POLITICAL AGENT AT TANGIER AND FIRST MISSION TO MARÁKESH. 1845-46.
On November 6, 1845, Mr. Hay writes as follows to the
Hon. A. Gordon:—
I have been daily expecting a summons ‘_to the Court exalted of
the Lord_’ (_par excellence_), but His Sherifian Majesty has made a
move from the city of Meknes, fearing, I suppose, to be _stalemated_
by the knight Bugeaud and his ten thousand pawns.
By latest accounts from the interior the Sultan has arrived at
the united town of Rabat and Salli, the latter famous, as you may
remember, in days of yore for its dreaded rovers.
To-morrow I expect a courier from the Sultan which will decide,
I hope, the time and place for my visit to His Majesty, and, when
_en route_, I hope to be able to better amuse you by some accounts
of this ‘barbarous’ people.
You ask whether I think the Moors will submit to be ‘_peaceably
invaded_’ by the French in their ‘chasse’ of Abd-el-Kader? My
answer is in the negative, and I fear that such invasion will produce
a most complicated state of affairs throughout this Empire, which
might hereafter create a question of grave importance.
The French start from a wrong principle in their mania for destroying
Abd-el-Kader; for if this French hydra were killed to-morrow, few
months would elapse before another arose. It is to the hostile and
fanatical feeling of the inhabitants that they must attribute all
their troubles, and until they find a better cure for this feeling
than a system of violence and retaliation, battle and murder will
never cease in that territory as long as an armed Arab exists.
When Algiers was first taken, my late father, who was an old
soldier, and knew the character of the Arab, remarked to the French
Chargé d’Affaires, who was boasting of the importance of their
newly-acquired colony, that ‘it would prove a very dear conquest,’
and that he felt positive that ‘before twenty years elapsed,
a hundred thousand men would be required to hold the country, and
that each year would bring fresh demands for troops, not to protect
their colonists, but to destroy the Arabs.’
Another evil for the French Government is that the military chiefs,
sent to fight in Africa, know that if there be no Abd-el-Kader there
will be _no Duc d’Isly, no ‘gloire,’ no crosses_. Were either
Louis Philippe, or Guizot, Governor of Algiers, I could foresee
something like future tranquillity; but at present I look forward
to a series of events, upon which I could write chapters, that will
render necessary either the conquest of Morocco by the French, or
the limitation, for another score of years, of their possessions to
within a day’s journey of the coast.
I must not be more explicit on this subject, or you would think me
perhaps to be trespassing on the limits of what a servant of the
public is not justified in writing thus privately. . . .
Here at once, in a three hours’ sail from Gibraltar, you are
transported, as if by enchantment, a thousand or two thousand years
back, and you find yourself among the same people and the same
style of living as you read of in the Scriptures. The Bible and the
‘Arabian Nights’ are your best handbooks, and would best prepare
you for the scene. Lane’s most excellent work, on the ‘Customs
and Manners of the Egyptians,’ is the most exact work I ever read
of Mohammedan customs, and is very applicable to this country.
Mr. Hay started on his mission to Sultan Mulai Abderahman on March 3,
1846. The following extracts are taken from letters addressed to his
mother during the journey, and forwarded by her to the Hon. A. Gordon
at Mr. Hay’s request.
I am off for the exalted Court of His Sherifian Majesty Sultan
Mulai Abderahman, and alas! it is Tuesday, an unlucky day for ‘the
faithful’: for ‘Telatsa felatsa,’ say the Moors—on the third
day (Tuesday) all fails; but good omens have attended the start,
and, as I am taught by my favourite trooper, Kaid Abd-el-Kerim,
now snoring at my tent door, good omens such as I have experienced
this morning will counterbalance the unlucky day: ‘God forbid,’
said he, ‘that its name should be repeated.’
Yes, as I put my foot in the stirrup, a holy dervish, one who would be
profanely called in Europe a madman, rushed up and threw his patchwork
and party-coloured mantle over me, and, lifting up his hand towards
heaven, cried out, ‘God’s blessing and the Sultan’s favour
be with you!’ I threw his Holiness a small coin, for no doubt
I had deprived him of much virtue,—at least I should suppose so
by the otherwise unaccountable creeping and itching I experienced;
but perhaps my fancy may have misled me.
Kaid ‘Bu Jebel’ (‘the Father of the Mountain,’ grandfather,
I suppose, of the Mouse!), with his doughty followers, compose my
escort—some thirty in all. I found them drawn up in zig-zag line
in the little Sok (market-place), headed, though not commanded,
by young Sid Abd-el-Malek, the son of my old friend Kaid Ben Abu,
governor of Rif, who, at my particular request, is to accompany us.
In the outer market-place all the corps of foreign Representatives,
a host of chevaliers, but very _mal à cheval_, joined our party, and
a scene commenced, which continued till they left us, of snorting,
rearing, kicking, and exclamations. Apologies, mille pardonizing,
‘et mille et mille’ were offered, when the heels of one of their
chargers passed within an inch of my knee-pan.
Powder-play was commenced by the Kaid, and some of my colleagues
became suddenly pedestrians. I think I can match any one of them
on horseback, although the pen may yield. God be praised! we parted
without injury.
An honest countryman from the village of Suanni, on passing by,
offered me his bowl of milk to drink. It was not to be refused, and
as I lifted the weighty earthen vessel to my mouth, my horse made a
slight plunge, and a copious libation gushed over my gilded armour[7]
and accoutrements.
‘Oh! what good fortune,’ shouted my escort. ‘Peace and
plenty!’ Omen the second.
Our baggage had started some time before us, and had halted at
‘Ain Dalia,’ or ‘the fountain of the vine;’ the encampment,
consisting of some thirteen tents, enlivened the scene and the wild
country around.
A camp is a pretty sight, and these people, lately enfranchised,
as it were, from their nomad life, well understand the arrangements
and economy expedient on such occasions. Our nags were soon picketed
round the tents, and the camp attendants, drawn up in line, called
down, as I approached, God’s blessing on their work, with a prayer
for a safe journey and return.
A quarrel or two, with much screaming and uttering of the
most guttural sounds, followed this momentary calm. The Moors
are children, and children will quarrel. Kaddor swore at the
Hadj’s great-great-grandmother, and the Hadj burnt all Kaddor’s
ancestors. Their friends intervened, and there was much mediation,
but peace could not be effected. My turn then came, and I said,
‘God’s curse on the devil, who causes men’s hearts to be
blackened by passion. Love each other, as God loveth you.’ So
the Hadj gave Kaddor a hearty buss, and Kaddor, with pouting lips,
kissed the Hadj’s grizzly beard, and each cursed the devil.
At coffee time I invited the Kaids and the Taleb to sip with me,
and wondrous tales ensued on their part, and in return I talked of
Stambul, its magnificence and fame.
Kaid Abd-el-Kerim informed me he commanded as ‘Kaid Erha,’
or colonel, a body of cavalry at the battle of Isly in 1844, when
Maréchal Bugeaud invaded Morocco with a force of twelve thousand
men and attacked the Sultan’s army.
Kaid Abd-el-Kerim described the strong position that Sid Mohammed,
the eldest son of Sultan Mulai Abderahman, had taken up with his
forces on the brow of a hill, and how earthworks had been thrown up,
on which field-pieces were placed, under the command of a Spanish
renegade, who had been a sergeant of artillery in Spain. ‘But,’
said the Kaid, ‘I do not consider the conflict with the French
can be called a battle.’
‘How is that?’ I inquired, ‘for the Moorish forces were routed,
the Sultan’s camp and the field-pieces taken possession of.’
‘Yes,’ said the Kaid. ‘Still I maintain it could not be
called a battle, for we never had an opportunity of a fair fight,
so as to be able to judge whether the Mussulmen or the French were
the braver warriors.’
I then asked the Kaid to describe what took place, as also his
reasons for not considering it a fair fight.
The Kaid replied: ‘When the French force first came in sight, at
a distance of about an hour’s walk (3½ miles), we observed that
neither cavalry, infantry, nor artillery were spread out—as ought
to be done—in line, before a battle. They had formed together a
compact mass like a “berod” (swarm of bees), and thus advanced
towards us without a halt, banners flying, and music playing. It
was a “fraja” (a very fine sight).
‘Sid Mohammed ordered our cavalry to advance on the plain below
the encampment, and the infantry, chiefly composed of tribes
of mountaineers, to take up their position on our flanks on the
adjoining slopes.
‘On came the French, on, on, without halting, or firing a gun,
notwithstanding that our artillery played upon them, and the tribes
kept up a running fire from the heights on each flank. On came the
French, without a pause that would give us an opportunity of a fair
fight to test the prowess of the contending forces.’
‘Explain,’ I interposed, ‘what you consider would have been
a battle.’
‘Why,’ resumed the Kaid, ‘the French force ought to have halted
when they got within half a mile; then we should have ordered a body
of cavalry to advance and charge; the French might have done likewise;
the troopers would have met, and a hand-to-hand conflict would have
ensued. Those who got worsted would have retreated; other bodies on
either side would have charged, and then likewise the infantry would
have advanced and joined in the affray. Finally, when either force
retreated, the artillery would have covered their retreat, the battle
would have been brought to a conclusion and we should have known
who were the best and bravest warriors: but no—on came the French
without a halt, and when our cavalry charged, the French infantry
fired and mowed them down, even killing with their bayonets some of
our troopers who had charged right up to the mass of French soldiers.
‘On they came; our cavalry, after repeated charges, having no
opportunity of fair fight, retreated, and so did the tribes. The
renegade fired his field-pieces as the French advanced upon our camp,
and he, as also many of the artillerymen, were killed standing at
their guns.
‘What was to be done? It was quite a surprise. Sid Mohammed
fled with all the cavalry, abandoning tents, ammunition, and many
thousand animals.
‘It was not a fair battle, and therefore I do not consider it
a defeat.’
The Taleb then gave us the following dialogue between the ‘fellah’
(farmer) Ben Taieb Zarhoni and the wise F’ki Sid Mohammed Ben Nasr.
_Ben Nasr._ ‘God has permitted the cursed Nazarenes to take
possession of Algiers, as a punishment for the sins of the Mussulmans
of that territory who had neglected to follow the precepts of our
Prophet—may God’s blessing be upon him! Ere long we Moors shall
likewise be punished for our sins and wickedness by the anger of God,
who will permit the Christians to take possession of the country of
our forefathers.’
_Zarhoni._ ‘I do not comprehend why an all-just God should punish,
without discrimination, in this manner; for, in so doing, he punishes
the innocent as well as the guilty. Why should the man who has
obeyed God’s precepts from his youth upwards, become subject to
the law of the accursed Christian because some of his brethren are
sinful? How comes it that the Deity, in His wisdom, has not found
more just ways of inflicting punishment on the guilty?’
_Ben Nasr._ ‘After the Deluge and the destruction of mankind,
Noah’s mind was troubled with the same fallacies, and he prayed
to God to enlighten him and teach him why the innocent were drowned
as well as the sinful. He was thereupon thrown into a trance, and
God sent a great number of fleas which crawled up his leg; upon one
biting him, Noah awoke and rubbed his hand over the bitten part,
killing not only the offending flea, but many others.
‘An Angel then appeared and said, “O man! Why killest thou fleas
which have not injured thee?”
‘Noah answered and said, “O Lord! These fleas are insignificant
and noxious creatures.”
‘To which the Angel replied, “As thou hast destroyed these
insects and not distinguished between the guilty and the harmless,
on account of the offence of one flea, thus also had the Almighty
ordained the Deluge for the destruction of mankind—who were,
in His sight, but noxious creatures upon earth.”
‘Noah bowed his head to the ground, and was dumb.’
_Zarhoni._ ‘If I had been Noah, I should have replied to the
Angel—“An almighty, an all-seeing God could distinguish the
guilty from the innocent: but a poor ignorant man, awaking from a
dream on being bitten by a flea, could not be expected to select
which was the offending, and which the harmless flea.”’
_Ben Nasr._ ‘It appears Noah was not so ready with a reply as
you are.’
Next we had the history of the son of Tama, who would not say
‘Enshallah’ (God willing).
‘“Say Enshallah! when you propose to make a journey or to
undertake anything: then fortune will attend you,” said the learned
F’ki Bitiwi to his young friend Selam Amu.
‘Know you not what the other day befell Abd-el-Kerim the son of
Tama the widow of the Sheikh of Amar? Hear then.
‘Abd-el-Kerim, last market day, told his mother he was going to
the Sok of Had-el-Gharbía to buy a cow.
‘The widow Tama, a devout good woman, reprimanded her son for not
adding “Enshallah.” To this Abd-el-Kerim replied, in a taunting
and blasphemous manner, that he needed not God’s assistance,
either to go to market, or to buy a cow; for, said the rash young
man, “Have I not here in the hood of my jelab more than sufficient
money for the purpose? Have I not legs to carry me to the Sok? Are
there not always cows to be sold?”
‘His mother again rebuked him, saying, “Without God’s will
and His assistance, no man can succeed in life.”
‘Abd-el-Kerim laughed at her and, shaking the money in his hood,
set off to the market which was only about an hour’s journey from
their village.
‘On reaching the river Gharifa he found it unusually swollen and
was obliged to wade more than waist deep.
‘When he reached the middle of the stream, the current was running
very strong and there came on a heavy shower of rain. Abd-el-Kerim
forgot the money in the hood of his jelab and pulled it over his
head to prevent his getting wet, and the coins fell into the river
and were lost in the mud.
‘In vain did Abd-el-Kerim dive and endeavour to recover his
money. The river was rising, the current became more rapid every
moment and he was obliged to retrace his steps and return in a
very wretched state to his village. Wet to the skin, without his
money or his cow, bitterly repenting that he had not followed his
mother’s advice, he vowed he would endeavour to be a better Moslem
in the future.
‘On entering the village, he met his cousin Husain, who, having
seen him set out in the morning for the market, inquired what brought
him back so early.
‘Oh, said Abd-el-Kerim, it has pleased God that I should not listen
to the advice of my mother, who desired me to say “Enshallah.” I
intended to have bought a cow, but God ordained I should reach the
river just as it pleased God it should begin to rain. And then it
was His will that I should forget the money in the hood of my jelab:
so I pulled the hood over my head and by God’s will it was ordained
that my money should thus be lost in the river. Now, if it please God,
I vow with God’s assistance, never to say or do anything without
asking the aid and blessing of the Almighty—Enshallah!’
Another story was that of ‘the lion and the lark.’
A lion was prowling, on a hot summer’s day, in the plains of Sahel,
and was about to tread on the nest of a lark, which was brooding
over its unfledged larklings, when the bird thus addressed the
royal beast: ‘O greatest and most powerful Sultan of the forest,
have pity on a poor bird and her helpless young!’
The lion, looking with the greatest contempt on the little lark,
replied, ‘Is it for thy wretched offspring, or for thee—despicable
bird—that I should swerve one step from my course?’ And at
the same moment he placed his paw upon the nest, and crushed the
young larks.
The mother flew up towards the heavens, wailing piteously, and
trilled out, ‘O cruel tyrant! God created me and my little ones
whom thou hast now destroyed: from His throne do I seek justice and
retribution. With Him all creatures are equal: thy strength, O lion,
in His sight, is not more regarded than my helplessness.
‘O God! I place my confidence in Thee! Thou art our Defender. Thou
art the Judge of all creatures.’
‘A curse,’ said the lion, ‘upon thy babbling tongue!’
The lark, soaring higher and higher, continued her song of lamentation
and woe; when suddenly she heard a voice from heaven, and Gabriel,
the messenger of God, thus addressed her, ‘Thy prayer, O lark,
is heard, and justice shall be done unto thee. Seek the aid of the
winged tribes, God ordains that they shall succour thee.’
The lark had hardly recovered from her astonishment at the heavenly
voice, when a falcon and a host of flies and gnats surrounded
her. The falcon addressing her said, ‘Thou seekest justice and
revenge. They shall be thine, for I am sent by Allah. The powerful
one shall be humbled and shall be made to learn God’s strength
and might; even through his humblest creatures.
‘Hark ye, O gnats! Seek the lion in his den in the thicket; torment
him with myriads of stings until he flies into the open. I shall
then pounce on his back and tear his flesh with my talons. Then—O
flies! do ye enter into the wounds in his body and fill them with
maggots and corruption. Thus shall the strong be humbled. Thus shall
those who despise God’s creatures, and who rule with wanton tyranny
over the weak, be made to know that there is no power nor strength
but in God Almighty, the Most High.’
The directions of the falcon were carried out, and the lion, tormented
by myriads of gnats, fled from his lair unto the plain. There the
falcon pounced on his back and tore his flesh. Innumerable swarms
of flies filled his body with maggots and corruption.
In a few days the tyrant of the forest, the terror of man and beast,
died in a loathsome and miserable manner.
Thus was the lark avenged.
_March 4._ Our tents were struck at daybreak. More prisoners at the
muleteer’s tent, and again I had to play mediator. The accusation
was that sufficient barley had not been provided for the soldiers’
horses. On examining the case, I found that more than enough had
been brought; but that a Kaid, who had followed us from the town
by way of compliment, was now returning and wanted to carry with
him a rich harvest from these poor people. This I put a stop to and
released the prisoners.
Crossing the line of hills called Akba el Hamra, we passed Dar Aklau,
or house of Aklau—a famous robber—and reached a wide plain
traversed by the rivers of Kholj and Hashef, in which is found much
‘shebbel[8],’ a fish like a salmon, though the flesh is white
and a most dainty dish when roasted or fried. The fisheries are a
monopoly of the Government. Here we were met by the Kaid Sheikh of
Gharbía and about seventy cavalry who, after welcoming us in the
name of the Sultan, wheeled round and headed our party.
Our place of encampment is again a well-chosen site. A ‘mona’
of sheep, fowls, shebbel, eggs, butter, bread, milk and oranges was
now brought, and a horrid cutting of throats ensued. I wish we did
not know that mutton belonged to a sheep or the wing of a fowl to
a chicken. A camp scene sadly reminds me that man is a bloodthirsty
creature.
_March 5._ Rain! Rain in torrents!
About midday we had half an hour’s fine weather, and I sallied
out in search of antiquities, and found numbers of large square
hewn stones covering the green turf. Here and there were remains
of a well-built wall—but of no height or form to enable me, in my
ignorance, to say what these ruins had been. Every appearance around
indicated the remains of a town of importance, probably Roman. The
Moors tell me that in digging they find many ruins underground. In
one place, however, called Uhara, there were the ruined remains of
what would appear to have been a castle or barrack. This the Arabs
declared to have been the palace of the Sultan of Portugal’s
daughter. It is possible that this building is Portuguese, for
they—the Portuguese—possessed all this line of country, and would
naturally select the same advantageous position for a castle as their
predecessors the Romans. The material of this building was thin flat
stones, not hewn, but apparently collected from the surface of the
soil and built with a hard cement—not mortar—as far as I could
judge. The remnant of an arched well was near the building. We also
came across what appeared to have been an amphitheatre, formed in
part by the natural rising of the ground and in part by the hand of
man. Not far from this site, some years ago, I stumbled by chance
on a much more perfect amphitheatre[9], in which were still the
steps or seats for the spectators and the dens for the wild beasts
and gladiators.
On returning to camp I found that the Sheikh of Ibdaua had
arrived with his cavalry to present his salams; but had come
empty-handed—‘not even a bowl of milk’—as I was informed by
Kaid Serbul, who has been sent by the Basha to provide ‘mona.’
So this Kaid-caterer has not allowed the Bedouin to approach my
‘Exalted Presence.’ I must, however, make friends with this
gentleman, and show him by and by, if he prove a tame Moslem, that
the Englishman is not so hard upon him as his own countrymen. A good
name is what I wish to leave amongst these poor people. Some day it
may prove of importance.
_March 7._ Starting our baggage at an early hour, so as to give time
for the animals and baggage to be taken in boats across the river,
and the tents to be pitched, we followed in the afternoon.
El Araish was soon in sight, and its fine river El Kus (the Lixus of
the ancients). The Sultan’s fleet, consisting of four dismantled
and rotten brigs, lay in this river. The captains of these vessels
hoisted their flags as I passed. A twelve-oared boat, with the
captain of the port and crew in full dress, awaited me; and two or
three boats for the horses. One of these boats, by way of compliment,
was destined to convey my horse all alone! At the port-gate was the
Governor of the town, with a guard of honour drawn up to receive
me, and in the Custom House the administrator and other authorities
welcomed us with the usual salams and compliments.
The cat is out of the bag! Every night since we have started I
have heard loud disputing and high words, in which fowls, eggs,
mutton, &c., prevailed. It appears that from the plentiful mona I
receive, a large surplus of live-stock remains, though my servants
and followers eat to their hearts’ content and are looking twice
as sleek as when they left Tangier. These sheep and fowls had been
appropriated by them without my knowledge, and sold as they thought
best, and one of the ‘Faithful’ complained to me because my
Arab secretary, Sid Ben Yahia, insisted upon having his share of
the spoil. I have put a stop to this shameless proceeding and have
let them know that, as the food is given to me by the Sultan’s
orders to be eaten, it shall be eaten and not an atom sold. So what
my friends can’t eat, David Sicsu and the Arab secretary shall;
and what they cannot, my servants shall; and what they cannot eat,
the muleteers shall devour; and what the muleteers can’t eat, the
poor shall; and what the poor can’t eat, they shall keep till they
can. I have made one or two Moors discontented by this arrangement,
but have pleased the majority: this is my aim, and to be just to all.
_March 8._ Rain again in the morning, but we made a start, and it
turned out a most delightful day. Our path was over undulating hills
of a red sandy soil, covered with rich grass, and the ‘klakh[10],’
an annual fennel-like plant, growing nine and ten feet high; the
‘silphion’ of the Greeks, producing gum ammoniac, the ‘fasogh’
of the Arabs. Here and there we passed patches of fine wheat and
barley, the latter already in the ear. It is distressing to see
this wide extent of country almost uninhabited, and its rich soil
only cultivated where the wandering Arab happens to pitch his tent;
yet capable, I should judge, of competing with any corn producing
country in Europe. There was little or no variety of scenery on the
road, and we did not meet half a dozen persons, or see _en passant_
more than two Arab ‘duars,’ till we reached the spot of our
encampment, near a limpid stream, called ‘Gla.’
_March 9._ On approaching an Arab duar, we witnessed a curious
spectacle. The Arabs were flitting, and conveying their mosque on
two mules’ backs. This place of prayer is a conical hut, about
nine feet high and five in diameter. The priest alone enters at the
time of prayer, the congregation going through their devotions in
the open air.
Our encampment we found near a lake or marsh called ‘el Kra.’
St. Leger and myself waded in up to our middles after coot and duck,
but only got a ducking and one coot.
Later, we Nazarenes sallied out to visit the Arab tents, accompanied
by Moors with sticks to keep off the dogs, which seem to have a great
dislike to the Christian, and bark their curses in as guttural sounds
as their masters. The women and children peeped at us when distant,
but scuttled into their tents as we approached, though two old Arab
hags, dressed in the dirtiest of woollen rags, held together with
large silver brooches (of the same form as the Scotch brooch made
for the plaid, and used much after the same fashion for confining
their dress at the shoulder), held their ground and scrutinised
us with witch-like eyes. One fine girl, however, took courage and
showed herself: her features were very good, and oh, such eyes!
_March 10._ Off at 7 o’clock. Delightful weather. Came in sight
of the great lake of Ras-ed-Daura, which extends some twenty-five
miles to the southward, though only three or four miles wide in the
broadest part. This lake is of fresh water, and runs parallel with the
sea-shore, but at some four or five miles’ distance, and hidden from
it by a line of hills. It swarms with duck, flamingoes, black storks,
Numidian cranes, swans, egrets, plovers, and curlew; coots in some
places blacken the water. All these birds were very wild, so that I
only succeeded in killing a few curlew. A great number of leeches are
fished from this lake: upwards of ten thousand annually. It is famous
also for a large kind of eel, which the Arabs fish for in canoes,
made of sedge, called ‘maada.’ I examined one which an Arab was
punting with a long pole, in search of coots’ and ducks’ eggs,
of which he had a plentiful supply. This boat was about seven feet
long and two broad, and made of bundles of sedge tied together, and
coming to a point for the prow. The Arabs say they can bear two men,
and cannot be sunk entirely, or even upset. As we passed several
Arab duars near the lake, troops of men were washing their clothes
at the margin; this they did with their feet, beating time to and
accompanying their labour by a grunting noise. These wild fellows
were almost naked, and finer limbs I never saw.
As we passed the Arab ‘duars,’ troops of women and children
assailed me with bowls of milk and presents of eggs, calling down a
blessing upon the Christian going on a friendly mission, with presents
to their lord the Sultan. I spoiled my dinner with all this milk,
but could not refuse the peace-offering.
In describing the ‘maada’ or sedge canoe, I should have mentioned
that the word means ferry or means of traversing. This sedge is called
by the Arabs ‘skaff,’ whence perhaps the Arabic word for a ship,
‘shkaff,’ as having been first made out of that material, and
an English word for a boat, ‘skiff’—not touching upon many
similar terms in other languages.
In the afternoon we met a party of cavalry escorting a litter,
containing the sick son of the Kaid of the tribe of Beni Hassén,
Hadj Abderahman Ben el Amri. The litter, which was borne by two
mules, halted, and Dr. Simpson visited the patient. He had been
ill for a year, and complained of nausea and want of sleep. He was
going to Tangier with a letter from the Sultan to Sid Buselham to
get European medical assistance. It is whispered that the young man
has been poisoned by his wives—often the fate of wealthy Moors who
marry many women and show more favour to one wife than another. My
Kaid tells me he has three wives, and yet can live in peace; but he
owns that he thinks it a bad practice and unjust to the ladies. He
tells me he once overheard two of his wives conversing on this
subject; one of them was complaining that man should have assumed
this right, whilst women, whatever might be their position in life,
could never have more than one husband—and that one, in most cases,
without her choice or option; adding, moreover, that she thought she
could govern or manage four men much better than any man could four
women. ‘Yes,’ exclaimed the other, ‘but God has happened to
give man greater strength than to us women, and they club together
against us and manage matters as they please. So the Prophet was
a man, and issued laws that pleased him best as a man. Then our
Sultans are all men, and our Bashas and our Kadis! What justice can
we expect? Men will support one another, and we must put up with
the third of a husband!’
After dinner I received a message from the Arabs of a village near
our camp, to say that they proposed to serenade us in honour of
the Sultan, and asking permission to perform. We consented, and
accordingly three of the villagers appeared; one with a Moorish drum
called ‘tebél,’ each of the others having a ‘ghaita’ or pipe,
which is shaped like a flageolet, but when played produces a sound
like a bagpipe. The musicians commenced by playing an air called
‘haidús’: it was a wild and lively tune, and played in good
time. Several of the Arabs and our camp-followers began to dance,
singing words which I could not comprehend.
It was a fine moonlight night, and the Arabs, men, women, and
children, assembled round the musicians and dancers. Another air was
now called for, and the ‘Hamádsha’ was played. This was very
quick and wild, but, barbarous as it seemed, there was something
most warlike and exciting in it; so much so that I could feel
my blood curdle as when I have heard a pibroch in the land o’
cakes. The Arabs commenced a dance which consisted in taking hold
of each other’s arms in a semicircle, and jumping, throwing about
the head, and making a grunting noise. The dancers, men and boys,
were wrapped in the haik, and their heads were bare. In the midst
of them was the leader of the dance, a gaunt old Arab, who, with
frantic gestures and contortions of the legs and arms, urged on the
maddening dance until the sweat rolled down in streams from their
swarthy faces. Sometimes he seized a stick, and after twirling it in
the most accomplished style of the Moorish gun dance, presented it
at our heads, and, taking fixed aim, advanced with a shuffling pace,
crying out, ‘There are the enemies! There are the enemies!’ His
eyes at the time rolled with the most savage expression, every muscle
in his body seemed to be strained to keep his aim steady. Suddenly,
when the stick was within a few inches of my nose, he made a motion as
if he had fired his gun, and leaping round, commenced the dance again.
The women, I am told, often join in these dances, but—as in our
country-dances—form a separate line from the men, advancing towards
each other with all the motion of courtship or love; which indeed
is the origin of the movements in all dances. Several Arab women had
flocked around me, and I observed two or three fine-featured girls;
one especially had a gazelle-like expression such as Arab eyes alone
can give. I asked them to dance; I begged them; but they said they
were ashamed before strangers, and my nearest companion told me
her husband was of the party, and would be jealous if she danced
before the strange Moors in the camp. She acknowledged, however,
that she could hardly refrain from joining in the dance. The music
and dancing were kept up until a very late hour, and I was so
interested and struck by the wild scene that I could not leave till
the conclusion. It appeared to excite most fiercely the Arabs and
our people.
_March 13._ The approach to Rabát is very picturesque. The town
is built on an eminence near the river side, flanked on one side by
the red-brown turreted walls of the old castle, and on the other by
the grand ruins of the ancient Mosque of Hassan, whilst above the
tomb-like houses of a glaring white, arose the tall minarets of the
Moslem’s house of prayer.
The face of affairs has changed! Disregard, neglect, and ignorance
have taken the place of kindness, honour, and goodwill. At the river,
not a boat on the part of the Government, not a messenger to receive
me. The Consular Agent, Mr. J. Serruya, a Hebrew of Gibraltar, a
good young man though not a Solomon, came to meet us in a boat he had
hired from a Portuguese vessel. I asked him the reason why the local
Government had made no preparation, as is usual, for the reception
of a Consul-General going on a mission to the Sultan. Serruya told me
that he had been three times to the Governor this morning to announce
my approach; that the Governor had promised to afford every facility
for passing the river, and to pay me the usual honours.
Hadj Abdallah Tif is the name of the Governor, and he has lately been
placed here by the Sultan to succeed Governor Zebdi, who had been
elected a few months ago by the Rabát people, when they revolted
against their former Governor E’Suizi.
The Sultan temporarily confirmed Zebdi in the post and put Suizi
in irons. Then H.S.M. came to Rabát, ‘ate up’ the town, as the
expression goes, and before his departure seized all the chiefs of
the late insurrection and their Governor-elect, and sent them in
irons to prison at Fas, nominating, though against his will, this
said Abdallah Tif as Governor. He is reported to be very wealthy and,
as he had lived a retired life and not mixed himself up in Government
affairs, had been beyond the clutches of the Sultan. It is said that
His Sherifian Majesty now awaits the first opportunity to receive
sufficient complaint against Abdallah to seize his property. Alas,
poor Morocco! poor Moors! poor Sultan! How fast you are rushing
to ruin; for as sure as there is a God in Heaven, such a system,
such iniquity, cannot thrive.
Crossing in our agent’s boat I sent my saddle-horses over in
a barge.
Half a dozen artillerymen, in no order, had been sent to meet me,
but not one of the authorities, though it is always customary for
the Governor of the town to receive the Consul at the Custom-house
on such occasions. I therefore told my interpreter to acquaint these
artillerymen that I must decline their attendance, and should pitch
my tents outside the town.
The news flew like wildfire, and I received a message to say that
the Governor had been waiting for me with the Moorish authorities
at the Custom-house. This was not true; for I had disembarked at
another port-gate, having heard from my agent that the Governor did
not intend to give me a reception.
All this indeed to me, as John Hay, is of little importance—for I
hate the miserable parade—but if a Spanish or Neapolitan Agent,
or a French Interpreter be received with these forms (as all have
ever been), it will not do to let myself, as British Representative,
be slighted. For then indeed, in this country of forms, it would be
adieu to the British name and adieu to our influence, unless great
guns were our Ambassadors. I don’t ask for more than others, but,
by Jupiter! as British Agent, no Moor or man shall slight me!
On getting the message of the Governor, I told the bearer that
I regretted having come to the wrong landing-place, but that
the mistake had been committed from no boat having been sent or
communication made to me by the Governor, when I was on the other
side of the river. I agreed, however, in order to mend matters,
to take no notice of the past and ride to the Custom-house. Some
other soldiers and artillery had now joined the first half-dozen,
and in we marched through the town, an immense crowd following.
At a narrow street I was halted and told to dismount, as the Governor
was ready to receive me. I asked if it were the Custom-house and port,
and receiving a reply in the negative, said, ‘Tell the Kaid, with my
compliments, that I cannot have the honour of making the acquaintance
of his Excellency—except at the port, as is customary.’ No answer
was given, but out bolts the Governor—ferreted from his hole, _but
supposed to be incognito_—and marches down to the Custom-house,
whilst whispers of reproach reach my ear from the Rabát people,
that the English Consul is right and their Governor a fool. I drew
in my nag to let his Excellency pass and then followed, on horseback,
till I reached the Custom-house.
The Governor had taken up his position on a plain stone seat, with
a mat on it, and his soldiers were drawn up round him. No chair or
stool was placed or offered to me; so, saluting his Excellency in
the most polite style, I accepted the seat (which was not offered
me!) next his _ungracious_ Excellency.
After the first phrases of Moorish compliment, I told Mr. Abdallah
Tif that it was with much regret I had witnessed the want of attention
and regard paid to myself, as the British Representative; mentioning,
at the same time, the honours that had been paid to me on the road
and the receptions I had met with—the established practice, from
the most ancient times, for the reception of a Consul-General bearing
letters of credence to the Sultan. As regarded myself personally,
I told the Governor, it was of no importance, nor consequence; that I
could shake hands and break the bread of friendship with the poorest
Moslem; but that as British Agent I expected to receive the attention
and honour due to me as the Representative of the ancient ally and
best friend of Morocco. The Governor begged pardon and pleaded his
recent nomination and his ignorance of former practice.
He then announced that he had prepared a house for me. This house I
knew to be in ruins, and a most wretched hole. I therefore replied
that, with his Excellency’s permission, I should pitch my tents
outside the town, that I had every comfort with me, and should be
more at my ease in my own tent than in a house. This, he said, he
dare not permit, as he would be responsible if I were insulted. I
then said, ‘I cannot accept from your Excellency the house in
which you propose to lodge me. When Monsieur Roche, the French
Interpreter, came here—accredited by his Consul and not by his
Sovereign—you lodged him in the house of Mulai Hamed, a palace
of your princes. As English Consul I ask not for such hospitality,
but I decline accepting less than what has been granted to others,
whether Spanish, Dutch, French, or of any other nation. I demand
nothing, but will accept nothing, except my due.’
The Governor finally agreed that I should go to the British Agent’s
house; the soldiers and tents to a spot fixed upon within the walls
(where, Kaid E’Susi told me, the fleas were so large that they had
ears!—meaning thereby that they were not mere insects, but animals),
and he said he would let me know in an hour’s time whether I could
have Mulai Hamed’s house. On taking leave I told the Governor
that I regretted much to have had such cause for complaining of my
treatment; that I came not to create disturbance, but to endeavour to
bind the Mussulmans and the English by stronger bonds of alliance,
friendship and good-will; but that unless that feeling were mutual,
it would prove of no avail.
I am determined to act with every moderation and prudence, but will
not be imposed upon and made the butt of low intrigue. It may yet
be all right. The Sultan’s letter shall be the mirror by which my
future conduct shall be guided.