FOURTH MISSION TO MARÁKESH. 1872.
In 1872 Sir John was made Minister Plenipotentiary. This mark of
confidence on the part of Her Majesty’s Government was the more
acceptable as he had recently been attacked in the English press. The
most important of these attacks appeared in the _Spectator_,
which however afterwards withdrew its charges unreservedly. Unjust
accusations of this nature affected him only for the moment, when his
quick and passionate spirit would fire up under misrepresentation,
for, as he writes: ‘I was lugged out of my little corner and set
on a pedestal to be pelted with dirt—now replaced by bouquets. I
am getting callous to abuse. “Fais ce que dois, advienne que
pourra.”’
In a letter dated September 27, 1872, to Sir Joseph Hooker,
he says:—
They have made me Minister Plenipotentiary, and I am to go to the
Moorish Court to present my new credentials during the winter. The
Sultan is at Marákesh, or will be there when he has ‘eaten
up’ a rebel tribe or two. I do not remain permanently; in fact,
I should decline to do so, though I hope the day will come when we
shall have the British Representative resident at the fountain-head,
and thus alone can we hope that the turbid waters may begin to clear.
On March 25, 1873, Sir John, four ladies, and seven gentlemen embarked
on board H.M.S. Lively for Mazagan, _en route_ for Marákesh. Mazagan,
which was reached the following forenoon, has a picturesque appearance
from the sea; but of itself is an uninteresting town. The country
surrounding it is flat and sandy, with only a few palm-trees and
the cupolas of scattered sanctuaries, or saint-houses, to relieve
the monotony of the scenery.
The entrance to the landing-place was by a passage through a curious
old Portuguese breakwater, repaired some years previously by the
Moorish Government at Sir John’s instigation. On landing under
the customary salute, Sir John was welcomed by the Governor and
authorities, who conducted him to the dwelling prepared for the
Mission,—a house standing on what had been, during the occupation
of Mazagan by the Portuguese in the seventeenth century, the site
of a church. Its steeple, now used as a belvedere, is still standing.
The Sultan had sent a liberal supply of saddle and baggage animals,
and a few extra tents of handsome Moorish make, lined and decorated
within in different coloured cloths. With these were a body of a
dozen ‘fraijia,’ tent-pitchers, attached to his army. These men
proved most efficient and did their work smartly and thoroughly. They
were all, without exception, Bokhári.
The Mission left Mazagan early on the 28th. The escort consisted of
a Kaid Erha and seven officers, with some thirty troopers. ‘Kaid
Erha,’ it may be explained, means ‘the Commander of a Mill,’ as,
during campaigns in Morocco, a hand-mill for grinding corn is allotted
to every thousand men. Hence the title of Kaid Erha given to every
officer in command of a thousand. Kaid el Mia, or Kaid of a hundred,
is the next grade, corresponding to the centurion of the Romans.
Besides this escort, Sir John had with him his own faithful body-guard
of half a dozen men chosen from amongst the Suanni hunters, men upon
whom he could depend in any emergency.
There was no important departure on the journey to Marákesh from
the routine observed on entering the successive provinces. On each
occasion the ‘Bashador’ was received by the Governor or Khalífa
with an escort varying in number, according to the strength and
importance of the province, from about twenty-five to a hundred men,
who invariably indulged in a prolonged display of ‘lab el barod,’
with the inevitable concomitants of dust, noise, and delay. Each
evening too, on arrival in camp, supplies of food in the form of
‘mona’ were brought and presented with the usual formalities. The
Sheikh offered the ‘mona’ in the name of the Sultan, and Sir
John always made a little speech of thanks to the donors.
The route followed for the next two days lay in a south-west
direction, over an undulating country cultivated with wheat, barley,
beans, and maize; and men were ploughing with oxen, or sometimes even
with a camel and donkey yoked together. A little girl followed each
plough dropping ‘dra,’ or millet-seed, into the furrows. Maize is
one of the chiefs exports, since the prohibition of its exportation
was removed at the instance of Sir John in 1871. The soil was a rich,
dark, sandy loam, thickly studded with limestones: these had, in
some parts, been removed and piled up, forming rubble walls round
the crops. Fig-trees and a few palms, scattered here and there,
scarcely relieved the flatness of the landscape.
On entering the hilly country of Erhamna on April 2, two horsemen of
Dukála, with a couple of falcons, joined the cavalcade. They told
Sir John that they had received orders from the Sultan to show him
some sport; but they expressed their fear that the birds would not
strike the game, as it was the moulting season and they were not in
good feather.
A line of horsemen was formed, and, after riding half an hour, a
‘kairwan’ or stone plover was started. The falcon was thrown up,
and soon stooped but missed her quarry. The plover seemed so paralysed
by the attack that it settled in the grass, and was only compelled
with difficulty by the horsemen to rise. In the second flight the
falcon struck the plover, whose throat was cut, and the hawk was
given a few drops of blood. Another trial was made, but the hawks
seemed dull, and only came back and lighted near their masters. The
falconers therefore were dismissed with a gift and many thanks. Thus
the hopes we had entertained of finding a great bustard and pursuing
it with the falcons was not realised, as none were met with. But,
on the return of the sportsmen to the regular track, Miss A. Hay,
who had remained near Lady Hay’s litter, informed them that she had
seen several of these gigantic birds, which had crossed their path.
Hunting with falcons is in Morocco a Royal sport, and no subject of
the Sultan, unless he be a member of the Royal family, can hunt with
them, without being especially granted the privilege. A few years
before this, the Sultan sent Sir John a gift of two falcons—and
with them a falconer, capable of catching and training others,
to instruct him in the sport. The novelty proved interesting for a
time; but in comparison with pig-sticking, coursing and shooting,
it was found wanting, and the falcons soon ceased to be more than
mere pets at the Legation.
Sir John, who was a great admirer of these birds, used to relate the
following legend and its curious verification in his own personal
experience.
There is a legend that no one of the name of Hay should kill or
injure a falcon. The tradition is founded on the following tale.
At the battle of Loncarty in 980 the Danish army was certainly
routed by the Scots. Yet, at the commencement of this battle,
the Danes had been victorious and drove the Scots before them,
pell mell, towards a narrow pass. Here three stalwart Highlanders,
a father and his two sons, had taken their stand and rallied their
fugitive countrymen. Then, placing themselves at their head, they
led them in an onslaught on the Danes, whom they routed.
Afterwards, the King of the Scots, Kenneth III, sent for the three
men, and, learning from them that they—who were farmers—had been
occupied in ploughing when they saw the Scots in retreat, and then
joined in the fray, he exclaimed, ‘Henceforward you shall be called
Garadh!’ which in Gaelic signifies bulwark or fence. Later this name
was transformed to De la Haye by members of the family who emigrated
to Normandy and, establishing themselves there, joined the Conqueror
when he came to England. Subsequently it was modified into Hay.
King Kenneth ennobled Garadh, and offered him a grant of land of
his own selection. Garadh prayed the King to grant him whatever
land his falcon might traverse, till it alighted, if thrown off at
Loncarty. His prayer was granted. The falcon flew from Loncarty and
alighted on the Carse of Gowry—as indeed might have been expected,
since Garadh was wont to hunt with falcons and frequently fed his
birds on that height. This large property was long held by the Hay
family, but the greater part passed into other hands during the
last century.
My father, who told me this legend, added a caution against ever
injuring the bird which had brought good fortune to the family,
and I bore it in mind, and never fired a shot at any falcon, until
one day I received a letter from a naturalist in England, requesting
me to find some person who would aid him in making a collection of
specimens of birds of prey, as he knew that these birds migrated
northwards in the month of March—when the wind blows from the
east—passing from Morocco, across the Straits, to the Spanish
coast, and selecting generally for the point of their departure
the Marshan—a plateau within a quarter of a mile of Tangier. From
here I have seen hundreds of birds of prey, eagles, falcons, hawks,
kestrels, kites and buzzards cross the Straits during the month of
March, flying against the east wind.
Being desirous of meeting the wishes of my friend the naturalist,
I selected a spot on the Marshan, where, in a dilapidated battery,
were three or four dismounted guns, presented by King George IV to
a former Sultan. Here, ensconced between two of the guns, I waited
the passage of the birds and shot several kites, buzzards, kestrels
and other hawks; but at first, true to my rule, spared the falcons.
It was in the days of muzzle-loaders with copper caps, and I was
not using a gun of English make.
At last, seeing a fine falcon flying towards me, I said to myself,
‘What folly to believe in such silly old-womanish nonsense as that
a Hay must not injure a falcon—I shall test the truth of the legend
by firing at one.’
The bird came towards me, I fired: the gun burst at the breech, the
right-hand nipple flew out, grazing my forehead near my right eye,
and my wrist was burnt. I threw down the gun, exclaiming, ‘Thank
God I was not killed! Henceforward I am a believer.’
The falcon was only slightly wounded; some few feathers fell from
the poor bird, and it continued its flight. Had it been killed,
I suppose I should not have lived to tell this story!
Two days later, the party crossed the Beheira u el Gintsor,
a district which, twenty years ago, was uninhabited and full of
gazelles, great bustard, and other game. But the present Sultan had
punished a rebellious tribe by removing them from a rich land and
quartering them on this barren plateau. It is now full of cattle,
and patches of cultivation were to be seen here and there.
The Arabs of the district brought some greyhounds, for the purpose
of hunting hare; but the attempt at sport proved a failure. Amongst
these dogs were two of the native rough-coated breed, which much
resemble the Scotch deer-hound, or sleugh-hound. Curiously enough,
the Arabic word for greyhound (in Morocco) is slogi or sloki—plural
slak. These particular dogs were poor and stunted in appearance,
but sometimes handsome specimens are met with. They are supposed to
be endowed with great powers of endurance.
Next day, on ascending the hill of Jebíla, the city of Marákesh
came into view, with its numerous minarets; amongst which towered
the great mosque of the Kutubía—dwarfing all others by comparison.
Through the pass at the foot of the hills, called Birra
Burub—evidently an ancient Berber name—they entered a forest of
palms and crossed the many-arched bridge over the Tensift river. The
camp was pitched on the banks of the river, which, in the swollen
torrent, was racing past—at least a hundred yards wide—carrying
with it, now and then, palm-trees washed away by the flood.
On the 5th of April the Mission entered Marákesh, passing through
the beautiful forest of palms. Soon after leaving camp, they were
met by a body of a hundred cavalry, accompanied by Kaid Bu Aiesh, the
second Chamberlain. He brought a welcome from the Sultan—‘and a
thousand times welcome.’ He added that the troop which accompanied
him was entirely composed of ‘Kaids,’ or officers, who were sent
as a guard of honour to the British Representative on his entry.
Entering the city by the Bab Hamár, they proceeded to the summer
palace of the Maimunía, where Sir John was received by the Governor
of the city and other officials, and conducted to a ‘kubba’
or small pavilion at the end of a long avenue in the beautiful
garden, or rather orchard, attached to the dwelling. All kinds of
fruit-trees abounded, intermingled with palms and cypresses, and
intersected by broad avenues of large olive-trees. The fragrance of
the orange and lemon-trees in full flower filled the air. The only
flowers were the large white jasmine and the scented single rose of
‘Sigelmasi’—used in making attar of roses; but both these grew
in profusion.
The ‘kubba,’ the Governor said, had been prepared as Sir
John’s bedroom. It was richly carpeted and encircled by divans. A
large and handsome brass bed stood in a recess, while an ugly deal
washstand, apparently made for the occasion, furnished with utensils
of uncouth form and colour, contrasted unfavourably with the Moorish
fittings. After the authorities had taken leave, the other apartments
were investigated and found to be ample and well furnished in the
Moorish style. The doors and ceilings, which were decorated with
arabesque work, carved and coloured, had evidently been recently
repainted. Facing the entrance to the main dwelling was a beautiful
fountain, set in the wall in a horseshoe arch of tiles and delicate
geometric tracery. In the centre of the courtyard, on to which the
rooms opened, was a large marble basin in which bubbled another jet
of water. The archways of the doors were beautifully decorated with
carved filagree work.
On the morning of the 7th, as pre-arranged, Hadj Mohammed Bu
Aiesh, the chief Usher, announced in person that the Sultan would
be prepared to receive Sir John and the members of the Mission
at 9 o’clock. This official was attired in the rich dress of a
Moorish courtier. Several coloured cloth caftans, or long tunics,
richly embroidered at the edges and seams with silk, were covered
by another of white cotton with flowing sleeves, and over these
was draped the creamy woollen ‘haik,’ which marks the civilian,
of which the soft folds hung to the ground. His turban of spotless
white was rolled, fold upon fold, above his brow, forming a disk of
marvellous size round the red fez which peeped above it.
Shortly after this announcement, a procession was formed. A double
line of the irregular soldiers in their picturesque and flowing dress
of all the colours of the rainbow, led the way. They were followed
by Sir John, the chief Usher riding on his left, and two officers
of the Askar, or regulars, walking on either side of his horse. Then
came the gentlemen of the Mission, all in uniform. The gates of the
palace precincts had been closed to prevent the mob crowding in,
and were only opened to admit the _cortège_. In the great court,
or square, were drawn up between three and four thousand Askar,
who presented arms when the ‘Bashador’ appeared.
The scene as usual was brilliant in its barbaric pomp of led
horses handsomely caparisoned, gaily dressed attendants, many-hued
soldiery, and solemn, white-robed officials. But in curious
contrast to the gaiety of his surroundings, stood prominent an old
‘deruish[46],’ with whom no one interfered. He was dirty, ragged
and decrepit, perhaps deranged, for he gazed around with a strange
wild air. During the Sultan’s ceremonious interview with Sir John
the ‘deruish’ stood, with uplifted hands, loudly blessing the
‘Prince of believers.’
Next day some of the idlers of the party visited the town. Accompanied
by an escort of fourteen men and an officer, they made their way
to the ‘Mellah’ or Jewish quarter, a horribly dirty place. The
Hebrews of Marákesh are an ugly and apparently degraded race. To add
to their unsightly appearance, the men wear blue kerchiefs with white
spots, tied over their heads and under their chins. Two long oily
curls hang on either side of their faces. Their greasy cloaks, blue
or black, are similar to those worn by the natives of Sus, and have
a curious lozenge-shaped pattern in red and yellow woven across the
back. Tradition relates that these cloaks were first woven by Spanish
captives in the sixteenth century, who worked the Spanish colours on
the back of the cloaks destined for their own use. The Jewish women,
with the exception of a very few young girls, were no better looking
than the men. But their out-door dress is graceful and pleasing,
as they envelop themselves in a large veil of soft white cotton
of native manufacture, bordered with a broad band of silk—also
white—which is arranged to fall in front. Three centuries ago this
veil, with white or coloured silk borders, was worn by the Moslem
women of Marákesh, who now wrap themselves, when they go abroad,
in the more clumsy and less becoming heavy woollen ‘haik.’
The large escort which, when the party started, had been looked on
as an absurd precaution, proved to be really necessary. Though the
people showed no incivility, the pressure of the dense crowds that
thronged after the strangers would have rendered progress without
an escort well nigh impossible.
A few days later the whole party dined at the house of the
Hajib—Sid Musa. They rode thither through the deserted streets
in bright moonlight, which enabled them to avoid the holes and
pitfalls abounding in this decaying town. Well-dressed dependants
waited at Sid Musa’s door to take their horses, and, following
a man with a lantern, they soon found themselves in a small but
beautiful court, with a fountain playing in a marble basin in the
centre. Near this stood five tea-kettles on little charcoal stoves,
and as many diminutive tables, each bearing a tray covered with a
silk kerchief—suggestive of tea. Sid Musa and a Sheríf called
the Bakáli, a favourite of the Sultan, welcomed them, and led the
way into a room furnished with two gorgeous beds, chairs, sofas,
and divans covered with brocade and satin. Handsome mirrors, draped
with embroidered silken scarves, hung round the walls, which were
covered with velvet arras embroidered in gold. These hangings,
which cover the lower portion of the walls of every respectable
Moorish dwelling, and vary in richness of material according to the
wealth of the owner, appear to be a remnant of their ancient life
as nomad Arabs. The hanging resembles the side of the tent still
in use among the Moors. The design is invariably a succession of
horse-shoe arches in different coloured materials and more or less
richly embroidered. In mosques and holy places, and in them alone,
mats, often very fine, are used for the same purpose.
After the guests had been introduced to their hosts and the usual
compliments had passed, in the course of conversation Sir John
expressed to Sid Musa his desire to visit the Atlas Mountains. With
the view of preventing the objections which are often raised by the
Moorish Government when Europeans wish to penetrate into the more
remote regions of Morocco, he observed that he was born and bred a
highlander and that he longed to be once more among mountains. Sid
Musa and the Bakáli, being both mountaineers, quite concurred in
this sentiment and promised to aid in promoting an expedition.
Dinner was long delayed, and Sid Musa became restless till the
Sheríf informed him that the guest’s servants had been consulted
regarding the feast, and that they had advised the Moorish _chef_
(a coal-black slave) to reverse the usual order of a native meal;
as it had been intended that the sweet dishes should be served first
and the viands afterwards.
At last the signal was given and the party entered another room,
where a table had been laid in European style.
The menu was as follows:—
Roast pigeons, stuffed chickens, stewed lamb, turkey with almonds,
and highly flavoured siksu[47]; olives in oil; oranges cut in sections
and spiced, served as a vegetable; salad of olives and mint; eggs
poached with olives and oil; chicken fricassée, with a rich egg
sauce; chickens with red butter—a piquante sauce; stewed mutton
with fried eggs; chickens stewed with almonds and sweetened.
Dry siksu; rice made up in a sort of porridge; bowls of new milk;
almond tart, flavoured with musk; pastry dipped in honey.
Dessert: oranges, almonds, raisins, nuts, and fourteen dishes of
confectionery, including ‘kab ghazal,’ or gazelle hoofs, little
cakes of that form, from which they take their name, made of pastry
thickly iced and filled with a concoction of almonds.
A pleasant preparation of unripe figs, much resembling chutney,
was served with the stewed lamb.
The only beverage was water, slightly flavoured with musk and essence
of citron flowers.
Of this menu the turkey, the fricassées of chicken and the dry
siksu, were pronounced excellent, but some of the other dishes were
horrible concoctions.
The servants reported afterwards that as many dishes as had been
served remained outside untasted; but that the steward, observing
how little was eaten, promptly brought the banquet to a close and
produced coffee, well made, but curiously flavoured. After dinner the
ladies were invited to visit the harem, whither Sid Musa proceeded
to conduct them. Through the horseshoe arch of the entrance showed
a large court planted with orange-trees, illuminated by the full
moon and by numerous lanterns held by black slave girls. Here,
picturesquely grouped, the gorgeously apparelled ladies of the harem
awaited them. A stream of dazzling light from a room on one side
of the court played on the glittering jewels with which they were
loaded, producing altogether quite a theatrical effect.
The courteous, gentle manners of these Moorish ladies and their
soft voices were very attractive. The coloured women were even
more remarkable on this score than the white, who were probably
wives of inferior caste married to Sid Musa before he rose to his
present position of rank and importance, for the ‘Hajib’ was a
mulatto—one of the Bokhári, previously alluded to.
In connection with these Bokhári, their rise and fall, the following
tale was often related by Sir John:—
‘In the days of Mulai Sliman one of the Bokhári had risen, through
his merits and by the favour of his lord, to be Master of the Horse,
a much coveted post at the Court, as it conferred great dignity and
ample emoluments on the holder. Accordingly, in the course of time,
he amassed great wealth and possessed much property and many wives
and slaves.
‘Unfortunately, in an evil hour, he one day gave cause of offence
to his Royal Master, traduced possibly by others who were jealous
of his influence and the favour hitherto shown him; or, perhaps,
forgetful of his rôle as a courtier, he spoke his mind too freely at
an inopportune moment. Whatever the cause, the angry Sultan roundly
abused him, dismissed him from his post as Master of the Horse,
and ordered him to be gone from his presence.
‘Bending low, the Bokhári replied, “Your will, my Lord. May
God preserve the life of the Sultan,” and retired.
‘The following Friday, as the Sultan rode back to the palace from
the chief mosque, whither he had gone in state to take part in the
public prayers at midday, he observed a tall Bokhári sweeping the
courtyard and steps leading to the palace. Struck by his appearance,
the Sultan ordered the man to approach, inquiring who he was; when,
to his Majesty’s surprise, he discovered in the humble sweeper
his late Master of the Horse.
‘“What do you here?” asked the Sultan.
‘Prostrating himself in the dust, the Bokhári exclaimed, “I am my
Lord’s slave! Since the Sultan—whose life may God prolong!—has
dismissed me from my post of honour about his person, I am only fit
to undertake the duties of the lowest of my fellows.”
‘Needless to add, the wily courtier recovered the favour of the
Sultan and was reinstated in his post.’
One afternoon was devoted to returning the visits of the various
dignitaries, and amongst others that of the Uzir Sid Dris Ben Yamáni,
a Minister without a portfolio, as Sid Musa had usurped his functions.
At the gateway of the Uzir’s house the visitors dismounted, and
were conducted by a black slave through a pretty garden, by paths
paved with coloured tiles and shaded by vines on trellises. At the
end of a long path a scene was presented which had evidently been
carefully prepared for the occasion.
In a small ‘kubba,’ seated on a chair, was the Uzir, apparently
deeply engrossed in reading a pile of letters and documents which
lay open on another chair before him. A female slave stood in the
background, with bent head and folded hands. Sir John approached,
but the Uzir continued his occupation, as if too deeply engrossed
to hear or see any one. Not till the party were quite near him did
he start from his seat, as if taken unawares, to receive Sir John
and bid him and all welcome; then directing the slave to remove the
documents with care, he led the way to a prettily furnished room
looking on a small court.
The last visit was to the Governor of the city, who received Sir John
at the door of his dwelling. He was a handsome young man, scarcely
past boyhood, with a decided—but cruel—expression. His father, Ben
Dawud, the late Governor, who had died only a few weeks previously,
was detested by the populace, whom he cruelly oppressed. It was
generally believed that Ben Dawud had been poisoned, by order of
the Sultan.
The young Basha took Sir John by the hand and led him across the
courtyard to a ‘kubba,’ furnished with tables and chairs, whence
was perceived—with dismay—preparations for a feast in an opposite
room. The young man, who seemed shy, was much relieved when Sir John
inquired what sort of a garden he had, and immediately led the way
to another very large square court. On two sides of it were rooms;
the exquisitely chiselled archway of a fountain occupied the third,
and the fourth contained a beautiful little alcove, where the Kaid of
our guard and the escort were seated enjoying tea. The floor of this
court shone like ice, and was as white, smooth, and slippery. The
boy-Governor explained that it was composed of a fine white clay
found near Marákesh.
While in this garden, so called from the orange-trees, flowering
shrubs, roses and jasmine which adorned it, Sir John asked whether
the painted ceilings and doors were the work of natives of the
city. The Governor replied that what they saw was ancient, and,
at a hint from his secretary, he offered to show them some rooms he
was adding to the house, also the view from the flat roof. Up narrow
and steep stairs they climbed to various unfinished chambers, the
ceilings of which did honour to the modern artists of Marákesh. Then,
after a scramble, they reached the terrace over these rooms, which,
being higher than the surrounding buildings, afforded us a lovely
view of the whole city and the country around, the effect greatly
enhanced by the deep red glow in the west, left by the setting sun,
that seemed to set the graceful palms on fire as they stood out
against the beautiful Atlas Mountains, whose snowy ranges glowed in
varying tints of rose and purple.
On descending the visitors were conducted to the banquet prepared
for them and, with the best grace they could assume, submitted to
their fate.
On April 23 Sir John had a final private audience of the Sultan,
to take leave. An account of this, his last interview with Sultan
Sid Mohammed, was written by Sir John as follows:—
The Sultan received me in a ‘kubba,’ where he was seated on a
divan. As I approached, His Majesty, motioning me to a gilt arm-chair,
placed close to the divan, requested me to be seated; he then
dismissed the chamberlains and other attendants. Thus we were alone.
After a friendly conversation and thanking the Sultan for the
hospitality and attention received during my stay at the Court,
I said, ‘With Your Majesty’s permission, I am about to put a
strange query.’
‘Kol’—‘Say on,’ said the Sultan, ‘for I know, whatever
you say, yours will be the words of a true friend, as you have
ever been.’
‘Then,’ I continued, ‘I beg to know whether Your Majesty
would desire to listen to the language of flattery, to words that
will give you joy and pleasure, to expressions of satisfaction and
admiration of all I have seen and learnt during my long residence
in Your Majesty’s dominions; or whether Your Majesty would elect
that I should speak out the truth and make known, without reserve,
that which may give Your Majesty pain, distress, and even, it may
be feared, offence?’
The Sultan, looking very grave, replied, ‘This is the first time
in my life that I have been asked by any man whether I would choose
to hear what might give me pain, or even offence, or to listen to
that which may please or flatter me. I select the former.’
I bowed and said, ‘Before I proceed further, will you graciously
promise not to take offence at the language I am about to hold, and
that I shall not lose Your Majesty’s good opinion and friendship
through rashness of speech?’
The Sultan repeated, ‘Say on. You have been, are, and will ever
remain a true friend.’
‘I will premise,’ I then said, ‘by declaring that the
administration of the Government in Morocco is the worst in
the world.’ The Sultan looked startled and frowned. ‘The
present system and form of government were not introduced by Your
Majesty—nor indeed by your sire or grandsire—and therefore Your
Majesty is not responsible for the wretched impoverished state of this
fine country and of the population over which Your Majesty reigns. The
form of Government was inherited from your forefathers. After their
withdrawal from Spain—where, for centuries, they had led the van
of the world in art, science, literature and agriculture—they
set aside, on their return to the “Moghreb,” the just laws and
administration of Government which had made them the grand people they
were, and—I will add—might become again. Their descendants inherit
the same blood, bone, and brain; therefore it is to be inferred
that, under a just Government, with security of life and property,
the Moorish people might again rise and become, as their ancestors
were, one of the richest and most powerful nations in the world.
‘At the present time the Government of Morocco is like a community
of fishes. The giant fish feed upon those that are small, the
smaller upon the least, and these again feed on the worms. In like
manner—the Uzir and other dignitaries of the Court, who receive no
salaries, depend for their livelihood upon speculation, trickery,
corruption, and the money they extort from the Bashas of provinces
and other Governors.
‘The Bashas likewise are enriched through peculation from tithes
and taxes and extortion from Sheikhs, wealthy farmers, and traders. A
man that becomes rich is treated as a criminal. Neither his life,
property, nor family are secure.
‘Sheikhs and other subordinate officials subsist upon what they
can extort from the farmers and peasantry.
‘Then again, even the gaolers, who are not paid, gain their
livelihood by extorting money from the prisoners, who, when they
are paupers, are taught to make strong baskets, which are sold by
the gaolers chiefly for their own benefit.
‘How can a country—how can a people—prosper under such a form
of Government?
‘The tribes are in a constant state of rebellion against their
Bashas. When the Sultan resides in his northern capital of Fas,
the southern tribes rebel; and when he marches South to the city
of Marákesh, eating up the rebels and confiscating their property,
the northern tribes rebel. The armies of the Sultan, like locusts,
are constantly on the move ravaging the country—to quell revolt.
‘Agriculture is destroyed. The farmers and peasantry only grow
sufficient grain for their own requirements, and rich lands are
allowed to lie fallow because the farmers know the crops would
be plundered by the Bashas and Sheikhs. Thus it happens also with
the cattle and horses; breeding is checked, since the man who may
become rich through his industry is treated as a criminal and all
his possessions are taken from him. As in the fable, the goose is
killed to get the golden eggs.
‘With dominions as extensive as those of Spain or France, with a
rich soil which can produce all that can be grown in Europe, Morocco
is poor and weak—even compared with the lesser nations like Denmark
or Holland, which kingdoms do not possess a third of the land Morocco
has; while, half the year, the ground in these Northern countries
is covered with snow and ice. Yet they have revenues tenfold that
of Morocco, highly disciplined armies, and formidable navies: they
have roads, bridges, railroads, with cities and towns containing
palaces, handsome well-paved streets lit by gas, and other modern
improvements, such as are to be seen in the largest capitals of the
world. The just administration of the laws and security of life and
property have produced this state of welfare, and the people are
content and happy and do not rebel. The wealth of these countries
is always on the increase. No Sovereign, Minister, Governor, or
other high official can take from any man a stiver of money, or
an inch of land. Every officer employed by the Sovereign is paid,
and therefore does not depend for his livelihood, as in Morocco,
upon peculation, extortion, bribery and corruption.’
The Sultan here remarked that his subjects were an ignorant and
lawless people, quite unfit to be governed in the lenient manner
I had described; that unless they were treated with the greatest
severity and were not allowed to enrich themselves, they would show
a more rebellious spirit than they do even at the present time. A
lenient administration, he repeated, was not suited to the wild
races of Morocco.
To this I replied, ‘At Your Majesty’s request, I applied in
past years to the British Government for permission to allow two
hundred of Your Majesty’s subjects to be sent to Gibraltar,
for the purpose of being instructed in the drill and discipline
of the British foot-soldier. The British Government acceded to
Your Majesty’s request; a body of two hundred Moors was sent
to Gibraltar and remained there between two and three years, the
men being occasionally changed as they acquired a knowledge of
drill. I wish to know whether Your Majesty selected these men from
a superior, educated class, who had the reputation of being orderly
and intelligent, or whether they were chosen after inquiry into
their intelligence, past character, and behaviour?’
The Sultan replied, ‘No; the men were selected at random from
various tribes, so that there might be no ground for jealousy.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘two hundred Moors remained for nearly
three years at Gibraltar. They had good clothing given them,
and a quarter of a dollar (a shilling) a day was allowed each man
by Your Majesty. The British Government gave them tents to live
in. During the time they were stationed in Her Majesty’s garrison
there were only two cases in the police court against them for
dissolute conduct. Colonel Cameron, under whose superintendence
they were placed, said they learnt their drill as quickly and
well as Englishmen. They were sober, steady, and attentive to their
duties. (“With 20,000 such men I could march to Madrid to-morrow,”
said the Colonel.) This tends to show that Your Majesty’s subjects,
living under a just and humane Government, having, as these had,
proper provision made for their livelihood, are not a lawless or even
disorderly people, and that they are capable of being transformed,
under a good Government, into the grand warriors which their ancestors
were in Spain.’
The Sultan smiled, and said, ‘“Hak”—True. Your arguments
are certainly convincing. Point out the remedy. Select the man from
amongst my Wazára (viziers), or other officers of the Court, on whom
you think I could depend to introduce a new form of administration. I
believe,’ he continued, ‘that if I were to tell my Wazára that,
for the future, I should allot them and other officers of the Court
salaries, and put a stop to bribery and peculation, they would be
the first to rebel against my authority and to oppose any change in
the administration.’
I replied, ‘I know not the Uzir, or other persons in authority, whom
I could suggest should be employed to aid in carrying out a reform in
the Government. Your Majesty—like the late Sultan Mahmud of Turkey
and the great Khedive of Egypt, Mehemet Ali—will have yourself to
take the sword in one hand and the balance of Justice in the other.
‘Make an example of any man who dares to oppose Your Majesty’s
will and determination to improve the state of your subjects. The
latter, when they learn Your Majesty’s desire for their welfare,
will rise in a body to support you in getting rid of the tyrants, who
are now grinding them into dust and squeezing out their life-blood.
‘In the cause of humanity and to save the lives of thousands of men,
women and children, now impoverished and starved by a cruel system
of extortion, Your Majesty will have to act with great severity
and make a manifest example of some of the Uzirs and Bashas, thus
striking terror into the hearts of other dignitaries of your Court,
who may be inclined to oppose your reforms.
‘Can I speak out,’ I then asked, ‘without risk of my words
being publicly reported?’
‘Speak,’ said the Sultan; ‘what passes now between us shall
be kept secret.’
‘If,’ I then continued, ‘I were chief Uzir and elected by
Your Majesty to carry out the proposed reforms, I should probably
cause more heads to fall in a month than have been cut off during
the whole of Your Majesty’s reign, and still I should feel that I
was acting humanely by saving the lives and property of the innocent,
and promoting the welfare and happiness of the millions over whom Your
Majesty reigns. A cancerous disease can only be arrested by the knife,
in the hands of a skilful and humane surgeon. But publish to the world
that I have held such language, and the so-called humanitarians of
my country would demand my recall as British Minister in Morocco.’
‘Prepare for me,’ said the Sultan, ‘a secret memorandum on
the form of Government you would propose, the salaries to be paid
to the Uzir and chief officers of my Court, to Bashas and other
officials in the provinces. I will take it into consideration and
commence gradually to introduce reforms in the administration of
the Government of the provinces; and then I shall, in due course,
introduce reform also at the Court by the payment of the Uzir, &c.,
and punish severely peculation or corrupt practices.’
I gave the Sultan a rough outline of the first steps that should be
taken by payment of Governors and other functionaries to collect taxes
and tithes—to be paid direct into the Treasury, and not through the
Governors—recommending that receipts should be delivered to all
persons who paid taxes, &c., and that these collectors should also
be empowered to take all fines, imposed by Governors or Sheikhs on
criminals, and pay them into the Treasury, which would tend to check
the rapacity and injustice of Governors in imposing heavy and unjust
fines, which at the present time they appropriate to their own use.
I reminded the Sultan that it was at my suggestion, when the
Convention of Commerce of 1856 was concluded, that the salaries of the
Customs Officers were greatly increased and, at the same time, steps
taken to prevent the wholesale robbery of the receipts of Custom;
and that he, the Sultan, had told me that, since my advice had been
followed, the revenues derived from the Customs had greatly increased.
The Sultan said, ‘Yes, I remember, and also that I have said that
since the conclusion of the Convention of 1856 with Great Britain,
though we pay half the revenues of Customs to Spain on account
of the war debt, and a quarter, on account of a loan received,
to Great Britain, yet the amount of revenue paid into the Treasury
at the present time is greater than before the conclusion of that
Convention, and the trade of Morocco with England and other countries
has trebled in value.’
· · · · · ·
‘The day after this conversation with the Sultan,’ writes Sir
John, ‘I left Marákesh. The camp was to be pitched about twelve
miles from the city, and we started early in the morning. About an
hour later, one of the escort, looking back, exclaimed, ‘I see a
horseman coming along the plain at full gallop. I should think he
is a messenger from the Court.’ And thus it proved.
‘I have been dispatched,’ said the breathless horseman, ‘by
the Uzir, Sid Mohammed Ben Nis (the Minister of Finance) and the
Sheríf Bakáli, who have been ordered by the Sultan to convey
to Your Excellency a message from our Lord; and they wish to know
whether they are to continue their journey to the camp or whether
you might be disposed to await their arrival on the road?’
‘See,’ I replied, ‘there is a fig-tree near the road, I will
sit beneath it and await the Uzir and the Sheríf: go back and tell
them so.’
Sending on the rest of the party, I, with one of my daughters and
two of the escort, awaited the functionaries, who arrived about a
quarter of an hour after I was seated.
Ben Nis began the conversation as follows:—
‘This morning I was sent for by the Sultan, who ordered me to convey
to you the following message:—His Majesty said he had not slept all
night, but lay awake pondering over all you had said to him; that he
feels more convinced than ever that you are a true friend of himself
and his people, and, I am desired to add, His Majesty thanks you.’
I replied, ‘Convey to His Majesty the expression of my gratitude
for having deigned to dispatch such high functionaries with the very
flattering message you have now delivered. It is a great consolation,
for I learn thereby that His Majesty is satisfied that what I have
said was solely prompted by feelings of good-will and friendship.’
Ben Nis remarked, ‘The Sultan was in such a hurry to dispatch us
that he had not time to tell us the language you had held to His
Majesty, and which had prevented him from sleeping, so I shall feel
obliged if you will communicate it to me.’
‘It would not,’ I replied, ‘be regular or proper that I
should make known to any one, without the Sultan’s consent,
the confidential communication I have had the honour of making to
His Majesty. Go back, and say such was my reply to your request,
and you can then ask His Majesty, if you please, the purport of
our conversation.’
Ben Nis looked sullen and angry, but the Sheríf smiled and said,
‘The Bashador is right. It is for the Sultan to tell us, if
he will.’
Ben Nis then observed, ‘The reason why I am very anxious to know
what passed yesterday is, that after your long private audience,
the Sultan gave orders that all the Wazára and chief officers of the
Court, as also the Bashas of provinces who happen to be at Marákesh,
should assemble in the Meshwa (Court of Audience).
‘When we were all assembled, His Majesty appeared and addressed
us thus:—
‘“You are all a set of thieves and robbers, who live by
peculation, bribery, corruption and plunder. Go away!”
‘All present at the Meshwa therefore drew the conclusion that the
language you may have held had caused His Majesty to thus harangue
us.’
To this I replied, ‘Go, as I said before, and ask His Majesty
to tell you of the language I held to him. I cannot and shall not
do so.’
The return journey from Marákesh to Mogador afforded no new features
of special interest. On May 2 the sea was reached. Miss Hay describes
her father’s entry in her diary:—
‘We were met by the Lieutenant-Governor of the province of Haha
and a large body of horse, who after the usual salutations formed up
in our rear. Again another body of mounted men appeared, led by the
Governor of Haha in person. As the latter advanced to greet Sir John,
a number of horsemen, who had been concealed on the road in front,
dashed forward at a gallop and passed us, firing. This startling
form of salute was intended to convey a compliment.
‘Next came the Governor of the town with another troop of horse and
personally attended by a number of running footmen. Drawn up on one
side of the road was a long irregular line of wild mountaineers on
foot, all armed with long guns and handsome daggers, their blue and
white jelabs kilted short—so as not to impede their movements—by
means of gay leather belts, and bedizened with many and gay leather
pouches and bags.
‘Before these mountaineers stood a tall old man playing on a reed
flute, a sweet and harmonious, though scarcely a warlike instrument,
but a great favourite with all the native mountain tribes. The
various troops of horse having fallen in, the open plain presented a
beautiful and animated sight. Flying either past or to meet us, came
every moment the charging troopers in their brilliant flowing drapery,
firing when close to Sir John. In front of us moved the mountaineers,
also firing as they performed the different and curious gun-dances
of their tribes; or, if natives of Sus, twirling and throwing their
loaded guns and naked daggers high in the air to catch them as
they fell.
‘The whole town had turned out to see the show, and when we came
within sight of the walls, the batteries fired a salute, to which
responded the joyous “zagharit” of the women who thronged beneath
the walls.
‘During this ceremonious entry a curious incident occurred. One
of the escort cried ‘Jackal!’ and, slinking along before us,
we saw one of these beasts hurrying away. In a moment, dignity and
etiquette were forgotten, and Sir John, followed by all the riders
of our party and a number of the troopers, dashed in pursuit. They
followed till the jackal reached a hollow among the sands, where the
Moors pulled up, saying there was a quicksand at the bottom which
would bear a jackal but not a horseman.
‘Beneath the walls, Sir John was received by the civil
functionaries, mounted, as became men of peace, on sleek mules. The
crowd was now so dense that the escort had to force a passage through
the people to enable us to enter the town gates, which were shut
immediately after, to keep back the rabble for a time. The terraces
and balconies of the houses were crowded, principally with Jewesses
attired in all the splendour of their rich native dress. We rode to
the Consulate, where we stayed the night, and next day re-embarked
on board H.M.S. Lively.
‘It was Sir John’s intention to call at some of the ports on
his return voyage, and Saffi—more correctly E’Sfi, or “the
pure”—was the first to be visited.
‘Off this port we arrived early the following day in fine weather,
though a heavy sea was rolling on to the shore from the Atlantic. The
landing however was effected without difficulty, in spite of the rocks
which beset the entrance to the little port. On these rocks men were
stationed who directed the boat’s course, by shouts and signs,
through the narrow passage, and warned them when to pause and when
to take advantage of a lull between two high waves.
‘Sir John met with a cordial reception from the authorities,
and a banquet was offered to the Mission by the British Vice-Consul
and residents; but just as the party had seated themselves at table
to enjoy their kindly hospitality, a messenger arrived in haste to
say the sea was rising, and, if we wished to regain the ship, not a
moment must be lost. The result was a hurried flight to the beach,
where two large surf-boats, manned by natives, were prepared. Into
these the party were stowed, each person having first been provided
with a life-belt by a kind resident, though had any accident occurred,
the life-belts could only have floated bruised and mangled bodies
ashore, so numerous and cruel were the rocks on all sides. The
bar continued to rise, and the authorities and residents tried to
dissuade Sir John from attempting to cross; but he, knowing what a
long detention might follow, and never inclined to brook the least
delay, decided on an immediate start. Extra scouts were stationed on
the rocks. The steersmen, both old men, with keen grave faces and
flowing white beards, took their places in the boats. The rowers,
twelve to each boat, stood to their short sweeps, each with a foot on
the bench before him, the passengers crouching quietly at the bottom
of the boats. The chief of the scouts from his post, on a pinnacle
of rock which commanded the perilous and tortuous passage through
the bar, raised his arms to Heaven and prayed aloud for Divine aid
and blessing, the crowd and rowers listening in devout silence and at
the close of the invocation joining heartily in the final “Amín.”
Then at a signal we started. Each immense breaker threatened to swamp
us, yet we rose and fell safely on the great waves while struggling
nearer to the narrow dangerous passage through the rocks, yet holding
back and waiting for the signal to pass, while from the shore rose
the cries of the crowd appealing to God and “Sidna Aisa” (Our
Lord Jesu) to help and protect us. At last the signal was given,
and, like a flash, the first boat passed through and was safe in
the open before another great breaker thundered in. The second boat
followed a few minutes later, and when clear of the bar the rowers
of each boat, raising their hands to Heaven in a solemn “fatha,”
thanked God and Sidna Aisa for help in the hour of need.
‘As the sea was so high it was judged useless to attempt to cross
the bar at Rabát, and the Lively returned direct to Tangier.’