THE ACCESSION OF THE NEW SULTAN OF MOROCCO.
A book dealing as this does, not only with my own travels, but
also with the presence of the Sultan of Morocco at Tafilet, would
not be complete, as already stated, were it not carried on for the
space of the few months which succeeded that journey. For although
the narration of my adventures in the regions south of the Atlas
Mountains is already terminated, I was present during not a little
of what I am now going to describe, the affairs that took place in
June or July, when Mulai el Hassen was no more, and Mulai Abdul Aziz
had succeeded to the throne. In order to render clear what follows,
a few words in recapitulation must be said as to the Sultan’s
journey to the desert.
We have seen that in 1893 Mulai el Hassen led his summer expedition
from Fez to Tafilet, and thence returned to Marakesh, crossing
the Atlas Mountains in the middle of winter. The journey in every
particular was a dangerous and trying one. Such wild tribes as
the Beni Mgild and Aït Yussi had to be passed through, and when
safely traversed the Sultan found himself in the desert surrounded
by the most ferocious of the Berber tribes, who had to be appeased
with presents of money and clothes. Although, as a matter of fact,
no opposition was put to his progress, he must necessarily have been
during the whole expedition in a state of great anxiety, for had the
Berbers amalgamated to destroy him and his vast army, they could
have done so with the greatest ease. Food was only procurable in
small quantities; barley in the camp reached a price that rendered
it unprocurable except by the richer classes; while added to this
the summer heat in the Sahara caused havoc among the soldiers.
Tafilet was reached in October, and a halt of three weeks made
there. It is needless here to enter into any details, for I
have already described the camp; suffice it to say that Mulai el
Hassen’s camp was pitched on the desert sand near a spot called
Dar el baida, to the east of the oasis of Tafilet, and that he
was surrounded by an army and camp-followers numbering probably
40,000 men. I saw the Sultan several times during his residence in
the camp, and was struck with the remarkable change that had taken
place in his appearance. His bearing was as dignified as ever, but
his black beard was streaked with grey, his complexion was sallow,
and the lines of age showed themselves under his eyes. For over two
years previously I had not seen him, and when last I had watched
him he was still a young-looking man: now old age had set its
indelible mark upon his countenance. The fire of his eye was gone;
his head drooped slightly upon his chest; he looked like a man tired
and weary. No doubt he was. Anxiety was always present. News had
reached him that fighting, and most serious fighting, was occurring
between the Spaniards and the Riff tribes at Melilla; there was
a constant fear of assassination, and a still more constant dread
of his whole camp being eaten up by the Berbers. Added to this his
health was ailing, and winter fast coming on. Affairs delayed him
at Tafilet, and before he left that spot at the end of November,
although during the day the sun still beat down with almost tropical
heat, rendering life in a tent insufferable, by night the cold was
extreme, and frosts of almost nightly occurrence. Before the army
lay a three weeks’ march to Marakesh, over desert and mountain,
through wild tribes where dangers were many and food scarce. What
wonder that Mulai el Hassen suffered! Yet the worst trials were
before him after he left Tafilet: as he approached the Glawi Pass
over the Atlas—the lowest there is, and that at an altitude of
over 8000 feet above the sea-level—the cold increased, soldiers,
mules, horses, and camels died of exposure. Snow fell and covered
the camp, and only by forced marches were the remnants of the great
horde dragged out from the deathly grip of the rocks and snows of
the Atlas Mountains to the plains below.
I saw Mulai el Hassen and his army enter Marakesh, for I had
returned thither a few days before them. What was noticeable at
Tafilet was doubly apparent now. The Sultan had become an old
man. Travel-stained and weary, he rode his great white horse with
its mockery of green-and-gold trappings, while over a head that
was the picture of suffering waved the imperial umbrella of crimson
velvet. Following him straggled into the city a horde of half-starved
men and animals, trying to be happy that at last their terrible
journey was at an end, but too ill and too hungry to succeed.
Mulai el Hassen found no peace at Marakesh. Affairs at Melilla had
become strained, and no sooner had his Majesty reached the capital
than a Spanish Embassy under General Martinez Campos proceeded
thither. How it ended is well known. It added to the enormous
expenses of the Sultan’s summer expedition—which must have cost
him nearly a million sterling—a debt to the Spanish Government of
twenty million pesetas, at the same time necessitating the Sultan to
abandon his idea of remaining in his southern capital, and forcing
upon him a long march to Rabat and Fez, and an intended expedition
to the Riff to punish the tribes who had caused the disturbance
there. Fez was never reached, the expedition never took place,
and Mulai el Hassen’s entry into Rabat was in a coffin at the
dead of night.
Having thus briefly recapitulated the events preceding the Sultan’s
death, reference must now be made to those who played important
parts, for better or for worse, in the days that followed.
With regard to the succession to the throne of Morocco, no regular
custom or law exists. While the new Sultan must be a relation of
the late one, he need not necessarily be a son, but is appointed by
his predecessor, and if approved of, acknowledged by those in whose
power the making of Sultans lies,—that is to say, by the Viziers
and powerful Shereefs. Should the Sultan name no successor, it is
these who choose the man they may think suitable to fill the post.
Of the great Shereefian families of Morocco that of Mulai el
Hassen is not the most important, for the founder of his dynasty,
rising in Tafilet, seized the power from the more holy and reverend
family of the direct descendants of Mulai Idris, the founder of
the Moorish empire, who was the son of Abdullah el Kamil, himself
a grandson of Hassan, who with Huseyn was the son of Fatima,
Mohammed’s daughter. While the Fileli dynasty to-day holds the
throne, the reverence paid to the Fileli Shereefs is not to be
compared with that bestowed upon Mulai Idris I. and II., one of
whom lies buried in the town bearing his name in Zarahun near Fez,
while the second is patron saint of the northern capital itself,
where he lies interred in a gorgeous tomb.
Again, the family of the Shereefs of Wazan obtains far greater
respect than that of the Sultan, and the tombs of Mulai Abdullah
Shereef and Sid el Haj el Arbi are places of daily pilgrimages. In
order, therefore, to obtain the succession to the throne of a new
Sultan, the aid and influence of both the Shereefs of Mulai Idris
and Wazan have to be brought to bear upon the question, as should
either party refuse to acknowledge the candidate, so powerful are
their followings that it is quite possible, more than probable,
that a civil war would be the result. That a Shereef of Wazan
could come to the throne is practically impossible. The two heads
of the family, sons of the late Grand Shereef, are French protected
subjects; while what affects still more the native population is the
existence of an ancient proverb which states that no Wazan Shereef
can rule as Sultan, but that no Sultan can rule without the support
of the Wazan Shereef. It is, in fact, a defensive alliance between
the two great families.
Not so, however, with the Shereefs of Mulai Idris, who reside almost
entirely in Fez, and whose influence there is very great. That a
Drisite Shereef would have been ready to ascend the throne were
it offered to him is only too probable, but fortunately it was not
offered. In spite of their immense sanctity, the old adage that a
prophet hath no honour in his own country holds good in Fez, where
amongst the city-people they are considered as little above ordinary
mortals. All their influence, and it is very extensive, lies amongst
strangers and in the country districts, where being seldom seen or
heard, all kinds of romance as to their marvellous powers are rife.
Therefore it will be seen that, powerful as are the families of
Wazan and Mulai Idris, it was practically out of the question,
unless civil war broke out, that a member of either should be put
up as candidate for the throne. And had such an event happened,
want of funds would have no doubt crushed the rebellion before any
very serious results would have occurred. There remained, then,
only the members of the late Sultan’s family who could succeed. Of
these, four had always been considered as likely candidates. First,
Mulai Ismain, a brother of Mulai el Hassen, who for a long time
was Viceroy in Fez. He is a man past middle age, of a quiet gentle
manner, fanatical, and given to literary pursuits, and, while
possessing very considerable influence, and still more popularity,
is by no means a man to push himself forward—in fact, it was
always said, on the best authority, that he had no desire whatever
of succeeding to the throne. Certainly Mulai Ismain seemed the most
probable successor to his brother, though every year lessened the
likelihood of this by adding years to the age of the Sultan’s
favourite son, Mulai Abdul Aziz, the present Sultan. Although it
was known that this boy was being trained by Mulai el Hassen, so
that in the event of his own death he might come to the throne, his
extreme youth for a time rendered it exceedingly improbable that he
could succeed; and had Mulai el Hassen’s death taken place only a
year or two earlier, Mulai Abdul Aziz, instead of becoming Sultan,
would have been merely an obstacle to whoever had succeeded—an
obstacle that most likely would have been removed by assassination
or secret murder. Fortunately, Mulai el Hassen lived sufficiently
long to see his favourite son reach the age of sixteen—for all
reports as to his being then only twelve are false. So great was his
father’s desire that he should succeed, that during his lifetime
he endowed his son with very considerable wealth and property, and
towards the end of his life, since his return from Tafilet, made
it clearly apparent what was his desire in the event of his death,
by bestowing on him nearly all the prerogatives of the Sultanate.
Mulai Abdul Aziz is the son of a Circassian wife of Mulai el Hassen,
a lady of great intelligence and remarkable ability, who, though no
longer in her first youth, was able to maintain to the day of his
death a most singular and no doubt beneficial influence over Mulai
el Hassen. Her European extraction and her education abroad, her
general knowledge of the world, and her opportunities for watching
the Court intrigues, rendered her of more service to the late Sultan
than any of his Viziers. She accompanied him always upon his long and
tedious marches, and there can be no doubt that even in his dealings
with the European Powers her advice was always asked and generally
taken by the Sultan. The affection Mulai el Hassen bestowed upon her
was also shared by her son, Mulai Abdul Aziz, who, with the tender
anxiety of both an affectionate father and mother, was brought up
in a far more satisfactory manner than is general with the sons of
Moorish potentates. While his elder brothers, of whom more anon,
were left to run wild and to lead lives of cruelty and vice, Abdul
Aziz was the constant companion of his parents, who, both intent
that he should one day be Sultan of Morocco, lost no opportunity
of educating him, to the best of their abilities, to fill the post.
The other candidates who may be said to have had a chance of
succeeding to the throne were Mulai Mohammed, the late Sultan’s
eldest son, by a slave wife, who has held the post of Viceroy
in Morocco City for a considerable time, and whose vicious life
has estranged him from the affections of the people. This is
the “one-eyed decapitator” of whom the papers were so fond
of speaking during the recent crisis. Really the Englishman who
invented the name deserves popularity to the same extent as he gave
publicity to his brilliant imagination, for the complimentary title
is of purely English invention. Unfortunately Mulai Mohammed never
possessed the power of decapitating any one, and had he ventured
to have done so, would have long ago been securely confined in
prison. Vicious and immoral he was to an extent that surpasses
description, but beyond this his sins were no greater than those
of the ordinary Moorish official. At times he was most lavish and
generous—often with other people’s money; and although his
open immorality estranged him from any affection on the part of the
people, he still possessed a certain amount of popularity from his
exceedingly unprincely condescension. On the whole, Mulai Mohammed
is a very undesirable young man; but even his lax morality scarcely
merits the outpourings of hatred and contempt that have been heaped
upon him by the English press.
The remaining possible candidate to the throne was Mulai el Amin,
another brother of the late Sultan, a pleasant, middle-aged man,
who would scarcely have been capable of the amount of dignity
necessitated by the position, as he possessed a temperament too
affable and condescending.
It will be seen, therefore, that not only was Mulai Abdul Aziz his
father’s candidate, but that by his training and bringing up, in
spite of his youth, he was by far the most likely to perform with
any degree of success the arduous duties of the position. Again,
his father and mother’s care had kept him free from the immoral
life usually led by boys of his age, and he came to the throne
untainted by the vices of the country.
But one point more remains to be touched upon before referring to
the events that have absolutely been taking place since the late
Sultan’s death early in June 1894—namely, a few words as to the
Viziers and officials by which his Shereefian Majesty was surrounded.
The only members of the Moorish Government who enjoyed access to
the person of their Sultan were some half-a-dozen Viziers, through
whom the entire business of the country was carried on. These were
respectively the Grand Vizier, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, the
Lord Chamberlain, another Vizier answering to our Home Secretary,
the Master of the Ceremonies, and the Minister of War. With these
exceptions, no one was able to gain the confidential ear of the
Sultan; and should by any chance his Majesty listen to others, woe
betide them, whoever they might be, did they attempt in any way to
injure the position of these courtiers, who would be able, without
the information ever reaching the Sultan, to revenge themselves
as they might desire upon the man who informed his Majesty of
their evil doings. Mention need be made only of those who have
played important parts in the history of the last year. These are
respectively Sid el Haj Amaati, the Grand Vizier, Sid Mohammed
Soreir, the Minister of War, and Sid Ahmed ben Musa, the _Hajib_
or Chamberlain. Between the two former—who are brothers, and
members of the powerful Jamai family, which had already given
another Grand Vizier before Haj Amaati was appointed, namely,
Sid Mukhtar Jamai—and Sid Ahmed ben Musa, the _Hajib_, there
had always existed a rivalry and hatred only to be found amongst
oriental peoples. Sid Ahmed himself is the son of a Grand Vizier,
the late Sid Musa, who for many years was the able and trusted
adviser of the Sultans Sidi Mohammed and Mulai el Hassen.
While the Jamai brothers prided themselves on their great and
powerful family, they scoffed at Sid Musa and his family as upstarts,
for his father was a slave. But to such an extent did Mulai el Hassen
bestow his confidence on both the Grand Vizier and the _Hajib_, that
they were scarcely able to do one another harm in his Majesty’s
eyes. Haj Amaati had risen suddenly to his post, and his success
with the Sultan no doubt caused much envy and hatred in the heart
of Sid Ahmed. Two years ago Haj Amaati, on the resignation of the
F’ki Sinhaji, became Grand Vizier, though at that time probably
not more than thirty years of age. His elder brother had for a
long time held the powerful and lucrative post of Minister of War,
and with his support to back him, Haj Amaati commenced a career of
amassing wealth by every possible means.
The power and influence possessed by a Grand Vizier in Morocco is
almost incredible. Every official in the whole country is under him;
no one can communicate with the Sultan except through him. In his
hands lie the disposal of the various governorships—one should
say the sale of the various governorships—and the dismissal of
all officials. In the hands of an unscrupulous man there is every
opportunity of “black-mail,” and of this Haj Amaati took an
advantage unparalleled in Moorish history. He robbed the Sultan and
bought and sold appointments, and in the two years that he was Grand
Vizier he amassed, in addition to his already considerable fortune,
a sum of nearly £150,000! That is to say, he managed to ensure for
himself, and entirely by illicit means, an income of no less than
about £70,000 a-year, and this in an open and unblushing manner. So
certain was he of his position and influence that, soon after the
Sultan’s arrival at Morocco City on his return from Tafilet, he
attempted to oust from favour Sid Ahmed, the Chamberlain, who, of all
the Court, was on the most intimate terms with, and the most trusted
servant of, the Sultan. For a time he was successful: Sid Ahmed lost
favour, and it seemed that his dismissal was certain. Shortly before
Mulai el Hassen left Morocco City he was, however, reinstated in
his Majesty’s regard; and by the manner in which Mulai el Hassen
appeared to leave nearly everything in his hands, there is little
doubt that he repented of having distrusted him at all. This incident
increased the hatred between Haj Amaati and Sid Ahmed, and even had
the late Sultan lived, one or other would have been obliged to go, as
affairs at Court became too strained to continue in that condition.
[Illustration: STREET LEADING TO THE SULTAN’S PALACE, MOROCCO CITY:
A SECRETARY OF THE FOREIGN OFFICE GOING TO COURT.]
The late Sultan left Marakesh in May, accompanied by his whole Court,
his army, and the governors of southern Morocco and their troops,
in order to punish certain revolutionary tribes in the district of
Tedla, to the north-east of Marakesh: thence it was his Majesty’s
intention to proceed to Rabat, where the northern army was to
join him, and the entire forces were to pass on to Meknas and Fez,
punishing _en route_ the tribes of Zimour and Beni Hassen, whose
depredations and fighting had caused his Majesty very considerable
anxiety ever since his departure from Fez, a year previous.
Mulai el Hassen was ill when he left the southern capital. The
anxiety, the heat of the desert, and the intense cold on his journey
to and from Tafilet, had weakened a constitution already impaired
by an affection of the liver and kidneys. Those who accompanied him
on his departure from Morocco City tell how the life and vigour
had seemed to have left him. His parting with Mulai Abdul Aziz,
who had left the capital previous to his father, proceeding to
Rabat, was said to have been a most touching one, and his favourite
son rode out of the capital with all the pomp and paraphernalia
of a Sultan. No doubt it was purposely done by Mulai el Hassen,
who seems to have felt his end approaching, and considered this
the most subtle means of exhibiting to his people his desire that
Abdul Aziz should succeed him.
By slow marches, necessitated by the immense number of men and
animals accompanying him, the Sultan reached the district of Tedla,
and there fell ill.
At daybreak it was the custom of Mulai el Hassen, as already
mentioned, to leave the enclosure of canvas in which his tents
were pitched and proceed on foot to his office-tent, where he would
transact business until generally about nine or ten o’clock, when
he would retire within, not appearing again until the cool of the
afternoon. For several days after the arrival of the camp in the
region of Tedla, at a spot called Dar bu Zeedu, a halt was called;
and although the Sultan from time to time visited his office-tent,
it was generally known that he was unwell. After the 2d of June
the Sultan did not leave his enclosure; and although the report
was general that he was seriously indisposed, reassuring messages
were given by the _Hajib_, Sid Ahmed, who had the _entrée_ to the
Sultan’s tent, and his Majesty was pronounced to be getting on
toward recovery. During the afternoon of Wednesday, June 6, Mulai el
Hassen died, Sid Ahmed alone being present, the man who throughout
his life had been his most confidential and trusted follower. Before
his death he had spoken freely to Sid Ahmed, and had made him swear
a solemn oath to support the succession of Mulai Abdul Aziz, and
never to desert him as long as either of them lived. His Shereefian
Majesty also left papers stating his desire that his favourite son
should succeed him, and private letters to Abdul Aziz himself.
But besides the question of the succession, there were others as
momentous, if not more so, to be considered. The camp was placed
within the district of the Tedla regions, against whom the Sultan
had intended to wage war; and the fact that he was dead, and that
the camp would be left without any leader, would bring down an attack
of the tribes and the sacking of the entire camp, if not the murder
also of the Viziers and officials. Nor was the army to be trusted:
Mulai Abdul Aziz was at Rabat, still some eight days’ fast marching
distant, and in those eight days who knew what course events might
take? A hurried meeting of the Viziers was called; an oath of secrecy
taken; the drums were beaten for a start to be made; and, to every
one’s astonishment and surprise, orders were given for a move,
the reason affirmed being that the Sultan had sufficiently recovered
to travel. The palanquin which always accompanied his Majesty was
taken into the enclosure; the Sultan’s body was placed within,
the doors closed, and, amidst the obeisances and acclamations of
the camp, all that remained of Mulai el Hassen set out for Rabat.
Not a soul knew of the Sultan’s death except the Viziers and
a few of the slaves and tent-pitchers, whose mouths were sealed,
knowing that death would ensue if they told.
The river Um er-Ribia was crossed, and a halt called on its
right bank, near a spot known as the Brouj Beni Miskin. Meanwhile
messengers had been secretly sent to Rabat to announce the Sultan’s
death and the accession of Mulai Abdul Aziz, to support whom the
Viziers had all sworn.
The following day an early start was made, the dead Sultan still
being carried in the usual position, with the flags and insignia of
the Sultanate preceding him. As they passed along, the tribes-people
are said to have kissed the palanquin, and one or two people of
importance to have been allowed to see the Sultan within, whose
ill-health was given as an excuse for his not speaking.
At the middle of the day a halt was called for his Majesty to take
breakfast, a tent pitched, the palanquin carried within, and food
and green tea cooked, taken into the tent, and brought out again
as if it had been tasted by the Sultan.
As yet no one knew besides the Viziers and the handful of slaves
that Mulai el Hassen was dead. The military band played outside his
tent, and all the usual customs which were carried out when he lived
were continued. But in a hot climate like that of Morocco in June
a secret of this sort cannot be long kept, and on their arrival
in camp, after a ten hours’ march, on Thursday, June 7, it was
announced that the Sultan was dead, and that messengers had left
the day before for the capitals, announcing the accession of Mulai
Abdul Aziz. The proclamation called upon the people and soldiers
to follow the desire of their deceased master, and to support the
Viziers in their intention of seeing Mulai Abdul Aziz succeed.
The news fell like a thunderbolt upon the camp. It was true that by
the concealment of the Sultan’s death they had escaped from Tedla;
but there still remained dangers almost equally as great. Would not
the tribes of Shauia, through which they had yet to pass _en route_
to Rabat, pillage the camp, for there was plenty to loot there? And
even if they refrained from doing so, could the horde of ill-fed,
ill-clothed, and ill-paid soldiers be trusted?
The camp split up into a hundred parties, each distrustful of
the other, though all intent upon one object, a retreat to the
coast. Each tribe represented in the camp collected its forces, and
marched in a band together and camped together, not fearing so much
any general outbreak as an attack on the part of members of some
other tribe, between whom there may have been some long-standing
feud, only prevented by fear of the Sultan from bursting into
warfare.
By forced marches the camp and the army proceeded to Rabat,
constantly hampered by the surrounding tribes, who, too timid to
attack so large a force, contented themselves and satisfied their
love of plunder by cutting off and robbing every straggler who
happened to lag behind. The poor soldiers they killed for their
rifles, and, if they possessed none, out of pure devilry. Many of
the troops took advantage of the lack of order and government to
run away and return to their homes—whence they had been taken
by a systemless conscription to starve in the Sultan’s service,
or gain a precarious livelihood by theft.
Meanwhile Abdul Aziz had been proclaimed in Rabat, and letters were
sent in all directions announcing his accession to the throne. In
no period of modern Moorish history had there been a week of such
suspense as then ensued. The Sultan was a boy, separated from his
Ministers and Viziers by a long distance, in traversing which they
ran a great danger of being plundered and murdered. Had such an
event occurred, and Mulai Abdul Aziz’s supporters been killed,
his reign must have terminated at once, for the treasury would have
fallen into other hands, and another Sultan been proclaimed.
With all possible speed the army marched towards the coast, bearing
their now loathsome burden of the Sultan’s body with them. There
was a terrible mockery in the whole thing,—the decomposing corpse
borne in royal state with the Shereefian banners waving before it,
with the spear-bearers on either side, and the troop of mounted
bodyguard and _askars_ on foot.
On Thursday, June 14, Rabat was reached, and a halt called some
little distance outside the city. The state of the Sultan’s
body was such as to render a public funeral impossible, so in
the darkness of the night a little procession of foot-soldiers,
with only a single Shereef attending, one and all bearing lanterns,
set out. A hole was bored in the town walls,—for seldom, if ever,
is a corpse carried into the gate of a Moorish city; and surrounded
by this little band, Mulai el Hassen, Sultan of Morocco, was laid
to his last rest in the mosque covering the tomb of his ancestor,
Sidi Mohammed ben Abdullah.
At dawn, as the people bestirred themselves to witness the funeral,
it became known that all was over; and amidst the acclamations of
the populace and the sounds of the Sultan’s band, Mulai Abdul Aziz
was led forth, the great crimson-and-gold umbrella waving over him,
surrounded by his father’s Viziers, and mounted on his father’s
white horse, and proclaimed Sultan.
Those who saw the spectacle described it to me. The boy’s eyes
were filled with tears, for his love for his father was intense,
and report says that it was only by force that he was persuaded to
mount the horse and be proclaimed. A touching story was recounted
to the writer by one who witnessed the episode. On his return to
the palace the mosque where his father had been buried the previous
night was passed. Leaving the procession, Mulai Abdul Aziz proceeded
alone to the door, and, weeping copiously, dismounted and entered
to do his last homage to his father and his Sultan.
The news of the Sultan’s death had reached Casablanca on the coast
on Saturday by a mounted express, and thence two mounted men galloped
to Rabat, a distance of fifty-nine miles, in six and a half hours,
over an abominable road. A steamer was on the point of leaving that
port for Tangier, and her Britannic Majesty’s Minister received the
news shortly after 11 A.M. on Sunday morning,—a worthy record of
fast travelling. He was the first to obtain the information, and he
immediately told his colleagues of what had taken place. A special
meeting of the European Ministers was called on Monday morning,
after which the British Minister, Mr Satow, reported the information
to Sid el Haj Mohammed Torres, the Sultan’s Vizier resident at
Tangier. By mid-day on Monday the news was general in Tangier, and
anxiety was depicted on every face as to what would be the results
of so serious an occurrence. Not a few predicted a general massacre
of the Europeans, which of everything that might occur was the least
probable. It is true that the tribes around Tangier disliked their
governor, and might make some sort of attempt to assassinate him; but
their common-sense gained the better of them, and, on consideration,
they realised that any such course would in the end but mean misery
and imprisonment and even death to themselves, while by adopting an
exemplary bearing they might so gain the favour of the new Sultan
that their grievances would be heard and attended to. At the same
time they virtually threw off the jurisdiction of the Basha, each
village electing a local sheikh, who would be responsible for the
conduct of those under him. So successful was this action that, so
far from the country becoming in any way disturbed, things improved
in every manner, cattle robberies ceased, and an unusual period of
calm ensued, that spoke not a little for the credit of those to whom
it was due. The Moors have a proverb, and it is a very true one, that
safety and security can only be found in the districts where there is
no government—that is to say, where the government is a tribal one.
In talking over the crisis on that eventful Monday on which we
received the news of the Sultan’s death, one could not help
feeling at what an exceedingly opportune moment it had occurred,
as far as the general peace of the country was concerned. For two
or three years the harvests had been very bad; but this summer
had proved sufficient to repay the tribes and country-people for a
period almost of starvation, and throughout the whole country the
wheat and barley crops were magnificent. Harvesting had already
commenced, and every one was engaged in getting in the crops. To
the Moor wheat is life. The country-people eat little or nothing
else, every one grinding in his own house, or tent, as the case
may be, his own flour. To lose the crops would mean famine, and
the Moor knows what famine means. At all costs, at all hazards, the
outstanding crops must be got in—Sultan or no Sultan. So instead
of taking up their arms to pay off old scores and to commence new
ones, the peasant went forth on his errand of peace and gathered
in his harvest. “The Sultan was dead,” they said, “and his
son had been proclaimed: everything was ordained by God—but the
harvest must be got in.” Had Mulai el Hassen’s decease occurred
at any other period than that at which it did, months of bloodshed
and plundering would have been the result.
In spite of the opinion of most people, I was firmly convinced that,
for the present at least, no serious incidents would occur. So strong
was my conviction, that on Tuesday morning I left Tangier for Fez,
accompanied by a Moorish youth, myself in Moorish clothes. We
were both mounted on good horses, and hampered ourselves with
absolutely no baggage of any sort. Alcazar was reached the following
morning. The town was in a state of considerable alarm; most of
the Jews had already fled to Laraiche, and the officials were half
expecting an attack on the part of the mountaineers. The following
morning, that of the _Eid el Kebir_, the great feast of the Moorish
year, I reached Wazan, where, at all events, I should learn from
an authoritative source as to what was likely to occur. I found
there that the news of the Sultan’s death was already known,
while I was able to confirm that of Mulai Abdul Aziz’s accession.
It must be remembered how important a part Wazan and its Shereefs
play in Moorish politics. That the Great Shereef of Wazan should
fail to acknowledge the accession of a Sultan would mean that 100,000
of their followers would do the same, and that all the mountaineers
to the north-east of Morocco would rise in a body.
I was received as an old friend by the Shereef, in whose house I
once lived for eight months, and was present at the afternoon court,
at which, being the _Eid el Kebir_, or great feast, all the Shereefs
were present, together with the principal men of the town. The scene
was a most picturesque one: the gaily decorated room, leading by an
arcade of Moorish arches into a garden, one mass of flowering-shrubs,
amongst which a fountain played with soft gurgling sound—the
large group of Shereefs in holiday attire of soft white wool and
silk, the great silver trays and incense-burners, and long-necked
scent-bottles,—all formed an ideal picture of oriental life. The
one topic of conversation was what had taken place, the Sultan’s
death, and the accession of Mulai Abdul Aziz. It was, in fact,
a sort of council of war or peace—happily the latter; and as we
drank green tea, flavoured with mint and verbena, out of delicate
little cups, the Shereef made his public declaration of adherence
to Mulai Abdul Aziz,—a few words uttered in the expressionless
way that Moors of high degree affect, words simple in themselves,
but meaning perhaps his life and his throne to Mulai Abdul Aziz.
Throughout the whole crisis the action of the Shereefs of Wazan is
highly to be commended. Their every endeavour was to ensure peace
and tranquillity, and in this the Moorish Government owes a debt
that it will be difficult ever to pay to Mulai el Arbi and his
brother Mulai Mohammed.
This is not the place to talk of the charms of Wazan, but as I left
the little city, nestled in groves of olives and oranges, early the
next morning, it was with a feeling of regret that I could not stay
longer; but I wanted to be in Fez. If anything occurred, it would
be there. So I pushed on with my journey, and after a thirteen
hours’ ride under a hot sun, put up for the night at a village
overlooking the river Sebu. Here bad news met us: the neighbouring
tribes of Mjat, who are Berbers, Hejawa, and Sherarda, were up in
arms, with the intention of taking advantage of the opportunity
to wipe out old scores. Already a small skirmish had taken place,
and the morrow threatened to dawn with further fighting, which would
entirely block the road to Fez, and also the road I had passed over
the day before from Wazan.
At daybreak armed bands of horsemen could be seen scouring the
country, and it was not until the afternoon that we learned that
the three tribes in question had met and decided to postpone any
hostilities until after the harvest had been gathered in. I set out
at once, and the following day before noon reached Fez in safety. So
insecure were the roads reported to be, that we met not a single
caravan _en route_, with the exception of one, whose camel-drivers
appeared to be very much more afraid of us three horsemen than we
were of them. At eleven we entered Fez—myself, a Shereef who had
accompanied me, and my native servant.
Meanwhile the new Sultan still remained at Rabat, and a time
of immense activity was passing at the Court, couriers without
number leaving daily with letters for every part of the kingdom,
announcing the accession of Abdul Aziz to the throne; and though
it was exceedingly important that his Shereefian Majesty should
proceed as quickly as possible to Fez, it was found impossible for
him to make an immediate start, so great was the press of business.
By this time Europe was being flooded with so-called information
as to what was taking place. The “one-eyed decapitator” was
reported by three daily papers of the same date to have raised a
rebellion in Morocco, to have organised an army of 20,000 men in
Fez, and to have been imprisoned at Rabat; while a most pathetic
and graphic account appeared in nearly all the London papers of
the funeral of Mulai el Hassen, at which every pomp was observed,
and at which all the members of the consular body at Rabat were
officially present! It was witnessed, the informant said, by the
entire population; whereas the funeral was secretly carried out
in the dead of night, only a few soldiers accompanying the body to
its grave.
The news of the late Sultan’s death had been received in Fez on the
evening of Tuesday, June 12, in a letter addressed to Mulai Omar, his
son, by the Viziers. The Viceroy at once imparted the news secretly
to the governor, and criers were sent throughout the town calling
the people together to hear a Shereefian letter read in the mosque
of Bu Jelud. Suspecting nothing of great importance—for this is the
ordinary custom of making known a decree—the people sauntered in.
Meanwhile Mulai Omar had caused to be drawn up the paper
acknowledging the new Sultan, and headed the list with his
own signature, the second to sign being Mulai Ismain, who had
been considered by many to be the most likely candidate to the
throne. As soon as the mosque was full, the doors were closed, and
the announcement of the Sultan’s death made known, together with
the proclamation of the accession of his son. As the letter was
concluded, the Basha of the town rose and said, “If any one has
anything to say, let him speak.” Not a word was uttered, and in
perfect silence the lawyers drew up a document to be forwarded to
Mulai Abdul Aziz announcing the readiness of Fez to accept him as
their sovereign. Intense indignation reigned amongst the audience
in the mosque. They felt that they had been tricked into giving
their consent without the opportunity of discussing the affair;
but escape was impossible, and a murmur of discontent would have
meant their going straight to prison, for the doors were closed
and a strong guard in readiness.
What was the real state of feeling in Fez it is very difficult to
say, but it is doubtful whether they would have at once accepted
Mulai Abdul Aziz had not the authorities obtained their signatures
in the manner they did. In all probability they would have bargained
with him, offering to receive him should they be free from certain
taxes—the _octroi_, for instance—for a certain length of time,
if not for ever. Of all the inhabitants of Morocco there are none
more grasping, more cowardly, and more given to intrigue, than the
people of Fez. Their meanness is proverbial, and while they give
themselves airs over everyone else’s head, they are despised and
hated by the remainder of the population. Given up to every vice,
they go about the streets covering their hands for fear of sunburn
and muttering their prayers, talking of their importance and bravery,
yet frightened by a spider or a mouse. The women of any of the other
cities of Morocco could defeat the men of Fez. However, whatever may
have been the ideas of the inhabitants of Fez as to the advisability
of the succession of Mulai Abdul Aziz, their allegiance had been
given, and there was now no drawing back.
By this time the news had spread throughout the entire country,
and Hiyaina, a neighbouring Arab tribe to Fez, came in considerable
force, some 400 horses, and commenced petty robberies just outside
the town walls. The scare amongst the effeminate Fezzis was amusing
to witness. Trade became at a standstill, and they secured themselves
within their houses under lock and key, leaving the authorities and
the strangers in the city to settle with the wild tribesmen. However,
the affair came to nought in the end; for the very Arabs who had come
with a possible idea of looting Fez were bribed into the Government
service to keep the roads open for caravans—a most important
point, as scarcely any wheat or barley existed in the capital,
and any lengthened delay in the arrival of the grain-bearing camels
from the country would mean famine and revolution.
On Wednesday, June 20, a deputation left Fez for Rabat to bear
an address of welcome to the Sultan, a document magnificently
illuminated. On the 24th, the first letter written in the new
Sultan’s name, with all his titles and dignities, was received. It
announced his accession to the throne, and called upon the people
to be obedient. Its receipt was honoured by an almost endless salute
from the artillery in the palace square.
On Monday, June 25, the Sultan left Rabat for Meknas and Fez,
travelling through the tribe of Beni Hassen, which, together with
their neighbours the Berbers of Zimour, had already sworn allegiance.
At Tangier things were proceeding quietly. The French Government
sent a man-of-war and an armed despatch-boat, while the English
were contented with the presence of the Bramble, a small gunboat
from Gibraltar. The Portuguese and Spaniards both sent vessels of
kinds. An act of gross stupidity on the part of the commander of
one of the latter nearly caused an unpleasant disturbance in the
country. The Isla de Luzon was sent by the Spanish Government to the
coast. Now the first town down the Atlantic coast of Morocco is the
almost deserted and entirely ruinous Arzeila, a place of absolutely
no importance, and where there is no harbour of any sort. For
some reason known only to the adventurous Spanish commander, he
was pleased to come to anchor and to fire a salute of twenty-one
guns in the roadstead, which Arzeila had no means of returning,
for neither cannon nor powder are to be found; and as never in the
memory of man had any vessel of any sort ever approached the place,
the few inhabitants were filled with consternation and terror, which
was only increased when a boat was noticed coming ashore. There
was no doubt about the question in the minds of the natives—a
European invasion was taking place! A few stayed to see what was
going to happen; the greater part fled, spreading here, there,
and everywhere the news of the invasion of Moorish territory by the
Christians. Meanwhile the water-kegs which had been sent on shore in
the boats were filled, and the officer in charge, having taken coffee
in the house of a certain Jew who calls himself Spanish Consular
Agent, returned to his ship, and the man-of-war departed, steaming
away just as volunteers began pouring in from every direction to
prevent the infidels landing their troops. Before night some 2000
mountaineers and tribesmen had assembled in the neighbourhood. For
a time the wild reports that were circulated in Tangier caused a
little anxiety; but soon it became known that the whole scare was
due to either the ignorance or wilful stupidity of the commander of
the Isla de Luzon in saluting and sending a boat ashore at Arzeila,
which is a closed port, not to say a picturesque ruin.
On July 1, Mulai Abdul Aziz reached Meknas from Rabat, having _en
route_ prayed at the tomb of Mulai Idris I., in Zarahun, who lies
interred on the steep slope of the mountain above the Roman ruins of
Volubilis. Although his Majesty entered Meknas at an extremely early
hour, long before he was expected, he was accorded an enthusiastic
reception.
At Court affairs were fast proceeding to a stage which must end
tragically. Mulai Abdul Aziz, it is true, was firmly on the throne,
but the boy Sultan was only an item in the palace. The hatred and
jealousy of the Viziers amongst themselves was a public secret,
and all watched anxiously for the termination of the crisis which,
in spite of every outward and visible show of accord, it was well
known must soon arrive.
The fact that Sid Ahmed ben Musa had been chosen by Mulai Abdul Aziz
as almost his sole adviser had stirred the hearts of the rival Jamai
Viziers, the brothers Haj Amaati and Sid Mohammed Soreir, to their
very depths. Those who do not know the Moors are ill acquainted
with the strength of their passions; and there is no saying to
what extent their hatred and jealousy might not carry them. No
one could have been better aware of this than Sid Ahmed himself,
the most faithful and devoted follower the Sultan could possess,
whose mixed blood of Arab and negro strain gave him all the force
and cunning of the former and all the fidelity of a slave.
On Tuesday, July 10, at the sitting of the morning Court, Haj Amaati
and Sid Mohammed Soreir, the Grand Vizier and Minister of War, were
dismissed, the return of their seals being demanded. Both must have
realised that their end was practically come; and as they mounted
their mules and rode away from the palace, they were ruined men.
The dismissal of Ministers in Morocco is a very different affair
to what it is in Europe. It means disgrace, and more than that,
the almost certain confiscation of all their property—if not
imprisonment. The immense pride inherent in a Moorish official
of high degree renders all the more degrading his fall; while the
intense jealousy and hatred felt for the unscrupulous officials, to
whom all injustice and taxation is, often very rightly, accredited,
prevent any sympathy on the part of the public. The man to whom
every one had to bow and cringe had fallen; no longer was his wrath
to be feared; and the feelings of the populace, pent up for so
long, burst forth. No name was too bad for the late Grand Vizier,
no crime too fearful not to have been committed by him.
A sort of stupor fell over the Court. No one knew what would happen
next. This dismissal of two of the most powerful men, if not the
two most powerful, in the _entourage_ of the Sultan, was so sudden
and so far removed from the usual course adopted by a new Sultan,
that all held their breath, awaiting a future the details of which
they were not even able to guess at. Terror reigned amongst the
officials; wild reports were heard on every side as to who was to
be the next to fall; and expectation on the part of those who had
nothing to fear, and terror on that of those whose position rendered
them liable to a similar fate, was rife.
It was no secret whence the blow had been struck, for no sooner
were the posts of Grand Vizier and Minister of War vacated than
they were filled, the former by Sid Ahmed himself, the second by
his brother Sid Saïd; while to the Chamberlainship, which Sid
Ahmed had left to fill the still higher position, another brother
was nominated. Sid Ahmed thus obtained an overwhelming majority
in the surroundings of the Sultan, for the three most confidential
positions were annexed by himself and his two brothers.
The following Friday, July 13,—unlucky combination of day and
number,—Haj Amaati and Sid Mohammed Soreir were seized in their
houses and thrown into prison. Although it had been thought possible
that such a course might be pursued, the actual event caused an
unparalleled excitement. The work of arrest was quickly but roughly
done, but such are the ways of the Moors. The Basha of Meknas, with a
small band of troops, proceeded to the Grand Vizier’s house first,
and, gaining admittance, announced his errand. The horror of the
situation must have been fully appreciated by the Vizier, for,
giving way to one of those violent fits of rage to which he was
prone, he attempted to resist, and a soldier in his employ drew
his sword upon the Basha. In a minute both were seized, but not
before, in the struggle, Haj Amaati’s rich clothes had been torn to
shreds. Four ropes were fastened to his neck, each held by a soldier;
and, dressed only in his shirt, he was dragged through the streets,
amidst the derisive laughter and the curses of the people, to the
prison. The very crowd that now rejoiced in his degradation had
bowed low to him only a day or two before, as he passed through the
streets to and from the palace. One incident is worthy of mention,
as showing the feelings of the Moors. As he was paraded along, a
common _askari_, one of the riff-raff of Morocco, passed. “God!”
he cried, “why, the infidel has a better fez than mine!” and
with these words he lifted the turban and cap off the Vizier’s
head roughly, placing his own filthy head-gear in its place.
And the crowd laughed and jeered!
As soon as Haj Amaati was confined in jail, Sid Mohammed Soreir
was arrested; but, with far more pluck and courage, he followed
his captor without resistance, and entered prison like a gentleman.
Wild rumours spread all over the town as to the reasons of the
imprisonment of the Viziers, and it was generally stated that
a plot had been discovered by which the Sultan and Sid Ahmed,
the new Vizier, were to have been assassinated that very day, _en
route_ to mid-day prayers. But whatever may have been the truth
of this assertion, the fact remains that no attempt was made, and
Mulai Abdul Aziz was driven in his green-and-gold brougham to the
mosque, surrounded by his Court. Both his Majesty and Sid Ahmed
looked extremely nervous, and every possible precaution was taken
to prevent assassination. During the afternoon a lesser Vizier,
who acted as _amin el askar_, or paymaster of the troops, Sid el
Arbi Zebdi, was seized and imprisoned. This but added to the terror
of the remaining officials, who had escaped, but dreaded a like fate.
I had the opportunity the same evening of discussing the course
events had taken with two men, who hold in different ways almost
the highest positions in Morocco. One was himself a Vizier, the
other far above all fear of arrest. They both told me the same tale;
but, in spite of the high authority on which I heard it, I do not
think it is to be credited, and in my opinion it was the officially
agreed upon story, that was to give justice to the arrest of such
important members of the Sultan’s Court.
I was told that both the Viziers in question had addressed letters to
Mulai Ismain in Fez, and to Mulai Mohammed in Morocco City, the young
Sultan’s uncle and brother respectively, inviting them to seize
the opportunity of attempting the throne, and offering all their
large fortune and influence in the event of their doing so. These
letters, it was said, were intercepted and the plot discovered.
Although both the Viziers in question were quite capable of such
a plot, I cannot believe that either pursued the course stated
above. To a Moor a document of any sort is a far more important
thing than to us, and any one who is acquainted with the Moors
knows how extremely difficult it is to obtain any kind of matter
in writing. Had such an idea as that stated above entered the
minds of Haj Amaati and his brother, and had they formulated any
conspiracy to that effect, they would never have been so foolish
as to commit themselves to writing, and any communication with
the two Shereefs in question would have been made with the aid
of a trusted envoy. It was easy to see that one of my informants
at least discredited the story he was telling me, which he only
knew from official sources. My own opinion is this, that the whole
affair was the result of Sid Ahmed’s jealousy, and that he was
actuated no doubt also by a feeling that the course he pursued was
the safest in the Sultan’s interests—for by removing his own two
most dangerous enemies, he at the same time would find further scope
for his influence and policy. That the Viziers deserved their fate
none can deny. Haj Amaati had impoverished the whole country by his
enormous and insatiable greed and black-mail, and his brother had
deprived the soldiery of a very considerable portion of their pay.
Immediately the arrests were made the entire property of
both—together with that of Sid el Arbi Zebdi—was confiscated,
and their houses at Fez seized. Haj Amaati had just completed
the building in the capital of a palace second to none there in
size and decoration, a block of buildings rising high above the
level of the other houses, which will be an eternal landmark of
the Vizier’s rise and fall. It had been completed only during
his absence in the south with the Sultan, and so much pride did
the Vizier take in this new palace that he had ordered all the
decorations in stucco and mosaic, of which the Moors are perfect
masters, to be draped with linen, so that none should see the
general effect before himself. A rope attached to these curtains
would allow the entire drapery to fall, when the every beauty of
the decoration would be exposed. Within a week of realising this
dream of oriental fancy, he was cast into a dungeon, and his house
and all his wealth confiscated to the Sultan.
With the fall of the two Viziers it became more apparent than
ever that Sid Ahmed meant to be master of the whole situation;
but he was wise enough not to attempt alone what could be done
equally well, and very probably better, with the advice of
trusted counsellors. There were two people at the Court in whose
hands might lie the power of treating him as he had treated the
others. These two were respectively the Circassian mother of the
Sultan, and Sidi Mohammed el Marani, an influential Shereef, who
had married the sister of Mulai el Hassen, and into whose hands a
considerable part of the upbringing of Mulai Abdul Aziz had been
intrusted. Both must be conciliated, for over the Sultan both held
great influence—so great, in fact, that should Sid Ahmed’s
conduct in any way displease them, their united power might easily
persuade the Sultan to dismiss him. Not for this reason alone,
however, did Sid Ahmed, as it were, invite these two to join him
in a sort of council of regency, for he knew fully well the ability
of both and their devotion to his lord and master.
In the hands of these three persons the welfare of Morocco lies. But
before entering upon any conjectures as to the future, the history
of past events must be continued a little further.
On Thursday, July 19, a start was made from Meknas towards Fez,
the army and the governor of the tribes and their escorts having
camped the previous night a slight distance outside the town near
the Fez road.
Two events worthy of mention had meanwhile taken place at
Fez—first, the behaviour of Mulai Omar, the Sultan’s brother and
viceroy; and, secondly, the fact that the _enkas_, or local taxation
upon all goods sold, had been removed, together with the _octroi_
at the city gates.
With regard to the former a few words must be said. Mulai Omar,
who had been left as viceroy by Mulai el Hassen, whose son he was
by a slave wife, is a young man of extremely vicious and degenerate
habits, nearly black in colour, and with an expression as ugly as it
is revolting. While beyond his immorality no actual charge of crime
can be laid to his door, he may be said to be incapable of filling
the position he held, and to want discretion and common-sense.
It appears—and I knew of the event at the time—that on
his learning of the death of his father, he sent to the Jewish
silversmiths, by whom all Government work is done, and ordered
one of their number to make him a seal. Now in Morocco a seal is an
exceedingly important object, and no one uses a seal of office unless
it is actually presented to him by the Sultan. So far the story is
generally known, but here my version—the true version—differs,
for while the European press harped upon the fact that Mulai Omar
wished to make himself a seal with the inscription of Sultan upon it,
the fact was that the seal was to bear Mulai Abdul Aziz’s name,
and that the reason of Mulai Omar’s ordering it to be made was
not in order to stamp documents himself as Sultan, but probably
to have in his possession a means of forging letters supposed to
have come from Court. Whether his idea was by this to make the
best of the short period that remained to him as viceroy to amass
money, or whether in case of any outbreak or disturbance on the
part of the population to be able to forge conciliatory or other
letters that would keep them quiet until his brother’s arrival,
it is impossible to say. But whatever may have been the desire,
the result in the suspicious eyes of his brother was this—that
he had attempted by some means to usurp the throne.
However, the seal was never made. The Jew artificer, knowing the
penalty that would meet him at the hands of the Sultan were he even
the innocent instrument in this, fled and sought the protection of
an influential member of the Government, and the affair was knocked
on the head at once.
A second charge was also laid at Mulai Omar’s door—that of
having ordered the music of the drums and pipes to cease on the
occasion of the announcement of Mulai Abdul Aziz’s succession
to the throne. On the players refusing, his Highness sent a slave,
who enforced silence by splitting up the drums with a dagger. For
this act of treason he was afterwards punished by having the flesh
of his hand sliced, the wound filled with salt, and the whole hand
sewn up in leather. It is a common belief that this punishment
causes mortification to set in, and that the hand decomposes; but
such is not the case, for by the time the leather wears off the
wound is healed, the result being that the hand is rendered useless,
and remains closed for ever. It is a punishment not often in use,
but is sometimes done in cases of murder or constant theft, as,
without in any way injuring the health of the man, it prevents his
committing the crime a second time, or for the hundredth time, as
the case may be. It is a punishment that cannot be applied except
by the Sultan’s orders.
It was no doubt on account of these offences that letters were
received by Mulai Omar from the Sultan, forbidding him to leave
his house, and placing him under surveillance—a course that
was supplemented on his brother’s arrival by chains upon his
legs. Meanwhile his Majesty had been pleased to treat his brother,
Mulai Mohammed, in Morocco City, in the same manner.
As to the remitting of the local taxes and _octroi_ in Fez, but
little need be said. Certain unfriendly remarks had been overheard
regarding the new Sultan, and the general tone of the Fez people
was not satisfactory. Fearing that an outbreak might occur, and
knowing that the avaricious inhabitants were open to no persuasion
except money, the Amin Haj Abdesalam Makri, the Chancellor of
the Exchequer of Fez, on his own authority, remitted this most
unpopular tax, which is contrary to Moorish law. It turned the tide,
and the Fez citizen, finding himself a few dollars, or a few pence,
the richer, changed front, and was loud in his acclamations of the
new Sultan. The charm of the situation was, however, that as soon
as the Sultan had safely entered Fez, and was thus securely upon
the throne, he instituted once again the tax, and the population
rose on the morning of Tuesday, July 24, to find the tax-gatherers
returned to their accustomed haunts.
On Saturday, July 21, Mulai Abdul Aziz made his State entry into Fez.
From an early hour all was stir and bustle in the capital, and before
the sun had risen the streets were full of long strings of men,
women, and children, mounted and on foot, pouring toward the upper
part of the city, New Fez, where the entry was to take place. The
crowd was large but orderly, and, like all Moorish crowds, silent,
though now and again a shout burst forth when some native, gay in
colour, galloped along on his richly trapped horse and fired his gun.
Without the city the crowd ranged itself on each side of the road,
which was guarded by long lines of troops, the cavalry near the city,
and beyond in the plain the infantry.
The Sultan had spent the night at a distance of some six miles away,
where the great camp had been pitched, and early as it was when I
arrived upon the scene outside the gate of the city, stragglers and
troops from the _mahalla_ were already arriving,—wild tribesmen,
mounted or on foot, Kaids of districts with their troops of irregular
cavalry, mules and camels laden with baggage, black slaves and
women. I was soon free of the crowd, and riding slowly along behind
the line of soldiers toward the camp.
A murmur passed through the people, and turning to the west, I could
see a great cloud of dust appearing above one of the low elevations
in the plain.
The morning was lovely; the sun, although scarcely risen, was hot,
while a not unpicturesque, though by no means pleasant, addition to
the scene was the fine cloud of dust that hung over everything. Soon
one was able to distinguish the tops of the gold and coloured banners
that preceded the Sultan’s procession, and still nearer the white
draped figures of the women, mounted upon mules. Some eighty of these
there were, and as their mules were hurried along by the soldier
guard, every one, soldier and sightseer, turned away their heads,
as etiquette demands. Two women, covered, except for the eyes, in
soft white draperies, preceded the rest, and it was easy to guess
who they were,—the Circassian mother of the young Sultan and his
newly married wife.
Then came the artillery on the back of mules, followed by a troop
of bodyguards, handsomely dressed and mounted. After them the band,
mounted and discoursing music as they rode. Then again a forest
of banners, of every hue and colour, of cloth, velvet, and silk,
of gold embroidery and gold brocade,—the sacred flags of the
great saints and Shereefs of Morocco.
Behind these rode the Sultan Mulai Abdul Aziz, mounted upon a
dark roan horse with cream mane and tail, seated upon a saddle of
apple-green and gold embroidery, while over his head, borne by a
mounted soldier, waved the umbrella of crimson and gold. He was
dressed in white, a fine long _bernus_ hanging lightly over his
_haik_ of soft silk and wool. A cord of white silk bound round his
head held these two garments in place over his turban.
Mulai Abdul Aziz appeared nervous but dignified. Immovable as a
statue, one could not help noticing that his eyes wandered here
and there amongst the crowd, as though fearing some attempt upon
his life; but even to a greater extent than this was his anxiety
apparent in his mouth, for his lips wore a pout, with him a sure sign
of excitement. Close at the young Sultan’s elbow rode Bu Ahmed,
the Grand Vizier, while following him came a crowd of officials
and soldiers.
All rode quickly, stopping every now and again to receive some
deputation, or when the crowd caused a block, and the spear-bearers
and foot-guard that surrounded the royal horse had often to run. At
the gate of the city a long delay occurred, and the crowd pressed
on every side, for the entrance is small, and the artillery-mules,
in their hurry to push through, had completely blocked the road. I
was mounted on an Arab horse and saddle, and dressed in native
costume, so that my appearance attracted no attention on the part
of the natives, and in the crowd I found myself within a very short
distance of the Sultan, whence I was able to obtain an excellent
view not only of his face, but of his every feature. Dust-strewn
and sunburnt with his summer journey, he looked darker than he
really is, for his colour is little more than that of a southern
European. The eyes, surrounded with heavy black lashes, are dark. No
signs of beard or moustache are traceable on his lip or chin, and
altogether he possesses the face of a nice-looking boy, wanting
only in vivacity and expression.
Once in the city, the procession broke up, and accompanied only
by a trusty band of guards, his Majesty rode to the tomb of his
ancestor, Mulai Idris II., the patron saint of Fez, where he took
the oath of the Sultanate; and a few minutes later the great gates
of the white palace closed upon Mulai Abdul Aziz, Sultan of Morocco.
[Illustration: map
B.V. Darbishire
_From the Map published by the Royal Geographical Society_
Vincent Brooks, Day & Son Imp.]
INDEX.
* * * * *
Abda, 11.
Abdul Aziz, 40, 42, 43, 265.
„ Aziz, Sultan, 330-379.
„ Kader, Mulai, 298.
Abdullah ben Hoseyn, 145, 186.
„ ben Sessi, 55.
„ el Kamil, 335.
„ Shereef, Mulai, 335.
Abu Aam, 229, 274, 292, 305.
„ Bekr, 17, 18, 31, 52, 326.
Adrar n’Deren, 119.
„ n’Iri, 105, 119.
Africa, 93.
‘Africa,’ Marmol’s, 261.
Afuden Nugelid, 81.
Agdal, 34, 37.
Agorgoreh, 145.
Agurgar, 79.
Agurzga, 123, 124, 126, 127, 132, 142, 318.
Ahl Ferkla, 196.
„ Subah, 269, 270, 285, 287.
Ahmed ben Musa, 341, 364-367, 371.
Ain Sefra, 305.
„ Shair, 305.
Aissaua, 66, 298.
“Aït,” 260.
Aït Ahmed, 148.
„ Akherait, 79.
„ Atta, 92, 167, 168, 203, 208, 211, 212, 214, 266, 268, 285, 287,
305, 311.
Aït bu Gemmés, 167.
„ bu Haddu, 152, 153, 169, 175, 179, 180, 182, 315.
„ bu Hadidu, 266.
„ bu Kanifen, 189.
„ Hammu, 172.
„ Imiger, 68.
„ Isdeg, 196.
„ Ishak, 266.
„ Iunir, 169, 179, 181, 182.
„ Jazzer, 203.
„ Merghad, 196, 199, 216, 220.
„ Minzeru, 123.
„ Mulai Brahim, 189.
„ Robaa, 80.
„ Sakri, 148.
„ Shokhman, 312.
„ Tamuted, 172.
„ u Allel, 172.
„ Yafalman, 196, 219.
„ Yahia, 130, 142, 147, 149, 150-152, 166.
„ Yahia u Ali, 116.
„ Yussi, 84, 95, 100, 146, 303, 331.
„ Zaineb, 114, 115.
Akhliz, 54.
Alcazar, 354.
Algarves, the, 9.
Algeria, 20, 43, 63, 84, 258, 290, 304.
Algerians, 264.
Algiers, 20.
Ali ben Hamdush, 20, 298.
„ ben Yahia, 312.
„ el Derkaui, 24, 110, 298.
„ Shereef, Mulai, 6, 126, 224, 229, 255, 272, 274, 282, 286, 298,
313.
Amaati, Haj, 253, 341, 343, 363, 366, 367, 369.
Amana, 263.
Amazigh, 94, 99, 261, 263, 273, 285.
Anbed, 183.
Anti-Atlas. See Saghru.
Arabia, 102, 286.
Arabs, the, 11, 12, 44, 56, 58, 62-65, 96, 101, 102, 114, 117, 133,
138, 140, 141, 143, 145, 146, 157, 160, 161, 169, 196, 197, 203,
207, 208, 210, 218, 254, 256, 260, 261, 263, 268, 272, 285, 287,
289, 292, 296, 303, 360.
Arbaa miya, 172.
Arbaa sid Aissa, 68.
Arzeila, 361, 362.
Asif Adrar n’Iri, 75, 79.
Askura, 115, 117, 134-137, 140, 142, 149, 169, 219, 318.
Asrir, 194, 198.
Assaka, 115.
Atlantic, the, 7, 9, 55, 84, 87, 89, 93, 94, 361.
Atlas Mountains, 1, 2, 11, 13, 14, 27, 28, 49, 50-129, 136, 145,
148, 149, 166, 172, 208, 209, 220, 258, 266, 291, 304, 320, 323,
330, 333.
Ayashi, Jibel, 88, 209, 266, 304.
Ayur Nûgûrûmûn, 101.
Bab Dukala, 31.
„ el Khamis, 44, 45.
Baghdad, 298.
Bani, Jibel, 87, 88, 122.
Barbari, 93.
Barbary partridge, 89, 133.
„ wild sheep, 89, 133, 183, 214.
Barth, Dr, 93.
Bashas, 56.
Bauia, 220.
Bel Abbas, Sid, 40, 42, 145.
Beled Ahmar, 11.
Beled el Unja, 222, 295.
Beled Ersdigi, 56.
Belgrul, 7, 122.
Ben Aissa, Sid, 66.
„ Bu Shaib, 255.
„ Nasr, Sid, 145.
„ Nasr, Ulad, 122.
Beni Hassen, 361.
„ Merin, 70, 264.
„ Mgil, 84, 263.
„ Mgild, 84, 89, 100, 281, 303, 331.
„ Miskin, 347.
„ Mohammed, 285, 287.
„ Zerual, 298.
Ber, 93.
Berbers, 4, 6, 27, 54, 56, 60, 62, 64-66, 72, 83-104, 113, 116, 117,
122, 132, 138, 140, 142, 143, 146, 147, 153, 159, 160, 162, 166,
197, 203, 205, 207-209, 212, 215, 218, 222, 223, 256, 260, 261,
263, 269, 272, 285-287, 296, 303, 311, 322, 331, 332, 356.
Bombay, 289.
Brahim, Mulai, 145, 186, 308.
Bu Jhila, Wad, 136.
“Bu Kfus,” 292.
Bu Regreg, 7, 90.
Bu Sba, Ulad, 66.
“Bu Skri,” 292.
Bu Yahia, Sid, 179, 180.
Caillié, Rene, 261, 275.
Carthaginians, 285.
Casablanca, 7.
Chipiez, Perrot and, 103.
Circassian wife, 338, 376.
Dads, 22, 25, 26, 87, 92, 100, 104, 107, 109, 115, 116, 125, 129,
130, 131, 142, 147, 148, 150, 153-178, 183, 185, 187, 192, 198,
200, 207, 210, 213, 219, 291, 315, 317.
Dar bu Zeedu, 345.
„ el Baida, 87, 219, 279, 307, 331.
Dayet ed Daura, 129, 222, 267, 268.
“Debeha,” 98, 173.
Delbel, M., 259.
Demnat, 84, 167, 313, 314.
Derkaua, 110, 177, 198, 298.
Dhu Mansur, 263.
“Dimaan,” 301.
Dlim, Ulad, 12.
Draa, Wad, 87, 90, 99, 100, 111, 115, 119, 122, 125, 129, 130, 142,
145, 164, 197, 209, 227, 287, 305.
Drauia, 100, 165.
Dukala, 253.
Egypt, 93.
Egyptians, 264.
Eid el Kebir, 283, 290, 354, 355.
Eid Soreir, 284.
El Amin, Mulai, 340.
El Araish, 102.
El Arbi el Derkaui, 298, 299.
El Arbi Zebdi, 369.
El Barka, 304.
El Feija, 305.
El Gharbiya, 68.
El Ghorfa, 268, 272.
El Haj Abdesalam Makri, 374.
El Haj ben Said, Mulai, 146, 187.
El Haj el Arbi, 335.
El Haj Mohammed Torres, 3, 352.
El Harib, 305.
El Hassen, Mulai. See Sultan.
El Kasabi, 304.
El Kebir, Jibel, 201, 206.
El Khanek, 266.
El Madani, 107, 113, 138.
El Mansur, 39, 43.
El Megren, 304.
El Meharza, 223, 228, 271, 279, 280.
El Melha, Wad, 54, 55, 111, 112, 114, 222, 268, 271.
El Muiz, 43.
El Ostia, Kabyla, 138.
El Wad, Ras, 119.
Embarka, 22.
Er Ribía, Um, 90, 347.
Ertib, 265-268, 271.
Es Saheli, 304.
Es Sefalat, 268, 270, 272.
Es Sifa, 222, 223, 228, 268, 270, 271, 279, 280, 292.
Esh Shereef, Mulai, 264, 274.
Fabir, 39.
Fadhul Gharnit, Sid, 230, 231, 237.
Fatima, 335.
Fezna, 218, 308.
Ferkla, 194, 196, 200, 201, 211, 216, 311, 312.
Fez, 3, 4, 5, 6, 27, 29, 31, 35, 36, 43, 70, 84, 100, 146, 166, 225,
229, 233, 264, 274, 291, 296-298, 302, 303, 312, 328, 330,
334-337, 344, 354, 357, 360, 361, 374, 375.
Figig, 305.
Filal, 186, 260.
Filelis, the, 70, 264, 289, 335.
F’ki Sinhaji, 342.
Foucauld, M. de, 115, 199.
Fum esh Shink, 306.
Gadaruz, 68.
Gers, 304.
Ghadat, Wad, 68, 70, 71, 75, 77-79, 82, 86, 106, 324.
Gheris, 87, 88, 90, 129, 163, 185, 199, 209, 215, 219, 220, 228,
265-268, 270, 271, 276, 292, 295, 308.
Ghiata, 100, 146.
Ghiralda, 39.
Ghorfa, 273.
Ghresat, W., 127-129, 132, 142, 191.
Ghrlnema, 306.
Gibraltar, 18, 328.
Glawa, 88, 106, 111, 113, 138, 167, 320.
Glawi, 40, 75, 79, 86, 105, 115, 119, 120, 327, 333.
Glissa, Jibel, 41.
Guers, Wad, 266.
Guir, Wad, 304.
Gurlan, 275.
Hamacha, 20, 286, 293, 298.
Hamada, 304, 305.
Hamdush, 21.
Hamitic origin, 94, 147.
Hammu, 110, 178.
Hamza, Sid, 266.
Hannibal, 221.
Haratin, 99, 100, 164, 197, 209, 227.
Harrar, 90.
Hassan, 39, 335.
Hausa, 297.
Hejawa, 356.
Hercules, 189.
Hiyaina, 360.
Hooker, Sir Joseph, 87, 88, 90.
Hoseyn, 335.
Hunot, Mr, 9, 328.
Ibn Khaldun, 263.
„ Yusef, 43.
Idermi, Wad, 100, 115, 125, 130, 167.
Idris, Mulai, 43, 143, 335, 363, 379.
Idu Tizi, 148.
Ifli, Wad, 264, 268, 272, 273.
Ighir, 185, 186.
Igidi, 305.
Igli, 201, 202.
Igurian, Wad, 123.
Imasin, 142, 147, 317, 318.
Imerghan, 113, 115, 132.
Imguna, Wad, 147, 148, 151.
Imin Erkilim, 189, 216, 313.
„ Tanut, 175.
„ Zat, 54, 58, 59.
Imiteghr, 184-186, 190.
Isla de Luzon, 361.
Islef, 311.
Ismail, Mulai, 265.
Ismain, 337, 368.
Iutagin, 172.
Jerf, 219, 220, 222.
Jews, 45, 46, 75, 77, 97-99, 173, 196, 287, 296, 362, 372.
Jibeelet, 12, 56, 87, 121, 122.
Jumma el Fanar, 44.
„ el Makhzen, 33.
Kabyla el Ostia, 138.
„ Mzuru, 138.
Kaid Maclean, 231-236, 249, 257, 307-308, 311, 314, 317, 323. 325.
Kaiseríeh, 30, 123.
Kalá, 87.
Kanadsa, 305.
Kasabi, 304.
Kasba, 30, 33, 45, 106, 107, 111.
Kasba ben Ali, 270.
„ el Hati, 220, 222.
Kasbat el Barania, 270.
Kheneg et Taurea, 115.
Korah, Jibel, 176.
Koreish, 208.
Ksar bel Hassan, 270.
Kus, Wad, 102.
Kutubía, 30, 38, 40.
Laraiche. See El Araish.
Leo Africanus, 263, 289.
Linares, Dr, 5, 238, 258.
Lixus, 102.
Maghrah, 213, 215, 216, 309.
Magil, Ulad, 138.
Majdata, 122.
Marakesh, 4, 10, 11, 15, 19, 25-49, 50, 52, 55, 75, 83, 86-88, 91,
100, 115, 138, 146, 167, 174, 178, 185, 186, 207, 253, 258, 259,
291, 302, 316, 326-328, 330, 332, 342-344, 374.
Marghen, Wad, 106, 111, 114, 320.
Marmol, 261.
Marohsha, 201.
Martinez Campos, General, 333.
Masin, Wad, 67.
Mazagan, 7.
Mdri, Wad, 133-135, 142.
Mecca, 25, 177, 264, 295, 299.
Medaghra, 265-268, 270.
Medina, 31, 33, 42.
Medinat el Aamra. See Sijilmassa.
Mediterranean, 84, 90.
Meknas, 4, 20, 27, 298, 371.
Melilla, 304, 332.
“Mellah,” 45, 46, 77, 173, 174.
Mesgita, 99, 100, 130, 131, 142.
Milaab, 202, 203, 311.
Miltsin, Jibal, 119, 120.
Misfuia, 53, 56, 58, 62, 66, 68.
Mjat, 356.
Mogador, 55, 259, 305.
Mohammed ben Abdullah, 265, 351.
„ er-Rifi, 8, 177, 226, 231, 234, 238, 289, 315.
„ Mulai, 339, 368, 374.
„ Prophet, 20, 41, 142, 143, 145, 208, 299, 335.
„ Sid, 342.
„ Soreir, Sid, 363, 366, 367.
Monabat, 263.
Morocco City. See Marakesh.
Mtrus, 221.
Mtuga, 175.
Mukhtar Jamai, Sid, 342.
Muluya, Wad, 84, 90, 263, 304.
Musa ben Nasr, 263.
“Mzareg,” 97.
Mzuru, Kabyla, 138.
“Neiba,” 99.
Nemours, 304.
Njil, 303, 304.
Numidia, 262.
Omar, Mulai, 358, 371-374.
Oran, 100.
Othman, Mulai, 312.
Paris, 259.
Perrot and Chipiez, 102.
Phœnicians, 96, 102-104.
Portuguese, the, 7, 361.
Rabat, 7, 39, 89, 334, 344, 346, 347, 349, 358, 361, 363.
Rahamna, 56, 62, 79, 87, 121, 122.
Ras el Wad, 119.
Rehal, Sidi, 56, 325.
Reshid, Mulai, 264, 287.
Reteb. See Ertib.
Riff, the, 95, 332.
Riffía, 56, 100.
Riffis, 66, 100, 111.
Rissani, 274, 292.
Rohlfs, Gerard, 261.
Romans, 94, 96, 101, 102, 285.
Rumi, 101, 187, 215, 284, 319.
Saffi, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 15, 22, 50, 55, 56, 223, 316, 328.
Saghru, Jibel, or Anti-Atlas, 87, 102, 122, 126, 128, 130, 131, 134,
150, 151, 166, 172, 183, 186, 189, 190, 200, 209, 214, 215, 219,
285, 301, 305, 311.
Sahara, 1, 19, 96, 99, 102, 151, 261, 262, 297, 298, 313, 331.
Said, Sid, 365.
Satow, Mr E., 352.
Sebaashaabat, 133.
Sebkhat Aamar, 272.
Sebu, Wad, 90.
Seddat, 191, 313.
Seddrat, 147, 166.
Semgat, 222.
Seville, 39.
Shahr el Fukra, 101.
Shauia, 325, 348.
Sheikhs, 46, 72, 74, 75, 308.
Shelha, 56, 99, 100, 107, 142, 165, 261, 319.
Sherarda, 356.
Shereefs, 19, 21-23, 26, 40, 45, 89, 107, 109, 110, 116, 126, 142,
143-145, 148, 152, 153, 156, 176, 187, 188, 206, 242, 270, 274,
285, 286, 292, 312, 315, 318, 319, 334, 336, 354-356.
Shloh, 94, 100, 143, 147, 208, 263, 287.
Shragna, 252.
Sijilmassa, 228, 261, 262, 264-267, 273-275, 283, 300.
Sirua, Jibel, 119, 120.
Somaliland, 90.
Spaniards, the, 332, 361.
Sudan, 27, 297.
Sufru, 5, 233.
Suleiman, Mulai, 299.
Sultan, 1-7, 11, 35, 37, 46, 70, 143, 196, 205, 219, 223, 230-259,
262, 265, 283, 284, 287, 307, 310, 312, 314, 326-329, 330-379.
Sus, 87, 90, 95, 100, 119, 305.
Susía, 100.
Syria, 224.
Tabuassamt, 271.
Tafilet, 5, 6, 7, 22, 26, 40, 50, 60, 70, 83, 87, 107, 110, 112,
129, 138, 146, 149, 167, 174, 177, 179, 183, 186, 191, 197-199,
203, 209, 231-307, 313, 316, 317, 326, 330, 334, 344.
Tagharzut, 303.
Tagnit bu Hammu, 148.
Taieb, Mulai, 298.
“Tamarix senegalensis,” 135.
Tamgrut, 87, 122, 145.
Tamslot, 145, 146, 186.
Tangier, 2, 3, 7, 20, 25, 104, 141, 262, 352, 354, 361, 362.
Tanijiud, 219, 268, 270, 272, 273.
Taurirt, 119, 313.
Tedla, 344, 345.
Teherumt, 122.
Telettin Nugelid, 79.
Teluet, 106, 107, 111, 112, 117, 344.
Tenduf, 305.
Tensift, Wad, 12, 14, 28, 55, 83, 90.
Tetuan, 239.
Tetula, 75, 79, 80, 82, 106.
Thomson, Joseph, 88, 90.
Tialallil, 266.
Tidili, Jibel, 75, 79, 120.
Tifinut, 119.
Tiluin, 190, 199, 215, 218, 309.
Timatruin, 186.
Timbuctu, 27, 305.
Tisgi, 115.
Tizimi, 266, 268-270, 307, 308.
Tizi n’ Telremt, 266, 304.
Todghra, 176, 183, 185, 190, 198, 201, 202, 213, 215, 216, 311,
312, 314.
Trekeddit, Jibel, 148.
Tripoli, 63, 83, 94.
Tuat, 305.
Tugana, 66, 68, 324.
Tuirassin, 113, 115, 117, 142, 319.
Tunisians, 264.
Turks, 264.
Uidan, 55.
“Ulad,” 260.
Ulad ben Nasr, 122.
„ bu Sba, 66.
„ Hanabu, 220.
„ Magil, 138.
„ Yakub, 138.
Ul Turug, 206, 207, 211-213, 309.
Um er Ribía, 90, 347.
Unila, 111-115, 119, 123.
Urika, W., 54-56.
Vandals, 96.
Viziers, the, 3, 222, 234, 239, 242, 243, 250, 334, 341, 346, 348,
350, 358, 363, 364, 370.
Warzazat, 107, 109, 111, 117, 167.
Wazan, 89, 298, 328, 335, 336, 354, 355.
Wergha, Wad, 90.
Yakub, Mulai, 166.
„ Ulad, 138.
Yembo, 286.
Zarahun, 363.
Zarkten, 68, 71, 72, 74-77, 79, 324.
Zauias, 42-44, 55, 87, 152, 175, 176, 179, 266, 299.
Zimmour, 89, 361.
“Zitat,” 97.
Ziz, Wad, 88, 90, 129, 209, 215, 222, 228, 265-269, 270, 273, 275,
281, 283, 285, 287, 292, 304, 307.
PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.
Transcriber's note:
pg 115 Changed: Thoughout to: throughout
pg 381 Changed: Aissana to: Aissaua
pg 381 Changed: Belgrue to: Belgrul
pg 383 Changed: Dayeled to: Dayet ed
pg 383 Changed: Fegna to: Fezna
Other spelling inconsistencies have been left unchanged.