CHAPTER XIX

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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.’

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