CHAPTER VII

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POLITICAL AGENT AT TANGIER AND FIRST MISSION TO MARÁKESH. 1845-46.

On November 6, 1845, Mr. Hay writes as follows to the Hon. A. Gordon:—

I have been daily expecting a summons ‘_to the Court exalted of the Lord_’ (_par excellence_), but His Sherifian Majesty has made a move from the city of Meknes, fearing, I suppose, to be _stalemated_ by the knight Bugeaud and his ten thousand pawns.

By latest accounts from the interior the Sultan has arrived at the united town of Rabat and Salli, the latter famous, as you may remember, in days of yore for its dreaded rovers.

To-morrow I expect a courier from the Sultan which will decide, I hope, the time and place for my visit to His Majesty, and, when _en route_, I hope to be able to better amuse you by some accounts of this ‘barbarous’ people.

You ask whether I think the Moors will submit to be ‘_peaceably invaded_’ by the French in their ‘chasse’ of Abd-el-Kader? My answer is in the negative, and I fear that such invasion will produce a most complicated state of affairs throughout this Empire, which might hereafter create a question of grave importance.

The French start from a wrong principle in their mania for destroying Abd-el-Kader; for if this French hydra were killed to-morrow, few months would elapse before another arose. It is to the hostile and fanatical feeling of the inhabitants that they must attribute all their troubles, and until they find a better cure for this feeling than a system of violence and retaliation, battle and murder will never cease in that territory as long as an armed Arab exists.

When Algiers was first taken, my late father, who was an old soldier, and knew the character of the Arab, remarked to the French Chargé d’Affaires, who was boasting of the importance of their newly-acquired colony, that ‘it would prove a very dear conquest,’ and that he felt positive that ‘before twenty years elapsed, a hundred thousand men would be required to hold the country, and that each year would bring fresh demands for troops, not to protect their colonists, but to destroy the Arabs.’

Another evil for the French Government is that the military chiefs, sent to fight in Africa, know that if there be no Abd-el-Kader there will be _no Duc d’Isly, no ‘gloire,’ no crosses_. Were either Louis Philippe, or Guizot, Governor of Algiers, I could foresee something like future tranquillity; but at present I look forward to a series of events, upon which I could write chapters, that will render necessary either the conquest of Morocco by the French, or the limitation, for another score of years, of their possessions to within a day’s journey of the coast.

I must not be more explicit on this subject, or you would think me perhaps to be trespassing on the limits of what a servant of the public is not justified in writing thus privately. . . .

Here at once, in a three hours’ sail from Gibraltar, you are transported, as if by enchantment, a thousand or two thousand years back, and you find yourself among the same people and the same style of living as you read of in the Scriptures. The Bible and the ‘Arabian Nights’ are your best handbooks, and would best prepare you for the scene. Lane’s most excellent work, on the ‘Customs and Manners of the Egyptians,’ is the most exact work I ever read of Mohammedan customs, and is very applicable to this country.

Mr. Hay started on his mission to Sultan Mulai Abderahman on March 3, 1846. The following extracts are taken from letters addressed to his mother during the journey, and forwarded by her to the Hon. A. Gordon at Mr. Hay’s request.

I am off for the exalted Court of His Sherifian Majesty Sultan Mulai Abderahman, and alas! it is Tuesday, an unlucky day for ‘the faithful’: for ‘Telatsa felatsa,’ say the Moors—on the third day (Tuesday) all fails; but good omens have attended the start, and, as I am taught by my favourite trooper, Kaid Abd-el-Kerim, now snoring at my tent door, good omens such as I have experienced this morning will counterbalance the unlucky day: ‘God forbid,’ said he, ‘that its name should be repeated.’

Yes, as I put my foot in the stirrup, a holy dervish, one who would be profanely called in Europe a madman, rushed up and threw his patchwork and party-coloured mantle over me, and, lifting up his hand towards heaven, cried out, ‘God’s blessing and the Sultan’s favour be with you!’ I threw his Holiness a small coin, for no doubt I had deprived him of much virtue,—at least I should suppose so by the otherwise unaccountable creeping and itching I experienced; but perhaps my fancy may have misled me.

Kaid ‘Bu Jebel’ (‘the Father of the Mountain,’ grandfather, I suppose, of the Mouse!), with his doughty followers, compose my escort—some thirty in all. I found them drawn up in zig-zag line in the little Sok (market-place), headed, though not commanded, by young Sid Abd-el-Malek, the son of my old friend Kaid Ben Abu, governor of Rif, who, at my particular request, is to accompany us.

In the outer market-place all the corps of foreign Representatives, a host of chevaliers, but very _mal à cheval_, joined our party, and a scene commenced, which continued till they left us, of snorting, rearing, kicking, and exclamations. Apologies, mille pardonizing, ‘et mille et mille’ were offered, when the heels of one of their chargers passed within an inch of my knee-pan.

Powder-play was commenced by the Kaid, and some of my colleagues became suddenly pedestrians. I think I can match any one of them on horseback, although the pen may yield. God be praised! we parted without injury.

An honest countryman from the village of Suanni, on passing by, offered me his bowl of milk to drink. It was not to be refused, and as I lifted the weighty earthen vessel to my mouth, my horse made a slight plunge, and a copious libation gushed over my gilded armour[7] and accoutrements.

‘Oh! what good fortune,’ shouted my escort. ‘Peace and plenty!’ Omen the second.

Our baggage had started some time before us, and had halted at ‘Ain Dalia,’ or ‘the fountain of the vine;’ the encampment, consisting of some thirteen tents, enlivened the scene and the wild country around.

A camp is a pretty sight, and these people, lately enfranchised, as it were, from their nomad life, well understand the arrangements and economy expedient on such occasions. Our nags were soon picketed round the tents, and the camp attendants, drawn up in line, called down, as I approached, God’s blessing on their work, with a prayer for a safe journey and return.

A quarrel or two, with much screaming and uttering of the most guttural sounds, followed this momentary calm. The Moors are children, and children will quarrel. Kaddor swore at the Hadj’s great-great-grandmother, and the Hadj burnt all Kaddor’s ancestors. Their friends intervened, and there was much mediation, but peace could not be effected. My turn then came, and I said, ‘God’s curse on the devil, who causes men’s hearts to be blackened by passion. Love each other, as God loveth you.’ So the Hadj gave Kaddor a hearty buss, and Kaddor, with pouting lips, kissed the Hadj’s grizzly beard, and each cursed the devil.

At coffee time I invited the Kaids and the Taleb to sip with me, and wondrous tales ensued on their part, and in return I talked of Stambul, its magnificence and fame.

Kaid Abd-el-Kerim informed me he commanded as ‘Kaid Erha,’ or colonel, a body of cavalry at the battle of Isly in 1844, when Maréchal Bugeaud invaded Morocco with a force of twelve thousand men and attacked the Sultan’s army.

Kaid Abd-el-Kerim described the strong position that Sid Mohammed, the eldest son of Sultan Mulai Abderahman, had taken up with his forces on the brow of a hill, and how earthworks had been thrown up, on which field-pieces were placed, under the command of a Spanish renegade, who had been a sergeant of artillery in Spain. ‘But,’ said the Kaid, ‘I do not consider the conflict with the French can be called a battle.’

‘How is that?’ I inquired, ‘for the Moorish forces were routed, the Sultan’s camp and the field-pieces taken possession of.’

‘Yes,’ said the Kaid. ‘Still I maintain it could not be called a battle, for we never had an opportunity of a fair fight, so as to be able to judge whether the Mussulmen or the French were the braver warriors.’

I then asked the Kaid to describe what took place, as also his reasons for not considering it a fair fight.

The Kaid replied: ‘When the French force first came in sight, at a distance of about an hour’s walk (3½ miles), we observed that neither cavalry, infantry, nor artillery were spread out—as ought to be done—in line, before a battle. They had formed together a compact mass like a “berod” (swarm of bees), and thus advanced towards us without a halt, banners flying, and music playing. It was a “fraja” (a very fine sight).

‘Sid Mohammed ordered our cavalry to advance on the plain below the encampment, and the infantry, chiefly composed of tribes of mountaineers, to take up their position on our flanks on the adjoining slopes.

‘On came the French, on, on, without halting, or firing a gun, notwithstanding that our artillery played upon them, and the tribes kept up a running fire from the heights on each flank. On came the French, without a pause that would give us an opportunity of a fair fight to test the prowess of the contending forces.’

‘Explain,’ I interposed, ‘what you consider would have been a battle.’

‘Why,’ resumed the Kaid, ‘the French force ought to have halted when they got within half a mile; then we should have ordered a body of cavalry to advance and charge; the French might have done likewise; the troopers would have met, and a hand-to-hand conflict would have ensued. Those who got worsted would have retreated; other bodies on either side would have charged, and then likewise the infantry would have advanced and joined in the affray. Finally, when either force retreated, the artillery would have covered their retreat, the battle would have been brought to a conclusion and we should have known who were the best and bravest warriors: but no—on came the French without a halt, and when our cavalry charged, the French infantry fired and mowed them down, even killing with their bayonets some of our troopers who had charged right up to the mass of French soldiers.

‘On they came; our cavalry, after repeated charges, having no opportunity of fair fight, retreated, and so did the tribes. The renegade fired his field-pieces as the French advanced upon our camp, and he, as also many of the artillerymen, were killed standing at their guns.

‘What was to be done? It was quite a surprise. Sid Mohammed fled with all the cavalry, abandoning tents, ammunition, and many thousand animals.

‘It was not a fair battle, and therefore I do not consider it a defeat.’

The Taleb then gave us the following dialogue between the ‘fellah’ (farmer) Ben Taieb Zarhoni and the wise F’ki Sid Mohammed Ben Nasr.

_Ben Nasr._ ‘God has permitted the cursed Nazarenes to take possession of Algiers, as a punishment for the sins of the Mussulmans of that territory who had neglected to follow the precepts of our Prophet—may God’s blessing be upon him! Ere long we Moors shall likewise be punished for our sins and wickedness by the anger of God, who will permit the Christians to take possession of the country of our forefathers.’

_Zarhoni._ ‘I do not comprehend why an all-just God should punish, without discrimination, in this manner; for, in so doing, he punishes the innocent as well as the guilty. Why should the man who has obeyed God’s precepts from his youth upwards, become subject to the law of the accursed Christian because some of his brethren are sinful? How comes it that the Deity, in His wisdom, has not found more just ways of inflicting punishment on the guilty?’

_Ben Nasr._ ‘After the Deluge and the destruction of mankind, Noah’s mind was troubled with the same fallacies, and he prayed to God to enlighten him and teach him why the innocent were drowned as well as the sinful. He was thereupon thrown into a trance, and God sent a great number of fleas which crawled up his leg; upon one biting him, Noah awoke and rubbed his hand over the bitten part, killing not only the offending flea, but many others.

‘An Angel then appeared and said, “O man! Why killest thou fleas which have not injured thee?”

‘Noah answered and said, “O Lord! These fleas are insignificant and noxious creatures.”

‘To which the Angel replied, “As thou hast destroyed these insects and not distinguished between the guilty and the harmless, on account of the offence of one flea, thus also had the Almighty ordained the Deluge for the destruction of mankind—who were, in His sight, but noxious creatures upon earth.”

‘Noah bowed his head to the ground, and was dumb.’

_Zarhoni._ ‘If I had been Noah, I should have replied to the Angel—“An almighty, an all-seeing God could distinguish the guilty from the innocent: but a poor ignorant man, awaking from a dream on being bitten by a flea, could not be expected to select which was the offending, and which the harmless flea.”’

_Ben Nasr._ ‘It appears Noah was not so ready with a reply as you are.’

Next we had the history of the son of Tama, who would not say ‘Enshallah’ (God willing).

‘“Say Enshallah! when you propose to make a journey or to undertake anything: then fortune will attend you,” said the learned F’ki Bitiwi to his young friend Selam Amu.

‘Know you not what the other day befell Abd-el-Kerim the son of Tama the widow of the Sheikh of Amar? Hear then.

‘Abd-el-Kerim, last market day, told his mother he was going to the Sok of Had-el-Gharbía to buy a cow.

‘The widow Tama, a devout good woman, reprimanded her son for not adding “Enshallah.” To this Abd-el-Kerim replied, in a taunting and blasphemous manner, that he needed not God’s assistance, either to go to market, or to buy a cow; for, said the rash young man, “Have I not here in the hood of my jelab more than sufficient money for the purpose? Have I not legs to carry me to the Sok? Are there not always cows to be sold?”

‘His mother again rebuked him, saying, “Without God’s will and His assistance, no man can succeed in life.”

‘Abd-el-Kerim laughed at her and, shaking the money in his hood, set off to the market which was only about an hour’s journey from their village.

‘On reaching the river Gharifa he found it unusually swollen and was obliged to wade more than waist deep.

‘When he reached the middle of the stream, the current was running very strong and there came on a heavy shower of rain. Abd-el-Kerim forgot the money in the hood of his jelab and pulled it over his head to prevent his getting wet, and the coins fell into the river and were lost in the mud.

‘In vain did Abd-el-Kerim dive and endeavour to recover his money. The river was rising, the current became more rapid every moment and he was obliged to retrace his steps and return in a very wretched state to his village. Wet to the skin, without his money or his cow, bitterly repenting that he had not followed his mother’s advice, he vowed he would endeavour to be a better Moslem in the future.

‘On entering the village, he met his cousin Husain, who, having seen him set out in the morning for the market, inquired what brought him back so early.

‘Oh, said Abd-el-Kerim, it has pleased God that I should not listen to the advice of my mother, who desired me to say “Enshallah.” I intended to have bought a cow, but God ordained I should reach the river just as it pleased God it should begin to rain. And then it was His will that I should forget the money in the hood of my jelab: so I pulled the hood over my head and by God’s will it was ordained that my money should thus be lost in the river. Now, if it please God, I vow with God’s assistance, never to say or do anything without asking the aid and blessing of the Almighty—Enshallah!’

Another story was that of ‘the lion and the lark.’

A lion was prowling, on a hot summer’s day, in the plains of Sahel, and was about to tread on the nest of a lark, which was brooding over its unfledged larklings, when the bird thus addressed the royal beast: ‘O greatest and most powerful Sultan of the forest, have pity on a poor bird and her helpless young!’

The lion, looking with the greatest contempt on the little lark, replied, ‘Is it for thy wretched offspring, or for thee—despicable bird—that I should swerve one step from my course?’ And at the same moment he placed his paw upon the nest, and crushed the young larks.

The mother flew up towards the heavens, wailing piteously, and trilled out, ‘O cruel tyrant! God created me and my little ones whom thou hast now destroyed: from His throne do I seek justice and retribution. With Him all creatures are equal: thy strength, O lion, in His sight, is not more regarded than my helplessness.

‘O God! I place my confidence in Thee! Thou art our Defender. Thou art the Judge of all creatures.’

‘A curse,’ said the lion, ‘upon thy babbling tongue!’

The lark, soaring higher and higher, continued her song of lamentation and woe; when suddenly she heard a voice from heaven, and Gabriel, the messenger of God, thus addressed her, ‘Thy prayer, O lark, is heard, and justice shall be done unto thee. Seek the aid of the winged tribes, God ordains that they shall succour thee.’

The lark had hardly recovered from her astonishment at the heavenly voice, when a falcon and a host of flies and gnats surrounded her. The falcon addressing her said, ‘Thou seekest justice and revenge. They shall be thine, for I am sent by Allah. The powerful one shall be humbled and shall be made to learn God’s strength and might; even through his humblest creatures.

‘Hark ye, O gnats! Seek the lion in his den in the thicket; torment him with myriads of stings until he flies into the open. I shall then pounce on his back and tear his flesh with my talons. Then—O flies! do ye enter into the wounds in his body and fill them with maggots and corruption. Thus shall the strong be humbled. Thus shall those who despise God’s creatures, and who rule with wanton tyranny over the weak, be made to know that there is no power nor strength but in God Almighty, the Most High.’

The directions of the falcon were carried out, and the lion, tormented by myriads of gnats, fled from his lair unto the plain. There the falcon pounced on his back and tore his flesh. Innumerable swarms of flies filled his body with maggots and corruption.

In a few days the tyrant of the forest, the terror of man and beast, died in a loathsome and miserable manner.

Thus was the lark avenged.

_March 4._ Our tents were struck at daybreak. More prisoners at the muleteer’s tent, and again I had to play mediator. The accusation was that sufficient barley had not been provided for the soldiers’ horses. On examining the case, I found that more than enough had been brought; but that a Kaid, who had followed us from the town by way of compliment, was now returning and wanted to carry with him a rich harvest from these poor people. This I put a stop to and released the prisoners.

Crossing the line of hills called Akba el Hamra, we passed Dar Aklau, or house of Aklau—a famous robber—and reached a wide plain traversed by the rivers of Kholj and Hashef, in which is found much ‘shebbel[8],’ a fish like a salmon, though the flesh is white and a most dainty dish when roasted or fried. The fisheries are a monopoly of the Government. Here we were met by the Kaid Sheikh of Gharbía and about seventy cavalry who, after welcoming us in the name of the Sultan, wheeled round and headed our party.

Our place of encampment is again a well-chosen site. A ‘mona’ of sheep, fowls, shebbel, eggs, butter, bread, milk and oranges was now brought, and a horrid cutting of throats ensued. I wish we did not know that mutton belonged to a sheep or the wing of a fowl to a chicken. A camp scene sadly reminds me that man is a bloodthirsty creature.

_March 5._ Rain! Rain in torrents!

About midday we had half an hour’s fine weather, and I sallied out in search of antiquities, and found numbers of large square hewn stones covering the green turf. Here and there were remains of a well-built wall—but of no height or form to enable me, in my ignorance, to say what these ruins had been. Every appearance around indicated the remains of a town of importance, probably Roman. The Moors tell me that in digging they find many ruins underground. In one place, however, called Uhara, there were the ruined remains of what would appear to have been a castle or barrack. This the Arabs declared to have been the palace of the Sultan of Portugal’s daughter. It is possible that this building is Portuguese, for they—the Portuguese—possessed all this line of country, and would naturally select the same advantageous position for a castle as their predecessors the Romans. The material of this building was thin flat stones, not hewn, but apparently collected from the surface of the soil and built with a hard cement—not mortar—as far as I could judge. The remnant of an arched well was near the building. We also came across what appeared to have been an amphitheatre, formed in part by the natural rising of the ground and in part by the hand of man. Not far from this site, some years ago, I stumbled by chance on a much more perfect amphitheatre[9], in which were still the steps or seats for the spectators and the dens for the wild beasts and gladiators.

On returning to camp I found that the Sheikh of Ibdaua had arrived with his cavalry to present his salams; but had come empty-handed—‘not even a bowl of milk’—as I was informed by Kaid Serbul, who has been sent by the Basha to provide ‘mona.’ So this Kaid-caterer has not allowed the Bedouin to approach my ‘Exalted Presence.’ I must, however, make friends with this gentleman, and show him by and by, if he prove a tame Moslem, that the Englishman is not so hard upon him as his own countrymen. A good name is what I wish to leave amongst these poor people. Some day it may prove of importance.

_March 7._ Starting our baggage at an early hour, so as to give time for the animals and baggage to be taken in boats across the river, and the tents to be pitched, we followed in the afternoon.

El Araish was soon in sight, and its fine river El Kus (the Lixus of the ancients). The Sultan’s fleet, consisting of four dismantled and rotten brigs, lay in this river. The captains of these vessels hoisted their flags as I passed. A twelve-oared boat, with the captain of the port and crew in full dress, awaited me; and two or three boats for the horses. One of these boats, by way of compliment, was destined to convey my horse all alone! At the port-gate was the Governor of the town, with a guard of honour drawn up to receive me, and in the Custom House the administrator and other authorities welcomed us with the usual salams and compliments.

The cat is out of the bag! Every night since we have started I have heard loud disputing and high words, in which fowls, eggs, mutton, &c., prevailed. It appears that from the plentiful mona I receive, a large surplus of live-stock remains, though my servants and followers eat to their hearts’ content and are looking twice as sleek as when they left Tangier. These sheep and fowls had been appropriated by them without my knowledge, and sold as they thought best, and one of the ‘Faithful’ complained to me because my Arab secretary, Sid Ben Yahia, insisted upon having his share of the spoil. I have put a stop to this shameless proceeding and have let them know that, as the food is given to me by the Sultan’s orders to be eaten, it shall be eaten and not an atom sold. So what my friends can’t eat, David Sicsu and the Arab secretary shall; and what they cannot, my servants shall; and what they cannot eat, the muleteers shall devour; and what the muleteers can’t eat, the poor shall; and what the poor can’t eat, they shall keep till they can. I have made one or two Moors discontented by this arrangement, but have pleased the majority: this is my aim, and to be just to all.

_March 8._ Rain again in the morning, but we made a start, and it turned out a most delightful day. Our path was over undulating hills of a red sandy soil, covered with rich grass, and the ‘klakh[10],’ an annual fennel-like plant, growing nine and ten feet high; the ‘silphion’ of the Greeks, producing gum ammoniac, the ‘fasogh’ of the Arabs. Here and there we passed patches of fine wheat and barley, the latter already in the ear. It is distressing to see this wide extent of country almost uninhabited, and its rich soil only cultivated where the wandering Arab happens to pitch his tent; yet capable, I should judge, of competing with any corn producing country in Europe. There was little or no variety of scenery on the road, and we did not meet half a dozen persons, or see _en passant_ more than two Arab ‘duars,’ till we reached the spot of our encampment, near a limpid stream, called ‘Gla.’

_March 9._ On approaching an Arab duar, we witnessed a curious spectacle. The Arabs were flitting, and conveying their mosque on two mules’ backs. This place of prayer is a conical hut, about nine feet high and five in diameter. The priest alone enters at the time of prayer, the congregation going through their devotions in the open air.

Our encampment we found near a lake or marsh called ‘el Kra.’ St. Leger and myself waded in up to our middles after coot and duck, but only got a ducking and one coot.

Later, we Nazarenes sallied out to visit the Arab tents, accompanied by Moors with sticks to keep off the dogs, which seem to have a great dislike to the Christian, and bark their curses in as guttural sounds as their masters. The women and children peeped at us when distant, but scuttled into their tents as we approached, though two old Arab hags, dressed in the dirtiest of woollen rags, held together with large silver brooches (of the same form as the Scotch brooch made for the plaid, and used much after the same fashion for confining their dress at the shoulder), held their ground and scrutinised us with witch-like eyes. One fine girl, however, took courage and showed herself: her features were very good, and oh, such eyes!

_March 10._ Off at 7 o’clock. Delightful weather. Came in sight of the great lake of Ras-ed-Daura, which extends some twenty-five miles to the southward, though only three or four miles wide in the broadest part. This lake is of fresh water, and runs parallel with the sea-shore, but at some four or five miles’ distance, and hidden from it by a line of hills. It swarms with duck, flamingoes, black storks, Numidian cranes, swans, egrets, plovers, and curlew; coots in some places blacken the water. All these birds were very wild, so that I only succeeded in killing a few curlew. A great number of leeches are fished from this lake: upwards of ten thousand annually. It is famous also for a large kind of eel, which the Arabs fish for in canoes, made of sedge, called ‘maada.’ I examined one which an Arab was punting with a long pole, in search of coots’ and ducks’ eggs, of which he had a plentiful supply. This boat was about seven feet long and two broad, and made of bundles of sedge tied together, and coming to a point for the prow. The Arabs say they can bear two men, and cannot be sunk entirely, or even upset. As we passed several Arab duars near the lake, troops of men were washing their clothes at the margin; this they did with their feet, beating time to and accompanying their labour by a grunting noise. These wild fellows were almost naked, and finer limbs I never saw.

As we passed the Arab ‘duars,’ troops of women and children assailed me with bowls of milk and presents of eggs, calling down a blessing upon the Christian going on a friendly mission, with presents to their lord the Sultan. I spoiled my dinner with all this milk, but could not refuse the peace-offering.

In describing the ‘maada’ or sedge canoe, I should have mentioned that the word means ferry or means of traversing. This sedge is called by the Arabs ‘skaff,’ whence perhaps the Arabic word for a ship, ‘shkaff,’ as having been first made out of that material, and an English word for a boat, ‘skiff’—not touching upon many similar terms in other languages.

In the afternoon we met a party of cavalry escorting a litter, containing the sick son of the Kaid of the tribe of Beni Hassén, Hadj Abderahman Ben el Amri. The litter, which was borne by two mules, halted, and Dr. Simpson visited the patient. He had been ill for a year, and complained of nausea and want of sleep. He was going to Tangier with a letter from the Sultan to Sid Buselham to get European medical assistance. It is whispered that the young man has been poisoned by his wives—often the fate of wealthy Moors who marry many women and show more favour to one wife than another. My Kaid tells me he has three wives, and yet can live in peace; but he owns that he thinks it a bad practice and unjust to the ladies. He tells me he once overheard two of his wives conversing on this subject; one of them was complaining that man should have assumed this right, whilst women, whatever might be their position in life, could never have more than one husband—and that one, in most cases, without her choice or option; adding, moreover, that she thought she could govern or manage four men much better than any man could four women. ‘Yes,’ exclaimed the other, ‘but God has happened to give man greater strength than to us women, and they club together against us and manage matters as they please. So the Prophet was a man, and issued laws that pleased him best as a man. Then our Sultans are all men, and our Bashas and our Kadis! What justice can we expect? Men will support one another, and we must put up with the third of a husband!’

After dinner I received a message from the Arabs of a village near our camp, to say that they proposed to serenade us in honour of the Sultan, and asking permission to perform. We consented, and accordingly three of the villagers appeared; one with a Moorish drum called ‘tebél,’ each of the others having a ‘ghaita’ or pipe, which is shaped like a flageolet, but when played produces a sound like a bagpipe. The musicians commenced by playing an air called ‘haidús’: it was a wild and lively tune, and played in good time. Several of the Arabs and our camp-followers began to dance, singing words which I could not comprehend.

It was a fine moonlight night, and the Arabs, men, women, and children, assembled round the musicians and dancers. Another air was now called for, and the ‘Hamádsha’ was played. This was very quick and wild, but, barbarous as it seemed, there was something most warlike and exciting in it; so much so that I could feel my blood curdle as when I have heard a pibroch in the land o’ cakes. The Arabs commenced a dance which consisted in taking hold of each other’s arms in a semicircle, and jumping, throwing about the head, and making a grunting noise. The dancers, men and boys, were wrapped in the haik, and their heads were bare. In the midst of them was the leader of the dance, a gaunt old Arab, who, with frantic gestures and contortions of the legs and arms, urged on the maddening dance until the sweat rolled down in streams from their swarthy faces. Sometimes he seized a stick, and after twirling it in the most accomplished style of the Moorish gun dance, presented it at our heads, and, taking fixed aim, advanced with a shuffling pace, crying out, ‘There are the enemies! There are the enemies!’ His eyes at the time rolled with the most savage expression, every muscle in his body seemed to be strained to keep his aim steady. Suddenly, when the stick was within a few inches of my nose, he made a motion as if he had fired his gun, and leaping round, commenced the dance again.

The women, I am told, often join in these dances, but—as in our country-dances—form a separate line from the men, advancing towards each other with all the motion of courtship or love; which indeed is the origin of the movements in all dances. Several Arab women had flocked around me, and I observed two or three fine-featured girls; one especially had a gazelle-like expression such as Arab eyes alone can give. I asked them to dance; I begged them; but they said they were ashamed before strangers, and my nearest companion told me her husband was of the party, and would be jealous if she danced before the strange Moors in the camp. She acknowledged, however, that she could hardly refrain from joining in the dance. The music and dancing were kept up until a very late hour, and I was so interested and struck by the wild scene that I could not leave till the conclusion. It appeared to excite most fiercely the Arabs and our people.

_March 13._ The approach to Rabát is very picturesque. The town is built on an eminence near the river side, flanked on one side by the red-brown turreted walls of the old castle, and on the other by the grand ruins of the ancient Mosque of Hassan, whilst above the tomb-like houses of a glaring white, arose the tall minarets of the Moslem’s house of prayer.

The face of affairs has changed! Disregard, neglect, and ignorance have taken the place of kindness, honour, and goodwill. At the river, not a boat on the part of the Government, not a messenger to receive me. The Consular Agent, Mr. J. Serruya, a Hebrew of Gibraltar, a good young man though not a Solomon, came to meet us in a boat he had hired from a Portuguese vessel. I asked him the reason why the local Government had made no preparation, as is usual, for the reception of a Consul-General going on a mission to the Sultan. Serruya told me that he had been three times to the Governor this morning to announce my approach; that the Governor had promised to afford every facility for passing the river, and to pay me the usual honours.

Hadj Abdallah Tif is the name of the Governor, and he has lately been placed here by the Sultan to succeed Governor Zebdi, who had been elected a few months ago by the Rabát people, when they revolted against their former Governor E’Suizi.

The Sultan temporarily confirmed Zebdi in the post and put Suizi in irons. Then H.S.M. came to Rabát, ‘ate up’ the town, as the expression goes, and before his departure seized all the chiefs of the late insurrection and their Governor-elect, and sent them in irons to prison at Fas, nominating, though against his will, this said Abdallah Tif as Governor. He is reported to be very wealthy and, as he had lived a retired life and not mixed himself up in Government affairs, had been beyond the clutches of the Sultan. It is said that His Sherifian Majesty now awaits the first opportunity to receive sufficient complaint against Abdallah to seize his property. Alas, poor Morocco! poor Moors! poor Sultan! How fast you are rushing to ruin; for as sure as there is a God in Heaven, such a system, such iniquity, cannot thrive.

Crossing in our agent’s boat I sent my saddle-horses over in a barge.

Half a dozen artillerymen, in no order, had been sent to meet me, but not one of the authorities, though it is always customary for the Governor of the town to receive the Consul at the Custom-house on such occasions. I therefore told my interpreter to acquaint these artillerymen that I must decline their attendance, and should pitch my tents outside the town.

The news flew like wildfire, and I received a message to say that the Governor had been waiting for me with the Moorish authorities at the Custom-house. This was not true; for I had disembarked at another port-gate, having heard from my agent that the Governor did not intend to give me a reception.

All this indeed to me, as John Hay, is of little importance—for I hate the miserable parade—but if a Spanish or Neapolitan Agent, or a French Interpreter be received with these forms (as all have ever been), it will not do to let myself, as British Representative, be slighted. For then indeed, in this country of forms, it would be adieu to the British name and adieu to our influence, unless great guns were our Ambassadors. I don’t ask for more than others, but, by Jupiter! as British Agent, no Moor or man shall slight me!

On getting the message of the Governor, I told the bearer that I regretted having come to the wrong landing-place, but that the mistake had been committed from no boat having been sent or communication made to me by the Governor, when I was on the other side of the river. I agreed, however, in order to mend matters, to take no notice of the past and ride to the Custom-house. Some other soldiers and artillery had now joined the first half-dozen, and in we marched through the town, an immense crowd following.

At a narrow street I was halted and told to dismount, as the Governor was ready to receive me. I asked if it were the Custom-house and port, and receiving a reply in the negative, said, ‘Tell the Kaid, with my compliments, that I cannot have the honour of making the acquaintance of his Excellency—except at the port, as is customary.’ No answer was given, but out bolts the Governor—ferreted from his hole, _but supposed to be incognito_—and marches down to the Custom-house, whilst whispers of reproach reach my ear from the Rabát people, that the English Consul is right and their Governor a fool. I drew in my nag to let his Excellency pass and then followed, on horseback, till I reached the Custom-house.

The Governor had taken up his position on a plain stone seat, with a mat on it, and his soldiers were drawn up round him. No chair or stool was placed or offered to me; so, saluting his Excellency in the most polite style, I accepted the seat (which was not offered me!) next his _ungracious_ Excellency.

After the first phrases of Moorish compliment, I told Mr. Abdallah Tif that it was with much regret I had witnessed the want of attention and regard paid to myself, as the British Representative; mentioning, at the same time, the honours that had been paid to me on the road and the receptions I had met with—the established practice, from the most ancient times, for the reception of a Consul-General bearing letters of credence to the Sultan. As regarded myself personally, I told the Governor, it was of no importance, nor consequence; that I could shake hands and break the bread of friendship with the poorest Moslem; but that as British Agent I expected to receive the attention and honour due to me as the Representative of the ancient ally and best friend of Morocco. The Governor begged pardon and pleaded his recent nomination and his ignorance of former practice.

He then announced that he had prepared a house for me. This house I knew to be in ruins, and a most wretched hole. I therefore replied that, with his Excellency’s permission, I should pitch my tents outside the town, that I had every comfort with me, and should be more at my ease in my own tent than in a house. This, he said, he dare not permit, as he would be responsible if I were insulted. I then said, ‘I cannot accept from your Excellency the house in which you propose to lodge me. When Monsieur Roche, the French Interpreter, came here—accredited by his Consul and not by his Sovereign—you lodged him in the house of Mulai Hamed, a palace of your princes. As English Consul I ask not for such hospitality, but I decline accepting less than what has been granted to others, whether Spanish, Dutch, French, or of any other nation. I demand nothing, but will accept nothing, except my due.’

The Governor finally agreed that I should go to the British Agent’s house; the soldiers and tents to a spot fixed upon within the walls (where, Kaid E’Susi told me, the fleas were so large that they had ears!—meaning thereby that they were not mere insects, but animals), and he said he would let me know in an hour’s time whether I could have Mulai Hamed’s house. On taking leave I told the Governor that I regretted much to have had such cause for complaining of my treatment; that I came not to create disturbance, but to endeavour to bind the Mussulmans and the English by stronger bonds of alliance, friendship and good-will; but that unless that feeling were mutual, it would prove of no avail.

I am determined to act with every moderation and prudence, but will not be imposed upon and made the butt of low intrigue. It may yet be all right. The Sultan’s letter shall be the mirror by which my future conduct shall be guided.

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