A MEMOIR OF
SIR JOHN HAY DRUMMOND HAY
Oxford
HORACE HART, PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
[Illustration: Barraud’s Photo.
Walker & Boutall Ph. Sc.
J. H. Drummond Hay]
A MEMOIR OF
SIR JOHN DRUMMOND HAY
P.C. K.C.B. G.C.M.G.
SOMETIME MINISTER AT THE
COURT OF MOROCCO BASED ON HIS
JOURNALS AND CORRESPONDENCE
WITH A PREFACE BY
SIR FRANCIS W. DE WINTON K.C.M.G.
PORTRAITS & ILLUSTRATIONS
LONDON
JOHN MURRAY ALBEMARLE STREET
1896
PREFACE
* * * * *
On his retirement from public service in 1886, Sir John Hay Drummond
Hay, at the instance of many friends, undertook to set down the
recollections of his life. Some of these notes were published in
_Murray’s Magazine_ in 1887 under the title of ‘Scraps from my
Note-book’; others were laid by to be incorporated in a complete volume.
The work was, however, interrupted by an accident to one of his eyes
which rendered it impossible for him to write. For a time he confined
himself to dictating to my sister, who acted as his amanuensis, quaint
stories and detached incidents connected with the Moors, intending to
resume the continuous tale of his life when his sight grew stronger.
But, shortly after the recovery of his eyesight, and before he had
proceeded much further in ‘unwinding the skein of his memories,’ he was
prostrated by a severe illness, followed by influenza, of which he died
in 1893.
It has fallen therefore to my sister, Miss Drummond Hay, and myself,
his two daughters, to endeavour to unite, to the best of our ability,
these scattered notes and memoranda, and to add to them such details as
could be supplied from our own recollections. In this task we have been
naturally somewhat restricted. In the first place, we have been obliged
to omit from the memoirs of one who lived and died so recently much
that might have been published twenty years hence. In the second place,
as we have been necessarily debarred from using any official documents
except those published in the Blue Books, our work can scarcely do full
justice to the life of a public servant. These restrictions have not
lightened our task; and, had it not been for the kindly help and advice
of friends, we should have had still greater difficulty in tracing,
from my father’s notes and private correspondence, the course of his
lifelong labours in Morocco.
The main portion of Sir John’s letters are addressed to his mother—to
whom he was a devoted son—and, later, to his eldest sister, Mrs.
Norderling, who was during her lifetime the sympathetic and intelligent
sharer of his confidences. Except with his mother and sister he carried
on but little private correspondence, principally on account of his
sight, which was enfeebled after an illness in 1859. But he wrote
occasionally to friends, several of whom preserved and have kindly lent
us his letters. Some of these have been utilised, and for all of them
our thanks are most gratefully tendered.
On my father’s account of his school days at the Academy in Edinburgh
and at the Charterhouse in London, on his early life at Tangier, or on
his apprenticeship to diplomacy at Constantinople under Lord Ponsonby
and the great Elchi, it is unnecessary to dilate. The recollections and
impressions of boyhood and youth break off when more serious work
presses on him after his appointment as Consul General in Morocco in
1845. Though considered very young for such a post, for he was only
twenty-eight, his training in Egypt and Turkey well qualified him for a
position which was destined to give scope to a character eulogised by
one of his chiefs as vigorous, temperate, and straightforward. He was
aided by his great facility in writing and speaking foreign languages,
as at that time he had perfect command of Turkish, Italian, Spanish,
French, and Arabic; and to the end he retained his fluency in the
last three.
From the moment that he was appointed Consul General in Morocco, his
letters are animated by the one great aim on which his public career
was concentrated—the increase and consolidation of British influence
in Morocco. British interests, he believed, could best be furthered by
the encouragement of commerce, by the amelioration of the condition of
the Moors, and also by personally gaining the respect of the people.
Extracts from his diary of 1846 tend to show how he set himself to
attain these objects; and his endeavours bore good fruit. The account
of the arrest of piracy in Rif, through his intervention, may be taken
as an instance of his direct personal influence in dealing with the
wild mountain tribes.
His power of talking familiarly in their own tongue with natives of
every degree was of great advantage to him in gaining a personal hold
on the people, and many illustrations might be quoted from the stories
which he tells of his meetings with various governors of the provinces
through which he travelled in the course of his frequent journeys to the
Court at the cities of Marákesh, Fas, Meknes, or Rabát. In fact his
purity of motive, tenacity of purpose, his ever ready and shrewd advice,
won the respect and good opinion of the people of Morocco. Implicit
confidence was placed in him by high and low alike.
On his influence with successive Sultans it is unnecessary to enlarge.
The offer of Sultan Sid Mohammed to place in his hands the entire
control of the foreign affairs of Morocco speaks for itself. The story
of Benabu, again, relates how the latter entrusted untold gold to my
father’s keeping, assured that his treasure would reach its destination,
though no witness or written paper attested to the transaction. Lastly,
to take an instance in humble life, we may point to the pitiful faith
placed in him by a wretched Rifian criminal when on the point of
surrendering himself to the authorities.
Nor were this reliance in his uprightness and this respect for his
judgment confined to the Moors. During the war between Spain and
Morocco, when he alone of all the Foreign Representatives remained at
his post, he was appealed to by the Spanish friars to protect their
church and its sacred contents from the insults of the angry Moslems.
Their confidence was not misplaced: his protection secured the sacred
building from the slightest injury.
The Spanish war at first seemed likely to check the development of
trade in Morocco at the moment when it was on the point of revival.
The promise of prosperity was due to the Commercial Convention
negotiated by my father in 1856, a convention which an old resident
in Morocco, one well qualified to appreciate its value, has termed
the Magna Charta of that country. But when peace was declared, the
result of the contest proved eventually to be rather a blessing than a
curse. The necessity of raising a loan to pay the war indemnity impelled
the Sultan to ask help from Great Britain, thus enabling my father the
more forcibly to impress upon H.S.M. the necessity of introducing into
the administration of the Customs reforms which immediately and
substantially increased the revenues of Morocco.
Yet in spite of the good results which in this instance followed the
acceptance of his advice, the apathetic and ignorant Moors could rarely
be induced to take active steps in the path of reform. It was only under
the pressure of necessity that any advance was made. This lethargy did
not, however, proceed from any want of plain speaking on my father’s
part. As is shown by the account of his private interview with Sultan
Sid Mohammed at Marákesh in 1872, he indicated to that potentate, in
the clearest and most emphatic language, the debased condition of his
realm, and the iniquities of the system under which his subjects were
governed.
But it was not with the recalcitrant Moorish Government alone that my
father had to contend. His later letters recount his failure to put a
check on the abuses caused by the protection of natives by foreigners,
and the consequent downfall of his hope that the end of his career might
be signalised by another and more extended commercial treaty. The
Moorish Government was not inclined to promote foreign trade, contending
that greater facilities for commerce would inevitably cause an influx
of alien traders, each of whom would have his native agents and servants
under the protection of a foreign flag, and that such protected
subjects, not being immediately amenable to the native authorities,
would only increase friction, lessen the Sultan’s authority, and
diminish the exchequer.
Her Majesty’s Government recognised my father’s value by repeated
promotion, and honours were bestowed on him under various
administrations; but he was given to understand that his services could
not be spared from the country where, it may be said, he was an
acknowledged power. Indeed, the principal aim of my father’s life during
his long career in Morocco—the preponderance of British influence over
that of all other nations—may be said to have been attained and
maintained during his tenure of office. In 1885, the last year of his
official life, he writes with reference to his unceasing anxiety that
neither France nor any other country should by any means obtain a
footing in Morocco, ‘As a sentinel of the Straits, I fire my gun, as a
warning, when I know of a move to obtain that object.’
Sir Francis de Winton, in his kindly and graceful introduction, touches
on the expedition to the lower slopes of the Atlas made by the Mission,
of which he was a member, in 1872, when the heights to the eternal snow
were climbed by Capt. Sawle and Mr. Drummond Hay, and when the cordial
reception offered by the wild natives left a pleasant impression on my
father and his party. He also refers to my father in the light of a
sportsman. The latter’s recollections of many of the happiest days of
his life spent in pursuit of wild boar and other game were noted by
himself, and some of them have been embodied in this work. A keen and
hard rider, an unerring shot in his earlier days, before his eyesight
was impaired, and of almost reckless courage, he was well fitted to
become the elected leader and head of the native hunters. Under his rule
sport flourished in the environs of Tangier, the ground allotted for
the purpose by the Sultan was properly guarded, and the close season
strictly observed: it was then that pigsticking in Morocco reached its
highest perfection, and gave pleasure to many of every rank and
condition, whether Europeans or natives.
It is doubtful whether sport could again flourish in the environs of
Tangier as it did in my father’s day. An increasing armed European
population, the introduction of weapons of precision, and the denudation
of the woods, render such a prospect unlikely. His stories therefore of
narrow escapes and exciting days may prove of interest to the lover of
the chase; and to some, who in those bygone years shared his sport, may
perhaps recall the memory of pleasant times spent with him in the field.
L. A. E. BROOKS.
INTRODUCTION
* * * * *
To this memoir of the late Sir John Hay Drummond Hay I have been asked
by his daughters to write a few introductory lines.
My acquaintance with Sir John began in the year 1870. At that time I
was quartered at Gibraltar, being on the staff of Sir William Fenwick
Williams of Kars, who was then Governor of the fortress.
They were old comrades, Sir John and Sir Fenwick, having served together
in Constantinople, and the friendship begun in Turkey was continued at
the gates of the Mediterranean. Often and often Sir John and Lady
Drummond Hay, with their two daughters, visited the Convent at
Gibraltar; and in return the doors of the Legation at Tangier were ever
open, and always gave us a hearty welcome.
It was between 1870 and 1875 that this intercourse took place, and to
me it is filled with happy recollections. The quaint old town of
Tangier, full of the decaying influences of Moslem rule, yet keeping
up the struggle of life after an existence of over a thousand years;
racial and religious differences, civilisation and barbarism,
struggling along together, while Jews and Arabs, unchanged for five
hundred years, jostled with Christendom of the present day. It was a
strange medley: and out of it all stands one figure prominent, nay
pre-eminent, in the history of Morocco during the past forty years.
I do not think Sir John’s reminiscences sufficiently convey the enormous
influence he wielded in the empire, so called, of Morocco. Throughout
the Sherifian dominions his name was known and respected; and after the
Emperor and the Sheríf of Wazan, his was the most powerful influence in
the state. His long residence in the country; his intimate acquaintance
with the manners and customs of the people; his perfect knowledge of
Arabic; his love of justice; his absolute fearlessness; his keen
appreciation of their sports and amusements, in which he often joined;
not only made him the trusted friend of the late Emperor and his
predecessors, but also the chosen friend of the people.
In the many expeditions in which I had the good fortune to be one of
Sir John’s companions, I had abundant opportunities of observing the
power he possessed over the different tribes with whom we came in
contact; and especially among the hill tribes of Jebel Musa, who occupy
the country between Tangier and Tetuan. These people held him in great
esteem, and often sought his advice and counsel in their tribal
differences; thus enabling him to be of service to the Emperor in the
constant struggles between that ruler and his people.
A description of Morocco and its government has often been essayed by
various writers; but no one could give an adequate idea of Sir John’s
influence who had not personally witnessed his intercourse with the
discordant elements which constitute the government of that country.
On one occasion I had the pleasure of being on Sir John’s staff when he
paid a visit to the Emperor, who was then residing at Marákesh. What a
pleasant journey it was! The daily ride, the evening camp, our first
view of the great Atlas range of mountains, the entry into Marákesh, our
reception by the Sultan, and the six weeks we spent in the city but
little known to Europeans; and it was, perhaps, the events of that
journey which impressed one more than anything as to the individuality
and power of the British Representative.
By many Sir John will also be remembered as an ardent sportsman. Whether
he was organising a boar-hunt, or a day after partridge, or enjoying a
run with the Calpe hounds, there was always the same keen interest,
the thorough enjoyment of sport, which characterised the man. Under
his guidance you were always sure of finding boar, or of getting a
good bag of partridge; and it was through Sir John that, some twelve
miles South of Tangier, where the ground was favourable, the exciting
sport of pigsticking was introduced into Africa. Well do I remember
after a day’s sport the evening camp fire, round which we gathered after
dinner, when Sir John would tell us of some of his earlier hunting
recollections. He was an excellent story-teller, keeping his audience
in a state of the deepest interest to the end; and then, with a merry
twinkle in his eye, he would finish his narrative by a description of
some ludicrous incident in which he was often the chief actor, and no
one joined more heartily in the laughter which followed than he himself.
It is not possible, within the short space of an introduction, to give
more than a mere outline of the personality of Sir John Drummond Hay.
His recollections furnish the true index to his character. In them
are reflected the sterling honesty, the integrity, and the courage
and capacity of the man who, though working in a country but little
known and full of prejudice and fanaticism, made England respected and
trusted. He belonged to that band of the men of Great Britain who
serve their country wherever they are placed, and who, while mindful
of her interests and her honour, gain the good will of the rulers and
the people to whom they are accredited.
In conclusion, I shall ever remember him as a friend whom I respected,
and for whom I always had a true affection; and when asked to write
these few lines, while wishing the duty had fallen to an abler pen than
mine, I felt that, having been honoured with his friendship, I might, in
affectionate remembrance of that friendship, write this brief tribute
to his memory.
F. DE WINTON.
CONTENTS
* * * * *
CHAP. PAGE
PREFACE v
INTRODUCTION xiii
I. BOYHOOD. 1816-1834 1
II. WAITING FOR EMPLOYMENT—JOSÉ MARIA. 1834 11
III. ALEXANDRIA. 1840 20
IV. CONSTANTINOPLE AND LORD PONSONBY. 1840 30
V. CONSTANTINOPLE WITH SIR STRATFORD CANNING. 1841 49
VI. MISSION TO TANGIER 66
VII. POLITICAL AGENT AT TANGIER AND FIRST MISSION TO
MARÁKESH. 1845-1846 76
VIII. VISIT TO SALLI AND DEPARTURE FOR MARÁKESH. 1846 97
IX. RESIDENCE AT MARÁKESH AND RETURN TO TANGIER. 1846 108
X. DIFFICULTIES OF MR. HAY’S POSITION AT TANGIER.
1846-1854 133
XI. LIFE AT TANGIER 142
XII. SECOND MISSION TO MARÁKESH. 1855 167
XIII. BENABU. 1857 184
XIV. MR. HAY’S POSITION AT TANGIER. 1858 198
XV. THE WAR WITH SPAIN. 1859-1862 205
XVI. SIR JOHN HAY’S HOME AT TANGIER. 1862 221
XVII. THIRD MISSION TO MARÁKESH. 1863 230
XVIII. JOÃO, THE PORTUGUESE GUNSMITH 241
XIX. FOURTH MISSION TO MARÁKESH. 1872 264
XX. ASCENT OF THE ATLAS MOUNTAINS 288
XXI. MISSION TO FAS IN 1875 307
XXII. 1876-1879 318
XXIII. THIRD MISSION TO FAS. 1879-1880 329
XXIV. 1881-1884 338
XXV. LAST YEAR OF OFFICIAL LIFE. 1885 354
XXVI. OUT OF HARNESS 365
INDEX 399
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
* * * * *
PAGE
PORTRAIT OF SIR JOHN HAY DRUMMOND HAY
(_From a photograph by Barraud._) _Frontispiece_
SENYA EL HASHTI 229
RECEPTION BY SULTAN SID MOHAMMED _To face page_ 238
RAVENSROCK 353
PORTRAIT OF SIR JOHN HAY DRUMMOND HAY ON HORSEBACK
_To face page_ 368
* * * * *
NOTE
The system of orthography used in this book for native names and places
is that adopted by the Council of the Royal Geographical Society, _the
true sounds of words as locally pronounced being taken as the basis of
spelling_, except in the case of old-recognised names such as Tangier
(more properly Tanja). According to this system, vowels are pronounced
as in Italian; consonants as in English; _kh_ and _gh_ as the Oriental
gutturals.
Morocco, the name of the region of _Western_ Mauritania of Roman
geography, has undoubtedly been corrupted from the native name ‘Moghreb’
(setting sun). Maroc, Marocco, Marruecos, Marok, &c., written by
different peoples of Europe, are curious corruptions, some even further
off from Moghreb than the English corruption of the native name, and no
nearer to the old classic corruption _Mauritania_ than in beginning with
_Ma_ instead of _Mo_.
The name of the ancient _city_ which we British call _Marocco_, or yet
more absurdly _Morocco_, is in the mouth of the natives ‘_Marákesh_.’
SIR JOHN HAY DRUMMOND HAY
* * * * *
CHAPTER I.
BOYHOOD. 1816-1834.
In 1816, my father, at that time Major in the 73rd Regiment,
was on the staff of Lord Lynedoch—then in command of the army
of occupation—and held the post of ‘Majeur de Place’ at
Valenciennes; where my mother, after the conclusion of peace,
had joined him. Here I was born on the 1st of June of that year,
and my name was inscribed as a French citizen at the Mayoralty.
After my father retired from the army, he was offered by his
relative the Earl of Kinnoull, hereditary Lord-Lyon, the office
at Edinburgh of Lord-Lyon Clerk. At Edinburgh we resided first in
an old-fashioned house at Deanhaugh—the boards of the room where
I slept were stained with the blood of a tenant who had committed
suicide there—the garden adjoined that attached to the house where
the painter Raeburn dwelt. Later, we moved into a house in Athol
Crescent, one of the first of the new buildings in Edinburgh in those
days; I have a little sketch, from a window at the back of the house,
of the pretty country seen therefrom and which is now all built over.
With my elder brother, I was sent as day-boarder to the Academy. Early
in the morning, after a breakfast of porridge, and having been given
by my mother a penny to buy a ‘bap’ for my luncheon, I started
off, with my satchel on my back, for school. Near Stockbridge I
would meet ‘daft Jamie’—walking up and down in all weathers,
bareheaded, with his hands behind his back—and often gave the poor
fellow half my bap: one day he had disappeared, and afterwards I
learnt he had been one of the first victims of the murderers Burke
and Hare, who sold bodies for dissection to the eminent surgeon, Knox.
Being an indolent boy, and having great difficulty in learning
by heart any lesson, I was always at the bottom of the form, but,
for my age and size, I was the best runner and player at football;
at which game I broke my arm and was taken to the well-known surgeon,
Symes, to have it set.
On going to school in the morning, I passed through Charlotte
Square and there frequently met Lord Cockburn[1] taking an early
walk, wearing Hessian boots, a large frill of shirt showing from his
waistcoat and a long chain with seals dangling from the fob in the top
of his trousers. He was a friend of my father’s, and on one occasion
he stopped and asked me to state what place I held in the form.
Hanging my head with shame, I did not reply.
‘Come,’ he said, ‘I dare say you are dunce! Tell me.’ I
replied that I was always at the bottom of the form. Upon which Lord
Cockburn said, ‘That’s right, my dear boy; keep there and you
are sure to get on in life and become an eminent man. Do you know
who I am?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘you are a judge.’
‘Well,’ he resumed, ‘I was like you, always at the bottom of
the form. Some day you may be a judge, or a greater man than I am.’
Shortly after this happened, having reported to my mother that
I was dunce as usual, she remonstrated with me for being such an
idle boy. Then I joyfully related Lord Cockburn’s language to me,
adding, ‘Some day I shall be as great a man as he is.’
As may be supposed, the judge was rebuked by my parents for
encouraging me in idleness!
The future archbishop, Tait, was at the Edinburgh Academy at the same
time as myself. Though an idle boy, I learnt more at that school
than I did in the five years I spent at Charterhouse—whither I
was transferred with my brother in 1827—and it was at the Academy
that I won a prize of which I was very proud. It was not a reward
for efficiency in study, but an annual prize given to the boy who
was elected by a majority of votes as the favourite of the school.
In 1844, being on a visit to a friend in Edinburgh, I went to the
Academy, and on inquiring of the porter at the entrance who were then
the masters, I learnt that one of them was Ferguson, who had been
master of my form, and that he was then at lunch in the lodge with
the other masters. I entered, without my name being announced, and,
recognising Ferguson, gravely said: ‘I beg to be let off to-day,
Sir, for being late; I was prevented coming earlier.’
‘Hay junior,’ he replied at once, ‘you are forgiven.’ How he
had been able to remember my face after a lapse of sixteen years,
when he had known me only a smooth-faced boy, who now returned as
a man with a moustache, was especially strange to me, who never can
recollect any face—unless indeed it be that of a pretty woman!
Walter Scott was a great friend of my family and frequently came to
Athol Crescent. I have often sat on his knee and had stories told
me by him. I also accompanied my father to Abbotsford and spent
some days there, and I remember that on our arrival Walter Scott,
followed by his sleugh-hound ‘Maida,’ came out to welcome us,
and, taking my father by the arm, he turned round to ‘Maida’
and said, ‘Do you take care of Johnny and let him have a ride on
your back if he likes.’ ‘Maida’ and I became great friends,
and she allowed me to get on her back; for I was a very slight boy.
When in Edinburgh, Walter Scott for a time lived in Walker Street,
leading out of Coates Crescent, opposite to our house. He called one
day on my mother and said he was going away for a month and requested
that he should be allowed to send, at night, his writing-table, desk,
and chair to her house, as he said his housekeeper complained bitterly
that she had no peace from the constant visits of travellers, asking
permission to see the chair, &c., where he wrote his works. My mother
consented, and Walter Scott then added: ‘I shall put a notice on
the door of my house, “Walter Scott has left this house and his
furniture has been removed.”’
A few days after the removal to Athol Crescent of the desk and other
articles, there was an unceasing knocking and ringing of bells at
our front door by travellers, begging to be admitted to see the
desk. My mother had to have it removed, and a notice, similar to
that suggested by Walter Scott, was placed on the door.
Mention is here omitted of an incident well remembered by his children
as related by Sir John’s mother, Mrs. Hay. Some visitors who gained
admittance to her house removed surreptitiously her own worn quill
pen from Walter Scott’s desk, under the impression that it had
been used and left there by him!
Among the memoranda left by Sir John are notes to the effect that
when he entered Charterhouse, Thackeray had either just left or was
about to leave that school; but Havelock, Leech, and John Murray
were his schoolfellows, as also a young Sheridan, who was remembered
by him chiefly on account of the readiness with which he would
improvise verses on any subject. This boy appears to have been of
improvident habits, and was generally in a state of impecuniosity,
which debarred him from buying the dainties in which other boys
indulged. His schoolfellows would offer to share their tarts, &c.,
with him if he would make verses in reference to them—to which he
would instantly respond with apt rhymes.
During their early school life at Charterhouse the brothers
spent their holidays with either of their two grandfathers, the
one being the Rector of Hadleigh, Dean Drummond (youngest son
of the Archbishop of York of that day, and brother of the ninth
Earl of Kinnoull), through whom lay Sir John’s claim to French
extraction, as the Dean’s wife was a daughter of the Prince de
Vismes et de Ponthieu. Captain J. Thomson was their other and maternal
grandfather. A very learned linguist, he had been private secretary
to the Marquess of Hastings in India, spoke twenty-five languages,
and was author of _Etymons of the English Language_, which work was
completed after his death by his son-in-law, Mr. E. A. Drummond Hay,
father of the subject of the present memoir.
At Christmas-time, however, the two boys returned to their parents
in Edinburgh, a long, wearisome journey from London, travelling by
coach through two days and nights in bitterly cold weather. The
return journey to school, in particular, seems to have left a
desolate remembrance of arriving in London, cold and stiff after long
confinement in the crowded coach, but also a pleasant recollection
of the gruff kindness to the young travellers of the guards, who
would often forego their customary tip when changing, rather than
disturb from their sleep the schoolboys who were going from home.
After the death of Dean Drummond, and the appointment of their father
to a foreign post in 1829, the brothers were wont to spend a portion
of their holidays at Dupplin Castle with the Earl of Kinnoull, to
whom they were then prospective heirs: the elder to the earldom,
the younger to the property of Cromlix. In fact, Lord Kinnoull
asked their father to allow him to have entire charge of the two
boys and of their education, in view of their being his probable
successors. But this offer was prudently declined, their father
not wishing them—the sons of a poor man—to be brought up amidst
surroundings unsuited to adapt them for pushing their own way in life,
and in the expectation of a prosperous future which, in their case,
might fail to be realised. In this he judged wisely; as, while still
in the prime of life, Lord Kinnoull married and had a large family.
The boys, however, continued to spend many happy holidays at Dupplin;
posting from Edinburgh to Perth, a pleasanter mode of travelling
than by coach.
Another recollection, in connection with their visits to Dupplin,
was the ceremonious importance of their attendance at the parish
church at Aberdalgie on Sundays. Though only a short distance
intervened between this place and the Castle, the family coach,
with four horses and postilions, was always prepared, and in this
manner the two schoolboys proceeded alone to the church, to occupy
on arrival the family ‘sitting,’ and listen, with what patience
they might, to the long discourse of the minister.
In 1829 my father was appointed Political Agent and Consul
General in Morocco. At that time I was at Charterhouse, and first
received the tidings from another boy who had seen the notice
in the _Gazette_. Geography was not taught at Charterhouse, and,
as my informant professed ignorance regarding the whereabouts of
Morocco, beyond that ‘it was a country in Africa inhabited by
naked niggers,’ we got hold of a map and made therein a voyage of
discovery until we found Morocco.
My family came up to London from Edinburgh and rented a house in
Clarges Street for the season, and my father decided that my elder
brother, the late Sir Edward Hay, and I should remain at Charterhouse
two or three years longer; then rejoin our family at Tangier, and
there be placed under a private tutor.
It was a curious coincidence that before my father was appointed to
Morocco, or had indeed any expectation of obtaining any employment
in a foreign country, the boys at Charterhouse had nicknamed me
‘Othello,’ or ‘the Moor,’ not only because I was a passionate
youngster who resented an injury, but also on account of my dark eyes
and hair and olive complexion; typical of a thorough Hay, according
to Sir Walter Scott in _The Fair Maid of Perth_, where he describes
the clan as ‘a dark, short race.’
A frigate, H.M.S. Athol, in command of Captain Gordon, conveyed my
father and family to Tangier.
Three years later [1832], when I was fifteen, my brother and I, to
our great joy, were summoned to join them. Steam communication was
very rare in those days, and we sailed from Plymouth in a merchant
brig of about a hundred and fifty tons, with only a skipper and four
seamen on board. She was a clipper and made the run in seven days.
It was a rough life on board the brig: hard sea-biscuit, salt pork,
with now and then currant dumplings, was the fare.
Nothing particular occurred during the voyage, except that after
rounding Cape St. Vincent, when off the Spanish coast, a large lateen
craft—called a ‘mistico’—gave chase, making signals to the
brig to heave to: but our skipper, who declared the ‘mistico’
to be a pirate, responded to the signals by hoisting every stitch
of canvas—though a strong breeze was blowing—and we flew through
the water, leaving the ‘mistico’ far behind, and she gave up the
chase after firing shots which missed us. Probably she was a Spanish
revenue vessel and her commander had mistaken us for a smuggler.
There was a six-horned Barbary ram on board, which the skipper had
not been allowed by the Customs’ officers to land in England,
for fear, I suppose, of its contaminating the British breed of
sheep. No provision of fodder had been made for the poor animal,
but, as he had become a great favourite with the sailors, he was not
made mutton of, and lived on a pittance of hard biscuit, which the
sailors gave him from their rations. The poor ram was so ravenous
that I mischievously offered him one day a slice of cold mutton
between two pieces of biscuit, and this he devoured with avidity!
On our arrival at Tangier, my brother and I were placed under the
tuition of a Spanish gentleman, Don Gregorio de Borgas y Tarius,
whose father had been Captain-General in Estramadura; but, during the
reign of Ferdinand, having taken part in some ‘pronunciamiento’
against the despotic acts of that sovereign, he was compelled to
fly from Spain. His property was confiscated, and he and his son
gained their livelihood by giving lessons. Don Gregorio was a learned
man—not only a classical scholar, but a good mathematician, and
spoke French perfectly.
During the five years I had spent at Charterhouse I had studied
little or nothing except football, cricket, tennis, and other games;
in these I took the lead of others of my age. What I knew of Latin
or Greek had been acquired by me when a day-boarder at the Edinburgh
Academy—a far superior school at that time to Charterhouse for
education, as idle boys were there made to study: but even at
the Academy, geography and modern history were not taught. I had
learnt the history of the gods and goddesses, and knew much about
the doings of Jupiter, Juno, Hercules, Venus, &c., but was left in
total ignorance of English history, except what my mother taught me,
while knowing little or nothing of the history of Europe, or even
of the recent great war with Napoleon.
After we had spent two years in Tangier, my elder brother was
appointed a clerk in the Colonial Office, through the influence of
our relative, Mr. Robert Hay, then Under-Secretary for the Colonies;
so I was left alone under the tuition of Don Gregorio, but made
little progress, except in the French and Spanish languages, which
I acquired with as much ease as I had experienced difficulty in
mastering the classics.
LETTER FROM MISS SHIRREFF TO SIR JOHN’S DAUGHTERS.
41 Stanhope Gardens, S.W., _Jan. 31_, 1895.
You have asked me, my dear friends, to tell you something of
our recollections and impressions of your father’s early home;
not that of his childhood, but of his early youth—that in which
his character was formed and the bent and purpose of his manhood
received its definite direction. It is but little that I can tell;
but as I am one of the few survivors of those who had the privilege
of knowing that home in those early days I will do what I can.
It was my father’s appointment late in 1830 to the post of Captain
of the Port at Gibraltar that first brought us into contact with
the Hay family. Not long after our arrival Mr. Drummond Hay came
over to see us and claim my mother as his cousin, though till then
personally unknown; and his kindness and delightful conversation
and old-world courtesy had made an easy conquest of us all. The
invitation that followed for Minnie[2] and myself to pay a visit
to Tangier was therefore at once accepted with great glee; though
circumstances—a deep family sorrow, illness, and my father’s
absence in England—delayed it till the spring of ’33. At last the
moment came. My father took us over, and we were left among strangers
who were to become the dearest friends of all our after lives.
Mrs. Drummond Hay’s kind motherly greeting to her two young guests
soon set us at ease. Mr. Hay delighted us again as at first, and we
then were at leisure to make acquaintance with the younger members
of the family; first Louisa[3], the eldest daughter, a year older
than myself; then your father, at that time a lad between sixteen
and seventeen.
Your father, who had but lately left Charterhouse and come to live
at home, was at this time engaged with the study of Arabic, more
rare then than now, and which was carried on more or less secretly
owing to native jealousies. He was thus not only preparing for work,
but was also laying in great measure the foundation of that immense
influence and popularity among the Moorish population, for which he
was so remarkable in after years.
When the busy mornings were over, riding and music were the two
delights that drew the young party together. Under Mr. Hay’s
guidance, and with the escort of a Moorish soldier, still at that
time necessary for protection, many were the delightful rides that
we took beyond the precincts of the old town, along the shore, or
through the half-wild country, so new in all its aspects to our eyes.
Then on our return, and often far into the evening hours, the long
balcony, or gallery as it was called, outside the drawing-room windows
was our favourite resort. Here we eat fruit, and talked over our ride,
and here guitars were brought out, and song and merry talk went on.
The garden, full of flowers and lovely shrubs, lay below us; in the
distance stretched the rugged coast of Spain; Gibraltar reared aloft
its rocky summit, whence the flash of the evening gun might be seen;
while the golden glory of the Western skies lighted up the narrow sea
between, alive with fishing craft, or some stately vessel passing
through the straits. Truly it was a lovely view, and once enjoyed
could never fade from one’s memory. That enjoyment was only changed
for the pleasant circle at dinner, or in the drawing-room.
Perhaps it was the fact of our close intimacy with dear Mrs. Hay
through the long years of her many changes and trials that makes
the recollection of the first impressions of her less vivid; yet
her gracious beauty, her gentle, pleasant ways in the midst of the
cares of such a household, can never be forgotten. But Mr. Hay was
himself emphatically the centre and ruler of the family life—a
stern ruler at times to his children, but they revered the will which
they were bound to obey, and loved the father. Louisa’s congenial
spirit, her sympathy in his literary tastes, made her naturally his
companion, young as she was, and as secretary—no such person was
then officially recognised—she was invaluable.
Such, then, as I have striven partly to describe it, was the home
in which John Hay was gradually developing the qualities that were
most remarkable in him through later years—courage, resolution,
sense of duty, power of work and willingness to work, warm and wide
sympathies, overflowing fun, and readiness to give help, no matter
in what direction: if the thing wanted were in his power to do it
was done, from mastering an unruly horse to teaching algebra to a
backward student.
The outside surroundings of the home had also their influence. Society
in Tangier was necessarily restricted, but within the small circle
of different nationalities the social tone of various countries
became familiar, and then the intercourse tended to dissipate
national prejudices, and to lead the young to wider sympathies
than generally prevail where all are more or less under the sway
of the same habits and associations. This was naturally favourable
to one who was destined to the diplomatic service, as was also the
necessary use of at least two foreign languages—French for society,
and Spanish, partly for the same, but also as the medium of common
intercourse with all the non-Arabic surroundings.
With reference to your dear father especially I may truly say that
whenever we met him in after years we felt that we were meeting
the same valued friend of our youth, and again our thoughts turned
to the dear old home where, under a noble father’s guidance,
he was trained to all manly excellence, and where he had learned
to form his ideal of womanhood under the influence of the loving,
unselfish mother, and the sister whose bright intellect added force
to the pure beauty of her character, and made her worthy to be his
trusted friend and confidant to the last hours of her life.