood of Alcazar must be the last resting-place of
many holy men, judging from the fact that the standard of Marocco never
once raised its head till we were well away from the precincts of the
city. One síd house or Kúbba[17] in particular, at the foot of the slope
where we encamped, was noticeable both for its unusual size and the care
bestowed upon its exterior. From the town to the place where we forded
the Wad el Kús, about one mile, there is a broad paved road, the only
one I have seen in the country. It is said to have been made by the
Portuguese; but, as the Moors aver that Alcazar never fell into their
hands, I do not see how this could be, unless it was the work of
Portuguese prisoners, who may have been captured by Moors during some of
the incursions made by the former while in possession of Azîla. This
theory, too (“a poor thing, but mine own”), would account for many of
the ruins near Alcazar, which have the appearance of Roman remains, but
are in too good repair to have formed part of the _Oppidum Novum_ of the
ancients. M. Tissot, whose small but useful pamphlet[18] is never out of
our hands, says the town itself is partly built by stones which had been
used by the Romans, and this opinion also tends to confirm my theory.
Half an hour’s ride brought us to the banks of the Wad el Kús, the Lixus
of the ancients, a stream which the survivors of the expedition will
meet again at El Araish on the return journey. It is a wide, sluggish
river, and reached about up to our horses’ girths in fording it. The
banks on either side were high and steep, and the scene afforded by the
procession crossing was bright and picturesque in the extreme. The
narrow line of horsemen, preceded by the dark-red ensign, descended the
bank one by one, till, on reaching the river, they scattered out and
widened to six or eight abreast, then narrowed again into single file in
their ascent of the other bank, each one a perfect picture by himself,
forming a mass of colour, the contrast of which against the dusky banks
and sombre waters of the river was in a high degree striking and unique.
El Ma Bared (_Anglicé_, Cool Spring) was the name of the place at which
we halted for luncheon on Friday. The tent was pitched at the top of a
hill, the El Araish escort being picketed below, while our kaïd and his
troopers came up with us. I used to dislike these long mid-day halts;
but their convenience is manifest, as while we are resting, the whole
camp passes on, and, barring accidents, we find it ready pitched and
settled at about 4 P.M., when we arrive on the new ground. At first,
too, we had not got into the swing of the thing, and could devise no
method but food and sleep by which to while away the time; now, with the
assistance of “books, and work, and healthful play,” the hours pass
pleasantly by. Old Kaïd Ali, the commander of our permanent Fez escort,
often comes in to play chess with Haynes, and though unable to speak a
word of anything but Arabic, is an adept at the game. During our halt at
El Ma Bared he dropped in, attended by his son, who belongs to the
troop, and, I fancy, is a sort of aide-de-camp to his father. He was
exceedingly friendly and _prévenant_, going the round of every one in
the tent, and insisting on shaking hands; he then sat down beside his
military superior, to whom he offered advice at intervals during the
game. There seem to be one or two differences between the kaïd’s play
and ours, but I am not clear that he did not try a little
sleight-of-hand occasionally, and when detected attribute it to the
eccentricities of the Moorish method.[19] His arrival was shortly
followed by that of his servant, bearing a dish of hot meat and some
bread intended for our consumption. Although it wanted only an hour to
our own mid-day meal, His Excellency sternly insisted on our all
partaking of it, which operation was effected by the simple process of
dipping in our finger and thumb, and with the aid of a piece of bread
extracting a morsel of the savoury mess. As soon as the Envoy thought we
had taken sufficient to strengthen the friendly relations between
England and Marocco, the rest was sent out to the servants (native), and
a few cups of the kaïd’s Moorish tea washed down what we had taken, and
prepared our interiors for our own luncheon.
While strolling about to get up an appetite for the latter meal I came
upon a tortoise, of which there are a great many about, and intending to
present it to Judico, the cook, to try his art upon, turned it on its
back to await my return. In this, however, I was disappointed, as when I
came back it had decamped, thereby depriving us of a dish of terrapin,
and upsetting at the same time my ideas on the customs and habits of the
tortoise. I fancy, however, that the ones we see in such quantities are
of the genus _Testudo_, and not of that of the edible _Emydæ_, which
latter are found chiefly in North America, and are there considered a
great dainty.
An hour’s ride, still over gently undulating country, brought us to the
confines of the province of El Araish, a fact which was brought to our
notice by hearing a gun fired some little distance ahead and out of
sight. At this signal our provincial escort formed themselves in order
of battle, throwing out flank files, and advancing to meet an imaginary
foe. When the two tribes providing the escorts are not on good terms,
this mimic warfare is dispensed with, the old escort retiring before
coming in contact with the new. As soon as the two troops sighted each
other the lab el barôd began, small parties galloping out from either
side, discharging their guns into each other’s faces, and then retiring
to rejoin their own side. As soon as the red standard hove in sight with
the Envoy on his white Arab close behind, the two escorts formed into a
long line in two ranks on the left of the road, the old one nearest us
on the right, the new one supplied by the Province of Seffian on the
left. The kaïd of the latter then rode out and saluted Sir John, shaking
hands cordially, and repeating over and over again the words, “Marhaba
bík, marhaba bík, Bashador” (Welcome, welcome, Ambassador). His
Excellency then turning round to the El Araish escort, bade their kaïd
and his officers farewell, and we continued our march under the wing of
our new protectors, who wheeled up out of line and fell in behind us. As
we stopped to look at some of the new-comers beginning the usual lab el
barôd, I happened to turn round to see whether the old escort were going
away; but lo and behold! not a man of them was to be seen. As I
understand this habit of mysteriously disappearing into the earth is
peculiar to these people, I shall keep my eyes open on the next occasion
of our changing escort; and if this manœuvre is repeated, shall inform
the kaïd, through the medium of Tweedledee, that I consider such
practices far more closely connected with the Evil One[20] than the
science of Heliography, which I am about to assist in introducing into
Marocco.
Our encampment at Ben Aouda was a very picturesque one, on a rising
ground near a small village, with a curious grass plot, about an acre in
extent, closely hedged in by the highest prickly pears I ever saw. Below
us, to our front, lay the immense plain we had been traversing, the part
nearest to us being sown with rice and barley, the chirping of the quail
amongst which induced some of us to take a stroll after them with our
guns, but our exertions were poorly rewarded.
It seems that the kaïd of the escort which met us between Alcazar and
Ben Aouda was not the governor of Ben Aouda himself, as that potentate
is away fighting near Wazan; and I am sorry not to have seen him, as he
is said to be _par excellence_ the greatest tyrant and scoundrel amongst
all the governors in these parts. He extorts more money from his people
than any of them, and by crueller means; and it is whispered that a
hundred prisoners are rotting in some disused _matamors_ in the side of
the hill not two miles from where we were encamped.
The rain pattering down on the tent within a foot of my nose awoke me
yesterday in our Ben Aouda camp, where, as the spot was a pretty one and
promised sport, we had hoped for a halt on account of the change of
weather. Beyond, however, giving us half an hour’s law for breakfast, no
advantage accrued therefrom. Even had the rain not delayed us here a
second night, a halt would have been necessary before we got to Fez;
because, at our present rate of travelling, we should have reached that
city on Friday, which the Sultan would not have allowed, as that day is
kept, to a certain extent, holy, as the Mussulman Sabbath.
It was so cool and pleasant as we left Ben Aouda that White and I took
our guns and pursued quail and duck on foot, while the rest of the
cavalcade proceeded on their way here. Two little boys from a hut close
by accompanied us part of the way, and were very useful in picking up
our dead birds, which they did with as much accuracy as a well-trained
retriever, being amply rewarded for their labours by the gift of our
empty cartridge cases. Part of the forenoon we followed the course of a
tributary of the Méda, the water of which was deep, with overhanging
banks. Our horses were led behind us by the grooms, and W.’s man taking
his too near the edge, the ground gave way, and the horse, falling on
his back in the river, had to swim some distance before he could get
out. A few minutes after this episode one of us shot a duck, which fell
on the opposite bank. We were rather at a loss how to get him; but my
groom, quietly removing his only garment, swam across, retrieved the
duck, and brought it to us. Just as we had expended our last cartridges,
the rain, which had held off till then, came down in torrents,
accompanied by such blasts of wind, that we could hardly stand against
it. We got on our horses, but mine positively declined to advance till
the storm had somewhat abated, turning his back to the weather, from
which position neither whip nor spur would move him.
Eventually we got on the track, and, passing through a collection of
wretched huts, where the inhabitants turned out and pelted us with mud,
arrived wet and cold at the luncheon-tent, which the rest of the party
had reached just before the rain commenced, and, dry and comfortable,
remonstrated in vain at the introduction of our dripping persons among
them. The people of the village near brought us an offering of milk and
honey—a large jar of each—also a great dish of steaming hot cakes, large
round confections of flour and water, like “scones,” but covered with
grease of some description. If eaten hot, with the addition of some
honey, they are excessively good. The milk, which forms part of the
daily _mona_, is excellent, and the butter fresh and good, but rather
tasteless; the latter quality is a great fault in the eyes of native
epicures, who like a strong flavour in all articles of food, and for
this purpose place the butter in earthen pots and bury it for months,
and even years, by which process it becomes “fit for use.”
Kariya el Habassi, near to which we are encamped, is the only collection
of habitations we have yet seen worthy the name of village. I give, as
is due, the title of town to Alcazar; it consists of several windowless
houses of the usual staring white Moorish style, besides a considerable
number of tents and huts. Among the former is the kaïd’s house, to which
we were all bidden yesterday afternoon to tea. The kaïd himself is away
fighting, and as his son is too young and too shy to assume the
government, a nephew of the great man reigns in his stead. By this
functionary we were received in the village and conducted through his
garden gate, which was then closed to keep out the little crowd which
had gathered round and followed us. Our host led us through some
whitewashed courts, up a few steps, on to the terrace on which the house
was built, and into an airy apartment looking on to a grove of
orange-trees in full blossom. The side through which we entered was
almost wholly taken up by a large Moorish archway of the invariable
horseshoe form, without doors, but with a thick curtain, or _portière_,
which could be drawn across in cold weather. Opposite the entrance was a
retired alcove, raised a step above the floor, and reaching to the
ceiling; in it was spread a mattress covered with some light-coloured
material, and the floor of the room all round the sides was similarly
furnished. Here the members of the Mission reclined, not in the graceful
cross-legged fashion of our entertainers, but in the more constrained
and undignified positions in which Europeans are wont to take their
ease. On a chair in the centre sat His Excellency, and at his feet the
nephew and representative of the absentee governor. He is an immensely
stout youth, with a massive though not unintelligent face, and a loud
and rather harsh voice, which became a little fatiguing in the two
hours’ conversation which he had with Sir John, and not a word of which
we could understand. The monotony of the _séance_ was, however, broken
by the appearance of a slave with a brass tray, on which were a pretty
set of French teacups, and a few small tumblers to supplement their
number. He was followed by another, bringing in two silver teapots, some
enormous lumps of sugar, and a box of tea. This apparatus being placed
in front of the young kaïd, he proceeded to brew the national beverage
as follows:—Of the tea—a fine green kind, for which they pay up to four
dollars a pound—he put a large handful into each teapot, then added, for
the purpose of washing it, a little hot water, which was immediately
poured out and thrown away; several of the big lumps of sugar were then
put in, the teapot filled up with boiling water, and the mixture was
ready. Our host, having tasted a little himself (to show it was not
poisoned), filled all the cups, which were handed round by slaves, while
others brought trays of biscuits and sweetmeats, which they offered us
between their finger and thumb. The second and third brews were varied,
respectively, by freshly gathered leaves of wild thyme and verbena. The
flavour is rather pleasant, and grows upon one—a merciful dispensation
of Providence, as the operation is one which will have to be frequently
undergone before we set foot again in Europe. Neither milk nor cream is
ever used, and, in fact, would form a very nasty addition, as I found
out by experiment. It is not thought good manners to strike work before
the third cup is disposed of, after which the wretched Christian may
relapse into a spectator, the Moors continuing _ad libitum_. The custom
of putting poison in tea, and so getting rid of an enemy, has been and
is said to be still so common in Marocco, that this practice of tasting
to which I alluded is never by any chance omitted—at all events, in the
higher circles of society. The idea of poison seems, in fact, always
present to their mind. The late Grand Vizier, Síd Músa, who died last
year, carried his scruples even farther, and when any guest of eminence
took tea with him, he not only tasted it, as usual, beforehand, but only
allowed his guest to drink half a cup at a time, finishing the rest
himself.
A far more trying form of hospitality than tea-drinking is having to
partake to excess of the native dish called _kuskussú_, which is made up
of very coarse-grained flour, boiled, underneath which is some stewed or
roasted meat. It has been in vogue here for centuries, and is described
by Leo, about A.D. 1500, as “made of a lump of Dow, first set upon the
fire in a vessel full of holes, and afterwards tempered with butter and
Pottage.” The preparation is by no means a bad one, though embarrassing
when it has to be eaten with fingers instead of forks, and is all very
well if one is hungry; but as it forms an inevitable accompaniment to a
visit of ceremony at any Moorish house, it is difficult sometimes to get
up an appetite equal to the occasion. Yesterday, at the kaïd’s, we
flattered ourselves we had escaped, but just as we got up to go away, in
came the attendants with a large wooden tray in the form of a sieve,
upon which, hot and savoury, and covered by a tall conical erection,
like a bee-hive, was the dish of kuskussú. His Excellency, reading the
looks of despair depicted on our faces, came generously to the rescue.
He saw that we were unequal to the task, and, bringing into play that
talent for diplomacy for which he is justly renowned, explained to the
kaïd that British stomachs were not as Moorish ones, and that having
largely partaken of the hospitality of the villagers where we halted for
luncheon, not to mention that our evening meal awaited us in camp, we
could not, without much personal inconvenience, and even absolute risk,
do justice to the good things set before us. To our great relief the
kaïd accepted the apology like a true gentleman, and the dish being
removed, was placed, at His Excellency’s request, before the guests in
the verandah, who, though comprising the headmen of the village, and old
Kaïd Ali, the commander of our permanent escort, were not considered
eligible, unless at the special request of the ambassador, to sit in the
same room with Her Majesty’s representative.
Throughout the whole interview I was specially struck with the perfectly
natural and unembarrassed demeanour of our host, who dispensed his
hospitalities, and kept up a lively conversation with Sir John, as if
the entertainment of a party of Europeans—of whom he admitted he had
seen very few before—was an everyday occurrence. It was the first time I
had been brought into close contact with any of the upper ten of
Marocco; but on all subsequent occasions—and they have been many—the
above peculiarity was always brought pleasantly before one; and
uncivilised as doubtless they are, according to our acceptation of the
term, I will always maintain that a Moor of the higher ranks is as good
a specimen of one of “nature’s gentlemen” as one can wish to see.
Before we took leave of our host, he asked Sir John if the doctor would
mind seeing and prescribing for an old friend of his, who had some
affection of the eyes, from which he had been suffering for some years;
our good-natured Esculapius having expressed his willingness to do what
he could, the patient was brought in, and the doctor, after looking at
him, conveyed to the kaïd—His Excellency acting as interpreter—his
opinion of the case. It was painful to observe the keen and anxious
expression of the old man’s face, as, fixing his almost sightless eyes
on the ambassador, he leant eagerly forward, waiting for the doctor’s
verdict. “Can the Nazarene cure me? When shall I be well?” he asked,
with querulous and shaking voice. “If you follow the doctor’s advice,”
said Sir John, “after some months your sight may improve.” The old man
was by no means satisfied, and feeling sure, as they all do, that the
doctor could cure him then and there if he chose, complained bitterly of
the hardship of his case, to which His Excellency replied, “Our religion
teaches us that it is the wisdom of God which deprives us one by one of
our senses and enjoyments as we get on in years, so that at last we hail
the approach of death as the advent of a friend.”
I do not know if the individual to whom this discourse was addressed,
and who must have touched the threescore-and-ten period, though he
seemed tough for his years, much liked His Excellency’s logic; but it
entirely commended itself to the young kaïd, who looks as if he enjoyed
life, and who told Sir John that the precepts he had been advocating
were entirely in accordance with the maxims of the Prophet as laid down
in the Koran.
[Illustration: CAMP AT HABASSI. A “DAY OF REST.”]
The clouds had come very low down over our camp by the time we got back,
and distant claps of thunder and violent gusts of wind betokened the
coming storm; a heavy shower was falling as our impromptu gong—a
frying-pan belaboured with an iron spoon—summoned us to dinner, causing
us to bolt from our own to the dining-room tent like rabbits into a
warren. Trenches were dug round all the tents in the evening, pegs and
ropes looked to, and every preparation made for the deluge which came
down on us later on.
We were all glad of the two days’ halt we have had here, though it might
have been made in a livelier spot than the middle of this dreary plain,
which, with the rain pouring down on it, more resembles the sea than dry
land. There is a small lake about three miles off, round which some of
us wandered with our guns to-day. The solitude of these vast tracts of
country is very impressive; we ride for miles and miles without seeing a
living soul, or any human habitation, except sometimes on the horizon a
brown mushroom-like excrescence, betokening the presence of an Arab
tent. There is a general absence, also, of animal life; for, owing to
the late famine and consequent destitution, the country-people have
either parted with or eaten all their stock. The absence of large game,
too, is surprising, and that it existed here formerly there is no doubt,
for we are told that “diuers noble romanes in Morisco used, in the
vacation season from warres, to hunt lions, liberdes, and such other
bestis fierce and sauage;” but, quaintly continues this writer, “All
myghty God be thanked in this realme (England) be no suche cruel bestis
to be pursued.”[21]
The night’s rest of some of the party was disturbed a good deal by the
thunder and lightning, the flashes illuminating one’s tent through the
wet canvas in a fitful, unpleasant manner, while the gale of wind which
accompanied them tried our tent-gear to the utmost, and made us
congratulate ourselves on the extra precautions we had taken overnight.
The morning was dark and gloomy, and the sheets of water descending at 9
A.M. made some of us late for breakfast. While standing in the tent door
watching the dismal prospect before us, the air suddenly became darkened
in a curious degree, and while we waited wonderingly to see what was
going to happen, a flash of fire which dazzled our eyes was accompanied
by so terrible a clap of thunder bursting over the camp, that we all
felt for the moment literally stunned. The sensation was of a heavily
shotted gun being discharged inside the tent behind us, both as regards
the sharpness and intensity of the report, and also on account of a kind
of concussion of the air and vibration of the ground which accompanied
the explosion. It was not only ourselves who were startled, for the
Moors who were squatting on the lee side of the tents for shelter came
running out, and the horses lying down where they were picketed jumped
to their feet with as puzzled an expression as their masters. It turned
out that neither man nor beast throughout the camp had suffered, except
from fright, but we all agreed that a few more such shocks would be the
ruin of our nervous systems.
It is lucky that the soil of this part of the plain of the Sebú is
sandy, or we should have suffered far greater discomfort from the two
days’ rain; as it is, we are well out of the picturesque but low-lying
camping-ground of last Friday at Ben Aouda, where we were anxious to
make a halt. The unfortunate night sentries are the most to be pitied;
huddled up in their white _jelábs_, and posted all round the camp, they
appeared, under the vivid flashes of lightning, like sacks deposited
here and there, from which emanated some monotonous song, by which they
strove to keep themselves awake through their weary watch. The sentries
were more numerous than usual, the people of the village knowing that if
any depredations should be made by the lawless tribe of Beni Hassan,
whose territory is just on the other side of the Sebú river, they would
be held responsible in purse and person for any loss we might sustain.
We have not passed any more roadside sacrifices since the one I
mentioned between El Hamáya and Alcazar, their absence being probably
due to the last one having remained unnoticed. The case to which it was
meant to draw attention was as follows, and seems another instance of
the evil of foreign protection, to which I before alluded:—A
French-protected Moor and an inhabitant of Alcazar were partners in
sheep-breeding. Their stock having increased to 600 head, the Sheikh of
the district ordered a tithe to be paid as taxes. This the protected
Moor declined to do, saying the whole of the sheep were his, and he was
not answerable to the Moorish authorities (whether his partner connived
or not at this arrangement did not appear); however, as the French, on
account of their high-handed tyranny, are held in great dread by the
Moors, no further action was taken; but when the Alcazári came to claim
his 300 sheep, of which he was willing to pay his tithe, the other,
denying the deed of partnership, refused to give them up. The Moorish
subject in vain applied for redress; his all had been taken from him,
and besides having nothing with which to propitiate the authorities, he
found them far too much afraid of the false representations which the
other threatened to make to his own Government to be inclined to take up
the case. Hence his silent appeal to the English Minister, who, even had
he taken up the matter, would hardly have been able to help the man in a
dispute with a subject of another power.
Lawless took a photograph of the camp, and also of the entrance to the
village. A number of children who gathered round the camera at once fled
when they heard from a soldier what was the nature of the instrument,
but Tweedledee, who was acting interpreter, having, with much composure,
told them the Christian was only making a picture of the sun, and that
if they sat very still they might watch the operation, they were
reassured, the result of which _finesse_ on Tweedledee’s part was that,
as they sat in a row, rapt in wonder, a very successful group was
executed.
The depressing effect of the wet we have undergone here was a little
dispelled by His Excellency producing some very good Chartreuse as a
_chasse café_ to-night after dinner, and under its cheering influence
finer weather is prognosticated for to-morrow.
[Illustration: GROUP OF ARABS AT HABASSI.]
CHAPTER V.
Kaïd of Habassi—Passage of Wad el Sebú—Arab women—Pigs and evil
spirits—Beni Hassan—Curiosity of villagers—Sick and blind—Sentries
at night—Illness or accident—Rain—Missing the road—Quitting the
plains—Síd Búbakr—Geographical difficulties—“Kúbbe”—Nomenclature of
villages—Famine—Foreign tyranny.
_Camp, Zeggota,
Wednesday, 14th April 1880._
Before the camp was struck at Habassi on Monday the tents had the
advantage of an hour’s hot sun, which, luckily for the poor mules,
effectually dried the canvas and lightened the loads. We had to start
punctually at 8.30, as the River Sebú (the Subur of Ptolemy) lay between
us and our next camp at Jum’a el Hawáfi, and we were warned that the
heavy rains might have made it difficult to cross. The kaïd of Habassi
accompanied us to the river, which forms the boundary of his territory.
He is the youth at whose house we had tea on the day of our arrival near
his village, and when the rain set in, he sent us a hospitable
invitation to consider ourselves his guests as long as we were detained
there. It seems that all expense incurred by our making extra halts, or
departing from the itinerary laid down by the Sultan, falls upon the
chief under whose protection we happen to be; so we were glad to get on
the march again and cease to be a burden to our host. He was mounted the
morning we left on a dun-coloured horse, with the ordinary high saddle
covered with green silk, the saddle-cloth being made of the same
material, and the reins and headstall of silk cord to match. He talked
on a variety of topics as he rode beside the Envoy, and France coming on
the _tapis_, was much surprised to hear that though England was the
smaller country of the two, the Queen had more Mohammedan subjects than
the Sultan of Marocco. He spoke about Napoleon, of whose fame he had
heard from the French, and his rather loose ideas on the subject of
Waterloo were probably derived from the same source. He was interested
at hearing now that we had been victors there, inquiring what was our
loss on that occasion. The pay and amount of rations given to our
soldiers he was very curious about, and I was glad to be able, through
the medium of His Excellency, to furnish him with accurate statistics.
An hour’s ride across the plain brought us to the river bank; the Wad el
Sebú at that point is a deep, muddy stream, more than a hundred yards
wide, flowing between clayey banks about thirty feet high, with a
considerable strip of mud between their base and the water. It looks as
if it could rise considerably in the rainy season; the current was
pretty strong, about three miles an hour, but not sufficiently so to
prevent the construction of a bridge of boats or pontoons, while its
whole course from the point where we crossed to its mouth at Mehdía
could quite well be navigated by steam barges with a small draught of
water; in fact, from what I can learn from the natives, the river must
be more or less navigable as far as Fas (Fez).
Our luncheon-tent had been sent across early, and on his own side of the
Sebú the kaïd had pitched his tent so as to superintend the transport of
ourselves and camp out of his district—an operation which occupied about
two hours. The largest of three rickety, flat-bottomed boats was ready
to take us across, and having said good-bye to the kaïd of Habassi, who
dismounted and accompanied His Excellency to the water’s edge, we
embarked. Our servants had done what they could, by covering the bottom
with straw and rushes, to dam up the water which surged from side to
side with every motion of the boat, and had concealed the wet planks we
sat on with rugs. Notwithstanding these precautions, a more casual and
apparently perilous means of conveyance for a personage of such
importance as the Envoy Extraordinary of Her Majesty, to say nothing of
his suite, can hardly be imagined. However, with a pious
“bismillah,”[22] His Excellency took his seat, and by the favour of the
Prophet and the strong arms of the half-naked savages who worked the
boat, we reached the other side in safety. The permanent escort and all
the camp were yet to follow, and from the top of the bank where our tent
was pitched we had a good view of the curious scene below us. Moors
yelling and shouting from the bank, from the boats, and even from the
river, across which many of them swam, and horses screaming after their
kind, formed the usual vocal accompaniment to any labour required of
them. How any of the latter animals emerged from the ordeal with
unbroken legs was a marvel. There being no gangway of any sort to enable
them to walk on board, the only alternative was to leap from the shore
into the bottom of the boat; some of them, after getting their forelegs
in, resolutely refused to follow up with the hind ones till they were
forcibly lifted off the ground and hustled into their place. Each boat
held about eight, and though they are inveterate fighters when on shore,
community of danger seemed to keep them quiet while afloat. The officers
of the escort, with their chief and the standard-bearer, came over
separately, the red flag being held aloft in the bow, while in the stern
sat the old kaïd, rapidly muttering prayers, as is his wont when not
engaged in conversation. We found the luncheon-tent pitched near a group
of half a dozen Arab tents, and though they were of a dirtier and more
wretched appearance than usual, the few inhabitants seemed to be
prosperous enough; some of the women, too, who came to stare at the
Christian who was strolling past their doors, wore very pretty silver
ornaments. As the owners seemed peaceably disposed, and there were no
men of the village near, I tried to make a bid for a small necklace
which adorned the person of a rather pretty girl, taking it up in my
hand and offering a couple of dollars to the owner. My intentions,
however, were misconstrued, and though their manner and gestures were
friendly in the extreme, I judged it advisable not to prosecute
acquaintance any farther. In the same village I was surprised to see a
couple of little black pigs disporting themselves, as I always imagined
the unclean animal was tabooed from the company of the true believer. On
enquiry, I find that the Moors, who are superstitious to the last
degree, imagine that the evil spirits who are busy among them prefer
making a tabernacle in the carcase of a pig to taking up their abode in
the bodies of the faithful. Of the two evils, therefore, they choose the
least, and suffer pigs gladly till they think they are full of devils,
when they drive them out into the woods, and replace them with a fresh
lot. Such, at all events, was the explanation of the little pigs’
presence as afforded me, through the interpreter, by a venerable Moor,
and on my remonstrating with him on his credulity, he not inaptly
remarked—“I am surprised at your disputing the possibility of such
things, as I have been told that one of the prodigies performed by your
prophet Aissa (Jesus) was causing evil spirits to leave the afflicted
ones, and live in swine.” The age of miracles, though past with us,
still continues in Marocco, and the simple-minded Moor fails to see why
such a state of things should have altered since the days of Christ, any
more than have his own style of dress or manner of life, which remain
precisely the same.
We left our halting place at 1.30, the last we saw of El Gharb, or the
Western Land, being the white tent of the kaïd of Habassi shining in the
sun, with his green-caparisoned horse and well-appointed escort waiting
to take him back to his little sovereignty, while the English Mission
moved onward into the robber land of the Beni Hassan.
This district has only lately been brought under a sort of _quasi_
subjection to the Sultan, and has long enjoyed an evil reputation for
being the hotbed of murder, theft, and other misdemeanours.
M. Tissot, who is now ambassador at Constantinople, lately visited this
province, and as he is an observant traveller, and concise in narrative,
I quote from his description of the people:—“Les Beni Ah’sen ont la
réputation meritée d’être d’incorrigibles pillards.... Sauvages et
inhospitaliers, ils ne laissent pénétrer personne sur leur
territoire.... Il y a trois mois à peine que, malgré la présence du
Sultan à R’ Bat, le harem du premier ministre a été pillé et égorgé par
les Beni Ah’sen, et que sept cents hommes, envoyés pour punir cet
attentat, ont été anéantis. L’Empereur lui-même n’a pu se frayer un
passage, à cette même époque, qu’en mitraillant ses indociles
sujets.”[23] His Excellency had read us this paragraph at luncheon,
omitting none of the horrid details, so it is not to be wondered at if
we cast back a longing eye to the friendly Habassi already disappearing
on the horizon, or if our hearts beat high at the prospect of meeting
the murderous hordes so graphically described by M. Tissot. And here I
must pay a humble tribute of thanks to that eminent diplomatist for the
valuable information contained in his pamphlet. It is always in
somebody’s hands, and has been our _vade mecum_ throughout our
wanderings. Curiously enough we had no other work on the country among
us, to which omission the thumbed and tattered condition of Tissot bears
ample testimony. “Poor Tissot! What would he say if he saw the condition
of his little book?” remarked a member of the Mission, not considering
that the said Tissot would take this evidence of appreciation as the
highest compliment we could pay him. It was therefore resolved to have
the pamphlet handsomely bound in its mean condition, and presented, when
our wanderings were over, to the talented author as a mark of our
gratitude for information derived therefrom.
The country seemed to change a little after leaving the Sebú, the Arab
encampments becoming more frequent, and cattle and cultivation a little
on the increase. After an hour’s ride we heard some firing ahead of us,
and presently came in sight of our new escort. They were, as usual,
drawn up in line, and their kaïd, advancing, welcomed the Envoy, but
with more constraint and less cordiality than the previous governors had
shown. A more wild and strange-looking lot than these Beni Hassan I had
never seen; and it was noticeable that, as they formed up in our rear,
the permanent escort did not mingle with them in the familiar manner in
which they treated other irregulars, having possibly formed part of the
force which the Sultan lately employed against this tribe. As they
defiled past us on either side to take up their position behind our
party, the thought forced itself upon me that, under any other
circumstances than the present, I should—and probably with the greatest
reason—have felt extremely ill at ease in such company. The sullen
expression, too, of these bronzed and bearded bandits, as they either
stared one in the face or kept their eyes fixed on the ground, seemed to
show that the wholesome restraint under which they temporarily found
themselves sat uneasily upon them. Till the warriors of Beni Hassan
performed it, we had never seen justice done to the game of lab el
barôd; their horses were better, and the gaudy but ragged riders were
more dexterous and reckless than any that had preceded them. By way of
showing us the uncertainty of human life, there was one, at least, among
the guns that had something in it more solid than powder only, as one
could easily tell by the report. Such accidents, however, might happen
from the method of keeping their powder, viz. loose in a leather bag at
their side, into which foreign substances of all sorts may easily find
their way. Into this bag they plunge their hands, then pour the contents
down the barrel, and ram the bullet home with an ill-fitting rod. To
extract the latter is often the work of four men, who pull and jerk at
either end quite unconscious of any danger of explosion. When we got
near our night’s camping ground at Jum’a el Hawáfi, these independent
yeomanry wheeled off to their own ground, where their kaïd’s tent and
two or three others were pitched, without, as is usual, accompanying the
Bashador to where he and his suite dismounted.
In the afternoon some hundreds of half-starved and miserable-looking
people from the district assembled close by to look on at the powder
play to which some of the Beni Hassan people treated them. I walked over
with Zouche, with two or three soldiers as escort, to see the battle,
and we were much amused at the sensation we created. Though more or less
civil and respectful, their undisguised curiosity and astonishment were
very funny to witness. They would look us all over from head to foot, as
if we were statues or stuffed specimens, and then turn away, many of
them covering up their faces to hide their amusement at our outlandish
appearance.
The civilian population are not half such fine-looking fellows as either
the __’askár__,[24] or the militia, out of whom our escorts are taken,
and disease of every form seems rife among them. A poor fellow at that
camp was brought to the doctor blind of one eye (as more than half the
population seem to be), and with little or no sight in the other. It was
a case which could have been successfully treated by a surgeon in a
hospital; but here, of course, without proper appliances, it was out of
the question to do anything, and the man went sadly away. The number of
halt and sick who come in hopes of treatment, and, as they all do, of
certain cure, is getting large. Their hesitating manner of coming, and
their dress—especially that of the Jews,—remind one of the people in old
Bible pictures, while their simple faith in the little that can be done
for them must be very like that of the multitudes who crowded round a
greater Physician eighteen centuries ago.
Our camp on the Sebú at Jum’a el Hawáfi was well protected with
sentries, the Beni Hassan kaïd’s son placing them himself at 9 P.M. at
intervals of about ten yards. So many were there that it seemed as
though almost every robber in Beni Hassan must have been employed, an
arrangement to which the camp, perhaps, owed its safety. A mounted
patrol rode round continuously, whacking the head of any unfortunate
sentry who did not show satisfactory symptoms of watchfulness, which
caused the poor wretches to keep up a regular chorus to keep themselves
awake; while a short way off, in the lines of the Beni Hassan escort,
the sound of music and revelry was heard till nearly daylight. We gave
some of them a treat about 11 _P.M._ The night was wet and dark, and
just as the mounted patrol were passing my tent Lawless and I emerged
with pieces of magnesium wire flaring in each hand. The effect was
magical, and flight instantaneous; gradually, however, they came back,
and one or two of the more courageous even took a bit in their hand and
held it while burning.
It has often been present to my mind what a serious matter it would be
if illness or accident of a severe nature overtook any Christian of the
party; the whole camp could not be delayed on one man’s account, and in
fact, in many places we have stopped at, supplies would not be
procurable, while the risk of remaining alone would be too great to be
contemplated. Yesterday morning I thought I was about to see the problem
of what was to be done with any such impotent Nazarene solved in my own
person, as I woke at 5 A.M. in great pain and hardly able to breathe;
the distemper, however, passed away in a few hours, and was pronounced
by the _medico_, whose aid I solicited at 7 A.M., to have been muscular
rheumatism. English servants are people who, under such circumstances as
ours, usually manage to get themselves laid up; I have warned mine (who,
with the exception of Sir John’s man, George, is the only one in camp)
of the futility of any such proceeding, and up to the present moment, at
all events, he has developed no threatening symptoms. It was raining so
hard that after striking the camp, and sending it on, we remained behind
in the drawing-room tent,—which, though leaky, was better than
nothing,—till after luncheon, when we rode straight through to our
destination, a place called Sbenats, near a Síd house[25] which marks
the boundary between the Provinces of Sherarda and Beni Hassan. It was
our last ride through those weary plains, whose alluvial soil makes them
bad camping ground during this wet weather. Since following the course
of the Sebú, the Arab dúars have been much more numerous, and at Sbenats
there were four or five of them, with as many as thirty or forty tents
in each, within a radius of two miles of us. The country on this, the
left side of the Sebú, is far more backward in crops than what we have
travelled through hitherto; and it is gratifying to learn that the heavy
rains we have had the last three days have been anxiously wished for,
and are now attributed to our interest and goodwill. After all the usual
methods of praying for rain have been exhausted, a curious and
characteristic plan is adopted. The Moors, wrapped up in their conceit,
imagine that all their prayers are pleasing to the Deity, and as music
in His ear; consequently, when these fail they “turn the Jews out of the
town, and bid them not return without rain, for they say though God
would not give them rain for their prayers, He will give the Jews rain
to be rid of their importunity, * * * * *”[26] Such, at all events, is
still the belief of the true Mussulman of Marocco, and you could as
easily shake that as you could the foundation of the mountain of
F’ilfal, which we see to-night towering in the distance.
It is curious how easily one misses the road on those flat trackless
plains we have left behind, and several of us having galloped on a long
way ahead yesterday, with the intention of getting into camp early,
found ourselves entirely at fault. The whole place seemed a dead level,
but no tents could be seen, or living being to act as guide. Far away
behind us we could just make out a dark shadow on the plain, moving
slowly along, and this we knew to be His Excellency, with the rest of
the party and escort. Looking at them from this distance the powder play
had a very pretty effect; every now and then one saw, detaching
themselves from the main body, little dark spots, from which, after they
had gone a short way, a small white cloud shot forth, but of course the
report which accompanied the smoke was inaudible. We had to wait about
ignominiously till they came up and put us again in the right direction,
and to bear as patiently as we might the taunts of our friends. In vain
we declared we had gone off in an easterly direction in pursuit of a
bustard; our wrong direction had been noticed, our hesitation remarked,
and our character as pioneers is gone.
[Illustration: A MID-DAY HALT. ON THE ROAD TO FEZ.]
It was a relief to quit the region of the plains this morning, and to
enter, after an hour’s ride, a narrow gorge which led us in to the
mountain range of Mulai Edris. Before leaving the plains we passed a
road which branched off to the right, and which Kaïd Ali told us led to
Mequinez, from which place and from Fez we are about equidistant. We had
luncheon to-day a little way off the track, or road as it may now almost
be called, the tent being pitched under a low cliff, among the shelving
rocks of which we found the most delightful shade. In the hillside were
several caves, so possibly this may be one of the districts mentioned in
the Periplus of Hanno as inhabited by Troglodytes or dwellers in caves.
A mysterious race they must have been, living more like beasts than men,
with no articulate language, but fierce, active, and “swifter than
horses.” Their treatment of the dead was far from reverent, for they
“bound the corpse neck and heel together, fixing it to a stake, and
pelting it amid shouts of laughter.” The only stirring events during our
halt were the chastisement, by the kaïd’s order, of one of the
soldiers—a very ill-looking fellow—for refusing to clear away stones
from the place where the tent was being pitched, and the other was the
arrival in camp of one Síd Búbakr, from Fez, an ally of Sir John’s, and
an office-bearer at the Court of Marocco. Destined as he is to be the
medium of communication between the ambassador and the Sultan, no one
fitter for the work could have been chosen; he is a man about fifty or
sixty, without a hair on his face, and is accounted here a person of
great intelligence. Having a large business of his own in the town of
Marocco, he has had in the course of his professional travels a good
deal of intercourse with Europeans, and has visited Spain and Gibraltar.
Report says he is in private a great smoker, and that he does not,
secretly, despise the juice of the grape. I could forgive both these
transgressions were he only able to express himself in anything but his
own barbarous tongue.
Our road after luncheon led through a succession of round grassy hills,
which reminded me of some parts of Peeblesshire, till after about an
hour and a half’s riding we turned off to the left, and, ascending a
hill, saw from the top our present camp on the other side, and about one
hundred feet below us. It was rather bad going for the horses crossing
the ridge, as the track passed over ledges of slippery rock which the
recent rains had left in a greasy state, and the animals had to hop from
one to the other after the manner of goats—a mode of progression which
was, fortunately, accomplished without accident.
Between 4 and 5 P.M. we got to the top; the sun was getting low in the
horizon behind us, and the view in front was varied and very beautiful.
At our feet lay an undulating and grassy plain, bounded on our left and
front, _i.e._ to the north and east, by range upon range of hills; on
our right hand the Jebel Silfat, in the Zarhún district, is high enough
to shut out any more distant hills, while on its slopes, and
picturesquely situated, were two villages, distant respectively about
seven and four miles. They appear to be built of gypsum, and without the
aid of a glass might, even at this short distance, easily be taken for
part of the rocky surface of the hillside. M. Tissot calls them in his
map Kheira and Beni Aamer; but after interrogating several natives on
the subject, I could not make out that they rejoiced in any other name
than that of the tribe which inhabits them, viz. the Beni Aamer. To make
a map of this country with any attempt at correct nomenclature would be
a thankless and heart-breaking task, as in many cases the inhabitants,
intelligent apparently otherwise, have no idea of the name of the
village in which they live. Often the name of a place, _e.g._ Kariya ben
Aouda, Kariya el Habassi, &c., is synonymous with the name of the family
in whose hands the governorship has been for one or two generations; but
should the kaïd’s family become extinct, or the office for any reason
pass out of their hands, the name of the village is changed, thus
forming a continual obstacle to the labours of the geographer. The
number of names, apparently of towns, which one sees in any map of
Marocco, make it appear to the uninitiated a thickly populated country,
the fact being that you may travel for days and even weeks together
without seeing anything in the shape of a town, the only symptom of
habitation being the dúars, or small collection of Arab tents, or
possibly a dshar, _i.e._ a group of huts or rough stone buildings; the
former denote the presence of the wandering Arabs, the latter that of
the Berbers, or original inhabitants of the country. The names, however,
which catch one’s eye in the map appertain to the Síd houses or tombs of
Saints, small white cupola-like buildings, called by the natives
“kúbba.” There are many of these kúbbe dotted about the country, and
they give their name to any village near them. Information of any sort
is hard to be obtained in this land of lies and subterfuges, but as
regards dates, their ignorance is _bonâ fide_, most of their
calculations being made relative to the date of the famine, or of the
last war with Spain or Portugal. If you ask a man his age, his answer is
probably, “I was such and such an age when the Spaniards took Tetuan
from us,” and so on. Hence it is difficult to know when any of the kúbbe
were built, especially as for neither love nor money could one get
inside to look for dates or inscriptions. The buildings seem made of
stone or plaster, and are square, with a small dome at the top, the
whole coated thickly with whitewash. Close round them are a few trees,
the only ones of any size in the country, and the place is looked after
and kept in repair by some descendants of the deceased occupant, who
receive contributions for the purpose from every right-minded traveller.
If in want of more funds, they stroll the country with a banner and one
or two instruments (I was nearly inserting the adjective musical), with
which they soon raise sufficient for their own and their deceased
relative’s requirements.
Besides the plans I mentioned for naming villages, there is another
which struck me as ingenious, viz. that of calling them after the day of
the week on which the market nearest to them is held, a practice which
prevails, I think, in Syria and parts of Egypt; _e.g._ the place where
we encamped some days ago near the Sebú was called Jum’a el Hawáfi, the
former word signifying Friday, the latter the name of the district; so
with Hadd el Gharbía, one of our first camps,—Hadd signifies Sunday, or
the “first day,” and El Gharbía the province. As the market day never
changes—at Alcazar, _e.g._, it has been held on a Monday since the time
of Leo Africanus, the Moorish historian of the fifteenth century—this
method has more of permanence in it than any other.
These markets are largely attended; besides live stock of various kinds,
grain and butcher meat, stuffs of native manufacture, &c., are sold in
great quantities.
The evening was stormy, and just before the sun went down below the hill
on the side of which our camp is pitched, the colouring and effect were
fine beyond description. A strange lurid light lit up the valley below
us, and the surrounding hills, while overhead masses of dark clouds
drove quickly past before the strong south-west wind. The two villages I
mentioned shone out exactly like patches of red fire against the dark
hillside, and the half of a rainbow which spanned the plain was changed
into the same colour, and reflected back the glory of the setting sun.
The scene was very impressive, and now that the sun had disappeared
behind the hill, the strong reflected light, striking upwards from
between the drifting clouds, made the distant ranges appear quite close
for a moment; then, as the sun sank lower, they again grew dim and far
away, the loftier tops shining out to the last against the darkening
background, and finally disappearing altogether, as the gloom of the
approaching night, which follows so close upon the daylight, came down
upon the landscape. The heat of the day had been excessive, and it
hardly needed the sound of distant thunder to warn us of the deluge that
was coming. About dinner-time it began with one or two brilliant
flashes, which lighted up our dining-tent unpleasantly, completely
eclipsing the three or four candles and tent lantern, and showing off
our complexions—sun-burned as we are—in a ghastly hue. Trenches had been
dug round the upper side of our tents, which are on a considerable
slope, so our chances of being washed away during the night are
lessened; while it is pleasant again to feel, if any reliance can be
placed on what these people say, that a whole district will commend us
in their orisons to-night to the holy keeping of the Prophet for our
goodwill towards them in bringing down the rain.
Traces of the late severe famine seem more apparent on this side the
Sebú river than farther north. Disease, too, the sure consequence of
famine, has made great ravages, not only among the poorer class, but to
a great extent among the richer people, who never can have known what
hunger is. In a small district we passed through two days ago, the kaïd,
in apologising for the smallness of the retinue brought to meet us, said
it was not only because a number were away fighting, but that during the
last eighteen months no fewer than sixty of his followers had died of a
sort of low typhus which had been devastating the country. Even now the
very poor class have nothing to eat, and no money to buy food. “Give us
meat!” some of them cried this evening. “In God’s name, we have nothing
to eat but grass!” and they look as if they spoke only the bare truth.
To-day, as Hadj Hamed was distributing the carcases of two sheep, by
order of His Excellency, to a lot of poor wretches at the last camp,
they snatched the meat from him, and, tearing it up, began to eat it
raw. Just beyond, too, where our horses were picketed, the body of a man
was found dead, apparently of starvation, and was buried by our grooms.
His body was noticed in the early morning; so the poor man had probably
wandered round the camp till, unable to go any farther, he had lain down
and died within a stone’s throw of the tent in which we were dining. It
is horrible to think how little one can do to alleviate suffering of
this sort, while at the same time it is gratifying to hear from educated
natives that they are still mindful of the large amount of help that
came from England during the famine, and also are aware from whence it
came. Making allowance for the flattery and compliments which they
naturally pay to a Mission like ours, there is no doubt that the English
are held in much higher esteem here than are any of the Continental
powers. Next to ourselves the French have most intercourse with Marocco;
but though they have succeeded in making themselves dreaded, they have
neither sought for nor obtained the goodwill of the people.
In this province, Sherarda, an act of tyranny and extortion has lately
been committed by a foreign official, which is, I hope, without parallel
in these latter days of diplomacy and civilisation. The story is unique,
and having made notes of it as I heard it related through the medium of
an interpreter, I think it worth a place in my diary. It seems that the
official in question, some months ago, was sent from his embassy with a
message or letter to the Sultan. When at a convenient distance from his
chief he gave himself out as an ambassador, and demanded to be treated
as such. Passing through this place his number of servants and animals
was six and fourteen respectively. The usual _mona_ for this number was
brought, but he returned it, and demanded corn for two hundred animals,
also two sheep, six loaves of sugar, 6 lbs. candles, chickens, eggs,
tea, &c. Eventually he accepted half the amount of corn, but all the
rest was insisted upon. He sold the sheep, the chickens, and part of the
barley to a Moor of the place, the rest he carried away; the load being
too much for his animals, his people seized a mule from its owner and
placed on it two boxes and a mattress belonging to their master. The
mule, however, bolted, leaving the load upon the ground; and the
muleteer, in a fright at being left alone with the foreigner’s chattels,
got the kaïd of the village, who, in the presence of a British subject
and two _adúls_,[27] opened one of the boxes, and after taking an
inventory of its contents, which consisted solely of cooking utensils,
put it and the other box, which was locked, on a camel, with the
mattress, and sent them all into Fez. Mr. ——, however, refused to
receive them, stating that the box which had been opened contained
jewellery and orders to the amount of several thousand dollars, and sent
in a formal complaint about the robbery. Four soldiers were then sent to
demand the robbers. The poor kaïd, who knew that no robbery had been
committed, yet dreading his lord the Sultan, sent up eight innocent men
to Fez. These were put in prison and flogged, without success, to make
them confess—one man for certain, and it was rumoured two, dying under
the lash. Still the _soi-disant_ legate pressed his demands, and hints
of active interference on the part of his Government helped to influence
the Sultan’s advisers. A body of twenty-five __’askár__ were accordingly
sent to the village to say that the money must be paid. The kaïd then
sent for the headmen and sheikhs of villages, and said,—“My friends, it
has pleased God to heavily afflict our province, and by the mouth of a
lying Christian to incense the ear of our lord the Sultan against us;
but we must bow to fate. What is to be done?” It was then agreed to ask
for a fortnight’s respite, during which time they sold their crops and
raised, first one half, and then the remainder of the required sum. With
the latter instalment the kaïd, accompanied by the British subject, went
to Fez, told the Vizier the facts, and that he had a man with him to
substantiate them. It was all of no avail; the money was paid, and the
foreigner returned home much pleased with the private results, at all
events, of his mission.
In detailing this disreputable story I make no insinuations against the
Government which has thus been disgraced, and which is doubtless as
honest and upright as our own; but the rogue in question was a bold and
subtle one, and though other Governments were probably informed by their
representatives of the above facts, his own immediate superior is
presumably still unaware of them. At the same time, if their prestige in
this country suffers, ours derives but little benefit thereby, for as
the Moors think that the devil has tarred all Christians with the same
brush (they credit Sir John, perhaps, with a lighter coat), we are
thought capable of acting similarly, should occasion offer. The
incident, at all events, serves to prove how great is the necessity for
a foreign Government to employ as its representative among a people like
these a man whose own moral instincts render him incapable of employing
as his subordinate any one who could be guilty of such glaring
malpractices. With specimens, too, such as these to damn his endeavours,
the attempts of any well-intentioned foreign representative to gain by
example and moderation the goodwill and favourable opinion of this
unfortunate race are rendered almost futile.
CHAPTER VI.
Leaky Tents—Beni Aamer—Hospitality of villagers—Sea of mud—Storm—Camp
attacked by robbers—Perils of darkness—Curious rocks—First view of
Fez.
_Camp near Fez,
Friday, 16th April 1880._
Rain fell very heavily on Wednesday night at Zeggota, but the trench
round my tent did its work well, and no water flowed in under the walls,
notwithstanding the slope upon which they were pitched. These
double-roofed tents, several of which we brought over from Gibraltar,
are, although issued by Government, really perfect in their way, and the
rain, the effect of which we at first rather dreaded, has now quite a
soothing sound as it patters down at night close to one’s face. With the
Sultan’s tents, of which we have several, the case is different; their
large size and dark handsome linings are a great protection against the
sun, but they leak hopelessly, and the big single-pole one occupied by
Lady and Miss Hay is no exception to the rule. This serious
inconvenience is, however, only one of the many great discomforts borne
uncomplainingly by the two fair members of the Mission—discomforts which
would have driven most English ladies back to Tangier before they had
got two marches out of it.
Close to our camp at Zeggota was a beautiful spring of cold water, which
came bubbling up bright and pure out of the hillside. The medico and I
walked there after breakfast, as he wanted to fill some bottles with it
for the purpose of mixing drugs and potions for the relief of suffering
Marocco. Our road lay in a southeasterly direction, and a ride of an
hour and a half brought us to the foot of a gorge on the right-hand side
of the road, nearly at the head of which, and about two miles from where
we halted for luncheon, was perched the village of Beni Aamer before
mentioned. Directly opposite it, and on the same level, was another
village, a sort of counterpart of Beni Aamer, but which had not been
visible from Zeggota, being situated a little below the crest of the
intervening hill. The whole ravine was filled with the most luxuriant
olive groves, a welcome sight for people who had not seen a tree, with
the exception of those round the Saint houses, since leaving the
neighbourhood of Tangier. A little below our halting place, and at the
point where a stream crosses the road, stood a solitary palm tree,
which, from its rarity, has found a place as a landmark in Tissot’s map.
While luncheon was getting ready some of us started, with two soldiers
as escort, Miss Hay as interpreter, and Síd Búbakr as cicerone, to visit
the village of Beni Aamer. It was a really pretty road up to it through
the olive grove, with gardens here and there on either side, and a small
vineyard, the grapes of which find their way to the markets of Fez. The
people of these two villages, who come of an aboriginal (or brebber)[28]
stock which has intermarried with Arabs, are—so the Síd told us—a
prosperous and well-to-do set, making a considerable revenue out of the
oil they extract from the olives; but since the Governor of Fez, under
whose jurisdiction they come, found out that they were raising their
heads above their neighbours, he has caused a heavy sum of money to be
levied upon them, or, as they expressed it themselves, “came and ate
them up.”
[Illustration: SID-BUBAKR.]
The immediate approach to the village lay over a slippery ledge of
rocks, upon which several of the horses nearly, and one (Herbert
White’s) quite came to grief; so we had to dismount and lead them. On
arrival at the gate we found assembled a good many people, who had been
watching our ascent; and Síd Búbakr, on asking if we might ride in, was
told that the headman had been sent for, and that we must wait for him.
The view from the plateau on which the village stands was magnificent;
below and around us lay the olive groves, while ranges of sloping hills
extended, line upon line, as far as the eye could reach, the background
of all in the far distance being the snow-capped tops of the Atlas
mountains. After waiting a few minutes the sheikhs of the village came
out; tall, stalwart-looking sons of the mountain they were, fair as
Europeans, and very little trace of the Arab about them.
The Síd having explained who we were, and also who he was, the Sheikhs
made us welcome to the village, and following in their wake we rode in
single file under the massive archway. The street, if such it could be
called, in which we found ourselves, led from this gate to another
entrance farther up the hill at the top of the village. The houses on
either side were mostly in ruins, though the mosque which we passed (but
did not even look into, not feeling at the time very sure of our
position) seemed in good repair, as were also one or two smaller
buildings. The place, however, was in such an indescribable state of
filth that we had difficulty in picking our way, and little time,
moreover, to look about us. The centre of the road was too deep in mud
and other abominations even to ride through, so we followed our guides
along a sort of path on the extreme edge; this, however, was not
particularly good going, and having just avoided a small but
suspicious-looking hole at the foot of the wall, I heard a spluttering
and noise behind me, and saw one of our party standing in the mud
pulling at his horse’s head, which was the only part of the animal
visible above ground. He soon managed to struggle out again, having
changed his white coat for a dirty brown one; the hole into which he had
slipped being an eccentricity of Moorish architecture, or some sunken
vault of a ruined house. Arrived outside the other end of the town, we
held a sort of council of war, our chief object being to get home
without partaking of the hospitality which was now being pressed upon
us. We even took the Síd into our confidence, but he decided against us,
so we saw there was no escape. We could not, in any case, return outside
the town, as we wished, there being a lion in the path in the shape of a
Saint house, past which our unhallowed persons could not be allowed to
go. We therefore returned through the gateway, and bearing away to the
right, passed along a rather cleaner part, with one or two shops on
either side. Arrived at a gloomy archway in a covered passage, we
dismounted one by one, and, entering, found ourselves in an almost
totally dark court, the odours in which were not of sanctity; our guides
then took us by the hand and led us to a corner where there was a hole
in the wall, through which having crept with difficulty, we came to the
foot of a very steep and dismal narrow stair, up which in Indian file we
were invited to climb. It was, in truth, a strange entrance to a
gentleman’s house, and augured badly for the style of visitors our host
was in the habit of receiving, or rather of protecting himself against.
Was it an ambuscade for us unfortunate infidels, and did the hearts of
some of us beat loud as the thought of the Jew burned in the
market-place of Fez a few months back occurred to us, besides many
another tale of Mussulman fanaticism and cruelty? But no, the cheery
voice of the Sheikh at the head of the stair reassured us, and certain
silvery tones sounding just over our heads stimulated our curiosity. As
soon as we reached the upper story we were led through a kind of patio
to an inner chamber opening on to it, and through a door on the left,
leading to the top of the house, we saw disappearing hastily the houris
whose voices we had heard from below. The room we found ourselves in was
provided with cushions placed on the encaustic tiles of the floor; and
as soon as we were seated our host besprinkled us plentifully with rose
water, then, after burning some incense in a silver dish, brought it
round to each of us. The Síd had assured us we would get off with tea,
but until its arrival we were much afraid that something more solid was
in course of preparation. Accompanying it, however, was a large basket
of bread with a pile of fresh butter, weighing at a guess about six
pounds. The Moors have a peculiar, albeit simple, method of serving out
such delicacies; breaking off about a quarter of one of the flat scones
or rounds of bread, they plunge their right hand into the mass of butter
and clap a piece about twice the size of a hen’s egg on to the bread,
which is then given to you to get through as best you may; if you are at
all slow or backward in doing so, another edition of the same
proportions is forced upon you, and so on _ad nauseam_. It was past
twelve o’clock when we arrived at our third cup of tea and second hunch
of bread and butter, and, lusting as we were after the flesh pots of the
camp—we had intended returning there to luncheon—it was hard to feel
ourselves becoming momentarily, though involuntarily, less and less able
to contemplate that meal. Just as our forbearance (to say nothing of our
stomachs) was tried to the uttermost, and as we were rising to depart, a
dish of steaming hot meat was brought in; but against this we stoutly
took our stand, protesting with our hands upon our hearts, or a little
below that organ, that the limit to our power of consumption had been
reached. The astute Síd Búbakr bearing us out in this assertion, the
dish was taken outside to our two soldiers, whom we saw doing ample
justice to it, and fully appreciating our want of appetite. We now
stated our wish to return to the halting-ground, urging the anxiety the
Bashador would be feeling on our account, and other cogent reasons. A
new difficulty arose, however, out of which even Síd Búbakr could not
help us; it seemed that there were two kings of Brentford, and that,
having honoured the house of one of them, the other would be humbled to
the dust if we did not visit him too. Seeing there was no help for it,
we acquiesced with what cheerfulness we might, and, passing out, were
rewarded with another glimpse of some of the ladies of the
establishment, whose curiosity to see us overcoming their shyness, they
pressed forward to the head of the stair, their faces—one a very pretty
one—peering over each other’s shoulders to take a parting glance. The
lane outside was densely crowded by the villagers, who were much excited
at the news of a party of Christians being in their Sheikh’s house; but
we managed to get on foot to the next stopping-place, which was pretty
close. Here much the same ordeal was gone through, except that the
bread, freshly baked for us and steaming hot, formed a slippery
foundation for the inevitable lump of butter crammed on to it, thereby
increasing the difficulty of graceful manipulation not a little. The
room in which we were seated for this second tea-party was in the centre
of the house on the ground floor, a rather gloomy apartment, round the
sides of which were placed gigantic clay jars; they were used, as far as
I could make out, for keeping olive oil or corn, though from their size
and shape the suggestion of one of the party that they contained the
bodies of our host’s deceased wives seemed not improbable. We were
allowed to decamp from here as soon as we had got outside the regulation
third cup of tea; and the amount of bread and butter we had disposed of
having effectually put luncheon out of the question, we rode quietly and
resignedly back to the halting-place, where our lengthened absence had
created some uneasiness.
This visit of ours to Beni Aamer was really very interesting, bringing
us, as it did, into contact with the Moor where he shows to the greatest
advantage, viz. in his own house. The more one sees of these people, the
more one appreciates their charm of manner and the entire absence of
anything approaching to awkwardness or _mauvaise honte_. Our hosts here,
for instance, were as perfect gentlemen in their way as one could meet
with anywhere; and certainly, had they exhibited either vulgar
astonishment or any like sign of ill-breeding, one could readily have
excused them. With the exception of ourselves no Christian had ever
entered the village before, and the populace showed their astonishment
by pouring into the streets and covering the tops of the houses that
lined our route. The Sheikh of the village, however, presided over his
tea-tray with as much composure as if he had been entertaining
half-a-dozen Arabs instead of the five Christian men, and, what must
have been much more trying, the one Christian lady of our party. In the
streets, too, though the most unmixed surprise,—and, in the case of a
few women and children, terror,—was manifested at our appearance, there
was no rudeness or jostling; those who disapproved of our presence
merely keeping in the background, scowling at us, and muttering curses
as we passed. The men are, in most instances, much better mannered than
the women, and Miss Hay experienced rather rough treatment at the hands
of the ladies in the first house we went to. They had invited her on to
the roof to see the view, and after nearly tearing her clothes to pieces
to see what they were made of, one young lady of twelve or fourteen
called out, “Let us throw the Nazarene down from the roof, and see what
will become of her!” which suggestion, however, was fortunately not
carried out. At the other house, on the contrary, a pretty attention was
shown her by the head of our host’s harem, who came into the room to
receive her, and led her to the upper end of it, where there was a door
opening into another room. She then seated herself behind the door, and
remained during the séance, saying, “I thought you would feel strange
among so many men alone, so I came to meet you, and will not leave you
all the time.” The full value of this can only be appreciated by those
who know the stringent regulations by which the discipline of the harem
is conducted, and from which this was, of course, a decided departure.
By the time we started, the fact of our presence had been noised abroad,
and the crowds round our horses and along the roofs had much increased;
the Sheikh and his friends accompanied us to the gate, and Síd Búbakr
thus expressed to them our thanks:—“I am asked to convey to you the
thanks of the Christians for your hospitality; they rode up here merely
to see your village, but you have shown them the hospitality of the
Arab, and they will always bear the memory of your kindness written upon
their foreheads.”
I was a little surprised at Síd Búbakr making use of the word “Arab,” as
our entertainers were evidently of Berber, or aboriginal, extraction;
however, as the term “hospitable as an Arab” is proverbial here, I hope
they took it for a compliment.
We got into camp at Mikkès that afternoon at four, an escort of seventy
regular cavalry, the first besides our permanent escort that we have
seen, being stationed some miles out on the road to meet us. They are a
fine body of men, and their movements, and manner of performing the lab
el barôd, are very different from those of their provincial brethren.
The ground on which the tents were pitched was as muddy and ill-chosen
as it could possibly be. It is at the bottom of the chain of hills
through which we have been marching, and is composed of a glutinous sort
of clay. This substance, after taking a few steps in it, attached itself
in such quantities to our boots, that one’s gait resembled that of a
cripple whose lower extremities are paralysed, or of a fly just emerged
from the treacle-pot. The ladies were carried into the dining-room tent
on chairs, and Sir John waded proudly in with goloshes on; but, except
for the purpose of proving the excellence of these expedients, I can
conceive no other reason for the choice of this ground, especially as
the adhesive nature of the soil had been proved on a former occasion.
I shall not soon forget the night we spent there. First of all we
experienced the most violent storm of wind and rain we have had during
the march, and while this was at its height the robber tribe of the Beni
Mtír came down from the hills to attack the camp and carry off the
horses. Altogether, we had reason to congratulate ourselves on a twofold
escape from death,—first by drowning, then from the bullets which
whistled about the camp, for the sentries, kept awake by the rain, were
on the _qui vive_, and fired upon the robbers; while the escort, called
to horse, scoured the neighbourhood, but, owing to the darkness, without
effect. What concerned me more nearly was, that just before composing
myself to sleep I noticed, by the light of a flickering candle which was
out of my reach, and which was going to be allowed to die a natural
death, that my tent-pole was considerably off the perpendicular. Taking
into consideration the hurricane that was blowing outside, and the
consistency of the soil into which the tent-pegs were driven, this
phenomenon was alarming, to say the least of it. I jumped out of bed,
and by the expiring light of the candle anxiously surveyed the pole from
every point of view, but from none would it appear otherwise than as a
miniature edition of the leaning tower of Pisa. The water, however, was
at this time descending in sheets, and mindful of the Slough of Despond
with which we were surrounded I adopted the tactics of the ostrich, and
going back to bed blew out the candle, so that the offending pole should
no longer warn me of a fate I shuddered to contemplate.
Notwithstanding all these perils of darkness, the night passed away
without accident, except that at 2 A.M. the servants’ tent was blown
down. I deeply sympathised in my valet’s melancholy recital of their
sufferings, but hope the accident may serve to make him more careful in
looking to the safe pitching of mine, as I must have narrowly escaped a
similar catastrophe.
The little plain of Mikkès presented a humid and sad appearance in the
morning; the tents were soaked and almost black with rain, and a sheet
of water overspread the foundation of mud below. A high hill overhung
the camp on the south-west side, the rocks on which, apparently of a
tertiary limestone formation, seemed to have been subjected, at a not
very distant period, to volcanic action, which had caused them to assume
the most fantastic appearance. Large circular patches, like the
filled-up craters of extinct volcanoes, dotted the hillside, and these,
shiny but sombre in the rain, all helped to form a gloomy background to
the scene, as our horses, sliding and struggling along, bore us away
from this sea of mud.
To-day’s march we were told was to be only two hours, and Fez would not
be visible till the following day. The march, however, turned out to be
nearly five hours, and just as we turned off the road to gain our
camping-ground, the walls and minarets of the Sacred City came into
view, shining out clearly, about five miles off, in the strong light of
the afternoon sun.
The camp to-night is pitched close to the Wad el Fas, a tributary of the
Sebú, and is about as well-chosen a site for malaria as yesterday’s was
for discomfort and wet clay. What with the rain, which has been
harassing us of late, and the stupidity of Hadj Hamed (or whoever is
responsible) in pitching the camps in such ill-favoured spots, I think
most of us are pleased to be nearly at our journey’s end for the
present. Our native servants and camp-followers seem to more than share
our feelings in this respect, and as soon as they came in sight of the
hills round Fez called loudly on the patron saint of the city—“O Mulai
Edris, bring us soon to Fas! O Mulai Edris, help us with forage for our
mules! O Mulai Edris, we are near home again!” with other and similar
ejaculations.
CHAPTER VII.
Entry into Fez—Compulsory welcome—Grandees of Fez—Kaïd
Maclean—Violence of soldiers—Merchants of Fez—Jews—Our garden in
Fez—Kaïd El Meshwa—Moorish etiquette—Grand Vizier—Streets and shops.
_Fez, Saturday, 17th April 1880._
The excitement of the Moors on getting to their journey’s end was great
last night in camp, and rather communicated itself to us more
matter-of-fact Nazarenes. Many were the questions His Excellency had to
answer relative to the Sacred City. Some of us wanted to know if there
was any hair-cutter in the town—a tradesman of whose professional aid
most of us stand in need—forgetting that the razor, and not the
scissors, is the only instrument employed by _coiffeurs_ of the
faithful. Altogether, our ignorance of what we were to find was great;
but this only added to the interest with which we looked forward to
enlightenment.
Our camp was not more than five miles from the gates, but wonderfully
few people came out to look at it; etiquette prevents the officials
showing their curiosity, and the people, we heard, had been forbidden to
come. This morning, the only person of note to make his appearance was
Síd Búbakr; he had left us the day before yesterday to precede us into
Fez, and hear what were the latest arrangements for our reception, which
he rode out this morning to communicate. Fortunately the day was bright
and sunny, and the clean white _sulhams_[29] which most of the servants
had donned for the occasion, shone to advantage. They had all done
something in the way of brushing themselves up. Boomgheis in virgin
white looked the personification of innocence and chastity,—a character
to which he is perhaps barely entitled, while green silk handkerchiefs
adorned the smooth shaven and scarred heads of Abd-er-Rahman and “Dr.
Hooker.”[30]
We had rather expected that His Excellency would request us to appear in
uniform on the occasion, as one quite felt it to be a day on which
either that or a frock coat and tall hat—had we such things in our
kit—should be produced; but on reflection one recognised the fact that
no costume could appear more striking and thoroughly outlandish to the
eye of the Fasi[31] than that of everyday life! During breakfast Síd
Búbakr, sitting at Sir John’s feet, conversed eagerly with him about, as
we were told, the excitement in the city regarding our entry, the temper
of the populace, and the orders the Sultan had given. It seemed that a
certain class, instigated probably by the Grand Vizier, who is a fanatic
of the worst type, viz. an ignorant one, had determined to take no
notice of us, but to treat us with the contempt to which our creed
entitled us. To obviate this, however, the Sultan this morning gave
orders that all shops were to be closed and business suspended during
the forenoon, and the outpouring of the inhabitants caused by this
measure was a sight which none of us will readily forget. We got on our
horses about 8.30, all curiously eager to see what was to be seen, and
equally ignorant of the extraordinary nature of the spectacle that
awaited us. For the first three miles there were only a few isolated
groups of people come out to see us; but when within two miles of the
gate the crowd had greatly increased, and it became necessary for the
escort to close in a little for our protection, and for us to form
ourselves into two ranks to enable them to encircle us more completely.
I think from here to the gate the whole thing rather suggested scenes in
a circus of impossibly gigantic dimensions, than anything else, but so
constantly changing and varying as almost to baffle description, unless
one had noted down all as it occurred. The first military party to meet
us was a small body of horsemen, so gaudily and brilliantly attired,
that in the far distance, as they came galloping _ventre à terre_
towards us through the lanes of people, they looked like a handful of
precious stones thrown by a powerful and unseen hand, and glittering in
the sun; with one funny exception, they were almost the only piece of
colouring in the whole scene. Next we were met by the Governor of Fez,
with a party of more soberly clad riders, attended by a strong guard.
This official—an old and striking-looking man—greeted His Excellency
with much emotion, but as he is the individual who has been squeezing
our friends of Beni Aamer, we looked upon him with no loving eye, and
would much like to give a quiet hint to the Sultan regarding his
malpractices. When within a mile and a half of the entrance, our
following was augmented by several of the notables of the place, among
the most conspicuous of whom was the Kaïd el Meshwa, or Lord High
Chamberlain of the Court. He is a man of great presence, about 6 feet 2
inches in height, and broad in proportion; and being mounted on a large
white horse of about 16 hands, with a huge saddle covered with green
silk, formed a striking figure in the procession. His complexion is
almost black, as he belongs to the Bokháris[32] or hereditary bondsmen
of the Sultan, but his voice and features are by no means unpleasing. He
is one of the many instances in this country of “promotion by merit.”
Born a slave, his father having filled the office of “washerwoman” to
the royal household, he is now a rich man, and one of the highest Court
officials.
Each of these grandees, as he came up, shook hands cordially with His
Excellency, and then ranged their horses alongside his; while their
guards, mingling with our escort, helped to keep off the mob. At this
point the line of troops commenced; at least bodies of them were formed
up at intervals on our right hand, while on the left were drawn up,
about four deep, a motley line composed of many thousand Fasi, all armed
with the long gun of the country,—a plentiful stock, apparently, from
which to draw recruits for the regular army. The latter force took up
the line on our left as soon as we arrived at the end of the armed
populace. They were under command of Kaïd Maclean, lately an officer in
the English army, but who has been in the service of the Sultan for
about two years in the capacity of Instructor of Infantry, and to whose
untiring exertions His Majesty is indebted for whatever efficiency is to
be found in the dismounted branch of the forces in Marocco. Each
regiment got the command to “present arms” as we passed, and executed it
somewhat independently, according to their interpretation of the order.
Bands of musicians at stated intervals played salutes, and groups of
trumpeters sounded a flourish as we went by; while outside this lane of
soldiers was a surging, seething mass of people, old and young, clothed
and unclothed, mounted and on foot, pressing on and tumbling over one
another in their anxiety to lose nothing of the sight, their eyes being
constantly fixed on the strange-looking people whom their sovereign was
so anxious to honour. Among these were grand-looking old men on mules,
grave and reverend signors on large ambling horses, and occasionally on
a donkey were seated two and even three half-clad and grotesque-looking
creatures. Sometimes, when this moving crowd pressed too hard on the
line of soldiers, some half-dozen of the cavalry in rear of us would
break through the line, upsetting the soldiers, and charging
promiscuously among the people, knock them off their feet, or their
donkeys, as the case might be. The populace, though evidently holding
them in much awe, seemed to take this species of practical rebuke very
good-humouredly, and picking themselves up again, pushed forward as
vigorously as ever. A line of about twelve wonderfully-clad people, with
banners, posted inside the living street along which we rode, attracted
our attention, and these, we were told, represented the chief merchants’
houses in Fez. A funnier and more bizarre-looking group could not be
imagined; the first was a tall black-looking savage, who held his flag
up and scowled at us, as though this mark of attention was sorely
against his principles; the next to him, an aged-looking little dwarf,
with a sandy beard, a complexion almost white, and a look of infinite
cunning in his small red eyes as he squinted upwards at us; beside him,
a fat, unwholesome, and nondescript sort of youth, with a flabby face
about the same yellow hue as his banner, and so on,—no two of them
alike, but each one calculated to haunt you in your dreams, were it not
for the constantly changing supply of singular or revolting spectacles,
each of which served to obliterate the last from one’s mind. The
merchants are, of course, the class most interested in keeping up a
connection with Europe, and they owe much to His Excellency’s influence
with the Sultan on their behalf. Long ago, on a former occasion of Sir
John’s entry into this town, some of them who were under a special
obligation to him engaged several thousand women to go out and meet the
procession; they took up their position on some rising ground, and as
the cavalcade passed gave utterance to their peculiar shrill cry
(something like a Swiss jodel), a sound they always make when wishing to
express their satisfaction at or admiration of anything. The effect
produced, as I have heard it, from only a few people, is curious enough,
but coming from such a multitude of throats was very beautiful and
striking. Shaw, who writes in 1732, describes the sound I allude to,
spelling it phonetically, “Loo, loo, loo,” and says it is a corruption
of the Hebrew “Hallelujah.”[33]
No ladies, however, came out _en masse_ to-day to meet us, but as we got
closer to the city walls the moving panorama on either side became
wedged among the dense crowd who had collected just outside the gates,
and amongst whom were many veiled figures struggling for places where
they could get a good sight of us. Groups of Jews, too, were to be
seen—strange and weird-looking people; most of them in their small black
caps and dark flowing robes. A few were mounted, and all had their
slippers on, in neither of which luxuries may they indulge till outside
the walls of any of the sacred cities. A long-suffering race truly are
they, content to suffer these and all other indignities, provided only
they can make a usurious profit out of their oppressors. But
contemptible and despised as they so often are, they are not without
great title to our respect when one considers how through good and evil
report they stick together, always ready to help their weaker brethren,
even at the sacrifice of—what they value more than their blood—money.
This characteristic they have, to their honour, always possessed, and to
the last they will be found “united by the close moral affinity of
habits and feelings, treasuring in their hearts the same reliance on
their national privileges, the same trust in the promises of their God,
the same conscientious attachment to the institutions of their
fathers.”[34]
[Illustration: VIEW OF FEZ ENTERING FROM NORTH WEST.]
The ground rises on either side of the road just before one enters the
town, and this position was occupied by civilians of apparently a better
class than the yelling crowd who had hitherto surrounded us. These
people all wore prodigious white turbans, which, with spotless robes of
the same colour, formed a curious contrast to their dark faces, directed
towards and slowly following the movements of the strangers. Some
half-dozen brass guns were drawn up near here; the officer in charge, a
handsome man in a gorgeous dress, with a big white turban, rode up
alongside of me, and rather startled me by asking in excellent French if
I spoke that language. On my replying in the affirmative, he introduced
himself as Monsieur Erckmann, captain in the French Artillery, and
commandant of that branch of the Sultan’s army. Funnily enough he cannot
speak a word of English, and as Kaïd Maclean does not understand French,
they talk to each other in Arabic, in which language they both seem
proficient.
Leaving on our right the high walls of the royal palace with its green
towers and minarets, from one of which His Majesty, with his favourite
wives, was said to be watching us, we passed under a gateway into the
city, and a ride of less than an hour brought us through the most
extraordinary labyrinths to the head of a steep and narrow lane, down
which our horses slid till they deposited us at the gate of our present
quarters. Macadam and his art of road-making are unknown in Fez, and
there are not two consecutive yards in any part of our passage through
the streets to-day where an English horse would not be in danger of
breaking its knees and its rider’s head. The quarter of the town through
which we first passed was open and partly ruinous; afterwards we got
into a network of bazaars, but owing to the royal mandate closing the
shops and hunting the people out to _welcome_ us, there was no crowd of
any sort. Fortunate it was that they were kept out, for nothing short of
a charge of cavalry could have cleared the approach to this place. A
good many, of course, squeezed in with us at the city gate, mostly
Moors, for the Jews were delayed by having to dismount from their mules,
or to take off their slippers. One eager youth who had omitted the
latter precaution was detected soon after, and levelled to the ground by
a blow from the butt end of a gun. With the singular vitality, however,
possessed by these people, he picked himself up, and with his shoes in
his hand, I saw him presently running along parallel with us again, a
large scar on his head bearing witness to the ungentle treatment he had
received.
Dismounting at the gateway here, a guard of soldiers in red coats and
knickerbockers, but no stockings, received us with a salute, and passing
them, we found ourselves in a pretty orange grove about one hundred and
fifty yards long by fifty across, with raised paths traversing it and
several ducts of water running through in all directions; about the
centre a walk paved with mosaics crosses it, at each end of which is a
sort of house or kiosk. A few steps lead up to the level of the one on
the west side, and in front of it there is a tank of water of
considerable depth, with fountains playing in it. The house opposite
consists of an entrance hall or public room about twenty feet square,
lofty and lighted by a skylight; off it are three oblong-shaped rooms,
all of which have glass windows to them—an unusual luxury in Marocco;
the walls are covered half-way to the ceiling with pretty velvet
hangings; one or two tables and chairs, specially made for us, and
bedsteads, being the only articles of furniture. At the south end of the
grove the space between the trees is a little more open, and there we
have had our tents pitched, so as to keep the house on the east side
entirely for dining and sitting-rooms. The bedsteads, &c., with which
the side-rooms were provided have consequently been ousted, and owing to
the magic presence of an Englishwoman, the place has already assumed an
air of luxury and comfort about one quarter European and three-quarters
Oriental. In the other house, in front of which the fountains play, Lady
and Miss Hay have taken up their abode; while on the platform over the
gateway, in solitary grandeur, is pitched the tent of the Bashador. The
ground is very damp, but, with the aid of many donkey loads of fine sand
and a number of planks, we have managed to lay down pretty good flooring
to our tents; from the door of mine I have a capital view of the town
below and hills in the distance. Another garden, also made over to us,
is just below this, and here our horses and mules are picketed; behind
us rises a high wall shutting out all view of our neighbours; in fact,
unless one looks towards the east over the roofs and white terraces
visible in that quarter, one would not know there was a town within ten
miles, so thick is the foliage of the grove, and so distant sounds the
hum of the city.
Among the notables who called to pay visits of ceremony to Sir John
to-day were the kaïd of the Meshwa, or chamberlain, and the Sultan’s
private secretary, an amiable-looking old man with a pleasant, and, what
is uncommon here, a friendly expression of face. Both these visitors
remained long in earnest conversation with His Excellency, the chief
subject under discussion being the rather awkward announcement by the
Grand Vizier (of which Sir John had got notice privately some time
before), that it was quite incompatible with his position as Prime
Minister, and his rank as maternal uncle of the Sultan, to call upon or
even return the visit of any one. Under these circumstances the Envoy
distinctly declined to pay the visit of ceremony which was due to the
Vizier, without a guarantee of its being returned, with which rather
hard nut to crack, his auditors, who were inclined to agree with him,
took their leave. Among the governing class of Moors etiquette and
prerogatives are of vital import; and as this fanatical Minister is most
unwilling in all his correspondence, and now apparently in his personal
dealings, to extend to Sir John the courtesies which the latter
considers are due to the representative of Her Majesty, grave
complications might have ensued. All negotiations with the Sultan are
usually conducted through the Vizier; the political objects of the
Mission might therefore have been frustrated, and our journey, which a
French paper describes as “lointaine et périlleuse,” have been taken in
vain. Great cordiality existed between His Excellency and Síd Músa, the
talented predecessor of the present Vizier; and Sir John was naturally
much disgusted at the turn affairs had now taken. Fortunately, however,
at 6 P.M., a message came from the “maternal uncle” guaranteeing a
return of the Envoy’s visit, upon which that able diplomatist, desirous
of striking while the iron was hot, at once donned his official garb and
proceeded to the house of the Minister, from which he returned, tired
but triumphant, at 9 P.M.
As soon as we had got our tents pitched and had luncheon, some of us
went for a walk in the town, accompanied by the interpreters, and
escorted by six or eight soldiers. As long as we were in the narrow
lanes with walls and windowless houses ever so high on each side, we did
not come across many people to stare at us; but once in the regular
thoroughfares, where the bazaars are situated, the astonishment and
interest taken in us were unbounded. People left their work, customers
their bargaining, to turn round and look at us, most of them following
in our wake, while, along the streets parallel to the one we happened to
be in, we saw scores of people hurrying to take up a good place at any
corner we were likely to pass. Most of the streets in which there are
shops are roofed over, when the houses do not meet at the top, with
wicker-work or hurdles stretched across as a protection from the sun.
They are roughly paved with slippery stones, and are not ankle deep in
mud, as are the lanes by which we approached them.
Although one rather loses caste by being seen on foot, it is more
convenient than riding, owing to the crowds of people and narrowness of
the streets; also, in the places where the best shops are to be found
one is obliged to walk, wooden bars being placed across the entrance of
the street to prevent the ingress of mules and horses. The busy and
commercial quarter is a maze of these narrow thoroughfares, from which
the shops, or rather stalls, are retired a little way, and raised about
three feet from the ground, forming a kind of alcove in the wall. The
merchant sits cross-legged in this recess with his wares in front of and
round about him, perfectly indifferent, as becomes a true believer, as
to whether you deal or not; above his head, in the centre of his den,
hangs a cord by which he lazily pulls himself up to stretch across for
any article out of his reach which the customer may want to see. Each
time, however, that we stopped to look at anything, the crowd pressed so
uncomfortably upon us that it was all the soldiers could do to keep them
off, and their activity in clearing the road increased to such a degree
that, being uncertain how much knocking about the populace would stand,
we cut short our visit, and must delay our purchases to some future
date, when the sight of the Christians will have lost a little of its
novelty.
The quarter where we are is divided into gardens like our own, each
containing one house, and surrounded for the sake of privacy by high
walls. These enclosures are intersected by lanes from which all view is
excluded on either hand, and so narrow that two horsemen can with
difficulty pass one another. The sanctity of the harem and of the mosque
is much more carefully guarded here than in Mussulman countries farther
east; and there is one street, at all events, in this city, where
neither Christian nor Jew may enter, lest the taint of their presence
should reach the mosque situated at the farther end. It contains the
shrine of the son of Mulai Edris, the patron saint and founder of Fez,
whose name is on the lips of every beggar in the street, and without
invoking whom no bargain is made or business concluded.
We seem to have been wandering in the wilds for months instead of weeks,
and dinner to-night under a solid roof, seated on chairs with backs to
them, and at a table “on an even keel,” seemed to us a luxury carrying
us back to a long-forgotten era of civilisation.
CHAPTER VIII.
Visit to the Chamberlain—Our Host’s sons—French officers at
dinner—Reception of Mission by Sultan—Kilts and equestrianism—Palace
enclosure—Homage of soldiers—Dialogue between Sultan and
Envoy—Delivery of the Queen’s letter—Presentation of Mission.
_Sunday, 18th April 1880._
Our round of dissipations in Fez commenced this morning by a breakfast
at the house of the Kaïd el Meshwa, the portly Chamberlain whose figure
impressed us all in yesterday’s procession. Fortified by an early cup of
coffee, we proceeded to his house in state, the military members of the
Mission in uniform, and the others in diplomatic garb. The distance was
said to be a quarter of a mile, and we were recommended to walk, but
turning, fortunately, a deaf ear to the evil counsels of, I regret to
say, His Excellency, we mounted our horses and rode for a mile through
as dirty roads as can well be conceived, their narrowness necessitating
our riding in single file most of the way, with mounted guards in front,
and soldiers on foot bringing up the rear. Arrived at our destination,
we dismounted under an archway, and traversing a dark and winding
passage, came to a doorway where we were met and welcomed by our host.
He led us into a spacious patio, prettily decorated after the Moorish
style, having a fountain in the centre, and three comfortably-sized
rooms opening into the court; these rooms were carpeted with handsome
rugs from Rabât, stupidly covered in part by pieces of Brussels carpet.
In each room were one or two French bedsteads, which, with the usual
cushions round the walls, were the only articles of furniture. The
inevitable three cups of green tea, without which prefix no business or
pleasure can be undertaken, were served to us in one room, after which
we were led across the patio to another, where a table, groaning with
sweetmeats of all sorts, was laid out, a course of cold fish being first
handed round as a kind of foundation.
The kaïd has a pleasant grave face, albeit a black one, and talked
continually with His Excellency all the time we were jeopardising our
constitutions with his light refection, which we were warned was not to
count in our favour, but was only to serve as a preliminary to something
more solid on another occasion. The square patio was all open at the
top, and round the edge of it, peeping over the parapet, were a lot of
white veiled faces (at which we occasionally stole furtive glances),
looking eagerly on at the unusual scene below. A jolly little boy about
three years old trotted in and out of the room, and I utilised him
occasionally by making him eat some unctuous confection which was put on
my plate, and which I was wholly unable to tackle. Another son of our
host’s, a man about twenty-four years old, sat outside; his looks were
not prepossessing, but it seems he has been suffering for over a month
from a bullet wound in the leg, just above the ankle, which has almost
crippled him. The manner of his receiving it is typical of Moorish
customs, and of the ready and frank way they have of expressing the
feeling of the moment. It seems that the youth is a good hand at lab el
barôd; and a friend of his who was engaged with him at this pastime,
annoyed at the superior dexterity he evinced, loaded his own gun with
ball and fired, intending, so he said, “only to kill the horse,” instead
of which the ball entered his rival’s leg, and is apparently there
still. The doctor to-day, at the kaïd’s request, made a superficial
examination of the wound, and is to search with a probe for the foreign
body on another occasion.
The kaïd was interested in our various uniforms, and the differences
between them were explained to him by Sir John. As the Highland dress is
unsuited for equestrianism, I had indulged myself to-day in mounted
officer’s attire, long boots, &c., but had been obliged to promise to
appear in full dress in the presence of Majesty to-morrow, the Sultan
having intimated his intention of receiving the Mission at 9 A.M. His
Excellency, in describing the dress to the Kaïd el Meshwa at breakfast,
alluded with delicacy to the nature of the inconvenience which would be
experienced by the wearer in the saddle, upon which the Chamberlain
promptly suggested the use of a pair of large Moorish continuations into
which kilt and all could be tucked, and the cuticle of the rider be
thereby secured from injury; he also offered for my use a small room in
the palace to-morrow, in which I might disencumber myself of the extra
garment before His Majesty’s arrival on the scene. This ingenious
proposal so commended itself to Sir John that he at once accepted on my
behalf, and this evening a huge pair of white linen drawers from the
wardrobe of Síd Búbakr have made their appearance in my tent.
Returning from the Chamberlain’s house, some of us paid a visit to Kaïd
Maclean, who did the honours of his establishment, and took us to the
roof of his house, from whence there is a capital view of the town. He
has got a large and very good garden, in which, among other edibles, he
grows potatoes. This vegetable is unknown here, but although he has
given them to several Moors to try, they, curiously enough, have not
accepted his offer of seed for themselves. After luncheon he went with
us for a ride outside the town. While galloping along, the horse of one
of our escort, of whom we had six, put his foot into a hole, and coming
down gave his rider a heavy fall upon the stony ground; the man picked
himself up, bleeding profusely from the head, and said he was “La
bás”—Anglicè, all right,—but he had to be taken home, and to-night we
hear he is very ill.
The two French officers dined with us. M. Erckmann is a nephew of the
author of “Le Conscrit,” &c.; he does not seem to care about the Moors,
nor does he very much rely upon their professions of friendship for us.
They have been here about two years, their services having been forced
upon the Sultan by the French Government, whose jealousy was roused by
Kaïd Maclean’s appointment to command His Majesty’s infantry. M.
Erckmann is well educated and rather amusing; the other, we found upon
enquiry, holds the rank of _sous officier_. He said little, devoting
himself chiefly to the pleasures of the table, and laughing hoarsely at
the jokes of his superior.
_Monday, 19th April 1880._
I think it will be long before the spectacle we saw to-day is forgotten
by any of us, gorgeous as it was in its barbaric magnificence, and
important in the political bearing it had upon the relations between
Marocco and England. The Sultan had signified his intention of receiving
His Excellency and suite at 9 A.M. So, shortly after 8 o’clock, we left
our quarters, and rode towards the palace of His Sharífian Majesty.
[Illustration: TOMB OF SULTAN, NEAR FEZ]
Disdaining the pantaloons which the Kaïd el Meshwa had, through Síd
Búbakr, so kindly provided me with, and turning a deaf ear to the vulgar
suggestions of sidesaddles and riding habits, made by members of the
Mission, I mounted my gray, and, as we went at a foot’s pace all the
way, experienced at all events a minimum of inconvenience. We rode out
at the gate of the town by which we entered on Saturday, and were taken
through another doorway, a little distance on, into a large rectangular
enclosure, with high walls on every side, the gate being immediately
closed behind us to prevent the ingress of the mob who followed. At the
farther corner from where we came in is the entrance to the palace, and
opposite this, at about 400 yards’ distance, we dismounted, and, being
marshalled in two ranks, with Sir John in front, awaited the arrival of
His Majesty. A slight discussion at this moment arose as to whether the
four military members of the Mission should remove their hats or not in
the Royal Presence. Fortunately, as the African sun was beating down on
us in all its glory, it was settled we were to remain covered, and, at
the moment the Envoy advanced to make his obeisance, and again, of
course, when we were separately presented, to salute in the ordinary
fashion. We heard afterwards that the Sultan enquired why the hats of
those in diplomatic uniforms were removed and ours kept on, but that he
was quite satisfied at hearing (from Kaïd Maclean) that officers on duty
never uncovered their heads.
Between us and the gateway by which the Sultan was to approach was a
broad lane, formed by troops; and though in some of the regiments there
was not much uniformity of dress and colour, the various tints seemed
all to blend into one harmonious whole, which was quite indescribable,
but upon which the eye never grew wearied of gazing. Half-way up the
line of soldiers, on our left hand, stood a row of musicians, about
thirty in number, each dressed in a long robe of uniform colour, but no
two alike, every conceivable tint being represented, from the brightest
orange to the darkest blue, the entire line shining like a rainbow in
the bright morning sun. Opposite this painted group were assembled, clad
in folds of snow-white muslin, about a hundred Court officials, who, in
virtue of office or position, had a right to take part in the
ceremonial. The infantry were under Kaïd Maclean, and near the gate were
posted the artillery, commanded by our guest of last night. Of mounted
men, or even officers, there were none, for on State occasions like this
all must appear on foot before a Sultan of Marocco, “whose throne is his
saddle, whose pavilion is the sky.” Other bodies of troops were drawn up
in different parts of the enclosure; and round the whole, shutting out
the scene from the gaze of the crowd, rose the high white walls, the
glaring sameness of which formed a striking contrast to the
gaudily-painted assembly they enclosed.
Punctuality is the politeness of princes, and in this respect, at all
events, the Moorish monarch can vie with more civilised sovereigns; for
before five minutes had elapsed a murmur of expectation and a flourish
of trumpets announced His Majesty’s approach.
Mounted on a pure white horse of gigantic size, and preceded by two
spearmen, with the High Chamberlain a little in advance of them, Mulai
Hassan rode slowly in. Four led horses, magnificently caparisoned,
pranced along, two on either side of him; and above his head was borne a
large flat umbrella of some red material on a pole twelve feet high;
while the rear was brought up by a small number of his black, or
Bokhári, bodyguard, in front of whom marched the headsman or
executioner, whose office, however, is almost a sinecure in Marocco. An
air of solemnity and grandeur pervaded them all, from the imposing
figure of the Sultan, towering above every one, to the tall attendants
who, one on either side, slowly and with great regularity shot forth
long white cloths towards His Majesty’s head to keep away the flies. The
view of this singular procession, slowly advancing towards us, was most
impressive; and though there might be in it all a spice of the
theatrical element, any disagreeable effect of this was removed by the
vastness of the scale on which it was conducted. As they came abreast of
the musicians, who were making the place re-echo with their trombones to
the strains of the Moorish National Anthem, the white-robed assembly
opposite to them bowed reverently to the ground, the troops—most of them
falling on their knees!—presented arms, and from every throat there rose
simultaneously the shout of “Our Lord and Master, Our Lord and Master.”
At about six paces from the Envoy, His Majesty stopped, and the Kaïd el
Meshwa, or Chamberlain, advancing to Sir John, led him up to the Sultan,
and in stentorian tones proclaimed his titles to the crowd. His
Excellency then, bowing low, awaited, hat in hand, the pleasure of the
Sultan, who addressed him as follows:—
“We are pleased to see you again at our Court, for you have always been
an elect friend and counsellor. We are glad to learn you have been
promoted to the rank of Envoy. We entertain high feelings of friendship
towards the Queen and the British Nation, for we have never ceased to
receive proofs of their friendship and regard. You are most welcome, as
also are all the persons that accompany you.”
Here His Majesty paused, while the Chamberlain thundered out to the
assemblage the last sentence of his master’s speech.
The Envoy then replied,—
“I thank Your Majesty for the gratifying expression of your friendship
towards my gracious Sovereign and the British nation, and I feel highly
honoured by the sentiments Your Majesty has been pleased to express with
regard to myself.”
His Excellency now handed the Queen’s letter to the Sultan, and
continued,—
“I have the honour to deliver the royal letter which Her Majesty the
Queen has addressed to Your Sharífian Majesty. Her Majesty desires your
welfare and prosperity, and that of your subjects. I shall regard myself
as most fortunate if I continue to enjoy Your Majesty’s confidence, and
should be enabled through Your Majesty’s support and goodwill to draw
closer the ties of friendship by the promotion of the mutual interests
of the nations of England and Marocco. I thank Your Majesty for the
honourable reception granted me the day of my entry into this city, and
for your munificent hospitality. It affords me much pleasure to inform
Your Majesty that the Governors and other officers in the provinces
through which I passed, received me with hospitality and marks of honour
and goodwill.”
To which the Sultan replied,—
“You deserve every mark of honour and goodwill from us and our officers:
present me the members of your Mission.”
The Sultan spoke at first in a low and very tremulous voice, and was so
nervous I was afraid he would break down. He soon recovered himself,
however, and the dignity of his manner was enhanced by the silence and
reverential awe of the thousands of soldiers and courtiers who hung upon
his words and actions. The conversation, too, was disturbed occasionally
by the restlessness of His Majesty’s charger, which equine
eccentricities will—so it is whispered—bring dire vengeance on the
Master of the Horse; but this opinion, I hope, is a calumny, as there is
a lurking expression of kindness in the Sultan’s grave and handsome
face; and the way in which he manœuvred his steed, to bring under the
shade of the huge red umbrella His Excellency’s wholly unprotected head,
earned at once our admiration and the gratitude of that statesman.
Sir John now beckoned to each of us in turn to come and be presented,
briefly mentioning to His Majesty what were our professions and
designations. The Sultan, at the conclusion of each presentation, said a
few words of welcome, which were translated to us by His Excellency, and
shouted out _pro bono publico_ at the top of the Chamberlain’s voice.
His Majesty asked several questions relating to my uniform, and was
interested in hearing from the Envoy that it is a dress worn by the
Jebelis, or mountaineers, who live to the north of England—a tribe which
never retreats in battle, and from which the Queen gets her best
soldiers. “I also, your Majesty,” somewhat pertinently added His
Excellency, “am a native of those parts.” The ceremony being now
concluded, the Sultan retired under a salute from his artillery, the
noise of which caused the great white horse to caper about, much to the
discomfiture of the umbrella-bearer and other attendants.
This ancient custom, above described, for the ruler of Marocco, himself
mounted on horseback, to receive foreign ambassadors on foot, has given
considerable offence to some of the representatives of our Continental
neighbours, who have remonstrated, fortunately without success, on the
smallness of the figure they have had to cut on these occasions. It may
be that, with the march of civilisation, this usage will cease, and that
Sultans, in common with their peers, will admit ambassadors into the
more sacred precincts of the palace, in which case those who have
witnessed the rude splendour of these out-of-door receptions may
consider themselves fortunate. What is more probable is that, unless the
reforms so urgently needed, and which the Sultan himself is anxious to
inaugurate, be not speedily undertaken, the state of Marocco will go
from bad to worse, until, having bid farewell to even the residue of its
ancient grandeur, European powers will no longer deem it necessary to
send officers of rank and distinction to represent them at the Moorish
Court.
There seemed to be no hitch whatever in the conduct and arrangements of
to-day’s ceremonial, though it can seldom have fallen to the lot of the
present Sultan to receive a visitor of such importance as the English
Envoy Extraordinary; neither can the Chamberlain, whose voice is still
ringing in my ears, have often to perform his duties on such a scale and
in so august a presence. One incident that rather tried our gravity
occurred just before the conclusion of the scene, and was this: On our
left during the ceremony stood the old Arab scribe and the two
interpreters, and His Majesty’s attention having been drawn to the fact
of their presence, he condescendingly muttered a few words, which were
repeated by the Chamberlain—“The servants, too, are welcomed by our
Lord.” This they acknowledged by bowing to the ground, and then retired
to their original places in rear, except old Haïm, whom we irreverently
call Tweedledum. This worthy Israelite, overcome by the novelty of the
situation and the Sultan’s condescension, stood rooted to the ground,
and in a voice that emulated the Chamberlain’s poured forth a loud and
incessant stream of blessings on His Majesty’s head. As his lungs are
powerful, and there seemed no symptoms of cessation, he was gently
removed by the attendants, still calling upon the God of Abraham to
maintain the line of Mulai Hassan on the throne of their fathers.
As soon as the Sultan and his attendants had passed through the gateway
into the palace, the Vizier and other officials came up to welcome Sir
John, and to enquire into the nature of the presents contained in the
two large boxes bound up in white cloth which had been brought along
with us on the backs of mules. As it was not a convenient moment for the
delivery of a lecture on the principle of the telephone or heliograph,
His Excellency replied that it would be necessary to open and see the
instruments before explaining their use, and this, of course, must not
be done till the Sultan’s pleasure respecting them was known. In the
meantime he exacted a promise from His Majesty’s “Eyebrow,” or head of
the household, that the boxes should be put in a safe place, and not
opened or tampered with in any way.
CHAPTER IX.
Position of Fez—Water supply—Breakfast at Grand Vizier’s—Hidden
treasure—Sultan’s garden—Laying down telephone—Royal stud—Dinner at
Kaïd Hadj Hamed’s—Surgery.
Some of the views one gets of the town from the neighbouring heights are
very pretty, and quite unlike any style of landscape I have seen before.
The plain at the extremity of which the city is built extends for many
miles in a south-west direction, and is almost a dead level, with an
average width of some six miles. It is watered by the Wad el Fas (River
of Fez), which falls into the Sebú about four miles below the town. Fez
itself, though placed completely in a hollow, is certainly a very
beautiful town when viewed from a short distance off; and apart from its
fine surroundings, the plentiful mixture of bright green foliage, which
peeps out from the otherwise glaring white of the houses, forms a vivid
and agreeable contrast. The ground it stands on is by no means level,
while close to it and all round, except towards the south-west, the land
is undulating and rises to a considerable height, with many admirable
and far more healthy sites on which to have built a town. The attraction
of having more building material close at hand, and also an unlimited
water supply, are the cause of the choice, this element, though in a
very undrinkable state, being obtainable in almost every street. The
river, which flows through part of the town, is led off in ducts in
every direction, all private houses of any pretension having it let in
to supply the fountains, &c., of which there is one in every patio. The
stream is a good deal used for working corn-mills, some of which, by the
noise one hears, seem to be grinding all night; the old circular stone,
with a hole in the middle, is still in vogue, and broken and disused
specimens are to be seen lying all about the town. The water is of a
dull slate colour, with a considerable deposit on being left to stand
for a short time, and is not without a large proportion of visible
animal life. Rich people have theirs brought in from a distance, but for
the poorer classes the ordinary supply must be a ready means of laying
the foundation of disease, and is none the more palatable from the fact
that into it flows, at the head of the stream, the Sultan’s private
aqueduct, in which the 300 or 400 fair denizens of the palace have
previously performed their ablutions.
The Moors of the present day seem to think Fez as near an approach to
Paradise as can be found on earth; this opinion, too, has been shared to
a certain extent by early English travellers, one of whom, in the
sixteenth century, gives us the following fantastic description of the
features of the town to which I have more prosaically alluded:—“Nature
and art have played the wantons, and have brought forth this city, the
fruit of their dalliance.... So doth the earth seem to dance in little
Hillocks and pretie vallies, diversifying the Soyle.” Of the river and
its subdivisions, too, he says, “He is divided into two armes, embracing
this lovely nymphe; and he finds meanes of secret intelligence with his
love ... which, still enjoying, he wooeth, and ever wooing
enjoyeth!”[35]
[Illustration: VIEW OF FEZ ENTERING FROM SOUTH WEST.]
The canals I have mentioned as permeating the town, while cooling the
air in summer, must make the place damp and unhealthy, and with the
narrow sunless streets and infinity of smells account for the pale,
unwholesome looks of the Fasi. Sad, _insouciant_, and wrapped in
melancholy and rags, as most of them are, they form a sorry contrast to
the bold, cheery inhabitants of the provinces. The soldiers and black
population, including slaves, are the only exceptions; but the former
pass a great portion of the year out in camp, and the latter are bound
to present a uniformly shining appearance, at all events as regards
their outer man.
It is difficult to explain why disease is not more rife here than it is,
as there is every facility both for propagating and engendering it,
while of medical aid there is next to none. Almost the only remedy used
by native physicians is bleeding, or rather cupping, which is considered
a panacea; while for wounds or fractures small slips of paper, with
verses of the Koran written on them, are bound over the part affected.
Of surgery and anatomy they are quite ignorant, and, in fact, such
science is forbidden by the Koran; while the idea of medicine is
distasteful, especially to the rich, who are always suspicious of
poisoning; so the few drugs known are seldom administered.
_Wednesday, 21st April 1880._
It is whispered that though some of the high Court officials are willing
enough to entertain us, either from motives of hospitality or for the
purpose of affording a treat to their womenkind, yet some are most
reluctant to show us any civility. Among the former are the Kaïd el
Meshwa (or the Mouchoir, as we have christened him—a by no means
inappropriate name, considering his father was a “washerwoman”) and the
cheery little Hájeb, or “Eyebrow,” while the others comprise the
Governor of Fez and the Grand Vizier. The latter functionary, however,
acting from pressure put upon him by the Sultan, invited us to his house
to breakfast, and there we repaired shortly after nine o’clock. The
house is prettily situated on sloping ground at the outskirts of the
town, and the entrance at which the Vizier’s secretary received us is at
the bottom of a beautiful garden, laid out in terraces up towards the
house. Walking up through here we passed our host’s harem, or rather
their abode, on our left hand, and mounting some steps came to an open
court paved with mosaics, on the other side of which was the entrance,
where the minister himself was standing to welcome us. “Marhaba bík!
marhaba bík!”[36] is a phrase one soon masters in this country; and our
host, addressing it to each of us, led us into the house. I do not know
whether the owner or his mansion claims the first description, but
leaving the better-looking to the last, I will begin with the Prime
Minister, Síd Muhammed ben Moktsar. He is the individual who refused at
first to call on His Excellency, and has only been in office a short
time. Connected by marriage with the Sultan, he gives himself
considerable airs, and is said to combine in a rare degree the
properties of fool and fanatic. He is a short and very stout man of
between thirty-five and forty, with a perpetual forced smile on his
face, and, sitting cross-legged on a sofa, with his mouth always wide
open, beside Sir John, reminded one irresistibly of a large toad.
However, commencing from very little, he is now second man in the
Empire, and in the few months he has been in office has amassed enough
money to spend, at all events, £10,000 or £15,000 on his beautiful
house. As his actual salary is _nil_, or almost nominal, this shows the
extent to which he has squeezed the unfortunate people whose affairs he
manages. The system is the same throughout,—none of the officials are
paid; and some of them, such as the Governor of Fez, are expected to
make payments to the Sultan of several thousand pounds per annum.
Besides what he has laid out on his house, the Grand Vizier has a
quantity of ready money, and he told Kaïd Maclean—of whom he professes
to be very fond, and whom he calls “his son”—how he had disposed of it.
“It is all in gold doubloons,” he said, “and I have got it locked in a
chest, and buried in one of my gardens at Mequinez; the slaves have
‘gone away’ (Anglicè, are dead or in prison for life) who buried it, and
no one but myself knows the place.” “Well, now,” said M., “I am your
‘son,’ so you may as well tell me where it is, and give me the key.”
“Ah!” said the Vizier, with a leer of infinite cunning, “I went for a
long ride lately alone, took the key with me, and threw it into the
Sebú.” It seems very strange that men in a position like his, and to a
certain extent educated, should do such things; but as investments are
unknown, and it is illegal for a Moor to set up a bank, it is not so
much to be wondered at. The amount of treasure so deposited in gardens,
walls, &c., is said to be incredible; a will is very rarely made, as
there is no security for its being carried out, and a man buries all he
has for safety’s sake, intending, probably, on his death-bed to acquaint
his friends with its whereabouts; but either he dies a violent death, or
else, hoping always that an illness may not be his last, he hesitates to
unburthen his mind in case he may recover and then be murdered for his
money. Thus the secret dies with him, and he departs elsewhere to
account, among other irregularities, for the talent he has so
successfully wrapped up.
On another occasion this intelligent statesman, feeling unwell, sent for
Kaïd Maclean, who hurried down to him, and finding his liver was
affected, went home for a box of blue pills. Returning with them himself
to the Vizier, he gave him a couple. The patient, taking them in one
hand, drew M. towards him with the other, and, forcing the pills into
his mouth, obliged him to swallow them. “Now,” he said, with an air of
triumph, “I will take two myself in a little time;” this he accordingly
did, and derived considerable benefit. On being expostulated with
afterwards on his unworthy suspicion, he tried to excuse himself,
saying, “Well, you see, I thought some of the servants might have
tampered with the box and poisoned the medicine.” “In which case, don’t
you see, you would have poisoned _me_?” suggested his benefactor. “Ah,
God is great!” was the reply, and the matter dropped.
This worthy’s house is very perfect in its way, and a good specimen of
modern Moorish architecture. The entrance hall and all the rooms are
paved with fine mosaics, the patio and some of the terraces in the same
style, but of coarser material. Two or three large sofas fill up the
front of the hall, while the back part, which is raised a little, is
covered with cushions and rugs. From this open off two rooms (in one of
which we had breakfast), both in the same style, with arched ceilings of
richly coloured wood and stucco. Up the stairs, which are very steep and
narrow, as in all Moorish houses, are a variety of rooms of all
sizes—bath-rooms, bed-rooms, and little bijou sort of apartments, highly
ornamented, like the courts of the Alhambra, but the gold-work fresh and
bright, and the colours of every imaginable hue. As the house stands
considerably above the level of the town, and there are no neighbours to
overlook it, it is provided with numerous windows—an unusual innovation
among these privacy-loving people. Some had glass in them, others none,
and from them all there was a magnificent view of the town, with its
dark background of lofty hills; while from the garden below there came
the perfume of roses and orange blossoms, which seem here to be in
perpetual bloom.
The Vizier had prepared a table for us, with chairs, knives and forks;
the latter implements were unpacked in our presence from a large
plate-chest specially procured from Paris for this and similar occasions
hereafter, and their use was explained by our servants to the slaves of
our host, who had never seen anything of the sort before. On these
occasions we are always requested to bring with us our own Moorish
attendants, who are accustomed to our outlandish manner of feeding, and
can minister to our wants more readily than the slaves of the Faithful.
In this instance we had the worthy Boomgheis and Selám Hajút, Sir John’s
butler, to wait on us—a duty which commends itself to them, as, after we
finish, the _débris du festin_, and more should they require it, fall to
their share.
The table was covered with a snow-white cloth, on which were china
dishes containing every imaginable and unimaginable kind of sweetmeat
and confectionery, more like the preparations for a marriage-feast than
an ordinary breakfast. We surveyed these edibles not without some
anxiety; it was to be our first experience of a real Moorish “feed,” and
as we had accidentally heard that the comestibles had been prepared and
on the table for the last three weeks, for the inspection of the
minister’s friends, we were a little uneasy as to the effect that they
might have upon us after so long keeping. The number and variety of hot
dishes which came in presently was astonishing, and our own servants
seem to have been put up to insisting on our trying them all. Nothing,
however, was very nasty, though everything was unlike anything we had
ever seen before, and some of the sauces were oleaginous to the last
degree. The last of the solid courses was a huge dish of _kuskussú_,[37]
which, however, we hailed with delight, as its arrival usually betokens
the beginning of the end. In the matter of freedom of action, we
unbelievers scored considerably off His Excellency, who was given a
place of honour in the hall, and fed at a small table with our host, Síd
Búbakr, and the Sultan’s treasurer, which latter gentleman I had
remarked taking notes in pencil of the Bashador’s conversation while
breakfast was preparing. His companions, of course, disdained the use of
knives and forks, and argued with Sir John in favour of their plan of
eating with their fingers. To keep him in countenance, however, they
were seated on chairs and sofas, which they managed to do pretty
comfortably, though usually with one leg furtively tucked up on the seat
beneath them. Their natural cross-legged position is by no means
ungraceful, though in the case of the fat Vizier it brought his great
toe, which he caressed continually as he sat toad-like on the sofa, into
closer proximity with his food than was pleasing to a European eye.
The number of dishes of kuskussú we saw put before the servants outside
and returning empty, to say nothing of the substantial fragments from
our table, was simply incredible; but eating, like all other enjoyments
in this country, is carried to excess, and the Prophet never showed a
greater knowledge of his followers than when he laid an embargo on
alcohol.
The feast over and a visit paid to the stables, where there was nothing
much worth seeing, Haynes and I rode to the palace to see about fixing
the telephone, &c., with Síd Búbakr as guide and Mr. Náhum as
interpreter. We kept outside the town till we arrived near the palace at
the large enclosure where the reception of last Monday had taken place.
On the way there I had some conversation with Síd Búbakr through the
medium of the interpreter, and found that his travels in Europe had
extended only to Gibraltar and Algeçiraz; he had seen the bull fights at
the latter place, and thought them “bad and cruel.” I asked about the
slave-market here, which I am anxious to see. It seems they are not sold
at the public “Sôk” or market, which is held on Mondays and Thursdays,
but at a different place altogether, any evening in the week, as
occasion demands. When we arrived at the entrance into the palace
grounds the guards there made us dismount, and after some delay the
Chief of the Household, Síd Hamed ben Músa, came out and took us into an
inner courtyard. Here he thought would be a good place for laying down
the telephone; but as we were not of the same opinion, and wanted to
have it in the garden next the palace, he said he would go, and “if the
Sultan were awake,” ask leave for us to go in. After keeping us waiting
a very long time,—which we heard he did through being annoyed at our
determination to invade the sacred precincts,—he returned with the
Sultan’s permission, and the boxes containing the telephone and
heliographs carried on the backs of slaves. The inner gate was then
opened, and, going across a courtyard and through another enormous door,
we found ourselves in His Majesty’s garden. To our right and left was a
broad walk paved in mosaic; a high arched colonnade on the left extended
along this walk for about forty yards, and the continuation of this
building was the palace, raised a few steps above the walk, and having a
more private and cared-for-looking garden in front of it. The grove or
garden we were in was so thick with orange-trees and shrubs, that one
could get no view of the palace, though we were not many yards off. The
roof only—a green tiled structure like those on the mosques—was visible,
the building itself, as far as I could judge, not being very large,
though the interior, where no Christian has ever set foot, is said to be
of exquisite workmanship. The orange-grove was intersected by straight
grass walks at right angles to each other, and from the end to half-way
along one of these we decided to lay down the telephone. The kaïd of the
Freigíahs (chief of the tent-pitchers) having been summoned, we were
told we “only had to command and our slaves would obey;” so we
instructed him to pitch a tent at one end of the walk, and another
half-way down, so as to keep the ends of the telephone under cover,
which order was speedily executed. It took a long time putting the
instrument up, and when completed neither of the bells would work, and
the voice sounded dim and indistinct. As I knew nothing about it, and my
colleague confessed himself at fault, we decided to leave it for to-day,
and to-morrow to bring to bear on it the scientific attainments of the
“photographer.” A little before we left, the attendants implored us not
to delay, as the “ladies were coming out.” Feeling sure the ladies could
not wish to hurry us, we completed our work, but were unfortunately not
favoured with a glimpse of any of them.
The following morning I returned to the palace with Lawless. While he
was busy with the telephone I occupied myself in cutting out a circular
piece of thin black paper with which to cover the glass of the
heliograph for use at short distances, when the extreme brilliancy of
the flash renders it impossible to read the signals. I found my plan
answer very well, the disk I left in the centre of the glass being about
the size of a crown-piece. We took a look at His Majesty’s horses while
we were there, about thirty of them all picketed in one of the grass
walks. They looked a pretty strong and serviceable lot, but we were told
on enquiry the “best were kept elsewhere.” As I did not recognise the
one the Sultan rode on Monday, this may be true. Most of them seem to
have a touch of the dray in their composition, which I fancy is
accounted for by George III. having sent a present of some stallions of
that breed to the then Emperor of Marocco.
[Illustration: KAID OF THE “FREIGÍAHS” & SOLDIERS IN PALACE GARDEN.]
Some slaves are at work all day in building a high wall round the palace
garden. The material is mud and gravel, which they beat down between
parallel boards into a mass called “_tapia_,” which soon hardens into a
substance like concrete. They sing a wild monotonous air the while,
swinging their rammers or mallets in time to the music, and at the last
word of the couplet bring them all down together. There is consequently
a good deal more singing than hammering, but unless allowed their own
way I am told they cannot work at all. I turned the flash of the
heliograph full among them, which made them lie down and yell with
terror; so, being afraid they might roll off the top of the wall in
their fright, I did not repeat the experiment.
In the afternoon Kaïd Maclean rode with some of us to the house of Kaïd
Hadj Hamed, to whom we had long promised a visit. He commands a regiment
here, and is much more intelligent and civilised than his peers. On a
late occasion he accompanied Kaïd Maclean to Gibraltar, and dined at our
mess, where, with the exception of being unable to speak, he comported
himself like anybody else, using his knife and fork with much ease and
dexterity. These implements, however, do not seem to have sufficiently
commended themselves to him to induce him to adopt their use in his own
house, and the ample dinner he provided for us had to be discussed with
our fingers. Hadj Hamed received us at the door of his house, and took
us through a passage to the patio in the centre, where a number of his
friends were assembled. In a kind of chambered recess off it, cushions
were spread for us, and behind us were a lot of mattresses piled up and
covered with very handsome stuffs of native manufacture. The
entertainment began, as usual, with tea, after which the large circular
table, like a sieve, appeared, and was placed in our midst as we
squatted on the floor. Some very good soup made its appearance first,—in
fact, all the courses were edible, and some really good; the soup we
discussed in small basins with much ease; but roast mutton, which
followed, without the aid of knives and forks, was more difficult.
Chickens were easily managed, as with two people pulling at a leg or
wing in opposite directions the question settled itself. Our host,
however, when he saw us in difficulties, would neatly tear off a few
shreds of meat from the joint, and present them to us. The repast,
though unenlivened by the cup that cheers, was rather a festive one; a
band played and sang without ceasing in the patio, and our host’s
endeavours to make himself agreeable were quite successful. Dinner over,
a brass kettle and basin were brought in, and the very necessary
ablutions took place; after which a number of silver bottles of rose
water appeared, the contents of which were liberally applied by Hadj
Hamed over our heads, down our backs, and everywhere about us. Lastly,
the incense-burner was brought, with which, after incensing us all
round, he smoked all our hats in turn, and Maclean’s turban. So ended
Hadj Hamed’s feast, during the whole of which a gallery of veiled ladies
looked down upon us, one or two, presumably the best-looking,
occasionally discovering their charms. Our host has only lately been
married—on Saturday last—and a continual round of feasting has been
going on ever since; but the occasion of our honouring him has, so he
says, been the “consummation of his marriage.” Our servants had great
feastings while we were at dinner, and much regret was expressed by our
host that the English servants were not of the number; he begged, in
fact, to be allowed to send for them. Considering, however, the close
propinquity of Hadj Hamed’s numerous harem, and the possibility of its
not being regarded by the two _valets de chambre_ in the same sacred
light with which we have brought ourselves to view these establishments,
we thought it better not to lead into such temptation those for whose
morals we should be held responsible. We took a short ride round on our
way home, but the amount of kuskussú our grooms had consumed made it a
matter of expediency to send them straight home to digest.
The number of sick and maimed brought to our Esculapius for treatment
seems to increase daily. Doubtless many more would like to come, and
probably the preference is given to the one who can afford the highest
tip to the soldier on duty at the gate. The medico’s tent, though well
adapted for consulting patients, is pitched a little too near the Kiosk
where we feed to admit of much practical surgery being carried on in
secret, and to-day, immediately after breakfast, the moans of a poor
miserable-looking creature, who was being operated on for tumour in the
neck, attracted my attention. The doctor’s Moorish servant, “Máho,” was
holding the lad’s head, the operating theatre being the garden walk, and
the doctor was wiping his instrument on a geranium leaf! Notwithstanding
this necessarily rough-and-ready system, the amount of relief afforded
to the applicants is great. The doctor did not, naturally, anticipate
the numbers who would come for help, so the instruments he has with him
are merely those for field surgery, while the supply of medicine at his
disposal is wholly unequal to the demand; the latter, moreover, has to
be economised in case of dysentery, cholera, or other epidemic attacking
the Mission. Eye diseases are the commonest form of ailment which are
brought for treatment, and would afford rare practice for an oculist.
Walking in the town, the number of people with only one eye that one
sees is incredible; even in little children it seems as common as with
adults, the only people with usually the full complement being the
women. Of this style of affliction, smallpox, ophthalmia, &c., are the
chief causes.[38]
CHAPTER X.
Exhibition of Heliographs, &c.—Breach of etiquette—Sultan Mulai
Hassan—Refusal to be photographed—Phonograph—Ancestry of
Sultan—Exclusiveness—Business of State—Breakfast at the Kaïd el
Meshwa’s—Moorish architecture—Dinner with Bashaw of Fez—His
harem—The Prophet on women.
_Saturday, 24th April 1880._
To-day had been appointed for the exhibition of the scientific
instruments to His Majesty. The telephone had been got into pretty good
working order between the two tents on the grass walk of the garden, and
one heliograph was to be sent out to a hill overlooking the palace,
while the other was to be worked from the wall of the palace enclosure.
As the hill was my destination, I dressed in plain clothes (the others
whose presence was required at the palace being in uniform), much to my
servant’s surprise, who “thought I had to go before the king.”
Accompanied by the khalífa, and attended by an escort, and a man
carrying one of the heliographic instruments on horseback in front of
him, we rode out through the gate of the town, and up the slopes of the
Jebel Zalag on the north side of the city. We took up a good position,
and were shortly joined by Kaïd Maclean and M. Erckmann. Haynes in the
meantime had placed his instrument on the battlements of the palace
wall; but whether from the day being very cloudy, or from some branches
of a tree having got in front of his mirror, the signalling was
difficult to read. The first message which I got, “The Sultan is just
coming,” obliged me to ask the French officer kindly to postpone an
address on the working of their code, which he was delivering close to
my ear for the khalífa’s and my benefit, and also to make the circle of
soldiers keep their heads away from the front of the instrument. One of
them, more inquisitive than his comrades, would continue to get in the
light, so I turned the full flash, without warning, into his eyes, upon
which he fled howling and terror-stricken from the spot, and did not
turn up again during the séance. The first question the Sultan asked,
after the system had been explained to him, was, “How many horses are
there with you?” which question was at once followed by a mounted
soldier galloping up to see if the “instrument” had spoken the truth.
The sun behaved as was to be expected in a strict Mussulman country with
infidels taking such liberties with it, and was frequently obscured by
dark clouds hurrying past with a low flight on the strong westerly
breeze. Sometimes my instrument was obscured, and sometimes my
colleague’s, so signalling was tiresome and unsatisfactory, and I was
glad of His Majesty’s final message, “The Sultan wishes you to come at
once,” upon which I got on my horse and galloped down to the palace
gate. An official had been sent to the entrance to frank me through, so
I met with no opposition, and joined the other members of the Mission in
the garden. They had finished with the telephone, and His Majesty, whose
brain was fatigued by its unwonted exertion, had retired for a little to
rest. In the meantime L. was busy putting into order the phonograph,—an
instrument of his own construction, which he brought here to astonish
the Moor, and which has procured him the title of the “kaïd with the
devil in a box.” It had been taken into one of the rooms off the
corridor which leads to the palace, and having only this morning
undergone its journey thither, took some time to get into working order,
and its performance even then was indifferent. The room we were waiting
in had a piano, and some musical boxes—one with figures of performing
animals—and was scantily furnished with, among other things, a large
old-fashioned sofa; upon this Zouche and the doctor, thinking no evil,
quietly seated themselves, but were quickly brought to their bearings by
Síd Hamed ben Músa, the minister in attendance, and Síd Búbakr, who,
rushing towards them, raised them up hurriedly but respectfully, saying,
through Sir John, that it was a grave breach of etiquette for any one
“to make use of His Majesty’s seat.”
[Illustration: VERANDA OF PALACE, WITH THE “EYEBROW” IN BACKGROUND.]
Presently the approach of the monarch was announced, and quite
unattended he walked in from the direction of the palace steps.
Considerably over six feet in height, and broad in proportion, the
Sultan, Mulai Hassan, has a fine and commanding appearance; his face,
which is of a rich hazel colour, with slight black whiskers, moustache
and beard, is decidedly handsome; his eyes, which are large and of a
dark brown colour, have an expression of sadness, while his whole face
has an anxious and _hunted_ look. His dress was quite simple, being
almost entirely white, and his whole figure, including his head, was
enveloped in a pure white haïk of beautifully fine texture. We are, of
course, very anxious to obtain a photograph of His Majesty, and with a
view to accomplishing this design the camera had been placed in a corner
of the room all ready for the “assistant,” as we call Herbert White, to
take a portrait while the Sultan was listening to Sir John’s description
of the phonograph. On this little ruse, however, His Excellency put his
veto, so the attempt had to be abandoned. His Majesty, as he entered,
moved round to the farther side of the table on which the “box with the
devil” was placed, facing the terrace; but before he bestowed a glance
on the instrument, the camera in the corner caught his eye, and,
divining its use, the look he gave it was one of anger and fear
combined. He listened courteously, however, to His Excellency’s
explanations of the phonograph, but turned his eyes every now and then
uneasily towards the photographic apparatus, of which he clearly had
heard the use. To illustrate the properties of the phonograph, His
Excellency asked that a bugler might be sent for; but owing to some
previous arrangement by the commander-in-chief, who heard that one would
be wanted by the Nazarenes in connection with their experiments, none
were forthcoming. The commander-in-chief is brother of the Grand Vizier,
and like him a cordial hater of Christianity and its abominations. The
musical capabilities of the instrument were therefore not brought into
play except by a simple air its exhibitor favoured us with. A slave,
too, who was in attendance outside was called, and ordered to “sing into
it;” but whether from fear of the instrument, or awe in the presence of
Majesty, his voice was so faint that hardly any sound came back.
Photography was next brought on the _tapis_, and a picture lately taken
of Síd Búbakr was shown to the Sultan, who recognised it at once. He
positively declined, however, to allow himself to be taken; but as he
wished to see the process, the camera was taken out on the terrace, and
the assistant took up a position in front of it to illustrate the
effect. The royal head being put under the black velvet cloth, of course
saw W. standing upside down, so was withdrawn at once to see if such
were really the case. He seemed, however, to be only partially convinced
by seeing the object standing in his natural position, and I think the
apparition in the camera so startled him as to render abortive any
further endeavours to get him to stand fire. Considering, however, that
the process of portraiture is forbidden by the laws of the religion of
which he is supreme head, one cannot really blame him for not violating
them in his own person, though, according to the Koran, it seems to be
the _artist_ who will suffer, and not the subject; for the dictum of the
Prophet is that “any one making a picture will be asked at the day of
judgment to endow his creation with life and soul, and if unable, shall
endure the punishment of Hell.” A plate was presently got ready, and Sir
John having inveigled the Eyebrow and Síd Búbakr to stand up beside him,
they were photographed in a row, with some of us in the background, His
Majesty being much tickled at the Chief of his Household being thus
practised upon. After they were polished off, the camera was turned
_accidentally_ to where Sir John was engaged in conversation with His
Majesty; but the latter seeing how instantaneously the others had been
taken, became alarmed for himself, and communicated his fears to the
Envoy. His Excellency, though the chief promoter of the plot, so
heartily vented his righteous indignation on the artists for the liberty
they were taking, that His Majesty’s suspicions were allayed, the
photographers disclaiming at the same time the sinister intentions
attributed to them. The Sultan, then, having graciously thanked us
through Sir John for all our trouble, and having been promised copies of
the photographs taken in his “happy dominions,”[39] withdrew; and
shortly afterwards we also took our departure.
The present Sultan only came to the throne seven years ago, having
succeeded his father, Sídi Muhammed, in 1873. Their family have sat on
the throne for about 240 years, and are of the race of Sharífs, or
direct descendants of the Prophet (hence their title of “Sharífian”
Majesty, which sometimes puzzles strangers), and this religious title
and connection establishes their authority over some of their subjects
much more firmly than any temporal sovereignty could do. Mulai Hassan
looks about thirty-five years of age, and though very tall and
powerfully built, has a curious shuffling way of walking, as if he was
rather gone about the knees. He seems to shrink from publicity, and has
only once been seen outside the palace by any of the Mission since our
arrival. Having, however, some four hundred ladies in his establishment,
his domestic duties probably confine him a good deal to the house, and,
anyhow, one can scarcely be surprised at his not choosing the streets of
his capital to ride about in. In his dress he eschews all show and
colour, the only exception to this being a light blue silk cord, from
which a leather bag or a dagger is suspended; of jewellery he has none,
except a plain diamond ring set in silver—gold and other finery being
forbidden by the Koran, the laws of which he has the credit of observing
very strictly. The Envoy has already had several audiences of His
Majesty, who always lends a ready ear to his counsels, as indeed have
his father and grandfather before him. The latter monarch, Mulai
Abd-er-Rahman, ruled Marocco for forty years, dying in 1860, when he was
succeeded by Sídi Muhammed. In Mulai Abd-er-Rahman’s time a foreign
envoy had to stand during the entire time of even a private interview
with the Sultan; now he is accommodated with a chair, but he never
enters beyond the threshold of the palace, and upon no occasion has the
Sultan ever condescended to shake hands with a foreign ambassador.
As we left the palace to-day I noticed in the enclosure where our horses
were waiting for us a number of people sitting down on carpets ranged
along the foot of the wall, with canvas stretched over them as a
protection from the sun. I had paid no attention to them as I passed an
hour before on my return from signalling, but seeing the Grand Vizier
and Kaïd Maclean among the number, I asked the latter, who joined us,
who they all were. It seems this is the rendezvous for all ministers and
members of the Court; in fact, every department of the State is here
represented, and in this primitive council chamber is transacted the
business of the empire. They meet every morning at six, and remain at
their work or waiting the Sultan’s orders till half-past ten, when they
are allowed to go. To-day, on our account, they had been kept till after
twelve, which explained the black looks with which they favoured us; and
I hear that seeing me ride up unattended, and being admitted without
delay into the palace—an operation which takes them many hours and even
days—had made me a special object of aversion.
_Sunday, 25th April 1880._
We rode in a downpour of rain to breakfast with the Kaïd el Meshwa, to
whose house we had paid a preliminary visit some days ago.
If it were not for the ghastly cups of green tea on an empty stomach,
which form a prelude to all these entertainments, they would be more
endurable and less deleterious; but with such a preliminary shock to
one’s nerves, it is trying to sit down to some fifteen courses of
curiously compounded dishes, with the cold gray eye of the host, to say
nothing of His Excellency’s, watching whether you do sufficient justice
to the viands, and injustice to your interior. Another great drawback is
being unable to say anything, except through an interpreter, who is
rarely brought with us; consequently, the only conversation that takes
place is between Sir John and our hosts; the latter always enquire
minutely into the capabilities and antecedents of each member of the
Mission—information which His Excellency is always ready to afford, and
which he apparently accompanies by personal anecdotes of a piquant
character, judging from the smiles he elicits from the enquirer.
The kaïd’s unfortunate son with the wounded leg was limping about the
patio while we were at breakfast, and looking very unhappy. As he has
steadily refused to allow the doctor to examine the wound, of course
nothing could be done except to pretend to believe his foolish excuses.
“Why do you not let the English doctor examine your leg?” asked His
Excellency. “Well, curiously enough, as soon as the _tabíb_ spoke to me
about probing it, the leg began to get better, and next morning the
bullet fell out.” “Ah,” replied Sir John, “you are like the man with the
toothache, who, just as the doctor was going to pull out the tooth, said
all the pain was gone.” “Yes,” replied the youth innocently, “I am just
like that man.”
Besides patients who came to our camp for advice, the doctor has a
considerable practice in the town, and may often be seen going out on
his errands of mercy attended by Tweedledee as interpreter and general
assistant. The latter has a keen eye for the fair sex, and is as much
disappointed as any of us in the strictness of the regulations, which
prevent one seeing anything of a woman’s face, beyond two large and
generally very beautiful eyes.
The other day he came to me, his simple and expressive countenance
radiant with joy; “The doctor, thir, go to thee the thtomach of a
merchant’s wife, who is ill; perhapth I thee more of her than the eye.”
In the evening I said, “Well Mr. Náhum, and how about the merchant’s
wife?” “Ah, thir, thee what bruth’s these Moors are; I go in with the
doctor, then they put me behind the curtain, and make me tranthlate with
my back! and I thee nothing.”
It had been arranged that some of us were to start in a day or two for
Mequinez, joining His Excellency and the remainder of the party, who
were to leave a few days later, at Rabât. Now, however, the Sultan has
decreed that we must be entertained by his _Hájeb_[40] and by the
governor of Fez, before leaving; so our start is delayed. In the
meantime it has occurred to the heads of departments, including Síd
Búbakr, that Mequinez being a very little off the road to Rabât, we had
better, for the sake of comfort and safety, as the neighbourhood is one
of extremely evil repute, all start together on Tuesday week—a plan of
which we all approve.
[Illustration: RUIN NEAR FEZ.]
Riding this afternoon in the neighbourhood of the town, we came upon a
most enormous fig-tree, a specimen which would certainly “whip creation”
in that department, and must be, as the Moors call it, “the father of
fig-trees.” We also discovered a less inviting object in the shape of a
huge mound outside one of the gates redolent with putrid bodies—camels,
dogs, horses, donkeys—all thrown out there promiscuously, and left to
rot. The stench was appalling, and we galloped past with our
handkerchiefs to our noses, much to the astonishment of our escort, who
seemed to notice nothing disagreeable in this golgotha.
We came back by the north side of the town, past an old quarry, from
which most of the building material must have come; now it is disused,
and laid out in little gardens. The old wall of the town seems a fine
piece of work, and if it is four or five hundred years old, as they
affirm, has lasted well. There must be about five miles of it in
circumference, and the old Moorish arch which appears in all the
numerous gateways is pretty and unique. Where repairs have been executed
in any of these, the arch is replaced by a modern and ordinary one; but
I notice the reproduction of the old form in most of their modern
architecture, and even the wickets of the big doors of rooms, and the
pattern of the velvet dados, perpetuate the ancient horseshoe shape.
To-night we were invited to dine with the Bashaw, or Governor of Fez. It
is he who has been grinding down and squeezing our unfortunate friends
at Beni Aamer, besides having been guilty of countless other acts of
despotic cruelty and injustice. To some of these the Sultan’s eyes have
apparently been opened, and a further tenure of two months of office is
all the old villain is to have. What else may be in store for him, and
whether ruin and imprisonment await him, it would be hard to say.
Already the Sultan has made him pay large extra sums into the Treasury
out of what he has extorted from the people; but he is fortunately
unaware of the satisfaction we feel in his approaching downfall. Were he
cognisant of it, something stronger than tea might have been provided
for our benefit to-night! We were late in starting—about a quarter to
eight; the night was dark and rainy, and our ride to the house took
nearly an hour. Preceded by a guard of soldiers on foot and horseback,
all carrying torches or lanterns, we rode for a long time through an
intricate maze of streets, up and down hill, our horses sliding about in
all directions. It was a curious and weird procession through the dark
and deserted town, the silence of which was only broken by the yells of
the Moors in attendance, and the curses, not loud but deep, of the
Christians, as our heads came into too close proximity with the top of
some dark subterranean passage, under which we had scarcely room to
ride. At last we arrived at the gate of the Bashaw’s garden, which is
situated some way out of the town, and must be large and well worth
seeing, judging from what we could make of it by the light of the lamps
which hung in clusters on the orange-trees. A stream ran through the
grounds, working a huge Persian wheel which creaked and groaned
ominously, as if protesting against this nocturnal incursion of
Nazarenes. Two lines of soldiers and picturesquely dressed slaves, of
whom he has about 800, were drawn up at the doorway at which we
alighted, and after being led through a long passage, we were received
by our host at the foot of a staircase, and taken up to a large room,
along one side of which was arranged a row of chairs for us. The
Governor having placed the Envoy on his right hand, pointed to the chair
on his left, saying, “I suppose another of the principal guests will sit
here;” but was a little discomposed at Sir John placing Miss Hay—who had
been persuaded to accompany us—in it, and explaining that it was “the
custom in Europe to give ladies a place of honour.” The Bashaw is an old
man of nearly eighty, I should say, and, full of years and wickedness,
is of course aware of the penalty which usually attaches to men in
Government employ who have amassed large sums of money from the people,
and which renders it a matter of wonder how any one can be got to take
office under such a _régime_. His appearance is by no means against him,
and there was something benevolent and venerable in his face, which bore
the sad expression of one who is not only near his death, but knows he
must give an account of his stewardship both before and after that
event. Poor old man! I shall never see him again, but quite pitied him,
notwithstanding his iniquities, when I thought how soon this lordly
pleasure-house he had raised would become the property of another and
more favoured retainer of the Sultan.
The centre of the room was occupied by a large table covered with
sweetmeats, which within half an hour was twice cleared and laid again,
owing probably to some mistake in the programme. Round two sides of the
room there ran a broad and lofty passage supported on massive square
pillars as high as the ceiling, and along this passage was seated a band
of musicians, who kept up the most intolerable clangour; the worst
property of their airs being a sort of barbarous harmony, which runs in
one’s head for a long time afterwards. A number of Moors, too, guests of
the Governor, were seated cross-legged against the wall, having been
bidden to assist at the strange scene which was being enacted by order
of their sovereign. In an adjoining room, which opened into and almost
formed part of the one we were in, there were seated about thirty more
natives, all in faultless costume and evidently belonging to the _élite_
of Fez. While the music, vocal and instrumental, was making the place
re-echo with its barbaric strains, I noticed that all these gentlemen,
in the intervals of tea-drinking and conversation, were occupied in
telling their beads—a custom which I have remarked prevails only among
believers of the upper class. His Excellency meanwhile discoursed
pleasantly with our host on the subject of railways and telegraphs, to
which remarks the Bashaw courteously listened, while in secret he was
doubtless laughing at the improbable falsehoods with which he imagined
he was being entertained. At the end of the room by which we came in
there was a continual bustle and passing to and fro of slaves;
occasionally one would bring a folded note to the Governor, or Síd
Búbakr, who, it is unnecessary to say, was of the party, would cross the
room and say a few words to him in a low, mysterious tone. Standing
against the pillar directly opposite the Bashaw were two very handsome
slaves, whose anxiety to anticipate any sign, and nervousness when
speaking or listening to their master, were painful to witness, as
indicating the style of discipline the old tyrant keeps up in his
establishment. They always approached him with the lowest reverence, and
the one to whom he addressed himself would kneel or stoop down in front
of him, throwing back the corner of his flowing cloak over his shoulder,
which manœuvre is considered a sign of the most abject submission. After
being deafened for nearly an hour by the din of the musicians, we were
relieved from the apprehension of having to eat our dinner with such a
numerous gallery looking on, by our host leading the way upstairs to a
most elaborately decorated room, the vaulted ceiling and arched doorways
of which were the prettiest workmanship of the kind I have yet seen. The
servants of the legation were there with our own knives and forks, and
it was a sore trial to our gravity to watch our host, who sat at the
head of his table between His Excellency and me, trying to make use of
these unknown implements. He looked just like an old baboon
unsuccessfully imitating the manners of a human being, as he raised a
piece of meat between the point of the knife and fork—using both of them
at once to shovel the morsel into his mouth. Apprehensive of an
accident, Sir John entreated him to use his fingers, saying, “After all,
Bashaw, our manner of feeding ourselves is a modern invention, and there
can be no shame in using the means God gave us;” then, suiting the
action to the words, His Excellency so vigorously applied these same
means in dissecting a piece of fowl in front of him, that the Bashaw
took courage by his example, and discontinued his hazardous experiments.
At this dinner, Sir John having previously asked permission of our host,
Síd Búbakr was invited to sit at the foot of the table, and the Governor
addressing him, said, “It is a great pleasure to me to obey my
sovereign’s commands by asking the representative of a great and
friendly power to dinner at my house; but all that I can do for him does
not show half the regard my master has for the ambassador.” To this
speech Sir John replied, “I have heard with pleasure the kind sentiments
of His Majesty expressed by the Bashaw, and am glad to think they
express the feelings the Moorish Government entertains towards the
British, of which I am the humble representative.”
I fancied that as our host, who is a man of some culture and experience,
endeavoured to make himself agreeable, and as dish after dish of really
very edible viands made their appearance, we must have all felt a
certain inward pity for the doomed man whose downfall we had lately
heard was very near. His courteous manners and his high position made us
for the time forget his misdeeds; and as our hearts warmed over his good
cheer, we could not help thinking in how short a time all these
evidences of wealth and luxury would be gone, and how the poor Bashaw,
who did not see as clearly as we did the writing on the wall, would go
forth unfriended and alone, to spend the few years left him more
miserably perhaps than even some of those who had been the victims of
his cruelty and oppression.
There were six glazed doors in the room we dined in, with curtains drawn
down over them on the farther side. Noticing a slight movement at the
foot of one of them, I observed a young lady lying at full length behind
it, with her face against the glass, rapt in wonder at the strange sight
she saw. I caught her eye—a very pretty one—and wholly unabashed she
returned my gaze, seeming, in fact, to enjoy it rather; but afraid of
getting her into disgrace with her owner, should he detect her levity, I
only indulged in an occasional glance. It is distracting to live in the
midst of so much beauty, and never to be able to enjoy it, and, with the
Ancient Mariner, one feels inclined to cry, “Water, water everywhere,
but not a drop to drink.” _Apropos_ of that element, some of us brought
flasks of brandy in our pockets to-night, with which we liberally
seasoned the water provided by our host, till at last, as His Excellency
remarked, the room “smelt like the bar of a public-house.” It, however,
served a double purpose in washing down the dinner and helping to soften
our hearts towards the Governor.
Accompanied by the Bashaw and Síd Búbakr, who has a daughter married to
the old reprobate, Miss Hay was taken to visit the harem, where one
lively young lady, unaware that her lord and master was sitting behind a
curtain near the door, said to her, “Now, suppose your father ordered
you to marry a horrid old black man like the Bashaw, would you have to
do it?”—a question which, under the circumstances, was rather
embarrassing to answer. That the position of a lady in this old
potentate’s establishment is by no means an enviable one, may be
imagined from the fact of his having a habit, when out of temper and in
want of amusement, of rushing about his harem on all fours, snarling at
and even biting the inmates like a wild animal. But, besides being
subject to such vagaries on the part of their owners, with whom love is
a thing of the past, the life of many of these wretched girls, if they
have any more ideas than an oyster or a cabbage, must be, according to
our notions of existence, sad in the extreme. Given away at a very early
age to some one they perhaps have never seen,—possibly for family
reasons to a wretched old creature like our host of to-night,—they spend
their best years as victims to his caprice, and at his death are
disposed of like so many animals, as the Sultan or their immediate
superior may think fit. It seems strange that among the many wise maxims
of the Prophet there are so few which entail the showing of respect or
honour to women, the more so as he was a devoted admirer of the sex,
whom he holds forth as the chief reward hereafter of the orthodox
believer. In one part of the Koran, however, he does, though rather
doubtingly, assign to our female friends a place in heaven, where “it is
not impossible we may meet them hereafter.”
CHAPTER XI.
Breakfast at the “Eyebrow’s”—The late Síd Músa—Second
sight—Death of Grand Vizier—Moorish customs—Marocco at
Chatham—Cursed by a saint—Professional Story-teller—Shallow
graves—Slave-market—Treatment of slaves.
_Tuesday, 27th April 1880._
We had breakfast this morning at the house of Síd Hamed ben Músa, the
lively and bustling little courtier whose title is Hájeb, or “Eyebrow,”
of the Sultan. Our guide led us a long way round, apparently for the
sole purpose of making us pass the very unsavoury heap, outside the
town, that I described before, the smell of which, under the action of
the hot morning sun, was pleasant and _appétissant_ to an empty stomach.
Dismounting at the gate of the Eyebrow’s garden, we heard that he had
just been sent for by the Sultan, so we sat down and awaited his return.
The room into which we were shown was curiously furnished—French
four-posters, Buhl cabinets, artificial flowers, and last, but not
least, no fewer than thirteen clocks! Till our host came we were
entertained by an elderly man with a long grey beard and finely cut
features, who, we were told, had spent some time in England, having
returned from there six years ago. He had also travelled all over
Europe. Now, I thought, is an opportunity of getting some ideas first
hand, without the medium of an interpreter. But I was disappointed in my
man, whose reasons for not speaking in any language but his own were
decidedly Moorish. “I used to understand English and to talk it,” he
explained through Sir John; “but since I came home I noticed the ugly
accent with which Moors at Tangier speak that language, so gave it up at
once, and shall never express myself in anything but Arabic again;” and
certainly no entreaty would make him break through his singular resolve.
The little Hájeb presently arrived, and made his excuses in the most
touching manner. “I am glad I am late,” he said to the Envoy, “as now I
find you all at home in my house; so I will be your guest, and you shall
be my hosts.” Síd Hamed ben Músa is the son of the late Grand Vizier,
Síd Músa, who died about a year ago, and who, besides being a man of
commanding appearance and advanced views, was respected by the Sultan as
one of his ablest advisers. A curious story is told about him, which I
noted down at the time it was translated to me. It appears Síd Músa,
like many Moors, had a firm belief in what we in Scotland call second
sight, and shortly before his death sent to a hill tribe for a man who
was reputed to possess this gift. The sage having been brought in fear
and trembling before the great man, was asked if he could tell him what
the future had in store for him. “Do you want to hear the truth, and
will you pardon me, whatever it is?” “Yes,” replied the minister; “I
want to hear all you can tell me.” It was some time before the answer
came, hesitatingly, but as pleasantly worded as the circumstances would
allow. “Within three weeks you will be embracing the houris in
paradise.” Soon after this Síd Músa was taken ill with a sort of low
fever, and whether the words of the hill-man affected him, so that he
could not shake it off, it is difficult to say, but at all events he
soon felt that his end was at hand. Therefore, being a hereditary
bondsman of the Sultan, and knowing that the enormous property he had
amassed would pass to him at his death, he sent for his favourite women,
and giving them each a parcel containing jewels and money, took leave of
them. Being too ill to move, the Sultan at his earnest request came at
night to see him, and to bid farewell to one who had been his best
friend and counsellor. “I hope at my death,” said the Vizier, “your
Majesty will not appoint my son successor in the office; he is clever
and intelligent, but unfit to govern.” “It shall be as you wish,”
replied the Sultan, who at the minister’s death made the son “chief of
the household,” in which capacity he entertained us to-day. The dying
statesman then continued, “I am your Majesty’s bondsman, and all I have
is yours. I have amassed one and a half million dollars and a quantity
of jewels, besides much property, of which here is a list I have made
out.” “The money and jewels,” said his master, “having been gathered
from my governors and people, will, as is the custom, revert to my
treasury, but all your other property shall go to your son.” This was an
act, in this country, of great liberality on His Majesty’s part, as
besides houses and land, Síd Músa had over a thousand slaves in his
establishment at the time of his death. He died the day following this
interview with his lord, and within a month of the time he had consulted
the man with second sight. He was succeeded by the present Vizier, a man
far inferior to him in talent; but as it is unbecoming to speak evil of
dignities, especially during their tenure of power, I will let my former
description of him suffice. There was nothing unusual about our
breakfast at the “Eyebrow’s,” except that Sir John, being out of sorts,
ate nothing, and Síd Hamed, to keep him in countenance, or because he
felt nervous about tackling a knife and fork, did the same. This is
probably our last Moorish feast, and I can confidently say that from a
careful study of their mode of eating and of living generally, there is
no comfort to be found in any of the habits of these people, so far at
least as I am acquainted with them; nor does their great divergence from
the principles of what we call civilisation procure for them greater
pleasure in life than is enjoyed by less barbarous nations. They get up
at unearthly hours, and associate, except when in their harems, with no
one but their own sex, of whom they must get very tired, and whose
converse with each other must be robbed of almost all interest and
reality by the national and inbred practice of lying and deceit. Then,
even the society of their womenkind, though they know that, as far as
human precautions go, they must be sole possessors of their hands if not
of their hearts, must be very wearisome after a little, utterly ignorant
as the women are, except through the gossip of slaves and eunuchs, of
what is passing in the outer world. Unable in almost every case to read
and write, they spend their whole time in eating, sleeping, and
quarrelling with each other—uninteresting companions for a man of any
intellect or culture to associate with; and in point of fact, no such
companionship is ever expected from them. The way of eating, too, to
which I alluded, and about which they are very conservative, is the acme
of discomfort. They even argue on the excellence of their own system as
opposed to ours, as I noticed at breakfast lately at the Grand Vizier’s.
“See,” said the Vizier, with an idiotic grin of superiority, “all of us
three eat with our fingers, while the Bashador is obliged by English
custom to use a knife and fork; we have the advantage of you.” “Well,”
replied the Envoy, “the superior cleanliness of my way of eating is
manifest; here am I ready to shake hands with any one who may come in,
write a note if necessary, or open one, while you are all up to your
wrists in mutton fat.” “At all events, you have a ready answer for us,”
interposed His Majesty’s chief treasurer, who was of the party; and as a
matter of fact His Excellency generally has.
One of the three officers who has gone through a course at Chatham came
to me to-day for a lesson on the heliograph. I must say the result of
their two years’ studies there does them great credit, as they not only
had to master English thoroughly as a preliminary, but made such good
use of the time that remained that they seem a fair imitation, at all
events to one who has not the advantage of belonging to that scientific
corps, of the ordinary article turned out at Chatham. It would be
unjust, however, to include the attainments of all three in the same
category; two are moderately intelligent, plodding sort of men, who, by
their own account, worked hard and lived very quietly when in England;
the third, though more highly gifted by nature, abandoning the precepts
of the Prophet and allying himself with Satan and the British officer,
seems to have had an idle though pleasant time of it. The first part of
his name, Síd Drís, is followed by a high-sounding and sonorous affix,
“Ben Abd el Wáhad,” which being interpreted signifies “son of the slave
of the one (God),” hardly applicable to the individual in question,
whose chief topic of conversation relates to “les femmes, le jeu, et le
vin,” in which he indulged in the Modern Babylon. Síd Muhammed Gavass,
another of them, is a painstaking, quiet individual, but has some
obliquity of vision (physical, not moral like his friend’s), which makes
him a bad pupil in the art of heliography. He seems anxious to know our
opinion of Marocco, and is glad to hear we like the country. He quite
appreciates the misfortune of so much of it lying waste, though I hardly
credit the reason he assigns for this, viz. that the soil will not bear
crops two years running. He cannot account for their not using manure in
the fields, as he says they always do in their gardens—a fact to which
the good vegetables we get testify. A “patent-point-protected pencil,”
with which I was making out a Morse-Arabic alphabet for him, excited his
admiration, and as he said “the Sultan was anxious for one,” I gave it
him for the purpose of presentation to His Majesty, perfectly aware, as
was he, that it would not get nearer that destination than his own
pocket.
They are all forgetting their English very rapidly, and I am afraid
their other accomplishments will, in time, follow suit. I never can
grasp the name of the best linguist of the three, it is something
between a cough and a sneeze; he answers among us, however, to the
patronymic of “Skirritch,”[41] which he may or may not have received
from his godfathers and godmother, and has been wonderfully quick in
learning the adjustment of the heliograph.
[Illustration: STORY TELLER AND AUDIENCE]
In an afternoon ride with Miss Hay, the khalífa, and Zouche, we came
upon a bridge which crosses the Sebú, about four miles below the town.
The river there is about 70 yards across, with a swift current; and the
bridge is well built, and of solid masonry. It is not of Roman work, so
must have been built by a Sultan of some bygone age, when the use of
stone in building was better understood than now; it is in good repair,
and on the track of the caravans going and returning from Tafilet and
Timbuctoo. Near the river we met a beggar man, who turned round and
cursed us so volubly that even the ire of the khalífa, who is slow to
wrath, was roused; and two of our escort, seeing that the compliments
were understood and appreciated by him, galloped after the man, with a
view to chastisement. Presently they came back and reported that the
offender had got away among some rocks, and eluded them; but I am
inclined to think there was an odour of sanctity about him which made
the soldiers lax in their pursuit. We kept outside the town as much as
possible on our way back, to avoid the Scylla of narrow streets and
nauseous smells, but encountered a Charybdis in the shape of numerous
graves, dug very shallow, and from which emanated a most sickening
odour. This was being thoroughly enjoyed by a crowd of people who were
listening to a professional story-teller, who holds forth every evening
to a large audience seated among the graves. There must certainly be
something intrinsically healthy in this place to counteract the effect
of the awful nuisances, chiefly in the way of neglected carcases and
scantily-buried bodies, which surround us everywhere, and which would
otherwise sow disease more broadcast than they do. One advantage in the
system of shallow graves in a country where burial follows very quickly
on death, is the facility for disinterring yourself, should your friends
have been a little premature in their final arrangements. As they only
wrap their dead in a white cloth, with no restriction in the way of
coffins; and as the grave is barely two feet deep, in loose sandy soil,
there is little to prevent a person of ordinary energy from rejoining
his friends, should he find himself a victim of too precipitate
sepulture. Our native servants have got a story just now of a man who
was buried “accidentally” a few Sundays ago, reappearing unexpectedly at
the public sôk the following Monday. I cannot vouch for the truth of it;
but _se non è vero è ben trovato_.
I have paid two visits to the slave market, the first time accompanied
by Zouche and the medico, with Tweedledee as guide, interpreter, and
friend, as usual; on the second occasion, with only the latter worthy
and a couple of soldiers. There is less twaddle talked about slavery in
Marocco than is the case elsewhere, by the Exeter Hall community,
possibly because it is known that the only petitions sent by slaves here
to British representatives have been, so I am told, to request that the
institution may not be done away with; and certainly, judging by the
well-fed and cheerful appearance of all the slaves one sees here, there
can be little hardship in their lot.[42] Notwithstanding our being aware
of this fact, I fancy that we three Christians (Tweedledee is an
Israelite), as we rode along through the miserable alleys to the spot
where the “abominable traffic” was carried on, were not quite free from
the idea—I was on the point of writing hope—that, on turning the corner
into the yard where the market was held, we should see a batch of
victims fastened by the neck to an iron bar, while savage “drivers” with
long cowhide whips, _Kúbba la_ Uncle Tom’s Cabin, would be keeping them
in order. This, of course, is what ought, according to sensational ideas
on the subject, to have met our view. What we did see was half a dozen
people selling grain, about fifty idlers loafing about, or looking at a
few mules which were for sale; while, in a corner, under a sort of shed,
sat a couple of black women chatting together and with the bystanders;
while in front of them squatted a negro, with a surly expression of
countenance, but well clad, and in excellent condition. These three
individuals were the only slaves there for sale; but as we were a little
early, and trade in Fez, as elsewhere, is dull, we determined to stay a
short time, and see what happened. Although there was nothing in the
appearance of the parties chiefly concerned to denote any dislike to the
system, it gave us strangers rather a turn to see one’s
fellow-creatures—one of them in this case young and pretty—put there for
sale, exactly the same as the mules in the opposite corner, though at a
lower figure. Nor was it pleasant to watch intending purchasers eyeing
them over like cattle, and drawing down the veil from the face of one of
the girls to examine her teeth, in much the same way as a man was doing
to one of the said mules on the other side. The loss or badness of teeth
is considered not only as a blemish, but as likely to interfere with the
digestion, and in consequence, the general health of the “article.”
Slaves are, for the most part, as black and ugly as all other negroes
from the interior, though some of the women have pretty brown
complexions and pleasing features. They are brought from the Soudan by
Moorish traders, a common mode of catching them being by scattering
sweetmeats, or, in hard times, corn, outside the villages. This is
continued in a line to some covert close by, just as a poacher at home
entices pheasants with raisins, when the children (they are mostly young
when abstracted) are pounced upon and carried off by the trader. One of
the ladies—I think a wife—of the Grand Vizier, owes her present position
to this ingenious device; and many men have risen to lucrative and
honourable posts who commenced life in Marocco as slaves, and
subsequently obtained their freedom. Not many cases of ill-usage occur;
if they do, the victim can complain, and claim redress. He has to bring
his case before the Kádi, who, if he finds real cause for complaint,
orders the slave to be sold by auction, the former master being in no
case allowed to buy him in. Another regulation which tends to mitigate
the misfortune of their condition is that, if they wish to do so, they
may save money earned by extra work, and purchase their freedom. An
acquaintance of mine was once asked for a contribution towards this end,
and he gave it; but I question if the act was any more legal for a
British subject than that of buying a slave for the purpose of setting
him free; which latter proceeding, as calculated to encourage slavery,
is severely punishable by law. The Koran contains very strict rules
regarding masters and slaves, with their powers and rights respectively.
One of the most important is, that if a female slave bear a child to her
master, both mother and child are _ipso facto_ freed; though, as my
informant, who is the possessor of many slaves, told me, a man may have
a child by his friend’s slave without any such penalties attaching, the
child in fact becoming the property of its mother’s owner.
Owing to some suspicion on the part of the authorities, either of us or
of the soldiers with us, they would not put a slave up to auction while
we were there. Some people I asked said it was “harámi”[43] to sell a
slave to a Christian, and that they were afraid I should outbid them,
and insist on removing my purchase; others, that the superintendent of
the market knew that the English disliked slavery, and thought we were
there for the purpose of getting their Government into trouble. Whatever
might be the reason—and we knew it was improbable they had given us a
true one—we saw they were determined our curiosity should not be
gratified; and one might as easily move a mountain as a Moor who has
made up his mind. When unaccompanied by cruelty, and properly looked
after, as the sale of slaves here seems to be, the system is not so very
unlike that which prevailed till recently in Scotland at “Feeing
Fares,”[44] where farm labourers, male and female, used to be exposed
for hire by people looking for servants.
My second visit to the market was equally fruitless as regards seeing
the actual auction, and the way the people mobbed one was very trying.
As we rode in there were not twenty people there, but in five minutes
the place was full, and we the lonely centre of a gaping crowd. If our
persecutors had only been of the buying class, we should have felt we
were benefiting trade by attracting them to the market; but they were
chiefly boys and idlers, who contented themselves with execrating us as
we rode away. “The brute-th that they are!” said Tweedledee; “why to
thtare tho at us?” and although, as regards myself, I am quite of
Tweedledee’s opinion, I cannot help feeling I should turn and take a
second look at _him_ if seeing him for the first time in the street.
The slavery of Christians was abolished in Marocco by treaty in 1814,
but in the year 1721 there were no fewer than eleven hundred Christian
slaves in Mequinez, the property of the aged Sultan Mulai Ismael. Of
these about three hundred were English, who had been in confinement
there many years, and subjected to the most revolting cruelties. An
interesting account of their ransom and release is to be found in
Windhus’s “Journey to Mequinez,” the author having accompanied Commodore
Stewart’s embassy to Marocco, which sailed from England in September
1720, for the redemption of the captives.
The price of negro slaves in Fez at present is, for a girl of sixteen or
eighteen, from 100 to 150 dollars, and for a lad of the same age, from
70 to 120 dollars. They seem to make capital servants.
CHAPTER XII.
Silver ornaments—Mosques—Market—Snake-charmers—Jews—Police
arrangements—Frequency of murders—Army reform—Good intentions of
Sultan—Unpaid officials—_Lex talionis_—Mock Sultan—Two remarkable
events.
Most of the silver ornaments one sees in the jewellers’ shops seem of
considerable age; and the ancient Moorish device of the horseshoe arch,
which is to be seen in all their architecture, is often reproduced in
brooches and earrings. Among other things I bought from an old Jew
called Yakúb, who occasionally visits the Legation, is an antique silver
snuff-box, apparently of Chinese manufacture; but how it came into
Yakúb’s possession he either could not or would not explain. Another
purchase was one of the silver brooches or clasps with which the ladies
fasten their haïks, and which bears a curious resemblance to the old
Scotch Lorne brooch. The price they all charge is the weight of the
article in Spanish dollars or French five-franc pieces, often charging
nothing extra for the work; so, if the silver is good—as we are assured
it is—I do not see where the profit comes from. They will always, if you
insist on it, allow the metal to be examined by the kaïd of the
silver-market before purchase; and as little short of his head would
atone for a Jew’s endeavour to swindle a Mussulman, I expect there is no
doubt as to the purity of the material.
In one of my walks through the town I tried to get a glimpse of the
Mulai Edris mosque, but was prevented going down the street in which it
is situated. From the little that one can see of the interior _en
passant_, it must be very beautiful and well cared for. The entrance is
supported on pillars of white marble, and the whole façade is richly
coloured and ornamented. This same Mulai Edris is a great gun here, and
seems to have a finger in every pie. He is said to have lived about one
thousand years ago, and his father, who came from Mecca and acquired a
great character for sanctity, is buried in a sacred town, which is named
after him, on Mount Zarhún.[45] Of real descendants they have none,
though the men who look after the shrine here in which the son, who was
founder of the city, is entombed, are said to represent them in some
way. There are other mosques larger than this, but none of such special
virtue. Among these is one called Kaa Ermiyel,or sometimes El Karuin,
which was founded long ago by a female saint; it is richly endowed, and
of immense extent, covering, apparently, almost an entire quarter of the
town. Its doors open into a succession of streets, and through each one
there are to be seen in every direction long vistas of white columns
vanishing away into space. The interior, in point of size at least, must
be magnificent; but the view is fleeting, for the Nazarene may not stop
to gaze on it, lest something should be hurled on his unbelieving head,
harder even than the curses of the moribund-looking wretches that lie
around the door.
Leo Africanus calls this mosque “Caruuen,” and describes it “of so
incredible a bignesse that the circuit thereof is a good mile and a
halfe about.... The turret from which they cry amayne to assemble people
is exceeding hie, the breadth whereof is supported with twentie, the
length with thirtie, pillars.”[46]
I heard Mulai Edris invoked this morning in a curious way at the
bi-weekly sôk, to which I rode at 7 A.M., with Mr. Náhum as interpreter.
It was just beginning, and the kaïd of the market, an active old man in
a blue uniform, came up and said that if we wanted to buy
anything—horses, mules, &c.—he would be glad to help us. After that he
got on his mule, and calling together all the men (about twenty) who had
mules for sale, he arranged them in a line with an open space in front
of them, round which a large crowd of people formed a circle; then, half
standing, half kneeling on the broad pack-saddle on his mule’s back,
with his slippers off, and amid the profound silence of the people, he
recited a prayer to Mulai Edris; then followed one for the Sultan,
another for the people and the mules, and in fact for every one except
the abandoned infidel and his Jewish companion who stood respectfully
looking on. At certain pauses he made, his hearers bowed their heads,
and, touching their hearts and foreheads with their hands, muttered some
responses, the only words I could make out being “Súltán” and “Mulai
Edris.” The old kaïd seemed really eloquent in his exhortation, and his
hearers were profoundly attentive. At the end of it the mules with their
riders started off at racing speed to the end of the open space in front
of them, then began to trot round in a circle, the owners vociferating
forth the price and excellent qualities of the animals; and then—the
“proceedings having been duly opened with prayer”—commenced vigorously
the chicanery and swindling which are their normal avocation. The market
was on a smaller scale than I expected, there being very few horses, and
not many cattle or sheep; both the latter stock, however, were of a
better quality than one usually sees in this country.
Passing back again into the town, we came upon a circle of people, with
some snake-charmers in their midst. One of the performers, seeing me
looking on, came up with a large snake in his hand, and opening its
mouth with a stick, showed me its fangs, about a quarter of an inch
long. I mentioned at breakfast having seen these people, so His
Excellency, by way of a treat, sent for them here, much to the delight
of the servants. The performance is not a pretty one to witness. The
snakes, four or five in number—one of them the Boomraiah (Father of
Beauty), about six feet long and beautifully marked—are kept in two
cylinder-shaped baskets, into which the charmer put his hand and pulled
out the Boomraiah. He then put it on the ground, and after chasing it
about till it was in a rage he allowed it to bite his bare arm, which it
did with much apparent enjoyment, and to the effusion of blood. He then
took out a shorter and very thick one, of a deadly order, called the
“Eftah,” which, after twisting about in every direction, he put inside
his clothes next his breast; he then seized hold of the Boomraiah again
about a foot from the neck, and as it twirled its head wildly round, he
put out his tongue, on to which it promptly fastened itself, driving in
its two long fangs, and making the blood flow freely. All the time this
was going on an incessant accompaniment on two native drums was kept up;
but whether to strike terror into the snakes, or embolden the principal
performers, I do not know. Lawless tried to take a picture of the scene,
but, owing to the ceaseless movement of the man who was manipulating the
snake, it was rather a failure; the best part being the rapt faces of
the servants and other bystanders, who came out well. Sir John tells me
that some years ago, when he first saw this or a similar troop, he
believed that the poison must have been extracted from the snake’s
fangs, and wanted to let the reptile bite his hand. The snake-charmer,
however, who always affirms that the poison is _not_ removed,
recommended him to try the effect on some animal first; so a fowl was
sent for, and the snake made to bite it. It soon got into a comatose
state, and died within the hour, and on being cut open the flesh was
found to be black and discoloured. It is needless to say the impulsive
diplomatist retracted his proposed _experimentum in (suo) corpore vili_.
Another part of the man’s exhibition to-day was swallowing a long snake
to within a foot of its head. The unengulphed portion of it presently
began to wriggle about violently as the gastric juices of the
performer’s stomach operated on its latter end, and with its teeth it
inflicted deep wounds on the man’s face.
A funny incident occurred in connection with these men, which shows how
lightly the liberty of the subject is regarded in Fez. It seems that
when His Excellency sent for them, the messenger found them all in jail,
having been sent there, it appeared, for the crime of “holding up to the
Christian kaïd a venomous snake, which, if it had bitten him and he had
died, would have involved the Government in great trouble.” I was sorry
at the swift judgment which had overtaken the poor people on my account;
but as we gave them a liberal present, and His Excellency arranged they
should not be re-committed to jail on the former indictment, they went
away quite happy.
There are said to be over ten thousand Jews in Fez, all of whom are
obliged to live in the Melha, or Jews’ quarter—the Ghetto, in fact, of
Fez. They are particularly odious to the Moor, being held in greater
contempt even than Christians; and the interest taken in them by foreign
societies tends to make them insolent and independent, increasing
thereby the Mussulman aversion to them. A few days ago a deputation of
Israelites, with a grave and reverend rabbi at their head, waited upon
His Excellency to thank him for past favours (he is one of the committee
for their protection), and to beg for more. Among other things was a
request that he would interest himself in their behalf to get permission
from the Sultan for them to wear their shoes in the town. “We are old,
Bashador,” they said, “and our limbs are weak; our women, too, are
delicately nurtured, and this law presses heavily upon us.” Though I can
quite sympathise with the poor Hebrew in his non-appreciation of having
to walk over such streets as these barefooted, yet I was glad they were
dissuaded from pressing their request, the granting of which would
exasperate the populace, and might lead to consequences too terrible to
contemplate. This argument has already been put forward by His Majesty,
when pressed on a former occasion to remove the disabilities of the
Jews, together with the pertinent one that the admission of their
ancestors into Marocco as refugees was made conditional on the
observance of this practice; so, if the contract is broken on one side,
it might with equal justice be annulled on the other. I do not know what
other suggestions they made, as the conversation was all in Arabic; but
their excited gestures, and their bending forward across each other’s
backs to get as near as possible, and not lose a word of the Envoy’s
advice to them, looked as if they put great faith in His Excellency’s
power of pleading their cause with the Sultan. This chosen people are at
present the subject of much discussion, as at the Madrid Conference one
of the chief topics under consideration is that of their protection by
foreign powers. No doubt some change in the treatment they now meet with
is desirable, but that their account of the hardships and injustice
under which they labour is exaggerated, is also beyond dispute. The
story of the slaying and burning of a Jew here, a few months ago, though
an act of undoubted barbarism and ferocity, was much garbled and made
capital of by the societies for their protection; and it would be well
for such associations to inculcate, among their _protégés_, principles
of chastity towards women, it having been an attempt on the part of an
inebriated Jew to outrage a Moorish woman which excited the feelings of
the mob on this occasion. Melh’, or Melha, signifies “salt,” and the
place is so called from the old custom of giving the heads of criminals,
when executed, to the Jews, who were compelled to _salt_ them before
they were distributed over the gates of cities as a warning to others.
Very queer specimens of humanity are those one sees in this same Melha.
Hebrews of every type are there; some sitting cross-legged, working away
at silver ornaments, or making the long guns used by the Moors; others
cutting out clothes, either for themselves or their oppressors, as it is
immaterial to the Jew for whom he labours, provided the payment is
punctual and sufficient. In their own quarter they may do as they like
(except ride on horses, these animals being considered too noble for
such a base use); but once the gateway is passed leading into the town
itself, they must dismount from their mules, and walk barefoot in all
weathers. Some of the women and children are pretty, but good looks
among the men are very rare, while some are most forbidding in
expression. Their clothes, in shape, resemble those of the Moors, but
the law restricts them to wearing only black, which, with their shaggy
beards and long hair—generally dark, but sometimes of a carrotty
red—gives the bad-looking ones a wild and evil expression, much
resembling the portraits by some of the old masters, of their ancestors
who assisted at the crucifixion.
Three cases of murder of Jews have occurred during the last few years,
for which the compensation money has not been settled, and of which the
perpetrators remain undiscovered; but our own annals of crime,
especially in the sister isle, will hardly allow of our casting the
first stone at the Moors.
In many respects the Jews in Marocco are better off than the
Mahommedans, especially in this matter of enquiry into acts of violence
against them; for whereas one Moor may kill another, and very little be
said, if a Jew is the victim, there are a dozen advocates to take up his
cause. They are exempt, too, from military service, which in a country
like this is no small boon; and though their evidence is not accepted
before any tribunal, neither is that of a Christian. They seem to excel
the Moors in ornamental work of most sorts—guns, swords, &c.—and in what
we should call cabinetmaking; but in masonry, gardening, and out-door
work, I do not see them often employed. The great object of most of them
is to become the protected subjects of some European power, and it is a
pretty widely known fact that considerable sums of money change hands to
facilitate such arrangements.
One of the snake-charmers of yesterday came here this morning to thank
His Excellency for his good offices, and to say that their money, which
had been taken from them at the prison, had been returned, while the
soldier who had lodged them there had been detained and flogged. Alas
for his excess of zeal! but it probably served him right, and it was
refreshing to see the thankfulness of the other, whose conduct, though
the appearance of the outward man was against him, recalled to our minds
the grateful leper in the parable.
There is not such a thing as a “policeman” in Fez, which seems curious
in a town of 50,000 not very peace-loving inhabitants. A writer[47] in
the sixteenth century tells us that in his time four sergeants and
officers were appointed to patrol the town from midnight till 2 A.M.
“These,” he says, “have no stipend, but are freely permitted to sell
wine * * *” and to deal in other even more questionable commodities—a
mode of increasing the emoluments of the British officer which has
hitherto escaped the attention of their well-wishers. To a certain
extent, the plan now-a-days of preserving order is by setting every
man’s hand against his neighbour’s, as any one, soldier or
otherwise—though it is _par excellence_ the former’s business—can lodge
a person in jail whom he detects in any crime, receiving for his trouble
a fee which is paid by the offender. At night the facility for crime is
lessened, and its locality determined, by the device of closing the
gates of every quarter a little after sunset. The districts being
numerous but small, and the gates pretty strong, detection of evil-doers
is rendered easy, as escape, with the gates shut, is a matter of
difficulty. At the same time, the total darkness of the town, and the
proximity of the river, which can be seen foaming below the streets
through many a cavity, makes the commission of crimes of violence much
too simple. Punishment for such offences seems very slight, and payment
of a certain sum of money, or, I am told, the providing of a substitute
to take their place in prison, procures the release of almost any
criminal. During the last few weeks, I hear, undetected murders have
been frequent, and the kádi[48] is rather on his mettle to find out the
perpetrators. The gardener of a place close to this saw, a few days ago,
something floating down the stream which runs between the two gardens,
and on picking it out, found it was a woman’s arm. The man took it to
the kádi, who, determined to find out the murderer, showed considerable
judgment in the steps he took. Noticing the arm was a good deal
tattooed, he sent for the women who do this work, and handing them the
limb, asked if any of them could recognise it. This one of them shortly
did, saying it must have belonged to so and so, wife of a merchant in
the town. This individual being summoned, the judge said to him, “I wish
to see your wife; let her be brought before me.” “That is impossible,”
said the husband. “Why?” “Because she went three days ago on a visit to
her mother.” This was too much for the kádi, who ordered the man to be
put in jail. It turned out, however, that his story was true, and that
the woman having an intrigue on hand with another man, gave the above
excuse for leaving home. The lover has been arrested, and it appears
that he murdered the woman, either from jealousy or to possess himself
of her jewels. So the husband, who learned in the same day of his wife’s
dishonour and her death, has been released, while the lover is detained
during His Majesty’s pleasure, the length of which term depends a good
deal on the amount of money which can be squeezed out of the offender.
_Saturday, 1st May 1880._
I have lately, at the request of the commander of the Sultan’s infantry,
adopted the _rôle_ of Cardwell of the army of Fez, and, assisted by Kaïd
Maclean, have been busy for some days in drawing up a scheme of army
reform, one of the conclusions I have come to on the subject being that,
if the interior economy of the State is at all on a par with that of the
army, the condition of the empire must be rotten indeed. But in speaking
in this way, I refer only to the organisation of the regular infantry,
for this is the only branch of the service which has come under my
special notice. Of the irregular cavalry, under whose protection we
travelled in the provinces, and who are a species of militia or
landwehr, I have a higher opinion, as I believe them to be a force
specially adapted for the protection of a country like Marocco.
We were all to have followed Sir John to the palace this morning, and
had attired ourselves for the presence of Majesty accordingly; but His
Excellency’s audience was so lengthy that it was settled to-morrow would
do better for us.
The dignity and patience with which the Sultan listens to all the
unpleasant truths it is the Envoy’s duty to lay before him, inspire one
with a certain respect, and, at all events, a profound sympathy with
him; and although, like a true Oriental, he always has a ready answer of
the most soothing character for all disagreeable suggestions, I believe
he has the interest of his country at heart, and is a sound centre in
the midst of rotten surroundings. Considering also the terrible cruelty
and tyranny exercised by many of his ancestors, his own comparatively
milder rule cannot but be regarded as creditable; for, in the case of a
semi-civilised autocrat, with the absolute control in his hand of the
lives of his subjects, and with boundless other facilities for doing
evil, the non-exercise of such power becomes a virtue. Viewing his
character in this light, one does not grudge the tiresome work of
instilling heliographic principles into the Moorish brain, or even
flinch from the more delicate task of disclosing to His Majesty the
utter inefficacy and swindling of his army administration. His
Excellency seems to have been trying to-day to impress upon the Sultan
the advantages of agriculture, to which, he explained, France chiefly
owes her great wealth. Against some mining speculations which had been
recommended by foreigners, and in starting which he has already been
done out of a large sum of money, the Envoy warned His Majesty:—“Mines
are risky things, and I would not recommend Your Majesty to put much
trust in what speculators tell you; but agriculture should constitute
the riches of a country like this.” “It shall be looked to at once,”
replied his hearer; “I will order corn to be given to the people in time
for next sowing, and they shall pay me a tithe of the crops.” Great part
of the Sultan’s treasure consists in granaries stored with corn, and
during the famine of 1778 the Emperor Sídi Muhammed (ancestor of the
late Sultan of that name) “generously opened his store of corn and
distributed it among his subjects,” every person possessing stores being
obliged to follow his example.[49]
“The state of Your Majesty’s army is very unsatisfactory—a few
disciplined troops, the rest a mere rabble.” “Yes, I believe they are
not very efficient, and are, I am told, great robbers.” His Excellency,
who sometimes puts forth parables as being more acceptable to a Moor
than the plain truth, continued:—“If Your Majesty had a dog, and never
fed him, would you be surprised at his stealing meat? Your troops only
require to be well fed and clothed, and they will cease to disgrace you;
the three hundred men you sent to Gibraltar were two years there, and no
complaint was made against them, for they were properly disciplined and
paid.”
By way of seeing if the scheme of army reform was likely to be well
received, His Excellency said, “The kaïds of the English army who are
with me have made a great many comments on your troops, and one of them
has embodied his ideas on paper; would it please Your Majesty to see it
before I leave Fez?” To which His Majesty graciously assented.[50]
Speaking of the pleasure we felt at having been so well received, Sir
John remarked, “The officers of my Mission are highly pleased with your
reception of them, and at the favourable eye with which Your Majesty has
looked upon them.” “I am very glad of it,” said the Sultan, “and am
surprised at officers so young being masters of so many scientific
attainments.” In inculcating these practical and moral precepts His
Excellency often introduces the remark, “If anything I say is
displeasing to Your Majesty, I trust you will at once stop me;” but the
Sultan always bears with him to the bitter end, concurring sadly but
silently in what he hears.
Some characteristic remarks of two of the ministers were repeated to me
the other day. “What do you think of the English Bashador?” said one.
“If a doctor,” replied his friend, “comes to look at a bad boil on your
leg, and smoothing it over puts a plaister on to ease it for a little,
is he as good a surgeon as the man who ‘burns it out from the root’?”
Though the faculty might deride such heroic treatment, it must be
remembered that here phlebotomy or cautery is considered as a _remède à
tous les maux_, and at any rate, the metaphor shows that some of the
ministers endorse their sovereign’s high opinion of His Excellency. It
is curious that with lots of thinking and reasoning men among them, the
chief officers of the State should be allowed to cheat and swindle as
they do, obstructing all reform, but seeing far enough ahead to line
their pockets while they may. The mistaken system of never paying the
officials, but, on the contrary, obliging them to make large payments to
the Sultan for the favour of continuing in office, does more to hinder
the progress of good government, and to maintain oppression and
injustice, than almost anything else. Shortly before the death of Sídi
Muhammed, father of the present Emperor, there seemed every chance of
this abuse being rectified; for when each new Governor of a province was
appointed, he received a fixed salary, and two public notaries (adúls)
were attached to his suite to render an account to the Sultan of all
fines and punishments inflicted. On Sídi Muhammed’s death, however, in
1873, things fell back into the old groove, the advisers of the present
Sultan assuring him that unpaid servants were a clear gain to the
country over paid ones. Now-a-days, therefore, if any crime, such as
murder, is committed, the accused is put into jail, and if willing or
able to pay, is only detained there till the amount of blood-money is
determined upon; this, if he pays it, procures his release, a short
absence from the district being at the same time recommended. Of course
he has to take his chance of the murder being avenged by some kinsman of
the victim, the _lex talionis_ being sanctioned by the Prophet, who
stipulates there is not to be “too much cruelty” perpetrated in its
execution. A liberal amount of blood-money, however, generally obviates
such danger. The offender is also fined at the option of the Governor,
into whose pocket the amount mulcted goes, as also does a considerable
portion of the indemnity paid to the relatives. The same plan is
resorted to in the case of other crimes, the rich man coming well out of
his troubles, especially in the case of lawsuits about property, where,
as there is no appeal but to the Sultan, the decision of the Governor is
almost invariably in favour of the man who pays.
Rode out a few miles towards Mequinez with White to meet the Gordon
Cumming party,[51] who were marching in from that direction; found them
all—it was raining hard—sitting in a row, with their backs to the
weather, discussing some luncheon, and reading their home letters, which
had just arrived. We brought them the news that the house of one Ben
Aouda had been prepared for them through Síd Búbakr’s influence with the
town authorities; and the intelligence was welcome, as their tents and
everything else were wet through. Leaving them to follow, we rode back
to the town, and were just in time to see the performance of a curious
annual ceremony. It seems that once every year the “students” (a party
whose composition no one can exactly define) elect one of their number
for a Sultan, under whose rule they all go out into camp on the first of
May for a fortnight’s feasting and debauchery, and we met the procession
_en route_ to their encampment. It consisted of the mock Sultan and his
train, and is such a counterpart of the original, as we witnessed it in
the pageant of the 19th ult., that we thought at first it was His real
Majesty out for an airing. The party were escorted by a four-deep square
of infantry, under Hadj Hamed, in the centre of which they moved slowly
along. Occasionally they halted to allow some parties of hillmen, who
preceded the troop, to perform a sort of war dance peculiar to
themselves. Six or eight of them, armed with their long guns, advance
and retire towards each other like the first figure of a quadrille,
stooping down each time they cross, as if taking aim at their _vis à
vis_; presently they begin to circle round and round, singing a wild
monotonous air; and when the leader arrives at a certain high falsetto
note, they all leap in the air, and before their feet touch the ground
again discharge their guns, muzzle downwards, into the earth. The first
time I saw this dance was at Tangier, during the festivals on the
anniversary of the birth and circumcision of Muhammed, when I was much
struck by the graceful motions and well-disciplined movements of the
wild-looking performers. We were joined presently by some others of our
party with a few mounted soldiers, who assisted in keeping off the
crowd; and Kaïd Hamed sending some men to help, we managed to keep a
space clear for the Gordon Cummings, who appeared at this moment, and
who halted till the crowd had passed on with their newly-elected Sultan.
This dignitary’s appointment is put up to auction, and this year was
bought for one hundred dollars. The presents he gets, and some tribute
which he receives from his royal _confrère_, soon reimburse him, and he
is allowed to rob a little on his own account; the present one, too,
being a merchant, is probably accorded some monopoly or contract by the
Sultan.
To-night was remarkable for two events which can never have happened
before; one was the fact of His Excellency’s having completed forty
years in Her Majesty’s service; the other, that no fewer than eighteen
Christians were collected in Fez, and sat down to dinner together. The
first came to pass in the fulness of time and in the natural course of
events; the second by Colonel Gordon Cumming’s party being unfortunately
disappointed in getting into Ben Aouda’s house, from which he positively
declines to move; and consequently, as the rain was falling in torrents,
being detained to dinner here. Síd Búbakr, being put on his mettle by
the falling through of his arrangements, rode down to the city gate, and
having collected the animals, baggage, &c., had the camp pitched in the
only available space inside the town; having accomplished which he
returned here to guide the travellers through the darkness and the rain
to their uninviting resting-place.
CHAPTER XIII.
Visit to the palace—Failure to photograph Sultan—Set up
telephone—Panthers—Beauty of palace—Sultan’s
entertainment—Jugglers—Native drama—Dance of the Aissowieh—A saint
of Fez—Visit to the “Melha”—Inspection of infantry—Inns of
Fez—Pharaoh hardens his heart.
_Monday, 3d May 1880._
Yesterday’s rain having caused our visit to the palace to be postponed,
we were hunted out of our beds at an early hour this morning by His
Excellency; risked an attack of indigestion over our breakfasts, still
under the same influence, and, after waiting some time admiring each
other’s go-to-meeting clothes, finally received a command that His
Majesty would receive us at ten o’clock. It having been whispered by Síd
Búbakr that, if it could be done quietly, the Sultan would allow himself
to be photographed, His Excellency was in high spirits; and already, I
believe, in his mind’s eye the portrait was on its road to Windsor. But
the mood of a Moorish autocrat is variable as the wind, and I doubt if
the artist is yet fledged who will hand down to posterity a likeness of
His Sharífian Majesty. We rode up to the palace through lanes which last
night’s rain has converted into alternate torrents and seas of mud,
splashing our pretty clothes and making us generally uncomfortable. The
Ministers and Court were just leaving their small tents of office in the
palace enclosure, and the fat Vizier, puffing and flushed with the
exertion of hurriedly climbing on his mule, rather scored off Sir John,
who had dismounted, it being _de rigueur_ here for a person of inferior
rank always to dismount before addressing his superior. They had none of
them heard we were coming—a great slight to the Grand Vizier, who,
together with his colleagues, looked as black as thunder. We waited some
time at the gate of the inner court, which want of attention drew down
some Moorish blessings on the head of the officer in charge of it from
the Envoy’s varied vocabulary; and after getting through, and into the
garden, we were kept standing in the walk for upwards of an hour. We
tried in vain to excite His Excellency’s indignation again, and
presently the “Eyebrow” arrived with some excuse about the Sultan not
knowing we were coming, as the soldier who brought the message made a
mistake about the hour, &c., and consequently His Majesty was still at
breakfast. At the real reason of the delay we of course never arrived;
but as at that moment another messenger came, summoning Sir John and the
“photographer” to the royal presence, our spirits rose at this apparent
fulfilment of our wish to obtain the desired likeness. In the meantime,
the rest of us were left to the tender mercies of the “Gentleman of the
Eyebrow,” Síd Múhammed Gavass, and Síd Drís ben Abd el Wáhad, the “idle
apprentice” of the Moorish engineers.[52] I improved the occasion by
unpacking the heliograph (which they had brought along with the
telephone, and which they think forms an integral part of it), and
giving the latter youth, who had not yet seen the instrument, a lesson
in its adjustment. Having discoursed on the subject in well-selected
phrases for some time, I was disappointed at his asking with apparent
interest, “And does it work well at night?” and again, after some
further explanation, “How much wire do you have to use?” However, I must
say, as soon as I got him to give his attention to the matter, and to
leave off lusting after the fleshpots of Chatham and London, which we
were the innocent means of recalling to his memory, he mastered the
rudiments very quickly. In about half an hour His Excellency and the
artists returned rather crestfallen, though at first they declared they
had been taken to the Harem, and photographed His Majesty and all his
wives. It turned out, however, that the Sultan, changeable as a
school-girl, refused, as soon as he saw the camera again, to be taken,
and even insisted on Sir John’s promising that no such attempt should be
made. He sent, however, for three female slaves—one an enormously stout
black lady, the other two of a more graceful build, brown complexion,
and rather pretty; these victims he allowed to be sacrificed on the
altar of art, retiring a little for fear of being included in the group,
and laughing quietly at the scene.
[Illustration: THE SULTAN’S “SUBSTITUTES.”]
Rode home past the “Eyebrow’s” house, where they told us that if we
“waited for a little we might be shown some of the rooms of the palace.”
Disappointed, however, with the result of our morning’s visit, we
stoutly declined to alight again, were the Sultan and his entire harem
on view. After luncheon, however, I rode back to Ben Músa’s house, and
spent a couple of hours in putting up the telephone between it and an
apartment in the palace. The Eyebrow’s end of the wire we set up in a
sort of lumber-room, full of every sort of toy, presents, &c. discarded
by His Majesty—French china, some of it very pretty, clocks of every
kind, boxes full of clothes, feathers, mirrors, artificial flowers,
enough to furnish half a dozen fancy bazaars; and among this collection
probably ere long both batteries and the connecting wire of the
telephone, together with the heliographic instruments, will find a home.
The other end we took along the wall, under an archway and through a
long passage, into the Sultan’s private garden, then up a flight of
steps to a broad and beautifully paved terrace, on which a wing of the
upper story of the palace looks out. The room in which we fixed the end
for His Majesty’s use was a perfect gem in its way; no furniture but two
arm-chairs and a bed, underneath which a young but full-grown panther
was rolling about, who came and sniffed unpleasantly at the calves of
the Christian intruders. The work in the ceiling of the recess in which
the bed was placed was really exquisite, and round the walls were
inscriptions and verses from the Koran, executed in gold and colours of
the richest and brightest kind. Half a dozen horrid-looking black
eunuchs were there to watch that we did not stray farther than necessary
for our work; and though I looked carefully round and into the garden,
which was stretched out below us, for any other signs of life, I could
see nothing but a lot of gaudily-dressed black boys, whose chief
amusement seemed to be rolling over and fighting with the panthers
(there are two of them), whose bites and scratches they returned with
interest. We got the telephone arranged satisfactorily at last, and left
the Eyebrow yelling into his end of it, much to the delight of two of
the eunuchs, who were screaming in high falsetto into the other end. How
long it may bear this severe test, which Mr. Bell can never have
contemplated when constructing it, time alone can determine.
_Wednesday, 5th May 1880._
Our last public entertainment here took place to-day, with
accompaniments which will engrave it for long on our memories. Our host
on this occasion was no less a person than His Sharífian Majesty, who,
though he did not appear in person, provided a most ample assortment of
food for both body and mind. The summer palace where the picnic took
place is about two miles to the south-west of the town, and is enclosed
in an extensive grove of orange-trees, among which some tents had been
pitched for the party. Before luncheon we were taken to have a look at
the building, in which there is not much to see. It consists of a very
large courtyard, open at the top, and paved with marble, into which a
number of good-sized suites of rooms open. The chief interest which
attaches to the place is a melancholy one, it having been built by
Christian slaves, of whom most were English, during the reign of Mulai
Ismael, in the beginning of last century.
We were rather surprised that some great officer of State, such as one
of the chamberlains or the Sultan’s secretary, was not present to
represent their master; and to a suspicious mind it looked not unlike
intentional neglect on the part of some one. His Excellency at once
repudiated this idea, and pointing to a Moor who happened to be shouting
rather louder than the others, explained that he was “an official of
high position called the _Kaïd of the Freigíahs_, and had the
arrangement of everything.” Now, seeing that this same “kaïd” is merely
the chief tent-pitcher, of whose services in this capacity I availed
myself a few days ago in the palace garden, I am not wholly convinced by
His Excellency’s ready repartee.
We had brought with us not only our own servants with knives and forks,
but also a goodly supply of the fluid prohibited by the Prophet, which
substitute for the dirty water one usually gets at Moorish feasts helped
to wash down pleasantly the sumptuous meal provided by His Majesty’s
_chef_.
Síd Búbakr and the two Chatham officers being either too shy to feed
with us, or being unwilling so to commit themselves in public, went to
another tent, where countless dishes of all kinds were brought to them
and a select few of the palace people by the Sultan’s slaves, who had
lighted fires in the wood to keep the viands hot. As there was not room
in their tent for half the dishes provided, Síd Búbakr had them arranged
in rows outside, and then distributed to the various lots of servants,
soldiers, slaves, &c.—a most popular arrangement, which went straight to
the hearts and stomachs of all present. After we had finished our
luncheon, and Colonel Gordon Cumming’s party, who joined us later, had
had theirs, some jugglers came and performed. Their tricks were good,
but what they excelled in were feats of strength, one man supporting
seven others on his shoulders, and many other things of the sort, all on
the wet, muddy ground. It was a curious scene; on one side were the
party of Christians in the shelter of the tent, of which a side had been
left open, while opposite stood the bystanders, whose interests were
divided between us and the performers; behind these were about fifty or
sixty people who had filed quietly into the grove just before the
performances commenced, and of whose identity we were shortly made
aware. In the background were the horses, picketed, and several tents
which had been pitched to shelter the officers of our numerous guard
from the rain, which was falling heavily. The jugglers and athletes
having withdrawn, a contortionist, who must be quite at the head of his
profession, appeared, and imitated an ape to perfection, the way he
changed his face—naturally not an unpleasant one—being horrible and yet
ludicrous to a degree. The ape having retired, a comical-looking man,
with a sort of fool’s cap on his head, made a stump oration, imitating
various characters, his jokes making the people roar with laughter, in
which His Excellency and the khalífa, who are both perfect Arabic
scholars, joined; but whether from the jokes being purely on local
topics, or from some other cause, they did not think fit to translate
them for our benefit into English. The speech concluded, the jester,
assisted by a small black boy and a fair, effeminate-looking youth,
proceeded to enact in dumb show certain scenes and tableaux taken from
native domestic life and manners; but as these began to assume features
which would hardly have failed to come under the censure of the Lord
Chamberlain at home, Síd Búbakr with infinite good taste stopped the
music (without which nothing can be got through), and the performers
went their way, wondering, doubtless, at the want of curiosity we
evinced in not waiting for the development of their highly seasoned
drama. Now came the last of the varied entertainments provided for us by
our royal host, and it was certainly as unexpected by those who were
best acquainted with Moorish customs as it was horrifying to all, and
especially to those who had never witnessed it before. It seems that
some days ago, when this picnic at the summer palace was first mooted,
and Sir John was asked what style of amusement we should like best, he
begged that the “Aissowieh” might be sent to amuse us. Now by that term
is usually meant the snake-charmers, who belong to the great sect of
Aissowa, and it was, of course, only the snake-charmers to whom His
Excellency referred. His suggestion was, however, interpreted otherwise,
and the Sultan imagined that our unaccountable taste made us anxious to
see the performance of the ghastly and horrible rites of the real
Aissowieh.
The founder of this sect was a poor Arab, Muhammed ben Aissa, who lived
in Mequinez about three hundred years ago, in the most abject poverty.
As a reward for his unwavering faith in the mercy of God, and in the
good offices of the Prophet, a miraculous supply of food was sent him,
with which he was enabled to supply all the poor of the town, and was
thenceforth regarded as a saint, multitudes coming to him and imploring
to be received as disciples. With these followers he travelled through
the empire, barefoot, and “without scrip or purse,” trusting implicitly
to the Prophet to provide the necessaries of life. When they were hungry
their leader gave them poisonous plants to eat, which not only proved
innocuous, but satisfied the cravings of their appetite. Very soon they
attained the power of receiving without hurt the bites of poisonous
snakes; while burnings of the most terrible description, wounds, and
contusions, were impotent against them. Tradition asserts that Ben
Aissa, as a reward for his virtues and faith, was caught up into heaven,
like the Prophet Elijah, in a chariot and horses of fire—a team which
his previous training would enable him to handle with ease.
The sect is at this day very numerous, and twice a year—at the feast of
Bairám, and at the end of Ramadán—they assemble from all the sacred
towns, and commence a kind of triumphal march through the country. The
provinces through which they pass are—or at all events used to
be—thought specially favoured by Providence, the inhabitants vying with
one another to minister to their wants, and according to them “the best
of the cheer and the seat by the fire,”—once “the undenied right of the
barefooted Friar.”
The name “Aissa” (Jesus) is that by which our Lord is always mentioned
in the Koran, so Aissowa becomes the equivalent of Jesuit, or follower
of Jesus, and, in fact, the fundamental principles of the two orders are
identical—faith and obedience.[53]
The preliminary rite of these people consists in working themselves into
a state of religious frenzy, in which, when reason has entirely lost her
sway, they think to propitiate the Deity by cutting themselves with
knives and stones, and sometimes giving themselves up to the commission
of the most brutal crimes and horrible excesses. When in this condition,
which by the law of the land renders them more or less irresponsible for
their actions, neither man, woman, nor beast is safe who happens to
cross their path, and God help the unfortunate Christian or Jew who may
fall into their clutches! Among them, however, are certain high priests
or elders, who, like the leaders of religious revivals elsewhere,
exercise a sort of magnetic influence over their flock, even when they
are at their worst.
Considerable opposition was made to His Excellency’s supposed request by
the town authorities, who declined to be responsible for the safety of
the Christian spectators when brought into close contact with the
fanatical Aissowieh. The fiat of the Sultan had, however, gone forth; so
nothing could be done but to choose from among the known followers of
the sect the least extravagant and dangerous members. These then were
the crowd of people who, having hitherto kept in the background, were
now brought forward by their Emkaddemín or high priests—three old men of
great height and commanding appearance, with dark flowing robes and long
white beards. At first they were formed up in double rows, facing each
other, with the Emkaddemín between them, and began their dance to a
monotonous tune kept up on drums and horns. Gradually they kept working
towards our tent, stamping their feet to the time of the drums, and
throwing their heads backwards and forwards with a corresponding and
rapidly increasing motion. It is an acknowledged fact that since the
days when David danced before the ark, dancing has been regarded as a
religious exercise by many fanatical sects, who affirm that, by
subjecting their bodies for some time to such action, a state of mental
derangement is attained which renders them callous to all pain, and
wholly irresponsible for their actions. Such apparently was the effect
on the Aissowieh, who were now reduced to about twenty, those to whom
the spirit had not communicated this state of religious ecstasy having
had the good taste to withdraw from their more favoured brethren. Those
who remained presented a horrid appearance; their clothes hung loosely
on them; in most cases their turbans had fallen off, exposing sometimes
a bare and shiny skull, sometimes long dishevelled hair, which, by the
constant motion of their heads, now hung in clusters down their backs,
now in matted locks concealing their faces. Occasionally three or four
would break away from the ring and indulge in a _pas seul_ outside it,
or else run full tilt with their heads against a tree, and beat the stem
with their hands till the blood flowed freely down. The eyes of all of
them had now become fixed and glassy, their tongues lolled out of their
mouths, and their faces assumed a livid hue, while from the entire
circle rose the ceaseless cry of “Allah, Allah, Allah,” as the wretched
maniacs invoked their God, of whose character they must take a strange
view if they think He enjoys the ghastly scene! The chief method
observable in their madness was that they seldom did each other any
injury, though occasionally one or two at a time would fall on their
faces and commence tearing up the grass, which, with handfuls of mud,
they would force down their throats, and digest with apparent
satisfaction. On these occasions, if two of them came in contact, one
would seize the leg or head of the other, and commence gnawing it in an
abstracted manner, inflicting horrible wounds, to which operation his
fellow enthusiast would make no objection. The Emkaddemín would now
interfere, and by kneeling on their heads and other gentle measures,
quiet them; then, by some mysterious exorcism, they would recall the men
to reason, keeping their eye on them till they sheepishly left the spot
and got away behind the spectators. By this means all but four of the
Aissowieh were disposed of; those that were left, however, seemed beyond
even the influence of their priests, who would occasionally make an
attempt to subdue them; but failing to do so, contented themselves with
closely watching, and when necessary, placing themselves between us and
the wretched men, who now looked more like beasts than human beings. In
fact, through some freak of their disordered brains, these men had
assumed the _rôle_ of wild animals, and were prowling about on all
fours, uttering unearthly cries, like hungry beasts in quest of prey. It
was not a pleasant moment when one of them neared the tent, peering
among us with brutish eyes, and I could not help thinking a live
Christian among those four would have had a sorry chance. Nor would such
an accident be wholly unpleasing to the spectators. The Emkaddemín,
however, had a peculiar method of satisfying the appetites of their
remaining disciples, and when they suddenly paused in front of us,
adopted the following plan. Among our servants were several followers of
the sect, who, forbidden to join in the saturnalia, had been looking
with sympathetic eyes at their co-religionists. One young boy, however,
of about twelve, also an Aissowa, who has lately been taken into the
service of the khalífa, not being able to resist the fascination of the
scene, joined in it, and having given himself wholly over to the Evil
One, was now lying in a state of exhaustion on the ground, his stomach
full of mud and grass, and his nice new clothes, provided by an
indulgent master, reduced to rags. Towards young Hassan, for so is the
youth yclept, one of the priests now moved, and taking him up by the
waist, threw him as a bait to allure away the fanatics from us. The
device succeeded better than we had hoped for, and with a horrid roar
they threw themselves upon the boy. He remained where he had been thrown
without moving or uttering a sound, and while the horrid crew were
howling and struggling over the morsel before proceeding to tear it to
pieces, he sprang from among them into the arms of the nearest Emkaddem,
who, secreting him in his ample robes, moved away from the spot. The
vacant despair and then rage of the Aissowieh, when they saw their
victim was gone, was indescribable; they tore up the ground with their
nails and teeth, and then separating, apparently in search of their
prey, were set on by their leaders, who by moral suasion and by physical
force, requisitioned from their now sobered followers, removed the still
raving madmen from the scene. It was a relief when it was all over, as
the performance, though shocking and repulsive, had an element of
fascination in it which prevented one from taking one’s eyes for a
moment off the principals.[54]
I had seen it once before, when, among other eccentricities, they tore a
live sheep to pieces and ate it—a fate I had fully expected to see young
Hassan undergo; but then I was safely ensconced on the roof of the
Belgian Consul’s house at Tangier, and offered no such temptation to the
performers as we did to-day. Never before, however, have the Aissowieh
been called upon to gratify the curiosity of private individuals, more
especially of people holding infidel doctrines like ours; and even among
themselves I do not think these rites ever take place except at their
two great festivals above mentioned.
_Thursday, 6th May 1880._
The ghastly but interesting performances of yesterday made me forget to
note down a curious sight I saw in the city in the forenoon—viz. that
while walking through the streets I was fortunate enough to meet a real
saint in the body—in fact in nothing else—who is much respected in that
quarter of the town. He was a fat, elderly person, of middle height,
with a restless and dissatisfied expression of countenance, and not a
stitch of clothing on of any sort or kind. He passed me with a kind of
ambling, shuffling gait, and had a dazed and puzzled look, like a
nocturnal rover driven out of his cave into the garish light of day. On
enquiry through Mr. Náhum of some of the crowd attendant as usual upon
us, I was told he had affected this _negligé_ style of dress from
infancy, but was a man of renowned sanctity, and “did a great deal of
good.” No one seemed to notice him, and looking back I saw his broad
brown shoulders disappearing among the people, none of whom even turned
round to look at him. Gentlemen of his cloth, if one may so speak of an
unclothed man, have from time immemorial been allowed great latitude in
Marocco. An author, writing in the beginning of last century on the
subject, says, “All things are lawful for the saints,” and describes how
“there was a naked one at Lally some years ago seized a young wench in
the streets, who, not well understanding sanctification, began to be
turbulent.” The remainder of the anecdote will be found by any reader
curious in the matter in Windhus’s “Journey to Mequinez” (London, 1725).
I rode again through the _Melha_ with Zouche. It seems to consist of a
long, filthily dirty street, with lanes, too narrow for a horse, leading
off it. We walked up one of these, and looked into one or two of the
houses, which seem very clean inside. The Israelites always look glad to
see one, and in a country where, with a few exceptions, one meets with
only hostile looks and forbidding faces, even such lowly recognition is
not without its value. Mr. Náhum, who accompanied us as interpreter, was
of course quite at home in the quarter, and took us into a house
belonging to a friend of his. The lady of the house was a good-looking
woman of about thirty, with a pretty little girl of seven. The latter
had a handsome bracelet, which I was told was a mark showing the owner
to be a married “woman.” This early union is common among the Moorish
Jews, the husband and wife living under her parents’ roof, but separate
from the rest of the family, as becomes the dignity of their estate. In
this instance the bridegroom was nine years old, but was away at school,
so we did not see him. We passed a distillery in the _Melha_, where any
one having raisins, &c., which he wants to “dethtyle,” as Tweedledee
explained it, pays so much, according to quantity. Both spirits (má
hia)[55] and native wine are made by the Jews; but it is considered
“harámi” for Mussulmans to drink it. The má hia is not pleasant, and
tastes of aniseed; but I can imagine getting to like the wine—it has
little or no strength. On our way back we saw the “Hotel de Ville” where
the Bashaw administers (?) justice. There was a strong escort of
uncommonly wild-looking but well-mounted soldiers in attendance, who
refused to allow us even to look into the courtyard. It is here that all
rich criminals and well-to-do persons with grievances are brought before
the governor, his khalífa being deputed to hear “the short but simple
annals of the poor.” Outside the town we met a cavalcade going to visit
the camp of the student-sultan. A younger brother of the real Sultan was
in it, attended by both Chamberlains and the Grand Vizier; but though we
drew up out of the way and bowed as they passed, none of them took the
slightest notice of us.
A letter has come for Sir John from the Sultan’s private secretary,
saying that His Majesty intends adopting the suggestions contained in my
memorandum, and requesting that I would go and inspect his infantry and
their arms, &c., so as to draw up a further report for his information.
I accordingly rode off to the palace square, where I found the infantry,
to the number of about three thousand, formed up in mass of columns.
Kaïd Maclean was there, and the Commander-in-Chief, with the Kaïd of the
Artillery (both of whom are civilians), presently joining us, I
commenced my inspection, accompanied by them. The Colonels of regiments,
as we came to each, shouldered arms in English fashion, and followed us
round their several commands. It was the most curious parade I ever
attended; for, apart from the novelty of the sensation of having a
Commander-in-Chief and a General of Artillery trotting in my wake, I had
the disagreeable feeling of knowing that the former had expressed
himself so strongly about my suggestions to the Sultan as to leave but
little hope in the minds of my friends that I should get out of Fez
alive. The system by which the head of the army has hitherto been
chiefly paid is by his receiving so much a head for each human being he
causes to defile before the Sultan one day in each month; it is,
therefore, naturally galling to him that a Christian and a stranger, how
exalted soever his position, should take the bread out of his mouth by
recommending the dismissal of one-third of the people by whose
appearance on a certain day he gains his livelihood. He is own brother,
too, to the fanatical Vizier, who deprecates and abhors the interference
of any foreigner in the working of the interior economy of the State. It
seemed to me, at first, a mistake having the whole force out at once for
inspection; but on consideration I reflected that if it had been done by
regiments or brigades, the same men, arms, and clothing would have been
made to do duty a second and even a third time. I think the chief among
defects innumerable was the diversity of the patterns of the rifles,
which were of every class and make, from the newest Martini-Henry to the
oldest flint lock of the date of 1815. On some of the latter, in fact, I
looked with interest, wondering if they had played a part at Waterloo!
The commonest pattern was an old United States rifle, of which I forget
the date, but an objection to which was that the powder ran out of the
breech almost as quickly as they poured it into the muzzle. I tried hard
to impress upon the Commander-in-Chief the convenience of having all
rifles of one pattern, on account of the ammunition, and that
breech-loaders were cheaper than muzzle-loaders. He replied that the
exclusive use of the breech-loader was impossible, as they could not
make cartridges for themselves. I quoted the Turkish army, with their
Peabody-Martini and ammunition from America, to which he objected, “But
suppose Marocco went to war with America?” I did not reply that in that
case Marocco would only need a very limited supply, but suggested their
making their own. “Lá bás,”[56] was the answer to this and many similar
remarks. The finest regiment of any was that of the “Bokhári,”[57] or
bodyguard of the Sultan. The physique of the men was superb, and they
were better armed and clothed than their fellows. There were seven
companies of them, about two hundred and thirty-two in all, exclusive of
supernumeraries. It appears the Commander-in-Chief, on noticing that I
was counting the men as I went along, was annoyed beyond measure; and
Tweedledee, who was acting aide-de-camp, remarked to me, “Why to count
their thilly tholdier? the brute-th that they are; perhapth they kill
uth.” On being asked what my motive for counting them was, I replied,
“Curiosity,” and at once desisted; but Haynes, who was with me,
continued, unseen, to note down the numbers. It appears the Sultan had
ordered a parade of the whole force, nominally 6000, but the
Commander-in-Chief, being unable to muster at so short a notice more
than one-half, was much alarmed lest it should come to His Majesty’s
ears.
The rear ranks of many companies, as we got farther down, were filled up
with boys of ten and twelve, and on my pointing any out as unfit to bear
arms, they were at once packed off, merely to appear again to-morrow. In
short, every question had its ready answer, every suggestion its
promised adoption. The clothes of nearly each man being different, I
recommended regiments, or even companies, being kept uniform. “Oh, these
are only put on to-day because it was raining, and there are 30,000
suits ready to be fitted on to-morrow.” “Send for one.” In a little time
a jacket and trousers were brought, apparently run up in view of such an
emergency. They were of coarse red baize, which looked bright enough
when new, but would never wear. “The rifles are hardly any of them fit
for use.” “No, but there are 25,000 in the armoury all new.” I had my
doubts about the 30,000 suits, but as regarded the rifles I knew it to
be false, as the few they have, which have not been issued, were
condemned as useless lately by their own authorities.
The last regiments I came to were, like Falstaff’s army, “exceeding
beggarly;” old men alongside young boys, both equally unfit for service,
diseased, semi-blind, halt, all mixed up together. I was glad when,
after about two hours’ work, the job was completed, and there remained
nothing but to thank the Commander-in-Chief and his staff for their
enforced courtesy, in doing which I took a leaf out of his own book.
“Your army, Amín,[58] as regards material, is first-rate, and, if well
clothed, equipped, and drilled, would be second to none in
Europe,”—provided, I mentally add, you send three-fourths of them to the
right about! To some of the kaïds, who were really smart, soldier-like
fellows, and were anxious for one’s real opinion, I explained that on an
average one hundred serviceable men might be picked out of each
regiment, and the whole made into two or even three respectable corps.
As this plan would entail the reduction of many colonels and
supernumeraries to a lower grade, they did not see the arrangement in
the same light. Among the several English innovations I recommended was
the free application of pipeclay and blacking, as used in our army, but,
from personal experience, I drew the line at red-tape. As the Sultan’s
secretary was waiting for my report, I returned here to draw it up and
hand it over to the interpreter, assisted by Síd Muhammed Gavass. The
shortness of time at my disposal prevented my touching on several points
to which I would otherwise have alluded, and it is to be hoped the
crudeness of the document will gain polish at the hands of its
manipulators in their translation of the original into Arabic.[59] The
diseased appearance of so many of the soldiers led me to ask if there
was any hospital for them in Fez, but I could not make out that there
was, and, in fact, I do not think such an institution exists even for
the civil population. Lunatics, too, are allowed to roam about, and are
kindly treated by the people, unless they develop very violent symptoms,
when they are confined in the common jails, chained to the ground by a
ring round their waist. In the fifteenth century things seem to have
been better managed, there having been several hospitals then in Fez.
Leo Africanus, in describing one of them, tells us there was a ward in
it “for franticke and distracted persons, whose Governoure, when he
bringeth them any sustenance, hath a whip of purpose to chastise those
that offer to bite, strike, or play any mad part.” There was also at
that period a “Hospitall for diseased strangers, which have their dyet,
but no phisicke allowed them.” The same writer mentions the inns of Fez
as badly conducted establishments, which he cannot conscientiously
recommend, for “none resort to them but most lewd and wicked people, to
the end they may more boldly commit vilanie.” At present there are no
inns here in our sense of the word, though resting-houses (fondaks)
exist, where travellers, provided with food and all other necessaries,
can procure shelter.
For the last three days we have been ready to leave, and actually packed
up many of our things ready for a start, but on each evening an order
has come from the Sultan, as from Pharaoh of old, delaying us on some
pretext or other.
CHAPTER XIV.
Farewell audience—The Sultan’s thanks—Discourtesy of Vizier—Claiming
protection—Designing foreigners—Precautions against them—Artillery
practice—Presents from Sultan—News from home—Books in Fez—Political
results of Mission.
_Sunday, 9th May 1880._
For the fourth and last time Fez was to-day enlivened by the spectacle
of His Excellency, attended by three British officers in full uniform,
riding to the palace, and for the fourth and last time I entered a
solemn protest against the combination of kilts and equestrianism.
The Envoy had been summoned to a farewell audience, and the
“photographer,” Haynes, and I, attended to receive His Majesty’s thanks
for our labours in his behalf. Sir John left us in an anteroom off the
corridor leading to the palace, and after half an hour’s waiting we were
summoned by the Eyebrow, who took us through the private garden to a
walk, at the end of which was an entrance to the palace, and just inside
the door were seated the Sultan and His Excellency. Here the Hájeb[60]
left us, but the Envoy beckoning us forward, we advanced, hat in hand,
to the royal threshold, and made our bow. His Majesty then addressed us
as follows, Sir John interpreting after each sentence:—“I have sent for
you to thank you for the trouble you have taken in explaining and
setting up the instruments your Government has presented to me. I am
also glad to see you here (designating me) to thank you for the reports
made upon my ‘Askár[61] by you. I hope you have all enjoyed yourselves,
and been comfortable here.” To these very gracious words we replied that
“it has been a great pleasure to us to have been of any service to Your
Majesty, and we are most sensible of the kindness and hospitality you
have shown us in Fez, and for which we beg to thank you.” “The English
are my best friends,” said the Sultan, “and I am always glad to see
their officers at my Court. I have caused a mark of my favour to be sent
you, which you will receive before leaving my capital.” We then withdrew
and awaited His Excellency’s return in the room to which we had first
been shown, Haynes and I playing a game of chess in the meanwhile with
some elaborately cut ivory men and a board we found there. It is a
favourite game in Marocco; the king and queen they call Súltán and
Súltána respectively, the castle, “Rook,” but I forget the other pieces.
As soon as His Excellency joined us we left the palace. The
Deputy-Chamberlain had brought us there and conducted us home again,
riding in front each way. He is the tall, fat youth who covets my dirk
so much, and is always giving me hints that he wants it in a present.
After we had left the presence of Majesty, Sir John said, in answer to
some enquiries by the Sultan as to the composition of the British army,
“The officers who have just gone away are all gentlemen, and sons of
people of position in England.” “Then what makes them serve in the
_’Askár_ if they can afford to live out of it?” was the somewhat
pertinent query of His Majesty. “Well,” said His Excellency, “the
English _’Askár_ is different from Your Majesty’s, and men with means of
their own enter it for the sake of occupation.” “Yes,” remarked the
Sultan, “that certainly seems a different state of things from ours.”
His Excellency and the Grand Vizier have had another difference, the
latter refusing to address the Envoy in despatches as “Sir John,” &c.
&c., but only terming him “Caballero,” or “Chevalier,” both of which
titles His Excellency declines, affirming that if Her Majesty describes
him in her letter to the Sultan as _Sir_ John, that is enough for
anybody. “Tell the Vizier,” he said to the all-arranging Síd Búbakr, “I
have a brother called ‘Tom’ who calls me ‘John;’ in future I shall
simply address the Vizier as ‘Muhammed,’ and he may call me ‘John!’”
Such apparent trivialities may seem absurd to a European mind, but here
there is much more in them than meets the eye. In this case I fancy the
ignorance of the Vizier connects the term “Sir” with “Síd,” a title he
is loath to confer on a Christian. It seems this liberal statesman has
remonstrated with the Sultan about having given the English Envoy five
audiences, as he will “thereby establish a precedent;” but the Sultan
replied that he would “do as he liked.” “But it is unusual for a
minister to transact business direct with Sídna,[62] and not through
me.” “Sir John comes to explain matters in which I take an interest,
besides business, and I should act in the same way with other Bashadors
if they spoke Arabic like the English Envoy.” This kicking against the
pricks is a healthy sign in His Sharífian Majesty, but it is to be
feared the leading strings will be resumed on the departure of the
Mission.
In a former audience, when hinting to His Majesty how much better it
would be to have a soldier at the head of the army, His Excellency
spoke as usual in parables, and said—“Suppose Your Majesty bought a
frigate and wanted some one to sail it, would you employ the Amín of
the market as captain?” “Certainly not,” said the Sultan; “I should
employ some sailor.” “Well, Your Majesty, it is much the same in the
case of the army, and your present Commander-in-Chief, though an able
administrator, knows nothing of the interior discipline.” This simile
sank into the royal mind; for in a letter from the Eyebrow, telling
Sir John that my suggestions were to be adopted forthwith, he
wrote,—“His Majesty is about to appoint Síd Muhammed Gavass as khalífa
to the Commander-in-Chief, being persuaded of the evils resulting from
a system which employs a market official to sail a frigate.”
I described in an early part of my diary (p. 36) one of the methods of
claiming the protection of a superior. To-day I was witness of another
plan often adopted by an injured or oppressed person. I was riding with
Kaïd Maclean to the Court he has to attend daily at 6 A.M. and 5 P.M.;
and as we were jogging along at a foot’s pace, a Jewish woman ran
forward, and tearing off her cloak, threw it on the ground in front of
Maclean’s horse. Having thus established her right to be heard by
“throwing all her griefs in front of” the kaïd, she explained how some
of the soldiers had burnt down her house because she refused to supply
them with cakes[63] without payment, and she could get no redress. My
companion told her at what hour he would be at the Grand Vizier’s in the
morning, and gave instructions to his orderly to see that she was
allowed access at that time. As, however, she looked very poor, it is
probable that the minister, who is as expectant of a reward in this
world as he is certain of one in the next, will turn a deaf ear to her
complaint.
A similar thing happened the other day to White, who, while taking a
ride outside the town, passed a man with a rope round his neck being led
along by two others. Breaking away from them, the unfortunate man threw
himself on the ground, and caught hold of the horse’s leg; but his
captors, in pulling him off, made the animal plunge and jump about so
much that White, not knowing what to do, took advantage of the confusion
and rode off. At the same time, according to the unwritten law of the
land, the men had no right to touch their victim after he had claimed
protection, and the Sultan himself is bound to enquire into the case of
any one who calls upon him by name, in public, for that purpose. As His
Majesty does not often ride far from home, his transit from the palace
to the mosque on Fridays is almost the only chance of thus waylaying
him, in connection with which custom a curious story was told us on our
arrival here. It appears that some time prior to the entry of the
Mission into Fez, a person having the appearance of a Portuguese
renegado, but describing himself as a Christian and a “British
officer,”[64] arrived in the town. He was desirous of obtaining an
audience of His Majesty, but having no letters of recommendation, was of
course unable to do so, nor would the Vizier, or any official to whom he
addressed himself, grant him even an interview. Adopting, therefore,
Moorish tactics, he met the Sultan returning from the mosque, and with
loud cries of “Mulai Hassan, Mulai Hassan,” prostrated himself upon the
ground before the Emperor. His Majesty, though startled, was about to
make enquiries, but his attendants, who had been warned of the man’s
design, affirming that the abject creature at his horse’s feet was
merely a lunatic (which class of unfortunates are treated here with
kindness and even respect), the procession proceeded on its way. The
oddest part of the story is that our informants declared he was dressed
in a similar costume to that in which I appeared at Court, and, _à
propos_ of the resemblance in dress, they wanted to know if any other of
the “tribe” could have passed this way? I disclaimed all connection with
my brother “Jebeli,”[65] who, when a lunacy commission is established in
Marocco, will some day be found chained by the waist to a wall of one of
the prisons, or stumping the country in the capacity of saint.
It is probable that this spurious Highlander was neither a Christian nor
an Englishman, and it is satisfactory to learn that the conduct of the
very few Christians who do find their way to Fez and the other sacred
cities, is happily better than the usual behaviour of the advance guard
of their brethren in barbarous countries. The Moors, however, who are
suspicious to the last degree of the visits of foreigners to the
interior, take stringent measures for their own protection. Thus the
introduction of foreign drink, too often associated in their minds with
the tenets of Christianity, is strictly forbidden under a heavy penalty
in Fez, and even the wines and spirits made by the Jews in their own
quarter cannot be taken into any part of the Mussulman city.
The Amín of the army is very sore at the holes which have been picked in
his military system, and has refused me permission to see a parade which
was held to-day for the purpose of drafting off boys and men unfit for
service. Emanating, too, from the same source, or rather from his
brother the Grand Vizier, is the following letter I received from the
French artillery officer in answer to one I wrote him, asking if I could
come and see his gun-practice to-morrow, and which I quote as showing
how eager are the authorities to prevent one seeing farther into the
nakedness of the land:—“Mon cher Monsieur, on ne tient pas à ce que vous
veniez à la séance demain parce que vous avez pris congé, et vous étés
considéré comme étant en route. Comme le Sultan assiste au tir votre
présence serait en quelque sorte irrégulière. Demain, ‘inshállah,’[66]
je viendrai vous serrer la main en sortant du tir.”
In the morning he had written to say, “Il n’y aura aucune difficulté à
ce que vous puissiez voir cette séance,” &c.; but an interview at the
“Court” altered the matter entirely. I do not despair, however, of being
able, from some rising-ground near the palace, to see with a pair of
field glasses as much of the “séance” as I require.
Our hours in Fez seem to be numbered at last, and unless Pharaoh hardens
his heart again, and sends another order to stop us, we turn our backs
upon the “sacred city” to-morrow. We have, however, been so often
stopped on the eve of departure, that I shall not be surprised if we
find ourselves this day week no farther advanced on our road home; and
as the sedative effects of the climate begin to operate, one feels more
or less indifferent on that as on other subjects. In fact, sitting
lazily at the doorway of my tent, with the setting sun shining warm and
red upon the white minarets and lovely landscape beyond, it occurs to me
in a misty way that there might be worse places to live in than Fez, and
that the monotonous existence of the Moor is not without its charm. The
air, too, this evening, is heavy with the scent of orange blossoms and
roses, while the hum of the distant town, mingling with the splash of
the fountains in the garden, sounds drowsily in the ear, not tending to
rouse one to action, or to throw off the lethargy inspired by the
surroundings.
* * * * *
My quiescent state of feeling was roughly disturbed by my servant, who
having apparently had some private message from His Majesty that he
intends letting us go, insisted on packing up the chair in which I was
musing, as also the few remaining _objets de luxe et de vertu_ upon
which he had not already laid violent hands.
Before dinner I took a farewell stroll in the merchants’ quarter, with
the obliging Mr. Náhum as cicerone, and made a few final purchases of
some of the coarse blue pottery for which the place is famous, and also
some very pretty silk material for dresses. I happened to take off my
dog-skin glove while examining the texture of some of the stuffs, and
was startled by a young child, who was sitting at the merchant’s feet,
setting up a yell of fear, and getting as far away from me as possible.
Her father, for such he was, presently reassured her, gently explaining
it was the duty of a Nazarene to remove the outer skin of his hand (for
so she deemed my glove to be) when touching any article belonging to a
true believer.
[Illustration: FORT NEAR FEZ.]
The “marks of honour” which the Sultan mentioned in the audience of this
morning were just passing through the guard as I returned to the
Legation. Sir John and the khalífa each received a present of a horse,
the gift to the former being supplemented by a most magnificently worked
Moorish saddle. Messrs. Secsú and Náhum, the indefatigable interpreters,
were each presented with a mule, as also was the old Arab scribe. Each
member of the Mission received a “sword of honour,” the scabbards, &c.,
of some being worked in gold, others in silver; mine was elaborately
embellished with the precious metal, the hilt being made of ivory; and
in connection with this mark of His Majesty’s regard I received a letter
of thanks[67] for my labours in his behalf. Síd Búbakr, who presided at
the distribution of Sídna’s largesse, held a paper in his hand in which
we were each named or described in some way, and on each sword was a
ticket corresponding. This concluding ceremony having taken place, there
is every reason to believe we shall be allowed to depart to-morrow,
unless His Majesty intends detaining us as hostages for the good faith
of the representative of England in the Madrid Conference.
We have not been without news from home during our stay in Fez, though
the swollen state of the rivers has made the journeys of the special
couriers from Tangier a dangerous undertaking. The last batch of papers
we received contained an account of the extraordinary Liberal victories
in England. That these topics were vehemently discussed by us it is
unnecessary to state, though His Excellency, as a public servant, of
course held aloof from polemics, and indeed severely censured the
suggestion of a member of the Mission, that an exchange of Prime
Ministers between England and Marocco would, under the new _régime_, be
decidedly beneficial to the former country. It is certain, however, that
the lawless condition of this land is not yet sufficiently developed to
admit of the idea that murder and assassination would be the best means
of bringing the distressed state of the empire within the “range of
practical politics;” nor, up to the present time, does “our Lord the
Sultan” allow of the open advocacy of such questionable mediums.
Besides special couriers, there are weekly runners between this and
Tangier, who are paid so much—or rather so little—for each journey. To
these men are entrusted most of the Government despatches to the Moorish
Minister at Tangier, but, as far as I can learn, most of the merchants,
and the few other private individuals who can write, send their letters
for the coast with the caravans which are perpetually marching through
the country. There is no postal system whatever in Marocco, and though
the adoption of such a simple means of revenue was recommended to the
Sultan on a former occasion, I do not think the measure has been again
urged on him by His Excellency. The assurances which His Majesty has
given to the Envoy of his intention to introduce certain reforms
advocated by him, make one hope that some of the political ends of the
Mission may be attained. This seems the more hopeful, too, from the
Sultan’s partiality for the English, whose disinterested interference in
his affairs, compared with the action of some of the other foreign
representatives, must commend itself to the Sharífian mind. The natives,
however, look upon things in general from such an entirely different
point of view to ours, that it is often hard to explain to them our
motives of action, and the explanations are none the more satisfactory
to either party from the fact that the one does not believe a word the
other is saying! “Will you tell me privately what brings your countrymen
here to Marocco?” an old Moor asked me confidentially. “Merely to see
the country and study the habits of the people,” I replied. A shrug of
utter disbelief was his only comment, and hence it is not to be wondered
at that their suspicions are aroused, and every obstacle placed in the
way of admitting strangers to the interior. Besides this distrust of
foreigners, another great difficulty presents itself in the way of
picking up information, and that is, our very limited knowledge of the
language. I had hoped that Spanish, at all events, would serve me with
educated Moors, but except at the seaport towns it is of no use. On one
subject in particular I tried vainly to inform myself—viz. as to the
existence of any ancient MSS. in the city, but it seems probable that
any which may have existed have been lost or destroyed. Among other
literary treasures, the MS. of the lost books of Livy is said to be
here; but an enquiry, backed by the offer of a large sum of money,
instituted some years ago by Sir John, failed to throw any light on the
matter. I am told that in each of the large mosques there used to be a
collection of books, but these having been converted into a sort of
circulating library, have gone astray, the people who borrowed them
being in too high a position for the men in charge of the mosques to
insist on their being returned. Dr. Rohlfs, however, whose means of
information were much more reliable than mine, writing in 1861,[68] says
there were at least 5000 MS. volumes in the mosque of El Karubin, so
what the truth may be in this case, as in many others, it is hard to
say. The subject is, curiously enough, one on which they dislike being
questioned, and as the very few books for sale in the town are only of a
religious character, the owners would not part with them to a Christian
for either love or money. Even a belt which one of the Mission wanted to
buy at a shop was withheld on account of its having a verse of the Koran
worked on it. The art of printing is, of course, unknown, and, with few
exceptions, no one can read or write.
Owing to the dilatory manner in which the business of the State is
conducted here, the formal ratification of the reforms I alluded to has
not been obtained from the Sultan; but it appears he will guarantee
that, though for the present the restrictions upon corn will remain in
force, those on the export of other grain, seed, &c., shall be removed.
Considering that even the portion of the country through which we have
passed could, if properly cultivated, supply corn to a great part of
Europe, the policy of the Sultan’s advisers in keeping up prohibitory
export duties seems wholly unaccountable. Negotiations are, however, to
be entered into at Tangier for the improvement of trade, for which
purpose a port on the coast, south of Mogador, is to be opened. Another
point on which the Sultan is anxious to meet the wishes of our
Government is in regard to the settlement of claims by British subjects,
to which end “Sharífian letters”[69] have already been issued by His
Majesty. In view of the near approach of the Madrid Conference, the
Sultan is evidently anxious to take the bull by the horns in the matter
of improving the condition of his Jewish subjects, and, moved also by
the representations of His Excellency, has decreed that whenever cases
arise in which Jews are denied justice at the hands of local governors,
an appeal may be made by the plaintiffs direct to His Majesty. This to
be done through his minister at Tangier, Síd Mohammed Bargash, a
statesman of known probity of character, whose opinion, unlike that of
most officials in Marocco, is not to be influenced by bribes. The whole
of the question, however, of Jewish persecution will come before this
assembly of European delegates; but if each of these will cast his eye
back upon the annals of his own country as they touch upon the treatment
of the Jews for the past one hundred or even fifty years, it is
difficult to say which of them will come into court with clean hands;
and I am inclined to endorse the opinion of a French writer in 1859, who
says—“Le Maroc a été moins dur pour les Juifs que bien des _nations
Chrétiennes_; il a donné asile à ces infortunés que proscrivirent en
divers temps l’Italie, l’Espagne, le Portugal, la France même.” He might
have included England, though at a much more remote period, with equal
justice in the same category.
CHAPTER XV.
In Camp again—Departure from Fez—Consular agents—Infantry
drill—Closing of gates—Source of Wad el Fas—Defences of
Marocco—Chances of invasion.
_Camp, Nedja, Monday, 10th May 1880._
[Illustration: CAMP BETWEEN FEZ AND MEQUINEZ.]
Here we are once more on the march, all of us feeling as if our life at
the Moorish capital had been a dream, and that only the usual
twenty-four hours had elapsed since last the tents were pitched. The
camp is on precisely the old plan, and this, combined with the familiar
but unearthly shrieks of the Moors, and other well-known sounds, seems
to bridge over the time between our former wanderings and the present.
On my right, at the end of the front line, is the Doctor’s tent, from
which issues, as usual, his melodious cry of “Máho,” by which he essays
to attract the attention of his servant, a native of Sús. On the left,
next me, is Zouche, calling in a minor key for George; and farther off
the Bashador, having run up the gamut of servants’ names, arrives at
that of Boomgheis, which is at once echoed by all the other ruffians who
have lain _perdus_ the while, and which is a sort of trump card played
by us all when in difficulties, and unable to get the man we want. Síd
Búbakr alone is absent; but he is only a town acquaintance, so his
spasmodic cry (like a peacock’s in pain) of “Náam, Sídi,”[70] with which
he always, in our garden at Fez, responded to His Excellency’s very
frequent summons, is not associated with camp life. We expect, however,
to see him again, as he is to overtake us in a day or two with some
papers of importance, which the Vizier explained “Sídna[71] had not had
time to sign.” It is to be hoped they will follow all right, but with
His Excellency’s departure the good resolves of His Majesty grow weak;
and as the personal influence of the English minister’s presence is
withdrawn the old state of things is apt to return, and tyranny and
injustice to resume the even tenour of their way. A good many years ago,
Sir John proposed that a British resident should always live at Fez, and
himself volunteered to be the first, but the proposal fell flat with the
representatives of the other powers, and the then Sultan, Mulai
Abd-er-Rahman, was most unwilling to be responsible for his safety. In
our treaty with him, however, in 1856, it was stipulated that the
English might have agents in any _town_, while the other powers were
limited to _ports_—a distinction which was by no means appreciated by
our Continental neighbours. Rohlfs states this arrangement was made by
treaty in 1861, but I think his date in this instance is inaccurate. _A
propos_ of this treaty, M. Duval, writing three years later, urges the
appointment of Consuls in the interior—a measure which, he affirms, was
adopted by his country in bygone days, when “Le roi de France, Henri
III., avait, sur l’invitation même du chérif régnant en 1577, nommé un
Consul et institué une agence consulaire à Fez.”[72] The present Sultan
might not be averse from following the precedent of his ancestors, but
without the hearty co-operation of the Grand Vizier and others, it could
not be adopted; and as the present holder of that office cordially
detests all Christians, he is not likely to counsel such a proceeding.
From this minister downwards, the whole governing staff of the country
is an Augean stable of corruption and iniquity, which nothing but the
increase of trade and consequent march of civilisation is likely to
sweep away.
As we did not leave Fez till noon, I got up at six o’clock, and rode to
a parade of some 1500 of the troops outside the town. There were two
complete regiments with six companies of thirty files each; the
remainder were all boys and recruits at “company drill,” the favourite
movement of their instructors being to wheel them round and round in a
single rank of about 150 strong. Last but not least was an enormous band
of about 100, marching round and playing tunes which were calculated to
strike terror into the heart of any ordinary foe. All commands were in
English, even to the numbering and some of the “cautions,” as, “Dress
back on the left,” “Steady,” and so on. Kaïd Ali (not the old gentleman
of that name who commands our escort), with whom I had tea the other day
at the barrack, was in command of the better drilled of the two
regiments, and seemed thoroughly at home and to enjoy his work,
deploying, forming squares, &c., with much success. The drill was
carried on at the top of the rising-ground overlooking the palace
square, so, if I had been a little earlier, I should have seen the
artillery practice they are so anxious to keep dark. As it was, I made
out with my glasses the commanding figure of the Sultan, sitting in the
bathing-machine-like vehicle which attracted our attention before in the
outer court of the palace, and in which he was now receiving his
ministers. He looks on at the practice on Mondays and Thursdays,
sometimes laying the guns himself. A wooden post is the mark they fire
at, the projectile being stopped by the wall of the enclosure about 500
yards or less from the guns. The Sultan is much taken up at present with
entrenching tools—a subject I had touched on in my report—and has
ordered Kaïd Maclean to have a “battery built at once,” with some
double-headed picks, which have made their appearance lately out of a
neglected store. I had a talk with Síd Drís ben Abd-el-Wáhad, who was
very anxious to accompany us to Mequinez, but who at that hour had been
unable to get the Sultan’s leave; he turned up, however, in camp here at
seven, having ridden out with Sir John, who did not leave Fez till five,
having been closeted with Síd Búbakr and some other notables all day. I
rode back from the parade through the Gordon Cummings’ camp to say
good-bye. They, too, left to-day for Tangier; so Fez is rid of all her
obnoxious visitors at once. I then passed on through the market, where,
the Amín[73] having finished his prayer, the jugglers, hill-tribe
dancers, and the ape-like individual who makes faces, were all hard at
work; and on the outside of all was the comical-looking man, whose
histrionic treat was so heartlessly cut short the other day at the
Summer Palace, amid an enthusiastic audience, who did not scruple to
hear him to the end. The streets were crammed with our tents and
baggage, and the garden of the Legation, where we have spent three such
pleasant weeks, was swept and garnished; while among the walks wandered
the old gardener who is in charge, eyeing sadly some of his best
orange-trees, from which the accursed Nazarenes had cut sticks as a
memento of their visit.
With the exception of His Excellency and the khalífa, we had all cleared
out of the place by twelve o’clock; not with flourish of trumpet and
beat of drum as we entered, but sneaking quietly away with a very
limited escort, the greater part having remained as a guard to the
Envoy. The populace, who had been coerced into welcoming the coming, did
not trouble themselves to speed the parting guest, and, except at the
gates of the town, where a few of the more religious had assembled to
bestow on us a parting curse, the streets presented their usual
appearance. _A propos_ of the gates, I have always forgotten to come and
see the ceremony of closing them, which takes place every Friday during
the hours of prayer from ten to twelve, in consequence of an ancient
Mussulman prophecy, that all kingdoms lost once by Christians to the
Turks and Saracens will be restored to the former on that day, and
between the above hours. The custom is also observed in Mequinez and
Marocco.
About eight miles from Fez on the left or south side of the track, and
two miles off it, we noticed a large fort-like building, and hearing
that the source of the Wad el Fas was there, I rode over to it with Miss
Hay and Zouche. The fort, which in former times must have been a
building of great strength, was built on rising ground, below which, in
a rocky amphitheatre, was a pool of water not very deep, but clear as
crystal, with a gravel and sandy bottom. Into the reservoir the spring
gushed, in two streams or jets, out of the side of the rock below the
building. To me it looked as if the whole mound and one side of the
basin were artificial, though dating from some very ancient period.
Lower down, in the middle of the river, which, on leaving the pool,
assumes its normal width, was some solid mason-work like the ruins of an
old bridge. We rode up the hill to the house or fort, which is a large,
square, high-walled enclosure, covering all the level part of the mound;
but whether it was roofed in or not we were unable to see, as the
inhabitants of a few huts at the back would not even let us go near the
gate. They were a most ill-looking lot, and at first I thought we had
got among a small colony of lunatics, as they kept making queer faces
and odd signs of silence if we attempted a closer inspection. The
soldier who was with us gave us no assistance, but tried to make us come
away, saying it was “harámi[74] for us to be there;” so there was
nothing for it but to get back to the track and come on here. I
questioned him through the interpreter afterwards, but it appeared he
had “forgotten the circumstance,” and also “did not know anything about
the place.” I have never seen any mention made of this singular spring
or the adjacent fortress by other travellers, but I cannot help thinking
that a competent observer might here discover some trace of Roman or
other occupation of the country, and that the place deserves the
attention of the archæologist, for whom, indeed, this land of Marocco is
one vast field.
Our camp is on the bank of the Wad el Nedja, a small stream which we
crossed by a stone bridge—an accommodation one rarely meets with here.
The village opposite us on the right bank merely consists of a
guardhouse, this being a bad neighbourhood, and subject to visits from
the Beni Mtír, the same tribe who attacked our camp at Mikkès just
before we reached Fez. I watched the guards for the camp being told off,
about a hundred of them, armed with guns and posted a few yards apart.
They chant in unison every few minutes to keep themselves awake, and the
mounted patrol who visits them always has some excellent joke at which
they laugh loudly, probably for the same purpose. His Excellency and
escort came galloping into camp just at dinner-time, having ridden out
fast in a downpour of rain. In his suite were Síd Muhammed Gavass and
the “son of the slave of the one God.” Both of them are putting up in
old Kaïd Ali’s tent. I am glad to have seen the parade of troops this
morning outside Fez, as on other occasions of my trying to do so the
Commander-in-Chief, who always attends, has either stopped the parade or
marched the men off as soon as I came on the ground. Owing to his
detention to-day at the “Court,” I saw all I wanted, and was much struck
with the bearing of the men and their knowledge of drill, which fully
equalled that of our native regiments in India. What kind of show they
would make, if properly armed, against a European foe, it is hard to
say, and during the present reign there has been no opportunity of
judging; but the constant guerilla warfare which the levying of tribute
from disaffected tribes entails should keep them in practice. The
isolated position of Marocco, which prevents its serving as a highway to
other lands, makes it comparatively valueless as a possession for any
power unconnected with this part of Africa; and protected as it is on
two sides by a rocky and surf-bound coast, in which are no harbours
worthy of the name, it is not from that quarter the Moors need look for
an attack. On the east, however, they have awkward neighbours in the
conquerors of Algeria; and the tendency of the French to transgress
their frontier line, as fixed by the treaty of 1845, makes the approach
of an enemy in that direction possible. Frenchmen I have met do not
scruple to talk openly of the advantages of an occupation of Marocco,
and, having settled on the expulsion of the present dynasty, are only in
doubt as to whether the country should be “divided among the Powers, or
annexed to Algeria.” It is probable that certain of the Powers might
dissent from the latter alternative, or indeed from either, and should
matters come to an issue, and a European army ever find itself face to
face with France, with Marocco as a battlefield, the assistance they
would derive from the native cavalry and infantry in this land of
soldiers would be no mean factor in the contest. It would be difficult
to calculate what number of allies could thus be raised, as there are no
available means of information, though a French writer boldly asserts
that “le Maroc pourrait lever _plus de_ 500,000 soldats ou cavaliers,
tant bien que mal équipés.” Though this is a high figure, representing,
as it does, about one-twelfth of the population, it is possibly not
above the mark, when one considers the fact that almost every adult in
Marocco possesses a gun and a knife, with a fair knowledge of the use—or
abuse—of both.
[Illustration: VIEW OF MEQUINEZ ENTERING FROM THE EAST.]
CHAPTER XVI.
Heavy rain—Hill of Kanúfa—Telegraph versus heliograph—Ladies of
Mequinez—Selection of heliograph station—Bokháris—Final instruction
in heliography—Sultan Mulai Ismael—His cruelties and sanctity—Visit
to prison.
_Mequinez, Tuesday, 11th May 1880._
The march in here from our camp at Nedja was a long one, about
twenty-two miles, and the heavy squalls of rain which beat in our faces
continually made it most unpleasant. Such weather at this time of the
year is perfectly unknown here, and is, as I noticed before, attributed
by the natives entirely to the presence of the English Bashador. Besides
the drawback of the weather, the conduct of the “son of the slave of the
one God,” who insisted on riding with us, was far from satisfactory.
Some of us had pushed on ahead of the main body to arrange about where
the luncheon-tent should be pitched, and, instead of conforming to our
steady trot, Síd Drís would lag behind, and then tear past us in
lab-el-barôd fashion, loudly calling on his God the while. It was in
vain we represented to him that at each manœuvre he bespattered us with
mud, and begged of him to regulate his pace by ours; it was of no avail,
his only answer being that Christians and Mussulmans had different ways
of riding, and that Marocco “was a very savage country.” The plain of
Fez seems to end, about twenty miles from that town, in a high ridge of
ground, on the west side of which is a deep ravine crossed by a
partially ruined bridge. The hills here closed in a little, widening out
again as we crossed a second gully and came to another and higher
table-land, which forms the plateau on which Mequinez is situated. On
the edge of this the luncheon-tent was pitched, and Síd Drís and Gavass
partook of that meal with us, enduring with composure His Excellency’s
pressing offers of wine, bacon, and other unclean edibles. We rode
forward in the same order as before, and came upon a large body of
cavalry, under the Bashaw of Mequinez, waiting for Sir John at the head
of a deep and rugged glen, the descent into, and ascent from which, was
very bad going for the horses. To this official we sent as a herald the
“son of the slave”—who was too glad of the excuse for a gallop—to inform
him that His Excellency was coming on later, and to ask for a guide to
the house we were to occupy. The range of hills to the north of the road
was of a considerable height, and one called the Jebel el Kanúfa would,
I at once perceived, make a good intermediate heliograph station,
supposing it obscured the view of Mequinez from Fez, which, however, I
found from observations on arrival here, would not be the case. I
suggested to Síd Drís that a telegraph wire would answer His Majesty’s
purpose better, and would be available for night work, for which he
still has a hazy idea the heliograph would come in handy; but he says it
would require guards every few hundred yards, as the people of the
villages would never stand the sight of such a mysterious-looking
apparatus, which, being set up by Christians, they might fear would
accomplish the downfall of the sacred cities it connected. There is a
vast olive grove, walled in like a park, through which we passed before
arriving at the gate of the city. At the entrance of this enclosure was
a ruined fort, to the top of which I climbed, at considerable risk, to
see if I could make out the hill near Fez which we had suggested as the
site for the heliograph at that end.
The approach to Mequinez from this side is very pretty. Near the
entrance is an extensive and well-kept park, in the garden of which
stands a large house, the property of some relative of the Sultan, and a
steep paved road leads up from the valley in which these grounds are
situated to the gate by which we entered. There were a good many people
collected on our route, and the crowd round this house was so great we
had regularly to fight our way through it; though, of course, the
excitement of the people was nothing like that on our arrival at Fez, as
we have sunk from our high estate to that of private individuals. This
house, which the Sultan has had put at our disposal, is a handsome
building, all the four rooms opening on the patio in the centre being
lofty, and beautifully clean. In one of these Zouche and I had our beds,
&c., placed, our chief and his family occupying the others; while in a
house next door are located the remainder of the party. The roofs of the
surrounding houses were crowded in the afternoon with ladies, mostly
unveiled, who, I am sure, would, if allowed, accord us a hearty welcome,
notwithstanding our objectionable nationality and religious tenets. All
the people here seem more cheerful and healthy than the Fasi, possibly
owing to the streets being wider and more airy, and the odours less
varied and potent than those of Fez. The best shops are all in covered
squares, which one has to visit on foot; but shopping presents the usual
difficulties, caused by the curiosity of the populace. The children,
too, seem positively in dread of us, rushing off after one look of
terror, yelling “Nasráni! Nasráni!” as if the devil was after them,
which they not improbably think may be the case. It is a tiresome
practice, as the rest of the people are thereby unnecessarily warned of
our approach. There is a remarkably fine gateway in the wall of the town
near the Melha, and of this a good view was taken by Lawless. A smaller
arch leading into the Jews’ quarter is interesting from its being the
place where heads of rebels and murderers, and hands and feet of minor
offenders, are nailed up as a warning to evil-doers. As there are no
fresh warnings hoisted at present, I conclude the people of this
district have been on their good behaviour of late. The cold at dinner
in the evening seemed intense, though I do not know what the temperature
really was.
[Illustration: GATEWAY IN MEQUINEZ. (SEE PAGE 238)]
My suggestion that the verandah round the top of the highest mosque
should be utilised as a heliograph station being indignantly rejected, I
started after breakfast with Síd Drís, Gavass, and one or two soldiers,
to a place they told me was half a mile off, but which turned out to be
about four. “Why did you say it was half a mile when you knew it was
about ten times as much?” I asked. “You have a long march in the
afternoon to make, and we did not think you would come if you knew how
far it was,” was the candid reply. The place they wanted me to see was,
except for its distance from the town, well chosen, being at the angle
of a high battlemented wall which encloses a kind of settlement of the
families of the Bokhári, or hereditary slaves of the Sultan. I was told
these men are the descendants of a number of captives brought by a
former Sultan, five hundred years ago, from the Soudan; but I am more
inclined to agree with Dr. Lemprière, who, writing in 1793, says that
the Emperor Mulai Ismael[75] introduced large numbers of negroes from
Guinea and Soudan as colonists, and formed out of them a bodyguard for
himself; these, I take it, were the ancestors of the present Bokháris.
We got up with considerable difficulty to the top of the wall, and at
the corner I mentioned was a large flat space, which will do excellently
for my purpose. Not one of the men with me (two of them natives of
Mequinez) could, or would, point out which was the Jebel Zalag, or hill
above Fez. As, however, I had determined this point to my own
satisfaction, I explained for the last time to my two intelligent pupils
how they were to align their instrument on the Jebel Zalag at some fixed
hour when their colleague would be there with his, and how to put
themselves into communication with him.
The elevated plateau of enclosed land which lies between the Bokhári
village and the town has at one time been laid out in elaborate pleasure
grounds and gardens, among which the many buildings of massive
construction—most of them, however, in ruins—are evidence of greater
grandeur and extent than anything to be seen near Fez. All these must
have been the work of Mulai Ismael only two hundred years ago; so the
complete ruin which has overtaken many of the buildings is strange,
except that everything in this country seems to develop a faculty for
decay as soon as created; and of the Sultans of Marocco it may be said,
as truly as of the Venetian Doges, “their palaces are crumbling to the
shore.” This one on the south side of the town, built in 1680 by Mulai
Ismael, was much damaged by an earthquake in 1755, and has since gone
from bad to worse. The terrible cruelties practised upon his Christian
slaves and others by this comparatively modern Nero have been the theme
of one or two writers in the last century.[76] He was always attended by
several hundred Bokhári youths, who delighted to act as his
executioners, though they as often played the _rôle_ of victims, and
were obliged to carry with them a “change of cloaths to shift when
bloody,” as their patron was in the habit of beating and torturing them
so that “sometimes you shall see forty or fifty of them sprawling in
their blood, none of them daring to rise” till he left the place.
Another disagreeable practice of this monarch was “tossing” his
retainers. This operation consisted in four strong negroes seizing a man
by the hams; they then threw him up with all their strength, and at the
same time turning him round, pitched him down, head foremost. An
Englishman who was witness of many of his barbarities, says,—“His wrath
is terrible, which the Christians have sometimes felt; for one day,
passing a high wall on which they were at work, he made his guards go up
and throw them all off the wall, breaking their legs and arms;” and no
doubt, in the walls past which I rode to-day are many skeletons of those
whom he would order their fellow slaves to “bury alive and beat down
along with the mortar of the wall.” His Majesty, however, was impartial
in his cruelties, for he would frequently order his Moorish subjects “to
be burnt, crucified, sawed in two, or dragged at a mule’s tail through
the streets till they are torn to pieces.” Notwithstanding, and indeed
chiefly by reason of his enormities, he was regarded as inspired by his
subjects, and particularly his women, who numbered about two thousand,
and of whom he would sometimes “despatch” as many as thirty in a day,
“by what they call geesing,” which seems to have been some refinement of
the art of hanging. The head of the eunuchs who looked after them was a
man of immense power and wealth, who “keeps a seraglio of his own, which
he maintains purely out of ostentation.” In Mulai Ismael’s reign this
town became a flourishing city, and by the frightful severity of his
punishments law and order seem to have been established throughout the
empire, which for the first time was consolidated into one kingdom. The
largest mosque in the place is named after him, and is considered as of
almost equal sanctity with that of Mulai Edris at Fez.
[Illustration: GATEWAY IN MEQUINEZ.]
On the way back from our reconnoitring expedition I mentioned to one of
the party my wish to see the inside of a prison, every attempt to do so
at Fez having failed, even when I applied to Síd Búbakr for assistance
in the matter. He at once said he knew the kaïd of the jail here, and if
we let the others go on in front, he would take me to it, which he
accordingly did. Prisoners in this country are allowed to make baskets
and do other work in the jails, that part of the profits which arises
from the sale of the articles, and is not pocketed by the jailor, going
to purchase food for the prisoners. If a man is unable to work, and has
no friends outside to support him, the amount he gets is very little
indeed—in many cases not enough to support life, and deaths from
starvation in time of famine, when prices are high, are numerous. The
casual visitor to a jail only gets as far as a strong door, with a hole
cut in it, from which there issues an insufferable stench, and through
which small lean arms are thrust, holding out wicker and grass bags,
&c., for sale. I never heard of anyone getting beyond this door, but
leaving it on our right, we came to a small court where several
evil-looking officials were sitting. After some remonstrance my friend
and I were taken to a doorway strongly barred, and so low that I had to
bend almost double to get under; having accomplished which we found
ourselves in an open yard with fifty or sixty occupants. Some looked as
if they thoroughly deserved to be there; others, utterly hopeless and
dejected, as though the irons most of them wore round their legs were
eating into their soul; others, again, were fighting and tearing at each
other over some food, while the remainder sat stolidly expectant of
whatever might befall them, and apparently quite indifferent as to what
that might be. All, however, joined in a murmur of astonishment at the
unexpected apparition, and as they crowded round to get a nearer sight
of the Nazarene, I thought I should take away many a lively souvenir of
my visit. Suddenly, the heavy lash of their gentle guardian descending
on their bare shoulders caused a general stampede, and gave me an
opportunity of looking round. In a room off the open court were three or
four men decently dressed, and of a different class from the wretches in
the yard. One was a middle-aged man in a dark blue sulham, or native
cloak; he had an angry yet unhappy expression, and seemed known to my
cicerone, who told me he was, till lately, colonel of one of His
Majesty’s regiments. “And why is he here?” I asked. “The order of our
lord,” with a shrug of the shoulders, was the reply. A young, rather
good-looking fellow, lying in the opposite corner, I was told had been
Bashaw of a province in the south. “And for what crime is he here?” The
same answer and another shrug was all the information I received. On my
way out my attention was attracted by a man so emaciated as to be hardly
human, round whose bony limbs the irons had made a horrid festering
sore. As he lay on the ground, he stretched out a hand to touch me as I
passed, and on enquiry into his case I heard he had been an inmate of
that filthy den for eighteen years on a charge of murder, for which he
had been unable to pay the blood-money. “But I never committed it,” he
kept on saying, as he overheard the conversation between the jailor and
my guide; and certainly, whether he did or not, I think in his case the
punishment exceeds the offence. I expect a moderate sum of money would
have procured the release of any of these prisoners, except, perhaps,
the Colonel and the Bashaw, who were being detained and periodically
tortured till they had disgorged the treasure they were supposed to have
amassed during their respective commands. This is a not unfrequent
ending to the tenure of a high governorship. The gang followed us to the
grating through which we made our exit, with cries which seemed to be of
entreaty and expostulation, and from another quarter of the jail came
some piercing yells, into the meaning of which I enquired. “It is a
madman who is sick,” they answered; and on my wanting to see him I was
told he was a saint, who, during his periods of indisposition, gave
utterance to things it would be “harámi” for a Christian to hear. I hope
the story was true, but the thickness of the leather bastinado-cords
which the jailors carried, and the fact that at least one man in that
prison during the last six months has died under the lash, made me
doubtful on the subject. We found, on getting outside again, that the
rest of the party, having noticed our horses being led about at the foot
of the lane, had divined our whereabouts, and were exceedingly indignant
with my friend for his indiscretion in admitting me to the jail. He
seemed much perturbed at the disapproval of his fellows, and begged me
never to mention his name as having acted as my cicerone on the
occasion, hinting that from the way the others spoke he may have
endangered his own liberty, if nothing worse, by his good nature.
CHAPTER XVII.
Departure from Mequinez—Volubilis and Zarhún—Mulai Ismael and
the devil—Quintus Cæcilius Domitianus—Description of
ruins—Horse-stealers—Hondius his map—Ptolemy—Failure to enter Mulai
Edris—Fate of impostor—Arab tents—Dangerous route—Berbers and Jews.
_Camp, near Volubilis, 12th May 1880._
[Illustration: RUINS OF VOLUBILIS.]
We left Mequinez by a gate on the north side of the town, and rode
through a quantity of arable and waste land, which seems to form almost
an entire circle round the place, and was possibly a suburb of the city
in former days, being enclosed, like the town, by a high wall. About a
mile from the town we crossed by a bridge a deep but dry watercourse,
and four miles on forded a river, and continued our march along its
right bank. Another and smaller one we crossed about half-way here,
after which we climbed up a steep hill, a spur of the Zarhún range, from
the other side of which we saw our camp, and a little beyond it the
magnificent remains of what is now generally admitted to be the ancient
Roman town of Volubilis. About a couple of miles to the east of these,
and prettily situated in a sort of angle between two hills, is the
sacred town of Zarhún, or Mulai Edris, where the original saint of that
name, father of the founder of Fez, is buried, and to whose shrine all
Sultans of Morocco, before their coronation, must come and pay their
vows. The latter part of the road is strewn, at long and irregular
intervals, with enormous blocks of the gray limestone of which the ruins
are built. How they can have been taken from the place at all without
the aid of machinery to lift, and wheeled vehicles to transport them, it
is difficult to say. They are said to have been removed in the time of
Mulai Ismael (seventeenth century), whose taste for building could never
be satisfied, and who boasted he would make a road from Mequinez to
Marocco “on which a blind man could find his way,” _i.e._ by feeling it
along the wall. This charitable work was cut short by the monarch’s
demise. He is said by his enemies to have employed the devil to carry
the stones, but having had some misunderstanding with the Evil One
regarding the compact, his Sharífian Majesty was carried off by his
Satanic brother before his time. Our camp had been pitched on the left
back of the Wad el Khúman—Tissot calls it the Faraom—across which I
rode, and then walked up through a sort of prickly scrub to the ruins,
where I found Lawless and White, who had preceded the column, at work
with the camera. About twenty of the villagers who followed us round
appeared much interested in our proceedings, and one of them took us to
a large stone lying on the ground in a slanting position, with a long
inscription on it, which we transcribed as well as we could. This must
be the one overlooked by Windhus in 1721, but copied by Leared and
Tissot a few years ago, and which is incontestably proved to be the
epitaph of Cæcilius Domitianus, decurion of Volubilis. There is a big
longitudinal crack or rather gap in it, which made it hard to decipher
many of the words. Distinct remains of houses and walls are to be seen
all over the rising ground on which the town must have stood, and on a
level plateau at the top are the ruins of two buildings, one of them
especially of a considerable size. Of the smaller of the two there
remains a fine triumphal arch, and contiguous to it a massive square
keep or outwork, with immensely thick walls. In one of its faces there
is a small doorway so singularly out of keeping with the rest of the
building as to suggest the work of a later age; but the fact of the
stones being neatly cut to fit the bend of the arch is against that
theory, as such work would have been beyond the skill of the Goths and
Arabs who succeeded the Libyans here. A little to the east of this is
the larger building, of which the two arches, standing east and west,
are in good preservation, though the centre stone which supports one of
them is considerably displaced. It measured about forty yards by thirty,
the superstructure over the arches and a part of the south wall which
remains intact being about 40 feet high. The blocks of stone used in the
building are well cut, massive, and rectangular, and, lying about, are
fragments of round pillars over eight feet in length. The stones used in
the south wall are so fashioned as, when placed one above the other, to
give the appearance of a split column applied to and supporting the
wall. In 1721 this ruin is described as “good part of the front of a
large square building 140 feet long and about 60 high,”[77] of which
part of the four corners was still standing. It is interesting to notice
what have been the ravages of time since then, for none of the corners
are standing, and the walls are certainly not, if they ever were, sixty
feet high. It probably received a severe shake in 1755 from the
earthquake which affected Mequinez so severely.
The inhabitants of Mulai Edris, or Zarhún, the adjacent town, are all
descendants of the Prophet; and in the afternoon two of them obtained
access to the camp on pretence of bringing a young fawn as a present to
Miss Hay. At 9 P.M. there was a great uproar among the swarms of guards
supplied by the town, and it appeared these two men had been caught
trying to steal our horses. They were securely bound, and handed over to
old Kaïd Ali, who commands the escort. After this the chief men of the
town pitched a tent close to us, from whence they sallied out
periodically to visit the sentries. Taking a stroll before turning in at
night, I passed by it and was loudly challenged, “Skôn hada” (Who is
this?), while guns were ominously handled till they made out who I was.
On revisiting the ruins this morning I was shown another and smaller
tombstone, almost hidden in the coarse vegetation which covers all the
hill. I copied its inscription[78] on a bit of paper as accurately as I
could, much to the amusement of the men who had pointed it out, and who
seemed quite pleased at the interest shown in the ruins, of which they
are very proud. The concluding words, _Filio piissimo pos._, were as
clear as if cut yesterday—an effect attributable, probably, to the
climate, which is, however, not so indulgent in regard to Moorish
workmanship. Several writers have treated of the _questio vexata_,
whether these ruins are those of Volubilis or no, and to their
arguments, which are most of them more worthy of notice than mine, there
is little to add. Ancient historians speak of it as a flourishing town,
and if one could trust to the distances given by the writer of the
“Antonini Itinerarium,” there is no question but that Volubilis and
modern Fez are identical. He says Volubilis is “Mill. pass. xvi.” from
Aquæ Dacicæ, which is rather under the distance of Fez from the hot
sulphur springs of Ain Sí Yúsuf, or, as Tissot calls them, Ain el
Kibrit, and which are certainly synonymous with the above. Leo
Africanus—a great authority on all affairs Morescan—gives little or no
assistance in solving the problem, and concludes his arguments by the
incontestable theory that “by the Latine letters which are graven on the
walls I am rather of opinion that the Romans built this towne.” He also
mentions a town in this neighbourhood called Gualili, in which was the
tomb of the saint Idris, and that some distance from it were the ruins
of “Cassar Pharaon.” The name of Gualili seems now unknown, but in
“Hondius his map of Fez” (1600) I find a town “Gualila” just about in
the position of the modern Zarhún, or Mulai Edris. To the _east_ of this
town is placed Pharaonis Palatium, which is clearly wrong, as the ruins
are and always must have been to the west of it. The name of Kasr
Fara’ún tells us nothing, as there are fifty other ruins in Egypt and
elsewhere to which the natives have given this appellation; and it is
improbable that the Pharaohs are responsible for anything so far west as
this. Considering what must have been the scale of the original
buildings, and the almost superhuman labour involved in their
construction, it is strange that the classical writers at the
commencement of the Christian era, who treat of these parts, should not
have given us more certain information about this most conspicuous and,
except Shella, most westerly monument of the great Roman Empire.
[Illustration: VOLUBILIS.]
Ptolemy, from whose writings savants have extracted many geographical
facts about Marocco, tells us that Volubilis was on the Subur, four
miles from Tocolosida, and on the road from thence to Tangier. Now,
though there are some Roman remains three or four miles south of Kasr
Fara’ún, which might do duty for Tocolosida, the Subur (Sebú) does not
pass within fifteen or twenty miles of either place; so his testimony,
generally so useful, fails us in this instance. Speaking under
correction, I am of opinion that the large tombstone in memory of a
citizen of the place ought to go far towards proving its position; while
the imposing aspect of the grand old ruins—nobler in their decay than
the newest palace in this land of mud and concrete—combined with the
admirably chosen site, show that an important town must once have stood
here; the weight of evidence seems, therefore, in favour of its having
been Volubilis.
Whilst “meditating amidst decay,” and wondering if it would be possible
to get nearer to the sacred town of Mulai Edris—about two miles off—into
which no Christian has ever penetrated, a benign-looking old gentleman
rode up on his mule, and to him I explained in rather faltering Arabic
my wishes. He seemed to make no objection, so I went on, accompanied by
Haynes, and followed by our mounted soldier, who had expressed his
unmistakable horror at our intentions. Looking round presently we saw
our smiling old friend had disappeared, and only the soldier, muttering
and sulky, remained. A little way on we came on two men who were loading
their guns and took no notice of us: but when within about
three-quarters of a mile from the gate we were met by five or six men,
all armed, who barred the road and insisted on our turning back. From
the soldier we got no assistance, and the excitement and clamour of the
others prevented our getting in a word edgeways, which was of less
importance, as it would certainly not have been understood. We therefore
turned our backs on the holy city, after I had taken a good look at it
through my glasses, and Haynes had made a hurried sketch. The town,
which is on a slope, is small, but compact, containing, I should say,
from 1500 to 2000 inhabitants. A massive-looking building is on the
south side, and the centre seems laid out in gardens; to the north, and
extending outside the wall, is an edifice with a large mosque attached,
possibly containing the tomb, which is said to be very beautiful, and
ornamented with marble columns from Volubilis. Above us, on our left
hand, was an olive grove reaching to the city walls, and below us, to
our right, were gardens and orange groves along the banks of the stream.
On either side and at the back of the town rose the dark hills of the
Zarhún range, shutting out the country beyond. If I am not mistaken in
my geography, there must be a short cut from here across the hills to
the more hospitable and less bigoted town of Beni Aamer, which we
visited a month ago.
A curious story connected with the shrine of Mulai Edris was told me
to-day. It seems that some years ago a claimant to the throne of
Marocco, who gave himself out as a Saint and the Elected of God, caused
a considerable stir in the north-west portion of the empire, several
large tribes having become his adherents. Marching south he came to Ben
Aouda—a place we camped at on our road to Fez—and, in an engagement with
some troops the Sultan had sent against him, slew the father of the
present kaïd. Going on to Habassi, the father of our friend there
temporised with him, giving him a horse and showing him other
attentions. He was now at the head of a considerable force, and came
here to pay his vows at the shrine, as is customary, before being
proclaimed as Sultan. He had hitherto got the best of the troops sent to
oppose him, and having risked his person on every occasion, and never
having received a scratch, his followers fully believed in his sanctity.
The two Sharífs here in charge of the tomb, when they heard who was
coming, debated together, saying,—“If he is a holy man, as he declares,
and the Elect of God, our knives while he is praying at the shrine will
have no effect on him; otherwise he is an impostor, and an enemy to our
Lord and grand Sharíf.” Consequently, when he came to prostrate himself
in their presence at the tomb, one of them, plunging his knife into him,
literally disembowelled him; so he died, and the Sultan, thus rid of a
very troublesome foe, handsomely rewarded the holy man who had wrought
him this deliverance.
_Camp, Sídi Adab, Friday, 14th May 1880._
Though there would have been no possibility of effecting an entry into
Mulai Edris, we were all sorry to have had so short a time in the
neighbourhood, for we resumed our march towards Rabât after the usual
night’s halt. The high and gently undulating plateau above Volubilis is
about on a level with the town of Mequinez thirteen miles to the
south-west, and for miles round was literally carpeted with wild
flowers, whose varied colours, and the partiality with which each
species confined itself to certain ground, gave to the landscape a
brilliant and most unique appearance. Dark blue, yellow, and red were
represented by iris, marigold, and poppy, all of the brightest hues,
which covered the country in artificial-looking patches of about an acre
in size; while farther on, the delicate blue tint of whole hills and
valleys clothed with convolvulus and borage made a pleasant object for
the eye to rest upon.
Riding a little distance from the track I came on an Arab dúar, which
had just been shifted from its original position, about thirty yards
off. It was circular in form, with a strong prickly hedge built up round
it, the chief’s tent being by itself in the centre of the ring. I have
noticed that in neighbourhoods infested by robbers, as is the case here,
they always adopt this plan for the sake of protection, while in
peaceful districts the tents are dotted about anyhow. They had not quite
completed their move—an operation which takes place at certain periods
to get rid of the parasites which at last become too active for even
these thick-skinned Bedouin to endure. The tents are always of an oval
shape, in keeping to which pattern they are very conservative, for Shaw,
writing in 1732, alludes to their oblong form, like a ship’s bottom
turned upside down. This simile, however, the talented writer has
borrowed from an earlier author than himself.[79] From the dúar I
mentioned a man came running out, and showed me his arm, which had
apparently sustained a compound fracture, the bone protruding beyond the
skin, and which was roughly bound up in a sort of wicker splint. I
explained by signs that I could do nothing, but told him, in what I
flatter myself was comprehensible Arabic, that he would find a doctor in
the Bashador’s camp at Kariya el Abd-er-rahman Shlíah, where we remained
that night. He followed me some distance, but I am sorry to say never
turned up in camp, and is probably cursing me now for not curing him,
all Christians—so they think—being skilled in medicine and surgery. From
the end of the high table-land, along which our road for the first ten
miles took us, there was a magnificent view of our old friend the Plain
of the Sebú, which lay stretched out before us in a northerly and
westerly direction, and which we met, after descending the hillside, at
a point about three miles from the gorge by which we quitted it on our
way to Fez a month ago. Here we were to have found our luncheon-tent,
but the “boy Hamído” in charge had been led astray; and had it not been
for Kaïd Ali providing us with rugs to sit on, Moorish tea, and some
excellent mutton, which we were not ashamed to eat with our fingers, we
should have fared badly. The olive grove we halted in was cool and
shady, and a supply of oranges and milk brought by some villagers formed
an excellent dessert, making us forget our loss, and take a less keen
pleasure than we otherwise should have done in the kaïd’s assurance of
vengeance to be wreaked on the soldier who led Hamído wrong. A river,
the Wad el Rdem, flowed past this olive grove, and we followed its
course the remainder of that, and part of the following day. At night
there were very few guards round the camp, and a beggar, or saint,
roamed among the tents all night, calling on the Deity by every
attribute applied to Him, and they are many, in the Arabic language. I
walked round the village before dinner. Its inhabitants seemed friendly,
especially the gentler sex, a number of whom ran out in great excitement
to look at us. One was exceedingly pretty, but more modest than her
elders—and ugliers.
From Zarhún (Volubilis) to Rabât there is a short cut through the
country inhabited by the Zemmúr tribe—a lawless set, who are at present,
as indeed they usually are, in a state of rebellion against the Sultan.
By this route, which would have taken about three days, we had been
anxious to come; but the authorities at Fez, being afraid of what might
happen, declined to sanction it. Consequently, our first march out of
Volubilis was due north, and in the opposite direction to Rabât; but
after leaving Shlíah, we turned westward, fording, in the course of a
wearisome twenty-three-mile march, the Wad el Rdem and the Wad el Beht,
either of which would, I should say, be impassable in the rainy season.
The plain through which we passed was wholly waste; no crop of any sort
but thistles, of which there was an abundant supply. At the borders of
Sherarda and Beni Hassan we were met by a kaïd of the latter province,
his son, and six attendants, who rode with us to the banks of the Wad el
Beht, where his district ended. He was a dark, rather ill-looking man,
of few words; his son, a lively youth of sixteen, was well mounted, and
had a handsome saddle and koumia,[80] of which he seemed very proud. One
of his men, with whom, through the interpreter, I got into conversation,
asked how I liked Moorish saddles, and remarked on the _strength_ of my
bit—an ordinary pelham. _His_ horse’s mouth was, as usual, full of blood
from the severity of the one he was using, and with which I hope he will
himself be ridden hereafter. We had luncheon under the biggest palm-tree
I have yet seen, which sheltered us all. It was on the banks of the Wad
el Beht, which we forded afterwards. The river there was swift and
muddy, with high banks. The soldiers told us it “disappears into a hole”
some way farther on, and this turned out to be so far true, that the
river never does reach the sea, but loses itself in a big swamp, through
the outskirts of which we passed with difficulty later on. If it only
persevered a little longer, it might discharge itself into the Sebú,
which runs near the marsh in question. During the great drought of 1878
the Wad el Beht dried up altogether—a thing which had never happened
before; the cattle died, and the people, after much suffering, fled to
the hills, where they were well received and kindly entreated by the
Jebelis. In fact, these wild men of the mountains seem to possess some
remnant of ancient chivalry, and though much given to robbery and
murder, seldom if ever violate a safe-conduct given to any one who
penetrates into their fastnesses. I am told, too, that even the
unfortunate Jews, weary of persecution by the Moors, find an asylum
here, and this is confirmed by the statement of a French writer, who
says that among the mountains are to be found “certaines tribus Juives
intimement mêlées aux Berbères, dont elles portent le costume,
partageant toutes leurs habitudes, _guerrières_ même.” I think, however,
his concluding clause must be accepted with caution, as, from what I
have seen, the Israelites of Marocco are not imbued with that warlike
spirit which once animated their ancestors.
A few miles on this side of the Beht we were met by an escort of fifty
Beni Hassan, and at our camp here (Sídi Adab) by seventy more. Their
get-up is not so gaudy as that of their countrymen who escorted us
through the eastern part of the province _en route_ to Fez; but their
powder-play was as reckless, and their appearance wilder and more
unkempt. As they closed in behind us, and the parties of seven or eight
who trotted ahead came thundering back with loud yells, discharging
their guns almost into our faces, I could not help thinking I should
fight shy of their society if I ever travelled back this way “on private
affairs” without the sheltering standard of Marocco, and the odour of
sanctity which even here attaches to the person of an Envoy.
Since getting once more into the plains, the beauty of the flora is less
conspicuous, all the Beni Hassan country being covered with squills,
whose onion-like root the people pound up with water, using the fibre
for making the covering of their tents when goats’ and camels’ hair is
not available.
The country we have been travelling through for the last three days is
by far the most disturbed and dangerous we have yet visited, and at
night the noise of the guards, sitting in a continuous circle and
singing their monotonous songs close to our tents, was more than we
could stand. We all, therefore, tendered a vote of thanks to Lawless,
who, his patience being exhausted first, sallied out from his tent at 3
A.M., and with a volley of abuse and a crack of his hunting whip, sent
the offending villagers to the winds. At 8 A.M. we emerged from our
tents on to the almost trackless plain, the rain falling so that we
could not see a hundred yards in advance, while behind us rose a dense,
black bank of clouds. Some of us tried for bustard, but only put up the
smaller kind, which were very wild, and out of sight in a moment. The
people in the dúars we passed were a most ill-looking lot, though as
strongly built and hardy as were their ancestors of Beni “Chessen,” of
whose territory Leo writes, “Incolas habet validissimos.”[81] Their only
recommendation to us is that they are sworn enemies of the Zemmúr, from
whom Kaïd Ali seems apprehensive of an attack.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Threatened attack by Zemmúr—Direction of march changed—Fight with
Zemmúr—Sport spoiled—Forest of Mamora—View of Rabât—Camp at
Sla—Sallee rovers—Ruins of Shella—Female saints—Tower of
Hassan—Auction of rugs.
_Camp Sla, opposite Rabât, 17th May 1880._
About two hours’ march from Sídi Adab there was suddenly great
excitement among our escort, who dashed off with cries of “Zíd,
Zíd!”[82] in the direction of a body of horsemen who had just come into
sight, while Kaïd Ali’s guards closed round the party. As the Beni
Hassan galloped across the plain, they insensibly separated into three
bodies—a few in advance, then the main body, followed by a small rear
guard. Before the two parties came into contact, the Zemmúr—for so they
proved to be—turned tail and disappeared into the Mamora forest, to
which we had now got near. A short way on we came upon a small body of
Beni Hassan cavalry, who said it would be impossible for us to proceed,
as the Zemmúr were in force ahead of us, and having heard of our
approach, intended to have a try at our baggage. The horrible vision of
Boomgheis and Norton, each with a Zemmúr at his throat, rose to view, so
I was glad when the order was given to send back a part of our escort to
save our followers—and portmanteaux—from the fate which awaited them. We
then struck off in the new direction, and got into camp at Kontra, after
a march of twenty-six miles, instead of about eighteen, as it ought to
have been. The rain had been falling nearly all day, and at luncheon it
blew such a hurricane that we had to hold on to the poles of the tent to
keep it from being blown down. During the latter part of the march we
rode through a plain covered with long rich grass, which they never cut
or make into hay, parallel to which, and three quarters of a mile off,
was the Mamora forest, along the edge of which we saw small bodies of
the Zemmúr occasionally peeping out to reconnoitre us. Kaïd Ali,
noticing two of the party riding too near the wood, at once sent off
some of his troopers to bring them in. He says the place is swarming
with these robbers, and it would take a whole regiment of cavalry to
conduct us through the way we wanted to go. At the same time, we are
told that if we had put ourselves under the protection of these
gentlemen, they would have seen us safely through this district. In that
case we might have been subject to an attack from our present
protectors, the Beni Hassan! These Zemmúr are a _brebber_, _i.e._
aboriginal tribe, inhabiting a vast tract of land south of the Beni
Hassan country. Most of it is covered by the forest of Mamora, into the
recesses of which they retreat when the Sultan sends a force against
them to levy tribute, which they never pay without some such gentle
pressure.
Outside the dúars were many fine cattle of a larger breed than I had yet
seen. The men who had charge of them were all mounted and armed, and the
beasts were driven inside the dúar at night. The camp at Kontra was
close to the Sebú, a small tributary of which we crossed at the end of
our day’s march by a stone bridge, with two large palm-trees near it. I
had a long talk with the Beni Hassan kaïd, who camped close to us. He
says his last fight with the Zemmúr was four days ago, when two of their
men were killed. He and his troop only came a short way with us next
day, a messenger having arrived in hot haste to tell him that his
village was being attacked, and that the cattle, about which I had
complimented him yesterday, had been carried off.
The tide comes up the Sebú as far as Kontra, where it is about a hundred
and fifty yards wide, justifying the praise of it by Pliny, who writes
of the “Subur amnis ... magnificus et navigabilis.” From thence it winds
north towards the outlet through which it flows into the sea at Mehdía.
We left it on our right hand, and presently came on a large body of
Udaiah, or regular cavalry, who are out in camp for the purpose of
punishing the Zemmúr, and whose commandant sent forty men as an
additional escort for the ladies, while we, with our guns and thirty men
of a neighbouring tribe who had joined us, went into the forest in
search of the Great Bustard. This bird is the _Otis tarda_, of which we
saw several between Fez and Mequinez, and it is still to be found in
many parts of South Europe, though the species is extinct in Great
Britain. The trees were chiefly cork, under which the long grass and
tall chamomile grow in great luxuriance. Our guides were queer-looking
fellows on small wiry horses, and all had guns; they had a remarkable
kind of coiffure, their heads being adorned with small red caps,
sticking out from which, on either side, were tufts or rather bushes of
black shaggy hair. Their chief was an intelligent fellow, on a
good-looking gray, which he told me had lately belonged to a Zemmúr. His
former owner, however, had wandered too far from the forest to
reconnoitre a village, and while being pursued by this chief and his
men, the gray put his foot in a rabbit-hole, and coming down, was
annexed by my friend. “And what did you do with the robber?” I asked.
“Oh, he was hurt a good deal, and we killed him, as we always do with
the Zemmúr,” was the reply.
[Illustration: TOWER OF HASSAN NEAR RABAT.]
The pursuit of bustard proved a failure. Our plan had been to go ahead
some way, and dismounting from our horses, wait for the birds to be
driven to us by the horsemen in line. This their chief would not hear
of, saying that not only should we run great risk for ourselves and
horses, but that his men being scattered would fall an easy prey to the
robbers, who he knew for certain were moving parallel to us in great
numbers through the wood. Seeing they were determined, and would not
even spread out to drive the wood, we gave it up as a bad job,—the more
courageous of the party, when well out of the forest, being as
disappointed at not having a brush with the enemy as with the failure of
the bustard-shooting. We got on the track again near the sea, and about
eight miles from Rabât, the view of which, as we rode along the top of
the cliffs, was very fine. Its white walls and minarets, bright and
shining with the rain that glistened on them, had quite a dazzling
appearance in the light of the sun, which now began to show itself. The
effect of this also was heightened by the contrast with the dark and
stormy Atlantic, whose waves rolled in with a loud booming sound against
the iron-bound coast beneath us; while on our left, and looking, from
its enormous size, close to us, rose the gigantic Tower of Hassan, like
a huge sentinel guarding the eastern approaches to the city. Half a mile
from the town we were overtaken by a tremendous blast of wind and rain,
from which we took shelter under an arch of the old Roman aqueduct,
which as late as 1790 supplied the town of Sla with excellent water.[83]
The river Búraghrag, on the bank of which we are encamped, divides Rabât
from Sla. It flows through a large expanse of sand before emptying
itself into the sea, and on this plain our tents are pitched—a rather
insecure holding-ground for tent-pegs during the fierce squalls which
sweep across it.
Some of us took a walk through Sla before dinner. There is nothing very
remarkable about the place, except the intense dislike of the
inhabitants to Christians, which is the more to be wondered at,
considering that across the river, in Rabât, this unfortunate class has
long been tolerated. Possibly the feeling is inherited from their
ancestors, the far-famed Sallee Rovers, who, up to the middle of last
century, used to commit much havoc among the English mercantile marine,
robbing and destroying the ships, and sending the unfortunate crews as
slaves into the interior. It was not until quite the beginning of this
century that any effectual measures were taken to disperse this nest of
pirates, though as far back as 1648 the place was stormed and destroyed
by the combined forces of the Sultan Mulai Zidan and Charles I. of
England,—the latter monarch receiving the following year, in a present
from the Sultan, a number of Barbary horses and three hundred Christian
slaves!
Sla (Sallee) seems more given up to shoemaking now-a-days than piracy,
whole streets being occupied with nothing but slipper shops. The Melha,
which we also visited, was full of excited Jews all in gala attire for
their Feast of Pentecost, and many in an advanced stage of intoxication,
in which we were pained to see one or two true believers joining.
In Pliny’s time, 23 A.D., “Sala” was the southernmost Roman settlement
in Marocco. He calls the river “Sala” also, and Polybius, two hundred
years before him, mentions it as “Salat,” in which spelling he is borne
out by inscriptions on coins found here. Pliny, in writing of the town,
says it was “solitudinibus vicinum”—a description which still applies,
but the elephants which he mentions as infesting the neighbourhood are a
thing of the past. The savage tribe of the Autololes, however, who in
those primitive days held in terror the whole neighbourhood of Sala,
have their representatives now in the Zemmúr, who are proved to be their
direct descendants. The few foreign consuls who live in Rabât came over
to pay their respects to His Excellency, and Mr. Frost, the English
representative, to whom we are indebted for much attention and civility,
dined with us in camp. We have now reached the farthest point of our
pilgrimage, and to-morrow our horses’ heads will be turned northwards
for the homeward march,—rather to the regret, I think, of most of the
party.
The view from our camp, across the Búraghrag, of the town of Rabât is
exceedingly picturesque, and a good photograph of it was obtained. The
town stands high on a red sandstone cliff, against the ruddy sides of
which the white houses form a striking contrast. The ancient
fortifications on the extreme west of the rock are built of this
sandstone, and mingle their warm colouring with the luxurious
vegetation, by which in parts they are almost concealed. This fortress,
and indeed most of the town, was built by Yakúb el Mansor (the
Victorious), the reputed founder, too, of Alcazar, in the twelfth
century. A part of it was rebuilt and made into batteries by a renegade
Englishman in 1772. These seem still in pretty good repair, as also are
some immensely strong bomb-proof magazines close by, but the guns in the
batteries are not fit for much.
The rain began falling in torrents as usual about twelve yesterday, from
which hour till 2 P.M. we occupied ourselves pleasantly in rowing up the
river, in an open boat half full of water, to opposite the ruins of
Shella, an ancient and very sacred town, in which are curiously combined
the traces of Roman and old Moorish occupation. Until lately, all access
to this spot for Jews or Christians has been forbidden, so very little
is known about the ruins; and from the extensive repairs effected by El
Mansor about the year 1190, it is sometimes difficult for an unskilled
eye to distinguish between the different styles. The traces of Roman
work which were most apparent was a row of vaulted arches, about four
yards across their opening, but which were more than one-half filled in
by stones and débris, and a narrow stone aqueduct, which still conveys
the waters of a spring through the ruins. The arches do not appear in
the photograph, but are just beyond and below the square tower on the
right hand, while the watercourse was farther away still to the
south-east.
[Illustration: RUINS OF SHELLA.]
From remains which have been found at Rabât, including the head of an
ancient statue, life-size, which was discovered a few years ago in the
foundations of the French Consul’s house, it is evident that Shella
increased gradually towards Rabât, and that these two towns are the
“exact equivalent of the Sala Colonia of the Itinerary.”[84] There are
some very perfect Arabic inscriptions on tombstones in the ruined
mosque, one of which is descriptive of the piety and virtues of a lady
saint; the date of this is 750 of the Hegira (about A.D. 1370), and it
tells us how the deceased lady “died in the night of Saturday the 4th of
the month Rajab, and was buried after the prayer of Friday beside the
tomb of our lord, El Mansor. May God perpetuate her magnificent works
and brilliant actions,” &c. &c. I am quite of opinion that “de mortuis
nil nisi bonum” should be said, but some of the anecdotes relating to
Latter-Day Saints of the feminine gender in Marocco would hardly tally
with the virtues inscribed on the Shella tombstone. About half-way
between Shella and Rabât stands the tower of Hassan, and adjacent to it
a ruined mosque. These also were built in the twelfth century in El
Mansor’s reign. We landed on our way up the river to look at them, and
admired the enormous proportions of the minaret, which is square, of the
same thickness all the way up, and said to be 180 feet in height. The
same architect built the tower of El Kutubia in Marocco, and the Giralda
in Seville, which latter is ascended by the same means as the one here,
viz. an inclined plane.
The tower of Hassan has lasted well, and shows the superiority of the
Moorish workmen in former days, but about two-thirds up it bears signs
of having been struck by lightning. The mosque close by must have been a
building of great extent, its roof having been supported—so Jackson
(1809) and others tell us—by 360 columns of marble. Many of these are to
be seen lying about the place, partly buried in the ground, and none
apparently in their original positions. From Shella we walked back to
Rabât, being anxious to buy some of the famous rugs made there, and
arrived in time for the afternoon sale from four to six, which takes
place whenever they have any for disposal. The sellers run up and down
the streets, with the rug on their arm, shouting the price, and noting
the offers of intending purchasers as they pass. We stood in the hall of
the Vice-Consul’s house, which is at the end of a passage connecting it
with the street, and every now and then a carpet-seller would rush down
the lane and into the hall, shout out to what figure the price had
risen, then taking our bid, would run out again to the street, being
followed in quick succession by one or two more. Whether or not they may
have received some imaginary offers in the street to raise the price
before returning, I cannot say; but we had no reason to complain of what
we paid for the few very pretty rugs we purchased. We leave here
to-morrow, the 18th, for Mehdía, our two days’ halt having been
acceptable alike to man and beast.
CHAPTER XIX.
Return of Síd Búbakr—His house in Marocco—Precautions when from
home—Mehdía—Portuguese defeat—Râs ed Dúra—Whited sepulchres—Arab
girl—Chamomile and Borage—Cork woods—El Araish—Well-to-do
Jews—Passage of Wad el Kús—Remains of Moorish fleet—Insect
life—Azîla—Irregular protection—Fording tidal rivers—_Lex talionis_.
_Camp, on the Râs ed Dúra,
Thursday, 20th May 1880._
“Síd Búbakr arrived; Sultan d—d if he will reform.” Such, I see, is the
concluding note of my diary of Tuesday night, which was brought to a
sudden termination by my candle being extinguished and knocked over by
an errant beetle. But the words, though terse, express the situation
admirably, as the faithful Síd did in fact turn up that afternoon from
Fez, but without the Sultan’s much-hoped-for signature to certain
papers. His Excellency is greatly annoyed, but a special courier has
been sent off to the Court, and the documents may yet be forwarded
straight to Tangier. In the meantime Síd Búbakr has left for Marocco,
where he lives, and where his wife and her attendants await him,
securely locked into the house during his absence, the key being in his
own possession. His house is large and commodious, but the top of the
patio is grated with iron bars, and no one can get at the fair
prisoners, with whom, however, he leaves a sufficient supply of food,
&c. This habit of the Síd’s was once nearly proving awkward to Mrs. B.,
for having been detained by floods some days longer than he expected, he
found his wife, who is enormously fat, had been improvident in her
management, and was reduced to a skeleton. On this occasion, too, the
door was not only locked, but built up with bricks and mortar.
Our march from Sla to Mehdía, where we hit off the Sebú again, was a
pleasant one, the road taking us along the top of the cliffs overlooking
the sea. Far away on our right lay the Mamora forest, and close to our
camp at Mehdía were two small lakes, with palm-trees between them. In
maps of the last century the place is generally given as Mahmora, a name
by which it is now unknown, while that of Mehdiya appears as far back as
1154 in the book of El-Bekri, and was doubtless given to the town by the
Sultan Abd-el-Moumen “en souvenir de son maitre Ibn Toumert el Mehdi.”
By Hanno and Scylax it is called Thymiateria, though it obtains little
mention from ancient writers, standing as it does at some distance from
the road from Tingis (Tangier) to the Sala Colonia. It is now almost
entirely in ruins, but must once have been a place of great strength,
having been built, according to some writers, in the twelfth century, as
a defence to the mouth of the Sebú, since when it has changed hands many
times. In the “yeere of the Hegira 921,” _i.e._ about A.D. 1540, it was
made famous by the “slaughter of the Portugals, whose bloud dyed the sea
three days, blushing to see the barbarous barbarian shed so much
Christian bloud.” A historian of that period, who was a witness of this
battle, estimates the slain Christians at ten thousand. The quantity of
storks, young and old, to be seen in Mehdía is astonishing, and their
being held sacred by the Moors renders them very tame.
[Illustration: PASSAGE OF THE WAD EL SEBU AT MEHDIA.]
The crossing of the Sebú lasted from 5 A.M. till 10 A.M. It is about a
quarter of a mile wide where we crossed, and twice that distance from
the sea. From the hill, about 400 feet high, on which the town stands,
we had a good view of Rabât and the camp of the Udaiah, near the Mamora
forest. From the north side of the Sebú Mehdía has a most imposing
aspect, as its ruined state is not apparent; and the strong sea-wall,
about 300 yards in length, finished off by a small circular fort at the
extremity, gives the place a look of great strength and solidity. In the
fort were a lot of copper guns, and two long iron ones, half-buried, lay
longitudinally across the entrance to the town. It is said that large
granaries once existed behind the sea-wall, and that great quantities of
corn were exported. We marched in an easterly direction along the right
bank of the Sebú, and from our mid-day halting-place saw Kontra about
five miles off. Lying about in the grass there were a number of rusty
cannon-balls—about nine to sixteen pounds—probably relics of Portuguese
and Spanish invasions in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. At Síd
Muhammed ben el Kheir, where we camped yesterday, we got into the
district of Habassi once more, and an escort under the shy youth, whose
acquaintance we made _en route_ to Fez, arrived to protect us.
Our road now lies parallel to the sea, and about a mile and a half from
it. Between us and the shore is a low range of hills, and on our right
hand a large marsh, which occasionally develops into a succession of
lakes, known by the general name of Râs ed Dúra, and in winter forming
one big sheet of water. This appears to have been laid down by Pliny as
the original mouth of the Sebú, but the configuration of the land is
incompatible with such a hypothesis, and his arguments, though adopted
by some geographers, are successfully refuted by Tissot.[85] The Saint
houses—or kúbbe—are thickly dotted over this country; occasionally they
are built of red brick, but are usually the regulation “whited
sepulchre.” One of each pattern was near where we halted for luncheon
to-day; the white one had three domes in good repair, and is erected to
the memory of one Síd Hamed ben Mansor. I always try to make out the
names of these buildings, as they would be one’s chief landmark and
guide if revisiting the country, but oftener than not I hear different
names for the same place, and Tweedledee, who is always willing to cater
for information, cannot find out whether the red brick kúbba is “Síd
Muhammed ben el Kheir” or “Síd Abd-er-Rahman ben Drís.” The labours of a
geographer here must certainly resemble those of Sisyphus.
While strolling near the luncheon tent I found Lady and Miss Hay talking
to a pretty little Arab girl about twelve years old. We brought her to
the tent, but her dread of the soldiers was intense, and she clung to
Miss Hay for protection, looking round every moment as if she would
escape. Her awe of the Bashador was great, and she knelt down before him
very reverently, but soon gained confidence, and was delighted with his
watch, and still more with a whistle which he gave her. She was
evidently the belle of the little camp where she lived, and was covered
with pretty jewellery. I rather coveted a necklace and brooch she wore,
which she said I might have if her mother would allow it. That lady
appeared presently with some milk and other offerings, and Hadj
Abdullah, a servant of Sir John’s, having valued the article, I paid the
mother for it, and it was handed to me by little Rahmah, who carried off
a silk handkerchief of Miss Hay’s, a knife of mine, and several other
souvenirs of her visit.
The weather is much improved, and to-night is still and warm. No
habitation of any kind is within miles of us, except two or three Arab
tents, near which the young kaïd of Habassi has pitched his. The lake of
the Râs ed Dúra, calm and beautiful, lies stretched out before us, and
from its shores comes the roaring of myriads of frogs, whose
conversation becomes more boisterous as night advances. A Saint house on
the borders of the lake bears the ponderous title of Dár Síd
Abd-el-Káder ben bú Kaïb,—at least so Mr. Náhum informs me; but I
believe he invented the name to check further enquiry.
The lake is full of eels, which the Moors catch in traps very like what
are used in England for that purpose. They have canoes (_ma’día_), or
rather rafts, made of rushes, upon which they punt themselves about to
different parts of the lake; the prow sticks straight out of the water
like that of an ancient trireme, and helps to counteract the weight of
the occupant, who uses his long pole standing on the stern. About a mile
from this lake is a smaller one, El Zerga. They are said by some
geographers to communicate, but from the lie of the land I should say
this was impossible, even during heavy floods. The smaller and more
northerly of the two seems to have a narrow channel through into the
sea; at least this was my impression, but there was not time to ride
round and make a close inspection. This channel, if existing, must
interrupt the coast line, which would otherwise be the best route,
though Rohlfs, who travelled that way in 1861, mentions no such
obstacle. It is curious how partial the distribution of flowers and
shrubs has again become in these plains; for two days they were white
with chamomile flowers, which, with wild oats ten feet high, entirely
obliterated the path; at other times, the whole country round is covered
with borage, giving one the impression that the earth was reflecting the
deep blue colour of the sky. If these two plants could be utilised, the
prosperity of Marocco would be ensured; but as the cattle will not eat
chamomile, and the Koran forbids the use of claret cup or other mediums
for the consumption of borage, His Majesty’s treasury is no way enriched
by either.
[Illustration: EL ARAISH.]
_Camp, el Araish, Saturday, 22d May 1880._
Yesterday we crossed a river, the Wad el Dráder, at a ford called
Meshráa el Háder, where there was also a bad marsh to be encountered,
and close to our camp at Soueir, last night, another stream, the Wad el
Soueir. We have been travelling since we left Rabât as if the avenger of
blood were behind,—no time to take notes, photographs, or collect one’s
ideas in any way,—and the state at which the unfortunate mules and
ponies with sore backs have arrived is horrible.
We have now come into the country of cork woods once more, and halted
to-day for some hours in one near here, arriving outside this town at 4
P.M. We are camped on the side of a hill, from which, if the rain comes
on again, we shall be inevitably washed into the Atlantic, over which we
have a glorious view. The shore below is strewn with huge boulders
rounded off by the action of the waves, and looking like projectiles on
a battlefield of giants. The market-place in the town is worth seeing,
being surrounded by an arcade prettily supported on red sandstone
pillars, the work, probably, of Christian, not of Moorish hands; for,
like most other Morescan ports, this one has had a chequered career, and
served many masters in its time. It was for long a Spanish possession,
and still savours more of an Andalusian than a Moorish town, but was
recovered from them by the famous—and infamous—Mulai Ismael in 1689.
In 1765 the French fleet advanced too far up the Wad el Kús, on which
the town is situated, when “they were surrounded by superior numbers,
and fell victims to their own impetuosity.” At the mouth of this
river—the Lixus of the Romans—is said to have been the site of the
island which contained the beautiful gardens of the Hesperides; but
there is no trace now of any such place, except a small sandbank visible
at low tide, and the configuration of the coast must have greatly
changed since those times.
The Jews, of whom the place is full, are all in their Saturday’s best,
and, luxuriating in the twofold comfort of wearing shoes and riding
mules, present a great contrast to their barefooted and black-robed
compatriots in Fez and Mequinez. One or two Moors who have taken
advantage of our escort to travel this way for the first time, are much
astonished at this license, and young Hassan, the khalífa’s new valet,
has already assaulted two Israelitish boys, to the effusion of blood,
for presuming to appear in coloured garments and slippers near our camp.
_Camp, Azîla, 24th May 1880._
We were ferried across the Wad el Kús at 9 A.M. yesterday, a large
concourse of the people of El Araish assembling to witness the
operation. While waiting on the bank, a woman burst through the crowd,
and rushing up to Lady Hay, implored her intercession for her son, who
was in prison. One of the soldiers seizing hold of her, said, “Are you
mad to speak to the Señora?” “Yes,” replied the poor woman, still
kneeling beside the litter, “I am mad because my son is chained in the
prison, and I cannot see him.” His Excellency enquired into the case,
and the Italian Vice-Consul, who had himself been robbed by the youth in
question, promised to ask the authorities to deal gently with him.
There was a strong flood-tide running up as we and old Kaïd Ali, who
always prays without ceasing on these occasions—and probably not without
reason—crossed in a big flat-bottomed boat, from the bow of which waved
the red flag of Marocco. The kaïd of the harbour—a fine-looking old
fellow, dressed completely in red—superintended the crossing, and had
provided rugs to sit on, and an awning, now become very necessary to
keep the sun off. From the north side we had a good view of the town and
its strong fort, which is built on the extremity of the rock at the
river’s mouth. In addition to this are several stone batteries and other
defences, all of which, however, would be useless against an attack by
ironclads, which, in good weather, could bring up outside the bar and
knock the place to pieces. From the fact, however, of the town standing
high, and not being commanded by hills within range, a better defence
might be made on the land side. We saw the last remnants of the fleet of
Marocco, which was destroyed by the Austrians in 1829, in the form of
some ribs of sunken ships sticking out from among the sand on the river
bank,—a ghastly relic of a more prosperous and enterprising period. The
country immediately to the north of El Araish was so flat that the Wad
el Kús almost forms a figure of 8 as it winds away to the east. Leaving
it behind us, our path took us across a succession of low sandy hills,
among which the heat of the sun was excessive, and made us look with
longing eyes at the snow-capped mountains far away towards the Rif
country. Some of the party went off in search of the site of the ancient
Phœnician colony of Lixus; but whether from the great heat overcoming
them, or from some other cause, I have my doubts if they ever found the
ruins in question; at all events, the addition they brought back to our
store of archæological information was infinitesimal. Before getting to
Sebt, our road lay through a wood of small cork trees, half-way up the
stems of which there was a thick undergrowth of yellow cistus. This
lasted some miles, after which we descended through a dense grove of
lentisk into the valley below; it was difficult work making our way
along, and some miles from camp we came on one of my mules which had
tumbled down, with Norton waiting beside it for assistance to get it up.
This was rendered by the standard-bearer and some soldiers; but some of
the other baggage did not arrive till seven o’clock, and the mona having
been sent by mistake to Síd el Yemáni, some miles off, there was no food
for the horses, though fortunately, except bread, we had enough for
ourselves. Our camp at Sebt was a really lovely spot—a small plain shut
in by hills covered with lentisk and other shrubs, and the whole of the
level ground, on which our tents had been pitched, thickly carpeted with
a deep purple bugloss (_Echium angustifolium_), the wonderful richness
of the colouring being varied and intensified by the red glow of the
sun, which was just setting behind the hills as we arrived. We have got
rather to dread that orb in these latter days of our wanderings, not so
much on account of our complexions, which, indeed, are a thing of the
past, but from the fact that the intense heat after the rain has called
into existence all manner of insect life, and creeping things
innumerable. This morning when I awoke there was a huge grasshopper,
couchant, regarding me with curious eyes from the side of the tent just
above my head; while a spider of fabulous dimensions sat on the ground
close by, as if ready to catch him should he miss his spring. The
caterpillars, too, are of a size and colour which augur well for the
beauty and proportions of the butterflies which follow.
A little way from this place we were met by the Governor’s brother—the
same man whose striking appearance attracted my attention at Síd el
Yemáni six weeks ago. The two Beni Shittim also, _père et fils_, came
out to welcome us back again. Some of us paid a visit to their house,
and had a look at the town, the ancient Zilia of the Carthaginians,
which, in its fortifications and the curious windows of its ruined
buildings, shows many traces of Christian occupation. About 1000 years
ago it is said to have been an _English_ possession!—after which the
Moors and Portuguese alternately held it till the middle of the
sixteenth century, when it passed finally into the keeping of its
rightful owners. Throughout the length of the little town runs a broad
“Calle réal;” no Melha is to be found in it, Jew and Gentile all pigging
it together; but the Christian element is not represented. Outside the
gate and close to our camp is a small kúbba, quite a gem of its sort, of
which a successful photograph was taken. We are now within twenty-five
miles of Tangier, the light of Cape Spartel is once more visible from my
tent door, and civilisation stares us in the face.
[Illustration: KÚBBA NEAR AGILA.]
Returning as we have done by the sea-coast, I have been often struck by
the difference in the comportment of the Jews in the seaports from what
is observable in the sacred cities of the interior. Here in these towns
the Moorish Jew may carry his head as high as he likes, and clothe his
feet in whatever _chaussure_ suits him best. The protection extended to
him in these parts by the foreign representatives is unlimited, and, if
not restricted, the Government of the Sultan in these towns will lapse
into the hands of a few foreigners representing the different European
Powers. What the Sultan very justly complains of is that the treaty
rights, which restrict protection to the persons and families of people
in the actual service of ministers and consuls, are altogether perverted
from their original intention. Now, trading agents are appointed in the
interior, who again enter into partnership with others, whether Jews or
Moors; and thus a numerous class is formed of intriguing and too often
unprincipled persons, who, scorning all native authority, rob, pillage,
and oppress in the name and under the protection of the Government whose
adopted children they are. It is absurd to urge in defence of this
system that these offenders will be dealt with and punished by the
consul of the Power which happens to protect them; for, living as some
of them do far in the interior, they are entirely beyond the ken or
control of the consular authorities on the coast, and except in the
seaport towns such authorities do not exist. Suppose, for instance, that
a protected subject in the interior, agent of some firm, commits a
murder or a robbery, the mere distance between the scene of the crime
and the court by which it has to be investigated makes justice difficult
of attainment, and the consul obviously cannot leave his duties to hunt
up outlying cases of crime and injustice. No doubt, cases occur of
cruelty and tyranny exercised upon the Jews in the interior by their
Moorish fellow-subjects. It must be remembered, however, that the spirit
of ill-will and hostility which manifests itself against the Jewish
population is partly caused, and much increased, by the unfair and
irregular character of the protection accorded. The fact is, that only
some eighteen hundred of them are under the protection of Christian
Governments, and these eighteen hundred do not consist of the poor and
the oppressed, but of the more wealthy members of the community, who are
willing to pay—and without doubt in many cases do pay—for the
accommodation. It is from the reports furnished by these persons that
the various societies for the protection of the Jews in London and
elsewhere are instructed, and it needs but little perception to see what
powerful motives they must have to give a pretty strong colouring to
their reports. The question now before the Conference at Madrid is not
the “Abolition of Protection,” as the cry of the Hebrew states it to be,
but the restriction of protection within its legitimate and treaty
dimensions. The 200,000 odd Jews in Marocco gain nothing by the
protection of the favoured few, but, as shown above, rather lose by it,
as they bear the burthen of the unpopularity of their more favoured
co-religionists. The Sultan of Marocco is willing enough to introduce
reforms in this matter, but he can hardly be expected to take the
initiative until the present abuse of irregular protection is redressed.
In any united European action it is also highly desirable to bear in
mind the primitive and backward condition of the country, and the
necessity of proceeding with caution in coercing Mussulmans in any
matter which even distantly affects their religion. Are we not also
somewhat too apt to judge of these people by our English nineteenth
century standard, and, _à propos_ of the murder and burning of the Jew
lately in Fez, to forget that it was not so very long ago that innocent
people were burned _alive_ on charges of witchcraft in England?—while up
to within eighty years ago I should have been sorry to guarantee the
life of a Jew who had been caught in the act of outraging an
Englishwoman.[86] Better than any coercive measures to improve the
condition of these people will be the steady encouragement of trade and
civilisation generally in Marocco; and that these influences will surely
be felt in the fulness of time there can be no doubt.[87]
_Camp, near Kaa er Remel, 25th May 1880._
There being two tidal rivers to cross to-day, an early start was
necessary, and we were all roused shortly after 6 A.M. by the powerful
exhortations of His Excellency, who, aided in his designs by Hadj Hamed,
got us all up in time. With my servant’s assistance I am usually able to
keep that functionary and his freigíahs[88] at bay; but Zouche having a
less able auxiliary, they began striking the tent to-day over his very
lightly attired person, greatly exasperating that nobleman, but
affording us much gratification as we sat at breakfast, _al fresco_, on
the plain. The Wad el Aïsha, which we came to first, had a muddy bank,
and a shifting bottom of big stones, with water up to our horses’
girths, and here several mules and ponies came to grief; the second one,
the Wad el Kharrúb, was deeper, but we crossed it in a diagonal
direction with much success. The poor old Tálib,[89] on his brand new
mule, presented by the Sultan, tried a shorter cut, and both mule and
scribe were speedily engulphed. I came on him later in the day, standing
in buff behind some bushes, on which he was drying his kit.
We were joined two days ago by a son of Hadj Hamed, whose antecedents
interested me much. It seems that some time ago a French-protected Moor
quarrelled with and killed an uncle of this lad. The French authorities
being applied to, took no notice of the crime, so the nephew, in company
with a cousin of his, waited for and slew the man just inside the gate
of Tangier; they then fled to a sanctuary at the foot of the hills,
thirty miles off, and remained there till the two bereaved families
agreed to cry quits over the matter. Hadj Hamed then sent his son on a
pilgrimage to Mecca, from whence he has just returned purged from all
offence. He seems a cheery youth, with the same hearty laugh as his
father and two uncles, who have been with us during the expedition.
The place at which we are halting to-night is close to Kaa er Remel, our
first camp out of Tangier some seven weeks ago, and to-morrow will see
us back in sight of Europe once again. Our dinner party is already
reduced by one, the medico having taken his departure along with Mr.
Haïm Secsú, the interpreter, whose anxiety of late to clasp Mrs. H. S.
to his bosom once more has been most affecting to behold. Tweedledee,
however, still remains to us, and has just told me a touching story of
how he was “thleeping in a catele enclosure,” which is close by, “and a
littel foal come to me in the dark and thuck my ear; the foolish thing
think I am her mother.” I am sorry not to have preserved more of the
simple sayings of this Israelite, in whom, during all our intercourse
with him, we have failed to discover the least symptom of guile,—and the
more sorry as, to his shame be it spoken, the photographer has failed in
placing his portrait before the public.
CHAPTER XX.
Return to Tangier—Difficult task of English Representative—Obstacles
to collecting information—Photographs—Ethnology—Berbers and
Arabs—Bokhári—Moors—Further results of Mission—Conclusion.
_British Legation, Tangier, 26th May 1880._
His Excellency, unlike some of his colleagues, does not care to herald
his return by the pomp and circumstance which attended his departure, so
sent in the escort with its red standard, which has been carried in
front of the column during all our wanderings, by a different route from
the one we took. On the road we met some officers of the Sultan’s army
on their way to the fighting near Wazan. We had seen their encampment of
five bell tents about two miles from our own last night, but had thought
they were tourists from Gibraltar being “personally conducted” into the
desert by Hadj Kadór, the handsome Muhammed, or one of the numerous
caterers to the untiring energy of English travellers. A few of the
residents of Tangier had ridden out some distance to meet us, and many
were the respectful salutations and cries of “Marhaba bík, Bashador,”
which greeted the Envoy before we arrived once more at the door of the
Legation. And now, though our Mission to the Court of Mulai Hassan has
become a thing of the past, I think it will be long before all the
strange sights we saw in this almost unknown land of Western Islam, and
in its sacred towns, pass away from our recollections; nor shall we
lightly forget the pleasant companionship which has existed among us for
the last eight weeks. Our chief,—to whom the expedition has been by no
means a holiday,—now returns to his former labour of Hercules in the way
of watching over the affairs of Marocco in connection with England, and
guarding the interests here of this unhappy empire, so highly favoured
by God, and so cursed and depreciated by man. In no part of the world
where England is represented is this task harder of accomplishment,
nowhere are there more obstacles, in the way of jealousy, ignorance, and
fanaticism, to be overcome. At the same time, it must be a satisfaction
to the Government at home, and to the public interested in this country,
to feel that, in the judgment of all who are competent to form an
opinion, the duty could not have been placed in abler or more skilful
hands.
Besides having had exceptional opportunities of seeing the interior of
the empire, and studying the social and political condition of the
people, we have performed our journey with a degree of comfort and
safety which does not fall to the lot of the ordinary traveller. I do
not know that we can boast of having added many archæological or
geographical facts to those already collected by former travellers; but
it must be remembered we were a formidable party in point of numbers,
and our itinerary having been strictly laid down by the Sultan, we could
not strike off into a new line for the sake of exploring the many places
which lay about a day’s march from our route, even though they possessed
exceptional historical interest. This was more especially to be
regretted in the latter half of our journey, viz. from Rabât here, as
the district is singularly rich in monuments of early Greek and Roman
occupation. The most unexplored part of the country through which we
passed was between Volubilis and Rabât; and though the blinding rain
which then fell almost incessantly prevented our noting more than the
actual direction of the march, while the close proximity of the Zemmúr
and other dangerous tribes rendered it difficult to carry on
investigations which took one at all off the track, I am not without
hope that the modicum of information collected about this unknown region
may prove of service to geographers.
The collection of photographs taken by “our artist” are in themselves
most interesting, and but for the tiresome scruples of the natives
against allowing themselves to be taken, some useful contribution
towards the ethnology of the various tribes through which we passed
might have been thus procured. To the ethnologist, indeed, a study of
the different races settled in Marocco would be extremely interesting,
as they would seem to be more clearly marked and separate here than in
almost any country which has been subjected to so many invasions in
former ages. The two most distinctive types seem to me to be those of
the Brebbers or Berbers (whence the name Barbary), and the
Arabs—distinct not only in appearance but in their habits and manner of
life. We came upon the Berbers at Beni Aamer, Mikkès, the forest of
Mamora, and in various villages along the coast; and there is said to be
no doubt but that they are direct descendants of the people whom the
Phœnicians, and later on the Romans, found in Marocco. The word Brebber
or Berber signifies anything indigenous, and the race which bears the
name seems to have intermarried very little with the Roman invaders, or
with the Goths who followed them, and possesses to this day a more
strongly-marked individuality than probably any other people in
existence. Of their language, sometimes called “Shellah,” little is
known. It is unlike Arabic, but is remotely allied to Coptic, which,
with it, is classed by philologists among the languages called
“Hamitic.” The group of servants opposite page 32 are of pure Berber
extraction, while the villagers who appear in the photograph of Habassi
opposite page 60 are all Arabs. Rohlfs tells us the Berbers are more
civilisable and less bigoted than the Arabs, and that their women have
more domestic influence, and are sometimes even allowed to inherit. Our
experience of the race was not fortunate, as the Beni Mtír robbers who
attacked our camp at Mikkès, and the Zemmúr who hunted us out of their
country, were essentially of aboriginal or Berber extraction.
The history of the Arabs in Marocco, who are _par excellence_ dwellers
in the plains, living in tents which they shift about at will, is of
more recent date. When the great wave of Mussulman invasion came rolling
westward in the end of the seventh century, the whole of this country
was quickly overrun, and only that part of the aboriginal inhabitants
which lived in the mountains remained unconquered; flying to their
fastnesses in the hills, their pursuers were unable to follow them, and
they now represent the remnant of the above-mentioned Brebber people.
The Christianity introduced by the Romans at the close of their first
occupation (about A.D. 430) was stamped out by the Arabs, since which
time the country—correctly described as “the most religious in the
world”—has remained, and is likely to remain, purely Mussulman. I fancy,
however, that a Moor of the present day would as soon believe that
Christianity was the religion of his country fourteen hundred years ago,
as that the balloons and trains of Europe are really existent facts.
Another great influx of Arabs occurred on their expulsion from Spain at
the conquest of Granada in 1492. For seven centuries they had governed
that vast province with vigour and success; and it is a known fact that
in many families here are preserved the title-deeds of their Spanish
possessions, to which the owners hope that some day they or their
descendants may possibly return.
Another distinctive family is that of the Bokhári,[90] or black bondsmen
of the Sultan, who, though only introduced two hundred years ago, form
with their families a by no means unimportant part of the population.
Some good specimens of these colonists are to be seen in the picture of
the group of soldiers in the Sultan’s garden at Fez (opp. p. 103). The
term Moor, though, of course, derived from the Maurusii and Mauri
mentioned by Strabo and Pliny, seems to be generally applied now-a-days
to all the three races above described, with perhaps a more special
reference to the fusion of the three, which is found chiefly among the
inhabitants of the towns. It is curious that, besides being able to
trace the word Moor to such an early source, distinct equivalents exist
in the Arabic of to-day for the names of several tribes mentioned by
writers at the beginning of the Christian era. Of all these various
ingredients of the population of Marocco, I think the Berber element the
fairest-complexioned and best-looking, the Bokhári, the biggest-limbed
and most powerful, while the Arab of the plain—of whom the Beni Hassan
are an excellent type—is the most wiry and enduring-looking of the lot.
Of the Jew, as a factor in the population of this country, it is
unnecessary to treat, as intermarriage between them and their Mussulman
fellow-subjects is too rare to admit of its affecting in any way the
national type. To the goodwill and sterling qualities of the two
excellent representatives of this chosen people with whom we have been
daily brought in contact, I have already borne a willing testimony, and
I trust that, should my diary ever come into their hands, they will not
take umbrage at the occasional substitution of their actual names for
those of their prototypes in modern English literature.
In addition to the measures mentioned on p. 224 as about to be put in
force, the other political results of the Mission (as I learned from a
garrulous Court official at Fez), are the Revision of the Convention of
Commerce and Navigation of 1856 between Great Britain and Marocco, and
the establishment of diplomatic relations between the Sultans of Turkey
and of this country; though how the conflicting claims of each of these
potentates to be the head of the Mussulman religion are to be got over
is not at present apparent. As soon, too, as sufficient money is
forthcoming, the mole at Mogador is to be extended, and the ruins of the
one here put in sufficient repair to facilitate the passage of boats to
and from the ships. A better supply of water also is guaranteed for the
town of Tangier, between which place and Gibraltar heliographic
communication (under the auspices, I hope, on this side, of Síd Drís ben
Abd-el-Wáhad) is to be established.
CONCLUSION.
My task is done, my last note made; and it is with no little regret that
I bid farewell to the scenes I have endeavoured to describe, and to
those who have been my companions for the last two months. A feeling of
uneasiness also arises that individual merits may have been overlooked,
and that those most worthy of praise have found but little in these
pages. With what especial satisfaction above all would I have attempted,
if words did not fail me, the grateful task of recording how much our
pleasure and comfort were enhanced by the presence of those fair members
of the Mission, who not only faced uncomplainingly the discomforts, and
sometimes dangers, we had to encounter, but through wet and weary
marches set us the example of cheerfulness and good humour, helping us
to pass pleasantly many a tedious hour when time would otherwise have
hung heavy on our hands. To them, and to our distinguished chief, our
cordial thanks are due; and by the rest of my fellow-pilgrims, if I have
left unsaid aught that should have found place here, I hope to be held
excused, for in the case of a party amongst whom virtue so greatly
abounded, it would be difficult to do justice to all, so the _mens
conscia recti_ must be their reward for the present.
APPENDIX.
APPENDIX A.
GENERAL LIST OF PLANTS collected in Tour from TANGIER to FEZ by Miss
DRUMMOND HAY, 1880.
BY J. Ball, ESQ., F.R.S.
NOTE.—Species not hitherto published as Moroccan marked * (12 in
number).
Ranunculus aquatilis, L. 10 miles south of Tangier.
R. chærophyllus, L. var. flabellatus. 20 miles south of Tangier.
R. palustris, L. var. macrophyllus. Between Azîla and Fez.
R. trilobus, Desf. 10 miles south of Tangier.
Nigella arvensis, L. var. North of Fez.
Delphinium pentagynum, Lam. Oued el Mikkès.
Papaver Rhœas, L. North of Fez.
Malcolmia lacera, DC. var. patula, Ball. Oued el Mikkès.
*Moricandia arvensis, DC. North of Fez.
Brassica —— ? 10 miles south of Tangier.
—— or Diplotaxis ? 10 miles south of Tangier.
Carrichtera Vellæ, DC. North of Fez.
Capsella bursa pastoris, Moench. Dar ben Oder.
Biscutella apula, L. North of Fez—Oued el Mikkès.
Raphanus raphanistrum, L. 20 miles south of Tangier.
Capparis spinosa, L. North of Fez.
*Astrocarpus sesamoides, DC. Khanat (or Khan el) Habassi.
Reseda alba, L. var. ad R. propinquam vergens. Dar ben Oder.
R. media, Lag. ? 30 miles south of Tangier.
R. luteola, L. ? South of Azîla.
Cistus Monspeliensis, L. South of Azîla.
Helianthemum Libanotis, Willd. 20 miles south of Tangier.
H. guttatum, Mill. var. South of Azîla.
Helianthemum guttatum, var. macrosepalum. 20 miles south of Tangier.
Fumaria glutinosa, Boiss. North of Fez.
Silene apetala, W. Khanat Habassi.
S. colorata, Poir. 30 miles south of Tangier.
Arenaria spathulata, Desf. South of Azîla—Khanat Habassi.
Spergula arvensis, L. 30 miles south of Tangier—Azîla.
Malope trifida, Cav. Dar ben Oder.
Lavatera cretica, L. 10 miles south of Tangier—Dar ben Oder.
Linum angustifolium, Huds. 20 miles south of Tangier.
Erodium cicutarium, L’Her. 10 miles south of Tangier—40 miles south of
Tangier—Oued el Mikkès.
Ruta chalepensis, L. North of Fez.
Lupinus angustifolius, L. ? Oued el Mikkès.
L. luteus, L. 20 miles south of Tangier—Azîla.
L. hirsutus, L. 10 miles south of Tangier.
Cytisus ? North of Fez.
C. linifolius, L. Khanat Habassi.
Genista clavata, Poir. South of Azîla.
Ononis filicaulis, Salzm. Azîla.
O. Maweana, Ball, probably. Oued el Mikkès.
*O. psammophila Durien ined., most probably near O. Gibraltarica, but
annual. Oued el Mikkès.
Melilotus sulcata, Desf. var. M. compactæ, Salzm. 10 miles south of
Tangier.
Trifolium bracteatum, Schousb. North of Fez.
T. subterraneum, L. 10 miles south of Tangier—Khanat Habassi.
T. resupinatum, L. 10 miles south of Tangier.
Anthyllis tetraphylla, L. var. North of Fez. Dentibus calycinis
longioribus.
Lotus hispidus, Desf. 10 miles south of Tangier.
Psoralea dentata, DC. North of Fez.
Astragalus hamosus, L. Azîla.
Scorpiurus—— ? North of Fez.
S. sulcata, L. ? 10 miles south of Tangier.
Ornithopus compressus, L. Khanat Habassi.
O. isthmocarpus, Coss. 30 miles south of Tangier.
Ornithopus isthmocarpus, Coss. Azîla.
Idem —— Oued el Mikkès.
Hedysarum capitatum, Deaf. North of Fez.
Vicia sativa, L. Khanat Habassi.
V. lutea, L. 10 miles south of Tangier.
Lathyrus ochrus, DC. South of Azîla.
*Sedum cæruleum, Vahl. North of Fez.
Cotyledon umbilicus, Sm. var. horizontalis, Lowe. North of Fez.
Bryonia dioica, Jacq. South of Azîla.
Ecbalium elaterium, Rich. North of Fez.
Eryngium triquetrum, Vahl. in statu juniori ? Dar ben Oder.
Œnanthe forsan, Œ. globulosa, L. Oued el Mikkès.
Idem —— ? North of Fez.
Thapsia garganica, L. South of Azîla.
Sherardia arvensis, L. North of Fez.
Galium tricorne, With. South of Azîla.
Centranthus Calcitrapa, L. Duf. Oued el Mikkès—North of Fez.
Fedia cornucopiæ, DC. South of Azîla.
Asperula arvensis, L. Oued el Mahazin. South of Azîla.
Bellis sylvestris, Cyr. Azîla.
Phagnalon saxatile, Cass. North of Fez.
Inula ? deest inflorescentia. North of Fez.
Odontospermum aquaticum, Neck. North of Fez.
Anacyclus clavatus var. = A. tomentosus. Oued el Mikkès.
A. radiatus, Lois. Dar ben Oder.
Anthemis fuscata, Brot. ? 10 miles south of Tangier.
Chrysanthemum coronarium. Azîla.
Calendula ? 10 miles south of Tangier.
Calendula ? South of Azîla.
Calendula ? Oued el Mikkès.
Carduus myriacanthus, Salzm. ? North of Fez.
Galactitis tomentosa, DC. 10 miles south of Tangier.
Cynara humilis, L. {Khanat el Habassi. {Oued el Mikkès.
Centaurea ? North of Fez.
C. pullata, L. South of Azîla.
Centaurea (desunt fl. and fr.) and C. polyacantha ? W. South of Azîla.
Cichorium Intybus, L. Khanat Habassi.
Rhagadiolus stellatus, W. South of Azîla.
Tolpis barbata, L. Oued el Mikkès.
Hypochæris radicata, L. var. Oued el Mikkès.
Tragopogon (desunt fl. and fr). South of Azîla.
Urospermum Dalechampii, Desf. {20 miles south of Tangier. {North of
Fez.
Scorzonera undulata, Vahl. 20 miles south of Tangier.
Campanula Loeflingii, Brot. forma typica. Oued el Mikkès.
Campanulacea sine fl. and fr. ? Azîla.
Statice Thouinii, Viv. North of Fez.
S—— sinuata, L. North of Fez.
Armeria Gaditana, var. tingitana, Ball in Spic. Fl. Mar. 20 miles south
of Tangier.
Anagallis linifolia, L. var. collina, Ball = A. collina, Schsb. forma
latifolia. Khanat Habassi.
A. arvensis, L. var. latifolia {10 miles south of Tangier. {20 miles
south of Tangier. {30 miles south of Tangier. {Dar ben Oder. {south
of Azîla.
Erythræa Centaurium, Pers. var. suffruticosa. North of Fez.
Convolvulus undulatus, Cav. {Dar ben Oder. {Near Fez.
C. althæoides, L. {30 miles south of Tangier. {South of Azîla.
C. althæoides, L. var. integrifolia. Oued el Mikkès. Foliis etiam
superioribus integris v. obscurè trilobatis.
C. althæoides, L. var. insignis. North of Fez. Fol. segm. linearia
sericea.
Cuscuta an C. planiflora ? North of Fez.
*Triguera ambrosiaca {30 miles south of Tangier. {Khanat Habassi.
{South of Azîla. {North of Fez.
Cynoglossum clandestinum, Desf. South of Azîla.
Idem —— ? South of Azîla.
Idem ? South of Azîla.
Anchusa italica, L. South of Azîla.
Nonnea phaneranthera, Viv. 20 miles south of Tangier.
Echium plantagineum, L. 10 miles south of Tangier.
E. sericeum, Vahl. North of Fez.
Idem var. strigosum. North of Fez.
Echium ? North of Fez.
Cerinthe major, L. 40 miles south of Tangier.
Linaria latifolia, Desf. South of Azîla.
Idem. North of Fez.
L. viscosa, Dum. Khanat Habassi.
L. reticulata, Desf.? Oued el Mikkès.
*L. Drummondiae, Nob. North of Fez.
Inter L. reflexum et L. taxiflorum media, à priori caulibus induratis
ramosis floribus multis minoribus primo intuitu diversa. A novissimâ
pedicellis reflexis, fol. dilatatis, &c., differt. Seminibus
reniform. muricatis à duobus suprà nominatis differt.
L. bipartita, W. Azîla.
Antirrhinum Orontium {North of Fez. {Oued el Mikkès.
Anarrhinum pedatum, Desf. Dar ben Oder.
Eufragia viscosa, Benth. North of Fez.
*Phelipœa Reut. Orobanche ramosa. B. and Hf. Dar ben Oder.
Orobanche fœtida, forma minor? Oued el Mikkès.
Lavandula Stœchas, L. 20 miles south of Fez.
L. multifida, L. North of Fez.
Salvia clandestina (S. Verbenaca, var. præcox) Lge. 30 miles south of
Tangier.
S. bicolor, var. calyce minus diviso. Khanat Habassi.
*? Salvia ad § Plethiosphace referenda spec. dubia an nova? North of
Fez.
Cleonia lusitanica, L. North of Fez.
Calamintha menthæfolia, Hort. var. bœtica Nob. 40 miles south of
Tangier. C. Bœtica, B. and Reut.
Stachys? indeterminable. North of Fez.
Stachys arvensis, L. Oued el Mikkès.
Prasium majus, L. North of Fez.
Ajuga Iva, Schreb. 10 miles south of Tangier.
Verbena supina, L. Dar ben Oder.
Plantago Psyllium, L. South of Azîla.
P. Coronopus, L. Azîla.
P. Coronopus? nisi fortè P. Loeflingii. 10 miles south of Tangier.
P. Coronopus, L.? forsan P. Loeflingii. Azîla.
P. serraria, L. 10 miles south of Tangier.
Corrigiola telephiifolia, Pourr. 30 miles south of Tangier.
Paronychia argentea, Sam. 20 miles south of Tangier.
Idem. 10 miles south of Tangier.
Idem. Khanat Habassi.
Loeflingia hispanica. Azîla.
Beta vulgaris, L. var. maritima, Moq. South of Azîla.
Emex spinosa, Campd. Dar ben Oder.
Rumex bucephalophorus, L. Azîla.
E. intermedius, DC. North of Fez.
R. thyrsoïdes, Desf. {40 miles south of Tangier. {10 miles south of
Tangier.
Thymelæa virgata, Meisn. {Oued el Mikkès. {Dar ben Oder. {North of Fez.
Osyris lanceolata, Hochst and St. Azîla.
Aristolochia longa, L. North of Fez.
Mercurialis annua, L. {30 miles south of Tangier. {Oued el Mikkès.
Euphorbia pubescens, Vahl. North of Fez.
Orchis papilionacea, L. Oued el Mikkès.
O. tridentata, Scop. Oued el Mikkès.
*O. coriophora, L. Oued el Mikkès.
O. latifolia, L. var. Durandii, Ball = O. Durandii, Boiss, and Rent.
Oued el Mikkès.
Serapias Lingua, L. North of Fez.
*S. longipetala, Ten. Fl. Nap. Prod. p. liii. (sub. Helleborine)
videretis. Khanat Habassi.
S. cordigera, L. South of Azîla.
Ophrys apifera, Huds.? North of Fez.
Ophrys—spec. incertum forsan ad O. musciferam referendum.
*Gladiolus byzantinus, Gawl. 20 miles south of Tangier.
Xyphion filifolium, Klatt?? Oued el Mikkès.
Idem, var. intermedium, Baker? South of Azîla.
Leucojum trichophyllum, Schousb. Oued el Mikkès.
*Narcissus pachybulbus, Dur.? (Baker).
Alisma Plantago, L. 10 miles south of Tangier.
Potamogeton natans, L. Oued el Mikkès.
Muscari comosum, Mill. South of Azîla.
Scilla hemisphærica, Boiss. South of Azîla.
Ornithogalum orthophyllum, Ten. 10 miles south of Tangier.
O. umbellatum ——?? spec. nimis incompletum. 30 miles south of Tangier.
O. umbellatum? ad speciem nullam mihi cognitam referendum. Oued el
Mikkès.
O. unifolium, Gawl. Oued el Mikkès.
Dipcadi serotinum, Medi. var. D. fulvum, Webb. 40 miles south of
Tangier.
Allium nigrum, L. Oued el Mikkès.
Anthericum Liliago, L. Sidi el Yemáni. 40 miles south of Tangier.
Simethis planifolia, Gre. and Godr. {20 miles south of Tangier. {Azîla.
Smilax aspera, L. Azîla.
Phalaris paradoxa, L. Dar ben Oder.
Airopsis minuta, Desv. 10 miles south of Tangier.
Poa aurea, L.? 10 miles south of Tangier.
Cynosurus aureus, 10 miles south of Tangier.
Festuca myurus, L. var. sciuroides. Oued el Mikkès.
F. myurus, L. var.? North of Fez.
Bromus mollis, L. var. leiostachys? Dar ben Oder.
This list contains 168 species, besides 18 uncertain or indeterminable.
(S^{d.}) J. BALL.
APPENDIX B.
TRANSLATION OF LETTER FROM KAÏD ALI TO LIEUT. HAYNES.
To our well-beloved, the excellent Chief, the distinguished Officer of
the Royal Engineers.
After wishing you a complete salaam. There has reached us your letter,
and with it a set of chess men, a present from you. May God bless you
for it, and increase your welfare.
But we are in want of a good board which will be worthy of those
beautiful chess men. When you arrive at London, send it to us.
May God bless you for it, and cause to continue your munificence.
Given 16 June 1297.
ALI BEN EL ROSHDI.
May God be with you.
APPENDIX C.
DISEASES OF MAROCCO.
Fevers, smallpox, eye diseases of every kind seem to be the chief
complaints, always excepting syphilis, which has a deeper hold on the
people of this country than, I should think, on those of almost any
other; but were the land sufficiently civilised for such action, a
Contagious Diseases Act of some kind might still be the salvation of the
people. The misguided opponents of such a measure at home could hardly
in Christian charity refuse their countenance to it here, in face of the
suffering and misery which absence of legislative restrictions has
brought upon this country. The Moors have little or no shame in the
matter, and ignore entirely the iniquity of propagating their species
under such conditions. They, however, entirely exonerate themselves and
their country from all responsibility or blame, declaring the disease
was brought into Marocco by the Jews who were driven out of Spain by
Ferdinand of Castile. Leo Africanus, however, after asserting that it
was unknown in Africa before, explains that, on the return of these
Jews, “cœperunt miseri quidam ac sceleratissimi Œthiopes cum illorum
mulieribus habere commercium, ac sic tandem velut per manus pestis hæc
per totam so sparsit regionem; ita ut vix sit familia, quæ ab hoc malo
remansit libera. Id autem sibi firmissimè atque indubitatè persuaserunt,
ex Hispaniâ ad illos transmigrasse, quamobrem et illi morbo ab Hispaniâ,
malum Hispanicum (ne nomine destitueretur) indiderunt.”[91] Considering
that such was the case in his day—400 years ago—it is wonderful that,
with nothing worthy the name of treatment to arrest its progress (the
best remedy, according to Leo, is _change of air_ to Numidia or the
Nigritarum regio!), the disease has not created more havoc even than it
has.
APPENDIX D.
EXTRACTS FROM MEMORANDA ON ARMY REFORM.
4. ... No official connected with army to enter into contracts for
supplies, &c.
5. Draws up and recommends a system of schooling and training boys and
soldiers, enabling latter after three years to return to their trades,
provided efficient substitutes from school of boys be forthcoming.
7. Office of Commander-in-Chief, while held by a civilian, to be
considered separate from Kaïd Maclean’s.
8. Points out the disadvantage of employing French infantry officers at
Rabât, recommending at all events English words of command being adopted
all through infantry.
APPENDIX E.
SUBSTANCE OF REPORT ON SULTAN’S _’ASKÁR_ OR REGULAR INFANTRY.
1. ... The number of regiments inspected was fourteen. The total number
of men, I should say, was 2000, besides 200 boys unfit to bear arms,
and about 300 officers and supernumeraries.
2. The rifles—some of very ancient dates fitted with flint and
steel—are, in their present condition, all unserviceable, except the
Martini Henry, which seem in excellent order, but of which there
were only sixty on parade. It is possible some of the American and
other rifles of comparatively modern date might be put in repair by
a competent armourer.
3. ... The clothing was of no particular pattern, and of inferior
quality; the new clothing appears to be made of stuff which would
stand very little wear and tear.
4. ... Only the English belts are serviceable.
5. The Moorish leather ammunition pouch seems good, but requires polish
to preserve it from the weather. The foreign pouches, other than
English, are unserviceable.
6. The Moorish leather bag would make a good haversack.
7. It was noticed that many men had no shoes, belts, bayonets, or frogs
and scabbards for bayonets, and that the axe—the only tool carried
by pioneers—was unserviceable.
RECOMMENDED.
_a._ Regiments to be numbered consecutively, and the numbers to be
worked on their uniforms and colours.
_b._ Men to be forbidden to employ substitutes unless properly drilled
and equipped.
_c._ That an annual course of musketry be established as soon as rifles
capable of being fired are issued; it might be commenced with the
sixty Martini-Henry rifles.
_d._ That a skilled armourer be attached to each regiment, also three
pioneers, provided with axe, spade, and other tools.
_e._ Non-commissioned officers to have some distinctive dress, and
remain permanently with their regiments.
_f._ No regiment to have more than one class of firearm, and colours
not to be carried on the rifle.
_g._ For muzzle-loading rifles the native powder-flask, bullet, and
cap-bag to be used. The breech-loading ammunition pouches are
useless for this.
_h._ That out of the 2000 men inspected, two regiments be formed of,
say, 700 each, with officers, non-commissioned officers, drummers,
and pioneers complete. The remainder, unfit for service, to be
disbanded, and boys to be trained for soldiers.
_i._ That a blanket be issued to each soldier when on active service,
and that pipeclay for belts and slings, and blacking for pouches, be
taken into use.
_N.B._—The Turkish infantry are armed with the Peabody-Martini, and get
their ammunition from America; they carry a blanket on active
service, and 120 rounds ammunition. They make their own boots out of
raw hide, and carry on pack animals plenty of shovels, picks, and
ammunition. Their cavalry are armed with Winchester repeating
rifles.
From what I observed ... I am still of opinion that the system lately
advocated by me, and communicated through Your Excellency to His
Majesty, might be successfully carried out.
APPENDIX F.
EXTRACTS FROM LETTER OF HIS EXCELLENCY SIR JOHN DRUMMOND HAY TO THE
AUTHOR.
_Fez, 9th May 1880._
... I have been requested by the Sultan to convey to you His Majesty’s
thanks for the able reports you have prepared at His Majesty’s desire
regarding the body of _’Askár_ you inspected.... The Sultan has given
orders that the regulations you have presented should be adopted.... His
Majesty requests me to say that he trusts you will preserve the sword of
honour which has been presented to you as a mark of His Majesty’s sense
of the service you have rendered on this occasion, and of your visit to
his Court.
APPENDIX G.
SPECIMEN OF A “SHARÍFIAN LETTER” FROM THE SULTAN TO GOVERNOR OF MAZAGAN,
DECEMBER 1879.
Praise to the one God!
Complaints have been addressed to the Sharífian Court, exalted of God,
by the Jews of Mazagan, that thou dost ill-treat them, imprison, flog,
and impose penalties on them in an unjust manner.
Governors who act thus do not follow the precepts of our religion.
Dost thou not know that on the day of the resurrection the unjust will
have to answer before God for the acts of injustice they may have
committed?
This is the word of God accepted by all creeds.
The Prophet—may God make our prayers acceptable through him—said,
“Whosoever acts unjustly towards the Jew will be called to account on
the day of resurrection.”
The Jews are our tributary subjects. We, therefore, order thee to cease
from further persecution of the Jews, and to act with leniency and
kindness towards them. May God assist thee in doing so.
APPENDIX H.
INSCRIPTION ON STONE AT VOLUBILIS.
MEABIO LIILCI
HROGAT OAN XVII
UABIUS CRISTUS
... PATER
FILIO PIISSIMO POS.
Copied on the spot, 13th May 1880. First line rather doubtful; dotted
letters doubtful.
INDEX.
A
Addison, 30.
Ad Mercuri, 17.
Ain el Kibrit, 250.
Ain Sí Yúsuf, 250.
Aissowieh, the, 197.
Alarcos, battle of, 41.
Alcazar, 39, 267.
Algeria, 233.
Allarbi, 32, 42.
Alonzo of Castile, 41.
Amín, 210, 215, 218, 230.
Aquæ Dacicæ, 250.
Arab Scribe, 16, 121, 221, 285.
Army of Marocco, 100, 182, 184, 206, 209, 229. App. D, E.
Artillery, 9, 103, 120, 218, 229.
_’Askár_, 69, 213, 214. App. E, F.
Assistant, the, 142, 143.
Atlantic, the, 13, 265, 277.
Autololes, 266.
Awára, 13.
Azîla, 16, 21, 41, 281.
B
Bábú, the Bengali, 18.
Bairám, feast of, 198.
Ball, Mr. J., App. A.
Bastinado, 35, 244.
Bedawa, 203.
Bell, Mr., 194.
Ben Aouda, 49, 187, 189, 253.
Beni Aamer, 75, 99, 253, 290.
—— Chessen, 260.
—— Hassan, 59, 66, 71, 257, 262, 292.
—— Mtír, 93, 232, 290.
Ben Shittim, 16, 281.
Berber, or Brebber, 76, 85, 92, 258, 289, 290, 292.
Bleeding, 15, 125.
Boar-hunt, 18, 30.
Boke of the Gouernoure, 58.
Bokhári, 99, 116, 208, 239, 291, 292.
Books in Fez, 223.
Boomgheis, 31, 97, 130, 226, 262.
Braganza, Catherine of, 3.
Brooke, Sir A., 20.
Bustard, 263.
C
Chamberlain, 99, 110, 116.
Charles I., H.M., 266.
Charles II., H.M., 3.
Christians, 25, 218, 256, 268, 273, 277, 281.
Christian slaves, 170, 195, 240, 241, 266.
Cold, 35, 50, 238.
Colville, Captain, 31.
Commander-in-Chief, 142, 206, 218, 233. App. D.
Conference at Madrid, 4, 5, 177, 221, 225, 283.
D
Dance at Italian Legation, 7.
—— of Aissowieh, 200.
—— of Hillmen, 188, 230.
Dancing before the Ark, 188.
Dár Síd Abd-el-Káder ben bú Kaïb, 275.
Dshar, 17, 76.
Dúar, 17, 71, 75, 255, 263.
Duval, 227.
E
Edrisi, 41.
Eels, 275.
El Araish, 36, 45, 277.
El Bekri, 41, 270.
El Hamáya, 35.
El Karuin, 172, 224.
El Má Bared, 45.
El Úted, 21.
El Zerga, 276.
Emkaddem, 200, 201, 203.
Erckmann, le Capitaine, 103, 113, 140.
Ethnology, 289.
Eunuchs, 162, 193, 241.
“Eyebrow,” 122, 126, 144, 148, 191, 194.
F
Fahs er Rihán, 34.
Famine, 28, 184, 258.
Fasi, 97, 100, 125, 238.
Fez, description of, 108, 109, 124.
—— entry into, 98.
—— first view of, 95.
—— Governor or Bashaw of, 99, 126, 150, 206.
—— inns of, 211.
—— Merchants of, 101.
Foreign Office, 2.
Freigíah, 133, 195, 285.
Frost, Mr., 267.
G
George, 32, 226.
George III., H.M., 134.
Ghadda, 34.
Gibraltar authorities, 3.
Giralda, 269.
Gordon Cumming, Colonel, 16, 187, 196, 229.
Grand Vizier, 97, 106, 121, 126, 143, 161, 191, 214, 216.
Gualili, 250.
Guinea, 239.
H
Habassi, 51, 253, 274, 275, 290.
Hadd el Gharbía, 15, 19, 77.
Hadj Abdulla, 275.
—— Ali, 32.
—— Hamed, 26, 30, 32, 43, 95, 285.
—— Kadór, 9, 287.
Haïk, 16, 171.
Haïm Secsú, 5, 121, 220, 286.
Hájeb, 126, 148, 158, 213.
Hamído, 20, 31, 256.
Hanno, 73, 272.
Hay, Lady, 10, 12, 32.
—— Miss, 26, 84, 91, 151, 156, 164, 231, 249, 275.
Haynes, Lieut., C.E., R.E., 3, 10, 46, 132, 140, 209, 212, 252.
Heat, 19, 115, 279, 280.
Heavy rain, 44, 50, 57, 58, 71, 93, 235, 260.
Heliograph, 2, 6, 35, 122, 133, 139, 192, 239.
Henri III., 228.
Hesperides, 278.
Highland dress, 112, 114, 119.
Hondius, 250.
History of the Jews, Milman’s, 103.
Hooker, “Doctor,” 33, 97.
—— Sir Joseph, 26.
Horses, 10, 30, 134.
Hospitals, 211.
J
Jackson, 269.
Jebel el Kanúfa, 236.
Jebel Filfal, 72.
Jebel Zalag, 139, 239.
Jebeli, 119, 120, 218, 258.
Jesuit, 199.
Jesus, 65, 199.
Jewellery, 171.
Jews, 39, 72, 102, 176, 205, 225, 258, 278. App. G.
Judico, 18, 32, 47.
Jugglers, 196, 230.
Jum’a el Hawáfi, 69, 77.
Jupiter Tonans, 8.
K
Kaa er Remel, 8, 11, 286.
Kádi, 168, 181.
Kaïd Ali, 35, 46, 55, 64, 228, 232, 256, 279. App. B.
—— el Meshwa, 99, 111, 117, 126, 146.
—— Hadj Hamed, 135, 187.
—— Maclean, 100, 113, 128, 182, 206, 216. App. D.
—— of Artillery, 206.
—— of Habassi, 51, 61, 63, 65, 275.
Kariya ben Aouda, 49, 75.
—— el Abd-er-Rahman Shlíah, 255, 257.
—— el Habassi, 51, 75.
Kasr Fara’ún, 251.
Khalífa, 32, 139, 140, 164, 202.
Kheira, 75.
Kohl, 39, 40.
Kontra, 262, 273.
Koran, 20, 56, 125, 143, 145, 157, 168, 276.
Kúbba, 44, 76.
Kuskussú, 54, 131, 137.
Kutubia, 269.
L
Lá bás, 113, 208.
Lab-el-barôd, 21, 72, 92, 112.
Lawless, Hon. D., 3, 60, 134, 141, 175, 247, 259, 286.
Leared, Dr., 248.
Lemprière’s “Tour to Morocco,” 184, 239.
Lentisk, 28, 280.
Leo Africanus, 33, 54, 77, 173, 211, 250, 260. App. C.
Lex talionis, 186, 285.
Lions, 32, 57.
Livy, 223.
Lixus, 45, 278, 280.
Lunatics, 37, 211, 217, 218, 244.
M
Macpherson, Colonel, 9.
Má hia, 206.
Mahmora, 272.
Mamora, forest of, 261, 262, 264, 273, 290.
Marhaba bík, 126, 287.
Markets, 14, 77.
Marocco, defences of, 233, 234.
—— diseases of, 138. App. C.
—— drama of, 197.
—— fleet of, 279.
—— relations of England with, 47, 114.
Matamors, 27, 49.
“Maurétanie Tingitane,” 41, 268, 274.
Mazagan. App. G.
Mehdía, 62, 263, 272, 273.
Melha, 176, 178, 205.
Mequinez, 237.
Meshráa el Háder, 277.
—— el Sejra, 11.
Mignonette, 18.
Mikkès, 92, 232, 290.
Mission, members of, 3.
—— political results of, 224, 292.
—— reception of, at court, 114.
Mogador, 224, 293.
Mona, 23, 51, 80, 280.
Moorish arch, 149, 171.
—— butter, 51.
—— manners, 55, 107, 191, 214.
—— Sabbath, 49.
—— stomachs, 54.
—— superstition, 19, 48, 65, 159, 224.
—— tea, 53, 88, 90, 111, 146.
Moral precepts, 56, 185.
Mosques, 109, 172, 223, 242.
Mulai Edris, 95, 109, 172, 246, 252, 253.
Murders, 179, 181, 285.
Musicians, 38, 100, 115, 153.
Mzorah, 21.
N
Náam Sídi, 227.
Náhum, Mr., 148, 173, 204, 205, 220, 275.
Norton, 32, 220, 262, 280, 285.
Nzala, or guardhouse, 13, 232.
O
Oliphant, Mr. Laurence, 203.
Oppidum Novum, 45.
Otis tarda, 263.
P
Panther, 193.
Passage of Wad el Kús, 45, 279.
—— of Wad el Sebú, 63, 273.
Philology, 290.
Phonograph, 141.
Photographs, 20, 60, 143, 289.
Pirates, 4, 266.
Plains, 36, 57, 71, 256.
Pliny, 266.
Poison, 53, 126, 129.
Polybius, 226.
Portuguese, 3, 17, 41, 44, 273, 281.
Pory, Master John, 33.
Powder-play, 21, 22, 68, 259.
Prehistoric remains, 20, 21.
Presents, 2, 121, 220.
Prime Minister, 106, 127, 221.
Prison, 31, 242.
Prophet, the, 20, 32, 37, 56, 132, 143, 156, 186. App. G.
Protection, evils of, 14, 59, 178, 282.
—— methods of claiming, 36, 59, 215, 216.
Ptolemy, 61, 251.
Purchas’s Pilgrims, 125.
Q
Queen, H.M. the, 62, 118, 120.
Queen’s, H.M. the, letter to the Sultan, 118.
Q. Cæcilius Domitianus, 248.
R
Rabât, 257, 265, 267.
Rahmah, 275.
Ramadán, feast of, 198.
Râs ed Dúra, 274, 275.
Renegades, 21, 217, 267.
Reception at Court, 114.
Rif, the, 13, 280.
River; _see_ “Wad.”
Rohlfs, Dr. Gerhard, 21, 223, 227, 276, 289.
S
Sacrifice, 36, 59.
Saints, 37, 164, 204, 218, 244, 269.
Sala, 266.
Sala Colonia, 268, 272.
Sallust, 255.
Scorpions, 32.
Scylax, 272.
Sebt, 280.
Second sight, 159.
Selám Hajút, 33, 130.
Sharíf, 18, 28.
Sharífian, 144, 224. App. G.
Shaw’s “Travels in Barbary,” 102, 255.
Shella, 251, 268.
Sherarda, 71, 80, 257.
Síd Abd-er-Rahman ben Drís, 274.
—— Ahmed ben Ali, 19.
—— Búbakr, 73, 84, 97, 132, 141, 144, 189, 195, 197, 214, 221, 227,
271.
—— Drís ben Abd-el-Wáhad, 163, 191, 232, 235, 239, 293.
—— el Yemáni, 19, 26, 280.
—— Hamed ben Músa, 132, 141, 158, 193.
—— Hamed ben Mansor, 274.
—— Muhammed Bargash, 225.
—— Muhammed ben el Kheir, 273, 274.
—— Muhammed ben Moktsar, 127.
—— Muhammed Gavass, 163, 191, 210, 232, 239.
—— Músa, 54, 107, 159.
Sídi Adab, 254.
Sídna, 215, 221, 227.
Skeerresh, 164.
“Sketches in Spain and Morocco,” 20.
Sla, 265.
Slaves, 135, 151, 153, 161, 167.
Slave-market, 132, 166.
Snake-charmer, 174, 179.
Sôk, 14, 132, 166, 173.
—— Kotáma, 41.
Soudan, 167, 208, 239.
Soueir, 277.
Standard-bearer, 9, 12, 19, 280.
Stewart, Commodore, 170.
Strabo, 291.
Student-Sultan, 187, 206.
Sultan Abd-el-Moumen, 272.
—— Mulai Abd-er-Rahman, 145, 277.
—— Mulai Hassan, 1, 49, 116, 141, 145, 160, 183, 192, 213, 229. App. F.
—— Mulai Ismael, 170, 195, 239, 240, 277.
—— Mulai Zidan, 266.
—— Sídi Muhammed, 144, 145, 184, 186.
—— Yacúb el Mansor, 40, 41, 267, 268, 269.
Summer palace, 194, 230.
Surgery, 125, 137.
T
Tálib, 285.
Tangier, 3, 188, 287.
Tapia, 135.
Telephone, 2, 122, 133, 139, 192.
Tents, 2, 83.
Thunder-storm, 58.
Tissot, Mons. C., 41, 45, 66, 75, 247, 248.
Tocolosida, 251.
Tortoise, 47.
Tossing, 241.
Tower of Hassan, 265, 269.
Troglodytes, 73.
Tweedledee, 39, 60, 132, 148, 166, 169, 208, 286.
Tweedledum, 39, 121.
Tyranny of foreigners, 25, 60, 79.
U
Udaiah, 263, 273.
Usury, 128.
V
Volubilis, 246–252. App. H.
W
Wad el Aïsha, 19, 285.
—— el Beht, 257, 258.
—— el Búraghrag, 265.
—— el Dráder, 277.
—— el Fas, 95, 123.
—— el Kharrúb, 285.
—— el Khúman or Fara’ún, 247.
—— el Kús, 44, 45, 278.
—— el Machassan, 35, 41.
—— el Mharhar, 11, 13.
—— el Nedja, 232.
—— el Rdem, 256, 257.
—— el Sebú, 61, 62, 164, 251, 263, 273.
—— el Soueir, 277.
Waterloo, 62, 208.
Wazan, 21, 287.
White, Mr. Herbert, 50, 142, 187, 216, 247.
Wild boar, 13, 30.
Wild flowers, 18, 254, 259.
Will, Surgeon Major, 2, 55, 84, 137, 141, 148, 226, 286.
Windhus’s “Journey to Mequinez,” 41, 72, 170, 205, 240, 247, 249.
Z
Zarhún, 172, 246, 249.
Zeggota, 83.
Zemmúr, 257, 261, 267, 290.
Zilia, 281.
Zouche, Lord, 6, 16, 141, 164, 205, 226, 231, 237, 285.
_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh_.
[Illustration: ‘MAP]
ERRATA.
Page 36, line 19, _for_ “eight” _read_ “twelve.”
„ 37, „ 1, _for_ “ten” _read_ “fifteen.”
„ 50, „ 12, _for_ “Sebú” _read_ “Méda.”
„ 133, „ 26, _for_ “Frigeiahs” _read_ “Freigíahs.”
ENDNOTES.
Footnote 1:
“Naval demonstration” had not become a household word at the time I
wrote the above.
Footnote 2:
I subsequently heard that part of the messages, though in a very
mutilated form, had been made out by the intelligent signal-master at
that place.
Footnote 3:
Chief, or commander, is the nearest equivalent we have to Kaïd.
Footnote 4:
Meshráa, or meshra’t, is a ford.
Footnote 5:
This piece of information turned out to be as false as is most of what
one derives, except from ocular demonstration, in this country.
Footnote 6:
This same “perpetual surf” on the west coast of Africa I found out to
be a myth, as on our return march by the coast there were several calm
days on which the Atlantic comported itself like any other sea.
Footnote 7:
Dshar, a village built of stone, as opposed to the Dúar, or Arab
encampment.
Footnote 8:
“Sketches in Spain and Morocco.” London, 1831.
Footnote 9:
Lab el Barôd, or Powder Play, a national Moorish pastime.
Footnote 10:
_Vide_ page 79.
Footnote 11:
See Appendix A.
Footnote 12:
In justice to Boomgheis I must mention that he was honourably
acquitted.
Footnote 13:
“Lieutenant,” or “right hand man.”
Footnote 14:
“A Geographical Historie of Africa.” Translated from the Arabicke and
Italian by Master John Pory. 4^o London, 1600.
Footnote 15:
“Maurétanie Tingitane,” par M. Tissot. Paris, 1877.
Footnote 16:
“Journey to Mequinez.” London, 1725.
Footnote 17:
Kubba, literally a vault; the cupola-shaped tomb erected over the
remains of saints in Marocco.
Footnote 18:
_Itinéraire de Tanger à Rbat’_, par C. Tissot. Paris, 1876.
Footnote 19:
On our return to Tangier his adversary presented the kaïd with a set
of chessmen, for his acknowledgment of which see Appendix B.
Footnote 20:
See page 35.
Footnote 21:
“Boke of the Governoure,” by Sir Henry Elyot.
Footnote 22:
In the name of God.
Footnote 23:
“Itinéraire de Tanger à Rbat’.” Par C. Tissot; Paris, 1876.
Footnote 24:
_’Askár_, Regular Infantry.
Footnote 25:
Síd house or Kúbba. See note, p. 44.
Footnote 26:
Windhus’ “Journey to Mequinez.” London, 1725.
Footnote 27:
Public notary.
Footnote 28:
“Brebber,” or indigenous; a term analogous to “Berber.”
Footnote 29:
Long tunic-shaped garment.
Footnote 30:
See page 33.
Footnote 31:
People of Fez—or Fuss, as they pronounce it.
Footnote 32:
See page 239.
Footnote 33:
Shaw’s “Travels in Barbary.” 1738.
Footnote 34:
Milman’s “History of the Jews.” London, 1830.
Footnote 35:
Purchas’s “Pilgrims.” London, 1600.
Footnote 36:
“Welcome to you.”
Footnote 37:
See page 54.
Footnote 38:
See Appendix C.
Footnote 39:
The Empire of Marocco is so described in all official documents, &c.
Footnote 40:
“Eyebrow,” or Chief of the Household.
Footnote 41:
I see by a Blue-book since published on the Madrid Conference, the
youth’s name is spelt “Skeerresh,” so we were not far wrong.
Footnote 42:
Of the slave-_trade_ nothing can be said in extenuation.
Footnote 43:
Wicked, improper.
Footnote 44:
Jamieson’s “Scottish Dictionary,” 1808.
Footnote 45:
See page 249.
Footnote 46:
“Historie of Africa,” by Leo a More. London, 1600.
Footnote 47:
Purchas’s “Pilgrims,” vol. ii. London, 1600.
Footnote 48:
Chief judge in a town or district.
Footnote 49:
Lemprière’s “Tour to Morocco in 1789.”
Footnote 50:
See Appendix D.
Footnote 51:
See page 16.
Footnote 52:
See page 163.
Footnote 53:
“Gli Aissaòua; reminiscenze d’Algeria.” Di Giacinto Fossati-Reyneri.
Roma. 1880.
Footnote 54:
It is interesting to compare with all this the far more graphic
account given in Mr. Laurence Oliphant’s recent work, “The Land of
Gilead,” of the performances of the sect of the “Bedawa,” and their
somewhat similar origin.
Footnote 55:
Literally “eau de vie,” or “water of life.”
Footnote 56:
Very good; literally “there is no evil.”
Footnote 57:
Natives from the Soudan. See page 239.
Footnote 58:
His title at Court signifying “Superintendent.”
Footnote 59:
See Appendix E.
Footnote 60:
“Eyebrow.”
Footnote 61:
General term for soldiers, particularly infantry.
Footnote 62:
“Our Lord.”
Footnote 63:
The Jewesses are great manufacturers of cakes and pastry.
Footnote 64:
It is not an uncommon device of designing foreigners, who wish to
approach the person of the Sultan, to describe themselves as above, as
His Majesty’s predilection for the English is well known.
Footnote 65:
“Mountaineer;” see p. 119.
Footnote 66:
God willing.
Footnote 67:
See Appendix F.
Footnote 68:
Rohlfs’ “Adventures in Morocco.”
Footnote 69:
For specimen of a Sharífian letter, see Appendix G.
Footnote 70:
An equivalent to the “Anon, anon, sir,” of the Drawer Francis, in
Shakespeare’s Henry IV.
Footnote 71:
“Our Lord.”
Footnote 72:
“Revue des deux Mondes, 1859.”
Footnote 73:
See page 173.
Footnote 74:
Unlawful.
Footnote 75:
He reigned from 1672 to about 1728.
Footnote 76:
Windhus’s “Journey to Mequinez,” 1721.
Footnote 77:
Windhus’s “Journey to Mequinez.” London, 1725.
Footnote 78:
See Appendix H.
Footnote 79:
“Ædificia Numidarum ... incurvis lateribus tecta quasi _navium carinæ_
essent.” Sallustii “Bellum Jugurth.” para. 21.
Footnote 80:
Native dagger.
Footnote 81:
“Johannis Leonis Africani Africæ descriptio, apud Elzivir. Lugduni
Batavorum, 1632.”
Footnote 82:
Forward!
Footnote 83:
Lemprière’s “Tour to Marocco,” 1793.
Footnote 84:
“Maurétanie Tingitane.” Tissot.
Footnote 85:
“Maurétanie Tingitane,” 1877.
Footnote 86:
See page 177.
Footnote 87:
Since the above was written the Madrid Conference has closed, without,
I regret to say, having rectified any of the abuses here described.
Footnote 88:
Tent-pitchers.
Footnote 89:
Scribe; literally, one who seeks (after learning).
Footnote 90:
See page 239.
Footnote 91:
“Johannis Leonis Africani Africæ descriptio, ix. lib. absoluta.
Lugduni Batavoram, apud Elzevir. A^ọ 1632.”
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