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.”