SECOND MISSION TO MARÁKESH. 1855.
Trade in Morocco had not always laboured under the disadvantages
which existed in 1855. So far back as 1725 Sultan Mulai Abdallah
encouraged commerce by imposing a system of moderate duties, free
of all monopolies and contracts—and with regard to the garrison
of Gibraltar and the British fleet, frequently granted supplies free
of all duties.
In 1801 Great Britain entered into a commercial Treaty with
Morocco—renewed in 1845—but without any express stipulations as to
duties; the Treaty merely confirming to Great Britain all privileges
granted to Spain in a Treaty made between that country and Morocco
in 1799. Contrary, however, to the spirit of this Treaty a system had
gradually arisen of monopolies, confiscation of products, high duties,
and a constant alteration of tariffs, and the prohibition of articles
of export without any cogent reason for such prohibition being
given. A serious decline in commerce since 1801 had therefore ensued.
In pressing on the Sultan the necessity for a new Convention,
Mr. Hay pointed out that the proposals he had to make were as
much for the benefit of the Moorish Government as for that of his
own. The Sultan reigned over a country equal to any in resources,
and inhabited by a hardy and intelligent race. There was therefore
no reason, urged Mr. Hay, why, under wise direction, it should not
equal any other in prosperity. Yet, so far from being prosperous,
scarcity of coin and great poverty prevailed throughout the country.
The population of Morocco, a country as large as France, contained
a bare 7,000,000 of inhabitants as against 36,000,000 in France and
28,000,000 in Great Britain.
The sale of monopolies might have, in the first instance, increased
the revenues of H.S.M.; but any such increase could only be temporary,
and the benefits derived from the system fell to the limited number
of unscrupulous persons who obtained these concessions. The continual
alterations of the tariff were most injurious to foreign traders,
who in consequence could place no dependence on the security of a
royal mandate fixing any particular tariff. Again, the high duties
offered a premium on smuggling. Even if contraband trade could
be checked by careful precautions at all the ports, it would soon
prevail along the unguarded coasts. Once firmly established, such
a trade would be extremely difficult to check.
Mr. Hay argued that the export of grain and agricultural produce would
powerfully promote increased production. He alluded, in proof of his
argument, to various foreign countries where a large, free export
of grain had greatly extended agricultural operations. Especially
he instanced Algeria, which before the French occupation had only
produced grain and oil sufficient for home consumption; but since
then had, in addition, exported largely to France.
Mr. Hay combated the superstitious objections of the Moors to
selling food stuffs to the Nazarenes by reminding the Sultan that
his subjects were clothed in materials manufactured by Christians,
his soldiers armed and their horses shod with weapons and shoes
made of European iron, and declared that persons who argued in such
a sense were ‘rebels against God,’ since He had not denied the
Christian and the Jew any privileges granted by Him to the Moslem.
Finally Mr. Hay suggested that it would be desirable that the
advantages of such a Convention should be shared by other Powers in
common with Great Britain, and ventured to warn the Sultan that a
Treaty of Commerce made in time of peace by a friendly Power would
be preferable to the risk of having to make such a Treaty at a more
critical moment, when the opportunity might arise for one of the
Powers to enforce its demands; for assuredly the present Convention
would not be renewed under its old conditions.
It was to press upon the Moorish Government the advisability of a
Commercial Convention on the lines above indicated, that, in 1855,
by the direction of the British Government, Mr. Hay left Tangier for
Marákesh. The mission set out in March, 1855. On his way Mr. Hay
everywhere met with a courteous reception. Azamor, however, a town
contiguous to Rabát, proved an exception. There he experienced very
different treatment.
Kaid Ben Tahir, he writes, Governor of Azamor—a great
fanatic—hated the sight of Europeans, but in pursuance of express
orders received from the Sultan, came out with the chief officials
of Azamor and some troops to meet me some distance from the town
and conducted me to our camp.
The following day, according to etiquette, I called on the Kaid
at his residence. As I entered the porch, the ‘m’haznía’
(military guards), about forty in number—instead of being drawn
up standing in line to receive me—were squatting on the ground,
forming a double rank, reaching close to the kiosk in which the
Governor was seated, thus leaving only a narrow passage for me to
pass through. Some even had their legs sprawled out in my way. These
I trod upon heavily, or kicked aside, much to their dismay.
The Governor, who was seated, counting the beads of a rosary, on a
small divan, remained seated as I approached, without attempting to
rise or salute me; neither had he any chair or other resting-place to
offer me, and merely held out his hand saying ‘You are welcome.’
Taking his hand with a firm grip I lifted him gently from his divan
and said, ‘I am glad to see you.’ When I got his astonished
Excellency well on his legs, I wheeled him round suddenly and dropped
on the middle of the divan where he had been seated, leaving him
standing.
Kaid Ben Tahir looked bewildered, gazed first at me and then at his
guards, and I think was still meditating whether to bolt or to call
his scowling attendants to seize and bastinado me, when I addressed
him—‘How thoughtful and attentive of you to have prepared this
comfortable divan for me to sit upon without providing for yourself
a chair or even a stool where you could sit to entertain me.’
He murmured, ‘The divan is my seat.’
‘Ah!’ I said, ‘So you intended to remain seated whilst the
Representative of the greatest Sovereign in the world, accredited
to your Lord the Sultan as Envoy, came to call on you! How do you
like the position in which you desired to place me? I shall report
your conduct to the Sultan, as also the behaviour of your guards,
for I consider your and their conduct a marked insult.’
Kaid Ben Tahir faltered out, ‘I have erred through ignorance. You
are the first European Representative whom I have received and I
never offer a seat to Moorish officials who call upon me—I ask
your pardon.’
Moving a little aside on the divan, I said, ‘Come, there is room
for us both to sit down and I hope we shall be able to understand
each other.’
The Governor sat down and we made friends, so I told him I should
not report the occurrence to his Lord and Master the Sultan.
As I left, he rose and accompanied me to the threshold, the guards
were all standing at attention, looking aghast at the Nazarene
who had treated their tyrannical master with such ignominy; but
the chief Kaid (or captain of the guard) whispered, as I passed,
‘Andek el hak’ (you are right), ‘respect is due to the Envoy
sent to our Lord the Sultan.’
Further on the way to Marákesh Mr. Hay traversed the province of
Shawía, where a curious incident of a more pleasing character took
place, which he describes as follows.
Orders had been given by the Sultan that the Governor of each
province through which we passed should meet the Mission with a body
of cavalry, and escort us until we were met by the Governor of the
adjoining province.
I found these ceremonial meetings very tedious, so frequently left my
Tangier escort and, taking a man on foot to carry my gun, wandered
from the beaten track towards the next encampment, in pursuit of
game. As I was clad on such occasions in shooting attire, an ample
cloth cloak was borne by one of the troopers of my escort, and
this I donned when a Basha or other officer came in sight. ‘Buena
capa, todo tapa’ (‘a good cloak covers all’)—the Spaniards
say—and as the Moorish officials present themselves with their
followers on these occasions, _en grande tenue_, it was not seemly
that the British Representative should have the appearance of a
second-class gamekeeper.
One morning, whilst thus shooting in a field of corn, the man who
was leading my horse came running to say he could see within half
a mile the Governor of Shawía, with a body of cavalry, approaching.
Mounting my nag, I directed him to call the trooper who carried my
cloak—but he could not be found.
As the Governor approached, riding with his Khalífa
(Lieutenant-Governor) and two sons in front of the Arab cavalry,
who formed two lines, I observed the chief was beautifully dressed,
as were also his followers, and their horses richly caparisoned.
They advanced till within fifty yards of where I had taken my stand,
for, as my Queen’s Representative, I always required that these
Governors should, according to Moorish etiquette on encountering a
superior, advance first towards me, and when within a few yards I
would move forward to meet them.
The Governor had halted, waiting for me to approach, so I directed
my attendant to say that I was very desirous to have the pleasure
of making his acquaintance, therefore would the Governor come forward.
This staggered the great man, who, for the first time during his
Governorship, had been sent to meet a European Envoy, and I overheard
the following dialogue:—
_My Attendant._ ‘The Envoy says that he will have much pleasure
in making your Excellency’s acquaintance, if you will have the
goodness to approach.’
_Governor Reshid._ ‘Is that shabbily-clad Nazarene, whom I see
mounted on a “kida” (pack horse), the Envoy, and does he expect
me to go to him?’
_Attendant._ ‘Yes, my Lord.’
‘Mashallah!’ exclaimed the Governor, and spurring his horse rather
angrily, which made it bound forward, curvetting, he approached and
held out his hand.
I then advanced also, and we shook hands. The Governor, looking
rather amazed at my appearance, bid me welcome in flowery language,
and, placing me between himself and his Khalífa, we commenced the
march towards the camp, which he informed me was distant about a
two hours’ ride.
Kaid Reshid was dressed in a caftan of pale unicoloured cloth,
embroidered in silk, over which hung gracefully a transparent white
‘haik’; a fez and huge turban covered his head. The red saddle
on which he rode, and the horse’s breastplate, were beautifully
embroidered in gold on red velvet. The bridle and trappings were of
red silk, also embroidered with gold. His massive iron stirrups were
engraved in gold arabesques. By his side walked a slave carrying a
long Moorish gun.
The Kaid was a handsome man, with Caucasian features, complexion
olive, but not darker than that of the inhabitants of Southern
Europe. He kept eyeing me and my horse from head to foot. After
a pause he addressed me in polite language, though evidently much
amused at my shabby appearance and English saddle, and said, ‘I
am sure our Lord the Sultan will present you with a better horse to
replace the “kida” you are now riding.’
As the Moors are generally big men, horses below 15 hands are not used
by the cavalry; and Bashas, Kaids, and other officers ride horses
standing about 16 hands. My mount was a small Barb of about 14.2,
well bred and very fast. Ponies of this size are called ‘kidas,’
and are never used as saddle-horses, but merely as pack animals.
‘I thank you much, Kaid Reshid,’ I replied, ‘for your good
wishes that I may enjoy the favour of the Sultan. Allow me to tell
you that, from the moment I had the pleasure of riding alongside of
your magnificent charger, I have been wrapt in admiration both of
your own appearance and of the trappings of your high-bred steed,
reminding me of the paintings and sculptures I have seen of the
ancient people of the East and of the early Christians.’
With a haughty, angry expression, Kaid Reshid replied, ‘Are you
mocking me, saying I am like a Nazarene? What resemblance can there
be between us Mussulmans and the Románi[29]?’
‘I said not that your appearance resembled that of the modern, but
of the ancient Christian. The graceful, flowing robes you now wear,
are like those depicted in pictures of the early Christians. Your
“haik”—a garment without seam—is such as it is described
our Saviour, “Sidna Aisa” (our Lord Jesus), whom you call the
“Spirit of God,” wore on earth. Your saddle and stirrups are
precisely of the form of those which Christians used in early times,
and even two centuries ago, before the invention of fire-arms,
when the lance was their chief weapon on horseback. Your bridle
and the trappings about the neck of your horse are precisely those
I have seen depicted in ancient Greek sculptures. Know you not,
Basha, by the respective dates of the Christian and Mohammedan
era, that the former are the more ancient people who believe in
God Almighty? The Christian as well as the Mohammedan religion,
and I may add, art and science came from the East. It is no shame,
therefore, that your costume should be like unto that of the early
Christians. As to my present garb, I gather from your expression
that you find it very uncouth as compared with that of the Moslem;
and my saddle and bridle no doubt appear to you scrimp and mean;
but Europeans, when they progressed in warfare and manufactures,
cast aside the flowing robes, which encumbered their movements, and
adopted this tight-fitting clothing, by which they obtain greater
freedom for the use of their limbs. They found the saddle, such as the
Moslem now uses, too heavy, and that the breastplate, large stirrups,
&c., needlessly overweighted the horse and hindered his speed. I
am not surprised you regard with contempt my “kida,” and that
you express a hope the Sultan may give me a better mount. Now, in
order that I may give you proof of the truth of what I have said, I
challenge the best horseman you have amongst your chiefs to race with
me to yonder rock in our path (about a quarter of a mile distant),
go round it, and return to you. I see the Khalífa and your sons
are mounted on magnificent steeds—I challenge them.’
One of the Basha’s sons spurred his horse angrily, so that it reared
and curvetted, and said, ‘Oh! my father, the Envoy is making fun
of us.’
‘No,’ I replied, ‘that is not my intention. Let us have the
race, and I swear that if this “kida” does not win, I dismount
and make it a present to the winner.’
‘The Envoy is in earnest,’ said Kaid Reshid, and, turning to his
sons and the Khalífa, added, ‘You are to gallop to that rock,
go round it, and return. Whoever reaches me first wins. I remain
here with the troops in line.’
Our four horses were placed in a row, and at a signal from the Basha
we all started. My three opponents dashed off at full speed, ramming
in their long spurs till the blood streamed, whilst I held in hand
my swift little nag, riding about six yards behind one of the sons,
who, turning round as we galloped, and holding out his hand, said,
‘Shall I help you along?’ I laughed and replied, ‘Thanks,
I am coming.’
As we approached the rock I closed on them and my nag, having a good
mouth, turned sharply round it and we were all four abreast, their
horses being much blown as they had been ridden at full speed. I
had no spurs, but merely pressing my little Barb and giving him
his head drew well in front, leaving the three horses twenty yards
behind and had time to reach the Basha, wheel round by his side and
see them finish, spurring furiously.
‘The Envoy has won,’ said the Basha, with a dejected countenance.
‘Yes,’ said one of his sons, who was second in the race. ‘He
has deceived us. That animal he rides is no doubt a Saharáwi (a
horse from the Sahara desert), who has been bought for his weight
in gold, or sent him by the Sultan as a “Shrab Reb[30].”’
‘You are mistaken, my friends,’ I replied. ‘This “kida” is
not a Saharáwi horse; he was bought by me in the market at Tangier
for $22 (£4 8_s._), when he was two years old. He was then like
a sack of bones, but, as you see, has capital points. My saddle
and bridle are light compared with yours and do not encumber his
movements. He is too in good training, being the horse I usually
hunt.’
Along the line of troopers there was much excitement and talking,
but many of them looked very troubled and dejected.
‘Can you use your gun on horseback?’ inquired the Basha. ‘Can
you shoot a bird or animal?’
I replied that I did not often shoot from the saddle at a bird on
the wing; but that I could do so, as my nag stood fire capitally.
The Basha then requested me to shoot from my horse any game that might
be started. The cavalry formed a long line—we were riding over a
stony plain, clad with grass and other herbage. The day was very hot;
game therefore lay close, and every now and then partridges or other
birds rose, but were too far for me to shoot. At length, fortunately,
a ‘hobar,’ or great bustard, rose about twenty-five yards off. I
put my horse at a gallop, and before the huge bird could get into
full swing to soar away, I was beneath it and brought it down.
A shout of admiration was raised by all the troopers, and their
shrill cries of joy were repeated, as I also had the good fortune
to knock over a partridge which happened to rise immediately after
I had reined in my horse.
The Basha came up, holding out his hand and shook mine warmly,
saying, ‘You have won our hearts. All you have said about dress,
horse, &c., you have proved to be true. God forbid that we should
ever have to fight against warriors like yourself.’
I replied that neither as a horseman nor as a marksman could I
compare myself with many of my countrymen, and that I felt persuaded
if only the Moors would adopt the saddles and firearms of Europeans,
they would not only be able to do all that we could, but that, as
a grand race of men, blessed by God with muscular power and great
intelligence, they might surpass us, as their forefathers had done
in Spain a few centuries ago, when they taught the world literature,
science, and warfare.
The Basha and I became great friends. He invited me to his tent,
where he had prepared a feast. Many of the chiefs crowded round me
when I dismounted and asked to shake hands with me. They examined
my horse, saddle, and bridle with interest.
The Basha and I had a long conversation, and I told him of the
wonders of Christendom. Before we parted next day, when we were
about to meet the Governor of Dukála, I put on my fine cloak, and
told Kaid Reshid that it was the garment I had intended to have worn
the day we met, and thus to have hidden beneath its folds myself and
my ‘kida,’ but that the trooper who should have attended me had
failed to accompany me.
‘It is better as it happened,’ said the good-natured Basha,
‘we have learnt much and part good friends. You have taught me
and my followers a lesson we shall never forget.’
On March 18 Mr. Hay reached Marákesh, and writes to his wife ‘I
do not despair of doing some good, but shall have up-hill work.’
Days passed, still the promised interview with the Sultan had not
been suggested.
Here we are still, and have not yet seen the Sultan, but expect the
audience to-morrow.
I have had some disagreeable business, even been compelled to return
the Minister’s letters. They have conceded some of the points I
had demanded regarding etiquette, though little is gained towards
the negotiations; but without proper respect in form we could never
get any result in deeds.
We are all well, but rather tired of waiting here. Our weather is
beautiful and not too hot. We have been amusing ourselves with sights
of dwarfs, snake charmers, and a stone that talked (ventriloquism)
and told me I had two little girls in Tangier, &c.!
If I have the audience to-morrow I shall try and push on the
negotiation and hope in three weeks to set off again.
It was while he was thus waiting at the Moorish Court that Mr. Hay
witnessed a curious performance of the ‘Hamadsha,’ a sect
which in some respects resembles that of the Aisawa—or snake
charmers—described in _Western Barbary_. The origin of this sect
is remote and obscure, and probably its rites date from pagan times.
The Hamadsha, like the Aisawa, have a curious dance of their own; but
the votaries of the former sect, unlike the Aisawa, cut themselves
with knives and hatchets, run swords into various parts of their
persons, and generally mutilate themselves when under the excitement
of their fanatical rites. A large iron ball is carried in their
processions, and this is constantly thrown in the air and caught on
the heads of the Hamadsha as it falls. The dances of this sect are
accompanied by ‘ghaiatta’ (pipes) and curious drums in the form
of large earthenware cylinders with skin stretched over one end,
that give out when struck a peculiarly pleasant, deep note. These
drums are borne on one shoulder and beaten in that position by the
bearer. Like the Aisawa, they dance in a circle, linked closely
together by placing each an arm over the next man’s neck. Their
Sheikh and fugleman stands with the musicians in the centre of the
circle and directs their movements, as they jump in the air, rocking
their bodies forward with a peculiar sidelong stamp of their feet.
No doubt these Hamadsha are more or less under the influence of
‘majun’ (a preparation of hemp), but there is also little doubt
that the votaries of the sect are carried away by excitement when
they hear the sound of the drums, or see their fellows jumping,
and Mr. Hay related the following anecdote of what occurred at one
of these performances when a passing body of Hamadsha entered the
precincts of the house where the Mission was quartered.
Mr. Hay and his friends assembled in an upper gallery to watch
the curious rites of the sect in the courtyard below, where were
gathered the native attendants and the escort with their Kaid,
a grave, elderly man, always scrupulously attired in rich clothing
and of an obese habit, being much addicted to ‘siksu.’
The Hamadsha, in a closely woven circle, gyrated and rocked to the
sound of their sonorous drums, much to the delight of the natives,
but somewhat to the perturbation of the Kaid, who, it appeared,
was himself a member of the sect. The respectable old gentleman,
reclining on his cushioned divan, presently sat up straight and
gravely nodded his head in time to the beat of the drums. The music
quickened. The Kaid’s agitation increased; unconsciously his body
swayed in time to the movements of the Hamadsha.
Quicker and yet quicker moved the measure of the drums. The Kaid
dashed aside his turban, exposing his bare skull. A few more moments
passed and the strain became too great: the fat commander leapt to
his feet, and, casting his garments from him, naked to the waist,
he joined the circling, rocking fanatics.
At one side of the courtyard, near a fountain which spouted from the
wall, were placed several monster earthen jars, intended for keeping
drinking water clear and sweet. After jumping with his fellows for
a short time, the Kaid cast his eye on these and, springing aside
he seized one of them, and pitched it into the air, catching it
as it fell on his shaven crown where it was dashed to pieces. He
would have proceeded to do the same with the remaining jars, had not
Mr. Hay called out and protested against further destruction. The
Kaid therefore returned to his exercise of jumping till he was
exhausted; when he retreated to another fountain, which spouted in
a marble basin in the middle of the court, and sat on the top of it,
in the midst of the spray, until cooled after his exertions.
Delay after delay occurred, and a man less experienced than Mr. Hay
in the dilatory tactics of the Moslem might have been baffled
by the ‘feather-bed resistance’ that encountered him at every
turn. Again and again he writes to his wife in the same strain, ‘I
do not despair of doing some good, but there are some sad rascals
here.’ ‘I am riding them with a tight hand and spurs. What a
faithless set they are.’ And after an even more discouraging day
than usual, he comes to the conclusion that ‘In Morocco a man can
be certain of nothing.’
Of the ignorance, combined with cunning, of the generality of Moorish
officials, Mr. Hay frequently related the following story.
On this Mission to the Court of Morocco, he took with him a large map
of Great Britain, her possessions and colonies, also maps of France,
Germany, &c., as a present to the Uzir, with the idea of impressing
that functionary with the extent and importance of the British Empire.
Having presented them to the Uzir, he proceeded to explain the
different maps, and proved, as he thought, to that dignitary, the
fact that our Sultana reigned over the largest territories and was
therefore the greatest Sovereign in the world.
‘Sebarkallah,’ said the Uzir, ‘God is great. And you say all
these countries belong to Great Britain?’
‘Yes,’ replied Mr. Hay, ‘Our Queen rules over them all.’
The Uzir stroked his beard, considered for a while and
resumed, ‘These are very beautiful maps. Where was that one
made?’—pointing, as he spoke, to the map of Great Britain and
her foreign possessions.
‘In London,’ was the reply, ‘and it has received the approval
of the British Government.’
‘Ah,’ said the Uzir, ‘if _we_ made a map of Morocco, we might
also make out, on paper, that we possessed immense territories!’
At last, however, Mr. Hay’s resolution triumphed over all obstacles.
‘Thank God,’ he writes to his wife from the camp at El Kántara
on April 18, just a month after his arrival, ‘we have started from
Marákesh. The Sultan has requested us to remain here the first night;
but to-morrow we move on a good day’s journey, and please God we
shall reach Tangier on the sixteenth day. I am altogether pleased with
the result of my mission. I have, _entre nous_, obtained one thousand
oxen annually for our troops, in addition to the two thousand which
are now exported, and also the abolition of the monopoly of sale
of oxen. The negotiation of the Treaty is to be commenced in a few
months; in the meantime some reforms are to be brought forward. The
basis of the Treaty, which is abolition of monopolies and reduction
of duties, is acknowledged; but time is to be given for these slow
folk to make alterations in the fiscal system.
‘Apologies have been made for past folly and discourtesy. Everything
done to please. A number of small affairs have been arranged. The
Sultan gave me an audience yesterday to take leave and was most
kind.’
Yet early in the following year H.S.M. repudiated his engagements.
‘Only think,’ Mr. Hay writes in January, 1856, ‘of this
Government, after all its solemn engagements to me at the Moorish
Court, pretending now to ignore all that has passed and been
_promised_. I have been compelled to enter a protest against them;
which has been done in the presence of all my colleagues. Forty
days are given to the Sultan to act up to his engagement, and
then, _nous verrons_ if these barbarians think they can _lie_ with
impunity. After my experience of the past and of various affairs,
I expect that, as naughty people say of the ladies, though always
denying and refusing to accede, they will give way even when so
doing. “_Vederemos_.”’
Six months later he is still engaged in negotiating the Treaty with
Sid Mohammed Khatíb, the special Commissioner appointed to draw
up the Treaty. He writes on July 11, 1856, to his wife who had left
for England:—
Another letter from Khatíb making fair promises, but treaties are
_in statû quo_. Next week, or about the end of the month, I think we
must be at Tetuan to sign, or else tell the Sultan he is a liar. The
cholera is about over. I shall do my best to get home in August,
for Tangier is a dreary hole to be alone in.
But his hopes were premature. On August 10, he writes again:—
I give up all hope of coming home this year, for I have fresh
trouble. After all my labour in settling the Treaty with Khatíb,
the Sultan refuses to ratify what his own Plenipotentiary agreed
to! And he puts forward fresh propositions.
I go to Tetuan in one of Her Majesty’s steamers as soon as the
wind changes, to see Khatíb, and perhaps shall touch at other ports
in Morocco.
Ten days later, the goal was still distant.
Tangier, _August 21_, 1856.
Since I last wrote I have been to Tetuan in H.M.S. Vesuvius; not,
alas! to sign the Treaty, but solely to discuss the fresh and stupid
propositions put forward by this Government. It is not impossible
that I may have to make a trip to Mogador and the other ports; if so,
of course I shall go by sea.
Khatíb expects the Sultan will give way after the present
reference. I am less sanguine and am heartily tired of Moorish
trickery.
Khatíb was excessively civil, and had prepared me a nice house,
with a garden, in the Moorish quarter. The house was furnished
splendidly in the Moorish style. The walls covered with velvet
hangings embroidered in gold; Persian carpets covered the floor. There
was also a magnificent brass bedstead with damask and gold hangings.
I took our cook with us, but Khatíb provided some excellent Moorish
dishes, and all kinds of delicacies and sweets. During my stay he
insisted on coming to my dwelling for the conference instead of my
going to him. I only stayed a couple of days.
I am now so busy that time passes most rapidly.
Sid Mohammed Khatíb resided at Tetuan, and was one of the Moors who
are descendants of those expelled from Spain. He owned Boabdil’s
sword, until it was taken from his house in Tetuan during the
occupation of that town by the Spaniards. He also possessed the
title-deeds of his ancestors’ property in Granada and the ancient
key of their house in that city.
After the Spanish war, Khatíb was appointed Minister for Foreign
Affairs, to reside at Tangier, and during the years he held office
Mr. Hay found him always upright and honest, and ready in every way
to promote any reform or improvement in the system of Government
in Morocco; but after some years, he obtained permission from the
Sultan to retire, because, as he told Mr. Hay, he found the work too
hopeless, fighting against the constant intrigues and ignorance of
the Sultan’s Ministers, and that he was too old for such a task.
In October, a couple of months later, Mr. Hay writes:—‘Final
orders have been sent by the Sultan to conclude the new stipulations;
things are being smoothed and I do not go to the Court again.’
So his efforts had at last been crowned with success, and though
Sultan Mulai Abderahman, adhering to the retrograde policy of his
forefathers, had thrown constant obstacles in the path of reform
advocated by Mr. Hay, the latter had certainly won the esteem of this
potentate. Of this esteem the Sultan gave the strongest proof by
requesting him to take charge of the conduct of Foreign Affairs on
behalf of the Moorish Government, and with the view of inducing him
to do so, engaged that he would abide by Mr. Hay’s decision in all
questions with Foreign Governments. But as Mr. Hay knew that such an
office would raise the greatest jealousy and objection on the part
of several Foreign Governments, he declined—even before reporting
to Her Majesty’s Government the offer that had been made to him.
According to the Treaty ratified by the Sultan in December 1856, Her
Britannic Majesty acquired the right to appoint one or more Consuls
in His Sherifian Majesty’s dominions. They were to be inviolable
in house or person, and to have the right to establish a place of
worship under the protection of the British flag.
British subjects were to enjoy the right to pass through or reside
in any part of the Sultan’s dominions. They were to have the
right of hiring houses and to claim the assistance of the Moorish
authorities in so doing. They were to be exempt from all taxes or
impositions whatever; from all military service by land or sea, from
forced loans and from all forced contributions. Their dwellings were
to be respected, no arbitrary searches or examination of books and
papers were to be permitted, except with the consent of the Consul
or Consul-General.
All criminal causes and all civil differences between British
subjects were to be decided by the Consul without any interference
on the part of the Moorish authorities. In cases between a Moor and
a British subject, the matter was to be referred to the authorities
of the country to which the defendant belonged; if a Moor, the trial
was to take place before the Kadi, the British Consul being present;
if a British subject, before the Consul, the Governor or Kadi being
present. The Consul-General and the Moorish Minister for Foreign
Affairs were constituted judges in the last resort—as a Court
of Appeal.
Provision was also made in case of war between the two Powers for
the security and protection of the interests of their subjects.
The commercial advantages gained were, amongst others, the abolition
of monopolies—hitherto a crying evil—on most articles of trade,
and the right to export, under fixed and more reasonable duties,
most of the products of the Empire. The Sultan, however, reserved
the right to grant or withdraw permission to export grain.
By an article in the new Treaty, the Sultan was also bound to repress
and punish piracy, and to aid Her Majesty’s Government in their
efforts to do the same.
This convention was hailed with much satisfaction by British
merchants, and was eventually adopted by all other nations. Mr. Hay
received, in July 1857, a deputation from the Gibraltar Chamber of
Commerce, who expressed their gratitude for his ‘unwearied efforts
on behalf of trade, and for the prompt and courteous manner in which
he invariably treated any representations made by that body.’
The Queen was pleased to make Mr. Hay a C.B. on the conclusion of
his labours in connexion with this Treaty.