Breakfast at the “Eyebrow’s”—The late Síd Músa—Second
sight—Death of Grand Vizier—Moorish customs—Marocco at
Chatham—Cursed by a saint—Professional Story-teller—Shallow
graves—Slave-market—Treatment of slaves.
_Tuesday, 27th April 1880._
We had breakfast this morning at the house of Síd Hamed ben Músa, the
lively and bustling little courtier whose title is Hájeb, or “Eyebrow,”
of the Sultan. Our guide led us a long way round, apparently for the
sole purpose of making us pass the very unsavoury heap, outside the
town, that I described before, the smell of which, under the action of
the hot morning sun, was pleasant and _appétissant_ to an empty stomach.
Dismounting at the gate of the Eyebrow’s garden, we heard that he had
just been sent for by the Sultan, so we sat down and awaited his return.
The room into which we were shown was curiously furnished—French
four-posters, Buhl cabinets, artificial flowers, and last, but not
least, no fewer than thirteen clocks! Till our host came we were
entertained by an elderly man with a long grey beard and finely cut
features, who, we were told, had spent some time in England, having
returned from there six years ago. He had also travelled all over
Europe. Now, I thought, is an opportunity of getting some ideas first
hand, without the medium of an interpreter. But I was disappointed in my
man, whose reasons for not speaking in any language but his own were
decidedly Moorish. “I used to understand English and to talk it,” he
explained through Sir John; “but since I came home I noticed the ugly
accent with which Moors at Tangier speak that language, so gave it up at
once, and shall never express myself in anything but Arabic again;” and
certainly no entreaty would make him break through his singular resolve.
The little Hájeb presently arrived, and made his excuses in the most
touching manner. “I am glad I am late,” he said to the Envoy, “as now I
find you all at home in my house; so I will be your guest, and you shall
be my hosts.” Síd Hamed ben Músa is the son of the late Grand Vizier,
Síd Músa, who died about a year ago, and who, besides being a man of
commanding appearance and advanced views, was respected by the Sultan as
one of his ablest advisers. A curious story is told about him, which I
noted down at the time it was translated to me. It appears Síd Músa,
like many Moors, had a firm belief in what we in Scotland call second
sight, and shortly before his death sent to a hill tribe for a man who
was reputed to possess this gift. The sage having been brought in fear
and trembling before the great man, was asked if he could tell him what
the future had in store for him. “Do you want to hear the truth, and
will you pardon me, whatever it is?” “Yes,” replied the minister; “I
want to hear all you can tell me.” It was some time before the answer
came, hesitatingly, but as pleasantly worded as the circumstances would
allow. “Within three weeks you will be embracing the houris in
paradise.” Soon after this Síd Músa was taken ill with a sort of low
fever, and whether the words of the hill-man affected him, so that he
could not shake it off, it is difficult to say, but at all events he
soon felt that his end was at hand. Therefore, being a hereditary
bondsman of the Sultan, and knowing that the enormous property he had
amassed would pass to him at his death, he sent for his favourite women,
and giving them each a parcel containing jewels and money, took leave of
them. Being too ill to move, the Sultan at his earnest request came at
night to see him, and to bid farewell to one who had been his best
friend and counsellor. “I hope at my death,” said the Vizier, “your
Majesty will not appoint my son successor in the office; he is clever
and intelligent, but unfit to govern.” “It shall be as you wish,”
replied the Sultan, who at the minister’s death made the son “chief of
the household,” in which capacity he entertained us to-day. The dying
statesman then continued, “I am your Majesty’s bondsman, and all I have
is yours. I have amassed one and a half million dollars and a quantity
of jewels, besides much property, of which here is a list I have made
out.” “The money and jewels,” said his master, “having been gathered
from my governors and people, will, as is the custom, revert to my
treasury, but all your other property shall go to your son.” This was an
act, in this country, of great liberality on His Majesty’s part, as
besides houses and land, Síd Músa had over a thousand slaves in his
establishment at the time of his death. He died the day following this
interview with his lord, and within a month of the time he had consulted
the man with second sight. He was succeeded by the present Vizier, a man
far inferior to him in talent; but as it is unbecoming to speak evil of
dignities, especially during their tenure of power, I will let my former
description of him suffice. There was nothing unusual about our
breakfast at the “Eyebrow’s,” except that Sir John, being out of sorts,
ate nothing, and Síd Hamed, to keep him in countenance, or because he
felt nervous about tackling a knife and fork, did the same. This is
probably our last Moorish feast, and I can confidently say that from a
careful study of their mode of eating and of living generally, there is
no comfort to be found in any of the habits of these people, so far at
least as I am acquainted with them; nor does their great divergence from
the principles of what we call civilisation procure for them greater
pleasure in life than is enjoyed by less barbarous nations. They get up
at unearthly hours, and associate, except when in their harems, with no
one but their own sex, of whom they must get very tired, and whose
converse with each other must be robbed of almost all interest and
reality by the national and inbred practice of lying and deceit. Then,
even the society of their womenkind, though they know that, as far as
human precautions go, they must be sole possessors of their hands if not
of their hearts, must be very wearisome after a little, utterly ignorant
as the women are, except through the gossip of slaves and eunuchs, of
what is passing in the outer world. Unable in almost every case to read
and write, they spend their whole time in eating, sleeping, and
quarrelling with each other—uninteresting companions for a man of any
intellect or culture to associate with; and in point of fact, no such
companionship is ever expected from them. The way of eating, too, to
which I alluded, and about which they are very conservative, is the acme
of discomfort. They even argue on the excellence of their own system as
opposed to ours, as I noticed at breakfast lately at the Grand Vizier’s.
“See,” said the Vizier, with an idiotic grin of superiority, “all of us
three eat with our fingers, while the Bashador is obliged by English
custom to use a knife and fork; we have the advantage of you.” “Well,”
replied the Envoy, “the superior cleanliness of my way of eating is
manifest; here am I ready to shake hands with any one who may come in,
write a note if necessary, or open one, while you are all up to your
wrists in mutton fat.” “At all events, you have a ready answer for us,”
interposed His Majesty’s chief treasurer, who was of the party; and as a
matter of fact His Excellency generally has.
One of the three officers who has gone through a course at Chatham came
to me to-day for a lesson on the heliograph. I must say the result of
their two years’ studies there does them great credit, as they not only
had to master English thoroughly as a preliminary, but made such good
use of the time that remained that they seem a fair imitation, at all
events to one who has not the advantage of belonging to that scientific
corps, of the ordinary article turned out at Chatham. It would be
unjust, however, to include the attainments of all three in the same
category; two are moderately intelligent, plodding sort of men, who, by
their own account, worked hard and lived very quietly when in England;
the third, though more highly gifted by nature, abandoning the precepts
of the Prophet and allying himself with Satan and the British officer,
seems to have had an idle though pleasant time of it. The first part of
his name, Síd Drís, is followed by a high-sounding and sonorous affix,
“Ben Abd el Wáhad,” which being interpreted signifies “son of the slave
of the one (God),” hardly applicable to the individual in question,
whose chief topic of conversation relates to “les femmes, le jeu, et le
vin,” in which he indulged in the Modern Babylon. Síd Muhammed Gavass,
another of them, is a painstaking, quiet individual, but has some
obliquity of vision (physical, not moral like his friend’s), which makes
him a bad pupil in the art of heliography. He seems anxious to know our
opinion of Marocco, and is glad to hear we like the country. He quite
appreciates the misfortune of so much of it lying waste, though I hardly
credit the reason he assigns for this, viz. that the soil will not bear
crops two years running. He cannot account for their not using manure in
the fields, as he says they always do in their gardens—a fact to which
the good vegetables we get testify. A “patent-point-protected pencil,”
with which I was making out a Morse-Arabic alphabet for him, excited his
admiration, and as he said “the Sultan was anxious for one,” I gave it
him for the purpose of presentation to His Majesty, perfectly aware, as
was he, that it would not get nearer that destination than his own
pocket.
They are all forgetting their English very rapidly, and I am afraid
their other accomplishments will, in time, follow suit. I never can
grasp the name of the best linguist of the three, it is something
between a cough and a sneeze; he answers among us, however, to the
patronymic of “Skirritch,”[41] which he may or may not have received
from his godfathers and godmother, and has been wonderfully quick in
learning the adjustment of the heliograph.
[Illustration: STORY TELLER AND AUDIENCE]
In an afternoon ride with Miss Hay, the khalífa, and Zouche, we came
upon a bridge which crosses the Sebú, about four miles below the town.
The river there is about 70 yards across, with a swift current; and the
bridge is well built, and of solid masonry. It is not of Roman work, so
must have been built by a Sultan of some bygone age, when the use of
stone in building was better understood than now; it is in good repair,
and on the track of the caravans going and returning from Tafilet and
Timbuctoo. Near the river we met a beggar man, who turned round and
cursed us so volubly that even the ire of the khalífa, who is slow to
wrath, was roused; and two of our escort, seeing that the compliments
were understood and appreciated by him, galloped after the man, with a
view to chastisement. Presently they came back and reported that the
offender had got away among some rocks, and eluded them; but I am
inclined to think there was an odour of sanctity about him which made
the soldiers lax in their pursuit. We kept outside the town as much as
possible on our way back, to avoid the Scylla of narrow streets and
nauseous smells, but encountered a Charybdis in the shape of numerous
graves, dug very shallow, and from which emanated a most sickening
odour. This was being thoroughly enjoyed by a crowd of people who were
listening to a professional story-teller, who holds forth every evening
to a large audience seated among the graves. There must certainly be
something intrinsically healthy in this place to counteract the effect
of the awful nuisances, chiefly in the way of neglected carcases and
scantily-buried bodies, which surround us everywhere, and which would
otherwise sow disease more broadcast than they do. One advantage in the
system of shallow graves in a country where burial follows very quickly
on death, is the facility for disinterring yourself, should your friends
have been a little premature in their final arrangements. As they only
wrap their dead in a white cloth, with no restriction in the way of
coffins; and as the grave is barely two feet deep, in loose sandy soil,
there is little to prevent a person of ordinary energy from rejoining
his friends, should he find himself a victim of too precipitate
sepulture. Our native servants have got a story just now of a man who
was buried “accidentally” a few Sundays ago, reappearing unexpectedly at
the public sôk the following Monday. I cannot vouch for the truth of it;
but _se non è vero è ben trovato_.
I have paid two visits to the slave market, the first time accompanied
by Zouche and the medico, with Tweedledee as guide, interpreter, and
friend, as usual; on the second occasion, with only the latter worthy
and a couple of soldiers. There is less twaddle talked about slavery in
Marocco than is the case elsewhere, by the Exeter Hall community,
possibly because it is known that the only petitions sent by slaves here
to British representatives have been, so I am told, to request that the
institution may not be done away with; and certainly, judging by the
well-fed and cheerful appearance of all the slaves one sees here, there
can be little hardship in their lot.[42] Notwithstanding our being aware
of this fact, I fancy that we three Christians (Tweedledee is an
Israelite), as we rode along through the miserable alleys to the spot
where the “abominable traffic” was carried on, were not quite free from
the idea—I was on the point of writing hope—that, on turning the corner
into the yard where the market was held, we should see a batch of
victims fastened by the neck to an iron bar, while savage “drivers” with
long cowhide whips, _Kúbba la_ Uncle Tom’s Cabin, would be keeping them
in order. This, of course, is what ought, according to sensational ideas
on the subject, to have met our view. What we did see was half a dozen
people selling grain, about fifty idlers loafing about, or looking at a
few mules which were for sale; while, in a corner, under a sort of shed,
sat a couple of black women chatting together and with the bystanders;
while in front of them squatted a negro, with a surly expression of
countenance, but well clad, and in excellent condition. These three
individuals were the only slaves there for sale; but as we were a little
early, and trade in Fez, as elsewhere, is dull, we determined to stay a
short time, and see what happened. Although there was nothing in the
appearance of the parties chiefly concerned to denote any dislike to the
system, it gave us strangers rather a turn to see one’s
fellow-creatures—one of them in this case young and pretty—put there for
sale, exactly the same as the mules in the opposite corner, though at a
lower figure. Nor was it pleasant to watch intending purchasers eyeing
them over like cattle, and drawing down the veil from the face of one of
the girls to examine her teeth, in much the same way as a man was doing
to one of the said mules on the other side. The loss or badness of teeth
is considered not only as a blemish, but as likely to interfere with the
digestion, and in consequence, the general health of the “article.”
Slaves are, for the most part, as black and ugly as all other negroes
from the interior, though some of the women have pretty brown
complexions and pleasing features. They are brought from the Soudan by
Moorish traders, a common mode of catching them being by scattering
sweetmeats, or, in hard times, corn, outside the villages. This is
continued in a line to some covert close by, just as a poacher at home
entices pheasants with raisins, when the children (they are mostly young
when abstracted) are pounced upon and carried off by the trader. One of
the ladies—I think a wife—of the Grand Vizier, owes her present position
to this ingenious device; and many men have risen to lucrative and
honourable posts who commenced life in Marocco as slaves, and
subsequently obtained their freedom. Not many cases of ill-usage occur;
if they do, the victim can complain, and claim redress. He has to bring
his case before the Kádi, who, if he finds real cause for complaint,
orders the slave to be sold by auction, the former master being in no
case allowed to buy him in. Another regulation which tends to mitigate
the misfortune of their condition is that, if they wish to do so, they
may save money earned by extra work, and purchase their freedom. An
acquaintance of mine was once asked for a contribution towards this end,
and he gave it; but I question if the act was any more legal for a
British subject than that of buying a slave for the purpose of setting
him free; which latter proceeding, as calculated to encourage slavery,
is severely punishable by law. The Koran contains very strict rules
regarding masters and slaves, with their powers and rights respectively.
One of the most important is, that if a female slave bear a child to her
master, both mother and child are _ipso facto_ freed; though, as my
informant, who is the possessor of many slaves, told me, a man may have
a child by his friend’s slave without any such penalties attaching, the
child in fact becoming the property of its mother’s owner.
Owing to some suspicion on the part of the authorities, either of us or
of the soldiers with us, they would not put a slave up to auction while
we were there. Some people I asked said it was “harámi”[43] to sell a
slave to a Christian, and that they were afraid I should outbid them,
and insist on removing my purchase; others, that the superintendent of
the market knew that the English disliked slavery, and thought we were
there for the purpose of getting their Government into trouble. Whatever
might be the reason—and we knew it was improbable they had given us a
true one—we saw they were determined our curiosity should not be
gratified; and one might as easily move a mountain as a Moor who has
made up his mind. When unaccompanied by cruelty, and properly looked
after, as the sale of slaves here seems to be, the system is not so very
unlike that which prevailed till recently in Scotland at “Feeing
Fares,”[44] where farm labourers, male and female, used to be exposed
for hire by people looking for servants.
My second visit to the market was equally fruitless as regards seeing
the actual auction, and the way the people mobbed one was very trying.
As we rode in there were not twenty people there, but in five minutes
the place was full, and we the lonely centre of a gaping crowd. If our
persecutors had only been of the buying class, we should have felt we
were benefiting trade by attracting them to the market; but they were
chiefly boys and idlers, who contented themselves with execrating us as
we rode away. “The brute-th that they are!” said Tweedledee; “why to
thtare tho at us?” and although, as regards myself, I am quite of
Tweedledee’s opinion, I cannot help feeling I should turn and take a
second look at _him_ if seeing him for the first time in the street.
The slavery of Christians was abolished in Marocco by treaty in 1814,
but in the year 1721 there were no fewer than eleven hundred Christian
slaves in Mequinez, the property of the aged Sultan Mulai Ismael. Of
these about three hundred were English, who had been in confinement
there many years, and subjected to the most revolting cruelties. An
interesting account of their ransom and release is to be found in
Windhus’s “Journey to Mequinez,” the author having accompanied Commodore
Stewart’s embassy to Marocco, which sailed from England in September
1720, for the redemption of the captives.
The price of negro slaves in Fez at present is, for a girl of sixteen or
eighteen, from 100 to 150 dollars, and for a lad of the same age, from
70 to 120 dollars. They seem to make capital servants.