CHAPTER XII

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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.

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